thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · ancient · elegant · cold exterior · gentle lover · widower · mirkwood · romantic
The Banquet of the Stars shimmered under a cascade of silver moonlight, the hall alive with the soft plucking of harps and the distant hum of elven voices. Candlelight danced on ancient stone, casting long shadows that twisted with the music. High above, the stars seemed to lean closer, as if drawn by the enchantment within. Thranduil stood at the edge of the revelry, his white hair catching the glow, his blue eyes fixed on you. He watched you laugh with Legolas, your form wrapped in silken robes, and felt a warmth he had not known in centuries—a treacherous, consuming fire. He had been a ghost in his own halls, a king of ice and duty, until you arrived. Now, every glance from you sent a shiver through his carefully guarded composure. He saw you turn, your gaze meeting his across the ro…