𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 | 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

the poison [thranduil]

You rolled the poison bottle back and forth across the desk. The liquid inside glimmered with devilish possibility. Clear as day, you could see your father's face and hear his words so vibrantly in your mind.

'You will become an assassin. There is no doubt about that.'

And an assassin you were.

It was approaching dusk, and the festivity would soon be upon the Woodland Realm. Readying yourself and taking the vile in hand, it would not be long before Thranduil was dead, and you would never have been caught. From a distance, he looked selfish; with his trailing snow-like locks grazing his back. From a distance, you could see how his face was shrewd, how he curled it into greed at the slightest incorrect thing. As you approached him, the disdain on his face was even clearer and it vexed you so. There was no elf quite like him whom you despised so much.

It was simple; you'd kiss the hand of the King, offer him a drink, and voila- no more King Thranduil. You could envision it; how prosperous, generous, and noble the Woodland Realm would be without that meaningless King. If it weren't for him, your mother would still be alive, but Thranduil's unwillingness to help any race beyond his own borders decided your mother's fate. Feeling the sickness of his rule upon your skin, a visible shiver made the guards look your way.

'Ah, my dear...' Thranduil spoke, looking down on you as he did with everyone who he deemed lesser than himself, 'I was expecting you. Feast. Drink. This night is a remarkable one that'll never be forgotten.'

That, I'm sure of, you thought, but simply smiling at him and dragging yourself away. It wouldn't be long before he was led upon the wooden ground- lifeless & cold.

Thranduil's love of wine was evident with the bottles, goblets and barrels dotted all over the tables and floor. He had now danced willingly with many elves, yet you were the last to catch his eye, for you had refused every dance and he felt as though you weren't fulfilling what the festivity had to offer. He took another goblet from the table and swayed his way over to you.

'Won't you dance?'

'I feel it best that I don't, my King.'

He pouted. 'Such a pity, for I'd like you to be my last dance of the night.'

'And if I refused the hand of the King?' you smirked at him.

'Severe consequences.' he smiled a little from the corner of his pale lips.

Taking his slender hand in yours, he whisked you around the dancefloor and caused you to imitate rapture for longer than you wanted. This was a golden opportunity.

'May we get a drink?'

He gestured forwards and you skipped in the direction of the wine, Thranduil stood behind you. You emptied the vile into his drink and turned to him, handing him the goblet. His white ring shone against the silver. The King paused; your breath hitched too.

'I think not- I do believe I would quite enjoy the spiced wine at this moment, would you care to try some?'

'No thank you, my Lord.' Better luck next time. You could tell your father would be swearing upon the Grey Havens at this moment- how you had failed. 'But one more dance, if we may?'

'My pleasure.'

His hand in yours, held highly above your heads, you maintained eye contact with him the entire time. His cold eyes- those soulless eyes. You found yourself then close to him, close to his chest and head. Drowning out the other bustling noises, the music hushed his whispers even more.

'Your father would be so proud to see you dancing with the King, don't you think?'

Shaking off your anger for how Thranduil spoke so of your father, you replied with a tone so low it was almost inaudible. 'I believe he would.'

'He taught you well.' your Lord spoke again.

'I miss him.'

'You do?' he seemed genuinely startled.

'Why wouldn't I, my Lord? He was my father after all.'

'But did he love you as much as he made out to, my dear?'

'My Lord?' you questioned, head whipping from beneath his chin and to face him, still continuing to dance, not stopping to arouse suspicion.

'You see...you weren't the only one raised to be an assassin.'

Your lungs felt on the verge of collapse, your knees about to buckle and your mind a whirring machine.

'Now, keep in time my dear, we wouldn't want to cause a fuss. You see, once our borders were infiltrated, he personally begged that I send your mother out with the guard. Alas, when your mother had lost her life, he then began training me. Training me to kill. And thus, he relayed his plan for your execution too.'

'I don't understa-' you lingered, noticing the needle sticking from the cuff of his gown that had pierced your hand already. For a moment you brought your hand away and stopped dancing with elves beginning to look from a distance. 'You're lying.'

'In fact, I am not.'

'There's no frightening me with a needle.' you said, a little too cocky for you then realised how Thranduil had two heads.

A concerned elf passed by. 'A preposterous amount of wine.' lied the King.

'What have you done to me?'

'You thought the poison your father gave you was all he collected? Such a shame. He kept you in the dark for quite a while, I'll give him that, my dear.'

You had begun tripping over your feet now. '...Help...' you attempted to quiver. Nothing loud enough escaped you for the music was drowning you, amongst all your other overwhelmed senses.

'Nothing or no one can help you now,' he said devilishly, pulling you close to his cheek where you felt nothing but malice, 'So long.'

Your whole body went limp; you had fallen to the floor and Thranduil had made it seem that he caught you.

'Help...' he whispered, looking down so that no other being saw his sickening smile. 'Help.'