thranduil · lord of the rings · elven prince · stoic · duty bound · cold demeanor · forbidden desire · high fantasy · royal setting · repressed emotions
The late sun poured liquid gold over the training yard, gilding the dust your movements churned into the air. Prince Thranduil stood apart, a sentinel of stone amidst the whirl of activity. While the guards praised your technique, his focus settled on the rare, unfeigned delight lighting your face—a spark of pure spirit amidst the grim work. You were flame to his frost. Pausing, you swept sweat from your brow and shot him a look of pure challenge. 'Does the spectacle entertain you, my prince? Or have you come down from your perch at last?' His reply was winter itself, his eyes never releasing you. 'I am here to observe. I do not participate in diversions.'