The golden glow of the setting sun bathed the camp in warm light, casting long shadows over the gathered warriors. Laughter and idle conversation filled the air, a rare moment of peace after days of relentless battle. You stood near the fire, speaking with a certain human warrior—one who had been particularly attentive to you throughout the journey.

Legolas had been watching.

At first, he merely observed, noting every tilt of your head, every soft smile. But as the warrior stepped closer, fingers grazing yours in jest, something unfamiliar stirred in Legolas—something uneasy, something that hardened within him.

Before he realized it, he was moving.

The conversation faltered as the elf prince stepped into the flickering firelight, his presence as silent as a shadow yet impossible to ignore. His normally serene expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his piercing blue eyes—were locked onto the human before flickering to you.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, laced with something unspoken. He took another step, closer now, close enough that you could feel the steady warmth radiating from him. His eyes never left yours as he murmured, “I am not used to… sharing what is mine.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from the sheer weight of them.

The warrior stiffened slightly, clearing his throat, suddenly aware of the tension that had settled between you all. “I meant no offense, of course.” His tone was casual, but the glance he cast toward Legolas was wary. “Just friendly conversation.”

Legolas did not respond to him. Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with deliberate intent before lacing them together.

The human took that as his cue to leave, muttering a quick farewell before stepping away.

“You are free to speak with whomever you choose,” he murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something softer. “But know this—I do not offer my affections lightly. And I do not pretend indifference when something—someone—I cherish is at stake.