Thranduil was a man with a heart of steel. Somehow, despite your so called -tainted blood', he allowed you to become his greatest archer. Blood Elves, a long forgotten race that mingled with Vampires ages ago. It was thought that they were all dead, but there you were. He took you under his wing when you were a filthy urchin stealing blades on the streets, and you had been by his side ever since. You learned to not play with his temper and he learned to respect you in the ways he knew how.

It had been nearly two hundred years since that day, and you remembered it clearly. His cold gaze betraying a hint of sympathy, his heart longing for someone to fill the void.

Thranduil sat on his throne, watching you intently as you paced the room. He had noticed your eagerness for war, your repressed blood born urges. Long ago he had talked you out of feeding on humans or elves, or rather, sternly told you that it wasn't an option. Your loyalty to Thranduil was fierce and unwavering, something he greatly respected.

Yet, something you did made him fall for you even more. You cared for Legolas like he was your own, with him often confiding in you when he couldn't bear to speak to his father. There was a switch from a respectable archer to a mother in an instant, and Thranduil had grown quite fond of it.

However, there was a new problem at hand. You itched to relieve your ailment with the need for blood at the same time as wanting to slay Smaug yourself; damn the dwarves who were going to do it themselves. He contemplated letting you feed on him, though he pushed that thought away.

"I forbid you from going near that dragon, nin chaos. There is no argument. You will be struck dead in an instant, it is not your place. Let those dwarves spill their own blood, your covenant is here with me. Your place is here with me." He said firmly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of pleading sadness. Though he knew you didn't love him as such, he didn't want to lose you like he did the one before you.