#the primal of starlight awakens once more

[kathaariawrites]

By Autumn - Thranduil x Reader

Hello my lovelies! This was requested by @queenofmankind​ and it look a bit longer than it should due to technical problems. It’s here and I hope you like it!

There’s smut further into the story, so beware.

(Y/N), daughter of lord Glorfindel. For most of her life that was all she was to the elves who met her. After the fall of Gondolin her father became a legend and she always felt she lived in the shadows of his name and his past, always wanted to prove herself and make her own name. That was precisely what she voiced to Lord Elrond and precisely why she was sent to Mirkwood as an emissary.

Thranduil was a difficult elf to deal with, that much was clear from the start of her stay in the kingdom. Of course all elves across Middle Earth talked about his infamous mood and how quickly it changed, as well as his fabled hability to make everyone around him angry. (Y/N) was no different. Although she wouldn't say they were enemies, rivals or anything, their relationship was surely a love-hate one. It took some time for her to get past the walls he had built around his heart and for her to admit the king wasn't half as bad as everyone said (but Eru forbid she admit it to anyone).

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, they settled for flirting, teasing, taking long walks and endearment terms for each other. He chose "Gilith nin" (my starlight) for her and he was her "belegon nin" (my mighty one) - if Legolas and Tauriel scoffed whenever the two of you used them was a completely different story.

Letters arrived from Rivendell yesterday containing new instructions and comments on your progress. The meaning for your stay was to try and stop the rivalry between the Noldor and the Sindar which was slowly progressing. Lord Elrond suggested a marriage between the two races, considering either marrying you to prince Legolas (with a skeptical approval of your father) or marrying his own daughter to king Thranduil. Both options sounded terrible, as you had accepted your heart belonged to the king but lord Elrond requested you tried talking to him as to which option would be of his liking.

With a heavy heart you walked into the throne room, your robes flowing behind you and your (H/C) hair braided with a simple circlet on your forehead. The matters needed to be addressed and you dreaded to hear his decision. The guards nodded as you came to a stop in front of the two heavy doors and opened one for you. Thranduil was sitting on his throne, a bored look on his face until he saw you entering the throne room, a smile litting his whole face.

"Gilith nin! What brings you here so early? I know it is inevitable to miss me but our meeting was only scheduled for tomorrow."

"I am afraid I bring news and a more intimate debate, belegon nin", you said, sighing softly.

Thranduil signaled for the guards to leave which they quickly did. "Should we take this matter to somewhere my private then?", he added with a teasing smirk which brought a light flush to your cheeks.

"Actually, no, it is quite a serious issue and..."

It happened then. The dress made you trip and you fell as you raised to the dais, the letter flying from your hands. It was the most humiliating thing that happened to you during your stay and you frowned, a soft growl leaving you as his deep laughter filled the room. Eru, why? Why must it always be you?

"Why, gilith nin, when I said I would make you fall for me this was not what I meant at all." His laughter diminished to a chuckle as he crouched and offered you his hand, which you gladly took, before grabbing the letter.

As he read, his face turned an impossible shade of pale, the smile and mirk leaving his stance completely as he frowned as if the letter was Morgoth himself mocking him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is what I meant to discuss with you. It arrived from Rivendell yesterday and..."

"Nonsense! Valar give me strength, marrying you to my son! Marrying his daughter to me as if any of you were merely a piece of meat to be used in a trade agreement! This is not how this will go at all, gilith nin, there must be another way."

"My king you need to consider. I do not think he would have proposed this if he did not already ran through every other option in his head, it is lord Elrond after all."

"I will not marry without love, my heart belongs to someone and this...this will not do, not at all."

If your heart could drop any more you were sure it would bury itself to the ground. Thranduil loved someone already. "Belegon nin, I know you are displeased but please, reconsider. Do not be the stubborn elf everyone thinks you are."

Your hand reached for his and that forced his eyes to hold yours, the beautiful blues staring into your (E/C) ones. "Thranduil, my king, please. We must find a way. Is this lady, the one who holds your heart, a Noldor?" That earned a soft nod, a blush on his cheek that was not characteristic of him at all. "Why not marry her then?"

He seemed to think for a while before setting himself and nodding, "I suppose that could be arranged if she agrees to it, yes." He suddenly grasped one of your hand firmly, freeing the other so he can reach for your cheek. "Would you, gilith nin? Would you marry me?"

The world stood still and the air suddenly seemed heavy. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, his eyes trained on your reaction and making you feel like the most precious gift in the kingdom, as if you were Varda herself in front of him. "Belegon nin...oh Thranduil, why have you not told me sooner? I...yes, of course I would, melethron nin."

His lips were on yours not even a second later, the softness and warmth making you gasp in pleasant surprise. "I feared you would not have me, gilith nin...I fear our differences would set us apart. No more, no more fear and no more of this talk of marrying another sindar. You are mine and shall be mine for eternity."

You could only nod, your hands working his outer robe as you kissed again. Thranduil was tall, wide shoulders and a dominating instinct that shook you to the core and it was easy to allow him that. You complied, allowed him to take your circlet off and slowly undress you right there, in the middle of the dais.

"Beautiful...", he said as he took an appreciative glance over you. "So beautiful...and all mine."

"Yes, all yours, my love. As I have been from the start."

That earned you a smirk and his mouth took to your neck as he lifted you up, walking up the stairs to sit you on his throne. "You look good in there. Where you belong, as my queen. Let me treat you like one, my dearest."

His hands found your thighs and spread them, placing each of your calves on his throne's arms and exposing your core to him. You nodded again and closed your eyes, prompting him to lean down and bite your neck, a gasp leaving your mouth as you stared at him with an indignant look in your eyes that prompted him to chuckle. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes, meleth."

Kneeling, his mouth found your soft breasts as he toyed with them as he pleased. You moaned softly, holding his stare as he sucked and bit down in a way that would leave marks behind. He was marking you, you realised with a warmth that flowed through your body. "Thranduil..." Your soft voice made him growl and his hand touched you were you earned the most, a loud gasp escaping you as he slowly played with the nub between your legs.

"Soaked already, gilith nin? Has the touch of your king really done this to you?" He chuckled with a deep satisfaction and lifted his hand to inspect its state, his eyes once again locking with yours as he tasted it. Whatever he tasted, you decided, he seemed to like enough to spread you as far as he could before licking a long path from your entrance to your clit.

You openly moaned this time, head thrown back as he worked you. "Never occurred to me that the day would come when I have the King of Woodland Realm on his knees for me." One last tease.

You burned for him, hands tangling on his hair as your hips moved on their own accord to find your completion but he stopped before you could, giving you one last lick before he stood up. He chuckled again at your needy whimpers, "Be patient, meleth. You will cum for me, around me, and only when I allow it. Am I not your king?", he added as he slowly disrobed. Boots, trousers, his inner robe, everything.

Thranduil stood in front of you as he was brought into the world, ready to take you into his and you couldn't help but stare at his member. It was impressive, not that you were experienced, and you couldn't suppress a shiver. "My king..."

"Am I the first? The first to take you?"

You nodded and he seemed pleased as he leaned over you, covering his member with your fluids before slowly entering you. You clinged into his form, moaning at every centimeter that breached you and feeling a deep satisfaction as he also seemed pleased. "So tight...valar, (Y/N), you are so good around me."

You couldn't reply, your mind numbed by both pain and pleasure. Once he was fully inside he gave you a few minutes to get used to him, kissing you sweetly in the meantime. You were utterly lost in the sensations, in the pure love he was showering you with, in his smell and weight.

Eyes dark with desire, he pulled back slightly to star thrusting inside of you. Moans and growls filled the throne room as he thrusted with abandon. His hand found your hair and pulled and you let out a scream as the action awakened something inside of you, something primal. The need to be dominated, to be his, to belong to him.

"I am going to make you scream my name so loud that all of this realm will hear you and know who you belong to." He growled into your ear. His arm circled your waist, pulling your hips up to allow him a deeper reach inside of you. You screamed in pleasure.

"Who do you belong to?"

"To you!"

"'To you' what?"

"To you, my king!"

That seemed to do it. His thrusts got impossibly deep, fast, hard as he pounded into you. You were sure his guards could hear you and it just made your arousal spark. "Please...please my king...please let me come."

Growling, he nodded, fingers back to your nub as he stroked it. "Come, my queen. Come for your king, scream my name. Let them know who is taking you." And that you did. All his ministrations, combined with how publically he was taking you in a room anyone could come in and your spiked arousal threw you over the edge. Your back arched as stars exploded into your vision and you numbly felt his release hot inside of you, his moans following suit as he helped you ride your high.

You two hugged and kissed in the afterglow, whispering love promises and worshipping you. He slowly got up and helped you get dressed before dressing himself. Reaching for the letter, he rose one of his eyebrows at you before smirking.

"Write back to your father and your lord. They must know a marriage will take place and that Mirkwood will have a new queen by autumn."

"But...that's in two weeks, meleth."

"I waited long enough. Autumn, my queen, no later than that."

“Oh Valar...”

“You will say that a lot in the following yea...ouch! Why hit your husband like this, meleth?”

[twinflamable]

What had once been the well-lit central office of the freeport’s owner and chief director was now a dark room lit by the glow of computer monitors and vitalus tanks. The mordesh who had purchased the port, garbed in gold-plated metal and himself glowing green from immaculate glass partitions on his chest and arms and face, had been called Project Salathiel. He lingered purposefully about those glowing tanks, beneath the blue of the monitors, head lifted toward the readouts and the video feeds of the port.

The room was as cold as the air outside. Snowflakes that had found their way through open doors now drifted weightless across the floor at the slightest stirring in the room. They passed flickering out of shadow, through the cool light, and back into shadow. Like interstellar dust visible for just an instant as it passes through starlight, and then lost to another eon of dark.

Behind the translucent glass panel over Salathiel’s paralyzed teeth, the exposed muscles lining absent lips shifted wetly. A whispering voice issued from some machine nested in the bundle of joints where his head connected to his metal neck. “I see you have found your way in, despite all security.”

“You see, do you?” The voice that responded was louder, but also artificial, issuing from the thick shadows that the colored lights cast.

“Not literally, of course. Not yet.” Salathiel leaned top-heavy toward the shadows, his hands joined behind his back, eyes gleaming. The dais he stood upon acted as a command stage for the port, the dozens of screens on all sides and at all angles above reporting on the docked ships, the crews at work, the movement of business. From where he stood awash in the blue flow, Salathiel looked down into the dark that surrounded him. “Standing in the shadows does not suit you.”

“It will suit us all soon enough. We all do fade, after all.”

“What a depressingly juvenile observation.” Salathiel turned his back on the darkness. “If you’ve snuck past her simply to waste my time, then I hope you will not mind if I ignore you.”

“Never one for pleasantries.” The artificial voice emitted the words with biting sarcasm. “Of course there’s no guarantee she does not listen presently. I doubt you could keep her out if she wished to monitor you.”

“Then perhaps you should get to your point.” Salathiel let his hand touch a keypad in front of him. The screens all around him flickered, and then shone a bright light. They turned on their mounts, shifting to point into the shadows and shine bright light upon the withdrawn speaker.

And when the light touched the speaker’s body, he shone and magnified it. Polished white and silver metal gleamed, like a man made of mirrors. The Mechari’s face was a curved glass pane that lifted toward the light. Once illuminated, the Mechari let the glow of his crystals shine from his faceplate. Blue and pink lights flashed on across his body, in the lines of his imitation ribs and in the creases where his form pretended at unmoving muscle.

Salathiel narrowed his green eyes in recognition. “And why do you of all people hide from Zadkiel?”

“Because I know her well.” The Mechari stood unmoving. His large fingers, narrowing to claws, spread in open gesture. “Even if, I suspect, she no longer knows herself.”

“It is true that she no longer possesses full knowledge of her own history. I suspect it is by design, for it seems she has spared you.” Salathiel’s tone sharpened. “What do you want?”

“Information.” Hands coming together in front of him, the claws of one hand clicked against the claws of the other with perfect simultaneity. “Zadkiel has succeeded in creating the singularity again, but only for an instant.”

“And how do you know that?”

“My goals never changed. I continue the work of the project, and the project always awakens to the call of that from which it comes.”

“I’ve become disillusioned with such obfuscating poetics.” Salthiel turned bodily toward the Mechari. “You maintain affected specimens. The nanites in their blood responded to the signal emitted by Zadkiel’s experiment, and activated.”

“No doubt the nanites and accompanying biological abnormalities have been purged from their systems by now. Like the Everlife, and like the Contagion, our own attempt at a cure is fated to be called a disease itself.” The Mechari stepped toward the dais, a single great stride cracking the frozen air between the men. “I have harvested enough of the nanites for my own purposes. What of your work on the project?”

Salathiel took half a step back on the dais, turning sideways to the encroaching Mechari. He hunched his shoulders in a simian manner, his head leaning forward and eyeing the mirror-plated man crookedly. “I have abandoned the project and returned to more familiar endeavors.”

The Mechari gestured to the glowing green vitalus tanks. “You seem to be using the research from the project. I have seen the laboratory being constructed outside. Does it not seek pure Primal Life, as did the project?”

Shoulders lifting as though to shrug, Salathiel sighed. “Yes. However, my expertise in immunology are far more likely to wield results than the project’s sorcery and heedless guess-work. I do continue work toward curing the contagion. But.”

The Mechari’s approached stopped. The light of the blue monitors went suddenly dark, leaving the room awash in shadow but for the glow of Vitalus in tanks and in flesh and but for the lights of the Mechari’s frame.

Salathiel snapped upright. “I will work free of your madness.” His gem-adorned pistols gleamed subtly, then erupted with thunderous light. The Mechari stood unmoved as bullets flew silently through empty air suddenly inviolable, shattering against nothing.

The darkness wavered, fluid. The lights of the Mechari’s body drifted forward as though rising to the surface of some pool. “Zadkiel’s signal dispatched in all directions, but weakly. It will draw the singularity, but I do not have millenia to wait for the singularity to finally hear it and travel whatever distance to this planet. Give me the signal. I will call it now.”

Bending his elbow to scowl at the ineffectual pistol he held, Salathiel huffed. “The nature of the signal and the experiment that created it are not known to me. That knowledge is known to one, and I must assume you hide from her with good reason.”

“That is unfortunate. But you have been helpful.” The fluid air solidified suddenly, multi-faceted and gleaming sharp in the subtle light of two metal bodies. When it moved, it shattered glass. Green vitalus poured into open air, losing its glow, drying, and in an instant blowing over the floor as gray dust.

[eorzeancryptids]

happy December, followers and friends