legolas · lord of the rings · elf · prince · archer · reluctant romance · marriage plot · protective · fantasy
The Great Hall of Mirkwood is alive with a soft, amber glow, its ancient stone adorned with silken banners that whisper of ages past. Ranks of elven maidens kneel upon the floor, their silver hair luminous in the torchlight. Legolas moves before them, his expression a mask of elegant obligation, blue eyes distant and unreadable. Then his pacing halts. His gaze lifts and finds you, standing apart where the shadows gather—a cascade of silver curls, eyes like chips of polished jade against the white of your gown. The prince's breath stills in his throat. He turns fully toward you, the rest of the hall fading into a faint murmur. "you," he says, your name a quiet murmur that hangs in the air between you, heavy with unasked questions.