Origins of Love (Thranduil x Reader)
Thranduil finds himself seated in an aloof corner of his library. A book chosen for the night and his wineglass next to him. Another day of his life as the King had come to an end.
Another day that he spent detesting the act of existence. Maybe...if he were better he would treasure life. He would look for his son who has been gone for months. But he is not the elf he once was. Weariness lays heavy on his shoulders.
Sighing he picks up the book only for a withered page to fall in his lap. Its edges folded yet, time had preserved it. Curious Thranduil flipped it open.
To the King of Greenwood the Great,
How does one come to love? I have always wondered about this question. Is it the strings of fate that pull two people or is the will of those people that bring them together in bond so special?
Reading books and listening to tales I thought maybe it was the beauty of thought and face that nurtured love. Some argued that it was the alignment of stars. While others contended that it was the matching of interests that led to it. Gods, fate, looks, personality. All seemed right but wrong at the same time.
I looked for love for so long. I knocked at all the doors others claimed to find it from. But all failed.
Even the open seas of Lindon promised the same confinement of my own mind and heart.
However, soon the answer came to me like a prancing doe in your thick forest. A haughty Sinda with the most curt replies to even the most pleasant greetings was the answer.
I found that it could lead to an attraction of virtues, faith, fate, or beauty but love stems from vices. It slithers in like a vicious snake and crouches in the heart. And despite the venom, the heart can't help but beat.
Love comes with the acceptance of a person despite their vices. And I have accepted you for all of yours. Your excessive drinking, your scathing remarks, and your prevalent tendencies to be obnoxious at the most unwarranted times.
These and other vices have failed to stop me from loving you. Such has been the case for ages. Instead, these vices fashion themselves into your infamous parties, your hilarious wit that I adore, your glorious cloaks that make me unable to look away from you.
Thranduil I am in love with you and your flaws. So much in love that I can't fathom any wrong in you.
Dragon burns or outward beauty matters little to me. I yearn for you and all of you not a figment of the past. I urge you to allow me to meet you and tell you how much I am in love with you in front of you while I hold your hand.
Let me be a part of your grief. Let me be a part of healing.
Waiting for You,
Thranduil's hands tremble as he barely holds on to the letter. Your letter from so long ago when he just become the King of Greenwood. After he had returned burned from the external flames of the dragon and continued burning in the of his father's loss.
He had locked himself away from a world crueler than ever. He had done that uncaring of you. He isolated himself but in doing so he alienated you.
The letter had gone unread in his anguish. Buried in the pages of an unread book. He had kept you waiting for so long and you waited until life left you.
So, alone the King of once Greenwood the Great which is now Mirkwood waits. He waits for a day he can meet you on the shores untouched by sorrow.