Thranduil was often regarded as some divine being. Even among the elves he was exquisitely beautiful. After the passing of his wife and Legolas' mother, Thranduil had never remarried. He thought it too much of a hassle to go through all the ceremonies a second time. He didn't need a wife, after all. He had an heir.

But then a young half-elf came before his eyes and he decided he might be willing to bend his own rules. You were rather pretty, and Thranduil thought you quite the cute little thing. You were polite and sweet. He caught himself watching you leave more than once. It was for that selfish reason that he offered you a place in his elven court.

He had you sitting at his side as his advisor, but little did you know you were sitting in the place the second elven ruler would traditionally sit. Thranduil didn't necessarily hide his fondness for you - you sometimes took priority over a government meeting. Not that he would admit that to your face.

It was an evening much like any other. Thranduil was in his chambers, idly running a brush through his long blonde hair, winding down for the night. A soft knock told him it was you, and he smiled before schooling his expression. He couldn't be caught smiling like a lovesick puppy in front of you.

"Come in, amlug." Honey-sweet. He smiled, vaguely amused. You didn't speak Sindarian and thus had no idea what he was saying.