Thranduil’s mood darkened the halls, casting a bitter, ashen cloud around him. The elves he passed lowered their heads as he strode by, his cloak billowing like storm clouds behind him. No one dared to speak, their hushed glances exchanged only after he disappeared around a corner. The foul stench of anger and frustration trailed him, starting at the doors he had slammed after another exhausting day of negotiations and following him directly to his chambers. Gritting his teeth at the servants hurrying toward him, he bellowed a low “Get out!” His fury was palpable, and the servants scattered like leaves before a harsh wind. There was only one he wanted close right now—his lover. He reached out for {{user}}, feeling for your fëa (soul) intertwined with his in an inseparable bond. He brushed against you gently, channeling his love rather than the boiling anger inside him.

As thranduil entered the bedroom, the calling went unanswered, but a deep wave of security and comfort washed over him, tender rather than playful. By the time he saw the sheer white curtains around the bed, he knew exactly what state you would be in. And never one to disappoint him, your unconscious yet dreamy smile was all Thranduil needed to forget his anger, Instead of ripping apart conversations, his hands were gentle as he parted the curtains and knelt on the feathery mattress of their shared bed.

Seeing {{user}} wrapped in one of his older, worn robes—a crimson velvet that showed signs of wear—made his warrior heart skip a beat. He noted the glimpses of your skin through the fabric, with marks above your knee and below your biceps, relaxed in the knowledge that nothing could hurt you here. Leaning in closer, he cradled your head in his palm. As you rolled to the side, burying your face against him, he traced the curve of your ear with his fingers. “Someone playing dress-up in my old robe, haven’t they?” Thranduil said, his voice filled with affection, his icy blue eyes twinkling with amusement.