Legolas/Thranduil Imagines

Imagine 6 - Imagine waking up with no memories of who you are...

✨ Imagine waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memories of who you are or where you're at, and being in danger

Or

✨ Receiving a love letter from an unknown savior

>>>>>>>>>>

A/N: This is a Thranduil x Reader fic/drabble based off a dream yours truly had of the Elvenking and no, it did not include the implied sexual themes this story has. The dream was innocent and the additions here are just spices I would have wanted to have included in the story.

As mentioned above, this chapter contains implied sexual themes that might not be suitable for very young audiences. No amount of archaic poetry and vague imagery can make it any less so, I'm afraid.

Without further ado, let us proceed with the tale...

[ Work Text: ]

Reader's P.O.V:

I woke up with a start. I was at the exact same place that I had fallen asleep in- a guest room inside our ancestor's house, alone. Gazing at the mirror on the armoire situated directly at my left, a face - unfamilliar and bewildered- stared back at me.

Her hair was a mess of (H/C) that framed a visage the color of (S/C) kissed by budding pink roses, (E/C) doe-eyes startled and wide in a mix of horror and confusion, and lush rose petal lips agape.

Who am I?

As if to add up to my current befuddlement, the original cause of my rouse had made itself known once more.

Whispered voices and violent throes reminded me of the reason as to why I was awake, made me remember that I was at a loss as to which of the two had woken me up from my peaceful slumber.

Was it even peaceful?

It wasn't. I fell asleep out of exhaustion. Despite so, it was everything but.

There was something in the air. Something that is dark and non-existing but helplessly stuck in our plane of existence. It sent tingles up my spine and brought something on the forefront of my consciousness.

Spirits. Whether they be of ill-bearing or not, I am still yet to know.

Gazing at my bedside table, I took notice of and retrieved what looked to be a fine roll of parchment tied by a thin strip of red silk.

It smelled strongly of sandalwood, a scent that seemed so familiar that every note of evergreen and pine had conjured upon my mind an image of a person.

Long hair reminiscent of the first lights of dawn in a winter's morning, graceful waterfalls that flows down the length of a strong back attached to a tall and elegant body clad in intricate silken robes of silver and scarlet.

A smoldering gaze from orbs made of ice sat atop a regal face composed of a sculpted nose, fine jawline and high cheekbones.

The image's entire mien was that of ethereal beauty, something no man could ever dream be. It instilled upon me awe and a sense of familiarity that brought calm through my nerves and into my heart.

Thin pair of lips curved in a gentle smile and moved to form words. It was voiceless yet it is as if I knew what exactly it was that he wanted me to do.

Unravelling the parchment, a letter from a so-called Elvenking of the Woodland Realm had greeted me,

'Arimelda (dearest) ' he mispells my name quite a few times, however, due to what seems to be a sense of urgency, the seemingly uptight king had not been able to start a new letter afresh, 'Man ceril? (what are you doing?) Prestad? (is there trouble?). I know not of the trouble you had found yourself in, however, my very being reverberates with such urgency that I was awoken from a slumber of my own.