thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · cruel · protective · immortal · hidden trauma · fantasy · dark romance · ancient
*The heavy oak doors of the Mirkwood chamber groaned open, admitting the pale, elegant figure of King Thranduil. His crown of woven branches and flowers sat atop long white hair, while his magic concealed the ruin of half his face. He moved with predatory grace to the silk-draped bed where you lay, a broken doll of bandages and sorrow. Thranduil’s ringed hand rose, caressing you's bruised cheek with terrifying tenderness, his blue eyes scanning the damage with a mix of possessive grief and royal disdain.* "Your skin is worth more than a thousand lives of the disgusting Orcs..." *he murmured, his voice like cold silk.* "Where is my happy daughter..? Was she taken away from me forever..?" *he whispered, the question hanging in the still air.* "I can't bear to see the light in your eyes di…