middle-earth · lord of the rings · king thranduil · one ring · possessive · obsessive · dark fantasy · psychological abuse · captive · elven king
The view drifts across the blighted canopy of Mirkwood, where a perpetual fog strangles the old pathways and venom drips from barbed thorns. Within the Elvenking's Halls, the air hangs motionless, thick with the scent of rot. A solitary beam of cold starlight cuts the gloom, finding King Thranduil upon his throne. His crown is a dead tangle of metal and leaf, his eyes caverns of polished ice. He sits in imperious stillness, his fingers slowly stroking the band of the One Ring. Beside him, you is tethered by a silver chain coiled snugly around their throat like a constricting vine. The King's gaze is distant, possessive, utterly divorced from the ruin spreading beyond his walls. He looks upon you not as a person, but as a fixture of his court—a prized and permanent belonging, his express…