#dark!thranduil

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

For you fic ask game, how about Thorin aor Thranduil + You've always been mine.

You've Always Been Mine

"You did get very far but do you truly believe that you did so without my intention?"

You look down from the canopy of the Mirkwood tree. Thranduil does not return your gaze as he does not need too. You both knew it would end this way.

"You've always been mine, treasure," he sweeps around to lean on the trunk, "I can be patient."

[thran-duils]

Seduce & Destroy (P. 10)

Title: Seduce & Destroy (Part Ten) Summary: A mother is desperate to save her daughter from being married off to the Master of the Town or worse, sold to the brothel for her father to be able to afford drink and rent when he is failing at bringing in money for the household. The mother finds a witch deep in the ancient woods willing to take a sharp cost to bestow safety on the daughter. If it truly ends up as safety… that is yet to be seen. Pairing: Dark!Thranduil x Fem!Human Reader Words: 2,121 Warnings (more may be added): Non-con, magical manipulation, mental abuse

Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Thranduil did not apologize the next morning for his behavior. He instead ordered you to leave the chambers and occupy yourself while he nursed his hangover. You dined alone at breakfast and then lunch. You only saw him at dinner, and he still looked worse for wear – as did the rest of his court. You seemed to be the only one in the inner circle not suffering from a massive headache.

He grew tired quickly and barely touched his food. And although you were not done eating quite yet, he ordered you to come with him when he was ready to retire. The rabbit on your plate was left and you knew you would feel the pangs of hunger before the morning sun came bringing breakfast.

Thranduil finally slept and you were unable to – it was too early still.

Quietly, you slipped from the bed and made to the door to his chambers, your robes wrapped around you tightly. You were hungry and had become so far sooner than you expected.

Two of the guards at the door fell in line behind you when you walked past – they were almost like a shadow now. You knew the kitchens were further into the kingdom and you also knew that you did not know the way.

Stopping on the stairs, you turned back to the guard, who were standing at attention.

“I… where are the kitchens?”

“If it is food you desire, you should have just told us and we would have asked one of your handmaidens to fetch you a plate,” one of the guards stated. “You can return to the King’s chamber, my lady.”

Having to sit in silence to not wake Thranduil while you waited to dine alone sounded miserable.

You stated, “I would like to accompany them so I can choose what I would like.”

Bolder than you would have been when you first came here. Feeling entitled to choose what it was you ate from their stores.

The other guard spoke now, “That would not be wise. The King will be irate if he finds his chamber empty of you.”

You knew that voice.

Ciardan.

You had not seen him since you had tried to escape the kingdom. But had he been there the whole time, only now with a helmet, faceless? Stationed to a guard to simply watch outside the King’s chambers instead of being free without the helmet?

You owed him at least to not cause him further trouble on your behalf.

Nodding stiffly, you agreed, “Yes, you are right. Please take me back. I’ll trust the handmaidens know what to bring.”

<><><>

The pieces of vine twisted, weaving around each other beneath your hand. A bead of sweat formed at your brow at the energy you were focusing into making the bark expand its root. Expanded outside of the ground, Hebe had promised the tree would not die with the amount exposed to the air. And it was an easy first attempt to try to breath life into the ground this way.

Your eyes followed the root as it stretched further from the base of the parental base. Your hand shook slightly, trying to keep your magic you were harnessing focused.

Then an unexpected darker vine grew from the braid. It was eager to find its way into the braid and you had to raise your other hand to focus and gather its momentum. Using both hands, you coaxed the new into the old to form as one. It was an array of shades of brown and they complimented the other.

A fresh root!

Containing your excitement, you guided the foundling root with the older and drove them both to the soil again. Placing your hand on the ground, you felt it settle and within yourself, you felt peace.

You were beaming as you stared at the spot where you had conjured the beginnings of a weave. But then… emptiness. Your brow furrowed, staring down at the ground. You still felt the root but the life you had felt spark had dwindled. Turning your head, you caught gaze with Hebe.

She looked amused at your response. “That was a good sign.”

“Truly though?”

“You can’t expect to gain everything all at once. A fresh root being conjured is something to be celebrated… even if you felt it didn’t survive beneath the surface without your direct influence.”

So, she had felt it as well? Of course she had, you thought, thinking yourself foolish to think otherwise.

“It’s been so long though,” you commented, feeling the excitement beginning to wane. Doubt was creeping in.

And Hebe knew it too.

“Now don’t discourage yourself. You’ll put yourself in a bad head space.”

“It is hard not to.”

“The only one putting that pressure on you is yourself,” she stated. “I’m certainly not doing it. I would rather you learn properly than sloppily. And most of the time properly means time. You’ve shown talent for the simpler spells. I doubt that you will not do well as we continue to dive in deeper. Would you like to try again?”

“With the same root? Won’t that cause a problem?”

You and Hebe were deep into the cavern – deeper than you had traveled into Mirkwood. You wondered if Thranduil knew exactly where you were. He did not like you to venture too far because far meant more opportunities for exits. Hebe had insisted on this spot because she had been scouting out exposed roots and this one was the healthiest she had discovered. She had little regard for Thranduil’s paranoia.

Hebe chortled, “You worry for the sake of the kingdom? Y/N… this whole kingdom is built on nature. You are not killing it by doing this, I assure you. You may have felt the spark of the new root die because it went too far for you to sense it just yet. But I did not. It is still thriving. And it will continue to thrive.”

The spot where the roots had disappeared caught your attention because they shook slightly. And the youngest root swelled every so slightly in size.

“See?”

When you looked back at Hebe, she smiled softly. “If it had died, it would wither and grow limp when the spell touched it again. It doesn’t matter which person uses the spell, it’s only the strength of the spell itself that matters. I used it myself to test and the root is strong. You did well.”

Her confidence spilled towards you and your shoulders relaxed.

“Dealing with living, breathing matter is different than material without life force. You mastered weaving twine, and you did quite well for your first attempt with life force. If you would like to try with another vine, then that is fine.”

“That one seems like it will do well enough.”

“It will.”

Hebe walked off towards another exposed root and you followed her. You raised your hand, taking a deep breath. But she stilled your movement by turning towards you and you faltered at the look in her eyes. She looked a mixture of determination and contemplation.

“Y/N… Thranduil’s kingdom thrives on nature. If you can learn to mend and control it, you will be indispensable. You must trust me when I tell you that you are doing well and not doubt yourself. Do you promise me?”

She looked almost… desperate for you to agree.

You slowly nodded and she exhaled sharp the breath she had been holding in. “Good… good. Resume.”

<><><>

The sun shined down through the treetops at the spot where Thranduil had had servants set up a spot for the two of you to dine mid-day. The tree line provided safety from the direct sunlight and kept you cool enough. You had yet to venture to the top of the kingdom and Thranduil had his own secluded spot set aside for himself. To your back, there was rock but before, there was a still pond filled with a glistening waterfall and beyond that a straight line of sight over the tops of lower trees. It was a breath of fresh air to be fully above ground.

You picked up a piece of cheese, savoring the salty taste in your mouth.

Thranduil was reclined back on pillows against the rock, comfortable in his sitting position. Beneath you, there were many plush blankets to provide padding against the ground.

You wanted to try out Sindarin, surprise him. Ask him for something to show him what you had been learning. You had been too nervous up to this point outside of your lessons with Hebe and you had specifically been practicing asking for wine. It was something he enjoyed and was important to Elven culture.

Thranduil was almost done with his own glass and was going to serve himself. Best now than ever.

“Lothron im gar-i miruvor?” you asked in a steady voice, eyes trained on him.

Thranduil paused in his movement, his eyes sliding to you. You remained still, sitting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It grew more difficult though the longer he refused to say anything.

Finally, he corrected, “Miruvor.” Your shoulders slumped slightly realizing you had said it incorrectly and that he felt the need to point it out. Thranduil noticed. “Do not slump. Sindarin is a rich language, and it is unnatural for human tongues. You will struggle but you are improving. I will be able to understand you regardless of the accent. If you ever master it or not, I mean. It is unlikely but I have been surprised before.”

He held the wine casket out towards you and poured you a glass.

“You are upset,” he commented, not looking at you.

“No, I’m not,” you replied, picking up the glass.

“You know I despise dishonesty.” You decided to say nothing, and he continued, “I did not intend to offend you, merely point out something that can be easily corrected with practice.”

You refrained from saying that that was not what had offended you. He clearly saw no fault  in insinuating you were too daft as a human to ever speak his language.

Instead, you feigned diplomacy, “I’ll remember to take direction with less pride in the future.”

Thranduil hummed in approval as he retracted his hand. You watched his hands, his long fingers reaching to grasp a lemon tart. He caught sight of your watchful eyes and reached to stroke your cheek with his free hand.

“You have come a way, lòth,” he told you. “You would have stayed silent and simmered in your mood before. I applaud you for the growth and displayed maturity.”

His thumb ran across your lips before his hand fell. You could see he was thinking of something as he stared at you. He did not share though, he only made a sound of contentment before bringing the tart to his lips to take a bite, his gaze moving towards the water.

<><><>

The door to Thranduil’s chambers opened and you lowered your book, peering over the top as you waited for the interruption show itself.

A line of servants carrying large trunks in pairs came in – five large trunks. A single servant at the rear was holding a bundle and they waited patiently while the others placed the trunks down, opening the lids. Your book was placed to the side as you sat up in the chaise, curiosity getting the better of you.

The elf holding the bundle threw a glance your way and mentioned, “My lady, you should try this on before we choose which trunk outerwear will be placed in.”

“Try what on?”

They were already unfolding the bundle, coming towards you. “The seamstress crafted you a riding cloak.”

“For?”

“The King requested to speak with you himself once they are back from the hunt.”

You hated waiting for answers but stood as you imagined their arms would tire of holding the cloak up for you sooner rather than later. You slipped into it, the servant working to tie it at your neck. It was heavy with a hood and a rich green. The servant stepped back and clasped their hands in front of you.

“It is not too heavy? Comfortable? It looks to be the right length.”

Your mind was swirling with why on Earth they would bring you a riding cloak but deep down you knew the only reason. You were going to be traveling. For what, you did not yet know.

The cloak was heavy but it would be something you would gladly don if it meant leaving the kingdom for the first time in a couple of years.

Shaking your head, you said with a straight face, “Yes, it is perfect.”

~~~

Fic tags: @juniperwoodwell​ @buttercandy16​ @tigereyesf​ @asuni921​ @coopsgirl​ @mjaudrey​ @miriel-estelwen​  @my-blood-is-maple-syrup​ @betty-not-boop​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @darkmystress00​

[sweethearticism]

Hello my favorite writer! If you have time, could you write to Yandere Thranduil x pregnant reader wife who is trying to escape from hers so that her son does not grow up with a father like him? 🤗 I apologized in advance if this makes you uncomfortable or something :(

ps: i love your writing its just amazing please never stop writing 😅❤

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ yandere!thranduil ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. you had accepted that you would never escape the elvenking's madness — but what happens when you discover you are now carrying his child who may grow up in a broken home? ( dark themes ៸៸ yandere content ៸៸ pregnancy ៸៸ possessive behaviour ៸៸ violence ( not towards reader or child ) ៸៸ toxic relationship ៸៸ dark themes in general viewer discretion advised )

· ⊰ note. istg hearing that I'm people's favourite writer makes me gush so HARD 💕 thanks sm for the support love! hope you enjoy, translations in the comments!

ʚ You had come to a point in your relationship with Thranduil where you eventually accepted all of the madness and inescapable darkness. What point was there to protest? It only led to suffering - and he had demonstrated time and time again that there was no where you could run, no where you could hide; each and every time he would find you and drag you straight back to him. You had quite literally become his perfect little wife, bending to his every whim and appeasing him at all costs. A doll, if you will 

ʚ However, this mindset all changed the day that you discovered your pregnancy. At first you didn’t want to admit it, to simply deny and pray to every divine being imaginable that it wasn’t true, that you wouldn’t birth a child to this madman. Alas, it appeared that you were indeed: pregnant with Thranduil’s child

ʚ Your mind was a battlefield, a slew of panic and anxiety on the actuality of the situation and the fact that your child would be born into a broken home. Sure, you could handle your husband’s madness but you were unsure of how he would react to the child. You didn’t think that you wanted to know. It was not as if you could go-off of the way Legolas was raised because not only was that before your time but also whilst he still retained the majority of his sanity. It was his feelings for you that drove him mad. After the loss of his previous wife, he was determined to ensure that it never happened again - that you remained at his side for all eternity. And he was willing to do whatever it took to secure that. So there was no telling what your child would face, being raised by a clearly mad father

ʚ You couldn’t bring yourself to potentially put them through the horrors you faced, to have to witness the terrors of this palace, this soon-to-be family. So you concocted a plan, simple yet unbelievably foolish: run away. You’ve done it before, he’s found you every time. . . but it’ll be different. You will do whatever it takes to ensure your child grows up in a healthy home, free of the king’s madness. With that in mind, you got to work, planning your escape diligently all whilst keeping up the facade of being his perfect wife and queen

ʚ What you didn’t expect was how protective Thranduil would become after he discovered you were pregnant, after all, how much more protective could he possibly get? Now, there was not a moment you were left alone without a handmaiden, a guard or servant at your side. It was almost as if a part of him knew what you were planning - almost. Thanks to your quick wit and sheer determination you just so managed to deceive them all, keeping your husband in the dark of your real motives while feigning an excited soon-to-be mother on the outside 

ʚ The day of your escape couldn’t have come sooner. You put all the pieces together, rehearsed it again and again in your head. Finally, when the time was right you took your chance and fled with your heart in your hands. You never looked back, not once. Instead you kept running, fleeing the realm of Mirkwood before he even discovered your disappearance. 

ʚ And when he did? Well, let’s just say hell reigned on earth. He was outraged, appalled. After everything the two of you had been through. . . and yet you still ran away!? The fact that you had fled whilst pregnant with his child did little to help the situation and in an instant, a fleet of guards was sent out to drag you back; by any means necessary

ʚ You didn’t expect to remain hidden for so long. Especially to the extent where you birthed a healthy baby boy and now lived your life free from the clutches of the king. You thought all would be well, that the life of horrors was left behind and you could simply raise your son in peace - in a home that he deserved. You had resided within a village, not particularly known by most of middle-earth, a disclosed little sanctuary where you could live happily, as you deserved

ʚ Unfortunately for you, peace was never a staple when it came to your life. You woke up to the sound of shouts and screams, only to be met with scenes of crimson red upon glancing out the window of your little cottage. Elves, everywhere. And your poor little village having pay the price of your sin done unto the elvenking

ʚ You wanted to take your son and flee again, but upon finding your way to his room - you were met with a sight that plummeted your heart into the pit of your stomach. Standing there, cradling your precious baby - was none other than the elvenking himself. Gazing upon the little bundle with such gentle eyes, such a soft countenance, despite all the terror that went on outside. And when he glanced up once your presence was sensed, he tilted his head with that same, bone-chilling smile. 

ʚ “My queen, did you really think I wouldn’t find you again?”

[thran-duils]

Seduce & Destroy (P. 9)

Title: Seduce & Destroy (Part Nine) Summary: A mother is desperate to save her daughter from being married off to the Master of the Town or worse, sold to the brothel for her father to be able to afford drink and rent when he is failing at bringing in money for the household. The mother finds a witch deep in the ancient woods willing to take a sharp cost to bestow safety on the daughter. If it truly ends up as safety… that is yet to be seen. Pairing: Dark!Thranduil x Fem!Human Reader Words: 1,609 Warnings (more may be added): Non-con, magical manipulation, mental abuse Author’s Note: Okay, so after a huuuuuge mental block with writing in general over the course of the last 10 months and especially this story because I couldn’t decide or really picture the direction, I’ve got it. I promise more Hebe and reader content (magic related, not sexulaly, lol) next chapter!

Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

(the watermark for the thranduil photo is still on there - this pic was found on pinterest and i was unable to find a link to the artist)

<><><>

Thranduil was drunk. That much was clear. The king loved his wine, that was for certain. And there were many nights where you knew he had drunk his fill. But tonight was something else entirely. You did not think it possible to imbibe as many goblets as he had and the fact he was still standing astounded you. He was full in his celebration of the New Year.

He was looser, his laughter hearty. It was a thing to behold – him sounding genuine in his laughter. You were unsure if you should feel touched by the sight of the generally tepid king so jovial or if you should keep your distance. Not that you could wander far, especially with the guard. He spoke of past parties’ memories with his court, warm memories, and you listened.

Thranduil merely guffawed when one of the court wandered off and it was reported back that they had drank themselves sick. Apparently that happened to at least one of the court at celebrations such as this.

Legolas was relaxed, leg swung over his chair, and loosely holding his goblet as he drank. He had not said one bordering on rude comment or sent an unkind glance your way throughout the night. There was no way you would let your guard down around him though; you kept your drinking to a place where you were warm, but the world was not a blur.

The celebration dragged on into the night and the food never seemed to disappear – the servants kept watchful eyes to make sure plates were full. The candles burned bright still, the music swelling and dipping. Some elves had pulled down ropes of the snowdrop and daffodil garlands to weave individual crowns. They danced, although now it seemed harder to keep their footing, but the mood was high.

Despite the energy still thrumming, your eyelids were beginning to become heavy. Thranduil found his seat beside you again and you opened your mouth to speak but he was not paying attention. His glass was empty and before he had a chance to beckon a servant, your hand came to rest on his arm that he had raised. It stalled his movement and his head turned to you. The intoxication was swimming in his eyes.

Leaning towards him, you told him quietly, “This celebration has been grand, and I’ve been pleased to partake. A beautiful party for your people. But I am finding myself fading from the excitement and would like to retire.”

Thranduil’s hand moved to come to brush at your cheek. His tongue peeked between his lips as his eyes trailed over your face before coming to meet your gaze. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and something lit in his expression.

It was then you had a sinking feeling it would still be awhile before you chased sleep.

Standing once more, he turned – a small stumble as he faced you – before holding out his hand to you.

“You’re quite right. The party has been splendid – one of the best. But it is growing late and I do not wish to see you fall asleep in your chair. You should be comfortable. Come.”

Thranduil bid his crowd to continue their jubilee in his absence before leading you away. A gaggle of guards fell in line behind the pair of you to escort you to his chambers.

A hand skirted across your bare shoulders. Twirled up into your hair and skirted down your neck. He was not keeping his hands to himself as you made your way through the halls. Soon his fingers were pulling at your bodice strings, and you tried to walk quicker to get to the stairs leading up to his chambers. He was impatient and you did not want him to continue trying to undo your gown before you were in the privacy of his room. In his state, he seemed to have lost care for propriety.

You did not make it up five steps before he was on you. His movement was swift and pointed much to your shock – his hands swooped you up underneath you and placed you onto the stairs above where he stood. Before you could ask what in the world he was doing, he knelt on the stairs to position himself between your legs. Your eyes bugged, realizing he was meaning to take you outside his chambers. You frantically looked over his shoulder down the hall where the guards had not ascended and had instead taken places against the wall, not paying mind to what was about to transpire. They acted as if they were statues.

Your skin was set alight as his hands dove up your dress and his fingers came into contact with your bare legs. And your cheeks burned knowing that you could so easily be exposed to the guards below if Thranduil happened to move a certain way to give them or anyone else who happened to come into the hall view.

“My lord?” you squeaked, hands coming down to push at your skirts to try to cover yourself again.

“I’m here,” he assured you, slapping your hands away. He trailed kisses up your thigh towards your sex.

Not deterred by his slapping, you tried to push him away again and his fingers dug into your thighs in response, and he came up to catch your mouth with his. When he pulled away again, you were breathless.

“What… what are you doing?” you asked him, voice shaking.

His eyes were dark, and he informed you, “I will taste you. I’ve thought about your sweetness all night. It was not until you asked to retire that I realized I could not wait any longer.”

“My King, you have had much wine. We are not in your chambers—” you tried to reason.

“I can do as I please,” Thranduil cut you off, pushing your skirts further up.

He was coming at you again and it took everything in you to not place your hands on his head through the bunched-up fabric to push him away from you. That would certainly not go over well to accost him in such a manner, especially in front of his guards. You looked towards them again, but they were still standing, staring straight ahead stiffly.

“Please, you must—” you raised your voice towards them to try to plead to them to intervene but squeaked again when Thranduil nipped at your inner thigh, his breath hot. You adjusted, trying to move your sex away from his desperate kisses.

He was not listening. His hands gripped your hips tight, yanking you to his waiting mouth. His tongue lapped up flat and hungry, teasing to dip into you.

“Your grace, we should retire before indulging in the other,” you spoke rushed, still squirming to halt his advance to no avail now with his grip on you. Another lick and his tongue did dip now. Your breath hitched, “What your people will think if they find you and I in the halls engaged in such an intimate act?”

You went ignored and gasped erotically when his tongue delved, licking at your nub. Your neck was burning with embarrassment at the position he was putting you in.

“It is unbecoming!” you snapped, losing your patience. You shifted roughly, using your knee to push his shoulder in a fluid motion. You succeeded in getting his tongue away from you but you had irritated him. He jerked away and his mouth was in a thin line. Your voice was still raised, “You told me I was not to be treated like a whore like my father meant for it to be. Are you going to break your vow?”

The crackle of the torches lighting the hallway and the party far off in the distance were the only sounds beside yours and Thranduil’s heavy breaths as you stared the other down. You had already irked him and you wanted – nay, needed – to stand your ground. It was one thing to have his people know of your affair but to treat you this way? He was far too drunk, and you wondered if he would have shame in the morning. If he would recall it at all.

His gaze was boring into you, threatening you to say anything further. There was no need, you had said what you had wished to – made a very damn good point if you were honest.

A sharp exhale left him, and he stood abruptly, swaying. You braced for him to tumble over onto you at the movement, but he caught himself on the wall.

“Get up,” he ordered. You did so and began to straight out your skirt but he stopped your movement as his large hand grasped your face roughly; you winced at the pressure. “You forget yourself, lóth. You will not raise your voice to me. Ever. Do you understand me? I rule over you, not the other way around.” You nodded and his fingers flexed, eyes searching your face. He seemed satisfied with your answer. “Good.”

Letting go, he told you, “You may continue to my chambers.”

Turning, you hid your hands that were shaking. But thanking the stars above that you would find privacy upstairs and that the guards had witnessed you trying to protect the dignity of their king. You could not imagine what rumors would have swirled about you allowing him to take you apart in public when he was intoxicated as he was.

You hoped that would win some favor amongst the elves and help to continue your assimilation into their society. A bitter win for the night.

Fic tags: @juniperwoodwell @buttercandy16 @tigereyesf @asuni921 @coopsgirl @mjaudrey @miriel-estelwen  @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @betty-not-boop @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @darkmystress00

[sweethearticism]

“If I see you with them again, I’ll kill them” with Yan! Thranduil?

-this is the earlier yandere anon, is it okay if I be asked to be called Yanon <I thought it’d be funny

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ yandere!thranduil ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. it was an innocent dance with an old friend of yours, the last thing you expected was the madness of your husband ( yandere themes ៸៸ possessive & obsessive behaviour ៸៸ hints at violence ៸៸ toxic relationship ៸៸ dark themes in general, viewer discretion advised )

· ⊰ note. of course, welcome yanon <3 this was really enjoyable to write since it's more on the eery side haha. hope y'all enjoy, Sindarin translations are in the comments

He was impossibly kind, astonishing in both smile and personality. A wise soul whom you had the privilege of befriending during your time in Mirkwood. Gentle hues glimmered ten times that of the starry heavens. Selfless, benignant. . . 

But he was not Thranduil. 

Perhaps a part of you was thankfully for that. The part of you which longed for normality, sanity, within this life you have come to lead. And it was that very part that would be forced down, ridiculed and guilt-tripped until it doubted its desire for what others could consider a given. 

“Is something troubling you, Rîs nin?’’ “Hmm?” 

The tender whisper pulls you from the void of countless thoughts as you find those shimmering irises once more and present a smile. “Have I not told you to simply refer to me by name?” “Are you not my queen?” Swaying within a turn according to the music, you catch his swift glance towards the king, your husband: Thranduill Oropherion.

He had occupied himself that evening when Feren strode over to express his concern for the more-than-gradual increase of shelob wandering further into your lands, to which you excused yourself and stood on the sidelines. . . that was until an old friend offered a dance and seeing as though Thranduil appeared preoccupied with the newfound issue, you accept. 

It was simply a dance, after all. A mere courtesy of the festivities. Besides, your beloved was busy, he most likely would not even notice. 

“I was your friend long before I gained that title,’’ soft and gentle were your words and although you knew it was said in a jesting manner, you couldn’t help the drop of tone, your voice fading into nothing but a faint whisper. For it was that very title that bound you, body, heart and soul to the one they call the elvenking. That title, having only been obtained through marriage, clearly signified that you belonged to him 一

‘Only mine.’

You almost sprung from your skin, only to realise that the voice was a linger of the imagination. Nothing but a memory, a nightmare. 

“If it upset you I shall refrain, Y/N.’’ 

Upon glancing up you take notice of the newfound concern slipping into his gaze as Eliedir spins you once more. “However, it would cost an explanation. You are not yourself, won’t you allow an old friend to be of aid?” It left your brows dipping, expression twitching and threatening to expose all your deepest emotions. But you bite your tongue, tasting the dullness of ichor and swallowing its metallic essence along with any confessions of the truth you nearly spilt.

“It is nothing, mellon nin.’’ 

He draws you out to arms’ length only to gingerly tug you back at a particular beat of the song. “I’d appreciate it if you spared me your lies, mellon nin.’’ Returning the affectionate name with evident earnestness. “Is it so severe that you cannot confide in even me?” You gulp, avoiding his glimmering eyes which sought to stare into your very soul until he eased an answer from you. 

“Well?” The elf sighs, angling his head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of your irises. “I’m simply worried for y -”

“Meleth nin.’’ 

For a moment you chalked it up to another illusion, a trick of the mind 一 but when Eliedir halted in step and released you of his prior hold, you knew all too well that the daydream was over along with the glimmers of heaven,

as hell’s flames now emitted behind you. 

“Your majesty,’’ the elf bows at once, eyeing your hesitant turn to your husband who stands tall, menacing as ever. A shadow to consume all those below him with an expression austere and shiver-inducing. 

“Leave us.’’ 

Tone as frigid as his demeanour, Thranduil arbitrarily dismisses the second presence, yet never once relieving you of his stare. It brings tension to your muscles as a chill seeps into your joints and leaves you numb. Albeit reluctant, Eliedir nods and defects as ordered, leaving you with the one you called king and husband. 

“Must you be so curt?” “What?’’ He arches a brow and snakes his hand into yours, bringing it to his lips and ghosting a kiss over knuckles. “I wished to dance with my queen, am I so wrong for such a desire?” The emphasis on your title left you nipping at your inner cheek 一 could you even refer to it as that? If anything, it was a reminder rather than a title when on his lips. 

Yet you suck in a breath and put on the smile you rehearsed time after time. “Now, who am I to deny my king? It would be an honour.’’ You grew to learn the sweet nothings that appeased him, drenching your tone and words in delicate nectar; for telling the king what he wished to hear was far more favourable than facing the aftermath of an accidental slip of tongue. 

He smiles. Relief washes over you. It appeared that you dodged the bullet and deterred a storm. 

Wasting not a second of his time you find purchase in his shoulder whilst your free hand intertwined with his fingers 一 alternatively, he places a hold on your waist. Thus, the dance begins.

For a moment you wish to blind yourself with the fantasies of yore. The delusion of a daydream, as it is easier than facing the reality head-first. And whilst at the back of your mind you knew better than anyone that this was anything but a dream, it hurt not to fool yourself with the illusions of normality, to peer with the eyes of outsiders and see what they saw: a king and his queen, madly in love. A blooming, innocent and sweet romance. 

“You are gorgeous tonight, mîr nin, a rival to starlight itself.’’ Oh, deceive me with such honeyed utters, delude me with the sweetness of your words; you begged. For it sweetened the ache and left you on a high that numbed the truth. The actuality. The madness. 

“As do you, Aran nin.’’ You lock gazes with him, staring into those sapphires which, although he would say it was yours, mirrored that of starlight. Gorgeous, that’s what he was. And sometimes it baffled you, how someone so stunning could hold a heart so tattered and tainted. But you would not dwell on such truths, instead, you opted for suckling on those candied lies. 

And for that moment you wished it was true. You wished for the wool to be pulled over your eyes and for the illusion to be reality. 

Alas. 

you knew not of normality. 

From the corner of your vision you catch the glimpse of a disturbance accompanied by a bustling chaos. Although unwise it may be, you turn your head in favour of your curiosity and at that moment regret it entirely. The whites of your eyes extend as your lids gape at the sight of Eliedir, now seized by the arms and discreetly wrenched away by armour-cladded guards. 

And as quickly as the fantasy settled it shattered, revealing the ugly, horrid truth. 

“Eliedir!” You forget the volume of your voice and move to jerk from your husband’s hold, only to fall still like a statue when a sting encircles your wrists and reflects upon your waist. 

“Sssh, melethel.’’ The croon is so tender, so gentle, that you almost mistook it for an entirely different being to the one which entrapped you against his form, with an arm now looped around your middle and the feel of nails now tormenting your side instead. 

Caged, like a petite woodland creature. His pathetic little petal. 

“Thranduil!” Albeit lowering your tone, the whisper held panic and perfectly displayed the anxiety welled within your chest. “Thranduil, what are they doing with Eliedir? He has done no wrong. Please, let me speak with them.’’ You should have known better, known him better. For when the rumble of his chuckle vibrated against you, it took longer than it should’ve to realise the truth. 

And when it finally settled? You trembled. Hoping and praying to Eru himself that you thought wrong, perhaps your ears deceived you of that dark and twisted, familiar snicker. 

You had no such luck.

“My love, did you think I would simply allow any man to touch what is mine?” 

Your heart froze and in that same second, thumped against your ribcage directly after. As if it sought to escape and run, hide and crawl into a hole where you would be safe from this darkness. And the longer realisation was left to soak into your mind, the further you understood to what extent Thranduil’s madness truly ran. 

“No,’’ a breathy plea accompanied by the faintest of head-shakes as your chin is brought to his shoulder. “No, no.’’ You repeat, voice hoarse from the newfound burn in your lungs. “Thranduil, I’m sorry. It was me, please -” A whimper interrupts your slew of begs and apologies at the feel of his nails now breaking skin. And despite the hand that leaves your wrist to instead cup the back of your head, everything appears normal. Just a king and his queen dancing along to the melodies of harps and flutes. 

“You worry for him to such degree. . . One would think he’s of utmost importance. Is he?” Fingers find your hair in gentle strokes, contrasting his jarring tone. “Is he more important than a dance with your husband?” 

You can answer not. Either way, it was a shot to the foot. An answer that appeased him would put you under the potential accusation of deceit and the obvious truth would cost you a peaceful night; no, a week. 

So instead you opt for silence, unsure of how to answer him whilst your mind raced for some sort of way to save your friend from the fate you feared. 

“Worry not.’’ What was that? You fall still, a sense of serenity easing over you at his next words. “His life is safe. . .’’ 一 and just like that, it drained. “For now.’’ 

Breath and voice lodged in the base of your throat, you merely allow the king to sway with you as though he hadn’t ordered for the detainment of an innocent elf nor hung his life above your head. 

“But if I see you with him again. . .’’ The chilling sensation finds your temple as Thranduil turns his head to press a kiss, sickeningly sweet, to your skin as you bite back a sob. 

“I will kill him.’’

[sweethearticism]

Soooooo,,, aha, yandere right? 😃

This is toooootally not your resident yanderefucker coming to request general yandere headcanons for Thranduil and feral Tomoe if that's allowed, aha, nope, not me

Take care of yourself bestie and make sure to drink water and eat. Breaks are important and don't forget to take them and also naps and sleep. Love ya Foxx and ignore this if you aren't feeling up to it 😌💜

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ yandere!thranduil ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. what happens when the king of mirkwood finds his newfound infatuation slowly turning into a dark obsession? ( yandere themes ៸៸ stalking ៸៸ implied violence ៸៸ possessiveness ៸៸ forced kissing ៸៸ dark themes some individuals may deem uncomfortable, viewer discretion advised )

· ⊰ note. spoops my darling! thank you so much for the request <3 I decided to do thranduil and save tomoe for another post since I do have yandere requests for him as well. did I get carried away with this? absolutely, it's been such a long time since I've written yandere and honestly I n e e d it in my life so here, some general headcanons plus a mini oneshot at the end since I love y'all ~

ʚ It was a fateful day, the day you caught the elvenking’s eye. You were apart of the king’s guard, a new member who had recently passed her training of the simple ranger and common guard before being promoted to your current position. It was then that he truly met you and let’s just say, you left more than just a simple impression on him.

ʚ He found himself intrigued by you, thrown off by this newfound curiosity. Thranduil would try everything in his power to ignore this newfound interest and push it to the back of his mind - yet the more he does so, the more difficult it becomes. Now that you were a member of the king’s guard, he saw you more often - interacted with you. It started off innocent, a small infatuation, a lingered stare here and there, an interest in your life, yet what was once harmless slowly morphed into something far greater as the king’s demons pulled him into darkest depths of his mind 

ʚ He convinced himself that it was merely infatuation - or at least, he tried to. Yet he found himself growing closer to you. If there was a situation or something that he needed handled, the first person he turned to was you. The first person he sought out in times of trouble soon became the same person he found himself growing less and less professional with. What was once a simply, straight-to-the-point relation soon turned into companionship and it was obvious to all those around you that you had found favour in the king’s eyes. As time went on he let his walls down, grew vulnerable around you - and what you saw as a sign of his change, what you didn’t know was behind your back a darker power was at play. 

ʚ The feeling of being watched was something that crossed your mind every now and then, however, never something which disturbed your everyday life. It was an ultimate win for Thranduil, you barely noticed the pair of eyes that trailed upon you, even when you were off-duty. You never paid attention to the one or two items which went missing from your private chambers - and it all panned out in the end. Your ignorance fed Thranduil’s obsession, driving him deeper and deeper into this pit he dug for himself. After all, it wasn’t as if he was caught; even if he was - who would believe you? 

ʚ For months he suppressed any desires to whisk you away and make you his by simply keeping you in his watchful gaze. Yearning for you, allowing his mind to become completely consumed by you. Yet those days would soon come to an end when reality hit the elvenking straight in the face - he was not the only one who fancied you. This was made clear when another member of your group had expressed a great fondness towards you, one which you neither shunned nor refused - and it set Thranduil’s mind ablaze. How dare you? After everything - how dare you!? 

ʚ The slow decent into madness turned into an abrupt fall from grace as all restraint Thranduil had snapped the moment he witnessed that very scene. However, he managed to hold strong, to calm now the raging and toiling fire in the pit of his stomach in favour of handling this situation to the best of his abilities. Needless to say, within the course of the week the elf who confessed their love to you disappeared and despite many searches - not a trace of him was left behind. This didn’t bring the pleasure that Thranduil anticipated, as your newfound grief for the loss of your companion left him further dismayed. Why shed tears for that bastard? When you had him, when you had Thranduil? 

ʚ He could take it no more, this ignorance that you insisted on keeping. When would you open your eyes and see that he was right there in front of you? That you fall into his arms as he had expected you to long ago? No, he wouldn’t waste another second. Thranduil took his chance and whisked you away the very moment he saw an opening. You were confused, frightened to find yourself in his private chamber with no possible escape. No matter how much you called for help or tried to slither you way from the confinements, all attempts were left fruitless

ʚ You were startled when your king finally arrived in the room and as expected you immediately threw a slew of questions to him. Why were you here? What was going on? Why was he acting like this? 

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ一

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is happening?” 

The silence does little to soothe the growing anxiety welling within your chest as you stare at the man you called your ruler, your king. An answer is what you expected and yet you get none, merely a gaze into your eyes as he inches his way closer. 

On instinct, you step back, unsure of how to react to this newfound aura that left the hairs on your arms pin-straight. “My lord, please answer me.’’ Your shoulders tense at the feel of your calves touching the softness of silk 一 any further and you would fall back onto his bed. “Please tell me what is going on!” 

“Sssh, my starlight.’’ 

An icy sensation finds your skin as the elf takes your face with his hands, a shadow casting over your form as he towers over you. “Do you not trust your king?” 

It’s the lowness of his voice, the eerie serenity which leaves your senses on edge, your heart pounding against its ribcage. “I -’’ You gasp as he pulls you closer, flushed to his form with little to no mistake. “Your majesty - !” 

You are cut off by yet another chill as his thumb rubs against your cheekbone. Cerulean hues find yours and his gaze feels as though it seeks to hold you in place and completely consume you. It’s sharp and just as icy as his touch, leaving you unable to turn away as he dips his head lower. 

“I sometimes wonder whether this is all an act,’’ he chuckles. You grow rigid at the feel of his lips brushing against your own. “You needn’t act any longer, my starlight. Will you not give yourself to me?’’ Any response you may have had is swallowed by the kiss pressed to your mouth, a firm yet loving exchange that leaves your eyes wide and body stiff. 

As quick as the stun came it melted into panic and you swiftly acted, hands finding his shoulders and managing to just barely push him away. “Y-Your majesty,’’ he’s confounded, a little surprised and you swore you saw his brow twitch 一 nevertheless, his eyes soften and he keeps the tender hold on your face. 

“What is it?’’ Concern melts to mirth and soon you are faced with a curl of his lips. “Oh, are you embarrassed?’’ He chuckles, forehead finding yours. “Forget any doubt you may have, you may now love me openly - ” “No.’’ You exhale, using all of your strength to shove him back further so that he’s at the very least a few more inches away. “You mistake me,’’ with a shake of your head, your gaze meets his in a desperate attempt to get your point across. 

“I. . . I am sorry, my lord, if I gave you any unclear signs.’’ With a clear of your throat, you splutter out a hesitant: “I-I hold no interest for you.’’ 

The world altogether stops for Thranduil, leaving him to stare dumbfounded at your face, eyes wide and searching for any sort of hesitation, any sign that maybe 一 just maybe, you were lying. 

And when he finds none? 

The fire returns. 

The silence is shattered by a violent motion, his hand now grabbing your face and pulling you forward without a hint of gentleness left. “My - !” “No, my starlight,’’ he murmurs, bringing his face inches from yours once more. “It is you that mistakes me.’’ A sudden burn of your lungs, the gasping for sweet, sweet, air; the hand that once gripped your jaw suddenly clamped down on your throat, fingers coiling into your skin as you are deprived of your most basic need. 

“Did you think I was giving you a choice in the matter? Silly girl,’’ he tuts, jerking your form closer whilst all you can do is splutter, gasp and attempt to break free from his death grip. “I merely wished to give you a chance at making this easier for yourself. . . But I suppose this is the more thrilling option.’’ 

A blurry cloud takes your vision and if breathing wasn’t difficult before; then it sure as hell was now with the way his lips crashed to yours in a demanding, domineering kiss that lacked all previous adoration. It’s fierce, a forceful interaction that will probably leave the faintest of bruises upon your most delicate skin. 

Thank the heavens his grip on your neck loosened just enough to allow air back into your lungs, but did that matter when Thranduil was practically smothering you in this harsh exchange? 

You attempt to push him back, to pull away, yet you’re yanked and unceremoniously shoved to one of the walls of his chambers. Trapped, with strength that would be unable to overtake him, you can do nothing but whimper as Thranduil steals your very breath away with a slew of kisses that leave you weak in the knees. 

“M-My king -” 

“That’s it. . .’’ He mutters, pulling away for but a moment with ragged breaths; a firm hand in your hair and keeping your heaf flushed against the stone wall. Completely caged by him, vulnerable to him, all you can do is stare from fluttering lids as you’re desperate to ease the burning in your lungs. 

“I am your king,” shattered sapphire hues meet your own, brimming with the madness to which he lost himself to. “And you are my queen, isn’t that right?’’ You attempt to shake your head, try to deny him, but a searing pain shoots through your skull as his fingers suddenly tighten in grip, causing you to cry out. “It’s the very reason I disposed of that lowlife the second I could.’’ 

Your eyes widen, shock filling your core which is quickly replaced by sickness. Realisation brought forth a nauseous feeling; but your shock was quickly taken advantage of.

Thranduil dives in once more, kissing with the same brutality of just a few moments ago. And he claims your lips for the umpteenth time that night, the true actuality of the situation crashes down on you like that of a violent tidal wave. There’s a sting in your eye, a lump in your throat, all of which lead to the shedding of tears 一 prompting him to pull away. 

“Oh, my starlight. Why do you weep?” You struggle, barely able to look him in the eye as you whisper out a quavering: “P-Please let me go. . .’’

It’s quiet for but a moment before the king releases a low, trembling laugh you were certain came straight from the depths of hell. “Let you go? Now, don’t be daft. . .’’ you shiver, sucking a breath at the feel of his lips to your cheek followed by the wet sensation of his tongue slowly tracing over the trail of tears.

“How could I ever allow my queen to leave me?”

[sweethearticism]

God, do I have a yandere idea for you. Could I request headcanons of a reader who's pretty much the reincarnation of Thrandail's late wife in looks, but absolutely adores fighting and gets into fights/gets injured no matter how badly he locks them up?

Also you've dragged me into this inescapable fandom and I will never forgive you for it 😭

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ yandere!thranduil ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. the elvenking was already teetering the edge of madness, what happens when he sees a woman identical to his fallen queen? ( yandere themes ៸៸ manipulation ៸៸ toxic relationship ៸៸ implied violence ៸៸ possessiveness ៸៸ dark themes present, viewer discretion advised )

· ⊰ note. dear you are f e e d i n g my yandere obsession istg. here, have these headcanons and a little oneshot piece at the end. I also take full responsibility for dragging you into this hellhole, welcome <3

ʚ The second Thranduil laid eyes on you he knew that he had to have you - he needed you. With the fact that you bore the looks of his late wife? It was enough to get the darkest gears in his head turning, he wouldn’t accept your refusals nor the actuality of how truly messed-up his motives were. Yet it seemed that the odds were in his favour, this time around 

ʚ You gave your everything to Thranduil and completely submitted to him. Desperate to find favour in his eyes that was for you, not her. You obeyed his commands, you bent to his every whim. Most saw you as a little puppet, dancing around and acting as a distraction for the ever-maddening king

ʚ It just so happened the elvenking’s charm was enough to woo you, despite the countless warnings from those around. You knew why he sought you out, favoured you - and in a way, you were responsible for the relationship you now found yourself in. After all, you were the one to make it so easy for him; to bend to his will in hopes to gain his love and adoration in a different way other than the fact that you looked exactly like the former queen. Deep within your heart, you yearned to have him love you for the person you were, to have him separate you from that woman. Was this an irrational hope? Perhaps to some, and it was the very thing that got you into this mess 

ʚ Alas, there was one thing that he had no control over, one thing that created a wedge within your relationship and drove him up the wall; your will to fight. It wouldn’t be a problem for most of his kin - but for the king? It ran deeper than one could imagine. After the loss of his first love, the mere thought of you throwing yourself in harm’s way was enough to send him into a frenzy. Due to this, he forbade you night hunts or any battles that the elves may face. He couldn’t lose you, the thought was enough to drive him even more to madness ( if that was actually possible with his already horrid mental-state )

ʚ It was the one thing he couldn’t get you to obey and of course, the single topic you both butt heads over repeatedly. At first he would simply lose his temper, shout at you, berate you, in hopes that it would deter your desires. Yet the more you disobeyed him, the further you ignored his commands, his reactions grew more severe. This prompted a vast array of punishments - hoping that this would put out the fire within you. It ranged from tactics of manipulation to the point where he would often lose composure and result in choking you, locking you away in his resting chambers for the night, guilt-tripping you. And when you still refused to listen? He would up the anti. Threaten to harm those who fought alongside you, threaten you. 

ʚ Inevitably, Thranduil would not be able to hold on to his dwindling sanity for much longer and would eventually lose himself to his darkest demons. You would only realise the severity of your mistake when he follows through with his threats, splattering the blood of those you called companions and locking you away in the deepest, darkest parts of his dungeons - where no one would hear your screams for help nor have any access to you. No one but him. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ一

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thranduil,’’ with trembling words, glistening eyes, you stare up into the pair of icy sapphires which look upon you nonchalantly. The stone floor scrapes against your knees, leaving you shivering, uncomfortable - yet you are unable to rise to your feet due to the heavy chains that hold you down. 

“P-Please. . .’’ You try to lean forward, but the restraints on your wrists which fix your arms above your head leave it impossible to do so. “Let me go,’’ a single tear slides down your cheeks and you hold a breath once he takes your jaw within his hold. 

Any previous warmth that his gaze held for you was now long gone, any gentleness faded. All this replaced by a glare and rough, unceremonious motions that left you feeling like a ragdoll. 

“Let you go?” Thranduil scoffs, leaning down so that silvery locks cascade around you. “You truly are daft, hmm?” 

You gasp, more tears slipping from your eyes as his hold drops to your throat and cruelly squeezes, forcing your head back into the cobblestone wall. A whimper eases from your lips and you refuse to return the fierce kiss he presses to your mouth for but a moment before his breath fans against the shell of your ear. 

“Never,’’ it’s a shaky, ragged breath, rumbling from his chest which heaves violently. “I will never let you leave me again, my darling starlight.’’ 

[sweethearticism]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 & 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ thranduil oropherion

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ LYRIC PROMPT

ʚ pairing : yandere!thranduil / reader

ʚ cw : yandere themes ៸៸ dark content ៸៸ possessive behaviour ៸៸ hair gripping

ʚ summary : once the childhood friend of thranduil, you now lived your life separated from him. having known how he has felt and not returned those feelings you left mirkwood with the excuse of 'needing to find yourself.' but what happens when rumours of your new life meet the ears of the elvenking?

‘Damnit, what the hell were these?’ 

With every strained tug of your wrists emitting the clinking of metal, you could only assume that it was the likes of chains confined you to this single, dark corner of what you had already deduced was the dungeon — Mirkwood’s dungeon. From the intricate carving that was upon even the walls of even these vast catacombs, that much you could tell. 

You halt in your struggle for a moment in favour of digging into your memory. What was the last thing you could remember? Where were you before this mess? One moment you had laid your head down to rest for the night and then next you found yourself here, shackled by the restraints which held your arms in a less than comfortable manner. 

There was only one name that came to mind, one ellon who could have possibly been mad enough to bring you here. 

“Thranduil. . .’’ 

As if your murmured realisation invoked a summoning, the faint patter of footsteps echoed from across the hall, growing nearer as they stepped down a flight of stairs. Soon a pair of leather boots came into view, stopping directly in front of bars confining you to the cell. You’re almost afraid to look up as your heart plummets into the pit of your stomach once the man finds his way past the only thing separating the two of you. 

Bated breath, tensing muscles, every struggle for freedom falls flat as your body grows frigid altogether. Yet still, you refused to look up and instead focused your gaze upon the rough stone floor which chafed your bare knees. Perhaps if you ignored his presence he would leave, perhaps if you paid no mind to the darkness it would turn out to just be a bad dream. 

The sting searing across your scalp did well in bursting your bubble and donned upon you the cold truth: you weren’t dreaming. 

Forced to peer into those sapphire pools of cruelty and malice you swore that nerve in your body stiffened entirely, mouth running dry, eyes agape — how long had it been since you stared into such gorgeous crystals? Since they showered you with so much hatred, so much love. 

The king says nothing and instead focuses his efforts on gripping your hair and forcing your head back so that an ache knotted your neck. With a touch that outdid even the iciest of the forest’s winters coupled with an equally as callous glare, he stares upon you with little regard for the evident pain etched across your features. 

“Why were you not honest from the start?”

The words stabbed fear into your already galloping heart. Honest? What was he on about? “Thranduil -’’ Another sharp strike to your head interrupts you altogether, replaced by a meek whimper as you use every fibre in your body to remain stiff in an attempt to soothe the pain of your straining hairs. “Answer me!” Like a crash of thunder his shout booms across the catacombs, surely heard by even whatever guards stood at their upper-floor posts. 

He’s far from anything you could recognise, a mere shadow of the ellon you once knew, the prince whom was once your everything once upon a time. Expression usually reflecting a calming riverine now contorted in the likeness to raging rapids, threatening to drag you in and drown as atonement for your sins. His eyes, typically temperate now mirrored that of hell’s depths. Feral, perhaps that was the way to describe him. 

“I -’’ you choke on fear, barely managing to shake your head thanks to his fierce grip. “I-I do not know of what you speak, my lord.” Your words do little to sate the ever-growing storm as pupils shrink together with irises in an unsettling display you had never before witnessed from the likes of him. 

“You had promised your departure was of your own doing and reasons, a mere search for inner peace. . .’’ Each word was punctuated by a ragged breath more uneven than the last as if he was holding on by a thread to not collide your head into the wall then and there. “Then what is this I hear of another man? A human. . . you have denied me for a damned mortal!?” Your shoulders tense together with a tightening feeling within your chest, yet you are unable to focus on such as the hand in your hair yanks you up by the roots. 

“For centuries I have waited for you, yearned for you. . . Had you not promised me your entirety in our youth!?” “Thranduil that was a lifetime ago!” 

Ah, there it is. 

A splitting pain found the back of your head as Thranduil had finally had enough and shoved you back into the stone wall, fingers trembling within the locks of your hair. “You would rather pledge yourself to a mortal man. . . than be mine?” Seeing as though you were dazed due to the recent impact he instead slips his hand down to dip your head up with the crux of his index finger. 

“I am not asking for much. . . only for what I have already given to you.’’ He leans in, warmth flushing your body despite the frigid atmosphere but a few moments ago. “Just give me your heart, is that so much to ask?” 

You whimper, unable to push him away as Thranduil altogether caged you within his suffocating hold. “I do not care whether you reject my love any longer. . . You will accept it,’’ a cool hand cups the flesh beneath your jaw as lips brush the shell of your ear. “Even if it kills you.’’