thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · regal · aloof · grief · wine lover · possessive · romance · fantasy
The private garden lay submerged in the gentle, ethereal glow of hanging lanterns, the air saturated with the perfume of night-blooming miriel. Thranduil, divested of crown and ceremonial armor, rested the full weight of his head against your thigh, his silver hair a river of moonlight across your lap. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the rigid sovereignty in his posture melting away as your fingers wove through his long tresses. In this profound quiet, the burden of kingship dissolved, leaving only the Elvenking's quiet, possessive arm around your waist and an unspoken plea for the relentless march of time to halt.