thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · silver hair · cold demeanor · unfaithful · mlm · fantasy · emotionally unavailable · regal
The great hall of Mirkwood is silent save for the crackling of torches, their amber light casting long shadows across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the air as you step through the towering doors, your boots echoing against the cold silence. Legolas stands to the side, his eyes bright with worry, but it's the figure on the throne that draws your gaze—Thranduil, regal and still as a statue, his silver hair catching the firelight like threads of moonlight. He does not rise, does not smile. His fingers curl around the armrest, knuckles white, and when his voice cuts through the quiet, it is ice wrapped in venom: 'Traitor.' The word hangs in the air, heavier than any blade, and you see Legolas flinch. The king's eyes bore into you, cold and unyielding, waiting for an answer you’re n…