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Shame & Pain & Love

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He always thought he would die in battle. Strangely, as much as his father had tried to raise him and trained him to be a worthy prince and heir of the throne of Mirkwood, he actually felt more like a warrior, so yes, he had trouble picturing himself ruling for an eternity, but had instead always imagined that he would eventually found his death in the battle field.That sounded like a good way to go, he thought, fighting the enemy, full of honour, making his loved ones proud, specially his father, the one he cared for and loved the most.

But now, kneeling on a cold foreing stone floor, head bowed in shame, with tears clouding his eyes and silent cries and pleas escaping his lips, with a blade threatening to cut his throat, now he knew this was how he was going to die, and it wasn't honorable, but shameful, it wasn't fighting, but defeated, begging for forgiveness, and far more important, it wasn't at the hand of the enemy, but of his own father.

Thranduil had a fire in his eyes that held a rage, verging on madness, that he had never seen in his father before, with tears of his own, his jaw clenched in a way that had to be painful, his hand, although almost imperceptible, trembling while he held his sword against his son's neck.

Legolas knew that there was nothing, no one thing, he could say to make everything right, but he had to say something, anything, and not even to save his life, for if his father didn't kill him in that moment he would do it himself, but because he needed to make Thranduil understand, even if after that his father felt nothing but hate and disgust toward him, he at least would make him see before leaving this world. So Legolas tried his best to stop his sobbing and regain his voice the best he could, he lifted his head but just barely, still without finding the courage to look at the face of his father again.

"I... i am so s-sorry. I swear i never ment for th-this to happen. I just could not help..."

" You just could not help what?! Legolas. What?! help to forget your position as a prince?! to forget your race?! even your gender for Valar's sake?!"

"P-please, forgive me..."

He tried almost as a silent plea that went unheard by Thranduil that wasn't ready to stop his words now.

"...are you really that desperate for physical contact that you would throw yourself to a dwarf?! and of all of them... to HIM?! Is this the son i raised?! Tell me Legolas! because all this centuries i thought i was raising a prince, a future king, when aparently all i did was to raise the future King Under the Mountain's WHORE!"

Legolas knew he deserved every single one of this words, but that didn't relieved the pain he felt at hear them. He even started to think of his father's blade as something more merciful.

"Stop...please, i know how... wrong it was, but i beg you, let me explain, i..."

"Why did you call him THAT?"

At that Legolas couldn't keep himself from looking at his father, eyes wide in horror. It was said fast and in a lower voice, almost like a broken whisper that while it didn't matched the rage in Thranduil's eyes, it certainly matched his tears, almost about to be spilled.

"You want to explain something? start with that."

His father insisted. There it was, the confirmation of the question that he had been making himself in silent since he found out they had been discovered by his father mere minutes ago. The single one of all the many noises he knew he had made while being roughly taken by Thorin that night of passion, the one sound Legolas had started to pray his father had missed. It was just one word, one simple word but he knew he had repeated it constantly while he reached his climax in all fours facing the cold floor. Now he was sure... his father knew EVERYTHING, and he was just waiting for him to confirm it, and he had thought that he was ready to die and so to tell his father the truth from his own lips before that, but now he couldn't. He just froze, eyes wide looking at Thranduil, mouth open from the words he try but failed to pronounce. He felt so disgusted with himself so how could his father felt any different? He closed his eyes, bowed his head again and more tears start falling.

"Do not protect him Legolas! just tell me!"

Thranduil said while removing his sword from his son's throat. Legolas knew he should just say out loud what they both already knew, but he just remained silent, still sobbing like a child.

"I knew he was a disgusting greedy dwarf. I just never imagined the perversion of his nature."

Hearing this, Legolas raised his head in astonishment because 'how was any of what had happened Thorin's fault?' he wondered observing his father, who had turned around and was now talking to himself at loud,one hand clenched in a fist, the other in a strong grip on his sword.

"Oh, you think yourself so smart Thorin Oakenshield, so clever. But i can see right through this little plan of yours. Corrupting my son's... my only son's mind with such repulsive acts! even making him say m... argh! i don't even what to remember that! You knew that i would find out, and blind by rage i would intent to kill you. Denying our ancestor's gems, our legacy didn't work, but this would certainly do it. For THIS i would go to war."

Legolas couldn't believe what he was hearing, his father thought this whole mess to be some tricky evil plan of Thorin to create an excuse for war between elves and dwarf. So 'he doesn't really know?' he asked to himself, but that thought was quickly replaced for another one, a more important one, and this one he couldn't keep in silent.

"Wait! what?... go to war?" No, it couldn't be, his father couldn't be really considering start a war for what had happened. If blood was to be spilled, either of dwarves or elves or most likely both, for his stupid lust and need it would be on him, and he would never forgive himself. He had to do something, to say anything to stop his father.

"No, please, it wasn't like that Ada..."

He tried, but the last vocal of the word died in his lips as Thranduil, in that very second, tightened even more his grip on the hilt of his sword, turned around in front of his son and hit him hard on the face with the pommel of it in a lighting swing of his arm. Legolas, unprepared, was thrown from his kneeling position, supporting himself in the last second with his left hand on the floor just before hitting it with his side when his father's sword connected with his right cheek. He couldn't help the pain sound that escaped him. Legolas didn't dare to try to rise from his new position but when he looked up, he saw in his father's eyes shame and pain but above all.. hate.

"DON'T - YOU - EVER... CALL ME THAT AGAIN! i don't want to heard that word coming from your mouth NEVER AGAIN! the same... for some sick deviant reason he must have made you call him, and you... so easily... gave in."

Legolas didn't even felt pain in his face for all it aches in him was his heart. He thought he could die from so much pain. Thranduil straightened his posture, pointed his head a little higher, his gaze turned ice cold and he continued.

"My son was a honored man, he had pride and bravery, he never needed to walk in the shadows out of shame, never had a reason to lower his head. I no longer see that man in front of me."

Thranduil stopped for more seconds and if it wasn't for the cold of his eyes and the firmness of his voice, Legoas would have thought that it was hesitance what stopped his father. But then he continued.

"I release you. I release you from your obligations, your duties, your position and all that implies. You are no longer Prince of Mirkwood, heir to the throne."

And with that he started walking away in direction at the closer door. Legolas could do nothing but to cried like the child he had proved he no longer was, while watching his father leaving him behind, alone, in shame and despair, wondering how could everything have come to this?

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Legolas didn't exactly recall when some of his most deepest feelings had started. Like the love for his parents, although he of course knew it had to be in his early years, the loyalty he felt towards his kind, and his dislike for the dwarfs, which he was certain it came from his father but when he felt it truly as his own dislike, he did not know.

Like all those feelings, this one in particular, he couldn't tell when it had begun, or why, but he knew exactly the moment that had triggered his mind into recognize it. He had always had a strong bond with his father, especially after his mother had passed away. They were so close and, despite of Thranduil's apparent coldness, Legolas had always felt just how much his father loved him.

In time, his childish and innocent love had grown into admiration, respect and the most deepest devotion, to the point that every one of his actions was aimed to please Thranduil and make him feel proud of him. His father knew this and while he kept encouraging him to never stop pushing his limits, he acknowledged and gave him credit for every achieved goal, silently celebrating them with the most proud and loving smile.

Yes, his father loved him, and Legolas loved him more than anything else in the whole Middle Earth. To him, the feeling was natural as breathing and it felt as good as admire the distant stars in the clear summer sky. Legolas really missed that time, the time when the love he felt for his father was something pure and right, instead of the depraved and forbidden burning passion it had later become.

The decisive breaking point, between what it was and what it should have never been, took place a couple of months ago on a warm spring night.

Mirkwood, thanks to the enormous effort of the elven guard, had been quiet and calmed, so that day Thranduil had decided to go for a walk in the woods without his escorts. It truly pained him to see what once had been Greenwood the Great reduced to a place plagued of orcs and other despicable creatures, so in peaceful days like those he allowed himself to be nostalgic and roam on his own. Legolas, however, wasn't ready to take any risks when it came to his father's safety, so he decided to follow him in secret just in case.

Thranduil walked most of the day, contemplating and admiring the ancient trees, reveling in the spring fragrances, amazed by the most simple things that surrounded him, and for some reason, Legolas thought, everything in the woods looked like coming back to life with every step his father made, as if being infected of grace and elegance and beauty, his father's grace and elegance and... but Legolas stopped himself before he could finish the thought.

'what am i thinking?' he wondered with amusement but without really thinking much of it.

At least not until later that day, when the night came, and Thranduil had apparently decided to take a bathe in a small waterfall, surrounded by rocks and hidden by the trees. His father had then started for his crown, he removed it from his head and carefully placed it on the ground. His robe followed it and then his boots.

The full moon illuminated most of the lake in which the waterfall flowed, but there was still some places covered by the shadows and Legolas didn't even think before moving from one tree branch to another to get a clearer view. But now, as Thranduil had begun to take the rest of his clothes off, the idea of what he was doing started to sink in.

'I'm... i'm spying on my father' he realized 'and above all, trying to... to see him undressed?!'

Every layer of cloth laid now on the floor except for his leggings, which he was working open. At some point, Legolas's heartbeats had raced and so had his breathing. His father's body was indeed beautiful, every muscle was perfect, his shoulders, his back, his hips and... Legolas didn't know if he should feel thankful or angry that his current position only allowed him to watch Thranduil from behind. The thought horrified him.

'What am i doing? what am i even thinking?!'

He then tried to avert his eyes, to look away, but just in that moment his father took the last remnants of his clothes off and sank into the lake to the waist. Legolas's lips then parted but he restrained himself from making any sound. His eyes were now fixed in the other elf's movements, the way he delicately rubbed his body with his hands, the way he led his head back trying to get more of his golden hair wet, the soft 'mmm...' that for moments escaped his father's mouth. It was all too much and before he could control it, a moan left his own mouth. He tried to cover it with his hands but it was too late, Thranduil must have heard because he had turned around and was now in an alert position.

Legolas was so ashamed and scared at the possibility that his father found him there, that he run off trying not to make any more noises. It wasn't until he was at a safe distance that he noticed the discomfort between his legs. 'No... no no no, how can this be? how could i...?' but he couldn't even say it to himself, he was so embarrassed.

When Legolas finally reached his chambers he couldn't help the flow of tears and screams that had been searching their way out.

All the way back to the palace he had been trying to convince himself that the situation was not as bad as it looked, that he'll just let it go, forget about everything and never think of what he had felt back there. What he had felt... 'was it...?' no, he didn't want to put a word on it, it seemed to him that it would only make the whole thing more real.

He told himself that everything was going to be fine, he just needed to forget and everything would go back to normal. It was a good plan, except that he couldn't forget and everything went from bad to worse since that day.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed to that cursed day in the woods, Legolas tried his best to avoid his father. He knew it was something childish to do, after it all it hadn't meant anything, as he kept telling himself, but he still couldn't face Thranduil. He was certain that he hadn't been seen, otherwise his father would have said something, but still, the mere idea of seeing him brought him a strange feeling, like an uneasiness. The few times they did ran into each other, mostly because Thranduil was trying to, Legolas felt his heart race and his cheeks burn.



'This is not right. What is wrong with me now? It was an accident and... and is not even the first time i see another man naked.'


In his many trips to patrol the limits of the kingdom, in shared tents and baths in the river, he had indeed saw the other warriors in the same state of nudity, but he had never stared like he had done that night in the lake. Yes, that was the word... stared. When the realization hit him he started to panic.


'I... stared... and i... LIKED IT?!' the thought crept into his mind and infected it like a virus.


The first nights after he saw his father in the woods had been tough, plagued with dreams about what he had been able to see. But the ones that followed the realization of the fact that he had actually liked it, were even worst, those ones, full of fantasies of what he HADN'T been able to see... to do.

One particularly hot night, his dreams were vivid as ever. He could smell the spring fragrances, still printed on his mind from that day, sense the warm breeze in his face and the chill in his body as he entered the lake to join his father.

He walked slowly, trying not to make a sound, the water reaching a little above his waist. He had never felt any kind of attraction to a man's body, but not even one of the few females he had bedded in his life had managed to race his heart in this way neither. He was mesmerized by sight in front of him.

His father was... 'beautiful' he thought as he continued to advance further on until he was right behind him. Only then did Thranduil seemed to hear him and slowly turned around. His posture as proud and elegant as always, his breathing even, his head held high while his eyes traveled from Legolas's face to the rest of the portion of his body not covered by the water. His father's expresion, however, was unreadable.

In that moment, Legolas froze. Having his father's gaze on him made him forget it was all just a dream. Was he angry? disgusted? probably both. Either way, he needed to know.


"Ada i... i swear i do not meant to... to feel this way. I mean..."




"It just happened and i do not know how or why or when! i have been telling myself it was the day I followed, but i think... it may... have... been before? i..."




"I know, i'm sick! i know, i do not deserve you Ada." And he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks now. "I'm sorry... i'm so sorry. Just... tell me how angry you are, how much i have disappointed you, the failure of son i am. I already know so... just say it, but please... say something."


And by now he had averted his eyes, he just couldn't keep looking at his father eyes after all he had confessed.




And just then did Legolas realized that THAT was all his father had said since... that was just ALL he had said. And so he remembered he was dreaming.

It all had felt so real and he, apparently, had such a need to tell the truth to his father, that he had lost himself in that ilusion.

Now he understood. His father didn't said anything else because he himself didn't know what his reaction would be if he confessed what he had just confessed.


"So you will not say anything then. Not one thing? You are just going to stand there and...?" And so the wickedest thought crossed his mind. "Just stand there and... let me do... as i please?"


He waited a second in case that provoked any effect in his father's behavior, but when nothing changed he moved a little closer. Legolas then put one hesitant hand on his father's shoulder, the other one softly on the base of his neck, gently guiding his head a little lower while tilting his own head up and finally reaching his father's lips.

At first, the kiss was chaste, sweet, like full of the pure love of a son for his father. It wasn't until after a couple of minutes that a burning passion took over.

Legolas pushed his tongue against his father's lips, who responded by opening his mouth and letting him in. The sensation was like nothing he had ever experimented before.

He couldn't believe what was happening. There were they, under the brightest moonlight, in the middle of a lake, wet bodies pressed against each other, kissing. It was all too much and when a hot need rose on his body, Legolas couldn't help to moan on his father's mouth. At this, Thranduil parted his face a little, like knowing his son needed the air. His eyes still expressionless, the only sound leaving his lips...




But Legolas didn't wanted the distance between them, in fact, he needed exactly the opposite, as he was getting harder and harder at every passing second.


"Ahh... Ada. I can not take it any more. Please... would you t-touch me?"


And if it was all just a dream, he didn't wanted wake up, because Thranduil's hands, that until that point had been lying still at his sides, were now rising to his chest just to start his way down. Delicate but strong fingers grazed his nipples, extracting another deep moan from him, and by the time they reached his lower abdomen, Legolas was quivering with need and needed to hold onto his father's shoulders to keep himself from falling completely into the water.

He was painfully hard now but Thranduil didn't seem to had a problem with taking his time.


"Father please! Nnn... don't play with me... please... i"

But he couldn't finish his request for his father placed one hand at Legolas's waist and the other on his erection.


"Ahhh!... Ada!"


Thranduil started then to move his hand up and down, building a slow peace, driving his son insane, who buried his head in his chest and started to move his hips wantonly forward, thrusting his member on Thranduil's hand as to get him to accelerate his rhythm.

Seeing his need, Thranduil increased indeed his peace and tightened his hold on Legolas's erection.


"Ahh... ah.. Ada! don't stop... p-please! Ada! i... i... Ahhh!"


Legolas screamed as he reached his climax on his father's hand.

He had never felt so good and yet so wrong at the same time. While his climax had lasted, all he could think of was the skin he felt against his own, the heat of it, its softness, but most of all... who it belonged to.

And so, when it was over, it was inevitable for him to think that it was precisely that what had triggered the need, the fact that the one next to him wasn't just anybody, but his father, the person he loved the most.


'My... father'


There was no denying it anymore, he though, now there was no lie, nor excuse good enough he could tell himself to deny the truth.


'I love him... no, not only love him. I am... IN LOVE with him!'


As soon as the thought came to his mind, he made a little surprised sound, his eyes widened in horror, and he used his hands, still on his father's shoulders, to put some distance between them.


"I'm sorry... i'm so sorry Ada! I thought... i swear i thought it was just... just lust, you know? because i saw you n... i thought it meant nothing, i swear! but i... i think..."


And at some point of his confession Legolas had started to sob as his own words were hurting him even though he knew it wasn't really his father the one listening them, but just a mere illusion, he himself know they were true and that was pain enough.

And though he wasn't expecting a response, at least not one that escaped dreamed Thranduil's very short vocabulary, which included only his son's name, he heard something else.




At this, Legolas couldn't help to surprise.


"What did you...?"




And so Legolas awoke startled.

He was tangled in his sheets, hair messy, body all sweaty, sleeping robe completely disarranged.


"Ion-nîn! Legolas... open the door!"


It took him a few second to realize that this time it was his real father calling his name.


'Oh no.'


And as he rose hurriedly from the bed, he noticed that sweat wasn't the only thing he was soaked in. His seed was very visible too all over the middle section of his robe.


"No! no no no no... he can not see me like THIS!"


"What? did you said something Legolas?"


He cover his mouth with his hands.


'What?! How did he heard that?! Uh... and one would think this stupid walls to be thicker!' "I... i said i'm coming" 'Or rather... i came Ada. Oh, and thinking of you by the way' he said inwardly while changing his wet clothes, then quickly regretting it. 'Don't joke now Legolas! What is the matter with you?!'


Once he was done, he went by the door and opened but only enough to peep out, in an attempt to hide himself behind it.

Thranduil stood outside looking a little impatient but mostly worried. He held a wine in one hand and two golden cups on the other.


"Legolas, finally!"


And he made an attempt to enter the room, but got confused when his son didn't open it but, instead, pushed it a little forward, like if about to close it.


"I... i'm sorry for taking so long, i was asleep. Can i... can i help you with something?"


His father looked at him suspicious then.


"Yes, i suppose. You could help me find my son who would never deny his father the entrance to his chambers, Legolas" Thranduil said with a fake smile. "What is wrong Ion-nîn?"


'Oh Valar, he KNOWS!' Legolas thought starting to panic. 'He knows! But how? No, it's imposible, he can't know! Shh... everything's just fine Legolas, just calm down.' "No-nothing!" he managed to said, voice trembling a little.


"Right... i can see that"


His father said with a sarcastic tone while extending his hand to push a stray lock of Legolas's hair away from his face, but finding his son almost stumbling backwards as trying to get out of his reach.


"Please, Legolas, do not take me for a fool. You have been acting strange, evasive, hiding whenever you can."


At this, Legolas eyes wineded in fear, so he averted his eyes to the floor so his father wouldn't see.


"Avoiding my eyes even."


And so he forced himself to look up, into his father's face, and did all he could not to show him how his heart was breaking at seeing him standing there, so worried for his sick and perverted son, trying to get close to him, when all Legolas felt near him was pure fire and lust.


"I came here because is now the only place where i can find you my son. I had been wanting to celebrate your recent victories at your missions, like we used to. Please, Legolas, i know there is something troubling your mind, you can share the weight of it with me."


'Oh Ada, that is the LAST thing i can do' he thought and so he lied once more. "I do not know what you mean, everything is..."


"Enough of lying Legolas! You forget i'm your father, i know you!"


And before he could stop himself from speaking, he just said the first thing that was actually true in all night.


"You're right... i do forget it. But i promise, i shall try to remember it."


There was a strange silence between them, something unfamiliar, out of place. Thranduil was, strangely, out of words. After a few seconds that felt like hours, Legolas managed to speak.


"I am sorry father, but i'm really tired, good night."


And with that he closed the door, leaving a very confused and hurt Thranduil on the other side, still holding the wine they would never drink.


'What did i do wrong Ion-nîn? How can i make amends with you if you will not tell me? Please... Legolas, do not lock me out.' And Thranduil's heart ached for his son but he had no remedy but to walk away for now.


Alone in his room now, Legolas started to cry.


'I'm sorry Ada, i'm sorry... i'm sorry. Do not waste your love and concern for scum like me! I'm so so sorry. But i will keep my promise... i will get over this cursed feelings! i will love you like a son should love his father, and i will do everything in my power to deserve your love once more Ada. This i promise!'

Chapter Text

Thranduil was running out of ideas. A couple of nights ago, he had decided to pay Legolas a visit in his chambers because he had noticed his son's strange behavior. But as soon as he saw him that night his worries just increased.

Legolas had seemed really off somehow. He was all covered in sweat, which was incredibly odd in elves, his breathing seemed uneven, and Thranduil thought he would have been able to hear his son's heartbeat even if he covered his ears.


'What was the meaning of all that?' Thranduil kept asking himself even after days had passed.


He had gone over the symptoms in his mind over and over again, had tried to remember if he had done ANYTHING to offend his son. But nothing came into his mind. So now he was wondering if it wasn't, maybe, the other way around.


'Maybe it is not something that I did. After all he didn't really seemed angry at me. Hmm... so maybe is something that he did then! Something for which he thinks I'm going to be angry with him? That must be all! It surely explains why he's avoiding ME.'


He thought and couldn't help the little bit of anger that emerged at the pit of his stomach, after all, no matter how worried he was for his son, he still had his pride, which came with his bad temper. He was King, THE Elven King, and that meant that no one, NO ONE had the right to ignore him.


'Nnnn... you had it easy so far, Legolas. But I will find out what it is that you are hiding and I will definitely not tolerate this torment you are putting me through, if this is in fact not my fault.' Thranduil thought in his way to order some lower rank elf to keep an eye on his son, for he himself couldn't do it but needed to know what was really all about.




Meanwhile, Legolas felt like he couldn't fall any lower.

His dreams were getting more and more intense, just like his release in reality, while reaching new levels of pleasure in them.

In some of his dreams Thranduil would take him to the edge using just his hands, like he did in that first fantasy, in others, Legolas would pleasure himself and reach his climax just by watching his father alone.

In others, however, he would be a little more creative and bold and ask his father to take him in his mouth. These ones, he loved.

They were, as in all of his dreams, in the woods, only not into the lake but settled in the soft grass nearby.

He would be pinned down by his father, who always went from kissing him on the lips, to biting his neck and, on his way down, his nipples, to licking him where he wanted it the most. Once he was settled between his son's thighs, he started with one almost shy lick to his member, which in no time turned into long and strong licks, until he finally decided to swallow him all.

Legolas wasn't sure what he loved more, the feeling of his father's tongue and mouth on his erection, or the sight of it. Thranduil's proud face with his arousal disappearing between his lips was a sight to behold. He was so turned on by it that it made him feel sick.


'Sick! you are sick Legolas!' He cursed himself. "Aaahh..."


He was so close but his mind was holding him back.

He had come in his dreams many times, yet NEVER in his father's mouth. Somehow, Legolas knew it would feel even worse. Because, in there, Thranduil couldn't say no to anything he asked. He was like a prisoner, compelled to do everything his captor demanded of him.

Legolas knew it was just a dream, and that no real harm would come upon his real father from it. But still.


"Oh Ada, I... ahhh... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. If you were ever to find out about th... this." 'That this is how I picture you. That this are the things I want to do with you. That I can no longer see you as I once did. That every time I look at the real you, I remember this face.' Legolas thought unable to confess out loud his whole worries even to this poor imitation of his father.


"If you were to... Nnngh... to find out, you would..." and tears started to roll down his cheeks as he came, waking up full of pain, regret and disgust.


"You would hate me father... I know."




Each day that passed was worse than the previous one.

Legolas was right, now every time he looked at his father, he couldn't stop himself from imagining him in sexual situations.

Once, in the middle of a banquet, he had to literally run off from the table because the image of his father playfully licking his own fingers after some juicy food and a little too much wine, had given him a major arousal. Legolas suspected he had even drooled on his plate before he could react, and he hadn't missed Thranduil's confused look at this.

He was indeed on dangerous ground. His feelings and needs were getting stronger and he was nowhere near controlling them.


'He will find out.' Legolas thought, understanding now that it wasn't a matter of if but when.


'I have to do something to... distract myself from these cursed thoughts! He cannot know.'


And so he came up with a plan that, of course, only made things even worse.


In the month that followed his resolution, Legolas bedded almost every single female elf he crossed paths with. It didn't matter where, when or with who he did it, he just needed the contact and male elves were, obviously, not an option since he knew his father would probably rip his head off his shoulders if he ever heard of it.

Thranduil didn't approve of those things, not that he would approve that his son was sleeping with just any female elf either, as he was very selective about the company he allowed his son to keep, but still, he knew it would be way worse if said company were to be males so Legolas decided to stay out of that path. No one he knew could be compared to his father anyway.

So girls would have to be enough, he thought. And they were, for a couple of days, but Legolas realized that passion without love was hollow. And that's how he felt... hollow inside.

No matter what he did, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything for any of them. He wished he could fall in love with someone, but how could that happen when his heart already belonged to other?

Now every passing day of meaningless sex, Legolas found it harder and harder to reach his climax when the body next to him, the face that looked at him, the voice that called his name weren't the ones he wished them to be, and so they only served to distract him and frustrate him.

He felt disgusting and despicable but he started to do the only thing he could think of doing in order to make it through those situations. He closed his eyes and imagined it was his father the one by his side, the one sharing the sleepless night with him, the one touching him, kissing him, asking him for more.


"Ahhh..." those night Legolas would really lose himself in the sensations. Perhaps... a little too much.


"Ahhh!... Nnngh... Ad!" He screamed but covered his mouth with his hand before it was too late and stopped immediately.


'Oh, Valar! I almost... called HIM! What am I doing?!'


"My prince? is anything wrong?" the young girl said with a concerned voice.


But Legolas couldn't even respond, instead he got to his feet and ran off, leaving a very shocked girl in one of the many spare rooms of the palace.


'I cannot keep doing this! What if...? What if I finished the word? What if I called for my father while coming in front of her? inside of her! Everyone would find out! The whole realm would know what I really feel for him, for... my own father.'


Fear crept into his whole body but he did his best not to show it as he locked himself in his own chambers.


'What would I do if... if everybody knew? if... Ada knew? I could never look him in the eyes again...I...'


And tears appeared at the mere thought while he sank into his bed wanting to disappear from the world.


'I have to stop, it's too risky, I obviously can't even control my own voice. Yes, I'll find another way to deal with this. I have to.'

Chapter Text

Thranduil was alone in the throne room, pacing nervously like he hadn't done since he was just an elfling.

He had been informed by a messenger from Erebor, that the King of the Dwarves had demanded for him to be informed of their latest treasure found under the mountain, ensuring it would most certainly be of interest to him. And when he heard the messenger say "white gems", his heart began to hurt from the yearning to recover them. Now that he knew where they were, he could not tolerate any others but his kind to have them.

Yet, not even something so important as that, was the reason of his nervousness now, a condition he tried to hide when the young escort he had assigned to secretly follow Legolas arrived.


"And? Well?" Thranduil said, stopping when he saw the other approaching, trying to hide his unsettledness, but sounding rather impatient.


"The Prince is still in his chambers, my King, he has not left them since..."


"The past four days... I know." He said in a lower tone full of concern.


'What is he doing?!... What is happening with him?... Could it be that he is... ill? No, I send the servants to deliver food every day and they didn't report anything wrong with him. But...' and Thranduil was pacing the floor again without even realising it when the scout's voice brought him back to reality.


"My Lord?"


"What?!" He said, completely disturbed by then.


"I... I am sorry my King... is there anything else you wish me to... to do for you?" The other said, head bowed and body trembling out of fear of having enraged the Elvenking.


"No, your job is done, you are dismissed." 'It is time I dealt with this wayward child of mine MYSELF!' Thranduil thought, his rage surpassing all his concern as his patience towards Legolas' bad behavior had reached its limit.


He knew. About Legolas' sexual adventures with the elven ladies, with almost EVERY elven lady, to be precise. He knew that because THAT was all his son had on his mind these days, he was neglecting his duties. Or at least, that's what he thought he knew.


'Oh, but I will not tolerate this Legolas. You will hear me this time!' With that resolution made, Thranduil went to his own chamber, searched for the copy of the key to his son's rooms that he kept for emergencies like this, and strode there.




Legolas knew that locking himself inside his chambers forever was not really a solution, but as he struggled to find one, that seemed to be his only option.

The first days he couldn't sleep at all. He needed to think clearly and he knew his dreams would not help with that. Instead, he just walked in circles in his rooms like a caged animal, which was exactly how he felt.

The days seemed longer than he remembered and, by the third, they also seemed to be mixing together, as if they were really just one infinite day. The closed curtains weren't exactly helping, yet he knew he must have been there for at least four or five days from the number of times the servants had brought him food, surely by his father's orders.

His father... the mere thought hurt him more than any wound he had ever received in battle.


On the fifth day, his restless mind gave in and his dreams returned.

Legolas was lying on his stomach on the soft grass this time, which was something new and, he thought, odd. At least until he felt the weight of his father's body pressed against his back and any thought he may have had just vanished.

Thranduil was slightly supporting himself on one arm, the other, free to be used. He started to caress his son's back and then lower, until he finally slipped his free hand underneath Legolas in the space he found when his son raised his hips, desperate to increase the contact between them.


"Ahhh... Ada... what has gotten into you to... tonight?" He asked amazed but incredibly happy when his father began to stroke his hard member.


"Mmmm... this feels so... good. Please don't stop." Legolas begged wantonly as he felt Thranduil tightening his hold on him and gaining speed as he was no longer able to control his own body and his hips were thrusting down, meeting his father's hand halfway.



He was so close to reaching his first climax in the past five days, when all of a sudden the night sky changed into the brightest morning in the woods.


'What?... well that's... strange.' Legolas thought, and while he was quite startled, Thranduil hadn't stopped so neither did he.


"Ahhh... I'm... so..."




'Mmm... I suppose this dream IS like all the others after all.' He mused.


What was really happening was that the nightsky hadn't changed by the magic of Legolas's dreams, but because Thranduil had arrived, unlocked the door, stormed inside and opened the curtains.


'Oh, but you have some nerves, my son! Lazing around at this time of day.' Thranduil thought while turning around from the windows to observe his sleeping son in the morning light.


But he had never expected nor prepared himself for the image he found before him.

Legolas lay on the bed on his stomach, face lost in the pillows, sheets tangled around his waist, back clearly sweaty, hair messy and a bit tangled, head on his arms, his hips, slightly but noticeably, thrusting against the mattress.

Thranduil froze at the sight. He had NEVER seen Legolas this way, neither had he ever given that much thought to this aspect of his son's life.

He of course knew that Legolas was no longer a child, a fact he just recently confirmed by having him closely followed, but still, to witness it with his own eyes was something entirely different.

This was his son after all, it didn't matter how much centuries he lived, he would always be his little child.

It was only Legolas' voice what brought him back to reality, making him avert his eyes to the ground, which had never happened to the Elvenking before.


"Ahhh... I'm... so..."


"Legolas." He tried, doing his best to sound firm but calm, pretending to be oblivious to his son's state but feeling a strange heat on his cheeks.


'No, stay calm, he is the one who should feel embarrassed, NOT YOU.' Thranduil reproached himself.


"Legolas, wake up!"


'So he CAN say something besides my name.'


"No... ahhh... don't want to, ever!" Legolas said aloud, not understanding why his father was asking him that all of a sudden but wanting so badly to just spread his seed on his dreaming hands.


"What?!" Thranduil answered starting to lose his temper.


"I... missed you."


'Who is he dreaming about?' Thranduil wanted to know. 'Is the one who steals your dreams the one keeping you away from me?'


If someone dared to hurt Legolas, even if only by not sharing his feelings, he would personally take care of that person.

But maybe that wasn't the case.


'What is it Ion-nîn? Is this about a onesided love, or about you fearing I would not approve such love?' Thranduil thought sadly, forgetting why he had averted his eyes in the first place and looking again at his son.


But Legolas was thrusting his hips even harder and faster against the mattress and getting even more vocal, which made it barely imposible for Thranduil to restrain himself from awkwardly turning away and leaving the scene.


"Ah... ahhhh... just... don't"


"Legolas, please... wake up and talk to me!" He said approaching the bed, reaching for Legolas's shoulder and shaking him softly.


"Nnnnngh... no! Don't want t... to talk!"


"Ion-nîn please! It's me, your father!"




Legolas screamed, finally reaching his climax, bending his back a little backwards to increase the friction of his member against the mattress, throwing his head back, his golden hairs softly brushing Thranduil's shocked face in the process, who immediately let go of his son's shoulder and stepped back open-mouthed.

As always, Legolas awoke the second he found his release, only this time the image of his father did not fade.

He was still pretty sleepy but conscious enough as to realise that that was no ilusion.


"Ada?!" Legolas said, starting to shake with fear. 'Oh no... no no no no... what is he doing here?!"


But Thranduil was petrified. He didn't look away but his eyes were not focusing either.

So Legolas assumed he still had a few seconds to cover himself with more sheets before the wrath of his father descended upon him, so that's what he did. He covered himself and got up from the bed using the opposite side from where his father stood.


"You... knew I was the one standing right here?" His father said when he finally found his voice after a few minutes, time in which Legolas did nothing but to kept his head down in shame, eyes closed from the pain he was already feeling, body shaking with terror.


"I... I can explain." Legolas tried, but it was a mere whisper and, as such, it went unnoticed.


"Do you hold so little respect towards me, Legolas?! As to continue that... shameful behavior in MY PRESENCE?! And besides, all the while TALKING TO ME!" Thranduil screamed starting to feel an anger far beyond his control.


At this, Legolas couldn't help to raise his head and look at his father astonished.


"What?" He said, but nothing but whispers were leaving his mouth. 'What does he mean? He's only angry that I did not stop? But... of course, if that's all, he doesn't really know all then.' Legolas thought, feeling the air entering his chest for the first time since he had seen his father standing besides the bed.


'Fine... you'll be fine Legolas. This is bad but it is not THAT bad.' He was telling himself when his father's yell startled him.


"Are you even remotely listening to me?!"


"Yes Adar... I truly do not know what to..." But it went unnoticed again, so he decided to bow his head again, in sign of regret and respect, and remain silent as his father was obviously not finished talking.


"You're neglecting your responsibilities! As a warrior, as a Prince, even as... MY SON!


Hearing this, Legolas couldn't help but raise his head again, only to find the most sad and hurt expression he had ever seen on his father. His heart shattered at the sight.




"You really think I do not know Legolas?"


Legolas had never felt so much pain and fear at the same time in his life. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and his whole body trembled.


"I... don't know what you mean." And it was true. Now he wasn't sure how much exactly did Thranduil know about his feelings.


"You have spent the last moon bedding every single lady in the realm, if they can even be called ladies, instead of being HERE! Fulfilling your obligations towards the kingdom, towards me. You are AVOIDING ME!" Thranduil practically screamed walking past the bed, closing the distance between them.


The Elvenking didn't lose his temper very often, or if he did, he usually didn't show it. But Thranduil had been suffering his son's new coldness for months now. He had needed to speak his mind without holding anything back.


Meanwhile, after his father's outbreak of rage, Legolas had understood two things. One, his father didn't know about his feelings towards him, otherwise he would have said so by now. And two, he needed to come up with a really good explanation of why he had been acting that way. His father had clearly been in pain because of it, he deserved at least that.


'I'm sorry Ada, I never meant to hurt you nor have I ever wanted to lie to you but... I have no choice.'


"Yes, you're right. I have indeed been avoiding you, but only because I knew you would never approve of this."


"This? Do please speak more specifically Legolas."


"THIS! Father, what you just said, what you just saw. I am very sorry, but I'm not a child anymore, and whether you accept it or not I have needs." Legolas said forcing himself to look at his father's piercing eyes the whole time so there would be no doubt he was saying the truth.


"Needs?! Truly? Is that really your excuse?!"


"Just as I thought... you don't understand."


"Oh Ion-nîn, I do understand needs, what I don't..."


"Do you?" And Legolas regretted it the second the words rushed out of his mouth and so he lowered his eyes again, hoping his father would miss that.


"What did you just say?" A hint of disbelief could be read in Thranduil's voice, much lower the next time he spoke.




Hearing his own name said it like that, like in his many dreams only better, made Legolas burn with want, suddenly very aware of his state of nakedness and his father's proximity.

Then Thranduil took one more step forward, so now their bodies were almost touching, and long delicate but strong fingers were lifting his chin upwards as to force him to look his father in the eyes, and that was all it took for Legolas to loose control over his voice.


"Ahh..." It was Thranduil's confused face, now standing frozen in the same position, hand still holding Legolas's chin, which made him aware of what he had done. So he quickly tried to cover it.


"Aaada!" He said, stepping back to put some distance between them, acting as if the gesture had bothered him but making an effort to look into his father's face, just in time to see Thranduil's hurt expression.


"Right... you are no longer a child, I shall remember that." His father said, turning around and walking away towards the door.


Legolas could not see, but there were unshed tears in Thranduil's eyes. He did recognise, however, the sad tone of his voice changing into a much more firm one when his father turned to face him one more time just before the doors.


"YOU, however, should remember that I am your father and your King, so no matter how much of an "adult" you think yourself to be, YOU WILL OBEY ME!"


And the severity of his father's voice in that command was enough to put an end to any protest that may have formed in his mind before it could reach his lips.


"Despite what you may believe, as I tried to to explain before, I do understand about needs, and they come after our duty. Our duty towards our kind, towards our loved ones.

So you had better learn that fast because I will treat you as the child you're behaving like and will not leave you out of my sight until that day comes.

Prepare your things now. You are coming to Erebor with me."


'Erebor? On what matter?' Legolas thought, but before he could ask, his father had left, slamming the doors on his way out.

Chapter Text

The road to Erebor was long. Even longer, Legolas thought, given that his father would barely even look at him since the incident on his chambers, let alone talk to him.
Legolas had insisted that his company was not necessary on the journey. He had fought his father's command with every argument he could think of and he was ready to keep on going until, with all the logical excuses already exposed, he asked:

"Why are those gems so important to you?!"

And Thranduil, without even turning around to look at him, said:

"Your mother's wish was to retrieve them."

Legolas had certainly never expected that answer, but what really caught him off guard was the grief he heard in his father's voice.
That alone was enough to convince him to stop complaining and follow his father ANYWHERE he asked him to.

So the road to Erebor gave Legolas more than enough time to feel even worse than he already felt.

'My mother... I haven't thought of her for some time. I have been too busy thinking about my father in ways... in ways she would for sure NEVER approve.' Legolas thought while riding along his father, watching the way he majestically rode his elk, strong but delicate hands on the reins, back straight, head held high.

'I'm... so sorry mother, I truly am. But I can not seem to help it, he is so... beautiful. So perfect... How I wish he would touch me with those hand the way he must have touched you. How I wish he would allow me to kiss his lips, to... bite his neck, and do all the things you must have done to pleasure him. How I... how I wish you could ever forgive me, mother, for having these feelings for him.'

And while he thought his father to be oblivious to his intense gaze, Thranduil didn't miss the tear rolling down Legolas' cheek in that moment.

'Ion-nîn... do you despise me this much? Does my company really pain you to the point of tears? What have I done, Legolas?' Thranduil thought, feeling hurt, but pretending not to even notice his son's suffering. He was, after all, still angry at Legolas for what took place in his chambers, days ago.


A few days after that, they finally arrived at Erebor.
The colossal gates to the mountain opened and two guards guided the elven caravan to the throne room, but it wasn't the Dwarf King waiting for them there, but his grandson, Thorin.

The second Legolas stepped into the immense room, as impressive as the place was, his attention was drawn to the figure standing by the throne.
For some reason, even though the dwarf prince was smaller than him in size, Legolas thought that Thorin looked strong and massive, just like the mountain.

"Welcome to Erebor." Thorin said, his voice echoing on the walls of the throne room.
"May the mountain be your home as you... honour us with your visit." He continued, letting certain disdain be noticeable in his tone through his polite words.

"We appreciate your hospitality but, hopefully, it will not be needed for too long." Thranduil answered with equal disdain on his voice.
"We have come here at the King Under the Mountain's call. When will he be honoring us with his presence?" He said walking straight ahead to stand right in front of Thorin.

Legolas could imagine, in that moment, why his father disliked dwarves so much, for they were the complete opposite to elves.
Watching them standing so close to each other, Legolas couldn't help to compare them, and while his father was tall, slim and elegant, almost delicate, he thought, Thorin was robust and virile. Even their voices sounded so different.
But Legolas thought they both looked equally strong and stubborn. Maybe that, and their mutual dislike for the other, were the only things they shared.

"The King is resting for the moment. He will grant you an audience, later."

Thranduil's face changed into a severe expression that was soon replaced with a false smile. Thorin kept talking.

"The guard will lead you to your chambers, so you can rest from the journey and so be ready to depart as soon as you wish to do so." He finished the sentence almost unable to hide a smile.

Thranduil just nodded and followed the guard, his own smile disappearing the second he turned his back to the prince.

Legolas gave Thorin one last glance and was surprised to find him looking him back.
Somehow, Thorin's eyes on him, seemed to lose some of their coldness and arrogance, but showed, instead, something that Legolas couldn't quite decipher. There was something enigmatic in them, he thought, and once he locked eyes with the prince, he could not look any other way.
It wasn't until his father called his name, that the enchantment broke.

"Legolas, do not stay behind. The paths of the mountain are deceitful." His father remarked, having missed completely the reason for Legolas' delay.

'Indeed...' Legolas thought, confused about what he saw but could not read in Thorin's eyes.


They had been led to separate chambers, normally, but for some reason Thranduil had decided to wait for the Dwarf King's call in his son's room and, as the hours passed, Legolas felt the walls closing in on him.
They didn't talk, didn't even look at each other. All that lay in the atmosphere was awkwardness.

'Why does he insist on remaining here with me?! He is so close, yet... so far away. We are like strangers now. I cannot stand to be around him like this!' Legolas thoughts were conflicted.
"Adar, may I have your permission to explore the mountain?"

"No, you may not." Thranduil said with resolve.

"I'm sorry?"

"You do not have my permission. You will remain here."

"Here?! Locked in this room with you?!"

And Thranduil's expression could almost pass for an unaffected one, but Legolas knew his father was suffering and so his heart clenched as he spoke, for he knew his words were harsh, but he needed to get out of there.

"I came here accompanying you, as you asked, have I not? Is that not enough?!"

"No, it is not!" Thranduil said, now raising his voice, losing his temper for the implication of his son's words.

'So it is truly a sacrifice for you to be with me now, son?'
"I told you I would not let you out of my sight, Legolas."

"Because you fear what exactly?! There are no females in this cursed mountain, and even if there were, one could not tell the difference!"

"There was no female on your bed the other day either..." Thranduil said stepping closer to his son.
"...Yet it did not stopped you from... doing what you did."

"Oh, and you took a good look at that, did you not?!"

Legolas didn't even think those words before he spoke them, but when he heard them, he turned around and prepared to leave.

"What?!" Thranduil said, shocked beyond measure.
"What do you mean by that?!"

"I'm leaving, we apparently cannot stand to be around each other lately." And Legolas opened the doors and left the chambers.

Thranduil, too confused to react, just stood in the now empty room.


Legolas walked fast and took the first detour he found just in case his father came after him.

'I can't believe what I just said to him... Why did I say that?! I know he didn't enjoy seeing what he saw that day but...
How can he be so careless about it?! Can he really not see how embarrassed I am about what happened that day?! Or...
Could it be that he does see it and so is using it as a way to punish me?'
"Oh Ada... you can be truly cruel sometimes..." Legolas whispered, the realization too much for his mind to keep as a silent secret.

And so Legolas' feelings of guilt and regret transmuted into anger.

'You do not know what it is like to feel this way! Why am I the only one suffering when it is your fault too that I feel the way I do?!
Do you have to be so perfect?! So beautiful?! And so OBLIVIOUS and UNCONSIDERATE about my feelings?!'

Legolas wished he could scream those things at his father's face, but he knew that if he did there would be an explanation required.
So he kept on walking as fast as he could, in order to get as far from his father as were possible, never realizing that, busy with his thoughts, he wasn't even looking at the paths through the mountain he was taking.


Meanwhile, Thranduil's mind was still trying to decipher Legolas' words with very little success.

'I took a good look at... what he was doing?... Meaning... I was watching? Or I was enjoying it? How could he think that?!
I... I accidentally happened to see, but I certainly did not meant to do so!
Is he really thinking that I did... enjoy it? No... it cannot be. Legolas is acting strange these days but that would be... madness.
For the love of the Valar! I cannot understand the way of thinking of this child of mine. I need to talk to him.'

But just when Thranduil reached the door someone knocked.
He opened it, hoping it was Legolas, but the one standing outside the chamber was the guard that had led them there hours ago.

"What is it that you want dwarf? Thranduil said forgetting all diplomacy, perturbed by the disappointment.

"The King will see you now."

'How inopportune...' Thranduil thought, stepping outside and watching both sides of the corridor wondering how far could his son have gone, but with no sight of him, he turned to the dwarf again.
"Fine, lead the way." Thranduil said and left the room to follow the guard, his own guards, who had been waiting in the corridor, followed him.


Walking hadn't helped at all. Legolas was still so angry at his father and now he was also lost.

'I wish he weren't right ALL THE TIME, but again, he was. The paths of the mountain really are deceitful!' He thought, stopping to take a look at his surroundings.
'Everything looks so similar, but I've always been a good tracker and have never been lost, so I guess that's not really the problem. My mind being too occupied with thoughts of him is!'


Thranduil was furious beyond imagination.
The meeting with the Dwarf King had been a complete failure. His terms to grant him the gems were too demanding and Thranduil wasn't ready to yield to a Dwarf. His honor prohibited him doing so.

"WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?! Who is he to keep me away from what belongs to me?!" Thranduil yelled as he exited the throne room.
"This will not stay this way! His greed will be the end of him, of THIS WHOLE KINGDOM! Just as I warned him, and when that day comes I will come back to claim what's mine!
Hurry! Divide to find my son, tell him we're leaving right now." He commanded his escorts, who quickly obeyed.

"Is your son lost or did he run away from you?" Thorin, who had followed Thranduil from the throne room, said.

"He is none of your concern, prince." Thranduil said, without even turning around to face him.

"It is if he's roaming around my mountain."

"Please, do not trouble your little mind, dwarf. We will be out of this precious mountain of yours in no time."

"I hope so." Thorin said walking past him.
"That's why I will help you find him."

Thorin's intrusion only worked to increase the rage he already felt, but if he analyzed the situation, his help could come handy. After at all, he did know the mountain better than the elves.


'The night must have already fallen' Legolas could only imagine, for it was difficult to tell from so deep into the mountain, with no windows or openings of any kind to the sky.

Legolas felt he had been walking in circles for the last hour or so, so when he spotted a great stair that he had not seen before, he thought he had finally found a way out and rushed to take it, but it turned out to be a trap.
The second he placed his foot on the first step, the stone broke under him and he fell.
The dwarves had always been known to consider any outside visitor a thief. He had expected the mountain itself to be a trap for those who didn't belonged to it, he just had been too tired to remember it.
Legolas reacted instantly and held onto the edge with one hand at the last moment, but he was too tired and unable to pull himself up.

Right then he heard Thorin's voice.

"Take my hand!"

Legolas looked up but didn't make any attempt to move.

'Thorin?... why would he help me?' Legolas thought, his one arm holding him from the edge, getting weaker by the moment.

"What are you waiting for?! Give me your hand!" Thorin shouted, caring, for some reason, more than he should.
'What is he thinking?! He would really hold to his pride until the end... like father like son.'

Legolas had no other choice but to accept the dwarf prince's help. If there were any intentions behind the gesture, he would have to figure how to handle them latter.
So he reached for Thorin's hand and the prince helped him climb up.

"Do not underestimate our precautions, prince of Mirkwood. The mountain's heart is meant to be a grave for intruders." Thorin said as Legolas gracefully stood up.

"So I assumed. The treasure... I had heard your kind cares for nothing more beyond that." And disdain was noticeable in his voice.

"My kind?" Thorin asked smiling.
"My kind may value gold and gems, but EVERYONE pursues a treasure. Don't you agree Legolas?" And his words, even his tone, were implying something more.

'What does he mean by that? Why does he speak as if he knew something? Maybe he...'

"You really overthink things, do you not?" Thorin said laughing a little, bringing Legolas back to reality.


"Overthink things? Just now, and before, when you wouldn't take my hand. You were probably thinking I had ulterior motives for helping you."

"And had you?"

"Of course. Your father is looking for you, the sooner he finds you, the sooner he will be out of my sight." And Thorin gestured Legolas to follow him as he started walking.

The other prince, however, stood still.

"Do you dislike him that much?" Legolas asked, curious about what could anyone find distasteful about his father.

And so Thorin turned around and stood right in front of Legolas again, looking up, eyes locked on his now.

"And you don't?"

"What? He is my father. What would make you think I dislike him?"

"When you arrived, my grandfather commanded me to keep an eye on you and I did so... I've heard you two talking behind closed doors earlier. He did not sound like a very caring father, I must say."

And though Legolas was caught off guard, he managed to answer, letting pass the matter of the dwarf's intrusion but going straight to defend his father.

"But HE IS a caring father!... You know nothing of him. It is not his fault!." And he didn't understand why if he was angry at his father himself, he was defending him now.

"Right! It is yours... but I'm curious, what is it that he caught you doing that day he mentioned?"

And Legolas could feel his face burning with shame as he attempted to walk past Thorin, wishing he had fallen off the cliff.

"Wait!" Thorin said grabbing Legolas by his wrist.

"No!... You either help me or leave me alone, I do not care, but I am NOT answering that question!" He said, facing away from the other.

"It is not that!"

"Then what is it?!"

"You are bleeding!" Thorin answered letting go of his wrist, directing his eyes at the source of the blood.

"What?" Legolas asked while following the other prince's eyes.

When he fell off the false stairs, Legolas' left leg had apparently collided with some sharp edged rocks and now the wound, just a little above his knee, was bleeding.

"I hadn't noticed I... What are you doing?" Legolas asked when he saw Thorin pull a blue piece of cloth from his pocket.

"I meant to attend your wound." The dwarf prince said as it were the most natural thing to do.

"What?!" You?"

"Do you see anyone else nearby?"

And Legolas was having troubles understanding why he was being so polite with him.

'He probably came looking for me, truly to get rid of Ada's presence, and he saved me because of course, my father would not take my death very well, but... this...?'

And Thorin's voice awakened him.

"Stop it."


"I already told you to stop thinking so much! Sometimes a kind gesture is just that." Thorin said, taking Legolas by surprise and leaving him open mouthed.

"Well... then, I appreciate the gesture, but I must decline. We have no time for this! Besides, you forget I am a warrior, I have been wounded far worse than this in battle." Legolas said trying to walk past Thorin once more, but he moved to stand right in front of him again.

"You may have, but never on dwarf lands. Your father is already wishing ill for me and my kind, let us not give him a reason to increase his hate toward us, shall we?" Thorin said defiant, holding the piece of cloth with one hand in front of him, with a more severe look on his face.

For some reason, Legolas felt that that couldn't be Thorin's only motive, but his resistance to the dwarf prince attempts at kindness was slowly fading .

"Fine." Legolas said, extending his hand, expecting the other to hand him the cloth so he could wrap it around his wound, surprised when he didn't.

"Sit." Thorin said and it came out as a soft command.

Legolas felt drawn to obey and so he did.
There was a stone wall, before the false stairs, so he approached it, sat and brought his back to rest on it.

Thorin followed him and crouched on his knees at his left side, and Legolas couldn't explain why, but he felt incredibly uncomfortable by the proximity so he turned his head away.

'This is RIDICULOUS! Now I am certain there's something wrong with me. He is just being kind towards me, there's nothing more to it! But... '

Thorin took the cloth and placed across Legolas' leg, on top of the wound but before he continued, he threw a glance at the elven prince.

'He is lost in his thoughts again...'

'But... I'm allowing him to be kind to me... I wonder what would Ada think if he knew I let a dwarf help me?... Would he be angry? Furious maybe?' Legolas wondered, all the frustration and anger he had felt after his previous argument with his father, rushing back into his mind.

"How strange." Thorin said, a soft smile forming on his lips. "I had expected you to fight this a bit more. To say something like: I can take care of my wounds on my own, I do not need a dwarf's help... or something similar." Thorin said while wrapping the cloth on Legolas' leg, his strong hands trying to soften his touch.

At that, Legolas turned his head to look at Thorin's hands on his upper leg. The sight, turned his frustration into determination.

'Ada... all I wanted was to protect you from my horrible needs, for I know the unbearable pain they would cause you, yet you said that I place them before my loved ones, before you. Well then... I will give you a reason to say that!' Legolas thought, his heart full of pain, his mind already knowing he would regret what he was about to do.

Every little emotion was unintentionally displayed in Legolas' eyes for Thorin to see when their gazes meet.

"Legolas? What is...?" Thorin tried, but the words died when, suddenly, Legolas closed the distance between them and crushed his lips on his own.

Chapter Text

The kiss couldn't even be called a kiss, as it had been just a mere crash of lips and ended as soon as it began.
Thorin hadn't even have time to register what had happened.
All he knew was that Legolas had moved with what he first thought was an intent of attack, but there was no pain after the prince withdrew.
Their faces were still so close, Thorin could even feel the elven prince's breath on his lips.
There was a strange silence between them, like the calm before the storm, that must have lasted seconds but it felt like ages.
And then Legolas was moving again. Slower this time, as if asking for permission, but suddenly he felt a strong hand on his neck, stopping him.

"What are you doing? What is the meaning of THIS?!" Thorin demanded to know.

"I... I don't know... My apologies, I'm not in my right mind lately." Legolas said trying to hide how embarrassed he felt at that moment.

"I can see that."

"I'm deeply sorry. You will never have to bear my presence again, I promise." And so Legolas attempted to stand, but the strong grip on his neck only got tighter.

"Who said I'm... bearing your presence?"

For a second the young prince thought he had been insulted, but then Thorin's hand was no longer on his throat but moving to the back of his head, slowly lowering it towards his own.

"Who says I'm not enjoying it?" Thorin said in a soft voice.


And then their lips were almost touching again.

"Wh... what are you doing?"

"I'm only finishing what you started." The dwarf prince said clasping their mouths together, kissing Legolas strongly, but also tenderly.

The elven prince froze.

'What are we doing? What am I doing?!'

Only then did he realise he hadn't really expected Thorin to kiss him back when he tried to kiss him.
Thorin stopped then, but didn't move his head back.

"You're supposed to open your mouth Legolas."


"Open your mouth." And Thorin reinforced his command with a thumb on the young prince's lips, parting them.

"Like this." And the dwarf's mouth was on his once more, so fast that now Legolas was the one caught off guard.


Thorin's lips were nothing like what he was used to, neither was his attitude.
While a female's lips were soft and receiving, Thorin's were rough and demanding. His tongue invading his mouth, his teeth occasionally crashing against his.
Legolas couldn't help the moan that escaped him.


Thorin smiled and stopped.

"So sensitive. Don't tell me this is your first kiss?" He of course knew that wasn't true, he just wanted to mock the other prince a little.

"It is, with another male, yes, is my first."

"WHAT?!" And so Thorin started to put some distance between them.
"I was only... teasing you, I thought..."

"What? It changes nothing."

" It changes EVERYTHING!"

Legolas looked at him confused.

"Go." Thorin said.

"Turn your back on this while you still can."

"On what? Oh, you mean... on enjoying the company of my gender? Sorry, it is too late for that."

"It is not! I thought you already were on this... path, but I will not be responsible for..."

"For what, Thorin?!"

"I don't know... for you starting to like this too much?"

"Oh, please! Don't give yourself that much credit, you're not the first and only male I've laid eyes on. And I've done far more than kissing in my fantasies!"

"That's different." Thorin said while trying to stand to leave, but Legolas stopped him grabbing him by the wrist.

"You want to know what my father caught me doing?"

Thorin knew it was a trick, but curiosity got the best of him.


And so Legolas placed his free hand on Thorin's knee, and slowly started to move up his leg, in a sensual way, as he spoke.

"He caught me pleasuring myself, in my sleep. I was dreaming of someone I really shouldn't have dreamt of. Imagining his hands touching me... right here." And so Legolas' hand reached Thorin's crotch, making him gasp in surprise.

"Legolas... stop."

But the elven prince wasn't about to do so, and his other hand joined the first, caressing Thorin's other leg, and then his thigh, until both of them were on his member, rubbing it through his clothes.

"Yes... my father said the same. Stop. But I was so hard right then, trying so much to come.
I think I heard him, I think I knew he was there. I just didn't care. I only cared about those hands right where I needed them, on my..."

But he couldn't finish the sentence as in a fluid motion, Thorin pushed his hands away, and pushed him down, pinning him against the cold floor.

"I told you to stop!" And the tone of his voice was deadly serious.
"Don't try to use your childish tricks on me!"

"You do know I'm actually older than you, don't you? A couple of centuries older?"

"You may have been born long before I did, but you haven't lived through even a fraction of what I have.
Your father has kept you in that precious golden cage of his, far too long."

And there was a strange silence as Legolas realized that he was right.

"Then set me free. Show me what I've been missing."

Again a long silence. And then Thorin said the three words the elven prince would never forget.

"Beg for it."

Those words were enough to entice him, for he felt his body respond in a way it had never done before.
He was now painfully hard, but he could feel Thorin was too.

"Please, Thorin... take me."

"I can tell you're not used to begging. No matter, I'll teach you later." Thorin said with a wicked smile on his face.

And before Legolas could said another word, the dwarf prince's lips were on his once again, but so much more passionate and eager this time.
Thorin's hands weren't losing any time either as they were already all over his body, fighting to get his clothes off. Legolas' hands did the same.

Once Thorin got rid of his light garments and his chest was exposed, he kissed his neck and then moved down.


Those, again, couldn't even be called kisses, for Thorin was licking and biting, for the most part, and Legolas was discovering that he liked it that way.

"A-ahh... aahh..."

And then Thorin's mouth was on his left nipple, sucking and bitting.

"Nnngghh... aaahh..."

Legolas had done that many times to ladies, and they seemed to love it, but no one had ever done it to him.

"This feels so..."

"Strange?" Thorin said, taking the oportunity to move his attentions to the other nipple.

"Nggghh... yes. Good strange."

"Then lets move to more important matters." The dwarf prince said while his hand started to pull off Legolas' leggings.

Now, the elven prince was lying there, on the cold floor, bare, displayed, his heart, beating fast, his breathing, ragged.

Thorin observed the figure before him, without saying a word, and then started to take off his own remaining clothes. Then, he paused.

"What's wrong?" Legolas asked.

"Are you completely sure this is what you want?"

"I am. Do you want me to beg again?!"

"I'm serious, Legolas."

"So am I!"

"As you wish then." Thorin said, spreading Legolas' legs, placing himself between them, their bared members now touching for the first time.

"Aaaahhh...." 'He's so... big and... thick.' It was, in fact, the first time he saw another male's member with that much attention.
'I... I wonder if my father's looks like that or... No, Legolas, stop thinking of him!'

'His mind is drifting away again.' Thorin thought, while supporting his weight with one hand, next to Legolas' chest, and grabbing both of their erections with the other, starting to stroke them.

"Aaaaaahhhh....!" 'Ada, how I wish it were your hands the ones bringing me such pleasure...'
Unconsciously, Legolas started to thrust his hips up, trying to get as much friction as he could, but Thorin's hips thrust down, with a force he didn't think the dwarf would have, as if reminding him who was in control of the situation.
The whole idea of being dominated like that only served to remind him more and more of his father.

"Aaahhh... Ada..." Though the last word came out as a whisper, for Legolas realized that he had said that out loud ALMOST just in time, it was loud enough for Thorin to hear.

And little did he knew that the dwarf had mastered the elvish language really well.

'FATHER...?! So that's your secret?' Thorin fought to hide his surprise and, he had to admit, anger.
'I knew you were hiding something important, I just never thought... it could be this. I suppose I'll have to make you tell me about it.'

And so Thorin's hand suddenly left Legolas' member and started to go up his chest almost tenderly.

"So, I'll ask one more time... Are you sure about this?"

"In what language should I say YES for you to understand it?"

"You could say it in your own language if you want." The dwarf prince said knowing the statement made clear that he understood what the other had just called him seconds ago.

"What?" And Legolas noticed the dwarf expression had changed. 'He CAN'T speak elvish... can he?'

"Because you know... doing this, if is not with the one you love, can be truly... painful." Thorin said, now dragging his nails down Legolas chest, leaving red marks.


And the dwarf prince took advantage of Legolas' open mouth, to force two fingers inside of it.
The elven prince, once again, was caught off guard and didn't really knew what the intrusion was for or what to do about it, until Thorin spoke.


Legolas obeyed.
Then Thorin started to thrust his fingers in and out his mouth.

"Nnnggghhh..." Legolas closed his eyes and could imagine that they weren't Thorin's fingers, but another thing entirely.
"Nnn... nnngghh...."

"That's enough." The dwarf said withdrawing his fingers to place them on Legolas' entrance.

The elven prince's eyes opened in surprise.
He had imagined how this kind of thing would be, when it came to doing it with another male, but he hadn't been truly prepared for it.
Thorin saw what now was fear in his eyes.

"Last chance, Legolas." He said, taking pity on him.

He took a deep breath before answering.
"Do it."

And so Thorin finally pushed his two wet fingers inside Legolas', slowly and carefully, trying not to hurt him, yet the intrusion felt like a burning pain.
A pain like he had never felt before.

"Aaaaaahhhh..." He screamed, involuntarily tensing from the pain.
"Legolas, don't... it will only make it worse."

"Then... aaahhhh.... pl-please... make it better!"

Thorin had intended to give Legolas enough time to adjust, but that wasn't about to happen naturally, so he started to move his fingers in a scissoring motion, trying to make him loosen up.

"Nnngh!... Thorin, it... hurts!"

"Doesn't love always?"


"I know your secret Legolas." Thorin said, slightly lowering his fingers' movement.

"What?!" Legolas asked with desbelieve. 'No... he can not posible know...'

But his doubts were confirmed by Thorin's knowing and severe eyes.
Legolas' breathing stopped and his body tensed unconsciously, which only made Thorin's thrusts even more painful.

"Aaahhh!!!" Legolas screamed in pure pain.

Thorin stopped immediately and Legolas took this chance to try to escape from under the other's body.

"Legolas stop! You're hurting yourself!" He comanded but it was useless.

Legolas was shaking with fear now and trying even harder to get free from his grip, but only causing himself even more pain since he still had Thorin's fingers buried inside of him.

"Please! Listen to me!"

"No! You know nothing of me! Just... let me go!" And tears were rolling down his cheeks now but the physical pain he felt had nothing to do. He felt so ashamed and humiliated. Exposed.

"Legolas, I will not tell a soul about it! I promise! Please..." Thorin said in a soothing voice.

Hearing those words, the elven prince stopped fighting. He still didn't entirely believe them, and neither did he knew how much Thorin knew, but he knew running wasn't going to make the problem go away. So he stood still.

"That's it... good...I will remove my fingers now." Thorin informed him in advance so as not to scare him, and then withdrew his two fingers slowly, trying to cause the minimum pain possible.

"See? Everything is fine, I just wish to talk with you."

'Yo didn't wish to just TALK a second ago.' Legolas thought, not yet understanding the true intentions of the dwarf prince.

"Legolas, listen... I heard you two talk and..."

"Yes! You already said you spied us."

"Fine, I did, but I followed you, right after your conversation, before my grandfather sent for your father, and..."

"So you also FOLLOWED ME?!" Legolas shouted, all of his interruptions making Thorin lose the little temper he had.

"YES! Would you let me FINISH?!"

"I was sort of hoping we would both do so... but it seems you would rather talk." Legolas said intending to divert the other prince's attention to make him drop the subject. It wasn't a perfect solution but he didn't feel he had another one.

"You're hilarious, but, as I was saying... I saw you crying after that, and those weren't the tears of a resented son but a hurt lover."

"A LOVER?! You think my father and I are THAT? LOVERS?! Ada said you dwarves were no intellectual creatures but THAT is foolishness!" and he knew it was a poor reply, but he felt cornered.

"So you're calling me a fool then?" Thorin said getting tired of Legolas stubbornness.
"Are you denying you love him?"

"No. I love my father... but I'm not IN LOVE with my father." Legolas affirmed, determined to make the other believe those words.

Thorin, on the other hand, was determined to make the elven prince admit he was right.

"Are you sure about that?" The dwarf prince said with a sinister smile.

"Yes! Now, Thorin, would you please... please, get off me?" Legolas asked in the nicest way he could manage.
"This conversation is awkward enough, let alone having it while... being in this position."

"Oh, you mean lying on your back with your legs spread for me feels awkward?"

'He had to describe it out loud, didn't he?' Legolas thought ashamed to death.

"Do not worry, I'm about to make it feel even more awkward." Thorin said, a dangerous smile appearing on his lips while he lowered his head to whisper in Legolas' left ear.

"I will let you call his name while I take you."

"WHAT?!" Legolas practically shouted at the other prince's sugestion.

"Father or...?"

"... Ada." And the word left his mouth as a mere whisper. It felt so wrong to pronounce it looking at another that wasn't his father.

"Right. You can scream for him when I'm inside you, just as I know you want to." Thorin continued rising on his arms once more to look straight at Legolas' eyes.

"I DON'T..."

"Hush now Legolas..." The dwarf said in a soft and soothing voice.
"There is no point in denying it, you already almost did just a moment ago."

And Legolas opened his mouth to protest, to demand to know when had he done that, but Thorin sealed his lips with a tender kiss Legolas never thought him capable of giving.

Then "When my hands were right HERE!" He screamed pointing towards his crotch with his head. "That's when!"

And Legolas knew then it had finally happened.
There had been so many occasions when he had almost said THAT word, that he knew it was only a matter of time before someone discovered his secret.
He knew he should feel terrified and try harder to convince the other prince that he had misheard him, that the idea disgusted him but he was so tired of denying it and, for some reason, the only thought that crossed his mind was:

'Finally...' And Legolas released the air he felt he had been holding since he put a name to his feelings.

He closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy what he was feeling right then before he had to deal with the reality waiting for him.
His feelings had been a burden draining his strength, his life, and keeping them a secret had been isolating him.
Only now that they lie there in the open, did he realize that.

Meanwhile, Thorin just observed in silence the change of emotions on Legolas' face, fighting to keep his body's natural reactions at their naked figures in such intimate contact, under control, for he knew the young prince needed time.

"It's true..." Legolas felt the necessity to confess.
"I have feelings for him that no son should have for his father." And he opened his eyes, expecting to find judgment or repulsion on Thorin's face, but all he saw was tenderness and compassion, so he went on so as to make the other realize the gravity of what he was saying.

"I... crave for his touch, I want him... INSIDE ME, Thorin! Can you see how SICK I am!" Legolas said, fighting not to shout while he started to sob like a child.

"Legolas, calm yourself... you're nothing of the sort!" Thorin pleaded him, caressing his cheek with his hand.

"How can you say that?! Did you not hear what I said?! I want - MY - FATHER - to make love to me!"

"I heard it! And I am not saying is not wrong, because it is, I'm only saying that you are not sick because of it! Perhaps is just... a phase... like a season, it will pass."

"Only to return the next year?!"

"N... NO! You know what I meant!" Thorin said, laughing at Legolas' stubbornness, gaining a small smile from the other prince. His hand never stopping his attentions on his cheek.

"I know what you meant. You are trying to explain something far beyond all explanation only to make me feel better. Why I do not know is... why?" Legolas said fearing then Thorin would show his true intentions.

"I suppose it is because I know something about forbidden love." Thorin said, eyes full of sadness and something close to shame.

And Legolas was surprised to see such emotions on someone who looked so strong and tough as the dwarf prince, and he wanted to know who could that forbidden love be, but he had no right to ask the other about something so personal and obviously painful as that, so he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry Thorin." Was all Legolas said, his eyes, fixed on the one on top of him, showing how sincere that feeling was.

"I'm sorry too" Thorin said smiling tenderly.
"But you know? When I first saw you, you reminded me of that person somehow. Now that I know you a little better I can tell you are nothing like him."

'Him?' So he's in love with another male too. Maybe that's the reason their love is forbidden. Legolas thought.
"I'm sorry." He repeated.

"You already said that."

"No, I mean... I'm sorry you cannot see the one you love in me anymore. Even if it was only for one night... to be able to pretend you lie with him would have been nice."

"Just as it would have been for you to pretend I was your father, wouldn't it?" Thorin said in a more serious voice, the low pitch of it making Legolas' now cool skin, shiver.


"Then what is keeping us from doing it?"

And Thorin didn't even gave Legolas time to react, for they both knew what his answer would be, and took the elven prince's lips passionately.
Legolas opened his mouth once more and let the other's tongue in. The dwarf took the opportunity to also bite his lower lip.

"Ah... Thorin..." Legolas moaned once his mouth was free from the assault.

"Now, is it really me the one occupying your thoughts right now... son?" Thorin said with the most seductive voice Legolas had ever heard.

Legolas, who had closed his eyes during the kiss, opened them again in surprise.
The whole idea of Thorin accepting to play his father in this twisted fantasy of his, was exciting beyond measure.

"Yes... Ada, it has always been you, no other but you."

"Then call for me louder. Tell me all the things you would have me do to you."

And Thorin was pressing his fingers against Legolas' entrance once more. His other hand supporting his weight.

"Aahh... t-take me... Ada! Please!" Legolas screamed.


Fear had long started to creep into Thranduil's mind.
There were no signs of Legolas and he didn't believe his son could really get lost in this mountain.
Though it was like a labyrinth, Legolas could find his way through any of the woods of the Middle Earth, he could for sure find his way in here.

'Ion-nîn... where are you?' Thranduil thought, now running through the long corridors under the mountain.

"Legolas!" The scream was desperate.
"Answer me my son..." Thranduil said, his voice fading into a broken whisper.

'If someone has dared lay a hand on you, I swear to the Valar I will rip their head from their shoulders!'


The thrust of Thorin's fingers inside Legolas had increased in speed and strength, and the dwarf prince's hips started to accompany their movement.
He wanted to give Legolas the proper time to adjust.
He had no wish to hurt the elven prince, much less scare him, but he was at his limit and wasn't sure how much longer he could ignore his own need.
Legolas, on the other hand, knew he was about to reach his climax and his moans and screams had increased in volume.

"Ahh... ahh! Please!"
'He... he hasn't even touched me th-ere...' Legolas thought looking at his erect member.
'And yet... I'm already like this.'
'How is he doing this?!'
"Nngh! Ada!"



"Legolas?!" Thranduil attempt to scream but the fear he felt wouldn't let him when he could recognize his son's pained voice screaming, calling for him, but far away.

'I knew something was wrong. Be strong my son, I'll be right there!' He thought while running as fast as he could, following the sound.


The more he ran, the louder he could hear Legolas' screams.
Thranduil could now sense something strange in them. His son's voice sounded pained, yes, but something else too, that the desperation to find him which he felt would not let him decipher.

Thranduil arrived to a corridor that ended on the entrance of a great hall.
He could tell Legolas' pleas came from there, so he drew his sword and prepared to kill the one responsible for his son's suffering, slinking in the shadows of the enormous place, barely illuminated by torches on the walls.

"Ahhh..." Legolas screamed.

The new sound immediately brought Thranduil's attention to a spot near a great stairs at the end of the hall. The scene there taking place, froze him to his very core.

There lay his son on his back, legs wide open, with the dwarf prince on top of him thrusting his hips rhythmically against his backside, groaning in a low, barely audible, voice.

"No" He said, but it came out as less than a whisper. Nothing more than air leaving his lungs through his throat.
All of the air leaving him till the point he felt he could no longer breathe.

'No, that is not... my son?' Thranduil thought, slowly and silently walking closer, to confirm his vision was playing tricks on him.

"Ahhh... please!"

And so were his ears.

'NO! that is not his voice!' And, indeed, that was a voice he had never heard coming out of his son's lips.

But as Thranduil got closer, the two agitated figures become even clearer.
Thorin was occupying his mouth to lick and bite Legolas' skin, concentrating on his chest, the highest he could reach of Legolas with their hips rocking at the same level, one of his hands disappearing there between their bodies.
Legolas' eyes were closed, his mouth open, constant pleas and moans leaving him, that only now could the elven king register as such.

"Ion-nîn..." The word escaped Thranduil's lips without his consent when he found he could no longer deny what was right in front of him.

A whisper full of hurt and disappointment. It would be the last time he would use that word in a long long time.

Legolas thought he heard his father's voice calling him.
'Ada...?' But he didn't dared to open his eyes so as to not break the fantasy he was already starting to believe.
'Oh Ada, how I wish it were you the one here with me, the one becoming... my first, in this way.'

And he wanted to shed the tears he was holding back but he couldn't. He knew it would not be fair for Thorin. The dwarf prince deserved better. So he would do better.
Thranduil's tears, on the contrary, did roll down his cheek, but they were far from being due to sadness.

'How could you go as far as to... to...?!' He found that the word, for what Legolas was doing, refused to even form in his mind.

Wrath, his body was now trembling from it, making his fingers contract around his sword in a painful way and his jaw clench so as to contain the furious scream that was fighting to be released.

'I WILL KILL THEM BOTH!' He thought, but his body did not move.

He knew he could never really hurt Legolas. It had always been enough just to lecture him, physical punishment had never crossed his mind, but now his son had gone too far.

'I... I have to do something! ANYTHING! but to... keep letting this happen IN FRONT OF ME! I...'

And only then did he realise. He had been staring the whole time.
Once he had recognized one of the figures as his son, he should either have stopped them or walked away.
But instead he stood there.
He wanted to tell himself he had been caught off guard and had been too terrified to move.
But that still didn't explain why he had paid so much attention to every detail of Legolas' position and body and sounds...

He had noticed the tension on his son's body and how little drops of sweat rolled down every muscle. The thread of saliva that escaped the left side of a very red and swollen bottom lip.
He had even noticed how the lines of his neck seemed so much sharper then, than he had ever seen them. How his arms fought to hold onto Thorin's back, nails tracing red paths into the dwarf prince's back.
His eyes had unconsciously followed the movements of Legolas' chest, expanding with every breath of air he took, making his ribs more noticeable, all the way down to his hips, pushing upwards, trying to meet the other's thrusts, obviously to gain more friction on his...

'No!' And Thranduil couldn't help but to cover his mouth with his free hand when he awoke from his trance.
'What am I doing?!'

And confusion was now added to the list of feelings he was experiencing, but not yet strongly enough to suffocate the rage inside him.

'I have to go, I will deal with them later!'

And so he turned around to leave when Legolas' voice made him stop in his tracks.


Thranduil's face must have been red for he felt his cheeks burn just as other regions of his body he would never dare to admit, at hearing his name, the one title that was reserved for Legolas alone, being said in that agitated and full of want voice his son had proved to have.

'For the Valar, control yourself Thranduil! He's the one who should hide in the shadows after what he has done, NOT YOU!'

He was about to turn around when he heard Legola's voice once more.

"Nngh... Ada... I can't take this anymore...!"


"Take me!"

And so he turned back around in time to see Thorin incorporating from his position, taking Legolas by one leg and roughly turn him around so now he was facing down.
He had felt the hit of his son's body against the floor as if he had collided against the stone himself, his mouth instinctively opening as if about to scream to protect him, yet no sound came from it.

'They... did not see me then? But I could have sworn I heard...'

"Nngh...! Ada!" The sudden change of positions had taken Legolas by surprise, but he was certainly not about to complain.
"What took you so long?"

Thranduil couldn't have seen from where he was standing, but Thorin had entered Legolas with nothing but his fingers, yet that was about to change.


"So you were craving to be punished this much?" Thorin said in a hoarse voice while guiding the young elven prince to raise his hips from the floor.


"Then tell me, son..." The dwarf prince whispered.
"How should I punish you?"

"Break me..."

And Thranduil wanted to cover his ears and eyes at the same time, but he knew if he didn't cover his mouth right there, he would have screamed his wrath.

'Why... Legolas?... Why are you HUMILIATING YOURSELF TO HIM LIKE THIS?!'

Thorin then stopped moving and went silent. He could feel the guilt and the want, struggling inside the elven prince.

"Please! I want t-to feel you in me..." Legolas said reaching behind him with one hand, managing to grab Thorin's hard member and guide it to his entrance.

"Nnngghh... Legolas..." Was the dwarf prince's only response.

Thranduil knew then that he shouldn't be able to watch that scene.
He was horrified, disturbed and angry beyond all measure, but although he had decided he couldn't really kill them, he wasn't stopping them either, or even looking away for that matter.
Tears of impotence and rage rolled down his cheeks.
His hand pressed against his parted lips in a painful way.

"P-please... break me!" Legolas begged.
'Until I can't feel anything anymore'
"I want you to... tear me apart, Ada...!"

Thranduil couldn't control the sound leaving his mouth.


Although it was muffled by his hand, it was still loud enough for a trained ear to hear.

'WHAT WAS THAT?!' The elven prince thought, stopping entirely and opening his eyes to search their surroundings, fear already creeping through his skin.

Thranduil's body seemed to have a life of his own then, for it moved, long before he knew it had, to exit the place by the same entrance he had arrived through.
The darkness, ALMOST shielding him from his son's eyes.

"Thorin, wait!" Legolas said noticing the figure moving through the shadows.

"I'm done with the games Legolas, I can't... hold myself back anymore." The dwarf prince said just as he was about to finally enter him.

"I'm serious Thorin, GET OFF!"

Legolas then abruptly turned around, causing Thorin to fall on his side, and stood.

"WE HAVE BEEN SEEN!" He said while taking his clothes from the floor.


"Someone was HERE! JUST NOW!"

"It cannot be..." Thorin whispered as if to convince himself.

"I SAW HIM THORIN!" Legolas screamed starting to panic.

"Fine, fine... I believe you." Thorin said as he got up from the floor as well.
"Don't worry, we will solve this."

"SOLVE IT?! Did you not heard me? SOMEONE SAW US! What lie or explanation could possibly save us?!"


"Maybe that you were helping me get up?... then why the NAKEDNESS?" The elven prince said as he desperate tried to put his leggings on.
"Or... or..."


"Maybe that I confused you for a female dwarf? Do they even exist, because YOU ALL LOOK THE SAME TO ME!"

"Would you please shut your mouth!" Thorin said taking the elven prince by his arms as to stop him, a little more forceful than he had intended, feeling offended by Legolas' previous statement.

"I never said we could solve this with words."

"Then what? Run away? FOR EVER?! Because I don't know how much your father would miss his future heir, but I can tell you my father would NEVER STOP LOOKING FOR ME!"

"So you just think too much but never too deep? I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT RUNNING EITHER!"

Legolas just looked at him confused.

"We need to get rid of whoever saw us, and if we keep wasting our time here we will never catch him." Thorin said as he let go Legolas' arms and started to dress himself.

"You mean... kill him. You think it didn't cross my mind? But you know what? I CAN'T!"

"So he's an elf then?"


"If it was one of MY KIND, as you call us, you would not hesitate or spare his blood."

"That's not true." Legolas lied, knowing it was probably true but, for the first time in his life, feeling bad about it.
"I just... can't take someone's life because of my... my lust, Thorin."

"And what about my life? Does my life matters so little to you then?
Because you know what your father would do to me if he finds out what I was about to do to you."

"WITH me, not TO me. But yes, I know."

Legolas wouldn't admit, but he had felt something, not quite love, but something special, for the dwarf prince since the first time he laid eyes on him.
Thorin saw Legolas' face saddened and so he knew what his response would be, even before asking.

"Then... you tell me. What should we do?"

"We will... silence him." Legolas said, feeling every word like a dagger through his heart, for he knew what he was about to do was unforgivable.

Thorin wasn't happy about the whole thing. He didn't know why he cared so much, but it pained him to see the elven prince suffering. Yet he felt relieved when he got the other's approval.

"Then hurry! If he's an elf then he's for sure lost in these corridors. We still can catch him!" Thorin said looking at every possible direction, waiting for Legolas to point the way the other elf had escaped for.
"And don't forget your bow and arrows. You will need them."


Never before had Thranduil felt the way he was feeling then.
Body trembling, tears running free down his cheeks, voice escaping his control in small pained sounds.

'Why... Legolas? Why would you...? What were you even doing?!... No... WHAT WERE YOU EVEN SAYING?!'

Thranduil knew he had been seen.
He knew they would probably be looking for the one spying on them, for he didn't think Legolas really saw who that spy was.
He also knew that to confront him, or them, right then wasn't a good idea. He was too full of pain and rage.
As a reflex, he had first attempted to run, and he knew that was for the best for now, but his body had stopped responding to him. Had stopped moving at all.
Now he felt he needed to lean against something, otherwise he believed he might fall.
So he leaned against the nearest wall and just stood there, his mind going through all he had seen, all he had heard, trying to find some kind of sense or explanation for it.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed when suddenly he heard hurried footsteps approaching and so he hid behind a massive column.
Then, he heard the two voices that only seconds before had been resounding inside his head.

"Legolas, I told you to hurry! There is no time for second thoughts!" Thranduil heard the dwarf prince say, as he ran through the corridor, right past his hiding place.

"It's too late Thorin!" Legolas responded as he stopped running.
"He's already gone..."

Thranduil's fists clenched in rage.

Thorin hadn't noticed Legolas had stopped and so he had continued to hunt the spy.
His son was now alone, at the mercy of a fitting punishment.

His mind clouded. His body, wasn't his own.
He left his hideaway and silently approached Legolas from behind.

The young elf sensed someone's presence but it was too late.
Thranduil grabbed Legolas' right arm and twisted back and up and used his other hand to hit him hard in the union between that arm and his shoulder, making him kneel in pain.

"Aaahhh!" Legolas screamed trying to free his arm from the strong hold, but failing completely, still being unable to see his agresor.

Suddenly, the grip on his arm disappeared but immediately what felt like an elbow, connected with the center of his spine, causing him to fall face to the floor.


The pain he felt then was the worst he had felt, at least physically, in a long time, yet that didn't stop him from, almost immediately, recovering, getting up from the floor and turning around, one hand already in his bow, the other taking a arrow.
When he faced his attacker, he was ready to shoot the arrow right to his head.
Yet that never happened.

"No..." The word escaped the young elf's lips at seeing that the one in front of him, the one they had been hunting, the one that had seen them in those forbidden acts, was no other than his father.

The fear invading him was so deep and strong that his body wouldn't move.

The rage inside Thranduil did another thing entirely.
The elven king drew his sword and in a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, cut Legolas' bow in half.

Then, for only a second, their eyes met, allowing the other to read almost every emotion. Shame, pain, even love... everything they were feeling right then.
But the second passed, and his father's expresion became unreadable.

Legolas knew then that his deepest fear, had became true.
His father knew. He didn't know how much, but enough to hurt him, physically, for the first time in all his life.
Tears began to roll down his cheek as he knelt in front of his father, feeling his sword's cold blade, following his movement.

Chapter Text

 "Legolas! ...Legolas!"

The elven prince could hear a known voice calling him, yet his mind was too far away to recognize it or even to care about where did it come from.

But when he felt something warm caressing his cold skin, he was brought back into reality.

"Answer me, Legolas! What happened?!" Thorin said, placing his hand, in the most tender way he could manage, over the nasty bruise he found on Legolas' right cheek bone.

"...Thorin?" The young prince asked.

He didn't know how long he had been kneeling there, in the cold stone floor, where his father left him, but it had to be long, for his knees as well as his whole body ached from the position.

"Yes, it's me. What happened here?! Who did this to you?!" Thorin said looking at every dark corner of the great hall just in case the perpetrator were still hiding there. "I swear I will kill whoever dared lay a hand on you!"

Thorin didn't know what had gotten into him, why he was acting so protective towards the other prince. But for some reason, when he had discovered that Legolas was no longer behind him, fear had filled his heart.

And when he had turned around and went back on his feet until he found him, on the floor, hurt, with tears in his eyes, his weapon broken, lying abandoned next to him, rage had took over him.

"Thanks, Thorin." Legolas said in a sad voice, trying to concentrate on the dwarf prince's face and forcing himself to smile as an attempt to reassure him when he sensed the worry and anger in his voice. "But that won't be necessary. He won't be laying a hand on me again or even... permit me to stand in his... presence ever again." The elven prince finished while new tears found their way out.

"What...?" Thorin asked confused.

"He knows."

And he didn't need further explanation, for he knew who "He" was.

"No..." And pain was placating the rage in his heart now. Pain because he knew what the implications of that were for the young prince. "Legolas, I'm so sorry. I... I never thought..."

"No, Thorin. It is me who should apologize." Legolas said, needing to avert his eyes from the other's sad gaze. "It was my... lust, my reckless behavior, which drew us into this situation."

"I didn't exactly try that hard to resist you Legolas! Don't take all the blame!" Thorin told him, lifting his chin with two fingers to force him into looking him in the eyes once more. "I wanted it to happen too. And I will tell your father that." He said as he stood up from where he had been kneeling by Legolas' side.

"No! Thorin, Wait!" The elven prince almost yelled, grabbing him by the wrist. "He already blames you enough!"

"I can imagine that..."

"No, you can't. He... he thinks that us doing what we were doing, me screaming for him, he walking in in that very moment, that ALL OF THAT, is your doing!"

"My doing?! Why would I want to be caught with you in THAT moment?!" He asked truly confused.

"He thinks it's all a plan of yours to start..."

"A war." The dwarf prince finished the sentence when realization hit him.

"Yes! But I don't know why!"


"Why can he not see the truth that has been in front of him all along!" Legolas said between sobs, struggling to keep some of all the air now leaving his lungs. "Why would he rather believe in some... plot, production of his own mind, instead of...?!"

"Instead of what, Legolas? ...That his own son is in love with him?!" Thorin interrupted him, telling himself that he was not justifying Thranduil's reaction for the elven king himself, but for the young prince to understand. "Because when he saw you screaming for HIM while being taken by another male, he could either believe that you were being forced or persuaded to do it, or believe that you WANTED TO DO IT! That you were in fact thinking of him in that moment! What would you have him CHOOSING to believe?"

At that, Legolas let go Thorin's wrist and thought about the words spoken.

"You're right." The elven prince said, finding some sort of peace in the new resolution that came with understanding that his father was still oblivious to his feelings because deep inside he couldn't accept the truth. "You're right, Thorin. He cannot believe that I love him as anything beyond a father..."

"That's what I'm trying to tell..."

"So I'll have to make it clear to him. So it won't be his decision to believe it or not, he simply won't have that choice."

"What are you saying?!" And now it was the dwarf prince the one on the brink of yelling.

"I'm going to tell him, Thorin." Legolas said standing up, shaking a little from the pain. "About my feelings for him, about the things I've done thinking about HIM! About how HE is the one driving me insane, pushing me to do this..." And he was about to say "disgusting acts", but he realized he would be offending the dwarf prince refering to what they were about to do as "disgusting". "this... forbidden acts!"

"You can't possibly be serious about this! YOU CAN'T TELL HIM, Legolas!" And as much as he tried to control the volume of his voice, he failed.

"But I want him... no, I NEED him to know!"

"And what then?! Have you thought about that?! Suppose you tell him and suppose he does believe you. If he leaves you in this state for finding you in sexual acts with a dwarf, what do think he would do if he knew you have sexual desires towards HIM?!"

"I'll find out soon enough." The elven prince said trying to walk, but a strong grip on his arm stopped him.

"He will kill you, Legolas."

There was a long silence between them before Legolas found the strength to break it.

"He's my father... he wouldn't kill me." He said, trying to sound convinced that he knew that to be truth, but his broken voice gave him away.

"Before today..." Thorin said softening his grip in Legolas' arm. "Before mere moments ago... did you think him capable of laying a hand on you? of... hitting you?"

"" And tears he didn't thought he was still holding, started to fall.

The sight broke the dwarf prince's heart, who turned the young prince around and reached out his hand as far as he could to place it on Legolas' bruised cheek.

"Legolas, I... I can understand this is something you need to do. I can't stop you from doing it, but please... please, don't tell him just now. He's obviously not himself right now." Thorin said trying to reassuring him, softly caressing the mistreated skin. " I fear for your life."

At this, Legolas looked him in the eyes, taken by the hurt he saw in them.

"As I do for yours." He said, leaning in until his lips meet Thorin's in a chaste kiss. For all he knew, it would be the last one they would share. "I will follow your advice. I promise I won't tell him the truth until the right time comes, if there is such thing as a right time to tell your father you're in love with him." He said forcing a smile to let the dwarf prince think he was going to be alright. Yet it would take more than that to easy the other's mind. "But I promise..." Legolas went on. "I will not stand back and watch dwarves pay with their lives for my mistakes."

"Thank you, Legolas." Thorin said, smiling back. "For calling them by their race, and not just as "my kind", in a despising way."

There were so many words left unspoken.

Legolas wanted to say things such as "thank you" or "goodbye". Thorin wanted to make him swear he would take care of himself, or promise him that it wouldn't be the last time they would see each other.

But they were princes. Far more than that, they were warriors. Words of that sort, they were not allowed to share. Not without showing weakness and revealing feelings that had come too fast and too far for both of them to be justify.

So they would have to remind unspoken, and a silent goodbye was all they could share for now.

Chapter Text

Thranduil felt the guilt and pain that came as soon as his outbreak of rage passed. Legolas had done something wrong, almost unforgivable, but as why was that unforgivable he didn't truly knew. Was it because it involved a dwarf? Or another male? Or was it because he still thought of Legolas as an elfling? HIS elfling, to be precise. Whatever reason he may had have, Thranduil knew he had overstepped.

'I... hit him. I must have hurt him.' Thranduil thought, reliving the moment he had deliberately chosen to apply the right amount of force in the right places to cause more pain. 'Maybe I've... gone too far. Maybe I could... No! I can not let my resolution crumble that fast, that easy! He's not a child anymore! He's an adult, as he so... vividly shown me tonight, and he must be punished as such!' Thranduil decided.

He had found the way to the chambers the dwarves had provided to them, where one of his escort waited for him and the others searching for the prince to return.
The elven king instructed him to gather the others and to prepare to depart. His matters with the dwarf king were definitely over and he had no wishes to stay in that place longer than necessary.

Once everything was ready, Thranduil mounted his deer and gave the great gates of Erebor, one last look. He was leaving his son there. For all he knew, Legolas may never try to return home. The image of his once innocent child, kneeling on the stone floor, crying, hurt, broken, begging for forgiveness, formed in the back of his mind. For all he knew, that could be the last image of his son he would ever have, and it was not one he would like to carry with him for the eternity.

His heart sank with sorrow but he forced himself to turn away and leave. The other elves were already concerned for the absence of their prince and now for their king's strange behavior. They didn't need to know, Thranduil was certain of that. What had took place in that cursed mountain would for ever remain buried there and never see the light of day, just as the many treasures there hidden, cursed, as he had assured the dwarf king.

He wasn't too far from the gates when he heard a hasty gallop behind them. Startled, he turned around.

"Legolas!" Thranduil said with surprise when he saw that the one approaching was no other that his son.

He looked pale and just as broken as when he left him, but there was something different in his eyes. Something that Thranduil could only recognize as determination.

"It seems I didn't make myself clear before." The elven king said, looking down at his son, quickly masking his sadness with an expression of pure disgust.

"You did... my king." Legolas answered, deciding to use his father's title as a way to let him know he knew things were going to be different now.

"I know I am no longer..."

"I remember my words well enough, Legolas. They will not be repeated again. Not by me, not by anybody."

Thranduil was disappointed and ashamed of his son, but he wouldn't let the entire kingdom loose his respect for the one they once called their prince. If they knew the punishment they would wonder what Legolas' crime had been, and if they found out he had bedded a dwarf, they would for sure never honour his memory again.

Thranduil guided his deer to stand right next to his son's horse and bringing their faces close, he whispered in Legolas' ear so no one else could hear.

"The disgrace of your shameful acts will remain a secret, as well as your punishment for them. Is that clear?"

His father's closeness, the air leaving his lips to almost caress his skin, his deep severe voice, his piercing eyes that he did not yet dared to meet but felt upon him... were enough to make Legolas stop breathing, his entire body shivering with fear... with want.

"It... It is, my Lord." Was all Legolas was able to say, not trusting his voice to elaborate further.

But when he saw his father turning around once more, ready to leave without another word, he forced himself to speak.

"Yet... my punishment did not include exile."

At this, Thranduil stopped in his tracks. Anger clear in his face once more.

"You are no longer a prince! And you are by far not worthy to be a warrior either! If you come back it would be as no more than a servant. You understand that?!"

"Then your servant I shall be. If you would take me." Legolas said meeting his father's eyes for the first time since he had begged him for forgiveness kneeling in the stone floor.

'Take... you?' And Thranduil's unconscious mind was faster than his ability to process and understand why an expresion such as that,coming from his son's mouth, brought now images of what he had witnessed in that mountain.

Legolas on his back. His lean body naked, sweaty. His legs wide open, stretched out in an angle that it had to be painful, to allow access to... 'Thorin' The thought of the dwarf prince was enough to bring Thranduil back to present and revive all the anger he had felt back then.

"You're right. I did forget to exile you, now that I think of it. My mistake." 

And Legolas' hurt expression was appeasing his rage. Maybe because it was a proof that his son was regretting what he had done.

"Very well..." Thranduil continued after closing the distance between them again, this time even giving a quick look to the other elves to make sure they couldn't listen what he was about to say.

"You may come back..."

"Thank you my king, I..."

"But..." Thranduil cut him off. "Know that there is no turning back. I will not tolerate you neglecting your duties once again, whether they be from assist me in my daily meetings to making my bed in the morning, once you suddenly realize being a servant is not as easy as you may thought. Anything I command you to do, you'll do. Is that understood?"

"Yes my king." Legolas said, a strange feeling between happiness, for having second chance, and sadness for having lost the close relationship he once had with his father, filling his heart.

"Good. Now I will think a way to justify your new... position in the kingdom other than you losing your right to rule our lands because you let a dwarf take his pleasure in you like a common whore." Thranduil said with a poisonous voice, walking away afterward, leaving Legolas sinking in the realization that this is how it was going to be between them from now on.

Chapter Text

The journey to Mirkwood seemed even longer now, on their way back. The woods seemed more hostile, the air thicker, poisonous. Or at least that's how Thranduil felt it.
It was taking all his willpower not to look at Legolas, for he knew that a mere glimpse of his son would be enough to fuel the anger he was trying to keep at bay.
The last time he did look at him, at the gates of Erebor, Legolas' clothes were in disarray, his hair all tangled and messy, his skin dirty, his cheek reddened by the force of the slap he had received moments before. His whole body screamed he had been ravished.
No, Thranduil couldn't stand to see him like that.

There was, however, a sense over which he had no control.
A very particular smell had been following them all the way back from Erebor. Dwarf smell. More specifically, Thorin's smell. That dwarf had the strongest of smells, and the worst too, Thranduil was sure.
The second he met him and sensed his smell, he had known he could never forget it. He just had expected never having to smell it again.
But he had been so wrong.

At first, the Elvenking thought that it was because of their relative proximity to the dwarf prince himself, that he could still smell him.
Then, when they were far from the mountain and deep into the woods, he thought the dwarf had to be following them, for his scent was just as strong as before. Yet he discarded the idea when after he sent a few of his scort to search the surroundings, they came back empty handed.
Now, close to the entrance of his own kingdom, that scent had brought him to the verge of madness.

That scent betrayed by the wind, close, but not too close, that followed him from behind like a shadow, like a soul in grief, like...

'Legolas...' The revelation came along with every thought Thranduil was dying to put behind.


If he had found any kind of resolve inside that mountain, it was for sure still back there because Legolas didn't have it within him anymore.

Any hope he may had have of talking to his father, of make him see he wasn't just some desperate wanton elf, who would throw himself at anyone, or as his father had made it clear he thought, at EVERYONE, it died along the way to Mirkwood.
His father wouldn't even look at him, let alone talk to him. Legolas didn't blame him, even himself wasn't sure he could ever look at his own reflection on a mirror ever again.
So, since they had left Erebor, Legolas had nailed his eyes to the ground and had succeeded in keeping them there until, just when they were close to their destination, his father's voice startled him.

"Galion, you and the others go ahead." Thranduil said pulling at the reins of his deer, stopping all of the sudden.

"My Lord?"

"Legolas and I need to do something first."

"Then please, my king..." Galion said almost fearful, noticing his king's annoyance when he didn't obey right away. "...allow me to stay. The orcs are getting stronger and the spiders bolder. It is not safe."

Thranduil fought to soften his tone.

"My loyal Galion. Your worries are welcome, but not at all needed. We'll be fine. Now go."

Not a bit convinced, Galion threw a concerned look to his prince, but had no other choice than leave.

Legolas, who had been watching them from a safe distance, could tell that his father's forced peaceful tone and kind words, were only the calm before the storm.
So he started to think in the possible reasons for his father to want to be left alone with him.
If something like this had took place days ago, he knew his mind would had been plagued with fantasies of naked bodies and sweat and everything his past dreams had been plagued of.
But now he feared what his father could want to say to him, to do to him, that demanded not having any witnesses.

His mind was going in riddles when once again, for the second time that day, his father's voice startled him.

"Legolas, follow me." Thranduil said in a severe tone.

Only then, did Legolas noticed that everyone were already gone.
His whole body tensed and his hands tightened on his horse's reins as he headed in his father's direction.

It didn't take long before they arrived to a place Legolas remembered well. The particular place where it all had begun. The waterfall.
The same waterfall to which he had followed his father the day he decided to take a walk all by himself.
The day that started with the most pure of intentions, to protect his father if any danger came to him, but ended with the most depraved of thoughts when the king had decided to bath in those very same waters, and he, his son, had fixed his eyes on his body, contemplated his beauty, started to crave for his touch.
This place was cursed, Legolas was sure of it, and now they were riding right into it. But why?

'He knows.' Legolas thought, unconsciously pulling at the reins of horse in a way that it had to be painful, making the poor animal to stop.
'What other reason could he possibly have to bring me to this place? He knows. Maybe... maybe he knew it all along. Maybe he did saw me that day and now he...'

"I told you to follow me Legolas." Thranduil said without even looking behind. "If a servant cannot fulfill such a simple command, then I have no use for such servant."

Legolas understood the threat in those words and forced himself to go on despite his fear.
If he wanted to make things right, he knew he needed to start with precisely that: obey every single order his father gave him.

By the time they both reached the edge of the stream, Legolas' body was trembling with anticipation.
Thranduil, still without looking at him, got off his deer gracefully, as always.
Legolas tried to imitate him but a sharp pain in his backside, a pain he had been trying to dissimulate the whole trip, increased with the movement and he couldn't hold back a small cry from it.

That caught Thranduil's attention, who turn his head to look at his son right in time to see his pained face. It didn't took him long to understand where that pain was coming from.
The realization made his blood boil with rage.

"Undress yourself! Now!" Thranduil yelled at him between clenched teeth.

Now it was Legolas' turn to turn his head towards his father. His surprise making impossible for him to remember why he had started to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"What?" He asked, not believing his own ears.

"Are you seriously planning on make me repeat my every command?!" His father said stepping closer, his lips almost trembling with the venom of every word he spoke. "I told you to... UNDRESS - YOURSELF! Or I swear I'll make you!"

"Wh... what?" Legolas stammered, unconsciously backing while his father advanced toward him.

"Aaaargh! THAT'S IT!" The elven king yelled now losing his temper completely, reaching for the dagger he always carried in his belt.

"Wait! Please a... my king! What I meant is why?" Legolas responded stumbling over the rocks at the edge of the lake, losing his balance.

"That is no better! It is not your place to question my orders but to obey them. So. Obey."

"You're right. I... I'm sorry my Lord." Legolas said while his trembling fingers started to loosen up his cloak.

Once it fell to the ground, he went on with his tunic and so he lowered his eyes once more.
He knew perfectly well what his body looked like after his forbidden activities and he didn't wanted to see his father's expression when he discover it.

Thranduil, on his side, was grateful that Legolas decided to lower his gaze, otherwise his son would have been able to see how much his pain was affecting him.
His heart was breaking at seeing his son, once so prideful and self-confident, so noticeable ashamed of himself. Face crimson with embarrassment. Body trembling out of... 'fear?' Thranduil, doubtful, considered.
His hands, so skillful with the bow, struggling with the simplest of tasks. His lips, masters of many languages, stumbling over every word they spoke.
Yes, the sight was killing him. However, once Legolas finally managed to get his tunic slightly open, his eyes fixed into something else, something that had nothing to do with how his son was feeling then, but with what he had done before.
Thranduil could then see, for the first time, the marks that that cursed prince under the mountain, had left on his son.

He could see deep purple marks that went all the way from Legolas' neck to the center of his chest. He could also see of some sort of red marks there, but Legolas had only slightly opened his tunic, obviously carefully not to allow him to have the full view of his upper body, and had stopped there.
At this, Thranduil lost the las bit of patience he got left. That is if he still got any.
He needed to get Legolas clean, off of those disgusting clothes marked with the unbearable smell of the dwarf. But that wasn't all he needed. No.
He needed to see what the other prince had done to his son. What Legolas had allowed him to do to him.

Enraged, Thranduil strode toward the lake, dagger still in hand, and walked past Legolas grabbing him by the wrist in an iron grip with his free hand, taking him with him as he entered the waters.
Legolas could only watch in astonishment and tremble with anticipation, expecting his father's severe punishment at his lack of obedience fall upon him.
Despite Thorin's words, and the weapon his father was carrying, he did not fear he may hit him again, yet something entirely worst.

The water was up to their thighs, when Thranduil finally stopped and turned around to face Legolas.
His eyes, searched his father's. They searched for explanations, for forgiveness, for clemency, he wasn't really sure. But anything, ANYTHING would work for him if it got him out of that lake.
The same lake his dreams had recreated. Those dreams in which he had practically ravished his father. Kissed him, licked him, bitten him...

"Please!" So beg it would be. At least Thorin had teached him something he could use now, Legolas thought as the word left his mouth.
"My king, I'm sorry, I... I'll undress now, I p-promise."

"Stop it, Legolas. Just, keep your mouth shut at less I specifically tell you the contrary. I can't stand to listen to you right now, let alone see you. But... I have... I have to see." The elven king said, leaving his son's eyes to fix his gaze in his body.

And so, Thranduil let go Legolas' wrist and grabbed instead his tunic. He raised his dagger and cut the fabric open, from the bottom to the top.
Legolas was sure then he had to be indeed dreaming. After all, his father was so close to him that he could feel the warm of his body on his own, his hot breath on his skin, the back of his hand touching his chest. It felt too good to be true.

Legolas bit his lips, preventing himself from making any embarrassing sound, but he couldn't prevent his cheeks from turning crimson, his heart from racing, his whole body from shivering at the touches...
Thranduil however, noticed none of this. His eyes and full attention were on the marks Thorin had left in his son's body. Being the red ones, the most concerning ones for they were the nastier ones.
They went almost from Legolas' clavicles to past his belly, and they were at least seven or eight.
Thranduil easily identified them as scratches but, for some reason, he felt the need to recreate the way they must have been done, and so, without thinking it twice, he pulled his son's tunic from his shoulders, stripping his upper body entirely.
He put the dagger back in his belt and then brought both of his hands to Legolas' chest. The sudden contact made Legolas shudder.
This, Thranduil noticed, but went on anyway and placing his fingers in line with the marks, he started to follow their path, softly dragging them southwards.

"Nggg... please." Legolas pleaded, not being able to restrain his mouth any longer, although he suspected that what he was begging for was no longer forgiveness.

The sound should have startled the king, or alerted him somehow of his son's state, but he himself seemed to be in some kind of trance.

"You just can't help it, can you?" Thranduil said in a deep hoarse voice.

Legolas startled, for the third time in the day, and looked at his father, terror written on his face, when he suddenly realized the kind of noise he had made.
However, before he could even try to explain himself, Thranduil went on.

"You can't help to disobey. I didn't told you you could t...alk" His father said, finally looking him in the eyes.

Noticing only now his son's body reactions. The hammering of his heart, his quick breathing, the way he was trembling. It all made him remember his previous thought.

"Legolas, are you... afraid of me?" The elven king asked, letting his hands, still on Legolas' chest, fall to his sides.

"Yes..." Legolas answered, his voice no more than a shaky whisper.

"For the love of the Valar, that's ridiculous!" Thranduil practically yelled throwing his hands at the air and putting a little more distance between them.

"I only raise my hand against you once. ONCE! Legolas. In all your existence. And you deserved it, you know you did. "

"I know, but..."

"And what about THIS?!" The elven king said pointing at Legolas' marks.
"When you let HIM do THIS to your body, tell me, were you afraid then?!"

"My Lord I..."

"How could you let him mark you this way? Even worst, How could you ASK for it?!" And Legolas' wanton voice saying: 'break me...' came to his mind as vivid as when he heard it coming from his lips that day.
"You like pain Legolas? Does it satisface you to be humiliated?"

If Legolas' heart was beating fast before, now it was about to jump out of his chest.
He knew he had to answer. That he should say 'no, it was a mistake' even if it was a lie.
But he wasn't sure what kind of sound would leave his mouth if he were to open it, for he was fully aroused right now, his member, painfully hard, content, 'thanks to the Valars' he was sure, for his leggings.

"So you do!" Thranduil said, indignant with his son's silence.

"All right then. I'll give you humiliation. Take off the rest of your clothes."

Once again, Legolas doubted his own ears.
He couldn't believe what was happening, what his father was asking him to do, nor could he understand why, and his dozed off mind running wild with lustful thoughts, wasn't making the situation any better.

"I'll say it one last time." The elven king said when his son didn't attempt to move.
"Take the rest of your clothes off or I swear I'll cut it open with my knife and I can't promise you your skin will be untouched this time.

Legolas knew then that he had only two choices.
He could either walk away from that waterfall, or strip naked right there and then.
One of those options meant never seeing his father again. The other, the very strong posibility of never seeing his father again, if his true feelings were discovered.
But still, if he had even the slightest chance of remain by his father's side, he was ready to do whatever it took. So he lowered his head in shame and walked past his father, towards the center of the lake.

Thranduil observed him, wondering if he had gone too far with his punishment and Legolas had finally decided he had had enough.
The thought unleashed a war in his heart, between the part that was still so mad at his son that made almost unbearable to even look at his face, and the part that knew he would always love him no matter what he did.
Thranduil considered the idea of stopping him and tell him he was not yet forgiven, but that he could go back home with him now. However, he prevented himself from doing it.
Now more than ever he had to be severe with his son, he had to teach him a lesson.

Soon enough, Legolas reached a deeper part of the lake, where the water reached his waist, and stopped.
With shaky hands, he took off his belt, letting it get lost in the stream, and then started to pull off his leggings, struggling to keep his balance when he raised one leg and then the other to free himself of the garment.

Thranduil observed this, for some reason, mesmerized.
He thought Legolas' body was perfection itself, after all he was his father. For him his son had always been perfect. And yet, this was the first time he paid attention to the well defined lines of his shoulders and back, to his slim waist. Or, actually, the second time to be precise.
Thranduil realized that, remembering the morning he had entered Legolas' bedroom and his son was, obviously, lost in wild dreams.
The memory always brought along a strange feeling he couldn't quite identify. However, now wasn't the time to try it.

Once Legolas finally managed to took his leggings off, without even turning around, he took them in one hand and extended his arm to the side, as if presenting them to his father.
Thranduil walked towards his son with some difficulty, due to the weight of his own wet clothes, and stopped right behind him, so close he could feel the warm of his body.
Legolas then, froze. If he were to feel his father pressed against his back, he was sure he would loose what little control he had left over his body.
Yet, that didn't happen.
Thranduil just stood there, and then, suddenly, he took Legolas' leggings in his own hand as he bended over him, approaching his lips to his son's right ear.

"This clothes..." The elven king whispered with venom. "...stinks of dwarf. Of him. And I would rather drag you to the gates of our kingdom naked, than smelling like that, like his property."

'What? Drag me naked?!' Legolas thought with terror.

The young elf turned around, his sudden movement making his father give a step back. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, immediately, when he noticed a figure in the distance.
It was an orc hiding in some bushes, bow in hand, pointing an arrow at his father's back.

In that moment, without even thinking it, Legolas took the dagger out of his father's belt and pushed him out of the arrow's trajectory with all his strength, making him loose his balance and fall into the water. Then, he threw the weapon aiming at the creature's head.
It all happened too fast.
Thranduil got back too his feets just in time to see his dagger landing in the enemy's skull and then, seconds later, catch Legolas from behind when he suddenly fell.
What he had missed in those decisive seconds, was that the orc had managed to shoot its bow just before he fell, and now, with Legolas' back against his chest, he could see where the arrow, of which launching he didn't even knew about, had landed.

"No..." Thranduil breathed out in a trembling voice, as if suddenly running out of air, when he saw the arrow nailed in his son's right shoulder.
"No, you... silly child, why did you...?! No, it doesn't matter, you're going to be fine, Legolas, I promise." He said, trying to mask his desperation, yet Legolas could see right through it.

'He's worried.' He thought, and an almost imperceptible smile drawn on his face.
"It's nothing, Ada." Legolas said. His current pain, or joy, or both, making him forget completely his father had forbidden him to call him that again.
"Just... m-my shoulder. I'll be fine, but we should get moving. That thing probably did not come this far alone."

And he was already trying to get back to his feets as he spoke, but slipped and failed miserably, colliding once more against his father, only this time, facing him, since it seemed the king had taken the oportunity and changed his position in order to take a better hold of his son if he nedded it.
The good thing was that their new position, with his father holding him from under the arm not affected by the arrow, leaving the wounded area of his body free, was, indeed, causing him considerably less pain.
The bad thing was that, to support his own weight and his son's without losing his balance and fall too, Thranduil had spread his legs a little, and, in his fall, Legolas had ended up with his legs at either side of his father's right one, the same one that, to make things worst, the king had bend forward a little to help his arm support Legolas.
Now, the young elf was again very aware of his state of nakedness as the sensitive skin of his member grazed his father's tunic, hardening once more despite the pain he felt.
Too concerned with Legolas' state of health, Thranduil was still oblivious to his son's state.

"Don't do that, Legolas." Thranduil practically yelled, making Legolas' heart skip a beat.
"Don't try to walk by yourself." He continued, taking his son's left arm and placing it on his shoulder, increasing in the process, the contact between them.

"Aaahhh..." Legolas yelped with want, his member begging for more contact, his hips struggling not to succumb to its request and thrust forward.

Thranduil, mistaking Legolas' scream for a pained one, retreated a little, but just enough to be able to look down into his son's face. His legs, however, did not moved an inch.

"I'm sorry, I was just... trying" Thranduil began to stammer when he noticed, only then, Legolas' hard member pressed against his leg.

That was Legolas' signal. He had definitely been discovered, and deny it was not an option any more, Legolas was sure of it.
So all he could do now was try to explain himself and beg for forgiveness. But it was, of course, easier said than done.
Ever since he came to accept he was in love with his father, he had feared this precise moment. The moment he would have to confront him and tell him something he knew it would break his heart, for it was unthinkable... unforgivable.

"I... I'm so sorry. I swear I never... meant for any of this to happen, you have to believe me!" Legolas desperate tried to explain as tears started to roll down his burning cheeks and he forced himself to meet his father's eyes although he was sure he would find nothing more than hate and disgust in them now.

That, however, did not happened.
Thranduil's eyes, far from showing any of those emotions, were not showing any emotion at all. He seemed, instead, to have frozen in place, probably trying to process what was happening, what Legolas was saying but failing greatly.
His expression blank, the color of his face completely drained, his lips slightly parted, as if wanting to say something but not finding the words to do it.

Legolas had prepared himself for disgust, even for hatred. But not knowing what was happening inside his father's head was killing him.

"Please, I beg you... say something, any..." He started to plead but wasn't able to finish the sentence when a sharp pain begun to spread from his shoulder to the rest of his body making him squirm in agony.


Legolas' harrowing cry was enough to pull Thranduil back from his thoughts.

"Legolas! What's wrong?!" He asked, already looking at his shoulder with concern.

"I don't... know. It wasn't hur...ting this much before, I... aaagggghhh!"


"I can feel s-something... spreding, inside my... my body. Is like..."

"Poison..." Thranduil said, and his father's deep voice, breaking at the end of the word, was the last thing Legolas heard.

Chapter Text

He heard sounds of battle, the wind whistling as the arrows zipped by, the sound of steel against steel, against flesh. He heard someone's heavy breathing, close… too close. And this, this, he also felt on his skin, brushing his forehead as the person whispered tenderly, "Fear not, my son. I promise I'll keep you safe."

'Ada?!' It was Legolas' first thought.

He tried to open his eyes but his eyelids were not obeying him. Neither were his arms or legs, or any part of his body. He knew from what he was hearing that his father was in danger, and yet he could do nothing to protect him. Not a single thing. Legolas was trapped in his own mind.
He felt his heart race at the realization, but then the sounds of battle seemed to fade, and then vanished completely. The sounds that replaced them, came along with the strong smell of blood.

"He's fading my Lord!" He heard a female voice say. "I need your permission to remove the arrow so I can start treating him."

"Do you swear on your life you know what you’re doing?!" He recognized his father's deep and penetrating voice saying.

"I swear it." She said, confident.

"Then please... save him!"

'Please...?' The word echoed in Legolas' mind for he couldn't remember having heard it come from his father's lips before.

However, any further thought he could have given to the matter died when he felt as if his entire right arm was being ripped from his body.

"Ahh!" He yelled in pain, and this time, he heard his own voice.

"Legolas, be strong, my child! It will be over soon, I promise." His father reassured him, and he felt strong hands gently search his own. And then, every sound and any other kind of sense faded out once more.


The next thing that Legolas felt upon waking was that breathing again, still upon his forehead, only this time it wasn't heavy, but peaceful, calm. And unlike before, he was able to open his eyes.
His eyelids still seemed to fight his wishes, but at least now, though very slowly, they were responding. The light reaching them, however, as poor as it was, as its source was a candle, burned his eyes like the morning sun would if one were to look directly at it, and yet, Legolas fought to keep them open. Once they adjusted to the dim brightness, the sight in front of him proved to be worthy of being seen.

"Ada..." Legolas whispered, contemplating his father's face, only a few inches away from his own. He was asleep, deeply asleep.

Legolas could remember a time when sleeping in his father's bed, next to him, wasn't such a rare thing. When he was little, it happened, in fact, quite often.
As an elfling, he had found any excuse to sneak out of his quarters in the night and jump into his Ada's bed, claiming he was afraid of the lightning, if it happened to be a stormy night; or that he had had a bad dream. And no matter what he said or how unbelievable it sounded, Thranduil had always allowed him to stay with him through the entire night. He embraced him in his arms, close to his chest, and caressed his head until he fell asleep.
Yes. Legolas could remember those times. Simpler times. When being so close to his father made him feel safe instead of... aroused, which was exactly how he was feeling now.

'This must be a dream.' Legolas thought, with a mixture of contentment and sadness. 'What other explanation could there be for this...? For you to be here... lying with me, when you so utterly hate me now.'

Legolas almost broke into tears at the thought, but his body had a mind of its own, and it wasn't particularly disturbed by the guilt he felt for the heat radiating from the Elvenking's body was enough to divert his attention to a different matter.

'You're so beautiful, Ada. How I wish I could tell you that.' Legolas thought, as he brought his left hand to his father's face and rearranged a strand of his hair.

'I wish I could tell you that I love you, and I wish you would tell me you feel the same way. Maybe then, I would be allowed to touch you... to kiss you...' And with his fingertips, he delicately brushed the Elvenking's lips.

To his surprise, the soft lips slowly parted under his ministrations, and Legolas couldn't help butto shiver in anticipation, for his naked body under the covers was begging to find an equal mate.

"Oh, Ada..." He whispered in a wanton, desperate tone, licking his own lips and closing the distance between him and his father.

"What are you doing?!" A female's voice exclaimed right when their mouths were about to touch, startling the young prince to his very core, making him turn his head immediately to identify the stranger.

Legolas then saw a tall redhead elf carrying what seemed to be some sheets in her arms, standing at the foot of the bed with a shocked look on her face.

"What are YOU doing in... " he protested, then stopped. 'In my... dream?' Legolas thought, confused, not understanding how he could possibly be dreaming about someone whom he had never met, someone who interrupted the pleasant activities he was doing to his father.

'Unless this isn't...' his thoughts continued. "Oh, Valar!" He exclaimed, snapping his head towards his father when the realization hit him. 'This isn't a dream!' His mind screamed when he met his father's eyes, completely opened, staring back at him.

Legolas's hand, lying forgotten in the King's chin, quickly retracted, and he opened his mouth to try to explain himself, but no sound came forth as his mind was still too clouded with desire to wrestle with anything coherent.
Thranduil recognized the look on Legolas' face. It was the same frightened look he had seen on his son's face at the waterfalls. He could count with the fingers of one hand the number of occasions he had seen his son so scared, the last one being his little reaction at the stream with him.

Not wanting to remember the awkward situation, Thranduil hurried to speak.

"You're awake, Legolas. I'm glad." The Elvenking said, his tone unreadable.

"Y-yes, Ada –"

"Tauriel." His father interrupted, rising gracefully from the bed and looking at the redhead elf. "Check on his wound and inform me of it's progress. I have matters to attend to."

And with that, Thranduil exited the room, which only now Legolas recognized as his own, leaving him alone with the stranger. They looked at each other for what Legolas felt like hours, awkwardness filling the space between them, until Tauriel broke the silence.

"I'm so sorry, my prince. I haven't introduced myself properly." She said nervously. "I'm Tauriel. I'm a Silvan elf. I met you and your father by accident in the woods. You were..."

'Naked, right.' Legolas thought as she spoke, surprised he could still feel embarrassed about something so little when she had just witnessed something a lot worse.

"...injured, my Lord. It was a poisoned arrow." She went on as she put the sheets down on the mattress and approached the chair next to Legolas. "I was hunting for food when I saw the orcs, ten, maybe more, attacking you at the waterfall."

"And you helped us." Legolas said with a shy smile, lowering his guard, seeing that her intentions were good. "Thank you. We are in debt for your kindness."

She only responded by smiling back at him.

"But I don't understand. Why is my father still keeping you from returning to your home? Our healers could take care of my wellbeing from here on."

"Well, I suppose it's because I told him I've cured wounds such as yours many times, since our lands have been infested with orcs for as long as I can remember, and poisoned arrows are, apparently, their weapon of choice." She said as her eyes settled on the prince's shoulder.

"I see." Legolas responded, thoughtful. "I'm sorry Tauriel. We've been so concerned in keeping those creatures out of our own lands that I have never stopped to think..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, my prince. You were thinking about your people's safety." She said with a tender voice that made Legolas' heart feel warm, something he hadn't felt in a long time. "However, now is time to think about your own safety. So may I check your wound, my Lord?”

"Oh, of course. We must not awaken my father's wrath by disobeying him. You wouldn't like it."

"Indeed, I don't." Tauriel said, starting to remove the prince's bandage.

"He's been really furious, hasn't he?"

"I wouldn't say furious but... perhaps upset. He was truly worried for you."

"He was?" Legolas asked with a contentment he failed to hide.

"Of course he was. He refused to leave your side this entire time, from the day we arrived until today. After the first couple of days, I suggested for him to use the bed since it became clear that he wouldn't leave until you at least regained consciousness."

Tauriel's words resounded in Legolas' head like the sweetest melody. His father didn't hate him. He may still be angry at him, but he didn't hate him, and that was enough. Enough at least to feed in his heart the hope of rebuilding from the pieces the relationship they had once shared. It would take time, but now he knew it was possible, and that alone was enough to make him happy.
Tauriel didn't miss the change in the young prince's expression. She wondered, however, why such a natural fact as a father being concerned for the health of his child was making him so pleased. It was a complete mystery to her. Even so, she knew it wasn't her place to ask, so she chose to continue talking.

"Nevertheless, the King feared he may accidentally hurt you if he laid next to you. It wasn't until last night, when we realized him staying close was actually beneficial to you, that he agreed to rest by your side." She said as she finished carefully removing Legolas' bandages, which had been slightly glued to the prince’s skin with dried blood.

The pain brought on by the bandages being peeled off brought Legolas back from his thoughts. He had been so focused in what Tauriel was saying about his father being concerned for his well being that he realized some important information had escaped him. Only now did he start to really process her words.

"Wait, did you say after the first couple of days?" He asked her as she rose hurriedly from the chair and went to fetch something from a nearby table. "How long was I unconscious?"

"T-ten days, my Lord." Tauriel said nervously, returning with some herbs and new bandages.

"Ten days! I've returned with worse wounds from battles and never have I slept that long to recuperate! Is that normal? And what you said about my father's closeness being beneficial, what did you mean by that?"

"Well, ever since you've been injured, you've been talking in your sleep, my prince, screaming even, restless. Sometimes it was hard to restrain you so that your wound wouldn't open again. But then suddenly, you would calm down and just... sleep, peacefully. Yesterday, we noticed that this only happened every time your father was truly close to you."

Legolas understood why his father would have had such effect over him, but what his mind was particularly focused on was the way the other elf's hands were shaking as she mixed the herbs for his medicine.

"Tauriel, you didn't answer my first question." He inquired. "Is it normal, the way this wound is… healing?"

"That's the problem, my prince." Tauriel answered, looking him in the eyes and then down to his shoulder with a worried expression. "Your wound is not healing at all."

As the female elf spoke, Legolas followed her eyes, and only when she paused did he see for the first time the damage the arrow had left engraved on his skin. A black stain extended in the shape of tree branches from the center of the wound in all directions, reaching his forearm, his chest, even a part of his neck.

"My father..." Legolas said, looking up at her with hope in his eyes. "What did my father say about this?"

"He said...” Tauriel hesitated. ”Well, he was talking to himself. I don't think he had meant for me to hear, so I probably shouldn't..."

"Tauriel, please. If he had even a remote theory about what this is, I need to know."

Tauriel only sighed and, for a moment, Legolas thought that was all she was going to do, but then she began to speak once more as she started to apply the now moist ointment on his wound.

"He said you didn't want to get better. He said you were planning on abandoning him because of what he had done to you." She answered in a soft voice, full of worry and sorrow. "That's all I heard."

Legolas struggled to digest Tauriel's words, but they were not making any sense to him. His father should still be mad at him because of what he, himself did, not feel guilty about how he had reacted to it. She couldn't have heard him right, could she? Legolas decided he needed to know.

"I – I don't understand, Tauriel. He seemed so angry at me when I woke up. He didn't even... stay."

"Even so, if you don't mind me saying, I don't think His Highness’ actions meant that he doesn't care for your well being, my Lord. He's been through a lot too this past days."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that his son's life was at risk and there didn't seem to be anything anybody could do to help you. But that wasn't all." Tauriel said, lowering the volume of her voice. "Every word you said in your sleep seemed to trouble him so much."

"What? What did I say?"

“Not-not much." She answered, hurriedly busying herself with putting the new bandages over the wound, clearly trying to avoid Legolas' eyes. "Just something about a... mountain and that you were sorry. Sometimes, you called for him and sometimes..."

"Yes?" Legolas said, trying to encourage her to go on, noting the fear in the other elf’s eyes, probably due to her being aware that she was speaking of delicate matters, family matters she shouldn't even know. "It is truly... fine, Tauriel. Please continue."

"Well...s-sometimes you called for someone else."

'No... ' Legolas thought, feeling betrayed by his own unconsciousness. 'Oh please… tell me I didn't call for...'

"Thorin… I think that was the name." She quickly answered, finishing fixing the bandages, still not meeting his eyes.

"Oh, Valar. Tauriel, I need to talk to him!"

And before she could even react, Legolas was rising from the bed, all pain or state of nakedness forgotten.

"My Lord, please!" She said placing a hand ion his unhurt shoulder, trying to hold him down. "You need to rest."

"No, you don't understand. What I need is to explain him. I need..."

"And you will. You will, my Prince. Just... please, let me go call him for you. I'm sure he would be here in no time."

At this, Legolas stopped struggling and tried to slow his breathing, as his chest was starting to hurt every time his lungs filled with too much air.

"Th-thank you, Tauriel. I would appreciate it." He said giving her a soft smile. "But please, before you go, would you help me stand and maybe put some clothes on? I don't want to be prostrate in this bed when I tell him what I need to tell him." 'And I for sure don't want to be naked either.' He thought, cursing his dark humor.

"Of course, my Lord," She said, smiling back at him with tenderness. "Just take my hand."

After a few minutes, Legolas stood on the balcony dressed in a light robe, using the railing for support.

"I'll go call your father now, my Lord. If you feel weak or dizzy, please return to the bed. I'll be back shortly." Tauriel stated and left the room.


What was waiting for her on the other side of the door, she never would have anticipated.

"That took you long enough." Thranduil said in a deep, frightening voice.

He had been standing outside the room the whole time, waiting on Tauriel's report on the state of his son's health, clearly worried sick, but trying to hide it. At least to Legolas.

"Well? I hope you have come to tell me he's been cured by now, otherwise, I can't possibly imagine what in the Valar's name had kept you occupied for so long in there."

"I-I'm so sorry, my King." She answered, bowing as a sign of respect, fearful of awakening the king’s legendary wrath. "Your son had questions and –"

" And it is not your place to answer them." The king interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, you're right."

Thranduil snorted, impatient.

"Your apologies are of no use to me. A better use of my time would be hearing about Legolas' condition, so inform me."

"There's no improvement. The wound keeps bleeding and the stain branching out."

"No..." Thranduil said, letting his cold facade fade as his face reflected all the anguish he was feeling.

"Ho-however, he seems to be regaining his strength.” Tauriel continued nervously. “He requested to be helped to be on his feet and, as a matter of fact, he is standing behind these doors right now, hoping he’d be allowed to talk to you."

The Elvenking opened his mouth as if to say something when Tauriel informed him of his son's increasing strength, but no words came out. And by the time she had finished telling him that Legolas wished to speak to him, his expression had changed from relief to preoccupation.
Tauriel did not understand the king’s reaction, but she somehow knew their situation, Legolas' and his, mustn't be normal from the pieces of information and facts she could put together, so she decided to remain silent. It wasn't until a few moments after that Thranduil finally spoke again.

"Thank you for your services, Tauriel." He said, walking toward the doors, stopping right next to her and slightly leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You remember our agreement, right? Not a word about Legolas' body, the other... marks. And in return..."

" Your Highness will help my village to get rid of the orcs." She replied closing her eyes, trying to picture the faces of the people she was doing this for, missing them more and more with every passing day. "Yes, my King, I remember."

"Good. Then you may be dismissed for the moment.” Thranduil said, straightening his back and then walking towards the doors. “But I beg you, keep checking on my son constantly."


When Thranduil entered his son’s room, he saw Legolas standing at the balcony, his back to him, his golden hair almost shining under the light of the sun, and a few strands flying wildly in the wind. His lean body, covered by a silk robe, seemed more delicate now, fragile even.
The King contemplated the sight, and closing his eyes, he let out the air he had been holding out of nervousness and anxiety upon confirming with his own eyes that Tauriel's words were true. His son was getting well.
Legolas hadn't heard him enter, so when Thranduil closed the door behind him, he was startled and quickly turned around.

"Ad... I- I mean, my King." He stammered, remembering his father's order not to call him Ada again. "You came."

"Of course I did." Thranduil replied rather coldly, needing to remind himself that what his son had done wasn't yet forgiven to restrain the urge to walk straight to him and just hug him. "In spite of what you may think, I still worry about your health, Legolas."

"I'm... really glad you do." He stated as he slowly walked towards his father, the king mirroring him.

They met in the center of the room, stopping only when they were at arm's length and, as an awkward silence filled the air, the weight of all the things unsaid became heavier.

It was Thranduil who broke that silence first.

"Tauriel said the wound shows no improvement." He said, looking at Legolas’ arm.

"Well, she hasn't said that to me but I could still tell from the look on her face."

"May I... see it?" Thranduil said, softening his tone. After at all, he wasn't sure of how Legolas felt towards him after the martyrdom he had put him through that day on the waterfall.

Legolas tried to mask it, but hesitancy was clear in his voice and even more so in the way he nervously looked down as he slipped the robe off his right shoulder to uncover the wound.
Upon seeing the spreading black stain on his son's body, all concerns for Legolas’ modesty left the Elvenking's head. The infection seemed to be unstoppable, and just how far it had spread already, he needed to know. So he extended his hand, and reaching the lapels of the robe, he pulled down.
The silk easily slipped off Legolas' right arm, and by the force of his father's tug, the rest of his upper body was almost exposed, only because the prince reacted fast enough to catch the garment, stopping it from falling completely.

"Please... don't." Legolas pleaded in a shaky voice that brought Thranduil back from his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I just..." His father replied, quickly stepping back and then turning around, giving Legolas some privacy to rearrange his clothes. "I just can't stop thinking this is entirely my fault."

"But is not." Legolas said, placing a hand on his father's shoulder, to indicate to him it was fine to turn around again.

"It is, Legolas. And I'm not apologizing for having punished you, you know what you did was wrong, but this... this is too much. I never meant to put your life at risk."

"And you didn't. The only ones to blame are those creatures. I know this, Ad— My Lord. I don't blame you." Legolas said reassuringly.

And Thranduil knew he should feel grateful for his son's words, but he found in that precise second that the only thing those words did were remind him of how Legolas had begged the Dwarf Prince to break him that night on that cursed mountain. Yes, he had learned his son longed to be mistreated, humiliated, and so another memory rushed into his mind: the way he had felt his son's hard member pressed against his leg just after he had abashed him by making him undress to get rid of all the filth his past activities had left.
And just like that, the kind words just spoken by his son had become in, Thranduil's mind, a reminderd of how perverted his Ionin could be.
Was Thorin the one responsible for that? Was he not? Was it really just humiliation what fueled Legolas' passion that night or was it something more?
Those questions had been haunting him, and if he didn't say them out loud, he was sure his head was going to implode.
Watching the troubled look on his face, Legolas could tell his father's mind was a battlefield right at that moment. He was about to ask him about it, to beg him to share his thoughts with him, when Thranduil's deep voice startled him.

"Are you...?" His father started, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, so he let out the air he was holding and tried again. "Are in love with him, Legolas?"

"Wh- what?" Legolas blurted, having expected all kind of reproaches from Thranduil, but never that question.

His father then turned around and walked straight to him, stopping only when they were just inches apart.

"Try to buy some time to come out with something clever to say will be of no use. You know who I'm talking about Legolas, so just answer the question."

"Well, if you're referring to Thorin, then the answer is no. Of course, I'm not!" Legolas said, taking a step back, his father's intimidating figure standing so close to him doing nothing but fuel his fantasies.

"I know you think what I did with him is meant to be done out of love, but sometimes..." 'you do it with anyone because you can't do it with the one you love.' He thought, instantly cursing himself in his head.


"Well, s- sometimes, you do it only for the act itself."

"You mean, like an animal in heat!" Thranduil said getting even angrier.

"NO, No! Please stop calling me things!"

"So you don't want me to think you did that out of lust,but you don't want me to think that you're in love either!" His father practically yelled, throwing his hands in the air, turning around as if to leave and then turning back to his son. "So which is it, Legolas?!"

"Well, it's certainly not love!" He said, his cheeks turning red, both from the anger and the embarrassment he was feeling at having to speak of such matters with his father.

"Is it not?!"

"I swear it! Why... why can't you believe it?!"

"Well, probably because you act as if you were enchanted with him!" His father said, his own cheeks turning red now much to Legolas' surprise. "You... you called for him in your dreams, and you apparently do everything he tells you to!"

"Every – everything he tells me?” he gasped. “I've only spoke with him once!" Legolas responded to his father's accusation, truly lost. "Once! What did I –?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT!" Thranduil growled, closing the distance his son had put between them and lowering just enough to bring their faces at the same level. "He made you... call for me while he was taking his pleasure on you." He whispered.

Legolas couldn't think of anything to respond to that. After at all, how could he possibly explain that without exposing himself? And besides, his father's closeness, the warmth his body was radiating, the scent... everything, was making really hard for him to form any rational thought.

"See, Legolas? You can't even deny it!" His father said, distressed taking a step back. "But it doesn't matter. What I'm beginning to wonder about now is if he asked anything else from you?"

"Like... like what? What do you mean?"

"I mean information. That you –"

"THAT I SPY FOR HIM?!" Legolas cut him off, having never in his life expected that accusation come from his father. "Is that what you're insinuating?!"

"Well, he DID used you after all, and it is hard to believe he was only after pleasure." Thranduil said with disdain looking away from his son.

Legolas knew he had done something wrong – very wrong – and that he deserved every insult his father had been throwing at him every chance he got, but he had never given him any reason to doubt his loyalty towards his kin, towards his King. His father accusing him of selling off his people for his own benefit was unfair and it was pushing him to the edge.

"So first I'm his whore." He said bitterly, moving to step into Thranduil's line of vision, forcing his father to face him once more, "Then, your slave, and now, his spy? Please, My King, YOU tell me which one it is because I sincerely don't know WHAT I am anymore!"

Thranduil looked at him, and for a brief moment Legolas could swear he saw something similar to pain along with surprise on his father's face, but the King had masked those emotions quickly and showed nothing but coldness now.

"You are a stranger to me." Thranduil said, averting his eyes from his son once more, not being able to bear Legolas’ reaction to what he knew were cruel words, although to him, they were nothing but the truth.

"No..." Legolas whimpered, breaking in tears, for of all the things his father had called him so far, this was the one that hurt him the most. "Please, don't... don't say that."

"But is the truth; and it has nothing to do with the dwarf. It... I think it started long before that." The Elven King said, still not daring to look at him.

"One day we were... fine, and then the next day, you started to drift away from me, to ignore me to go and spend your time with anyone who offered you pleasure. I couldn't... anticipate what you were going to do next. You were acting so reckless, so unpredictable, like someone completely different, like someone..."

"In love?" Legolas finished for him.

The word made his father turn around and look him in the eyes, all traces of rage completely gone from his face. Instead, now Thranduil looked anguished, sad, even.

"So it's true then. You're in love with him." He whispered, barely audible.

"I said I'm in love." Legolas said, feeling now the peace that came with having finally made up his mind about what he needed to do. "I never said I was in love with Thorin."

At hearing this, Thranduil remained still and silent, just looking into his son's eyes as if he were trying to read them to make sure he was telling the true.

And after a few moments, his face suddenly seemed to light up. "So you're in love with someone else."


"That's... a relief, I must say – wait! Please tell me it is not another dwarf." His father said, consternation coming back to his features.

"It's not."

"Well, then, who is she? It... it is a she, right?"

"It's not."

"What?! Who is HE then? And please… please, Legolas, do try to elaborate this time!"

"Well..." Legolas started, his father's intimidating voice, now full of anger once more, breaking his newfound calm apart. "He... he is..."

"He– are you even listening to yourself, Legolas? HE!" Thranduil yelled at him as he started to walk from one side of the room to the other. "How could you let that happen?!"

"You say that as if I had any control over it, but I don't!" Legolas said, remembering the day he first saw his father in a different light. "You think I want to feel this way? Frustrated all the time? Feeling ashamed of myself every day of my life?"

And just then, Legolas broke into tears, but forced himself to keep on talking, knowing that for better or for worse, once the truth was out in the open, he would at least feel a weight being lifted off from his shoulders.

"I hate it. I hate feeling this way, to... be this way. But I couldn't help it. It just... happened." He said, not able to look into his father's eyes as he tried to confess his biggest sin. “And I couldn't –”

"It just happened?" Thranduil interrupted him once again, only this time with a calmer voice; the sight of his son in front of him, broken and anguished, sweeping away all traces of rage within the king’s heart. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"


"No, of course you don't. But tell me, Legolas, how would things work out for you and him? Have you at least thought about that? About how you two would have to hide your so-called love because it's profane in the eyes of our people, in the eyes of our gods?" Thranduil continued, trying to sound firm. He was still angry, but the unshed tears in his eyes spoke of the pain he was truly feeling.

"About how you would never have a normal life by his side, a happy life, a... a family? You will wish to form your own family someday, Legolas, and with him, you never could."

And that, right there, was Legolas' opportunity. He knew it was now or never, so he forced himself to look into his father's eyes as he tried to put the truth into words.

"The thing is..." He said, shaking from head to toe. "...he already is my family."

Thranduil's whole body froze in that moment. His muscles tensed, his lungs refused to let out the air he was holding. The only thing in him still functioning was his brain, wich was trying to process a long list of his relatives' names to came out with one who hasn't been dead for over a century, but he had no luck. The only family his son and him had were each other. There was no one else.

"Legolas..." Thranduil said, obliging his vocal cords to obey him. "Who-"

"Are you really going to make me say it out loud?" Legolas interrupted him. "When you already know the answer to that question?"


Chapter Text

When had his feets moved? Legolas couldn't tell, but now he was standing there, only a few inches apart from his father's stiff body. So close he could almost feel his hot breath on his skin. But why almost? Due to their proximity, he knew he should, as a matter of fact, be feeling the exhaled air brushing his face, but he wasn't. Legolas frowned. Why wasn't his father breathing?
He tried to reach for his arm but Thranduil flinched away. It wasn't a particularly abrupt movement and yet it hurts Legolas like a kick to the stomach. He looked down, incapable of holding his father's intense gaze. His mouth opened and closed several times but no words would come from it. The truth was finally in the open, but what followed that?

"No." His father's trembling voice brought him back from his thoughts. "No, what is the meaning of this? What game are you playing, Legolas?"

So denial it was. He should have known by now that speaking the truth didn't necessarily meant that the one listening would accept it as such. But he was done carrying this secret alone. His father needed to see. He needed his father to see.

"I'm sorry." He said, forcing his eyes to meet his father's once more and his mouth to form the words. "But this is no game at all. It's-"

"Well, it has to be." Thranduil interrupted him as he took a couple of steps back. "Because it doesn't make any sense at least..."

"At least what?" Legolas asked truly puzzled.

"A least you're inventing this to cover up something worse."

"Something worse? What could be worse that being in love with you?!" He responded without thinking, startling when the sound of his own words reached his ears.

He thought he had made his feelings clear enough before, but now he had actually put them into words. He had told his father he had fallen in love with him.
Legolas felt a strange mix of fear and boldness at the realization and the urgent need to see what his father's own reaction had been to those words. But when he looked up, the sight of the king's expression took away those feelings, leaving room to confusion. Thranduil was frowning, eyes a little wider than normal, mouth half open. Hurt, if he should describe what he saw with a single word. His father looked hurt.
Legolas quickly repeated his previous statement in his mind and realized his mistake.

"Oh, no." He rushed to say. "I didn't mean it like that, I- I meant... because you're my father, not because you're not- I mean, you're perfect, devoted and caring and loving." 'Exept when it comes to dwarves' He silently thought. "And- and your body is-"

"By the Valars, Legolas! Do stop talking, I can't hear another word!" Thranduil interrupted him and Legolas could swear he saw his cheeks blush as the tall figure turned around toward the balcony. "I can not believe this. I- I refuse to believe it!"

"No. I'm sorry, but I can't let you look the other way any longer." Legolas said, walking towards his father, encircling him to stand right in his line of vision. "I never meant for you to find out about this, but is killing me that you see me as a whore, as an animal in heat who can not control his instincts. If you are to hate me for the rest of eternity, let it be for something I actually am guilty of."

Thranduil's body visibly tensed, either by the words spoken or their renewed proximity, Legolas didn't know, but his father took a deep breath and turned his head towards the door, as if trying to make sure it remained closed, before his eyes rested upon him once more and he answered.

"And what is this... thing, you proclaim yourself guilty of, Legolas? being- being in love with me?" And a small forced laugh escaped his mouth. "Please, you're being ridiculous." The Elvenking said as he turned around again, walking to the center of the room and all of a sudden deciding to sit in the end of the large bed, crossing one leg over the other with his usual elegance.

It became so clear to Legolas then, that his father was trying, and a little too hard actually, to act casual, as if they were discussing any random matter with no major repercution in their lives.

"You love me." He continued. "I know that." 'And I love you too.' Thranduil almost said but decided against it, as he was still mad at his son. "But loving someone and being in love with someone are two diferent things, Legolas."

"You think I don't know that?" Legolas said, raising his voice without meaning to as indignation settled in the pit of his stomach. "You think I can't tell the difference?"

"Well you clearly can't, as I very much doubt you want to do with your own father what people who are in love does." Thranduil finished with a triumphant smile, confident he had managed to embarrass his son enough as to make him drop his crazy ideas.

But Legolas had never been further from doing so, than now.

"You want to know whether I want it or not?" He said, as he reached the end of the bed where the King sat in three long strides, closed the distance between their bodies and capturing his father's face with both hands, crashed their lips together.

The movement had been so abrupt, so rushed and brusque that it should have been painful. But it wasn't. His father's lips felt so soft and tender against his own, and the startled sound that had came from Thranduil's throat had sounded so much like a moan, that Legolas' whole body was becoming dizzy with pleasure. The Elvenking, on the contrary, was frozen in place, his mind failing him to process what was happening. His limbs were rigid and though his eyes were wide open in astonishment, they seemed unable to focus. But then something started to move against his mouth. Lips, started to move. His son's lips, he thought, and his body finally reacted as realization hit him. Legolas was kissing him.
He caught the young elf's wrist in an iron grip and tried to push him away but his son's hold on his face only became tighter. Besides, at some point, Legolas had drove one knee over the matress and was now practically straddling him. He needed to act fast and put an end to this madness. So he pushed him away again, harder this time, finally breaking the kiss but only to have his reckless child letting himself fall to his side on the bed, taking him along with him by surprise. Now, he found himself atop of a very flushed Legolas sprawled in the silky bed covers, breath coming out fast and uneven against his face, his slender chest rising and falling with difficulty due to his own weight above it. It was quite a sight, he thought, cursing himself immediately afterwards. This was wrong.

"Legolas, have you lost your mind?" Thranduil said as he tried to incorporate, confusion and anger mixing together dangerously inside him.

"Maybe. Probably. " Legolas responded between ragged breaths, fear clearly written all over his face.

But there was also something more, Thranduil thought. Something apart from fear written in his son's face. No, more like written all over his body, he concluded and felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He needed to get away from there.

"You are confused, that's all. Now, let go." He said in a low but firm voice, trying to hold his anger at bay, but when Legolas didn't attempt to move, his patience ran out. "Legolas." He tried again, now in a warning tone. "I told you to let go. Less you're planning in jeopardize what little relationship remains between us over some ridiculous..."

"Feeling?" The young elf finished for him. "Is love ridiculous to you? Because that's what I feel for you. If you didn't heard me the first two times, I'm in-"

"What you are is confused, like I said. That and nothing else." His father interrupted him as reassuming his efforts to break free from the iron fists, now clenched on his robe.

"That's not true, not true at all. You said I wouldn't really want this, but I think I made it pretty clear that I do."

"Why? Because you- because you kissed me? Please." Thranduil said, trying to sound amused, yet his trembling voice revealed nothing but nervousness as he pushed himself up in his arms to put some distance between their bodies. "In the first place, that can hardly be called a kiss and, in the second place, well... a small kiss you may like but I seriously doubt you would enjoy doing any- anything beyond that with me."

And there it was, again. Another oportunity he should be thanking his father for, only this time he wouldn't let it go to waste. No, he would make sure there be no room left for doubts once he's finished proving his point.
So he let go of the King's robes and with his mind set on his next move, said:

"You know? You're probably right." As he drove his hands slowly to his own tunic and started to working it open suggestively, pleased at the way his father seemed to have petrified in place as his eyes followed the movement. "Maybe I'll hate it. Maybe I'll feel disgusted, or even sick, when we're done with it."

"Legolas... e- enough." Thranduil meant it to sound threatening but his voice lacked his normal self confidence and the tone resembled nothing but a plea.

"Or maybe we both enjoyed it too much and that's what scares you." Legolas continued, ignoring the warning, his own voice nothing but a whisper brushing his father's flushed face with every word spoken. "So lets do something more and I'll tell you whether I liked it or not afterwards." He finished and his hips rose from the matress to grind against the King's lower half, his throbbing erection finding some relief at the regained pressure, although not nearly enough to be fully satisfied.

"Aahh..." He thought he heard Thranduil moan, as the rosy lips so close to his own, parted and the translucid eyes closed tightly at the sudden contact of their bodies. However, the sound hadn't come from the Elvenking but from his own throat.
'How foolish of me.' Legolas reproached himself when he realized that fact. Of course his father would never enjoy his touch. At least not in the same way he was enjoying it. But then again, why did it look like he did? Unless... 'Oh father, how very likely of you to put your morals before your flesh truly desires.'
But Legolas was having none of that. No when this right now was probably the last chance he would get with the King. So he sank his hips back into the mattress only to thrust them up again, more urgently this time, gaining a strangled gasp from his father.

The almost violent movement had sent a shot of pleasure through Thranduil's body but it had also set an alarm in his dizzy mind.
What was he doing? What was he letting Legolas do to him? 'This has come to far.' He decided.

"I said it's enough!' The Elvenking practicly shouted as he placed a hand in the middle of his son's chest, trying put some distance between them and then pushed himself up and off the bed. But he had been too careless. He completely forgot about Legolas' injury and in his rush to get away from him, put too much presure too close to the wound.

The young elf screamed in pure pain, throwing his head back, into the bed, as the world went black for an instant.

'Legolas!' He could hear his father call immediately, voice full of concern.

"I'm- I'm fine." He lied, as he quickly tried to raise into a sitting position, doing his best to hide the agony he was in, for he had much bigger problems than his physical condition right now.
He had to apologize to his father. He had been impulsive, irrational and completely selfish. 'Oh ada, I-'

"I'm sorry." Came a soft, almost trembling voice and for a second Legolas thought it had been his own, but no. This time, the voice did came out of the King's mouth.

"What?" He asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"That I... I shouldn't have..." Thranduil stammered, his mind battling between helping his son get up or run away from him. "I- I hurt you and I'm sorry." He finished, not sure himself if he were refering to Legolas' wound or his feelings, or even to what he had just done or what he was about to do, for he had made up his mind and was already walking backwards, towards the doors.

Legolas saw this and started to panic.

"No, wait! I'm the one who's sorry. I- I don't know why I did that. I shouldn't have. Please!" He said, tears threatening to scape his eyes any second as he tried to stand up. "I beg you. Please, don't- don't go."

The sight was breaking the King's heart, but what could he do? Stay and do what? Grant Legolas what he asked of him? No, his son was in need of something that was not a father's place to give.

"I can't stay, Legolas." He firmly said, but his tone wasn't coming as convincing as he intended to. "I'll go get Tauriel to take a look at the wound."
And Thranduil had already turn around and reached the doors when Legolas managed to catch up with him, throwing himself towards the taller figure to lock his arms in tight embrace.

The King froze, for about the third time in the last hour, the moment he felt the sudden presure against his back.
Fisical demostrations of affection were uncommon between elves, but that had never been the case with his son and him. At least no when Legolas had still been an elfling that is. In his childhood, the young prince would run into his father's arms at every chance he got. Looking for refuge when he got scared, or comfort whenever he felt sad, or just out of happiness and excitement. Any excuse would do.
They had been so close back then. Thranduil had even come to believe they to be one soul split into two bodies, for when he looked into his son's eyes he could see right through them and found everything he was missing. The inocence, the tenderness, the warmness... Legolas was sort of like a version of himself but somehow everything he wasn't. His son's arms around him had felt so right at that time. So why did they felt so wrong now?
Well... probably because Legolas was no longer that innocent elfling of his memories, Thranduil thought. No. He had grown and changed so much in the process he could no longer recognize him anymore.

He was starting to pull out from the embrace, when his son's voice stopped him.

"Pleace." Legolas said about to break into tears. "I'm not- I can't take back what I said because I meant every word." He sigh heavily. "I am in love with you."

"Legolas..." He interrupted him. He couldn't let him go further. Deep down he knew their relationship was probably already beyond repair but still, he wasn't ready to admit that just yet.
However, as his mind was still trying to come up with the harmless way to turn his son's advances down, Legolas went on.

"But no matter what I feel I shouldn't- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you like that." He paused for a moment and when his voice came out again it sounded broken. "You must think I'm disgusting-"

"Never!" He said, disentangling himself from his son's arms, turning around quickly to face him. "Legolas, I would never think of you in such a way, you heard me?"

But Thranduil knew it would be imposible for him not to, for their faces were only a few inches apart and within seconds, Legolas' heart was racing, his body reacting once more to their proximity and his forgotten erection coming back to life to press against his thigh through the thin material of his robe.
He could tell it was taking the prince all of his strength not to just jump at him right there and then and that was his signal to draw back.

"Look, I just... can't have this conversation. Not right now, not with you- like this." Thranduil said looking down between their bodies trying to make obvious to his son that he was conscious of his state, thinking maybe shame would... calm him down.

"Oh Valar, I- I'm so sorry. I swear I don't meant to- to- to react like this." He babbled, his face turning a deep shade of red from embarrassment but, apart from that, nothing changed. In fact, his father's comment only seemed to had made his predicament even worse.

'Right! He's thrill, somehow, by things like... shame or humiliation. You're such a fool Thranduil! 'The Elvenking cursed himself inwardly, his own cheeks turning red as he started to walk away once again.
"Listen, I truly think we need Tauriel to take a look at your wound right now." It was a lame excuse, he knew it, but he really didn't know what to do with this new turn of events. All he knew was that they would need their heads clear to figure it out, wich was hardly his or Legolas' case at the moment. So no, this was not a good time for them to discuss things or even share the same room.
"I'll go now, so I suggest you take care of... that." He continued, waving a hand towards his son's crotch without even looking at him, already standing by the door and opening it. "And please, do so before Tauriel arrives and I do mean before, not when she arrives, understood?" Thranduil finished, not missing Legolas' hurt expresion but leaving just the same without hesitation. It was for the best.


The next days passed uneventful. Thranduil had avoided Legolas at all cost, wich hadn't been hard at all since the young prince almost never emerged his room. Too weak to walk much yet, he slept (or so the King thought) most of the day and took only rare and short walks through the gardens, accompanied by Tauriel.
She notified Thranduil, daily, of his son's progress, but this hadn't been much and that fact kept him awake at night. He had no explanations as to why Legolas was not healing as he was supposed to. The wound wasn't getting worse but it wasn't getting any better either and, as the days went by, the prince did seemed to be losing strength, Tauriel had said. His body looked thinner and his skin grayer, she had informed him.
Thranduil was sick with concern and dying to go and see him, see his child. But Legolas was not a child anymore, he remembered. If he went to see him, his son would for sure demand some kind of response to the feelings he had so clearly expressed. And what was he supposed to do? Reject then? Return them? No, the last option wasn't even an option, so how come he was even considering it as such? He was losing his mind. Legolas should be feeling disgusted towards he, no the other way around.
At nights, when his son's well being took his sleep away, unwanted thoughts would crawl their way into the king's mind. Memories actually. Memories of the young elf's lips against his, of his quickening heartbeat, of his body, firmly pressed against his own, of his... No! He shouldn't be thinking any of that. Thranduil reproached himself. Weeks had passed by now and he was no closer to figure it out how to handle the situation, but he knew he couldn't avoid his son for all eternity.
Besides, if Tauriel was right, he didn't have all eternity to make up his mind. Last time they spoke, she said she had come to believe that the source of Legolas' illness wasn't the wound itself or anything physical for that matter, but something emotional. He ate and walked but his body was only getting weaker and weaker. No, the problem, she assured, must have started in his heart and that was the key to fix it.
Thranduil should have known from the beginning that this was all his fault. His son was dying, and he was the one killing him.


Legolas didn't know what was wrong with him. What had possessed him into telling his father the truth? And what was he expecting to accomplish by doing so anyway? Thranduil obviously wouldn't feel the same for him, how could he?
He was so ashamed he didn't think he would ever look his father in the eyes again. He would just have to accept the fact that their relationship, or what remained of it after Erebor's incident, was irrevocably over. He had been sure the Elvenking would never want to bear his disgraceful presence ever again and the lonely passing days did nothing to prove him wrong.
He should just die, Legolas thought. Why couldn't he just drop dead? Well, perhaps the Valars believed he didn't deserve an easy way out of the mess he, and only he, had made of his and his father's life. That must be it. The older elf hadn't deserved any of what he had brought upon him. He had been such a devoted father. Why would the Valars cursed him with a son so... corrupted as he?
Legolas questioned about this things in his prayers, for he knew he could not share this matter with no one else. Not even with Tauriel, for although he had come to consider her a close friend, he doubted his father would want anyone else to know about the true nature of his son. His sin had traced for him a lonely way, a shameful way, but he just couldn't find in him the strength to keep walking anymore.
He was so tired and yet not even the nights would grant him the peace of sleep. No, how could he sleep when his mind was going insane with thoughts of what it was and what would never be, what he should have done but didn't?
Now death didn't seemed such a terrible destiny anymore. To Legolas it had come to be more like an encouraging promise of rest.


But there is no rest for the wicked and Thranduil was the walking proof of that.
That terrible night, the night he had walked in his son being ravished by that awful creature, that disgusting little prince under the mountain, was about to become a sweet memory when compared with what was about to take place tonight.
Tonight the Elvenking had decided enough was enough. He couldn't keep prolonging his son's suffering any longer. He needed to put an end to it, to make things right and although he didn't knew how to accomplish that, he knew facing his son again would at least a start. So that's what he was determined to do as he walked down the quiet halls of Mirkwood towards the prince's chambers on the twilight of the day.

He knocked the door twice but as no response came back he let himself in. The room was empty.
Thranduil remembered then his son's regular walks through the gardens in the company of Tauriel and the increasing beating of his heart eased. However, it didn't take long for it to race once more as his eyes took in the place. The balcony, the bed... in his mind, the events of the day Legolas had confessed his love for him in that very same room, replayed.
Legolas. He had said he loved him, no... more than that. He had said he was in love with him, Thranduil remembered.
He walked towards the bed and without even thinking, he let himself fall on it. In there, he could feel closer to his son than he had felt in the past month or so.
The young prince's smell lingered on the sheets, the mattress still conserved some of his heat and it was- 'Wait, what?' The King thought freezing.'The mattress is still warm? That cam only mean that either Legolas had just left his chambers for his walk, wich seemed highly unlikely due to the time, or that he had never left at all.
Just as his mind came up with that conclusion, Thranduil heard the room's private bathroom door slowly opening.

He was on his feets quicker than a lightning bolt, completely embarrassed at the possibility of being found... enjoying? maybe a little too much, his son's bed, knowing that was exactly what this would look like, even though he wasn't about to admit it to be true. Still, he wanted to bury his head in sand just so he wouldn't have to look at said son in the eyes again but, as there was no sand in all Mirkwood, he made a run for to the second best option,actually his only option at the moment, Legolas' closet. He reached it in two long strides, opened the doors and hid inside.
It was such a childish attitude that made him regret not having stayed splayed on the bed instead. Not even that would have been as embarrassing as this. Hiding inside a closet like a child scared of the world outside. Well, he supposed there was some similarity there. He was, after at all, scared to face Legolas. He truly didn't wanted to hurt him but he couldn't give him what he asked of him either.
And what had his son asked really? Nothing but: 'lets do something more and I'll tell you whether I liked it or not afterwards.' Thranduil remembered, thinking about how those words could never be erased from his brain when, suddenly, his mind was wiped clean as his eyes took in the scene taking place in front of them.

Chapter Text

It had been entirely an accident, but when Thranduil ran into his son's closet that night to hide from him, sloppily entangling in the young prince's long robes in the hurry, the wooden doors hadn't completely closed behind him. Now, as he awkwardly turned around, through the small gap between them, he had a pretty good view of Legolas's movements through the room.

His son, oblivious to the foreign presence in his chambers, walked from his private bathroom towards the bed in nothing but a light silky white robe, loosely closed at his waist that appeared to be glued to his still damp body from the bath he had just took. Thranduil thought the outfit left little to imagination and he cursed as he reminded himself that he shouldn't be trying to imagine anything. But his son was, truly, beautiful.
It was just an appreciation. There was nothing wrong with a father marvelling about what a beautiful grownup his child had come to be, he told himself. But was that really what the feeling at the pit of his stomach was? Marvellness?


The bright silver moonlight seeping through the windows hadn't caught the Elvenking's attention before, why would it have? But in that moment, as it bathed Legolas' lean body and golden hair almost as if making his elegant figure glow in the pit black night, his attention could not possibly be anywhere else.


However, as gracious as he appeared to be right then in his father's eyes,every step the young prince took was heavier than the previous one. He had only taken a small walk that afternoon, and only because Tauriel had insisted him to do so, and he was already drained. If it were up the him, he wouldn't even left the bed at all. Maybe so, one day he could die from inanition. 'Oh, if only life were so merciful'. He thought and a sly smile drew on his tired face as he reached for the bed covers to take them out of the way.


Thranduil watched with wide open eyes as Legolas discarded then the silky robe covering his body and climbed into the mattress completely naked. His movements were careful, slow, as if he were in pain, which the King supposed he was.
His heart ached at seeing his child in such a state, so weak and hurted, but at the same time it was racing at seeing him so... exposed. So physically exposed that Thranduil suddenly had the feeling he could see right through his skin. His son had grown into a beautiful being in deed, he couldn't deny that. How his body was responding to the sight of it, on the other hand, that he would deny for as long as he could. Which would probably be longer if he could just tear his eyes away from him. But he couldn't.

He kept watching as Legolas laid his head against the pillows and tugged at the white sheets to cover himself, the warm summer night apparently not warm enough for his still wet body, Thranduil deducted. He kept watching and saw his son release a heavy sight into the quietness of the room and close his eyes. He kept watching as almost instantly he opened them again and pushed the covers away, exposing his nakedness once more.

'Maybe the night was warm enough after at all.' the Elvenking thought dumbly trying to chase the dizziness out of his brain, to compel his eyes to look away, his heart to pulsate at a normal speed again, his damn body to obey him, for Valar's sake!


Legolas just laid there, completely still for a few minutes. He was so tired but, somehow, every night would find him just like this one, sleepless, thoughts of his father rushing through his mind and traveling all the way to his body. He remembered his piercing eyes, trying so hard to cope with what was happening, his tender lips, frozen against his and yet so warm, so soft, the weight of his firm body on top of his own... The memories were too much for Legolas to take and try to remain calm.
It was ridiculous, he thought. He didn't wanted to find pleasure from thinking about his father again. He remembered his dreams about him before Erebor disaster. Dreams in which Thranduil would claim him, take him, passionately, roughly, on the leaves covered ground of the forest, all the while moaning nothing but his name, over and over.
Yes, he remembered those dreams vividly. But he also remembered how he had felt afterwards. Guilty, despreciable, having imaginated his father in such a disgraceful way. He never wanted to feel that way again and yet his body didn't seemed to care about that. Didn't seem to understand about guilt, only need and want.
Images of the Elvenking would find his way into his mind and the heat he so wanted to fight would surface his through his skin.


Most nights he would control his instincts, choosing to endure the pain of a need not taken care of than the ache of his heart if he did. Tonight, however, was not one of those nights.
Closing his eyes, imagining soft lips against his, crystal eyes looking down at him, golden almost white hair falling at both sides of his face and that strong firm body pressed hard against his, Legolas succumbed to his sinful desires. He was doomed.

Thranduil had find with remorse that after learning about his son's feeling towards him... or has it started before that? anyway, after some point around that time, even the most innocent of the young prince's actitudes seemed... indecent now. Like his son deciding to sleep as naked as the day he was born, for example.
The King had just begun to curse his corrupted mind when his son's hands, motionless over his bare belly until that moment, started to move.

One of them traveled a little up his torso, slowly, sensually, returning then to it's previous position only to go up again, his nails scraping their way through his skin this time. Legolas flinch a little when they grazed a niple.
In the meantime, his other hand directed southways. His fingers massaged the now tense muscles of his lower belly and then the inside of his thigh for what it felt like an eternity, until they finally wrapped around his member, making it twitch with anticipation.

Thranduil could only gape in blunt astonishment as his brain worked hard to assimilate what was happening and if his eyes were to open a little wider they would probably pop out of his skull.

'Look away, Thranduil. Look away!' His conscience screamed but his body seemed to have a mind of it's own.

Legolas was already half hard by then and it would be so easy for him to reach the edge if he could just let go, close his eyes, imagine his father and alaud pleasure to found him. But he refused to do that.
Why couldn't he think in someone else? Why did it have to be his father? The thought brought tears to his eyes but it also made the hand sliding around his member go faster, harder, tugging painfully at the almost dry skin.
He was so ashamed of himself. He felt betrayed by his own body and the images flowing through his mind now proved his brain was no his alay either. What was wrong with him?

The young elf started sobbing then and Thranduil's attention was suddenly redirected from his son's crotch to his face. Legolas was suffering but why? Why then in the middle of... that situation? The Elvenking's heart clenched in his chest at seeing the child like this. His child. In so much pain.


Legolas tossed his head back and closed his eyes tight, tears rolling in streams now. The hand on his member had picked up a peace as the other pinched at his neples in turns. He was already beyond any coherent thought and he couldn't fight them anymore. His impulses, his desires.
Now it was his father's hand pumping him hard. His other hand twisting his niples. His father's deep voice at his ear whispering: Legolas... making him moan in pure pleasure.

"A- Adaa..."

The entitle, reserved to only one in all creation, only to his one sweet child, coming out as nothing but wanton plea from said child's mouth, did things to the King's body that he dare not to admit out loud but could no longer pretend to deny.
A strangled moan threatened to leave Thranduil's lips but was muffled by his hand flying to cover his mouth just in time to prevent that to happen. What was wrong with him?! This was his son! How could his body react in such a way?! He should... he should...

He should but never would know the end of that thought, for Legolas' hand speed up. His member looked red and ready to burst at any second but the prince's attention seemed to be elsewhere, for the words coming out his mouth seemed less and less wanton and more and more pained as his free hand fought to wipe away the tears rolling down his face in streams.

"I'm s-sorry Ada..." Legolas sobed. "I'm so sorry..."

All air escaped from Thranduil's lunges in that instant and his heart ached like never before.


‘So it is me Legolas. I'm the one doing this to you.' The Elvenking thought remembering Tauriel's words, tears of his own rolling down his cheeks. 'I'm the one killing you Ion-nin.'

He was tempted then to leave his hideout. Just step out, stand right in front of his son and tell him everything would be alright, that everything was forgiven. But what would he achieve by doing so? He couldn't return his son's feeling, could he? So the only thing he would accomplish will be increase Legolas’ mortification, his shame, his guilt. No, he couldn't cause him any more pain that he already had. So he just stayed hidden and close his eyes tight, sobbing in silence as he prayed his son could at least find his release soon.

The rhythmic sounds of friction, of flesh sliding against now wet flesh, were disturbing but the broken sounds emanating from Legolas' lips were even worst. Just when Thranduil thought he couldn't take it any longer, the room went quiet.
Opening his eyes slowly, the Elvenking was almost prepared to see the white traces of his son's release all over the bare body, a morbid sort of curiosity taking momentary control over him. However, what lied there before him was nothing of the sort.


Legolas was completely inmovil but his member looked still hard and ready to burst. So why had he stopped? It didn't make sense to Thranduil, but then again, he didn't know the riddles his son's mind could go.

Legolas had heard a noise. A strange sound, something like a strangled sob, coming from the dark of his room. But it was impossible, right? It had to be just his mind playing tricks on him, he told himself but had already went completely still nevertheless, the idea of someone watching him infecting his mind.

'What if it were you Ada? What if you could see me right now? Would you hate me even more?' The thought brought a new set of tears to his eyes but it wasn't enough to make his painful erection go away. It was enough though for him to stop caring, for him to even welcome the pain coming from his lower regions.

Thranduil didn't know how much time it passed until Legolas finally stopped crying and sleep found him but it had felt like centuries, maybe even more. But it happened. Eventually Legolas was peaceful at last.
The Elvenking waited a little more after that to leave his hideout, just to be sure. His brain still fought to process what he had witnessed when his sore and stiff body started moving towards the bed.
Legolas' peaceful sleeping form was a sight to behold. Thranduil truly wished the young prince could look just as at easy when he was awake. Awake and around him. He really wished he knew how to make him feel this peaceful, this good. But then, maybe he did know.


His body moved towards the bed even before his brain consented the action. Carefully, trying not to awake his son, he seated at the edge of the mattress besides the sleeping figure and extended his hand towards his child’s face. An innocent enough gesture, or so he told himself. But then his hand was traveling down, tracing Legolas' chest, grazing a niple and going even lower.
The prince's body shivered at the stimulation and he awoke with a startle, startling Thranduil as well.

'What am I doin?' The King thought but his hesitation never reached his steady hand still going southway.

The first thing Legolas consciously registered was his father's face, looking down on him with an unreadable expression. The second, was his touch. The touch that had awakened him in the first place and was starting to activate every nerve of his body.

"A- Ada?" He said with disbelief when he located the source of the touch, his father's hand, now tracing his hipbones and lower abdomen. 'This can not be. I'm- dreaming, I'm sure b-but-'

"You were crying Legolas." Thranduil whispered, the deep and broken sound of his voice surprising them both. The nails now grazing the young prince's thighs making him stumble with words.

"T-this isn't... a- hnnn... a dream?"

"You made your own father felt like this." The Elvenking said with certain anger in his voice but most of all full of lust as he grabbed one of Legolas' hands with his own and placed it over his crotch. "So I suppose it's a nightmare."

Chapter Text

"You were crying Legolas." Thranduil whispered, the deep and broken sound of his voice surprising them both. The nails now grazing the young prince's thighs making him stumble with words.

"T-this isn't... a- hnnn... a dream?"

"You made your own father felt like this." The Elvenking said with certain anger in his voice but most of all full of lust as he grabbed one of Legolas' hands with his own and placed it over his crotch. "So I suppose it's a nightmare."

. . .

"Oh Valar..." Legolas moaned as he felt the bulge there, his fingers instinctively wrapping around the hard member through the fabric of his father's tunic.

"Nnnhh Legolas..." It was surreal. Thranduil could almost feel his blood flowing down to his lower regions, increasing his need at the time it made him sick, bile rising up from the pit of his stomach. What was he thinking? No... he wasn't thinking at all. His body had took over his actions now and his mind wasn't even trying to fight it anymore. He was doomed.

His hand wrapped around his son's member at his own volition and the young prince went hard for the second time that night only this time, the Elvenking told himself, this time he would reach release. He would guide his child to it himself.
So he started working his hand up and down the hard member, occasionally grazing the tip with his thumb. He had never pleased another male body that it wasn't his own but if the said like father like son had any truth in it, Legolas would love it, and judging by the sounds the he was making, he did.

The young prince had stop trying to comprehend what was happening. All he knew was that it wasn't a dream, this time it was real. His father itself, in the flesh, was right there with him, touching him, touching his own flesh, trying to pleasuring him. Somehow for some inexplicable reason, that was happening and he was just too grateful to the Valars as to question their will.

So he started thrusting his hips up, meeting his father's hand halfway in an increasing peace. His body was already shivering from the pleasure but he needed more. He needed to feel the object of his love everywhere, to feel their skins connect in more points than the two they were touching right then.
Not giving it a second thought, he pulled his father by the tunic towards him.
The movement took Thranduil by surprise but he didn't resisted it. He laid on the bed on top of his son, supporting part of his weigh in one arm as he kept stroking him with his free hand, now almost trapped between their bodies.

Legolas was beautiful indeed, he had always thought so, but now, under this new light, he felt as if he was admiring his beauty for the first time.
He noticed the light blue lines crossing his slender neck under the white almost transparent skin. His eyelids, longer than he had ever saw them in the close distance. And his eyes... almost pitch black when they were trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. It was a sight to behold, the Elvenking though, but those lips, parted, a little wet with saliva and realising that raged breath... they were asking to be taken.

Thranduil member throbbed imagining how they would feel like and the stimulation his child's hand kept providing wasn't helping the matter.
Abandoning any tiny little bit of self control it may still be left on his body, Thranduil leaned forward and close the distance between their lips.

Now it was the young prince's turn to be taken by surprise. His father was kissing him, 'kissing!' his mind screamed, and his lips were soft and skilled and just perfect. However, he could still feel certain hesitance in the way they moved over his. He knew then he would need to show Thranduil that there was nothing wrong with letting it go and hold nothing back, nothing wrong with claiming what was already his.

Legolas parted his lips and his tongue seeked entrance on the Elvenking's mouth. He could almost feel the doubt, the fear, but at the end his father responded his request. Thranduil opened his mouth, allowing his son's tongue to enter. For a second Legolas forgot how to breath, how to move. The were only kissing and exploring eachothers bodies but it was so intimate, so passionate that, for the moment, that was enough.

The young prince's movements became erratic, frantic, as he thrusted into his father's fisted hand and his tongue battled with the Elvenking's for dominance. He had first intended to let his father control the kiss but he couldn't stop himself. He had wanted this for so long and it was about time Thranduil knew how much. How much he had yearned for his touch, for his love.
Legolas would have wished to never reach release if that meant that moment could last for ever, but he did. Every muscle of his body tensed and he moaned as he spilled his seed on his father's hand.

The warm fluid dripping through his fingers seemed to break the trance he was in. What had he done? He was not supposed to encourage his son's fantasies. Yet he had and the proof was now slipping through his fingers, literally. He had to get out of there but he needed his brain to take control of his body again for that to happen.
By the time the Elvenking compelled his limbs to move, he noticed Legolas' body had completely relaxed but, from the expression on his face, he could tell his son was in distress.

"I should go." Thranduil said in a rush as he raised from the bed. This had been a mistake and probably now Legolas thought so too.

"No! Please." Came his son's pleading voice as he sat on the bed, ready to go after his father if he took another step. "Your... need is still not sated." He said in an apologetic tone.

At some point, he had stopped his ministrations on his father's body, too concentrated on the pleasure his own body was experiencing, but he couldn't leave things like that.

"Ada, let me... let me try to please you." He pleaded as he grasped his father's arm and compelled him to turn around and face him once more. "I- I want to make you feel the way you make me feel. Please..."

"Legolas." The Elvenking said in what he meant a menacing warning tone. But the young prince could hear the insecurity, the doubt on it and it only served to make him bolder.

"Please." He repeated as he pulled Thranduil towards the bed, softly but firmly, making him sit on the mattress besides him.

He had wanted to go slow, as to not scare his father off, but having him there, on his bed, rosen cheeks, parted red lips and a not so discreet erection under his tunic, was more than he could take.
Not being able to hold back any longer, Legolas crushed their lips together. Instantly, his father opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to meet, to battle in a wet, demanding kiss.
The prince's hands then finded their way through the Elvenking's clothes and came in contact with his skin. He caresed his chest and grazed his neeples on his way down. How he would love to pinch them, to make them hard and sore under his touch, but at the present time he had another goal.
Thranduil was already panting but when his son's hand wrapped around his member, no fabric between, he became a moaning mess. His child was skilled. He moved his hand up and down at the right speed, his firm grip on his too sensitive flesh, providing the right amount of pressure. At that peace, he wasn't sure how much he would last.
As if reading his thoughts, Legolas said:

"It's fine if you let go father, if you spill your seed on my hand, the Valars know I would take it on my mouth if I had your permission."

"Legolas... n-no..." Thranduil said, his head seeking hide on the space between the prince's shoulder and neck. He felt so embarrassed. How could his son suggest such dirty and sinfully things keeping a straight face?

The wound on Legolas' shoulder hurted a little due to the pressure added on it, but he just smiled at seeing his father's imposing figure seeking refuge on him, or more likely, from him but still. He was making him come undone.

"Let go Ada..." He said increasing the speed of his hand and tightening his hold.

"Nnngghh... Legolas!" Thranduil moaned as he felt his release coming.

He spilled his seed on his son's hand and all over his own stomach, his fluids coming out in streams as Legolas keep pumping him until he was over.

Once the wave of pleasure slowly succeeded Thranduil's brain become functional again.

"What I have I done?" He said, too deep on regret to noticed that he had pronounced the words out loud.

Legolas had been expecting something like this to happen since the very start, so he already knew what to say to give his father some consolation.

"What you've done is made your son happy." The young prince answered as he reached on his nightstand for a handkerchief. "I know it's wrong Ada but..."

"Do you, Legolas?" Thranduil interrupted him, suddenly feeling angry.


"Do you know this is wrong?"

"I do! But I... I-"

"You what? You don't care? You don't care that you have doomed us?!" The Elvenking practically yelled on his son's face before getting up from the bed in a rush, too angered now to simply sit there.

"Fine, you're right Ada, I don't care!" Legolas said raising his voice as well.

"I told you not to call me that anymore!"

"What? Ada?” He said defiant. "I'm sorry, but that's what you are, you are my father!"

"Then why?! Why if you feel so, if you... if you love me like a father, go an do this?!"

"Because I also love you like a lover!" Legolas answered, tears forming on his eyes, his whole body trembling from the impotence he felt.

"Nonsense!" Came Thranduil's bitter tone as he intended to strode towards the doors but came to a halt as Legolas stepped in front of him.

"I love you... Thranduil. Is that nonsense to you?"

The Elvenking's heart skipped a bit at hearing his son calling him by his name. It made him feel like he was being addressed by somebody else rather than by his own child.

Legolas used his father's momentary laps on his favor and moved closer to the tall figure, stepping on his personal space, bringing their faces inches apart.

"Does it feel wrong when we touch?" He questioned in a soft voice, almost a whisper, as he slowly traced his father's chest with his hands. "Does it feel wrong when we kiss?" And with that he planted a chaste kiss on the Elvenking's lips.

At first, he thought he would be pushed away, slammed against the nearest wall even, but that never happened. Instead, Thranduil responded the kiss. The King parted his lips, his tongue seeking entrance on his son's mouth, which Legolas gladly conceded.

It was the definition of madness, Thranduil realized. He was being contradictory but he didn't care, for there was a very important truth in what Legolas had said. He was, indeed, making his son happy and that's what would cure his illness. It did felt wrong when they touched, when they kissed, pleasurable, but deep inside his soul, very wrong nevertheless. However, revealing this to the young and fragile elf would only make his condition worse. No, Thranduil would please him until he regained his health and then he would deal with the consequences of his acts.

So he deepened the kiss and trapped Legolas with both arms, pressing him against his body. He could feel his member coming back to life and could tell his son was in a similar condition by the bulge he felt against his thigh. They were panting and rutting against each other's bodies when, suddenly, someone knocked on the door.

"Damn... who could that be?" Thranduil said between wet kisses.

"Doesn't matter, probably no one important."

"How- how do you know?"

"Because the only one important to me is right here." The young prince said stopping to look up at his father, contemplating him. "You are truly beautiful Ada- s-sorry... Thranduil." He corrected and for the first time in quite some time, Thranduil smiled.

"I'm not a damsel, Legolas."

"Sorry, you're right." Legolas responded suddenly embarrassed.

"Handsome, would be a more appropriate expression." His father said with amusement.

They were about to kiss once more when the knocking on the door repeated.

"I'll see who that is. It must be important to bother a prince in recovery of his wounds at this time at night."

"You- are pro- probably right." Legolas said out of breath.

When the night had begun not even the Valars would have been able to predict this is how it was going to end. Finally, after so long, Legolas felt happy.

Chapter Text

The knock on Legolas' door that night was, as a matter of fact, important. Thranduil couldn't have anticipated it then but the news the guard had come to deliver would change everything. His and his son's destiny, their entire race's destiny, the Middle Earth's destiny. One way or a another, for some sooner, for others latter, but it would.

When he opened the door that night, his heart was still beating at an abnormal speed but almost stopped altogether when he heard the words: "Smaug has been seen".
Thranduil knew about the serpents of the north, he knew about the fire they brought, the destruction. He also knew that it was gold what they were after, so they shouldn't be his target, however that didn't meant that on the eyes of the dragon they weren't in the way.
So on the following days he duplicate the number of guards on the border and ordered his army to be prepared. But then he waited. There was no reason for elven blood to be spilled unnecessarily.

It was like the calm before the storm. He couldn't sleep at night nor concentrate on his duties as King at day. There was only one thing capable of taking his mind from such matters. Legolas. A storm himself. An hurricane, Thranduil would say.
After that night, the doomed night as he would call it, his son's health had improved. Considerably, as it turned out Tauriel had been right.
Legolas's illness may had started with the wound made by that poisoned arrow, but had lasted, and even gotten worst, because his heart wouldn't let him heal, because he didn't wanted to heal. But now he did, finally.

Now the young prince was eating, gaining some weight, walking and no only because Tauriel asked him to but because he actually wanted. He even smiled and laughed. More than once provoked by his father. Yes, Thranduil had had enough of watching his son slowly fading and understood now that it was not the time to discuss morals. Legolas wanted him in the wrong way, in an unnatural way, but he giving into that way was making his son heal, and that was all that matter. They would have time, the whole eternity even, to make the young elf see some sense.
For now he just needed to do two things. First, keep the bad news at minimum, so telling his son about the a certain death threat at the claws of a dragon of the north was probably not a good idea. Second, keep him happy. And there laid his problem.

The day after that night, Thranduil had wanted to bury his head in sand and never show his face to his son again. He had even considered stepping in front of Smaug with a coffer of gold in hand and mock him. Surely a death by fire couldn't be worse that having to confront your own son after a night like the one they shared.

To list every boundaries he had crossed, he had spied his child in what was meant to be a private moment. Then, he had touched him in the most inappropriate way in which a father could touch his own son and then, as if that wasn't enough, he had let his son return the favor.
He felt so disgusted with himself he made himself feel sick. How could he have done that? And more important, how was he supposed to do it again?
If he was honest with himself, which he rather not, Legolas' touch, having his slim body under his, his mouth exploring his own, his hands wrapped around... well, there, it didn't bother him as much as it should. More than that, his body seemed to love it even. And that was disturbing. He was sick, he was sure of it now. Nevertheless, that seemed to be exactly what Legolas needed of him now so that was what he would give him. How much worse could it get? He found out that 'much worst' was the answer to his question, on the days that followed that night.

The first time they saw each other after the doomed night, they were both so nervous. Neither of them wanting to talk about what had transpired. They talked about Legolas wound, about the food Tauriel had leave there for him, about the weather... anyway, anything to try to keep the conversation flowing. But then the silence finally came. And it was deafening.

Legolas had been sitting on the spacious bed with his back against the headpost. Thranduil had been also sitting on the bed but at a good distance from him. It was awkward but at least they had managed to remain on the same room without either of them walking away angry like they have been doing on their past encounters. So it was progress, or so Thranduil thought.
In fact, he was so deep in his thoughts that he missed Legolas moving fast, closing the distance between their bodies and planting a kiss on his lips.
He gasped in surprise and the young prince took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, invading his father's mouth with his tongue. But Thranduil recovered fast and pushed the wet muscle out with his own. Now their tongues were battling once more, fighting for dominance. At the end, the Elvenking took over the control but as soon as he did he broke the kiss.

"Legolas..." He said out of breath.

"I- I'm sorry." Legolas rushed to say in a similar condition.

"Are you? Really?"

"Am I what?"

"Sorry, Legolas. Do keep your focus child." Thranduil said laughing.

"I can't." The young prince answered smiling. "It's really hard with you... there."

"Would you rather have me some place else?"

Legolas' cheeks turned red then, telling Thranduil he shouldn't have asked.
His son grabbed one of his arms and pulled him with him when he let himself fall in the bed. Thranduil let himself be guided by him, accommodating in the space between Legolas' legs when he spreaded them for him.
In this position, they kissed again, kissed for a while. Neither of them daring to move much at first. But then the kisses became more passionate, more wild and less tender and definitely not enough. Legolas' hips rose from the mattress, giving a tentative thrust upwards and Thranduil couldn't help to respond. He thrusted down, bringing their clothed erections to contact.

"Ahh... Th- Thranduil..." Moaned Legolas in pure pleasure, almost lost in the moment but conscious enough to remember not to call him Ada and ruin the moment.

Being addressed by his son in such manner, hearing his name being called on such a wanton way by his child, had an effect on him he couldn't quite describe. But it did things to his body he could no longer deny.
The Elvenking was impossibly hard, his hips thrusting into his son's crotch with force now, his tongue, tracing wet patterns on the young elf's neck. And Legolas was no better.
The Elvenprince's legs were now wrapped around his father's waist. It had been a little difficult to accomplish with so many fabric between them, but he had managed to open his tunic somewhere between their kisses. However, when he had tried to give his father's tunic the same treatment, his hand had been slapped away by the King. He was taking things too far too fast, Legolas knew it. So, at least for now, he was happy with the way they were now.

"Nngh... please." He begged. "I- I need"

"What is it that you need, Legolas?" The Elvenking whispered in his son's ear, taking his time to lick at his earlobe after.

"Aaahhh... I need t- to..."

"To reach release? To spill yourself all over my fine tunic again?" Thranduil said with a little chuckle making Legolas smile as well.

"Y-yes! That's exactly what I want."

"As you wish, my prince."

With that, the Elvenking wrapped one of his hands around his son's hard member, supporting his weight with the other, and started pumping him. There was no tenderness on the movement, that wasn't what Legolas needed right then, just the fast sliding up and down of his fist over the heated flesh.

It didn't took long for Legolas to reach his climax, for, as a matter of fact, spill his seed all over Thranduil's hand and tunic.
But he hadn't forgotten his father's pleasure this time. He had wrapped his own hand around the Elvenking's covered hard member and pumped it through the fabric. A couple more of fast and hard pulls now and Thranduil was spilling his own seed under his fine tunic.

This time, once they were both sated, there was no rushing out, no running away what so ever. They laid together on bed, Legolas finding his father's chest to be the best of pillows, both enjoying the company of the other, the closeness. Thranduil had really missed that all that time.

His son had been slipping through his fingers like water ever since their first fights about Legolas avoiding him and bedding the first thing that walked i front of him a couple of moons ago. But not anymore. Now his child was his once more and all it took was for him to condemn his soul at agreeing to do unfatherly things with him. So, sure it was a high price to pay, he thought, but the reward was worth paying for.
Now his son had finally let him into his life again, into his every thought, every feeling. Legolas was holding nothing back. He told him everything, no matter what that thing was, he shared it with his father. Thranduil was happy with that.
So much, he now awaited with enthusiasm for their little meetings. So much, he could almost forget the imminent danger coming from the north. Almost.

But the day he feared came. Smaug had destroyed the City of the Lake almost to their grounds on his way to Erebor. The dwarves had been slaughtered. A few had survived but not many. The word had spread that their King was dead, and a creature, too repulsive to give it much thought, was after his bloodline. It was a matter of time, he thought.

Thranduil had left the safety of his kingdom, accompanied for a great part of his army, and marched to the mountain. He had lied to Legolas about the reason for his trip, told him he had an audience with one of the Kings of men, Gondor's King, and that he would be back in one week. Of course, he didn’t truly knew if he would ever be back, he could only hope, but what he couldn’t do was not to know: Would the dwarves' gold be enough for Smaug? Would the dragon stop there? Or would his kingdom be next? He needed to be prepared, so he needed to know this things.

Leaving Legolas had been quite a challenge for him, but he knew he was leaving him in capable hands. Tauriel had proved his worth more than once so when he left he did it knowing that his son would be fine in his absence. Of course the young prince had asked him to stay, but after a session of passionate kisses and a promise for more like those at his return, he had accepted his departure.

Now he found himself on his destination, with the sight of the death in front of him, remembering his son's gentle touch, soft lips, warm skin, wishing to be there with him and not here.

The dwarves had fought with all they had, that much he must granted them, but they were dead now. Almost an entire race, vanished from the face of the Middle Earth. It was regrettable, but nevertheless, not his problem.
Those were his words when in the middle of so much death and destruction he found him, the dwarve prince, and the desperate figure let his pride aside and ask him for help. Not for himself but for his kin.

"I warned your grandfather this would happen." Thranduil said not even bothering to get off from his horse. "He should have listen and your kin wouldn’t have perished. Now I must think in the safety of mine. This is not my problem, no elven blood would be spilled fighting a battle that it is not ours."

And with that he left. Leaving Thorin and what was left of the dwarves, at the dragon's mercy. Smaug seemed content enough with their gold, at least for now that would placate his greed.

Yes, they would be safe from the serpent for the moment, but he had gained an enemy, one that would never forget what he had been denied off.
He would see Thorin again and sooner rather than latter.

Chapter Text

The last rays of sun were disappearing over the horizon when the Elvenking and his army returned. The journey, Thranduil knew, hadn't really been that long. It only lasted a couple of weeks but it was enough to make him miss the comfort of his quarters, the soft spring of his shower, the warmth under his bed covers. Well, not his own warmth if he was honest. No, it was Legolas' warmth what he missed.
The thought made him feel sick to his stomach but he craved for his son's touch. For his tender lips parting to grant access to his tongue, for his body trembling and writhing with pleasure under his own, for his hands touching every inch of his skin like they owned it.

When they arrived, all Thranduil wanted was to stomp into the prince's chambers and show him that he owned him too. However, it was late and he still needed a bath, so he decided against it. It was wrong though, the King realized, that that were the only thing stopping him from going into his child's bedroom and do things to him he shouldn't be wanting to do in the first place. But his body and mind were at war, and the latter was losing.

Legolas, on his part, didn't have such problem. He had long ago learned that it wasn't a matter of body or mind but of heart altogether. He didn't just wanted his father in the way he did because he founded him the most beautiful being in all the Middle Earth. He wanted him because he was in love with him, with all that he was and wanted him in every way that it was possible to want someone.

That blessed night, as Legolas called it, the night he had woke up to his father's tender caresses, with nothing but the dim silver moonlight that entered through the curtains to let him recognize it was him the one hovering over his bed, over him, in the middle of the dark, he thought he was dreaming. At least for a second that is. Because the moment that skilled hand came into contact with his body a second time, his sensed aroused and he knew it then. He knew it was real.
His father was truly there, in the flesh, giving his own flesh a treatment reserved only to lovers. It was possibly the happiest moment of his life, Legolas knew. And many more like it followed it.

Day after day his father would return to his chambers, to him, make a small talk at first and then succumb to what they both so obviously wanted. It was hard though, the elven prince realized, for Thranduil to admit his own feelings. He could sense his resistance to them, how he struggled to get his body's impulses under control and it was painful for Legolas to see how badly his father wanted not to want what he wanted. But he knew his Ada and it wouldn't be him if his morals and his sense of right and wrong wouldn't be at the top of his mind every time he touched his son in a unfatherly way. No, this was exactly what he had expected of Thranduil and he loved him just as he was, because he was as he was.
So Legolas had decided to wait. To give the Elvenking time to make pieces with the new turn their... relationship was taking.
This was, nevertheless, easier said than done.

When Tauriel entered his rooms in the middle of the night, the young prince feared the worst. Maybe something had gone wrong in the journey, maybe some creature had attacked them and something had happened to his father... this tragical line of thought was interrupted, however, when his friend smiled at him and simply said:

"He has arrived, my prince."

Legolas couldn't prevent a smile of his own to draw on his face at hearing those words. His father was safe and sound and back in their home. He had to see him and show him exactly how badly he had missed.


Thranduil has just entered his white marble bathtub, water warm and bubbling with various salts already soothing his aching muscles, when he heard the sound of footstep approaching his private bathroom. He didn't need to look up to know who they belonged too. He had know the exact sound of that walk for centuries it seemed.

"Legolas..." He said in a soft voice. "Who informed you-?"

"Tauriel." The elven prince responded in a equally soft tone but full of happiness and eagerness. "Why? You didn't wanted me informed of your return?"

"I would prefered you well rested, not woken up in the middle of the night simply because-"

"You returned?." Legolas interrupted him approaching the bathtub slowly. "I'm glad."

Thranduil followed his movement, innocent enough if anyone else were to witness that moment, but not for him. There was nothing innocent in the way his son's eyes kept skimming his body from his chest all the way down to his bended legs rising from the water at the knees.

"I'm glad too, Legolas." The Elvenking answered wishing his voice wouldn't quiver like it did under the scrutiny.

"May I join you my King?" Legolas whispered sitting in the marmol edge, already undoing the laces of his silky tunic.

"You- you clearly will not take no for an answer." Thranduil stammered as his son's equally silky skin came into view.

"Clearly." Was all Legolas said before leaning down and capturing his father's lips with his.

The Elvenking suppressed a moan at the warmth and eagerness of the tongue suddenly invading his mouth. He had missed this so much and yet he couldn’t allow himself to show it.
Legolas, on his end, had not such problem. Expressing his want loud and clear, he moaned into the kiss, making the older elf shudder with passion.

At the end, it was Thranduil himself who removed the young elf's tunic the rest of the way and almost without even breaking the kiss, guided his son into the tub once he was naked as the day he was born. Happily, Legolas introduced one leg and then the other, one at each side of his father's thighs, straddling the older elf.

The position was new for them and the implications of it seemed to be sinking just then in Thranduil's brain, for once the elven prince was settled on top of him, the Elvenking went completely still, his eyes widening in fear.
Legolas could feel his father's hard member pressing against his entrance and wished nothing more than to take the hot flesh and hold it in place to impale himself on it. He couldn't, however, jeopardize all the progress they had made by rushing Thranduil into something he wasn't ready for.

"Hush now my King." The prince said in a shooting tone, noticing his father's breathing getting heavier by the second. "We don't have to do anything tonight."

"Legolas I... I-" Thranduil started but found his voice lost when his son started nibbling his right earlobe.

The feeling was pleasurable beyond any pleasure the King may had ever experienced. His son's ministrations on his most sensitive spots from the waist up, added to the bucking of his young hips giving the perfect amount of friction to his most sensitive part from the waist down, was pure bliss.
Thranduil could feel that distinctively feeling building up inside him that announced him he was getting close. But he was being selfish,letting Legolas give him pleasure with no retribution for his actions whatsoever. As if the young prince... his son, were nothing but his mistress. It was undignified for him.

So the Elvenking captured the young lips before him in a passionate kiss, all the way guiding one hand towards the hips undulating against his, leading it further back, towards the rounded cheeks where his fingers kneaded the soft skin there. He could tell it droved Legolas crazy with pleasure but he didn't stop there. No, the King put his other hand at use and wrapped his fingers around his son's hard member.

"Aahh... Ada.." Legolas moaned momentary forgetting hi father's usually distress at being call that way in moments such as this one.

Thranduil, however, was equally lost in the passion of their actions and paid no mind to the familiar word.
His son was trusting his hips up, slighting his member in his tight grip, now tighter than before, and slamming his backside against Thranduil's own member every time his hips went down only to raise again and repeat the movement. The rhythm and friction it provided was exquisite and the Elvenking couldn't help to trust his own hips up meeting his son halfway everytime he went down.
It was maddening and it didn't take long for both to reach their climax against the other's body, the traces of his sinful passion quickly disappearing on the shared water. It will, nevertheless, remain forever imprinted on their minds.


"I can't go further than this." Thranduil said with a heavy heart, immediately gaining his son's full attention.

The young prince, that until that moment had been laying pressed against his father's side on the King's spacious bed, raced his head to look at him with concern.

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, not being sure he would like to know the answer and judging by the distress he now saw on his father's face, he wouldn't.

"I can't- do what you expect me to do Legolas. I can't."

"What do you think I'm expecting you to do? I don't understand."

"Please..." Thranduil said with a snort, finally meeting his son's eyes. "You know what."

After a moment like they just had, only one thing came to the prince's mind, but that couldn't be it, could it?

"I- I'm not sure I know really." Legolas said after a moment.

"No? Don't lie to me Legolas."

"I'm not! I have really no idea what-"

"What that dwarf did to you!" Resonated the Elvenking's furious voice through the dark chamber.

Why did he have to remember that now? And why did the images of that repulsive creature ravishing his child on the stone floor seemed to be carved on his brain? He was so angry he couldn't even stand to look at his son in that moment.
He was starting to rose from the bed when Legolas' hand on his arm stopped him.

"I'm sorry." The young prince said full of remorse. "I wish I could change what I did but I can't. I wish I didn't feel this... disgusted with myself all the time but... I suppose I deserve it."

"There is no reason for such thing Legolas!" Thranduil quickly reply as he sat on the bed.

"You don't even call me son anymore."

"I am a King, I have to honor my word and I said I wouldn't call you... that."

"Right.” Legolas said starting to get mad for his father's coldness. "Well... it doesn't really matter, whether you acknowledge it or not i'm still your son, we still share blood-"

"Really Legolas?!" Thranduil cut him short him with a furious growl as he rose from the bed, the need to put some distance between his son and himself more insistent now. "This is hardly the proper time to talk about blood. After...what we've done."

"You can't even say it can you? What we do?" Asked the prince rising from the bed as well, not bothering to cover his naked body as his father was quickly, even sloppily doing facing away from him. "Can you even look at me father?"

Long moments passed before the Elvenking gathered enough resolve to turn around and look at his son's face.

"Don't be foolish, Legolas. Of course I can." He said voice trembling at seeing the tears falling from downcasted eyes as his son reached for his tunic, dressing himself with something Thranduil could only describe as shame.

"Not like before, you don't."

"I don't know what else you want from me? I've done all I could think of, and even more than I ever thought possible to-"

"Why?" Came Legolas' soft pained voice. "Why would you do such a... sacrifice?" He said accentuating every silabate of the word that, now he understood, clarified what this was for his father all along. A sacrifice.

"Why? You must even ask?!" Thranduil growled. "You were fading Legolas! I was losing you and if giving you what you wanted could save you so help me Valar I was giving you anything!"

"But you didn't wanted... this. Any of this."

A tentative question could be readed in the prince's affirmation and so the Elvenking answered.

"No, I did not." Deep down he knew it was a lie. He couldn't deny it any longer, not to himself at least. But he could still try to make Legolas see how wrong this was and maybe, just maybe his son could move past this and have a normal life in the future. One that didn't involve a icestous relatioship with his father.

The sorrow and pain in Legolas' face, however, made that future seem far far away.

"I'm sorry." The young prince said looking down, a shaky hand coming to his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. "For putting you through this..."

"Legolas-" Thranduil tried but he knew his son wasn't listening anymore.

"I'm fine now, I've healed and so you don't need to- to do this for me anymore."

With that, just as fast as he had entered his father's chambers that night, he left.


Legolas couldn't had known then, but that short moment, on his father's embrace on the bathtub, would be his last moment of happiness in the next centuries.

Chapter Text

He had been a fool. Of course his father would never feel that way towards him. It had all been a sacrifice for Thranduil. One made only to save his life because he was convinced his illness came from the heart rather than from the nasty wound on his shoulder left there by a poisoned arrow.
It was ridiculous. However, he couldn't deny that for some unknown reason, his father's strategy had worked. His life was no longer in danger.
Nevertheless, he still felt like his heart would stop beating at any moment.
It hurted. So much. To know that it had never been real. It had never been reciprocal.
All those time his father had moaned his pleasure when they kissed, when they touched, the times he spilled his seed in his hands, against his heated body, had he been... deceiving him? Maybe even thinking in someone else to compel his body to react in such ways?

'Probably in mother.' The elven prince thought and his heart sunk even more.

He felt disgusted with himself but also with Thranduil. His father shouldn't have done that. There was no excuse good enough for force himself to accept his son's advances let alone to pretend he enjoyed them.
Days passed and just as pain had become disgust, disgust was now becoming anger. Legolas feared the day that feeling turned into hate but he could see it happening already.
If his father didn't feel the same towards him, that was fine, but making him believe he was loved in the same way, desired in the same way, without that being truth, it was cruel. And with every passing day, his resentment towards him was becoming a heavier weight for the young prince to carry.

That was what had lead him to where he was now, the forest. He founded peace in the sound of the wind through the breaches and leaves, of the water flowing through the rocs, in the sight of the moving clouds when he laid down on the ground and watch them from above. It was his way to escape the kingdom, to escape from his father.
Since that last night on his father's chambers, Thranduil had done nothing more than to try to earn his forgiveness with gentle gestures. But the fact that the Elvenking clearly avoided to be alone with him, had not escaped Legolas' notice. And it hurted him.

The situation brought him memories of the last time he had been so angry towards his father as he was now. It happened on Erebor, the day they arrived. Their fight had lead him to wander the depths of the mountain alone, which lead him to run into Thorin, which ended with them engaging in disgraceful activities. Disgraceful yes, but no for that unpleasant.

'Thorin.' The elven prince thought closing his eyes, remembering the feeling of dwarf’s hands on his body, of his mouth caresing and biting his skin.

Legolas didn't exactly understood why, but such memories, memories of pleasure as pleasure itself, had the power of, somehow, take the pain away. It was a way out of his own head, a way to stop thinking about his father, to stop, if even for a moment, the suffering.
The elven prince was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't heard the footsteps coming. It wasn't until he felt the cold steel of a sword that he realized he wasn't alone.

"You're being careless once again, prince of Mirkwood." The figure standing above him said and Legolas didn't need to open his eyes to know it was him.

"Thorin..." Came the young prince’s soft voice.

Something in his tone must have spoke volumes of his pain, for as soon as he pronounced his name, the dwarf lowered to his knees besides him.

"What are you doing out here in times like this, Legolas?" Thorin said helping the prince into a sitting position.

"Times like this? What do you mean? It is you who shouldn't be here." He warned him looking at his surroundings. "If my father saw you he would-"

"He would do nothing. He's good at that."


"He didn't tell you, did he? Well, it doesn't surprise me."

"Tell me what, Thorin? You're speaking in riddles."

"Not here, anyone could see us, or hear us." The dwarf said lowering his voice in a way that made Legolas heart beat faster.

It was ridiculous, he thought as they walked through the forest to a hidden place he knew well. He didn't felt for the dwarf prince what he felt for his father, and yet for some reason, his body reacted to his presence all the same.
When they reached their destiny, a secret cavern behind a waterfall, the same waterfall in which Legolas had spied his father bath that day and in which he had been shooted with that poisoned arrow, both princes dropped their guards.

Thorin pulled Legolas down from his garments and smashed his mouth into a fierce kiss. The elven prince waste no time and parted his lips allowing the dwarf's insistent tongue into his mouth. It was madness, to continue such acts when his heart was placed somewhere else, but still, his body was asking him to take what little pleasure was being offered. Besides, Thorin's hands weren't wasting any time neither.

"Nnngh... Thorin..." Legolas moaned breaking the kiss when the dwarf fondled his crotch. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I have no recollection of having said such thing." Came Thorin's reply as he opened the young elve's leggings. "I did, however, suggested we shouldn't be seen or heard."

When the cold breeze hit Legolas heated skin, the young prince hissed.

"Besides..." Continued the dwarf prince. "In times such like this, words have no meaning, it's our actions what matters."

"You keep saying times like this, but you have yet to explain what do you mean by that." Legolas said trying to concentrate in that matter instead of in the things Thorin's hand was doing to his expose member.

It turned out to be, not all that surprising, an impossible task. The dwarf's fingers were now wrapped around his hard flesh, moving up and down in a strong but not nearly strong enough, grip.

"Th-Thorin... please..." The elven prince moaned.

"I can tell you've been practicing. Now I can almost believe you know how you beg."

"I do, I- I promise. Now please..."

"Please what?" Said Thorin tightening his grip on Legolas member, fastening his strokes as well.

"Nnnghh, I need to... to..."

"To release your seed all over my hand? Maybe even hit my face with it as well?"

"Aaahh..." Yelped Legolas in pure pleasure at picturing in his head what the dwarf had just described. He knew, however, what intention laid behind those heated words and so he lowered to his knees.

"That's better." Came Thorin's rough voice. "Now put your hands at use." He commanded.

Obeying, the elven prince worked the dwarf's clothes open until he was completely bare. He noticed then several fresh scars that hadn't been there the first time he had seen Thorin naked.

"What happened?" Legolas asked with concern as he traced the nastier one of them across his chest. A wound clearly just recently closed that still held a furious red colour.

"It's nothing, Legolas."

"It's not nothing, you're injured."

"Was injured." Corrected him the dwarf prince. "I've healed, or at least my body has."

"You have to explain this to me." Legolas pleaded. It was obvious to him now that Thorin was purposely avoiding the subject but why? What had happened?

"Latter. I promise. Right now all I wish is to loose myself with you, can we do that?"

The young prince knew then, the reason why Thorin and him had gotten along almost as soon as they lied eyes on eachother. They were so similar. Both searching for an escape and both finding it on the other.

"Of course we can." He finally answered.

Thorin discarded the rest of the elf's clothes and pushed him down, to the wet stone. There was no tenderness on the movement, but there was no rush either. Just passionate, demanding need.

"Why is it that being both princes, borned in lives of luxuries and wealth, we always ended up doing this on cold stone floors?" Came Thorin's amused tone as he lowered himself on top of Legolas.

"Maybe it is precisely because we are both princes." The young elf replied smiling.

The dwarf smiled back as he spreaded Legolas' legs further and accommodated himself in between, the position bringing their members in contact.

"You meant to say we couldn't be doing this on your chambers or in mine?" Said Thorin as he started kissing and biting the young elf's chest, taking special time with his nipples.

"Nnghh... Well I- don't know about yours but in mine my father could hear us."

"So you're planning on being loud, Legolas?"

"Don't- blame me, it would be- your do- ing." Legolas reply already running out of breath.

"Oh I would love that. Would love to make you scream of pleasure as your Ada hears us." Thorin said with disdain. "Do you think he would accept to join us?"

Legolas tried to stop his brain from imagine how would that turn of events unfold but didn't tried hard enough. His low moan told the dwarve prince just how much he was enjoying that thought.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you could take me down your throat as you take your father right up... here." Thorin said as he roughly inserted a calloused finger inside Legolas' opening making him scream in pain.

"If you want me to take it out all you have to do is say it."

"Nn- no, Thorin... please..." Came the young elf's pained plea. "I need... more."

"As you wish then." Said Thorin offering a slight smile that never quite reached his eyes.

The dwarf knew Legolas enjoyed pain, and if he was honest with himself, he enjoyed inflicting it, but he had no wishes to permanently hurt him. There was no evil in this elf and if depended of him, he would rather see him happy that suffering.
Things were, however, what the were. And right then, he had a lover under him pleading for pain. And so pain he would give him.

Thorin pulled out his finger and roughly shoved two instead. Legolas yelped in agony at the dry intrusion and had no time to recover as a third finger joined the others.

"You are such a whore Legolas." Came the dwarf's low growl. "Spreading your legs for anyone to take you, anywhere, anytime."

"Aaahh Thorin."

"What would your father say if he saw you like this?"

"He already s- saw us like this, remember?" Legolas said between gasps as the dwarf's fingers started to move faster and rougher inside of him.

He knew Thorin must been deliberately avoiding to hit that spot that made him see stars, but the stimulation alone of his inner muscles were becoming enough to drive him crazy with pleasure. And besides, the dwarf prince's obscene words weren't helping the matter.

"Do you think he enjoyed it? Seeing us that time? Do you think it aroused him?"

"Nnn- no, it shamed him. I'm his shame." And with that statement tears begun to fill the young elf's eyes.

"Maybe what he's truly ashamed of is of desiring you in this way. Maybe he denies it but he gets hard thinking of you lying on your back, spreading your legs for him."

"Aaaahhh Thorin, please!"

"Hush now, Legolas, I can make you forget him." Said the dwarf as he took one of the elf's hands on his own and directed towards their joined members. "But I will request your help here."

Legolas looked down and quickly understanding what he was being asked to do, took hold of the hot flesh there.The angle was extrange and Thorin's member and his own almost didn't fit on his hand, but he wrapped his fingers around them as tightly as he could anyway and started stroking.
A low moan from the dwarf prince's lips told him he was doing a good job and so the young elve begun to move his hand faster.

"Nnngghh, you are a natural for this Legolas." Said Thorin as he rewarded him by reaching the most sensitive spot inside of him.

"Aaaaahhh..." Legolas screamed in pleasure as the dwarf assaulted his entrance with more ferocity now than ever before, fingers hitting his spot, nails grazing the delicate skin there in every occasion they got.

"Aaahh Th-Thorin...!" Came the only warn the dwarf prince would have before Legolas was releasing his seed between their bodies.

The stimulation along with the sight of the young prince writing above him was enough to make Thorin followed him.
A few minutes latter, the dwarf prince was still trying to catch his breath when he settled besides Legoas, resting his head under his folded arm as the elf himself was doing.

"Why didn't you do it?" The young prince asked in a soft, shy voice, barely audible through the strong sound of the falling water outside the cavern. "Why didn't you take me?"

Thorin considered his words a moment before he finally answered.

"Because you're not mine to take."

"Thorin, my father... he would never-"

"Maybe... but maybe someday he finally sees you on a different light." The dwarf said extending his right hand to arrange a stray lock of hair on Legolas' face. "One way or another, you're not, nor will you ever be mine to take. I shouldn't be your first."

Legolas saw Thorin's eyes then and found nothing but affection. How could someone of his features look so... tender, in that moment? He didn't know how but it was possible and he had missed so much to be seen in that way. No anger, no disappointment or shame, just pure... care.

"You would be a great father, Thorin." The young elf said before he even noticed he had opened his mouth.

"I doubt that." Came the dwarf's reply as he just smiled. "I have never seen myself as a father and, frankly, given my... preferences, is not too surprising I suppose."

"So no heir to the throne then? I can imagine your father being just as proud of you as mine is of me."

"He's dead Legolas." Thorin said and the young elf's blood ran cold.

"Wh- what did you say?"

"You're father really doesn't tells anything, does he? The whole Middle Earth could burn and you would never know."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand." Legolas asked sitting up when Thorin did the same, as he watched the features of the one before him change.

Where only moments before there was tenderness, now Legolas could see nothing but distress and bitterness. Thorin's face was full of this emotions when his answered gave sense to them.

"Smaug." He said looking at Legolas right in the eyes for even he, knowing so little of the real horrors of the outside world as he did, knew what that one name meant.

"No... it can not be, he is..."

"Was..." The dwarf prince corrected him. "He was on the mountains of the north. He is on Erebor now."

"Wait, on Erebor? You mean-?"

"That he's taken over the mountain. It was... a slaughter." Thorin said and now Legolas could see pure rage burning on his eyes.

"I- I didn't know about this Thorin I'm so so sorry. I could have- we could have-"

"Done nothing, Legolas. You could have done nothing because Thranduil wouldn't have alow it."

Only then did all the things the dwarf prince had say since he arrived that afternoon started to make sense. And it wasn't just Thorin's words but his father's actions as well. His uniasies and troubled face ever since that urgent matter a guard came to his chambers to inform that night about a month ago, his unexpected journey. How could he have been so blind?
Legolas was about to ask Thorin to explain to him how things had happened, when suddenly someone entered the cavern.

The intruder looked away the moment it took in the naked figures sitting on the wet stone ground, clearly embarrassed, but even without seeing her face Legolas would recognize that reddish hair anywhere.

"Tauriel!" He said as he tried to cover his pride with his hands. "What are you doing here?!"

As he looked around trying to locate where his clothes were, he saw Thorin quickly getting up and reaching for his sword. At the same time, Tauriel took his bow and arrow.

"Wait no!" Legolas yelled. "Thorin she' a friend!"

The dwave prince stood in place but tightened his grip on his weapon anyway.

"No friend would cover you on this before your father Legolas!" He yelled back.

"You don't know that! Tauriel please let me explain!"

"You may not have the time to do so, my prince, nor I the chance to cover you as this dwarf says." She replied lowering her bow. "Your father was riding right behind me, Legolas. He will be here at any moment."

At hearing those words Legolas froze. He revived the shame and despair he felt back on Erebor when Thranduil had founded him on a similar situation. But something felt different this time, the young elve realized. He was different. For some reason he didn't thought it mattered so much anymore.

"My prince... mi prince..." Tauriel was saying. "Legolas! You must hurry, please! I can buy you some time but-"

"No..." Legolas interrupted her. "I appreciate your intentions but that won't be necessary, Tauriel."

"What are you talking about Legolas?" Thorin said as he handled him his clothes.

Sometime between Tauriel's news and that moment, the dwarf had managed to put most of his own clothes on and was now trying to compel Legolas to do the same.

"No Thorin, it's fine, I don't fear him anymore." The stubborn elf protested as he fought against the other prince's hands that were now forcing him to stand up and trying to dress him. "He already hates me, what else could be worst?"

"That he killed you! That would be worst!" Thorin yelled at him, his rough voice resonating through the cavern even louder than the sound of the falling water.

Silence followed after that until a softer but equally strong voice said:

"Do you really believe I would do such thing? To my own son?"

Sometime during their argument Thranduil had stepped into the cavern. All the eyes were on him now but his were fixed on Thorin's.

"I always knew darves were unintelligent creatures but I never imagined they could be so to this extent." The Elvenking said.

To the others, Thranduil's face was unreadable, but Legolas could see right through that facade, could see his father's eyes and almost feel the rage burning behind them.

"No throne, no kingdom, no family..." Came the Elvenking's sardonic tone as he stepped closer to Thorin while taking hold of his sword. "... your entire race, erased from this earth. Allow me to put an end to an existence without meaning."

"Then put an end to mine." Legolas said stepping between him and Thorin.

His accion took his father by surprise but only he could read that in the King's apparently unperturbed face. A King, a father, who hadn't even look at him, until that moment.

"Step away Legolas. I'll deal with you latter." Thranduil whispered for only he to hear.

But the young elve wasn't about to feel intimidated right then and so he only stepped closer to his father, his nakedness finally penetrating the Elvenking's shield of coldness, making him look down and then away from him.

"Deal with me now."

"Legolas..." He heard Thorin say from behind and recognized the call for what it was, a plea for him to move away, to protect his own life. All the more reason to fight for his, the young elf's though.

"I will not stand here and watch you kill him."

"Then look away." Thranduil replied between gritted teeth as his eyes fixed on the dwarf prince once more.

"No, you've done enough of that for both of us." Legolas said with bitterness gaining his father's attention once more. "You let an entire race be slaughtered by that dragon."

"Their lives were not my responsibility, they were his and his father's and his grandfather's. I wasn't going to waste elven blood to-"

"Oh so it's a waste then? To fight for those who can't-"

"I am the King Legolas!" Thranduil said raising his voice to shut his son. "I decide what lives are or aren't worth to fight for with our own lives. I am responsible for our people."

The Elvenking then lowered the sword, which at some point between their argument he had raised and pointed towards Thorin, and stepped even closer to his son.

From the furthest corner of the cave, Tauriel observed the altercate and could see Legolas' exposed body almost imperceptibly start to tremble as the King approached him. In that moment, she wanted nothing but to protect her prince, her friend, but knew it was not her place to interfere.
Thorin, on the opposite side of the cavern, instead, knew that anything he tried in order to defend Legolas would only serve to unleash the wrath of Thranduil.

"Not all of us have the privilege of live our lives thinking in no one but ourselves, Legolas." Thranduil whispered in his son's ear, the proximity of their bodies making the young elf's heart start to raise. "You may be my only son but I have to be a father to our entire race."

Legolas looked his father in the eyes and knew that there was a chance to make him spare Thorin's life, and so, loud enough for the others to hear, he said:

"Kill Thorin, and that's all you'll have left... father. Other’s sons but your own to take care for."

At hearing those words, Thranduil's expression remained unreadable, at least to the other two presents in that cavern that was, but not to Legolas. No, he knew his father too well for that. He knew his face and body's every gesture, he had grown up looking at him, admiring him, and in the past year, falling in love with him. And where the others saw a half smile full of disdain, the young prince saw rage and pain, so much pain, combined.
He could tell he had hurt his father with his latest actions and words, but that could be a good sign, Legolas realized, a sign that his father still cared for him. And so there and then, instead of feeling as humiliated and embarrassed as he probably should, Legolas allowed himself to feel hopeful.

Chapter Text

If one could choose which memories to keep and which to let behind, he knew he would choose to forget all about that day. He wished he could remember instead the first time his father teached him how to use a sword, or how to ride, or his first experiences outside his grandfather's kingdom, but he didn't. He knew for what he had been told, that all those things happened sometime before his first decade of life, but he couldn't quite remember the events himself. So why, why had his mind, or heart, choose to hold on to that particularly memory? A memory that would guide him to a fate of nothing but bitterness and sorrow. Thorin didn't know the answer to that, but as he was escorted by four elven guards to the dungeons of Mirkwood, he couldn't help his thoughts to return to that day.

It had been the day of his 8th birthday. His father had decided it was time for him to start familiarizing with the people their kingdom constantly did business with, the Lake-men, and so he had took him to their town. It wasn't the first time Thorin visited the village, his father had taken him there in a few occasions but never to attend one of his meetings with the traders. For a young dwarf who had seen very little of the world beyond the walls of Erebor, the traders were the most interesting beings after the great eagles.

They traveled the Middle Earth trough and trough, explore exotic places and faced dangerous creatures in the quest to buy and sell all sorts of things. Traders saw and experienced all the things Thorin felt he was missing from the world outside the mountain. He was anxious to meet them, to hear their stories, and that day, on his 8th birthday, when he finally did, they didn't disappointed him.
After deals were closed and busines finished, they told him about their journey, about all the places they've seen, the hills, the seas, the forests, and the creatures they found in every region, the oliphants, the wargs, the rare enormous spiders that were starting to spread through Greenwood. Excitement and laughter filled those stories of adventure and courage but then one of the treaders mentioned something else and the laughs stopped. The giant spiders weren't the only thing the traders had found in the depths of Greenwood.

They also found another... creature. 'The most beautiful being their eyes had ever seen.' It's how they described him. An elf, a male elf, tall, slender, with white almost translucid skin and golden long hair. They said they first heard his cry, a heartbreaking sound in the twilight of the day. It came like a soul on grief mourning, so soft in his sadness it was enchanting. Through the trees into the middle of the woods they followed it and that was when they saw him. His face was hidden behind long strands of hair, his frame, covered by the silver fabric of his tunic, and yet his beauty was no less perceptible.
Some of the traders planted their eyes on his slim figure, his waist, his wrists, and for them the elf seemed delicate, almost fragile. Others, instead, setted them on his height, his broad shoulders, finding him imposing and strong. But all of them, without exception, agreed in one thing. The being seemed broken. More a spirit than a living creature. They observed him wandering the woods, without a destination, without a purpose, just walking like he didn't belonged to this world as he cried. Cried for the loss of his companion, his love. The traders didn't had the heart nor the courage to approach him. They told Thorin they assumed, due his location and description, that the elf was no other than the Elvenking, Thranduil, who had lost his wife a couple of hundred years ago, merely the blink of an eye in the life of an elf. However, none of them had ever seen the King in person, so they couldn't be sure.

It started as intrigue but it grew into an obsession for Thorin, to see with his own eyes such beautiful and enigmatic creature. From that day on, every chance he got to talk with the traders, he would fill them with questions about him. Had they see him again? Was he still wandering the woods like a soul in grief? Did he still cried for his love? Most of the times he got nothing as answer. It seemed to be that it was rare, or rather almost impossible, to walk in the Elvenking with his guard down or to spied on him and live to tell the story.
Soon, only rumors remained of him between traders and simple travelers. Rumors of a fleeting figure, a shadow, a spirit of the woods. Few believed those stories to be true and even fewer believed they were related to the great Elvenking. But Thorin kept believing and to him it didn't matter who this being was, he just wanted to see him himself.

Years passed and something dark begun to rise, to spread through the Middle Earth, something evil, and Greenwood was no exent of it. The once rare giant spiders grew in number, orcs ventured to the woods and had no mercy on whoever they may cross paths with, trees started to die and so did birds and small animals. It was as if a curse were propagating through the earth like a poison, killing or corrupting everything on it's way.
By Thorin's 25th birthday, there was no more Greenwood. Due to the now dark nature of the woods, another name had surged for it between men, dwarves and even elves themselves. Mirkwood.
The young dwarf had trouble imagining the beautiful being he had grown up thinking about, in a place like that, but eventually he succeed. Sometimes he imagined the elf's white delicate skin being scratched by the black dead branches of the trees as he walked through the woods. Other times, he imagined him lying on the cold ground where the rays of sun never touched the earth, his once golden strands of hair now stained with the dirt of putrefact leaves. It was disturbing, to picture this creature he thought so highly of, in such a degrading manner, but it also came to be... thrilling, for him. And it was strange, how an innocent fascination from his childhood had become a sinful obsession on his youth, but thinking about the elf now, usually made his lower regions burn with a want he did not know how to satisfy.

Like most dwarves, he had discovered his sexuality at an early age, but unlike most of them, no partner seemed to be enough to placate his need. He tried with females a few times before he realized he prefered males and once he did, almost any male would do for him, for it wasn't really their faces what he saw in the heat of passion, but the spirit of the wood's face. Well, at least how he imagined it, that is. But still, no one seemed good enough when it compared with his fantasies. In them he would claim the elf for himself, make him his right there, on the cold ground of the dying woods. He would mark the perfect skin of his tights with the force of thrust, leave a nasty bite wound on his neck for all to see so no other would dare to touch him.
Thorin felt perverse for having such thoughts, but he couldn't help them. Just as he couldn't help to seek release on his numerous partners and just as his father couldn't help his anger when he found out about it through rumors.

Thráin was as righteous and severe as any future king should be, and even though he could make an effort to accept his son's female companions, he most certainly could not approve his preference for the same gender. He was, after all, an heir of the throne and he was expected to continue his lineage. Thorin, however, had different plans. He wasn't interested in his future responsibilities, he wasn't even interested in his responsibilities at the present time, and so the matter became a reason for constant fighting between him and his father.
By the age of 30, he didn't believe the situation could get any worst. Until one day, it did.

His father walked in on him in the middle of one of his sexual encounters. The problem was that his parter at that moment wasn't just a male, but a man. In the dim light of the stable, his eyes saw Thráin's prone figure entering through the wooden door, bust his brain didn't seem to register that action. His hips were still compulsively trusting forwards, his member buried inside the man's entrance, when his father pulled him up by the neck in a fast and brutal movement.

"You are nothing but a disgrace to our family, to our kin!" Thrain yelled at him with fury. "It's bad enough to disrespect nature by bedding the same gender, but to disrespect our race by bedding a man... that is unforgivable."

So many words of anger and disapproval followed that statement, that Thorin just chose to stop listening. He felt so exposed, so unprepared and unprotected for such attack that not to listen was the only armor he had at hand. It still hurted him though, but not as much as it would have had he paid attention to the insults that spoken after those words.
By that time the man was long gone, probably scared to his bones by the future King under the mountain's outburst of rage, and he couldn't blame him really. Had he remained there his father would have most likely killed him, so yes, the young man was safer far away from them right then. Thorin just hoped he could find him again. His tall and slender figure, his blond hair and his blue eyes had been quite close to his mental version of the beautiful elf of the woods. His skin was a little more tanned that he had imagined for the elf from what he heard of the traders, but still, it had been too close to his fantasies as to let him go after only one time.
And it had been thrilling, too thrilling, to take him on the ground of the stable, with the rough straw scratching his almost delicate skin. The marks he could imprint on that skin...

A hard slap, or really more like a punch, to his cheek, brought him back from his temporary safety only to make him realize he was still very naked and erect in front of his father.
Thorin then turned different shades of red before he started struggling against Thráin's iron grip. He pleaded to be released, the first words he actually said since the interruption of his clandestine activities, and against all odds, his father let him go. It seemed that his initial rage had by then subsided, if the tired and disappointed expression of his face was something to go by. So Thorin wasted no time. He quickly put his clothes back on and left the stable, took one of the horses that were outside and just ride. He didn't knew where he was heading to, he had no home or warehouse outside the mountain, but he didn't cared. He just needed to put as much distance as possible from his father and him right then.
To spend the night in one of Lake town’s inn, wasn't an option. That would certainly be the first place where Thráin would look for him. So he just kept riding past the familiar town, following the lake and well deep into the Dark Forest. It was foolish, he knew, but if his only other choice was to head back home and confront his father, he would rather choose to die at the hands of an orc or eaten by a giant spider. That, however, was not meant to be his fate.
His horse grew tired, tired to the point where it could not walk any longer and Thorin knew he would be killing the animal if he forced it to do so. So he got off and noticing the sun almost about to disappear on the horizon, started to look for a place to spend the night.

He knew he wouldn't sleep, his troubled mind would let him even if he wanted to, but he needed the shelter to hide. Some of the darkest creatures of those woods hunted at night, their every sense ensuring no prey could escape to their knowing. If he wandered around all night he wouldn't stand a chance against them. So he was forced to abandon his horse, hoping the animal could take care of himself or that if he found death it could be a quick one, and then he look out for possible hideouts.
About a half an hour later, he spotted one, a hole in the ground almost completely covered by the breaches of a fallen tree that seemed just big enough for him to enter in a sitting, almost fetal position. It seemed uncomfortable but it would make a good enough shelter for the night, he told himself as he covered his head with the hood of his coat and entered the small hole.
Night was starting to fall when Thorin heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

'At least it isn't a spider.' He thought as he took hold of the dagger he always keep on his right boot.

The dwarf prince was as ready as ever to kill whatever creature intended to attack him but then, suddenly, he saw the owner of those light footsteps.
It was a tall, slender and prone figure, dressed in an elegant silver tunic, of the most white, almost translucid skin his eyes had ever seen. His long blond hair, fell beautifully to his waist, moving softly, gracefully, as the walked. It was no other than the elf of his fantasies, only his fantasies hadn't really done justice to his beauty. He was, by far, more perfect, more stunning and Thorin couldn't help to feel enchanted by him.
When the elf walked by neer the fallen tree, his heart skipped a beat, his whole body suddenly feeling too hot for the clothes he was wearing, or for wearing any clothes at all if he was honest. But when the tall figure came to a halt right in front of the hole where he was hiding, Thorin stopped breathing. Maybe it was a reflex, so he wouldn't be heard, or maybe he did it simply out of fear. One way or another, soon it became clear that he wasn't fooling anybody.

"It's a beautiful night." The elf said in a soft and yet so firm voice, as he look at the sky. "Why don't you leave your hideout and come enjoy it with me?"

He was being spoken to, his elf was speaking to him, inviting him to join him. Thorin had dreamed about that precise moment all his life. Over and over, he would imagine having an opportunity just like that and all the possible ways the night could go from there. Dozens, no, hundreds of outcomes and what did he do now that the chance finally presented itself? He just reminded silent. It was silly, he told himself. He needed to say something and fast. But it had to be something meaningful, important. And what could that be?

Thorin was so concerned with trying to figure out what would be the best thing to say, that he didn't noticed the many second of silence passing by until the elf spoke again.

"I see. You prefer to keep your distance and, I dare to say, even your identity... hidden from me." Came that perfect, hypnotizing voice as the figure moved closer to seat on the ground, only a couple of feets away from the dwarf with his back against the trunk of the fallen tree.

"In other circumstances, I would find that attitude annoying, unrespectful without doubt. But being this the Dark Forest and me a completely stranger to you, I found it wise."

Even with his dazed mind, Thorin recognize the elf's words for what they were, a compliment. A compliment he wanted to return and he was just gathering enough courage to do so when a second voice in the middle of the silence startled him.

"My King, is not my intention to disturb you, but we should be leaving." An elf, dressed much like a soldier or a guard, was saying. "Is not safe here anymore your majesty, especially not at night. The Forest is not what it used to be."

So it was true, what the traders had guessed so many years ago. The beautiful elf, the spirit of the forest, it was no other than the Elvenking, Thranduil. And that represented a complicated problem.

"Galion, dear friend..." The King said. "If you're so worried about my safety you should double the number of my escorts, for I would not change my habits just because some disgustings creatures decided to make of my forest, their play ground."

"I understand, my Lord, I would see to that and-" The guard was saying when suddenly he came to a halt.

This caught Thorin's attention but he couldn't look up right then to see what had happened without risking the elf noticing the movement of his head. There was, however, no more point in hiding. The guard had already see him and was now reaching for his sword.

"My King, step away from that tree! There's a creature there!" He yelled.

Thorin, who had quickly reached for his own weapon at the same time, was ready to leave his hideout and fight, whatever his chances for winning were, when the Elvenking's penetrating voice resonated through the woods.

"Galion!" He said, as far as Thorin could see, without moving a muscle. "How foolish and oblivious do you think me to be? Of course there is a... creature, as you call it, hiding in here."

"It could be dangerous, please-" The guard pleaded but otherwise reminded still.

"I don't believe so, old friend. I think it is a child... he must be a human child. As simply and harmless as that." Thranduil said softening his tone once more as he tried to look at Thorin, to see the face below the hood, which the dwarf desperately tried to prevent by lowering his head.

It couldn't be possible, he thought. That his elf, the one being he had spend his life fantasizing about, thought he was a child. 'A child?!' His mind was screaming as he sunked even more in his sitting position on the hole.

"And now you scared him, Galion. I hope you feel proud." He heard the King say but there was no true anger in his words.

"My lord, it could be a dwarf." The guard responded and Thorin's blood ran cold.

He had heard stories about the Elvenking and his hate towards his kin since his childhood. And about the reasons why that was, he only knew that something very boring had happened a really long time ago between some very very old elves and his, of course all deceased, ancestors. Well, at least that's how his young mind had registered his grandfather's stories about the subject.
So fine, he thought back then, the Elvenking Thranduil hated dwarves, but that did necessarily concerned him, since he had no plans to cross paths with him. After at all, there was no certainty that his elf, the one he dreamed about meeting, was in fact said Elvenking. That had just been the guess of a drunken trader, nothing more.

Now he found himself cursing that drunken cleaver trader for being right all along.
Thorin was trying to figure out what his next course of action should be, considering that if Thranduil were to found out his true nature he would for certain want to kill him,when once again, the words the Elvenking spoke lifted his heavy heart.

"He's not a dwarf." He said. "Those creatures may lack our intelligence but none of them is foolish enough as to come to this lands, my lands, expecting to keep their heads attached to the shoulders. Besides, no dwarf has came this far on the last hundreds of years, they wouldn't start doing so now. Not when all they care about in their short lives is right there in their beloved mountain. Gold and gems, they don't have eyes for anything else."

Thorin couldn't help to feel offended by the spiteful insults pronounced against his kin, and yet at the same time, glad that Thranduil's low opinion of them were working on his favor for the present time.

"He most be the lost child of one of those men, those... traders." The Elvenking continued. "They are the only ones who still travel across this lands this days."

"And to think they would bring a child to this woods." The other elf replied and Thorin could swear it was scepticism what he heard on his voice. "Nevertheless, my King, please lets return to the palace."

A few seconds of silence passed by before Thranduil spoke again.

"No, Galion." He said with determination. "I wish to see the stars all through the night and then the sunrise after that. I will remind here and so will you, watching out for us."

At hearing those words, the dwarf prince's heart filled with warm.

'Us', he repeated on his mind.

He couldn't be sure but it sounded like the Elvenking meant to tell his guardian to watched over him as well. As if he were genuinely worried about his safety. His elf, protecting him by staying besides him. The thought made Thorin smile, as a happiness he had never felt before invaded his heart, his soul.

They didn't hold hands that night, they didn't kiss or touch, they didn't even exchanged words. The things lovers would do when alone in the dark, weren't meant for them and Thorin was surprised to realize he didn't care.
As Thranduil just sat there, with his back against the trunk of the tree and his delicate long legs bended to one side, the young dwarf managed to contemplate the profile of his face, the shape of his nose, his pointed ears and his long silver hair. If not by touch, his eyes would have to remember enough of this perfect creature, this majestic elf. And remember they did.

The image of the Elvenking that night accompanied him every day of his life. Even after he returned home to ask his father's forgiveness, even after all the horrors he saw in the war to protect said home and even now, in this foreign kingdom, as he was conducted to the dungeons in chains, that image still burned in the back of his eyes whenever he close them.

When he stepped into his cell, an underground dark room illuminated only by a few torches on the walls, his old love was there, his obsession, his elf. Only it wasn’t just that anymore.
Now, Thranduil was also the one who let his kin be slaughtered by that dragon, the one who hated the dwarves so much as to not even feel sorry about it. He was also the father of the young elf who had came to mean so much for him. But most of all, Thranduil was probably the only other being in the Middle Earth, who loathed him as much as he loathed himself. And yet, somehow, when Thorin saw him there, standing on the light of the dim fire, he just saw the elf of the woods from that day so many years ago, the one who remied by his side all through the night.

Chapter Text

"You wanted to talk, I assume, so talk." Thorin said looking at his captor straight in the eyes.

Long moments had passed since the Elvenking entered his cell in the dungeons and his prone immovable figure standing on a corner along with the hatred look his eyes carried, were beginning to weigh on the prince. He was tired but knew he would do well in not let his guard down around Thranduil. He was there with a purpose, Thorin could tell that much.

"So I see..." The Elvenking finally said. "... that even in chains you're arrogant dwarf."

"What... this?" He replied faking amusement as he made and act of presenting the silver chain binding his wrists together. "This is nothing. I could break them easily."

"They're made of the most strong steel in-"

"I never said I would do so by force."

"Oh, I see." Came Thranduil's deep voice as he stepped closer to the dwarf. "You think you can talk your way out of this dungeons."

"Isn't that the reason why you're here, elf?" Thorin said in a challenging tone. "You want me out of here just as much as I want to be out."

"But that could easily be arranged. See? All I have to do is kill you and-"

"And loose your son's affection for ever." The dwarf prince interrupted him gaining an infuriated glance from the Elvenking.

"Don't flatter yourself dwarf." Thranduil said trying to gain some control over his emotions. "All my son sees in you is an easy way to warm his bed, nothing more."

"Well, that only shows how little you know him, Thranduil." The dwarf prince replied in an amused tone. "Or else you'd knew your son prefers the floor." He finished, knowing that would only fuel the other's wrath.

And as expected, Thorin didn't even had time to close his mouth after saying that last word, before the Elvenking was right in front of him with a dagger pressed against his throat.

"Don't ever again speak of my son in such manner, dwarf." Thranduil growled low.

His tone, the prince knew, was meant to be threatening, menacing, yet all it did was make his heart beat faster with thrill, not fear. The Elvenking was close, too close, and that was all it took to make his body burn with want.

"I guess you elves don't have a sense of humor after all. I shall remember that next time." He said trying to keep Thranduil's attention on the conversation rather than on the signs his treacherous body was giving. In the meantime, however, a scaping plan was taking form in his mind and it very much involved said body.

"Make a joke about Legolas again and there will not be a next time." The Elvenking replied with a sardonic tone.

"Very well then, let's get serious and back to the start. You want me out of here."

"Believe me, I would rather see you dead than free but... being things what they are-"

"You mean given the fact that your son cares for me and would never forgive you if you were to kill me?" Thorin said with half a smile testing the elf's patience.

"I mean given the fact that you somehow managed to deceive him and turn him against me." The Elvenking answered through gritted teeth.

"All the more reason to let me live then."

"What do you mean?" He asked putting the dagger away.

It lasted only a second, nothing more, but for a moment Thorin could see on Thranduil's face the traces of something very much like hope and he knew it then, that his moment had come. This was his chance, his only chance and his life was at stake, but if he did this right he would be leaving Mirkwood not only as a free dwarf but also as a very satisfied one. In his mind this was the least he could do to punish the elf for what he have done to him and his kin. It was only right.

"Thranduil, no matter how much you despise me, you know I'm more good to you alive than dead." The former prince under the mountain begun saying. "So my proposition is this, grant me one simple, small request and I swear to you I shall never again lay a foot in your lands or a hand on your son, and far more important, nor will he ever want me to."

At hearing Thorin's offer Thranduil's jaw almost fell open. Could it be possible? That the dwarf were to be out of their lives, out of his son's heart? The deal was tempting, without doubt, but he wasn't about to let his excitement show on his face.

Two could play this little game, he thought, and the dwarf prince small request will cost him much, of that he was sure.

"I don't think so." Came his reply. "You are not in conditions to make demands of any kind in this situation. It would be easier to kill you, and believe me, far more pleasant as well."

"I'm sure it would please you, yes. But how would Legolas feel about it? Or is it that you're truly not taking his feeling into consideration anymore?" Thorin said faking calm as if they weren't just discussing the matter of his life.

"Are those your beliefs or his words?" Thranduil asked with an aching heart. Could it be? That that's what his son believed, that he didn't care about him?

"If you need to ask me then it doesn't matter whether he told me that or is an opinion of mine, it's the truth nevertheless. You don't understand what he's feeling."

"Understand?" The Elvenking said with disdain. "No, you're right dwarf, I don't understand such... feelings. But care? Oh I can assure I do care."

"It's not enough."

"How would you know what's enough? What even gives you a voice in this matters? You understand nothing of-"

"Of Legolas?" Said Thorin interrupting him.

"Of being a father!" Resonated Thranduil's voice through the dungeons.

Several moments passed before another word were spoken after that, both kings too exhorted in his own thoughts to speak.
At the end it was Thorin who broke the silence.

"Grant me this wish, Thranduil, and you will have your son back." He said looking at the Elvenking with determination. "Accept this deal and I assure you Legolas would turn to you for comfort, for love. He would be yours as he once was. This I promise you."

At hearing the dwarf's words the Elvenking allowed himself to have hope, to believe he and his son could become close once again even if it meant to return to their illicit activities, still, that would be better than to remain strangers as they were now.
But could it really be as simple as closing a deal?

"You speak of Legolas as if he were a thing you can trade." Thranduil said, doubting Thorin could really accomplish what he was promising. "He's not."

"One's heart is very much a thing, Thranduil." The dwarf prince replied. "You place it here or you place it there but it can't be in two places at the same time, not unless you split it. Legolas' heart is not longer yours, not entirely at least, but... accept this deal and you can have my half."

"Hnn, is that so?" Said Thranduil taking another step towards Thorin. "And how much does half my child's heart values to you? I mean, besides your freedom of course, what would it cost me?"

"Only a few minutes of your eternal life and... lets say half your pride, but you have plenty of that so it shouldn't be a problem." Came the other's response, completely unexpected and somewhat intriguing, the Elvenking thought.

Legolas was worth his time, his pride, his every breath, there was no doubt of it. But could the dwarf really do it? Could he really make Legolas go back to his side? And more importantly, would he do it?

"I want your word, dwarf." He said, knowing it meant little but still needing some kind of insurance.

"From one king to another..." Resonated Thorin's words through the dungeons as if he meant to imprint them on the stone. "Your son would be yours and never again will he wish to see my face, you have my word." He finished in a low voice, knowing this part should only be heard by Thranduil and no other soul.

Just a promise, spoked only between them and with no witnesses to even prove it happened. But it would have to be enough, Thranduil thought.

"Well... what do I have to do?" He asked fearing what could come.

This time, Thorin's voice came out different. Low, and yet somehow louder than any other sound he had ever heard.

"Kneel." The dwarf prince said.

So humiliation would be, he thought with anger. It wasn't at all surprising but that didn't make it any more easy to accep.

"I should have known it would be something like this." Thranduil replied almost immediately, trying to hide how much the mere idea upset him. "You have one wish and one alone and this is what you wish for."

"Oh, you have no idea what this is yet." Came Thorin's answer through half a smile.

"Of course I do. Before Smaug you were a prince, a future king. But now that there's no throne to take, what are you? Nothing." Thranduil spoke letting the anger control his tongue. "You are nothing, Thorin, and you blame me for that. So yes, I know what this is."

"Congratulations then." The dwarf prince said with sarcasm. "Now, does that matter? does it change our deal?"

'It doesn't.' Thranduil thought with resignation.

It wouldn't cost him half his pride, as Thorin promised, but all of it. He was a king, by the Valars. An Elvenking no less. And he would have to bow to a dwarf? It was barbaric. But if this was the only way to break the bond between his son and this creature...

"I'll do it." He said approaching the dwarf prince a little with heavy steps. "But it's pathetic, that you need this."

"You don’t know what I need." Thorin replied but the words went unheard by the elf.

Thranduil's shame was blocking his senses. His ears, his sight, even his touch. It was as if he were watching this happen to someone else. As if he weren't there himself. As if he weren't about to kneel to someone for the first time in his long life.

"It doesn't mean anything." He meant to tell himself but said out loud instead.

Thorin realized what was happening in the other's head for the way his eyes seemed lost. They weren't looking at him with fury and disdain anymore but neither were they looking something or someplace else.

'It's still fine.' He thought. 'Better than fine, really.'

Thranduil lowered on both knees in front of Thorin and the pain was overwhelming. He felt as if he had just kneeled on fire for it burned him, and it burned him from where his legs touched the stone all the way to his chest. The sensation however, brought his senses back to life just in time to see the dwarf prince working open his belt and hear him say:

"Open up your mouth..." In a low, lustful, voice.

"Wha- what is the meaning of this?!" He stammered in confusion as he got up to his feets in a clumsy movement.

Thorin was clearly on the way of exposing his member but, luckily, stopped as soon as he got up from the ground.

"Did I say you just had to kneel, Thranduil?" The prince said raising his voice. "I didn't. So do as I say or there's no deal, open up your mouth." He finished almost in a whisper.

"You're sick Thorin." Thranduil replied stepping back, putting as much distance between them as the dimensions of the cell made possible. "How could Legolas see anything appealing in you is a mystery. You disgust me."

"Thranduil, you agreed-"

"I did not agreed to this!" The Elvenking interrupted him. "You want to humiliate me, fine, but find another way to do so, this is- this is too-"

"This is less than what you deserve for letting my kin perish fighting that dragon." Thorin growled as he stepped closer to the elf. "You don't think I would rather use my wish in the behalf of our few survivors? That I wouldn't wish for a bed, a roof and some food for them? Of course I would! But you wouldn't concede me that. You wouldn't go back on your word in the matter of assist us."

"Thorin..." Came Thranduil's warning but it went unheard.

"You acted like a heartless bastard back then and you're acting like a whore now." The dwarf prince went on, enjoying the other's nervousness at his advances although he hadn't even touched him, yet. "Willing to trade your time and pride, no matter the reason for doing it so. You are the one who's pathetic, Thranduil, so this... this suit you. Just accept it."

At saying that last word, Thorin took the final step to close the remaining distance between them. He tried to take hold of the Elvenking's wrists but the elf was faster. Thranduil took out his dagger and pointed it towards the dwarf’s throat.

"This conversation is over." He said trying to keep the trembling of his body, out of his voice.

As Thorin stepped back, the Elvenking walked to the exit of the cell, never lowering the dagger nor turning his back on him, and once he was outside and the door locked once again, he said:

"You will be executed in the morning." Turned away and left, leaving Thorin alone with his thoughts.


Thranduil waited to be out of the dungeons to finally take a deep breath and get some air running to his chest and brain. He was a King, even a warrior when the occasion demanded it. He had fought and faced a potential dead with a straight face and a steady heartbeat many times. So how come he could feel his heart about to break his ribcase from its heavy pumping just because the dwarf had intended to make him... do that?

'That he believed I would agree to- to let him-' The Elvenking thought realizing he couldn't even say the words on his own head. 'It's ridiculous, barbaric.'

Did he really look that desperate for a solution? Was he, that desperate? No, of course not! Legolas would have to understand.

'He and Thorin had come to form a strange sort of bond, I can see that. But I am his father, surely our bond is stronger.' He told himself and decided to put his theory to test.


When he entered his son's bedroom, he was expecting to find a very mad Legolas. The young elf was emotional, too emotional sometimes, and even more so when it came to the dwarf. Thorin's imprisonment was no secret to the prince and the Elvenking knew Legolas wouldn't stop fighting until he were set free.
That's why he had two guards scorting him back to his room and making sure he remained there. So yes, if he knew his son, he wouldn't be happy about it.

'Don't fight with him, Thranduil, that's not the way to get to him.' He told himself as he walked into the young elf’s chambers.
It turned out to be, as always, easier said than done.

Legolas wasn't mad, in fact, he didn't even appeared to be angry. Sitting on a chair next to the large windows, dressed in dirty, torn out clothes, the same ones he wore when he left to the forest that morning, he seemed... sad.
Were the reason of such feeling any other than concern for that dwarf, Thranduil would have felt sorry for him, would have felt sad with him. But that didn't applied now that things were what they were. Now, Legolas' sadness only fueled his anger.
The Elvenking was about to lash out about it but his son spoke first.

"An entire race..." He said more to himself than for his father to heat and his tone was a soft, pained one. "We could have saved-"

"There are other dwarves around the Middle Earth. Erebor wasn't the only place they inhabited." Thranduil replied trying to keep his fury at bay.

"So they were expendables. Is what you're saying?"

"Please, Legolas, don't tell me now you care about them." The older elf said raising his voice as he walked towards his son in long furious strides. "Do not act as if you care about them when you only care about one!"

"And what if I do, Thranduil?" Legolas growled back, saying his father's name with contempt. "What if he has shown me dwarves are not the spiteful creatures you've described!"

"Oh but they are, Legolas! They are, and Thorin is the worst of them all!"

"He is not!"

"You don't know him."

"And you do?!" Legolas questioned in a sardonic tone and Thranduil was dying to answer but knew he couldn't.

What good would it do? That he tells him what his beloved dwarf intended to do to him a few moments ago. His son wouldn't believe him anyway. No, he had to find another way. He needed to think of a solution but Legolas broken expression only made it harder to do so.

"You have nothing to say?" His son insisted as he rose from the chair. "Then I want to see him."

"No." Came the Elvenking's automatic response. "I don't know what spell he put on you Legolas but it needs to end, right this moment.”

At hearing those words, the young elf only chuckled but no amusement was behind that sound.

"Is not an spell, you know? There's not magic in it." He said once again full of sadness.

"Then what is it? Explain to me what could you possible see in a creature of his type." Thranduil demanded grabbing the young elf's arm to pull him towards him without even realizing.

"He listens to me even when I'm not talking." Legolas replied in a soft, tender voice. "Is like... he could read me, my face, my voice, but not from the words that come out of my mouth, more like… if he could read my soul."

"Please child, don't be foolish..." The older elf said losing his temper, letting go of his son to put some distance between them.

"He doesn't treats me like a child!"

"No, you're right." Thranduil replied lowering his own voice. "He treats you like a whore."

No words were said after that in the few minuted that followed. Both, father and son, considering what could possibly be said.

"I like being treated that way." Came Legolas' pained voice after what it seemed to be an eternity.

Thranduil, however, would have choose an eternity of silence if those were the words he had to hear from his only son.

"Legolas-" He started.

"No, I- I think you already knew this, that I like... that I like being mistreated in bed."

"Or not in a bed at all." Thranduil said more to himself remembering the dwarf’s words about his son preferring the floor.

"You're right. There's something that comforts me, in pain I mean, in things like cold and hard stone. Feels like I deserve it, I suppose, I deserve it all." The young elf admitted lowering his head, not being able to look at his father in the eyes due to the shame he felt.

Thranduil could understand such feeling, but he needed his son to look at him when he told him what he needed to tell him, and so he close the distance between them, extended his hand and lifted Legolas’ chin.

"You don't. You don't deserve any of it." He said softening his voice. "I would never-"

"Never what?" Legolas questioned pushing his father's hand away. "Never treat me like a whore? Please, Thranduil, you already have."

"Never like that! Never hurting you or- or-"

"No, you're right." Legolas interrupted him putting some distance between them. "You make me feel like that just by looking at me. But it's different."

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked now feeling confused.

"It's different because you are the one person I wouldn't want treating me in that way. I don't want you to look at me as a whore, I want you to look at me, to- to think of me as a lover."

"You are my son!" Resonated Thranduil's voice through the prince's chambers.

"I am sorry for that." Legolas replied in no more than a whisper.

"And so, Thorin gives you what you want when I don't? oh but then is not the same thing you want from me what he gives you?" The Elvenking said after a few moments.

"He just makes me reach climax without making me feel bad about it."

After saying those words, the next thing the young prince knew was that the left side of his face hurted. Thranduil had slapped him so fast he didn't even saw it coming, and with such force that even his jaw and left eye were sore. He didn't blamed him for doing it so.

"This body you're so... eager to give to him, this body is mine, Legolas." Thranduil growled grabbing his arm once more, pulling him towards his own body. "It was born of your mother's love and mine, we made it, it's only fair that it belongs to us. To me, now that she's... he had no right to take you."

"He didn't." Came Legolas' reply. This time, however, he didn't tried to break the contact with his father.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he didn't... took me, as you put it."


"By the Valars, you really intent for me to say it outloud?!" Legolas practically yelped stepping back and out of his father's reach, his face now burning with shame.

Thranduil didn't went after him, he just stood there, confused.

"I- I know what I saw, back at Erebor, I saw- I" He stammered.

"He was- he..." Came his son's equally poor response.

The young prince didn't wanted to say it. What he and Thorin had done wasn't as bad as his father clearly thought it was, but it was still embarrassing to discuss it with him. He had known the older elf thought the dwarf prince and him had gone all the way, from a long time, and he had wished to correct him many times but never got enough courage to do so. Now, however, was his chance.

'You can do this Legolas...' He told himself. 'You can, just say...'
"He only used his fingers." Came his frightened voice.
"Nothing more happened."

If his father had looked confused before, now, after hearing those words, he seemed truly at lost.

"He- he used... what?" Thranduil mumbled.

"Just his-"

"Yes I heard that!" The Elvenking growled. "I just- I don't- understand. How that could-?"

"Well, it works." Legolas said without thinking, believing his father meant to ask how could that work on the task of bring someone pleasure.

But once again, his reckless tongue gain him the King's wrath. Thranduil was right in front of him in two long strides.

"You must think me a fool, Legolas." He said in a low, threatening tone as he cornered his son against the dresser at his back. "I may not know all there is to know about copulating with the same gender but I do know one doesn't get pleasure from the fingers, and believe me when I tell you, Thorin only cares about his own selfish desires."

"He does not." Legolas dared to say, understanding it was a risk but knowing exactly where his father was going with such comment. "He- he really didn't-"

"I don't believe you, Legolas."

A few moments of silence went by after that, the sound of their breathing and heavy hearts, the only sound in the room. But then Thranduil spoke, and his voice turned out to be daftening for the young prince.

"Take your clothes off." He said in a low, severe tone as he took one step back in order to give his son the necessary space to do it.

It couldn't be much more than one hour since he had found him and the dwarf in the cavern behind the waterfall and it was clear Legolas hadn't took a bath after that. So if... penetration had in deed took place, the signs would be there. That disgusting creature's seed might still be inside his son, that's what he thought.

Legolas could read that intention all too well on his father's face and wanted nothing more but to refuse, to fight it. He remembered, however, what happened when on their way back to Erebor, his father demanded the same thing of him and he refused it. It was only postpone the inevitable. And so now, he decided to comply.

The young elf started with his tunic. The laces at the chest hadn't been tied up again since he had taken the garment off back at the cavern, and so now it came off easily. What it revealed, however, wasn't easy to look at, or at least not so by a father.
Just like after that first time on Erebor, Legolas' chest was covered in small bruises, left there by Thorin's teeth, and just like that time, Thranduil felt tempted to touch them. He traced them with his fingers without hesitation, all the way from the young elf's chest to his abdomen, making Legolas shiver in the process.

"He enjoys to use his mouth on you." He commented with contempt. "Does it hurt? When he bites you?"

"O-only a little." Came his child's shy response.

"Hnn- I suppose he-" The Elvenking was saying when he suddenly came to a halt.

His fingers had traveled down, to the elf's lower abdomen, and when higher up his body the skin was smooth and soft, there it was sticky, dirty. The feeling caught Thranduil by surprise at first but it didn't took long for him to figure out what it was.

"Yours?" He asked making an effort to look at his son in the eyes in that moment.

At hearing the question, Legolas felt his blood run cold. He knew his father was trying to appear to be as methodical as possible, but he was far from being indifferent to what he was seeing. Anger and rage were burning inside of him and the young prince could see it, how the older elf was fighting a war against himself so he wouldn't let it all explode.
So he should lie, Legolas knew he should, but for some reason, he couldn't. For the first time, his father was trying to talk to him in the matter of his preferences, to understand. He was no doubt, furious about what he was discovering, but at least he was asking, asking him what he felt. So no, he couldn't lie to him, not now.

"Legolas..." Came that deep voice that meant Thranduil was growing impatient. "Answer me, is this your seed?" He said and the elven prince felt his face burn with shame.

"His- too, it's his too." Legolas replied and observed his father's face change into disgust.

The Elvenking wasted not time and cleaned his fingers on his son's leggings, the closest cloth at hand. Then, he said:

"Take those off too."

Legolas was expecting this and so he obeyed without protest, knowing well that refusing would only made it look as if he had something to hide. And he was done with hiding. If his father had the guts to go through with his examination and finding out what he and Thorin had done, he would have the guts to accept it without complain.

So he opened the lace of his leggings and striped naked, feeling the older elf's eyes travel upon his skin, undressing him to his core.

A moment of silence followed after than and then his father's command cut the air between them.

"Turn around and lean over, Legolas." He said pointing at the dresser behind him.

The young elf could hear the hammering of his heart and wondered if his father's skilled ears could hear it too. He couldn’t remember ever being so nervous since that time after Erebor, but now he would do things differently. Now, when his king commanded he would obey, he wouldn't hesitate, or tremble or mumble poor excuses or pleadings of forgiveness. He still loved his father, how could he not? But he had been unmerciful with the dwarves and now he was being unfair with Thorin.

"Your wishes are my orders, my king." Legolas said and Thranduil could see his compliant attitude for what it was. One more act of rebellion, of protest.

At realizing that, the strength to hold back his anger inside, faltered him, and his body moved without him even noticing. He closed the distance between him and his child, who were now facing the wall, and pushed his upper body down on the dresser.

"Do not test your luck, Legolas. One more insolence and I'll have you locked away on the dungeons." The Elvenking whispered with venom on the prince's ear, his own body leaned over against the naked back of his son.

Legolas’ head had almost hit the wall when his father pushed him against the furniture, barely taller than waist high, but that however, was the least of his problems. His bigger concern was that now he was practically bending over, naked, with the older elf's body right behind him, in fact even connecting with him in several places.
He needed to do something, to say something to make his father put some distance between them again, but what? What would it be wise to say?

At the end, simple silence was his best weapon, for Thranduil took it as a sign of respect.

"That's better." He said keeping one hand at the prince's back but lifting his upper body from him. "Now spread you legs."

Thanking the Valars his front was very much pressed against the dresser, Legolas did what he had been asked to do. He parted his legs while lowering his head on his arms, now folded on top of the furniture.

'Breathe, Legolas...' He told himself. 'Just breathe deep.'

Thranduil could tell the young elf was doing even the impossible to stay still, that he was suffering, he could even heard his child's heart beating so fast so loud that it wouldn't come as a surprise if it jumped out of his chest. And it was killing him, to see him like this, to know that he was the one hurting him in this way, but he needed to know. He needed to know his son wasn't lying to his face, that he was still, somehow, in someway, innocent.

So he took a step back and let his eyes travel the young elf's back and lower. He could see then a few scratches over the pale skin, probably a consequence of indulging in the pleasures of the flesh on the hard stone floor of a cavern, but apart from that he couldn't see anything else. Thranduil hadn't expected the task to be easy, but now that he needed to actually get his hands involved in it, he was starting to understand just how hard it would be.
He had never thought he would touch his son in the way he now was about to, and for a second, he forgot why he intended to do it so. But then the image of the dwarf prince on top of his son on Erebor, and of him, standing naked next to a half dressed Thorin behind the waterfall, made him remember and he forced himself to put his hands over the tender flesh in front of him.

The Elvenking parted the young elf's cheeks, gaining a gasp of surprise from him, but also, a better view from his entrance. The skin there was reddish, clearly just recently abused, but no traces of blood or any other fluid could been seen on it. That, however, didn't meant anything, he thought. The seed all over his child's lower abdomen had been invisible, probably due to being long dry, and only noticeable to the touch.

So Thranduil traced the soft skin with his fingers, making his son's whole body tremble in the process, and his own, shiver at the feeling. His heart was rising, he could even hear it, was Legolas hearing it too? He wondered why, why was he starting to get...anxious, growing impatient, feeling like if... this weren't enough.
Before even realizing what he was doing, Thranduil started testing the entrance, pushing a finger against the tight ring of muscle, finding its natural resistance, challenging, its response, thrilling. It wasn't until he heard his son speak, that his mind catched up with his previous actions.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Legolas asked not being able to keep the trembling out of his voice.

The question brought the Elvenking back to reality, back to their compromising position but also to his goal.

"There are no traces of his disgusting seed outside." He said with severity as he continued his ministrations. "I will have to look inside."

"He didn't- put it anywhere near there, just-"

"I will decide that." The older elf replied and by his tone Legolas could tell his father was determined to see that trough.

And it was killing him. Having the one person who's touch he had been craving for, finally touch him but not so for the reasons he had always dreamed of, but rather because his word wasn't worth the other's trust.

'This is just confirmation for him, Legolas, nothing more.' The young prince told himself trying to compel his body not to feel any pleasure from the touch.

That turned out to be, however, almost impossible. His father had one hand firmly grasping one of his cheeks, clearly to open the way to his entrance, and the other, pushing its fingers against the sensitive ring of muscles there, and all the while the young prince could feel the other elf's body heat and even the brush of his clothes, against the back of his legs and backside. It was maddening and no matter how hard he was trying, he couldn't keep his body still.

"Am I hurting you, Legolas?" Came his father's deep voice and real concern could be heard on his tone.

"N-no, but you could hurry and do what you intend to do at once." The prince replied growing impatient.

"Very well." He heard and almost immediately felt a finger press harder against his entrance.

"Wait!" He practically yelled feeling his muscles tense with the anticipation. "At least- use something to ease the way." He said, his voice no more than a whisper now.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked in clear confusion.

"For your fingers, to- to go inside."

"Thorin did this, or so you say, out there in that cavern, what did he use to... ease the way?" The older elf asked and Legolas knew it should be enough to just explain it to him, but he wanted to show him.

"Give me your hand." He said lifting his head from his arms and extending his own hand towards his father.

For a second,Thranduil hesitated, trying to figure out what his son's plans were, but then the young elf looked into his eyes and before even realizing, he was placing his hand on his.

Legolas took it, and holding together and apart from the rest his father's middle and annular fingers, he started to licked them.

Now it was Thranduil's turn to gasp in surprise. His son was lapping his fingers, getting his soft tongue to circle them, to go between them, in slow, tender licks. He was about to stop him, to tell him it was enough, when suddenly the young elf opened his mouth a little wider and took those two fingers inside. The feeling was strange, the memory it evoked, stranger.
Having Legolas take his finger into his mouth made him remember what the dwarf had requested of himself. That he took... another part of his anatomy into his mouth. The thought alone was enough to make him feel sick. Why would anyone do that? It seemed so... humiliating. But that was probably it, right?

"Do you enjoy doing this, Legolas? Humiliate yourself to other." He couldn't help asking as he retrieved his hand back and out of his son's reach.

"Right now it was just necessary." Came his replied. "You asked me what he used to ease the way inside of me, and I showed you, that was all."

"But you agree that it is humiliating, do you not?"

"It might be, I suppose. But it's also pleasant. For both parts."

"It is not-" Thranduil tried to argue.

"Please..." Legolas interrupted him. "You were just pushing your fingers deeper inside, probably imagining it was something else."

"I was not!" Was he? Could it be that he was without being conscious of doing it so? He asked himself.

"Whatever the case might be, the saliva is drying. You should hurry." The young prince said lowering his head back to his folded arms once again.

Thranduil stood still and in complete silence a few moments after that, he was really doing this and he shouldn't forget why he was doing it. So as he repeated himself it was all in order to find out how much had Thorin corrupted his son, he pushed two fingers inside his opening.

Legolas didn't felt pain at the intrusion. It was more like a burning, spreading all through his body. He fought to keep himself from moaning at the feeling but he wasn't strong enough to prevent his body from tremble and push back, trying to gain more of what it was receiving.

Thranduil, on his part, knew well he should be taking off his fingers now. If the dwarf's seed had been still inside, or if it had ever been inside to begin with, at retreating his fingers it should leak through them and out. But the Elvenking was pushing his long digits deeper, further inside his son's tight hole. Why?

"Legolas... I-" He gasped feeling his heart racing and his breathing become heavier.

"I- know, Ada..." And Legolas did, he did knew what his father was feeling. That want, that craving that should not be. "Just stop fighting it..." He said arching his back.

Thranduil could see this was no longer an examination and so he just followed his son's advice. He pushed the fingers further, harder, and his whole body accompanied the movement of his hand. He pushed his hips forwards, against his son's rear.

Legolas could feel then his father's hard member pressed against him. He was enjoying this. This had stop being about Thorin for a while now. This was about his father craving to be inside of him without even knowing it.

"Aaahhh... Ada..." The young prince moaned. "Please, more..." He begged.

And his father complied. He pushed his fingers deeper inside until he reached a place slightly different to the touch, a spot he didn't even knew males had. The way the young elf yelped out of pleasure and the contraction of his inner muscles around his digits, however, told Thranduil of its existence.

"Legolas... Legolas..." He repeated over and over as he took his fingers almost out and then back in again with more force and speed than before, his clothed hips thrusting against his son's exposed cheeks.

It was all too much, the stimulation of his father's fingers inside of him, the heat of his body, his voice calling his name like in so many of his fantasies. It didn't took long for Legolas to spill his seed all over the dresser, for him to come undone, once again, at his lover’s hands.

When he come out of his dizziness, however, he remembered the older elf had once again, be left unsatisfied.

"I'll turn around, Ada." Legolas said indicating his father to pull the fingers, still inside of him, out.

Thranduil understood that and so he did it, noticing the slight discomfort his son showed at the movement. Once the digits were out, however, he couldn't help his attention to shift to them.
No traces of seed could been seen there so he could only assume Legolas had been telling the truth. But if that was the case, had it all been in vain? Had he just-?

"Ada..." He heard his son's voice interrupting his thoughts. "May I?" Legolas was asking as he lowered himself to his knees in front of him.

At first, Thranduil was too confused with his own dilemma as to understand what his child was trying to do now, but then he felt his soft hands working open his long tunic and he panicked.

"Legolas! What are you intending to do?!" He growled with anger already knowing the answer.

"I intend to pleasure you with my mouth." He said as if he were commenting on the weather. "You asked me if I enjoy it and I do. Just let me-"

"No!" Resonated the Elvenking's voice. "No I won't! This is not-"

"What? Right?" His son finished him for him with contempt. "Oh, you are an hypocrite, father! You want to take me just as madly as I want you to do it!" He yelled.

"I don't! Don't be foolish!" Thranduil replied feeling his cheeks burn with shame as he took a few steps back and rearranged his tunic.

"You do, you want to be inside me." Legolas said as he took a few steps towards him. "Or can you swear to me you weren't just imagining what that would be like?"

"No, I-"

"How would it feel like? You can't, Ada. So just make me yours before he does."

At hearing that last sentence, Thranduil closed the distance between them once again and grabbed his son by the arms.

"Would that be enough?" He asked him and a plea could be read on his tone "Enough to make you forget him, to make your heart mine and mine alone?"

"Wh-what?" The young elf asked at lost.

"Just answer me, Legolas!"

"N-no, father. You're once again offering your- touch as a solution to something." If he got what his father was saying right, then that was exactly what this was all about.

"And what if I am? Can you not see? How far would I go to keep you with me?" Thranduil replied now feeling desperate, walking away and then back again towards his son.

"As far as any father would to keep an eye on his little child. Nothing more." Said Legolas and his voice carried a profound sadness.

"There is no love greater than that, Legolas!"

"Then perhaps I should feel grateful, instead of... I don't know, maybe is best not to feel a thing. But still, father, the answer is no." The elven prince said with determination. "No, bedding me wouldn't be enough for me to forget Thorin."

"Legolas, you don't... know him." Thranduil said not knowing what else to say to take the poison that dwarf was out of Legolas's injury, which he himself had inflicted.

"I know he had been kind with me, I know he had been there for me when you were not." His son said firmly. "I don't want to see him harmed."

"Do you... do you love him?" He had to ask.

"In a way, yes, you could say I do." Came the young elf's response, filling the Elvenking's heart with nothing but hurt and anger.

"Then I'm sorry to inform you." He said with contempt. "But he would be executed in the morning."

Chapter Text

Thranduil took another sip of red wine, the strongest he had stored as the situation demanded no less. He was on his third glass and wondering how long would it take for the alcohol to surt some effect. He hoped that soon, would be the answer.
As he waited, he started looking for something to wear. His fine tunics wouldn't do this time. He needed to wear something... less nice, hideous, would be even better. But more importantly, it had to something he could dispose afterwards, for he had no wishes to preserve any reminder of the night ahead.

After going through all of his wardrobe twice, he finally picked up some old leggings and a modest gray tunic he had always hated. It's fabric, with no embroidery or fine detail what so ever, was rustic and a little scratchy to the touch, which made it perfect for the occasion.
Once he was finished dresing, the Elvenking set on the task to take care of his hair. Normally he would have one of his servants do the job but that wouldn't do neither. Not this time. He always used his hair down, in private, in public, when he was sitting on his throne or when he was going into battle, it was no different, always down and everyone knew that. So any other way would call for some unwanted attention towards the matter and he couldn't afford that.
So tonight, he was on his own with the task and he thought it best to wear his hair tied up, less he were prepared to cut it short afterwards, which he was not.
He loved his long hair and he loved to wear it down, but he definitely didn't wanted to see it get... in the middle of anything and end up all dirty. That was simply not acceptable. So he took a couple of minutes to brush it and then tied it up on a low, loose tail at the nape of his head. Then he was all set, or for the most part at least.

Thranduil poured himself another glass of wine, the forth, and drank it all at once hoping maybe that would do the trick. Once the crimson liquid was gone, he was ready to continue with the next part of his preparations for the night.
He covered his clothes with a fine silver robe and opened the door of his chambers.

"Get me Galion." He said to the guard standing outside. "Tell him to come as soon as possible and to let himself in, I'll be waiting." And with that he closed the door once more.

Inside, he poured himself the fifth glass of wine, sat on the spacious sofa in front of the unlited chimney, and drank.

'One step at the time Thranduil.' The Elvenking told himself already feeling his heart starting to race. 'You are a King, son of a long line of Kings, you can manage this.' He repeated thinking it could help but soon realizing that, remembering that fact, only made it worst.

Luckily, it didn't take Galion too long to arrive. Thranduil was on his sixth glass when his loyal guard, and more than that, his closest friend, announced himself and entered his chambers.

"You sent for me, my Lord, how can I assist you on this evening?" The tall elf said.

"There are two guards outside my son's chambers. Inform them that their orders have changed." Came the Elvenking's reply. "They must now simply ensure the safety of the prince during his hours of rest, as normal, but should he wish to leave his quarters, he's now free to do so."

"They will be notified immediately, my King." Said Galion as he prepared to depart. "Is there anything else you wish me to do?"

"Just one more thing." Thranduil replied without taking his eyes from his now empty glass. "Have the guards of the dungeons move our prisoner to the isolation cell."

"You fear he scapes, my Lord? How many guards should I comand to stay put on the doors to his cell during the night?"

"None, Galion." Thranduil said and his heart hurt for having to lie to his friend. "Thorin's attitude would determinate his future. So tonight lets give him some... space, to think things. Lets show him what a future here, in complete isolation, with no other company but the stone of the cell, looks like." He finished as he stood up and reached the bottle for more wine.

"What about the tunel, my King?" Galion asked, noticing something was off with his master's request. "He could escape through there and-"

"He won't, Galion." Thranduil replied with a little more severity than intended. "Only three in all Mirkwood knows the way out of that passage, two of them is us and we wouldn't help the dwarf to scape, would we?"

"No, of course not, forgive my intrusion on the matter." Came Galion's apology as he bowed his head in a sign of respect.

"It is forgiven." The Elvenking replied softening his tone. "Now you may go and do as you've been commanded."

With that, the other elf turned around and walked towards the door. Before opening it, however, he look in Thranduil's direction once more and said:

"If you allow me one more comment, my Lord."

"Yes?" The other elf replied never expecting what followed.

"Your hair looks delightful this way as well." Galion said before opening the door and walking out, leaving Thranduil speacheless.


After that awkward moment with the other elf, the Elvenking waited about an hour before continuing with the next and final part of his plan, just to give more than enough time for his orders to be followed.
By then, he had long finished the bottle of wine but apart from a minimal dizziness, he still didn't felt the expected effects. Thranduil only hoped his strongest wine wouldn't fail him in the morning when he needed any memories about the previous night, tonight, to be forgotten.

With that hope, he stood up from the couch, took off the tunic meant to cover his less fine clothes, and parted.


Thorin knew every dungeon had its isolation cell. And so where he was now had to be it.

It was located underground where the stone was of a different color and the air thicker. A long tunel was the only way to get there, or so it seemed, and no bars could be seen at the entrance. Instead, there was a steel door with one large lock.
Inside, the place wasn't completely terrible, Thorin had to admit. It was about twice the size of his previous cell and here there was a bed, a fur rug by it, a small table with two chairs, and, at one corner, some sort of sanitary installation. All things considered, it was clear that the cell was meant to make the stay of its prisoner, a berable one.

So once the guards left and locked the door behind him, Thorin sat on the bed and begun to contemplate the idea of spending his last night of life there, alone, in a cell, in a kingdom it wasn't his own, looking at nothing but stone and... a horrible, hideous, large tapestry, hanging on one of the walls. And what on earth was what it was embroidered in it?

Thorin was still trying to figure this out when, suddenly, the tapestry moved.

"Thranduil..." The dwarf prince gasped without even realizing when the tall, sbelt figure came from behind the horrible piece of decoration. 'A hidden passage.' He thought feeling the soft breeze of air that came into the cell along with the elf.

"Thranduil." Thorin repeated, now in his strong, regular tone of voice as he stood up from the bed. "What are you-?"

"If I do this..." The Elvenking said interrupting him. "you would-"

"I would make Legolas hate me." The dwarf prince finished for him. "I would make him regret the day we met and everything that happened after."

"Don't- remind me of that. Of what you have... done with my son. Not now that I- that-" Thranduil replied and trough his posture was as proudful as ever, the almost imperceptible tremble of of his voice were enough to give him away.

"You can calm, is just... flesh on flesh, we won't be bounded for life or anything of the sort."

"It's all the more disturbing precisely because of that." Came the elf's anguished response as he started pacing the room. "This should be done by lovers, and maybe not even then. It's just- it's-"

"Could it be that you've never done this nor did you ever had it done to you?" Thorin simply asked making Thranduil come to a halt.

"Well, of course not! I am a King not some common... whore." He replied feeling his face burning with shame.

"Hnn." Was all he got as an answer.

"Wait, don't- don't tell me Legolas has- that he-"

"Be at peace. He didn't. Nor did I did it to him." The dwarf prince said and the elf felt his heart starting to beat again.

"That's a relief." He said more to himself that for the other to hear. "But... why have me do this?" He had to ask.

Thranduil could understand the dwarf's wishes for revenge, and he could even understand that the prince chooses shame to punish him, but what he asked of him had to be a sacrifice too for himself. If Thorin hated him like he knew he did then why put himself through the disgust of his touch?
The answer, as he expected, never came.

"Just come here and do it already." The dwarf prince said. "Unlike you I'm getting older by the second."

'You're not getting older fast enough.' The Elvenking through wishing the other would just drop death of old age or whatever natural reason a dwarf could die of.

As that didn't happen, of course, he started walking towards him with a heavy heart.

'Just flesh on flesh.' He told himself not really knowing why Thorin's words were now on his mind.

In six steps he was right in front of the prince, at arm's length, and so there he kneeled once again. For the second time that day, for the second time in his whole life, in front of the same person. And just like that first time, he felt the stone burn beneath his knees and the heat spreading, all the way to his chest.

"There is fine, just... lower yourself a little more." He heard Thorin say as he felt two hands on his shoulders pushing him down.

"I do not need instruction." Thranduil replied looking up at the other's face with a furious glare.

He had know, when he kneeled, that he would have to sit on his heels for his head to be at the necessary level, but still, it was being harder than he thought to compel his body to do what he knew he had to do.

The dwarf prince could see this as well, that even though Thranduil didn't appeared to be having second thoughts, his body most definitely was. So it would be up to him to get things on motion.

"It's... clear, that you don't need instructions, really." He said trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "But maybe I could gain us both some time if I just... help?" He asked starting to undo his belt.

For a minute, the Elvenking didn't knew how to respond to that? And should he? Respond? It was obvious that the dwarf wasn't really waiting for authorization because he was proceeding on his own but... he was truly at lost in what to do.
So he just remained still, kneeling there, looking at one side trying not to see how Thorin disposed his fur vest and opened his tunic all the way and why was he eveng doing that? Thranduil couldn't help wonder.

And just as if reading his mind, the dwarf prince said: "I don't want it getting all dirty."

At hearing this, the elf couldn't prevent himself from turning his head in the dwarf's direction again, unfortunately, just in time to see him working his pants open and exposing his member. In that moment, he felt sick, disgusted.

He had never been intimate with another male besides his son and he, Legolas, looked so much like himself that it had been like looking at his own body, like touching his own flesh, although the responses were completely different, but still. And now here he was.
Thorin's body was so not like his own. His abdomen was marked by muscles and nasty wound scars, his chest and lower abdomen were slightly covered by hair and his... no, he shouldn't been looking at it, at no part of the other's body actually. Why was he? He wondered when, suddenly, the dwarf prince's voice brought him back to the present time.

"Seeing anything you like?" He asked in a mocking tone.

"Of course not." Came his automatic response as he looked up right into the other's eyes, trying to forget the fact that he just had his uncovered member almost in his face. "You are repulsive."

"So what if I am? You are not supposed to enjoy what comes next. Now open up your mouth." Thorin said in a deep voice the elf had never heard him use before.

He knew he should just obey and get it over with. But he couldn't. He couldn't even move.

"Thranduil, open up your mouth." The dwarf prince repeated growing impatient. "Or at least... stick out your tongue if you don't want to swallow it at once." He finished with half a smile knowing just how much the comment would upset the other.

"You truly are sick, Thorin." Thranduil replied bitterly still not being able to do what he was being told to do.

"Is doing this really so hard for you that you would rather lost your son's love for ever?" The dwarf prince had to ask.

"Hard? It's humiliating!" Resonated the Elvenking's voice through the cell and he was thankful he had send the guards away at a safe distance.

"Is it? It's just you and me here, no one would know."

"I would! I would know Thorin! For the rest of my life I would remember this moment."

"Then leave!" Thorin said raising his voice as well. "Or stay and swallow me."

"I hate you." Thranduil whispered underneath his breath looking down at the thing he was supposed to take in his mouth.

"The feeling is mutual." Thorin lied as he took his member from the base in one hand, lifting the still soft flesh and pointing it towards the elf's face.

'Just... flesh on flesh.' The Elvenking repeated to himself hating that those were still the dwarf's words resonating inside his head.

He could hear his heart beating harder than drums before the battle when he parted his lips and let his tongue slide past his teeth. The movement was minimum, uncertain and shy, but Thorin was ready to encourage it into become more.
The dwarf prince placed his member over the wet muscle, shivering at the contact, enjoying the warm air that came out of the elf's mouth after his initial gasp of surprise. His tongue was soft, softer than he had imagine. It retracted at first, clearly rejecting his intrusion, but it remained, and after what it felt like a millennia, it even adventured furter.

Thranduil let his tongue out a little more knowing well that just the tip of it out of his mouth, wouldn't get the job done, but it was being hard to compel it to advance.
The first thing he felt, when the dwarf pushed his member against it, was the warmth. The other's flesh, at least down there, was warmer than any flesh he had ever traced with his tongue, his wife soft breasts, his son's neck... no, he didn't wanted to think about them in a moment like the one he was living.
The second thing he took notice of, despite his best efforts not to, was the texture. As he advanced on Thorin's member he could feel the softness of the skin there and even the veins beneath it. Like when it came to rivers, their shape could be unpredictable but at the end they went all in the same direction. Thranduil found himself unconsciously tracing the direction of one of said veins, he supposed, the main one, thicker than the others and straiger too. He didn't even knew what he was doing until he heard the dwarf say:

"Nnggh... that feels... n-not so bad." In a lustful voice.

Instinctively, his tongue retreated to his mouth as his face burned with shame, but Thorin would have none of that.
He used his free hand to hold Thranduil's jaw in place as he pushed his member against his lips.

"You've already came this far, don't tell me now you will retreat as a coward would." The dwarf prince asked knowing the elf would take that as a dare. And so he did.

"Never..." Came Thranduil's reply before he opened his mouth to wrap his lisps aroud the head of the member in front of him.

"Nnngghh.." Thorin grunted.

'Just flesh on flesh... flesh on... flesh...' The Elvenking keep repeating in his head but the problem was this flesh was sending too many signals into his brain.

Now, as his tongue came in contact with the dwarf prince's leaking tip, there was also the taste. Salty, like no other thing he had ever tasted, Thorin's flavor invaded his mouth.
Thranduil thought he would get sick and not even because of the taste itself but because of knowing where it came from, from who it came from.
So he swallowed a few times, a reflex so he wouldn't emptied his stomach right there and then. It wasn't until he heard the dwarf's grunts of ecstasy that he realized the action was being pleasurable.

"Aaahh... Thranduil." Thorin moaned no longer caring if his feelings for him were discovered. He wanted to say his name.

The elf didn't knew how to pleasure a male with his mouth, that was rather obvious. But he was a quick learner. Thorin enjoyed the tentative licks, the wrapped lips against his tip and now it was time to teach him some new tricks.

So he took his member out of Thranduil's soft cavern and slapped his face with it twice. At this, the elf threw him a dead glare, clearly taking the gesture as on offense, but didn't moved an inch. That, the dwarf had to admit, was valuable.

"Swirl your tongue around the edge." He said tracing the other's lips with his tip.

At hearing those words, the Elvenking's first instinct was to turn his head to the side, to stand up or do anything to break the contact between the dwarf's member and his mouth. But that would do no good. He still had to go through with this and the faster the better.

So Thranduil sticked his tongue a little further this time and did as he was told. He circled the member's head a couple of times before lapping at the tip. He had no idea what he was doing but as Thorin's grunts grew in number and volume, he knew he had to be doing something right.

The Elvenking repeated his ministrations a few times and Thorin could only think of the situation as surreal. Thranduil, in the past the elf of his fantasies and now his enemy, was there, kneeled before him, pleasuring him with his mouth and he was... mesmerizing, as always.
Not the common clothes nor the new arrange of his hair could hide his natural elegance, his beauty, but the dwarf prince felt tempted to tease him about it anyway.

"What is this?" He said grabbing the tail of hair from its base in one hand. "You made this so that it would be easier to pull at your hair?" He finished and did precisely that, gaining a pained gasp from the elf that he took as an opportunity.

Thorin waste no time and pushed his member past the pink lips and white teeth, keeping his hold on the elf's head to make sure he stood in place.

The invasion took Thranduil by surprise. He heard the dwarf's comment about his hair, felt his head being pulled backwards and a sharp pain in his scalp, but this... his mouth being filled by the other's flesh... this he hadn't been expecting, not in the way it happened at least.
He felt like he was chocking, as if he couldn't breath. He wished he could bite, just bite the other's member off, but he couldn't, he couldn't close his mouth, nor could he move his head to get away from the intrusion. Thorin had one hand in his jaw and the other on his nape to prevent that from happening.
So the Elvenking tried to free himself from the grip by pushing with his hands at the other's legs. But Thorin had a physical strength he had no considered possible and so his desperate intents were in vain. They did, however, made the prince pity him and so he loosened his hold and pulled his member out.

"Thranduil... I- I need you to let- me in I... open up wider..." Thorin tried to explain to the elf but he was out of air and about to explode.

"I- can't..." The Elvenking replied holding back the tears that were about to escape. He felt so humiliated, so ashamed. "It's enough... Thorin..."

"Is not nearly enough." The dwarf prince grunted as he once more took hold of the elf's hair. "It won't be, not until my seed runs inside your mouth and down your throat." He spoke with lust.

"N-no, I-"

"You can, open up and breathe through your nose. No one has ever asphyxiated from doing this." The dwarf said as he took his member in his free hand, moving his grip on the impossible hard flesh up and down a few times before placing it against the elf's lips.

Had the situation be different, had the person in front of him be his son, the Elvenking knew he would have found the whole scene incredible erotic. But things were what the were and even though he could no longer say he find the prince disgusting or ugly, he was being almost forced to do this. He had fallen in disgrace, he had kneeled before a dwarf and let him take his pleasure on his mouth. He had no more honor to defend, no pride. So he may as well would finish with his plan and make his sacrifice worth something.

With this in mind, Thranduil opened his mouth and took the member in. The once soft flesh was now hard and even warmer than before. It was also glistering with his saliva and its white fluids which said it was almost ready to burst.
So he swirled his tongue around the edges of the head, as Thorin had instructed before, and then he let his head be moved back and forwards by the strong hand at his nape.
He breathed through his nose, as suggested, but still felt like choking every time the member hit the back of his throat.

He coughed a couple of times, which was hard having his mouth full, and instantly felt a hand on his neck, massaging his throat in a gentle, tender way.

The gesture didn't seem to belong to the same person who was ravishing his mouth but it did. Thorin was... contradicting, he had learned that much.

Soon enough, the dwarf prince's movements increased in velocity and force and then, as they suddenly stopped, Thranduil felt him explode inside his mouth. He could taste the salty flavor from before but more concentrated this time and in major quantity. Thorin's seed was running in his tongue and now, as his member was still filling his mouth, it would also run down his throat, just as the dwarf said it would.
Thranduil swallowed it all, knowing that that would close their deal.

The dwarf prince grunted in ecstasy when he reached his climax but he moaned in pure bliss when after that, he saw his elf swallowing his release. Thranduil could hate him for all eternity but he would never forget his taste, the texture and warmth of his seed on his tongue, on his throat. He had been the first the Elvenking had took in that way and he was a part of him now.
Seeing a thread of white scapes the other's lips while his member still filled his mouth was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. It also told him, however, that Thranduil could really choke this time and so he pulled off.

The Elvenking heard a wet sound and suddenly felt his mouth empty. He looked up and saw the prince's member becoming soft once again. It was over. The nightmare was over and now all he had to do was pick up the pieces and try to figure out how to let it all in the past, where it belonged.
So Thranduil rose from the ground, only then realizing how much his knees were hurting, and straightened his posture. He cleaned up his mouth with his sleeve and then rearranged his hair and clothes.

Thorin watched him tried to collect himself and for the second time that night, he felt pity of him. If the elf had hated every second of it as much as he thought he had, then he would never be the same after their shared night.
The dwarf prince was thinking in something to say to make him feel... less horrible about what had happened, when a sudden change in the cell caught his attention. It was the soft breeze. Almost since Thranduil's arrival, he had felt it, a soft breeze coming from somewhere. But now nothing, it was gone.
His concern must have been showing on his face because suddenly, Thranduil's eyes were on him. And then, he said:

"That must be Legolas leaving." As he himself turned around to abandon the cell.

"What did you say?" Thorin ask truly at lost. He heard the young elvenprince's name but... what had Thranduil say about him?

"Legolas..." the Elvenking repeated. "You didn't noticed his presence?"

"I- wait, here?!" The dwarf said rearranging his own clothes in a hurry. It couldn't be, no.

"It doesn't surprise me really, your kind has less perception than a roc."

"You... you knew?!" Thorin shout when the elf's words started to sink in in his brain. "Why? Why did you let him see-?"

"See what? What you made me do?" Thranduil asked turning around to face him once again. "Oh, Thorin, I didn't let him... I made sure he would." He said and his eyes spoke of rage but also of so much pain and shame.

"Why?" Why would he do that to his son? To himself?

"Because that was our deal, I had to... do this for you and you would break his heart. Right?"

"But not like this! Never like this!" The dwarf prince growled taking a step towards the Elvenking.

"No? But this was exactly what he needed!" The elf replied with venom but unconsciously backing up. "He didn't needed a poor excuse for you leaving him, he needed to see your true nature."

"And this was-?"

"This shows that you don't love him." Thranduil interrupted him. "That you don't love anyone but yourself and that all he ever was to you, was an easy way to warm your bed."

"That's not true and you know it!" He tried to argued. He had no doubt the Elvenking hated his kin but could he truly think so little of him?

"Realy? Is not? So you bedded him because you have feeling for him?"


"Then that means you have feeling for me too, is that right?" Thranduil asked with obvious sarcasm and his logic was good that Thorin couldn't fight it.

The elf was so sure the answer to his question was no, that it made sense. If the dwarf prince could be intimate with him without loving him, hating him even, it wasn't out of place to assume he could do the same with Legolas.
What the Elvenking didn't know was that Thorin did had feelings for him. But they were silly, unfounded and childish feelings, and he wasn't about to reveal them.

So Thorin just look down and let the question go unanswered.

"Well..." Thranduil said after a few moments with a fake smile it didn't quite reached his eyes. "...precisely my point, Thorin. Thank you for honoring your word."

"I never agreed to this Thranduil." Thorin said when he saw the other turn around to leave."You have no word."

"Think what you must. You're not my problem anymore." The Elvenking replied lifting the tapestry and opening the steel door behind. "My guards will escort you out of Mirkwood in the morning. Don't ever again put a foot on my lands." And with that, he left.

They wouldn't see each other again until many years latter, when Legolas found him leading a group of his kin through the woods in a quest to reclaim their mountain, their home.

Chapter Text

Legolas opened his eyes when the first lights of sun entered through the white curtains. He hadn't been sleeping, not really, just lying there, tangled on sheets that weren't his own, on a bed in which he was not wanted.
Night had made it easy to pretend. To pretend he had been desired, he had been loved. In the darkness one could imagine almost anything, one could dream. But morning had the power to erase it all.
In the daylight things were what they were and not what one wished them to be. In the daylight, memories of pasion shifted into regret and shame.

Legolas had been dreading the brake of the day all night long, for he had known, that once the morning came, he would have to open his eyes and face what he had done. And there was a word for it, to describe what he did. But if he hope to ever gather the necessary strength to get up from that bed, walk to the door and leave, he would rather not think about said word. He would rather not think about anything at all.

Ever so slowly, Legolas rose to a sitting position on the mattress, feeling every muscle complain at the movement and his head starting to throb painfully in the new position. Yet that, wasn't even concerning him.
The pain was welcomed, always had. But the smell, the smell of sex lingering in the room, of sweat, of seemen, of blood... that was unbearable. It was making his stomach turn so violently he thought he would be spilling its contents any moment then. And he hadn't even see it yet. His work.

Last night, when it had been over, Legolas had turn his back to the scene displaying his sin. He faced the windows and lay there, still, waiting for morning to come. Now it was here and he knew time as come for him to turn around and see. And so he did.
Once again, slowly, carefully, no so much as a favor to his own muscles but to those of the person lying next to him, he turned around. And so he saw.

Bites and bruises were covering the motionless figure. The once perfect, translucent skin, was now tainted with purple marks on the wrists and red bite marks on the chest and inner thighs. The long, velvet hair was disarranged, some locks tangled around the arms and a few of them around the metal bars of the headboard. The lips, always of a pale pink and so soft to the touch, were now redish and cracked, a few drops of dry seed visible on them. The traces of it going all the way down the neck, chest and lower abdomen, like long cuts that would leave scars and be with their owner always.
Legolas felt the bile rising in his throat, his stomach warning him it was too much. To much to see. To much to regret.

'I'm sorry.' The elven prince wanted to say outloud but couldn't. He had no right to apologize for what he have done, no right to ask for forgiveness.

He knew this. He had known even before committing the crime and yet, somehow, any logical thought had been consumed by anger. He had been possessed by it, by the feeling those images still burning in the back of his mind, aroused in him. Jealousy. Anger. Hate.

Legolas turned around once again, knowing if he didn't, he would never be able to rise and leave. And he needed to leave. He had to go and ask for help. But he couldn't just walk to the doors in the state he was in and ask the guards outside. What would they say when they saw him? What would they do when they found out what he had done? And they would find out. Legolas’ body was a walking confession of it. He could tell that much.
His forearms, neck and chest were covered in scratches and his face, he was sure, carried a few bruises, all marks of the unwillingness of his partner. There was semen and blood, dried on his skin too, his hair was disarranged as well and a few strands had been pulled out from his scalp during the struggle to now lay there, on the bed, between the unresponsive fingers of his victim.

His victim... would die of shame if anyone were to found out what happened. So no, Legolas couldn't let the guards know, couldn't let anyone know. This had to die with them and it would died, on his part, rather sooner than later.
There was no way to undo the past, no way to make amends on the future.

The elven prince sat on the edge of the bed and look at the window. The sun was rising from the horizon. It's light, illuminating all that it touched, enunciating the end of the night, the arrival of a new day. But not for him. All Legolas could see were the events of last night. So clear, so vivid. Displaying in front of his eyes, over and over again.


Last night, he had been pacing the floor of his chambers like a caged animal. His father had ordered two of his best guards to stop him should he try to leave his room, no doub, to prevent him from running off to Thorin.
The dwarf prince had been captured and would probably receive death by his father's hand before the day ended. Legolas had no doubt of it. His father loathed Thorin with all his heart, he had made that clear plenty of times. And if that wasn't enough, the hatred he saw in his eyes when he found them on the cave under the waterfall, spoke volumes of what he wanted to do with him. Or so he thought back then.

Legolas was about to go mad trying to figure out how to get past the guards without that implicating him hurting them, when suddenly, he heard Galion's voice informing them the King's orders had changed.

'You no longer have to prevent the prince from leave his chambers. He is free to do as he pleases.' Had been his words and they weren't a good sign.

Maybe his father had already killed Thorin and that was why he no longer cared if Legolas went and tried to see him. Maybe he wanted him to see him so he knew the dwarf prince would never again come back for him. The young elf shivered at the thought.

He didn't loved Thorin in the same way he loved his father. It was truth, he craved the dwarf's touch almost as much as he did the older elf's, but the feeling that came along with said touch was different. It was love nevertheless, just of a different kind.
With Thorin he could relate, he could feel pleasure without guilt, he could explore what he wanted and go beyond it. With him he felt understood and supported, and maybe even more important, he felt wanted. But no matter how much better Thorin had the power to make him feel, he would always come after his father.
His father was his everything, always had been, and deep down Legolas knew nothing the older elf could do to hurt him, would change what he felt for him. Not really. He had been angry to the point of almost hating him when Thorin found him on the woods. By the Valars, he was even more angry with him after hearing he had let the dwarves to perish in the fight against that dragon. And if Thranduil had hurted Thorin now, more than he already had by that action, or rather by the lack of it, Legolas would never forgive him. But he would still love him. He knew it, because despite all the hurt and the insults, he simply didn't know how not to love him.

But that, however, was not the time for that sort of feeling. Now, if by any miracle Thorin was still alive, he needed to be strong and the angriest the better, to confront his father.

So as soon as he heard Galion leave, he rushed out of his chambers and past the guards, towards the throne room, where he was certain his father would be if he intended to harm Thorin or, the Valars forbid it, execute him. But that, apparently, wasn't what the Elvenking had in mind, for he was nowhere to be seen there.
Could it be then that they were still on the dungeons? Is wasn't like his father to remain there longer than strictly necessary, but maybe Thorin was there and he could convince the guards he had the King's permission to see him. Legolas hoped that would be the case, but as he descended the staircase to the cells, that option became less and less likely.

There were no prisoners there and no guards either. How could that be? What was his father planing? Had he truly killed Thorin already? Was he about to? and if he were, where were they?!
The only other option at that time of night, were the King's personal chambers. Thorin wouldn't be there, of course, but his father might. Legolas knew it was a bad idea to disturb his rest after everything that had happened that afternoon, but something was very odd about the whole situation and the elven prince was fearing, now more than before, that it would already be too late to plead for Thorin's life. Still. He had to try.

When he knock on the familiar doors and no reply came, however, his fear became worst.
The elven prince asked the guards at the entrance of the room and all they said was that the King hadn't left his chambers after he retired to rest, much early that night. At hearing this, Legolas let himself in but then, just as he suspected, the older elf wasn't there.
The answer was simple, the elven prince realized. Thranduil leaving the room but not through the front door, indicated he had used his chambers' hidden passage. A passage to a secret line of tunnels, know only by the King, his most trusted friend, Galion, and himself, that lead, among other destinations, to the isolation cell.
That was where his father was. That was were Thorin was.

So first, Legolas stepped outside and told the guards he would speak with his father alone and they shall not be disturbed. Then, he went back into the room, headed to the secret door inside and through it, to the tunnels.

It didn't took him long to get to the final corridor before the entrance of the isolation cell and he didn't even realized he had been running through the dark passages until the voices made him stop in a halt. They were still distants but he recognized them nevertheless.

Thorin sounded like he was in distress but... there was something else, not in his words, for the elven prince couldn't quite understand them in the distance, but on his tone. He seemed... nervous?
And then there was his father's voice, which he knew better than any other sound in the world, and he sounded angry, but also, and mostly, he sounded disgusted and regretful.
His velvet voice was a magnet, pulling Legolas closer to the hidden entrance of the cell. But once he was there, the words he could now understand, made him stop in his tracks and his blood ran cold.

"Thranduil, open up your mouth. Or at least... stick out your tongue if you don't want to swallow it at once." Thorin was saying, no, he was growling with impatience and Legolas was sure he must have misheard him because... what could he possibly mean by the that sentence?

"You truly are sick, Thorin." He heard his father reply as he reached the entrance, covered entirely for some sort of tapestry.

"Is doing this really so hard for you that you would rather lost your son's love for ever?" Came the dwarf prince's threatening tone and just what on earth were they talking about?

Legolas needed to know, and for that, he needed to see what was happening on the other side of that damn tapestry. If not, his mind would just keep imagining impossible scenarios where that kind of exchanged words would have meaning.
As he skimmed the piece of cloth looking for any hole to see through, he kept hearing them discuss about something apparently humiliating that Thranduil had agreed to but couldn't quite do. He heard Thorin say no one would know and his father reply that he would know and never forget and then, just as he saw a gap in the dense lattice of the tapestry, the dwarf prince's voice resonated and his words made his heart skip a bit.

"Then leave! ...Or stay and swallow me." He said and Legolas couldn't believe his ears and as he looked through the hole, he couldn't believe his eyes either.

There they were. Thorin, standing by the bed, fur vest discarded and forgotten on top of the covers, tunic opened all the way down, and if lower more of his clothes, perhaps his pants, were also opened and revealing tan skin, Legolas couldn't see because there was his father, kneeled- kneeled! In front of Thorin, his head at level with the dwarf prince's crotch and really... there was no misunderstanding the situation, not doubt at all about what was happening before his eyes.

A few words were exchanged after that and then Thorin was taking himself if hand, because what else could he be doing when his hand disappeared between his hips and the Elvenking's head? And then his father was moving his head forwards.

Legolas couldn't stop himself from gasping at the sight, his heart speeding to an abnormal rate, every bone of his body, starting to shake as if trying to crawl out of his skin. His father was... taking Thorin in his mouth. The elven prince felt sick at the thought and when he saw Thorin, the one he had come to trust so much, the one he wanted to save, to protect, the one he had come to love, thrusting his hips forwards, deeper into the offered mouth, he knew he should leave.
He should turn around and leave, try to forget what he saw, what he felt, for his father, for Thorin, maybe even forget his home, forget Mirkwood. Put the past behind and with it his feelings. But he couldn't.
He couldn't even blink. Not when his eyes had gone dry and tears began to form in them. Nor when the sight started breaking his heart into so many pieces he knew there would be no way of fixing it after.

A few more words Legolas didn't quite got, were exchanged, and then he heard Thorin grunt his father's name between clenched teeth. Then, it all became clear for the prince. The truth had been right in front of him all the time but he had been too blind to see it.
The unrequited love Thorin mentioned the first time they got together on that mountain, that impossible love the dwarf prince couldn’t let go, was no other that his father.

Thorin had told him that he reminded him of the person he could never have, implied that they were so alike in the outside and yet not similar at all in the inside. It should have been obvious then, of whom he was talking about. But it hasn't.
The dwarf prince's secret made Legolas' heart ache. But his father's betrayal, made his heart crave for the sweet numbness only death could promise.

Thranduil always said he hated dwarves and, after Erebor, he made clear that he loathed Thorin specially. So how come he was now... doing this with him? Letting him... do that to him?

A slapping sound brough Legolas back from his thoughts and when he realized what its source had been, he had to conciently press his lips tight to prevent himself from making any noise.
Had Thorin slapped his father's cheek with his member? Had his father allowed such thing?!
The elven prince wanted to scream in despair, in hurt, in rage...

He didn't leave but he didn't registered much after that.
He saw Thorin grab his father's hair for leverage to pull his head back and forwards to meet the thrust of his hips, slaming his member in and out of his waiting mouth. He heard his father complain at this point. Say he couldn't keep going, that it was enough. He heard the dwarf prince respond it wouldn't be enough until his seed were spilled down his throat. And then he saw them going through with that.

Thranduil made a noise of discomfort and soon Thorin's movements became more and more violent, more and more erratic, the muscles of his abdomen, at least the ones Legolas could see, tensed and then he was releasing his seed. He knew the dwarf's expression when he reached his climax well enough, and this was the one. immediately after, the elven prince heard choking sounds and knew his father was having trouble swallowing the load. Then that was it...

Legolas knew the pain and hurt he had felt were still there, somewhere, but he simply couldn't found them within his heart anymore. At some point, as the scene displayed before him, as he saw the love of his life give himself to other like he had never given himself to him, hurt became hatred, and pain became blind rage.

So he left the dark passage, walked the long tunnels all the way back to their entrance on his father's chambers, and there, he waited.

Chapter Text

The image of his father kneeling in front of the dwarf prince, taking him on his mouth... the obscene sounds filling the room as Thorin's member went in and out of the wet cavern... the stink of sweat, of sex, that he had been able to smell even through the thick tapestry... every single signal his senses captured from that scene... everything, would stay with him forever. Craved in soul like a scar, or worse, growing inside it like worms would grown on an open wound. Infesting his thoughts, his feelings. Moving around inside, never resting, never letting him heal. Legolas knew it wouldn't take long before the infection spread through his whole body. And he was already starting to feel the symptoms of it.

He wasn't pacing the floor like a caged animal waiting for the opportunity to attack his master. Neither was his heart racing or his breathing accelerating before the confrontation he knew was coming. No. His symptoms were not of the noticeable type at all and, perhaps, that was worse.
As he waited for his father's return on the darkness of the Elvenking's chambers, if anyone entered the room and saw the prince there, they would think he was patiently waiting for his father, to discuss a matter not more urgent than the weather outside. Because yes, Legolas appeared to be that calm, at peace even. But deep inside, a rage he never imagined himself capable of feeling, was making his blood boil.

If he felt hurted earlier that night, sad to the point of braking, he was certainly not feeling that way anymore. In his heart, there was only room for anger and nothing but anger now. And what he planned on doing with it, well, he told himself he didn't know but, perhaps, he had known all along.

When he heard his father open the secret door from the other side, Legolas’ feets moved on his own accord and he quickly stepped into the nearest dark corner of the room, his body going very still against the wall as his breathing became as soundless as physically possible. Still, he wasn’t expecting to truly deceive the older elf. This was his father, after all, and he would normally notice a fly on his wall, a minuscule stain on his carpet. Would he really not see his son standing in a corner of his room? He found the idea ridiculous, laughable even.

And so it was in profound disbelief that he saw Thranduil entering his chambers and crossing the space without noticing his presence. It didn't make any sense. Not until he took in the older elf's distress, in his hurried steps, saw him entering his private bathroom and then, heard him emptying the contents of his stomach.



Legolas couldn't know this by the sound of it, but as soon as Thranduil reached the toilet, he sank to his knees in front of the artefact, hold onto the edge with one hand and bringing the other to his lips, inserted two fingers inside his mouth.
He had never done something like that but he had needed it out, Thorin's seed. Out of his system just as much as he needed the memory of how it ended there in the first place, out his mind.
He coughed a couple of times when his stomach told him there was nothing more to expel and indeed, nothing more came out. But he still felt... stained, corrupted, dirty. And it wasn’t the smell of vomit or even the taste of it on his mouth. No, it was still Thorin. He needed to wash any traces of the dwarf prince, off his skin, off his soul. So he stood up with difficulty and went to fill the bathtub.

Thranduil couldn't remember when was the last time he prepared his own bath, if he had ever done such a thing. But in the situation he was now in, calling a servant was out of question, and besides, he couldn't care less about warm water or aromatic salves at this point. All he wanted was to clean his skin, and for that, just regular water would do an acceptable job. Or so he hoped.
At the end, no matter how roughly he scrubbed his skin, how desperately, he couldn’t really wash off the memory of Thorin and what they had done just minutes ago. But maybe the alcohol he ingested earlier that night could.

It didn’t feel like it was over but it was, it was done. He had made Legolas see the true nature of his beloved dwarf’s heart. He had made sure the prince were there when he offered himself in exchange for Thorin ending things with his son and he had seen him agreed and take what was there before him. Just flesh, any flesh could satisfy the dwarf prince's hunger. There was no loyalty in him, no love. And now Legolas knew. He had to know.
But Thranduil didn't wanted to think about him right now. About what his son must think of him after seeing what he saw. It was too painful and it was too soon.

The Elvenking didn't bother to dry himself after his bath. He was too tired and the excess of alcohol in his system wasn't helping the matter. He tripped over his own feet and almost fell but managed to catch his balance on the last moment. Once he recovered, he reached out for a towel, put it around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom.



Legolas didn't know how long he had been standing there, maybe just minutes, maybe more, but strangely, his feets didn't hurt from being planted there, on the same spot for however long Thranduil took in the bathroom. In fact, he couldn't even feel his feets now that he thought about it. Or any part of his body for that matter. It was as if he wasn't even there if his father didn't acknowledged his presence.
Oh but he would make him acknowledge him. He wouldn't be left standing there like decoration on the King's chambers. No, Legolas knew he had to do something, anything, and as soon as he saw his father step out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist, the decision was made for him.

Thranduil walked towards his closet to look for a robe he wouldn’t miss latter. He needed to dispose the clothes he wore that night, all of them, said robe included, throw them into the fire probably. But right now, all he wanted was to rest, close his eyes and pray for a dreamless night. If only fate were so kind.

The Elvenking was just about to open the closet’s large doors, when his eyes registered a movement at his right. He turned around as quickly as his dizzy mind allowed him but it was too late,Legolas was already on him, pinning him against the closet by the shoulders.
In the process, the towel around his waist fell to the ground and the older elf felt his face burn with shame.

"Legolas!" He said, the scold implied in his tone as he reached to cover his modesty with both hands.

The prince's eyes followed the movement and a cruel smile appeared on his face.

"Now you feel embarrassed father?" He asked as he took one of the hands by the wrist in an iron grip and pulled it aside. "When you seemed so bold while taking him into your mouth?"

The slap across his right cheek, that Thranduil delivered with his free hand, didn't even hurt him. Legolas had known real pain that night and this wasn't it. The force of the hit, however, did throw him out of balance and Thranduil took the opportunity to push him away from him, making Legolas land on the floor over his left side.

Seeing that his son was going to be down for at least a moment, the Elvenking opened the closet quickly and pulled the first clothe at hand to cover himself. Luckily a robe he could easily put on. But the young elf was on his feets faster than he anticipated and aiming a punch to his middle section.
Not having expected this, Thranduil didn't even attempt to block the hit and received the full force of it on his already delicate stomach. Coughing, he bend over, both arms folding to press the sore area in an desperate need to lessen the pain.

The mere sight before his eyes should have been enough to make Legolas stop, to make him reconsider what he was doing, what his body was attempting to do even if his mind wasn't aware of its plans yet. It should have been enough, but it wasn't.
Legolas grabbed his father by one arm and pulled him backwards, dragging him with him a couple of steps.

Thranduil stumbled over his own feets but managed to keep his balance, until suddenly, he was being turned around and pushed backwards. Then the back of his knees hit something and he felt the world spinning around him.
It was clear, after a short moment, that what they hit was the edge of his own bed, for his body fell over the soft mattress and then he was looking up at that familiar part of the ceiling he used to look when sleep wouldn't come for him at night.

"Legolas." He called as he rose on his elbows, noticing then with embarrassment, that his robe was still open and showing most of his naked body. "If you wanted to talk, this was not the way." Thranduil said, once again trying to cover his modesty.

"Oh but I'm not here to talk, father." Legolas replied as he placed one knee on the mattress and climbed the bed, making the older elf move backwards. "You thought I would want to know why, why you did it."

"No. I know you know my reasons." Thranduil answered coming to a halt when his head hit the headboard. "I needed you to see his true nature. That he-"

"That he cares for nothing beyond the pleasures of the flesh? That he never loved me?" The elven prince interrupted him. "You see, the first isn't true and the second I already knew."

"But it is, Legolas! And you still let him have you, let him use you!"

"We used each other!" Legolas growled knowing his father wouldn't understand but needing to say it out loud nevertheless.

And just as he expected, Legolas saw his father trying to understand but failing miserably. There was nothing but confusion and doubt on his face, but that was fine, Legolas told himself. Those few seconds of complete unawareness was all he needed.

"He had his way with you." The young elf said as he opened his belt and pulled it off in one quick move. "Now I'll have mine."

And Thranduil barely had time to register his son's words before it was too late.

"What are you doing?" He asked confused when Legolas grabbed his right hand forcefully.
"Legolas-" He insisted but all of the sudden, the answer became clear.

The elven prince was wrapping his belt around Thranduil's wrist to tie it, to tie him, the older elf realized and snapped his hand away.

"What has gotten into you?!" He asked once again truly at lost at his son's behavior.

But just like before, Legolas didn't answer. He just crawled closer and closer until he was straddling his father's thighs. And Thranduil shouldn't have stay frozen in place like he did, in some part of his dizzy brain he knew that. That he should be trying to escape, right in that instant, when there was still time. He knew that, and yet what he saw on his son's face wouldn't allow him to move.

In his eyes, there was nothing but pure anger and determination. And it was scary, to see such an expression, an expression meant for enemies, being directed to him. Thranduil was so focused on it that he didn't even saw Legolas' hand reaching out for his until he felt his right wrist suddenly being grabbed on an iron grip and jerked forwards.

"Nngh-" He complain at the rough pull. "Legolas, let go!" He then said recovering from the surprise as he tried to once again pull his hand away, only this time, he didn't succeed.

Legolas holded his strong grip and quickly tied the leather belt he still had in hand, around the slim wrist. Thranduil tried to stop him using his free hand and that was when he received a second punch, this time, straight to his face.

"Nnght-" he yelped when an elbow connected with his jaw and made him bite his tongue in the process. The blow, in combination with the alcohol already affecting his system, making the world spin around him all over again.

Legolas hadn't mean to hit him hard but he would be a fool if he let the opportunity of having his father momentarily defenseless, pass.
So he finished the knot around the older elf's right wrist and took his still free hand to tie them together.

"You think that hurted, father?" He said as he lifted the now tied arms and pushed them backwards against the bed's headboard. "Try having your heart teared apart for both, the one you love and the one you trust."

"L-egolas..." The Elvenking tried still feeling the sharp pain of the bite on his tongue. "I only-"

"No." Legolas interrupted him as he finished tying both arms to one of the metal bars of the headboard. "I don't care why you did it. All I care about is that you kneeled before him and took him on your mouth." He said with despite grabbing the older elf's chin with fingers like claws. "The same mouth that called me a whore so many times. The same mouth that deprived me of a simple kiss for so long." Legolas finished, planting a kiss on his father's lips.

And this, Thranduil did see coming. His son's eyes had been lingering on his lips more times that night than in their entire lives. But it was sick, the Elvenking thought. To kiss Legolas when the memory of the dwarf was clearly so present in both their minds.
So when Legolas’ lips had barely touched his, he turned his head to the side, as well as his gaze, because how could he? How could he kiss his son now with such a dirty mouth? How could his son even want that? He wondered in silence. Out loud he only said:

"It's wrong Legolas. As it was what I- did with Thorin, what I allowed him to do."

"Did you hated it?" Legolas blurted out, enraged at his father's reject but feeling tempted to make him suffer in anyway he could. "Taking Thorin, I mean."

And at hearing this Thranduil couldn't help but to turn his face again and look at his son in horror and mortification.

"Of course I did!" He growled, becoming more and more aware of the position he was in with every passing second.

"Are you sure you didn't enjoy it? Not even one bit?" Legolas asked as one of his hands traveled down the older elf's chest and abdomen, opening the barely closed robe covering his naked body underneath. "The heat of his flesh... the taste of his seed on your tongue?"

And Thranduil couldn't take it. How much more humiliation would he have to stand that night?

"Enough, Legolas!" He growled as he tried to break free, making his wrists hurt but also making the bed's headboard tremble. "I've tolerate enough of you and that- disgusting dwarf, for tonight. No, for a lifetime, I would say." He continued, glad that he had at least made the young elf stop his advances on his body. "Now you may disapprove my methods but I am your father and your King, so-"

"Do you think he enjoyed it?" Legolas interrupted him as if he hadn't heard a word of what he just said.

"What?" Thranduil asked confused.

"It's a simple question. You said you hated it... but do you think Thorin enjoyed it?"

"I couldn't care less Legolas. Now untie me, right-"

"Would you like to know?" Legolas suddenly asked and Thranduil's blood ran cold.

He wanted to ask 'what in the name of the Valars was that supposed to mean?' but he was afraid of the answer. And for the first time in his life, he was afraid of his son.

"I said-" Legolas went on, not giving him time to think, to try to elaborate a plan to escape this situation. "Would you like to know if Thorin enjoyed it?" He repeated.

And Thranduil was about to yell 'no', no he didn't want to know. But it was too late. Legolas, who had been stradlig the older elf's hips and leaning over him, their chests almost touching, rose in both arms and was already moving one of his legs back to place it between his father's thighs.

But when the young elf moved, some stray locks of his hair touched Thranduil's face and the King saw an opportunity he had to take. So he tugged at the belt binding his wrists with all his strength, feeling the leather starting to cut his skin, and managed to grasp a few locks.
Legolas made a pained sound when he felt his hair being pulled but Thranduil didn't let go.

"Listen to me Legolas." He said in a warning tone. "This- nonsense, has continued long enough. You're angry and I understand that, but you don't want to do something you would regret for the rest of eternity." He finished, letting go at his son's hair, unintentionally, pulling off the few strands tangled on his fingers.

"You don't want me to do something I'll regret but you're too latte." Legolas replied suddenly looking sad and miserable for the first time that night. "I regret following you in secret into the forest that afternoon you decided to bath on the waterfall and I regret everything after that. I shouldn't have done what I did with Thorin and I shouldn't have follow you here, to home, after that."


"No, even more than that, I regret not letting that orc hit me in the middle of the heart with that poisoned arrow."

"Enough Legolas! Don't ever say something like that again!" Thranduil growled.

"Why? Is true and... soon enough you would wish it had happened too." Legolas said and his expression became cold once more. Full of rage and... want, Thranduil realized when he felt the young elf's hand traveling down his body once more.

"Legolas..." He said again in a warning voice.

Still, the young prince didn't stopped. He moved lower on the bed and tried to part his father's legs. But Thranduil wouldn't allow it.

"Stop this already!" He growled trying to kick his son away, to throw him off of him.

Legolas tried to hold him down but his father was strong, even in the position he was in, stronger than him, and when one of the older elf's knees connected with his face, the force of it almost threw him out of the bed. But it didn't.
The elven prince regain his balance just in time and in one quick move, took out the dagger he kept hidden in his right boot.

"Stay still!" He growled between clenched teeth, pointing the sharp blade at his father's inner thigh.

And Thranduil stopped, but his eyes were defiants.

"You wouldn't hurt me, Legolas." He said faking amusement, trying to forget the fact that his son had already punched him two times that night.

"You don't know what I'm capable of tonight." Came Legolas' reply and even his voice sounded different to the Elvenking's hears.

"I know you wouldn't-" Thranduil started but a sharp pain in his thigh, close to his groin, made him stop.

He bite his already sore tongue to prevent himself from making any sound but the grimace on his face was enough to let the prince know how much he was hurting.

"I'm sorry." Legolas said covering the bleeding wound with a handkerchief he always carried within his garments and applying a little pressure. "But I will do what I'm set out to do tonight."

And Thranduil couldn't believe it. That Legolas was capable of purposely hurt him like he did. Without second thoughts, without real regret.

"Now..." The prince continued as he pointed the dagger at Thranduil's belly, completely exposed, as it was too the rest of his body since their previous struggle. "Spread your legs or the next cut would really hurt." He finished, tracing the soft skin with the silver blade.

It made a shiver run down the Elvenking's spine. What would Legolas do to him? And why wasn't he fighting it harder?
Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the fact that he was so tired, but... no, it wasn't that. It was just that he wanted all to be over already.
So Thranduil obeyed. He didn't know what Legolas would do but, could it really be that much worse than what he himself had already done that night? He thought not.

And so he parted his legs and watched Legolas position himself between them. Then go lower and lower, on the bed and... just what on earth was his son doing? His face was now almost at level with his- 'Oh, no-' Thranduil thought only then realizing what was about to happen.

"Noo, Legolas, stop!" He rushed to say but it was too late. Just as the words left his mouth, his son's tongue was descending on him.

"Nngh-" Thranduil growled feeling the wet muscle licking tentatively his flaccid member.

"I've never imagine you could taste this good." Legolas said, stopping momentarily only to continue more enthusiastically.

He didn't know what he was doing but he was discovering that he liked it. Having his father in this way, teasing him, tasting him, his flavour, the little shivers, he loved it all. And he wanted more.

"P-please, Legolas... stop." He heard the older elf say but couldn't take the words seriously.

Although his father wasn't completely hard yet, he wasn't as soft as seconds ago, which meant that, in a way, he was enjoying what was being done to him. He just needed to lose himself in the feeling. So Legolas decided to take the matter in his own hands, in the literal sense of the expression, and this, this he had done before.
He put the dagger away but still close to his reach, and taking Thranduil's member in hand, started to massage the still quite soft flesh.

"Did you get hard when he was ravishing your mouth?" He asked before giving one long, more confident lick that went from the base to the tip.

"F-course n-not..." Thranduil replied, voice trembling, not being able to hide how much the young elf's treatment was affecting him.

"Why not? I'm getting aroused by doing this."

"Don't- please."

"Don't what?" He asked amused. "Don't do this or don't talk about it?"

"Both Legolas!" Thranduil growled growing impatient feeling his own body betray him.

But of course, his son paid no mind to his wishes. He only chuckled and continued as if it was the most normal thing to do.

Legolas was moving his hand up and down his member, something they had done in the past month quite a few times really, but never like this. Now, Legolas was being... rougher, less patient or considerate. His fingers were wrapped around him in an almost too tight fist and his movements were rushed, desperate. But the worst, by far, was having him doing to him what he had done to the dwarf.

Because it had been humiliating for him, having to kneel before someone and take him, take another male on his mouth, so disgusting and so degrading, that he had never wanted to hear about Legolas going through the same, let alone see him going through it. But now he was. His son was doing something like this by choice, and to his own father of all people. And he was watching.
Thranduil couldn't take it anymore. It was too much, the sight of him, the touch of that skilled hand, the way his tongue was lapping at his member, going from its base to the tip and swirling around the head.

'By the Valars...' He thought, biting his bottom lip so he wouldn't yell that out loud when Legolas touched a erogenous spot he never knew he had.

It was on the upper part of his shaft, apparently, just where the head began. Legolas' tongue traced that thin juncture and he saw stars pasing before his eyes.

"Well you seemed to enjoy that." Legolas commented repeating the action, this time, gaining a frustrated groan from the older elf as reply. "Should I take this to the next level?" He asked and Thranduil didn't even had time to think before he was being swallowed for that sinful mouth.

"Aahh..." He moaned as he felt Legolas' lips closing around his member, his tongue molding to its shape and size. "L-legolas..." He pleaded.

But the young elf wasn't listening, he was too focused on the task before him. Focused on taking as much of his father as he could without choking, on breathing through his nose while sucking the now fully hard member, focused on keep moving his hand over the base of that length and at the same time, making the same with his head because by the Valars, his father seemed to love it.
When he moved his head up and down on him, pulling out almost completely only to take him deeper right after, Thranduil growled with want and his hips trembled. He was clearly trying to hold back and Legolas wasn't about to stop him. He was done trying to make his father accept him and accept that their feelings were mutual. This night wasn't for him, it was for himself. And he had no intentions of holding back.

So Legolas pulled away from Thranduil's member, glad to hear a small sound of complain coming from his mouth, most likely involuntary, and to see that he had at least made him drop that cold, heartless façade that was so his.
Now his father seemed completely ravished, his naked body glowing with small drops of sweat, his golden, always perfectly brushed hair, now disarranged, and his cheeks, reddish with exhaustion, perhaps also shame. It was a beautiful sight, he thought.

"So you see, father?" Legolas said with a smile that didn't quite reached his eyes. "This is how much pleasure you gave Thorin tonight."

"Are you done making your point?" Thranduil surprised him by asking. "If so, untie me and leave. I have no wishes of keep seeing your face."

And the Elvenking wasn't lying or trying to be cruel. He honestly couldn't keep looking at his son right now without seeing him on his elbows taking him on his mouth. It was madness. He was becoming mad.

"Did you hear what I said?" He insisted when the young elf didn't reply or move.

"Yes, I did." Legolas finally said as he slowly rose and got on his knees. "But I'm not nearly done making my point, as you say."

"What else do you want from me Legolas?" The Elvenking asked when he saw his son starting to remove his clothes and moving closer to him once again. "Have I not given you everything I could? Everything I had?"

"You have, Thranduil." Legolas replied and this time it was the older elf who was surprised, at hearing his son call him by his name.

"But perhaps you made me suffer so much for it that now I'm simply... done suffering." The prince continued. "Perhaps now is my turn to hurt you." He finished and Thranduil knew by the look in his eyes that a decision had been made.

"Legolas stop." He pleaded watching his son taking two fingers to his mouth as he moved on top of him until he was straddling his hips. "Get off, right now, we can still put this night behind us."

"Nn-o." He replied, momentarily pulling the fingers out to speak. "I don't want that, not yet."

He finished and swallowed the digits once more, pulled them out again and licked them until they were soaking wet. And just what was he about to do this time? Thranduil was at lost.
But then Legolas rose a bit more, reached behind himself and it all became clear.

"No, Legolas, dont!" Thranduil growled feeling his heart racing.

"Mmm- better- keep it down un-less you want company." The young elf said trying to keep his voice steady despite the discomfort he was feeling.

He had learnt this from Thorin, how to open himself, how to prepare himself for penetration. Now he wasn't as skilled as the dwarf prince was but this would have to do. He wasn't getting much further than perhaps one inch beyond the tight ring of muscle, but his father had started to move above him, trying to throw him off, clearly, and so he needed to hurry.

"Do you want it to hurt for me?" He asked frustrated, quickly licking his fingers again but this time to wrap them around the older elf’s length.

"Nnhh- let go!" Thranduil protested, his already painfully hard member disagreeing with his brain and twitching with interest.

"It doesn't seem like that's really what you want." His son commented with half a smile.

And Thranduil needed to do something and fast or Legolas would drag them both to a point from which there was no return.

"Legolas, please!" He tried again. "This- this is where we conceived you, your mother and me." He said, his eyes filling with tears at the memory of his wife.

And that at least made his son stop. So he went on.

"This is also where she gave birth to you, with me right here by her side. I remember that day so clearly, Legolas. I was so scared, but she wasn't. She was so calm and at peace."

"Stop it-" Legolas said, voice full of pain and so much regret.

But Thranduil didn't. If this memories of their family were what Legolas needed to remember how much they had lost and what little they had left to treasure and protect, then he would give him precisely that.

"This is where we named you. Our little leaf, Legolas. It sounded so special, your name coming from her lips. But the best sound in the world for us was you laugh."

"Don't, please-"

"And it still is for me Legolas. I love you just as much as the day I first hold you in my arms." Thranduil finished, tears rolling down his face, voice cracking with emotion.

And Legolas was no better, he could see that. That he was hurting. But when his son's eyes finally dared to search his, the words 'I'm sorry', were written on them, and that's how Thranduil knew he had failed in saving what was left of them.


"Ionin, please..." He tried one last time when Legolas placed a hand on his belly for support and grabbed at his member with the other.

But the prince didn't answer this time. He simply aligned the hard length to his entrance and impaled himself on it, making a pained sound when he felt it tearing him inside.

"Nnngh..." Thranduil growled when his son's heat swallowed him.

Legolas was so tight and warm that it was almost painful. But Thranduil hadn't feel anything like it in centuries and his body was deciding that it liked it. And it only made things worse because, how could he even been feeling anything? He shouldn't be. He was the worst kind of father, of husband.

He felt Legolas move a little up and he cursed under his breath. 'Stop, please stop.' He then begged, no out loud, not anymore. But in his mind, in his heart. He just wanted to stop feeling, to stop thinking. And then his son went down again.

"Nnngh... Th-thranduil..." Legolas moaned starting to rock his hips up and down at a slow pace, keeping both hands at the older elf's chest for support.

It was sick, to see his son like that, riding him so… passionately, muscles tense, limbs trembling, and an expression he had never seen on his face. Something between pleasure and pain that he was sure, no father was meant to see in their own child's face, and he knew he would never forget.
So he looked down, away from Legolas' face, but it had been a mistake. Now, he could see where their bodies joined, he could see himself buried inside his son, a trail of blood coming from his entrance and running down his member.

"It d-doesn't hurt that bad, my King." Legolas said, clearly having followed his gaze.

And it didn't go unnoticed for Thranduil, first, that his son was lying, he was clearly in pain, and second, that this was the third time that he avoided calling him father. The question was why, was it for him or for himself?

"Hush..." Legolas said bringing him back from his thoughts. "I can almost hear you thinking so just... stop and be here with me, feel me..." He finished, changing the speed and force in which he impaled himself in Thranduil.

And suddenly, he was moaning out loud because now his father's member was hitting something inside him that made his eyes roll back.

"Aaaaaah... Ada!" Legolas growled in pleasure, forgetting that he had decided not to call his father as such, just like the older elf had ask him in previous occasions.

Thranduil, on his part, bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from making any noise because Legolas' walls were contracting around him and, by the Valars he wanted to move.
He unconsciously pulled at the belt binding his wrists, needing to do something with his arms, either push Legolas off or grab him by the hips to hold him in place while thrusting deeper into him, he didn't quite know. But it didn't matter, the leather now starting to cut into his skin wasn't giving him the choice anyway. It was torturous.

"Nnnnngh... A-da, move." Legolas begged. "I can- feel you want to." He said.

But Thranduil couldn't. This was... his son, his child, Legolas. He couldn't consent this by participating or he would never forgive himself. And his son... well he have to believe that he would be able to forgive him someday but, truth be told, he wasn't so sure about that.

So Thranduil closed his eyes and let the tears he had been holding back, roll down his cheeks. He tried to remain still and he did, for the most part, but his heart was racing and his breathing, accelerating. He recognized the signals.

"I'm- aaaaah... I’m close, Ada-" Legolas said as if he had planned it.

Thranduil bit his lip once again when he felt his voice about to betray him, but his son didn't.
The prince moaned loud when he took himself in hand, stroking his member once, twice, and he was there. Thranduil felt Legolas clench around him and his eyes opened just in time to see his son shooting his seed across his chest, some of it even hitting his neck and chin. And it was impossible, for his own orgasm not to follow after that.
The Elvenking's hips rose from the mattress on their own volition, every one of his muscles tensed and he begun to shoot his own seed inside his son's body.

Then, it was over.

Chapter Text

The sun was rising on the horizon. It's light, illuminating all it touched, enunciating the end of the night, the arrival of a new day. But not for him. All Legolas could see were the events of last night. So clear, so vivid. Displaying in front of his eyes, over and over again.
He didn't noticed he was crying until an unexpected nock on the door brought him back from his thoughts and an sob escaped his lips.

"My lord, may I come in?" Came Galion's voice from the other side and Legolas froze.

He needed to think in something and fast. It didn't matter to him if they were to found out what he’ve done and took him to the dungeons, by the Valars, they could execute him this afternoon if they wanted for all he cared, but his father... His father would die of shame if what transpired last night came to light.

"My King? Are you alright?" Galion pressed after a moment, when no answer came.

Legolas needed to reply. It would be odd for him to be in his father's chambers at this early hours but it would be even odder if the soldier where to come in and see them in bed. Yes, he needed to prevent him and anyone from entering the room.
Legolas cleared his throat in the quietest way possible and was about to speak but, suddenly, he no longer had to.

"I'm fine Galion." Came his father's voice from behind him on the bed and Legolas whole world stopped.

"I'll see to whatever matter that requires my attention later. You may leave." He said and his tone was definitive. An order. His voice as firm and steady and strong as ever. Like nothing had changed, like nothing had happened.

Legolas only needed to turn around to see that it had.

It was his eyes, the prince realized with deep sorrow. Thranduil's eyes were giving his emotions away or, worse yet, the lack of such.
Legolas had grown to read his father's very soul just from his eyes. He had seen love, happiness, joy, contempt, anger, hate, even disappointment in quite a number of different grades, reflected on those eyes. But now... now he saw none of those feelings. Those blue, almost translucent eyes were empty. And it terrified him.

"A-ada?" Legolas barely managed to say. His whole body was petrified and so were his throat, his tongue, his vocal cords. He was scared of facing what he had done, of discovering that the father he knew so well and loved so much it hurted, had died last night. That he had killed him and now all that laid before him was an empty shell.

"Ada, please..." He heard himself saying altho what exactly was he pleading for he didn't know.

But then his father replied and Legolas wish he hadn't said anything in the first place.

"Leave, Legolas." Came his voice and, just like his eyes, it carried nothing. No anger, no rage, no hate. Nothing. It was empty.

Tears started rolling down the young elf's cheeks again. Tears he had no right to spill in front of the older elf because he had brought this upon himself, upon both of them. He was no victim, he was a murderer who took in his stride his own father's life and if someone was entitled to cry it was him.
He had been absorbed by the flames of the destructive fire that was the prince's passion for him and had been consumed by it, in body and soul. These tears were his to spill.
So why? Why wasn't he crying? Or screaming in anger if he rather do that? Why wasn't he at least spilling his hate on the one who had done that to him? Why was Thranduil just lying there?! Eyes empty... voice empty... body motionless, abandoned, tangled still on sheets he should be wanting to burn. Why?!

"Ada please... say something." Legolas pleaded, asking for words when he was really begging for emotions. For any emotion to return to the older elf's features.

When no response came, he continued, turning his body from where he sat on the edge of the bed, a little towards his father.

"Say I disappointed you, that I betrayed your trust, by the Valars say you hate me but please! just say some-"

"Leave, Legolas." Came Thranduil's severe reply. Emotionless, yes, but terminant. Not a father's request, but rather a King's order.

Legolas knew then it was over. His father wanted nothing more to do with him. He didn't want to love him, but wouldn't hate him either. He no longer wanted to punish him to try to correct him, he no longer cared. He could disappear now and the older elf would feel nothing but relieved.

Yes. Probably that was the only thing he could still do for his father. Not to make amends, without a doubt not to make things right either, that was beyond his reach now. But to make things easier for him, if only just a little.
It was decided then. Leaving his father's chambers that morning would be the hardest thing, the most unbearable thing he would do in his life, but for him, he will do it.

So he rose from the bed, his trembling legs carrying him to where his forgotten clothes laid on the floor, and with shaking hands he dressed as best as he could in the minimal of time. He quickly passed his fingers through his hair and that was all the attention his disarranged locks were going to have if only so they wouldn't draw too much attention and raise suspicions.
And just like that, all too soon, the prince had no more excuses to remain there, to keep forcing his father to tolerate his presence. It was time to go.

"Goodbye father." Legolas said compelling his voice not to brake and his eyes to keep the tears inside.

He took one last look at the older elf and instantly knew it had been a mistake. This was not the way he wanted to remember him. This was not the image of him he wanted to see last when death came to claim him. But now it would be. He was certain of that.
It was probably what he deserved, he told himself as he walked away and out of the King's chambers. The door never being so far away, never being so heavy, as it was when he reached out and pushed it open. And then he walked through it, and closed it behind him.

The hardest part was over.


"Legolas!" He heard Tauriel call after him when he was about to enter his chambers.

"My prince, I've been looking for you." She said with clear concern on her voice, walking in a hurry to where he stood on the corridor.

"What is it Tauriel?" The Elvenprince asked, trying hard to keep all his sorrow and pain out of his own voice and out of his face.

She seemed to notice something was amiss with him, but chose not to comment on it. Instead she said:

"I'm afraid the dwarf... I- I mean your friend, Legolas-" She said correcting herself in mid sentence, clearly afraid of having offended her prince by referring to his lover, as she obviously thought of Thorin after seeing them together behind the waterfall, by his race rather than by his name or what he was to Legolas. And yet she didn't quite dare to call him his lover either. Legolas could understand that.

"I'm afraid he has scape, my prince." She quickly continued. "Galion said he would inform your father first thing in the morning but he already has guards looking for him. I-"

"Tauriel!" Legolas interrupted her abruptly. "You must go to Galion and tell him to cancel the search. Thorin didn't scape, he was given back his freedom by the King himself. It's important that you tell Galion that and that you tell him not to mention the matter to my father again. Never. The name of that dwarf must not reach the King's ears ever again."

Tauriel was speechless for a moment but she quickly overcame the confusion and said:

"Of course, Legolas. I'll find him and tell him right away."

"Please do. Oh and Tauriel... that dwarf has nothing to do with me anymore." Legolas felt the sudden need to confess, pure anger spilling through his words. "He has shown his true nature and it turned out it was rotten. My father was right about him, about all of them. Dwarves are nothing but despicable creatures no more capables of reason or even emotions, than the spiders we hunt down on the black forest. And just like them, if they cross to our lands, they must be put out of their misery." He finished, only then realizing how much of what he was truly feeling he had revealed through his words.

Tauriel probably knew now, Legolas thought, that Thorin had deceived him and that his was the hatred of a broken hearted lover. Yes, she was perceptive like that. All he could hope for was that she wouldn’t go further on her observations and, the Valars forbid it, realize that at the center of his and Thorin's... predicament, was no other than the Elvenking himself.

Luckily, Tauriel seemed to read the concern on Legolas' face and when she spoke again it was with warm and reassuring words.

"Say no more, my prince... Legolas, the matter with the dwarf will never come out from my lips again. It's in the past and it will remain there." She said and in her face there was no judgment whatsoever, only fondness and determination.

Legolas will really miss having her by his side.

"Thank you, Tauriel." He said feeling grateful for her. "You have been a greater friend than I could have ever deserve."

"Legolas..." Came her voice once again full of concern.

'Perceptive as ever.' Legolas thought forcing himself to smile for her, desperate to hide what was really on his heart.

"I'm fine. Now go Tauriel, find Galion."

"Yes, of course." She said, giving a nod and hurriedly walking away.

Once she was out of sight, he opened the doors to his chambers and stepped inside. He had something he wanted to do before he could finally leave.


Thranduil didn't know how much time had passed since Legolas left, but the orange light invading his room through his white curtains, indicated it was already late in the afternoon. So more than half a day, he suddenly realized, more than half a day he had simply lay there in bed. In that bed...

The sheets still smelled of Legolas and Thranduil sweared he could still feel his warmth on the mattress,which he knew was not possible of course, but still, he could almost... sense the young elf there, besides him, on top of him...
And it should be repulsive, the mere thought of it, the memories of what transpired in that bed last night. What Legolas had made him do, what he had forced him to do against his will. It made him feel used and wrong and so angry, but...

But it didn't make him want to burn his sheets like he had wanted to burn the clothes in which he went to see Thorin last night. It didn't make him want to empty his stomach to erase any taste still lingering in his tongue, or scrub his skin clean until any traces of touch would be washed away. If anything, the memory of Legolas' touch on his body were making his skin tickle in a weird way.
He hadn't appreciated the roughness. The punches his son delivered on his stomach, or the the cut he made on his inner thigh.
But the scraping of his nails on in chest, his soft tongue lapping at his member, or his warm walls spasming around him had felt... wrongfully right, Thranduil admitted burying his head on his hands after almost a whole day of his brain circling the idea and denying it, because, by the Valars he was sick!

How could he have enjoyed any of it?! What was he thinking?! This was his own son and, even if he hadn't been on the receiving end, he had been... he... hadn't concented any of it! And he hated that idea. He hated that Legolas had just took what he wanted without considering his feeling on the matter, no matter how contradictory they were. Still. He had just took and Thranduil knew that wouldn't be easy to forgive but... Thranduil wanted to forgive. And he might even wanted to- do it again.
He was truly sick, there was no other way of seeing it. Legolas craved for pain and humiliation and he craved for Legolas. They were made for eachother. And he was tired of denying it.

The light coming through the curtains was already becoming bluish, indicating the sun was setting outside, when Thranduil finally gathered the courage to get up. He had absolutely no idea of what to do, with himself, with his son, none. But he felt that the time had come, for him to let Legolas have a say in the matter.
His son was no longer the little elfling of his memories. He had grown into a strong, intelligent, beautiful and perhaps too stubborn elf, and Thranduil loved this version of him as well. He loved him. And now he needed to tell him.
Of course, that didn't mean that last night was forgotten or forgiven. It wasn't. And something like that happening again wouldn't be tolerated. But for the sake of both of them, Thranduil was prepared to look forwards and not back.

So he rose from the bed and went straight to the bathroom. He needed to take care of his natural needs and of course, even if he wasn't feeling specially dirty or disgusted with the state of his body, he still needed a bath. His hair was messy and tangled, there were dry seed on his member and on his chest, all the way up to his... neck and chin?! Was that possible?!

"By the Valars, Legolas." Thranduil said to himself and he couldn't believe it was sligh amusement what he heard on his own voice.

But he had already concluded that he was sick. Right. So there was no point in keep torturing himself over it, and he supposed that accepting that was really the biggest change of personality he had ever been capable of make.


Thranduil had just finish his bath and was dressing in a simple tunic, when a nock on the door, a little too strong and a little too hurried for his liking, caught his attention.
He finished quickly and when he opened the door, Galion's expression only confirmed his suspicions. Something was wrong.

"What happen?" Thranduil asked to the elf standing before him outside his rooms.

"It's Legolas, my King." He said clearly in distress, buy being the excellent soldier that he was, always quick for action, he spook fast and without riddles. "Tauriel reported an hour ago that she couldn't find him. We've been looking since then but we still have nothing."

It couldn't be.

"What do you mean nothing?" Thranduil asked already rushing out of his chambers making Galion follow him. "Where exactly did you look?"

"We look everywhere, my Lord, I have every soldier who isn't guarding the entrance, searching for him."

"Then they all are doing a poor job."

"My King, I-"

"His horse." Thranduil interrupted him. "What about his horse?"

"He didn't take it. That's why we thought he had to be here somewhere."

"Yes, well, lets see what else he didn't take with him." Said Thranduil finally arriving to his destination. His son's rooms.

"Galion, bring Tauriel here. I need to have a word with her." He ordered him and with that, he let himself in.


There had to be something there. Something that could bring a light to this whole matter.
The horse was a good start. It meant Legolas wasn’t planning on travelling far. But he could still have left on foot, if he was intending to take the most intricate paths of the forest, places where a horse was of little to no use.
If his son had took some clothes with him and at least one or two of his weapons, then that could be the case. But when Thranduil opened his closet to confirm that... nothing. His son's clothes were all there. Nothing was missing.

'It can only mean either that you're still here or that you're not planning on going far and you're not planning to be gone for long.' Thranduil thought, feeling a small wave of relief wash away some of his worst worries.

That was, until Tauriel came into the room.

"My King." She said and her concern was written on her face.

"Tauriel." Thranduil started walking towards her. "My son is known for losing track of the time in his lonely walks around the kingdom, and even outside in the forest. Did you know this fact?"

"Yes, my Lord, I-"

"Then why-" He interrupted her with impatience. "Why report him missing after... a few hours perhaps? What is different this time?"

"I'm sorry, my King, if I'm wrong I would have caused you an unnecessary trouble." She said looking anything but truly sorry. "But if I'm right, then something bad could have happened to Legolas."

And she seemed so certain of it, that it made Thranduil's heart race with fear.

"Explain yourself." He said sternly. And so Tauriel did.

"This morning, when I spoke with him, he seemed to be in distress. Our conversation was short but it became clear to me that he was hiding something, something that troubled his heart."

'Of course he was.' Thranduil thought but didn't say out loud.

"But, beyond that..." Tauriel continued. "... before we parted ways I had the impression that he was... saying goodbye, my King."

It couldn't be. Why?

"Why?" Thranduil did say out loud this time. "What gave you that impression?"

"Just that he said... well, he spoke of our friendship as if it were on the past. I- I just-"

"Had a feeling." Thranduil say with remorse.

He knew exactly what Tauriel was talking about because he had sensed it too. In the morning, when Legolas said goodbye to him before leaving his chambers. It had felt... permanent.

'Legolas... what have you done?' Thranduil thought feeling truly at lost.

He waved his hand indicating Tauriel she was dismiss and so Galion escorted her outside the prince' rooms. He needed to think now.
Legolas wouldn't be found if he didn't want to be found, that was for sure. But... what if he did wanted his father to go after him? What if he wanted it even if he didn't even realized. Maybe he left something for him there in case he went looking for him in his rooms.

Thranduil desperately started searching the whole room but there was nothing. He searched in his desk, in the nightstand, in the closet, even beneath the pillows and between the sheets, but there was nothing. Nothing! This wasn't working, he accepted in defeat as he sat on the edge of the bed.
He needed to think less like himself and more like Legolas. It was the only way. He needed to see through his eyes, to feel what he felt when he left...

Suddenly, Thranduil remembered the night he sneaked into this very bedroom, the night he hided inside the closet and from there, for the first time, saw Legolas under a different light.
His son had laid on his back, on his big four poster bed, completely naked, bare, without even knowing it, for his father's prying eyes. And oh, Thranduil had seen more than he expected.
He saw his son pleasuring himself while calling his name between gasps and moans, yes. But perhaps the most disturbing part, had been seeing him cry and beg for forgiveness while he did it.

Legolas had repeated 'I'm sorry, Ada... I'm so sorry.' Over and over again, voice full of sadness and eyes... looking at some invisible point above him in-

'The bed ceiling? Could it be?' Thranduil thought letting himself fall on the bed and looking up.

And there it was, pinned to the ceiling by a small dagger, well hidden between the four poster bed drapes. A letter.

Thranduil sat on the mattress, extended both arms and carefully took it. He had been right. His son had left something for him and perhaps this could help him find him.
So he opened the envelope, unfolded the letter inside, and started reading.



If you're reading this it means I was right. You were here, in my rooms, hiding in the shadows that night. The night you touched me for the first time.
I thought I heard a noise, coming from my closet perhaps? But it couldn't be, that you were in here and hiding, it wasn't like you. So I was sure it was only my imagination. As I thought it was the fact that I could smell your scent on my sheets. But then your touch woke me up that night, and I started thinking maybe I was right.
Maybe you wanted to feel close to me in any way, given we could hardly see each other without fighting those days, and so you came. And maybe that's why you're here, on my room, on my bed, once again.

I don't know how much time would have pass when you find this letter but I think that, by then, you probably already know that I'm not coming back.
I want you to know that leaving you this morning was the hardest thing I have ever done. But I hurted you, Ada, I know that and I know that nothing I could ever do would erase that pain from your heart. I don't deserve your forgiveness and would never have been worthy of it but I still need to say this...

I'm sorry, Ada. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. For all the wrong I've done to you and for all the pain I caused you. It was never my intention to break what was left of our family apart, to break us apart. Love impulsed me, but egoism directed my actions. I understand that now.

I should have thought more in you and dedicate my life to make you proud, that was all that mattered. Instead I disgraced my name and made you feel like you were disgracing yours and mother's. But you weren't, Ada, please know that.
I took advantage of your devotion as a father to have you doing things you hated. I told you I didn't know why you were agreeing to do what we were doing, and at the moment I believed that. But perhaps I knew it all along. I just didn't wanted to see it because it was easier that way. That way I didn't have to feel guilty for taking what you were offering.
But I am guilty for taking it. Me and me alone. I am the only one at fault, and I need to pay for my crimes against you.

So please, if you're still searching for me, don't. Remember me as I was, before all this... before the waterfall, before Erebor, before last night. I know I have no right to ask for anything but, please, could you do this last thing for me? Remember me as your little elfling, you're little leaf, your Legolas.

Goodbye Ada.


Thranduil finished reading, unshared tears filling his eyes, making his vision blurry, a sob threatening to escape his throat. But he couldn't cry, he couldn't. Not now. Not when Legolas needed him.

'Pay, pay, pay... but in what way?' Thranduil repeated this question in his mind as he read the letter a second time.

It was clear that Legolas hated himself for his actions the night before and that he was convinced he needed to pay for them. He had left to never return but he hadn't take anything with him, not his horse, not his weapons, not his clothes. Not one of the things one would need for a journey so...

"So you're not really... planning on going anywhere." Thranduil whispered, his eyes quickly going back to a particular sentence on the letter that caught his attention before.

~I don't deserve your forgiveness and would never have been worthy of it...~

'Would never have been...?' Thranduil realized and the tears he was holding were burning his eyes with the need to be spilled.

Legolas intended to pay for his crimes with his own life.

"By the Valars, Legolas!" Thranduil growled more scared than angry, rising from the bed, letter at hand, and rushing to the doors.

"Galion!" He said immediately gaining the full attention of the elf. "Go get ten of your best soldiers ready, and get Tauriel as well, we're leaving to the forest."

"Only ten, my King?" Galion asked and Thranduil could understand his uncertainty.

Only ten soldiers, thirteen with him, Tauriel and himself, to search through the forest at night. The chances of finding Legolas with those resources were too low. But he was confident.

"It will be enough, Galion, more would only storb us." He said already leaving to prepare himself. "Besides, I know exactly where to look now."

~Remember me as I was, before all this... before the waterfall, before Erebor, before last night...~

At first Thranduil had been at lost. He remembered what happened in Erebor, seeing Legolas with Thorin in the middle of... their little act of passion. And he remembered last night quite vividly, of course. But what did the waterfall had to do with anything?
He couldn't understand the connection at first but when he read the letter for a second time, he remembered one conversation he and Legolas had, back when their whole... kissing and... other things, were still new to them, in the peaceful days that followed to that first time in his son's

They had been kissing passionately, for hours it seemed, their lips were red and wet with the other's saliva, and their tongues were already numb. A lot of touching was involved as well and that had been all they both needed to spill their seeds inside their own clothes. Thranduil had considered the idea of asking his son to let him take a shower in his private bathroom, but then Legolas had got up from the bed, disappeared himself in the bathroom and returned with a wet piece of cloth.

"May I?" His son had said laying back besides him on the bed.

Thranduil knew what he was asking permission to do and he couldn't help the heat that he felt rising in his cheeks.

"You may." He replied a little uncertain, and instantly saw Legolas smile timidly, warmly.

His son looked down and then started to work open his tunic. His touch was soft and so very gentle, but his gaze was too intense. So much that Thranduil felt already naked without quite being it yet.

"But you may not look." He quickly added lifting his son's chin up with two fingers.

The action made Legolas smile even more, but it didn't make him stop.

"I never imagined you to be the shy type." He said, finally managing to open the the older elf's garments.

"Well I- have only been intimate with one person in my life- Legolas." Thranduil replied finding it hard to breath evenly once the wet cloth descended over his heated skin and his son's hand started cleaning him.

"I wonder what makes me worthy of this privilege then?" Legolas whispered, his eyes never leaving his father's as he traced his abdomen with the cloth, his movements slow and calculated.

It made Thranduil's skin shiver in anticipation as his body came alive once again. Was his son aware of how erotic he could be?

"You're so beautiful Ada." He heard Legolas say as he felt his hand go lower to find space between his inner thighs, deliberately avoiding to touch his hardening member in its way.

"Legolas..." Thranduil breathed out closing his eyes because by the Valars! At this rate his son will have him finish for the second time in less than two hours.

"I remember the first time that I thought so, that you were beautiful." Legolas continued as he cleaned the sensitive skin. "The day I realized."

And Thranduil was finding it hard to stay focused, but it felt important, what Legolas was clearly trying to get out of his chest. It felt significant. And so he managed to form a question.

"The day you- realized what?" He asked out of breath but forcing himself to open his eyes and hold his son's intense gaze.

"That I was in love with you." Legolas confessed, a certain sadness so very clear in his voice that Thranduil couldn't help to reach out a hand to cup his son's face in an attempt to comfort him.

Legolas was grateful for the touch and as he leaned into it, he continued.

"It happened a few moons before we went to Erebor. Our lands had been quiet for some time and so you decided to take a walk on the forest without your escorts. I was concerned for your safety and so I follow you in secret.
It was nice, really, to be able to see you enjoying yourself, so at peace, just walking through the woods under the sunlight. And then the night came and you stopped by the waterfall."

"I planed to just- feel the water on my feets." Thranduil said starting to remember the day his son was referring to. "But the night was so warm I decided to bath on the river."

"Yes." Came Legolas' soft voice, no more than a whisper now as his hand went up his father's thighs.

"From where I hided, I watched you Ada." He heard him say as he felt the wet cloth touch his hard length.

"Aahh... Legolas..." Thranduil moaned throwing his head back as his hips rosed from the bed at their own volition.

"I watched you take your clothes off, one by one until you were completly naked and I remember thinking 'you should look away Legolas, this is your father.'." Legolas said and his broken voice made Thranduil's eyes snap open.

His son was crying. This story wasn't... enticing for him, altho it was for Thranduil. But to his son, this was the history of how it all had begun. That was the day the innocent love he felt for his father, changed into something more. Something forbidden. And it pained Legolas to remember that.

"Hush, Legolas." Thranduil said turning to his side to face his son.

"It's alright now." He reassured him as he took the wet cloth from his hand and put it aside, and then took both of the young elf's hands on his and placed them over his chest. "I'm here for you now and we're in this together." He said softly, tenderly.

At hearing this, Legolas started sobbing like a little elfling, hiding his face on his father's neck but it was fine, Thranduil told himself. Because he was there and he was never going to let his son to suffer alone again.


So that was what the waterfall meant to Legolas. The origin of his sin, the beginning of everything. It would be so like him to want to end things right where they started.


The full moon shone on the clear night sky and Legolas thought it had to be fate.

"Just like that time." He said to himself, remembering all too clearly the figure of his father, standing exactly where he stood right now, his normally golden hair, almost silver then under the full moon, every muscle of his naked body, perfectly contoured by its light.

That night, before the waterfall, that's where it all had started. And tonight, that's where he will end it.

Legolas wasn't afraid of dying, not really. But the thought of never seeing his father again terrified him. He will miss him so much, so much it hurted. And he couldn't prolong this pain a second longer.

So he took a step towards the river, then another one and another one. His whole body was trembling but it wasn't quite fighting his decision, yet. In a minute, however, that was going to change and Legolas would need to be strong when it came to that.

He felt the water soaking his clothes and his heart started beating faster.

"You- can do this, Legolas." He told himself compeling his legs to take another step into the water.

He felt the rocks beneath his boots and he was suddenly thankful they weren't too slippery nor the stream strong enough to make him lose his footing. That would make things even more complicated. It wasn't a nice thought but as he went deeper and deeper, it became an inevitable one.

He was sinked down to his neck when it happened. His body began to rebel. His legs refused to take another step and his arms were trying to move on their own accord to get him to float, fighting the weight of the bag of rocks tied to his waist. But he wouldn't back down. He had made his decision and there had been a good reason for it.

"Ada..." Legolas whispered remembering his father's face that morning. The emptiness of his expression, his lost eyes.

'You did that Legolas.' He thought as he took a step forward.

'You hurted him and you can't take it back.' Another step and now he had to lift his chin to keep his nose out of the water, and just barely.

'You deserve this.' He convinced himself and took that last step.


Chapter Text

Thranduil had never pushed his moose to run as fast as he was pushing him now. He could hear its accelerated breathing, his heart pumping twice as fast as normal, but he couldn't care less. He needed to get to Legolas in time and by the Valars, he couldn't even care about his own heart beating at an alarming speed.
The others accompanying him were still confused, there had been no time to explain them anything, but they were keeping up with his pace nevertheless. The horses complaining from time to time, but never slowing down, as their riders wouldn't let them.

Thranduil heard the sound of water first. Liters and liters of water splashing against the rocks on the bottom per second. Then, finally, he spotted it. The waterfall.

"Split to cover more ground. The prince is here somewhere. Find him." He commanded when they reached the river. "Tauriel, not you, you're coming with me."

"Yes, my King." She replied going to his side, ready to ride in the direction he pointed.

But Thranduil stood put and waited the few seconds it took the others to leave, each on a different direction.

"Tauriel, how would he do it?!" He said with urgency when only they remained there.

But she was at lost at what he mean by that that question. The confusion clear on her face.

"Take his own life, Tauriel, how would Legolas do it?!" He said losing his temper. Time was running out if it hadn't ran out already.

"I- I don't know, my Lord I-" She stammered, shaken by the confirmation of her terrible suspicions.

"Think Tauriel!" Thranduil growled looking up to the treetops by the river, searching for something he wouldn't bear to see were he to find it.

"This is the place he chosen, I'm sure." He continued and now Tauriel could see the unshared tears that were filling the Elvenking's eyes. "This has to be it, why can't we see him, Tauriel?!"

"I don't know, but... if I know him, he wouldn't want you to see him." She said and they look at each other in realization, their eyes widening in fear.

"The water..." Came Thranduil's trembling voice before he yelled for everyone in the proximities to hear. "Soldiers! Go into the river, now! We'll search under the surface!"

Some part of Thranduil's brain registered the horrorized faces of the few elves that were close to them when he gave the order, but he didn't care. At least two minutes had passed since they got there, if Legolas had been underwater all that time and probably more then...

'No, he is alive. Is not too late. He is alive.' He told himself as he went deeper and deeper into the river.

He would go completely under and open his eyes under the water to see, but the fact that it was night made it pointless. He wouldn't see anything. So he walked as best as he could with the water up to his chin, moving his stretched arms to cover more space.

Less than a torturous minute passed, before one of the soldiers started shouting.

"Here! I found him!" As he started dragging something out of the water.

It was a body, Thranduil realized as he rushed to meet the soldier and what he didn't want to believe, was his son unconscious.

"Legolas... Legolas..." The Elvenking repeated but no answer came.

He and two others helped to get the prince out of the river and into the shore. But he wasn't breathing. And for a second, Thranduil stopped breathing too.

"Let me pass." He heard Tauriel say and her voice brought him back to action. He wasn't giving up on his son. Not just yet, not ever.

"Do as she say!" Thranduil commanded and so the soldiers obeyed. "Tauriel-"

"Yes, my Lord." She replied to the Elvenking's unspoken plea of saving what was most precious to him in the whole world.

She started the compressions on his chest. One, two, three and on until she reached fifteen, then stopped. She pinched his nose, tilted his chin a little up, opened his mouth, took air and breathed out inside. Saw the prince's chest rising with her air but as soon as she pulled out... nothing. So she repeated the steps.
One, two, three more times. Then stop. Still nothing was happening. But she wouldn't stop trying.

"I’ll try again." She said out loud tho it was meant to be for herself.

Thranduil look at her and then at his son and remembered the words she spoke to him back when Legolas was fading and nothing they did seemed to help him.

"His illness, my Lord..." She told him that time. "... does not come from his body, but from his heart."

And she had been right. So right.

'Please be right again.' He pleaded for only the Valars to hear.

He lowered his head to whisper on Legolas' ear and said:

"Ion-nîn, you are loved... no matter what you do, that will never change... I love you and I could never live without you."

And with that, he took Tauriel's hands on his to make her stop the compressions. If someone could bring his son back to life, it was him.

"Come back Legolas!" He growled as he lifted his right arm as high as it would go and then dropped it over his son's chest with the force of a hammer.

He felt the chest yield under his fist and heard Tauriel gasp beside them, but he knew there was no other way. So he repeated the motion.

"Breath!" He heard himself say and again, without him meaning to, his brain registered the scared looks on his soldiers' faces.

"Breath!" He repeated as he dropped his fist with all his strength a third time and this time... Legolas responded.

The young elf took one big breath of aire before he was coughing the water filling his lungs. The idea that he maigh choke on it crossed Thranduil's mind but his body was frozen in place, the same fear that until moments ago had lead him through the forest and into that forsaken river at the speed of lightning, now paralyzing his muscles and every bone.
Luckily for everyone, Tauriel seemed to be still in much more control of herself and she quickly turned the prince's head to the side, whispering obvious but maybe comforting things to him, like 'breath Legolas', or 'we're here now' and then 'everything will be fine'. And well, wasn't that just a pretty lie? Thranduil thought looking at her wondering if she could really be that naive or was just saying something she thought his son needed to hear. Be that as it may he knew Legolas better than she would ever know him. And if there was something he had come to know about him was that kindness was nowhere near what motivated him.

"Legolas." He said in a severe voice making Tauriel, the other elves and even his barely recovering son, flinch in fear.

The young elf didn't responded, he couldn't. He was just trying to get enough air through his sore throat without coughing. But he did forced himself to look at his father, making him know that he was listening.

'Good.' The Elvenking thought, making himself ignore the profound sadness and shame he saw written all over his Ion-nîn's face, concealing his own pain and need to cry until there were no more tears left on his body, so it wouldn't make his voice tremble when he say:

"Your misconduct has wasted us all precious time, Legolas. I can't count all the times I've told you a nightly walk on the forest, on your own, was reckless and therefor forbetit." He lied. He had to.

And by the resignation on Legolas' face he understood, nodding once before lowering his head to make it visible for the others that he was sorry.
Tauriel knew better, but she understood why they needed to keep the prince's suicide attempt a secret. He would be king one day, and there should no be debts of the strength of his character. So she lowered her head too, unable to do anything more for her dear friend.

"Galion, scort the prince to his chambers and make sure the healer sees that he's well." Thranduil said. "Tauriel and I will follow after a minute."

"Very well my Lord." The wise elf said with hesitation, not wanting to leave his King behind in the dangerous forest but knowing better than to question his order right now.


Once they were gone, Thranduil look at Tauriel and did something he wasn't used to do but had already done around her more often than what he was prepared to admit.

"Please, Tauriel..." He begged. "I- love my son, more than anything in this word and I know his love for me runs just as deep but- I don't know if we can recover from this."

"My King..." She said looking at him with honest confusion, because of course, she didn't understand why would he be telling her something like this. But she would understand soon enough. Thranduil needed her to understand.

"If Legolas and I... if we can't fix what's broken between us, he's going to need a friend, Tauriel. And I need you to be there for him when that happens. I need you to be always close in case... something like this happens again." He asked her already fearing the day when she became closer to his son than himself, the day when her whispered words of love and not his, were the ones to save his life.

Tauriel didn't know this, how much it pained him to admit that he might not be enough to take care of his own child but she understood that it had to be hard for him. Hard but necessary. Otherwise someone like Thranduil wouldn't be asking.

"Of course, my Lord. I give you my word that I will never leave his side." She promised.

And she will keep that promise until many years latter, when her love for a certain dwarf pull her towards a different path.


Thranduil waited impatiently for the healer to exit the room. He needed to know that Legolas was out of danger, that he would be alright. Luckily, that was precisely the case.
There seemed to be no permanent damage on his lungs or heart, the doctor informed him. He had also checked Legolas' motor functions and reflexes just to be sure his brain hadn't suffered from the prolonged lack of oxygen, but found that everything was responding normally. He recommended almost permanent observation during the next couple of days, but that was just a precaution. Apart from a few superficial scratches the young elf must have gotten when he fell to the river, the doctor assumed, he was perfect.

When he heard this, Thranduil felt the air returning to his own lungs. Legolas was fine, everything would be fine. Now he just... he just had to make sure his son wouldn't try something like this again. And if he failed, well, that's why he had asked Tauriel to help him keep and eye on him. Right now, however, he needed a moment alone with his son.


Legolas lay in his bed, asleep, or so he appeared to be, covers up to his chest, golden hair splayed on the white pillows that Thranduil had come to know so well by texture and smell in the past month, and he looked... older, somehow, skin almost greyish, bags under his eyes, even his hair wasn't shining under the candlelight as it normally would. Was he... fading?

Without a second thought Thranduil steeped closer to the bed. He needed to hold Legolas, give him some of his warmth, of his own life if he would take it, perhaps tell him again what he whispered to him by the river, that he loved him and he will always love him. But his intentions were cut short when as soon as he reached the bed, Legolas woke up with a start.

Thranduil wasn't expecting the frightened expression he saw in his son's face when he took one step closer but he could understand why his son maigh fear his reaction after what he had done. Still, it pained him that he felt that way.

"Legolas..." He begun with the softer voice he could manage as he watched the young elf sit with his back against the headboard, his muscles tense, his eyes never rising to meet his own. "You should remain in bed, laying down I mean, I can leave to let you rest." Thranduil said even though leaving was the last thing he wanted.

"N-no, it's fine, the healer says I'm well. I don't need to rest." Legolas’ reply came painfully broken, lifeless.

"How are you feeling?" He had to ask altho he thought he had a pretty good idea. His son, however, always found a way to surprise him.

"Ashamed." He said as a tear rolled down his cheek and Thranduil wanted nothing more than to be allowed to kiss it away.

Instead he sat carefully on the bed, next but not too close to his son, and said:

"Your mind was clouded, Legolas, you made a mistake."

"You're right." Legolas said turning his head to the side, away from his father. "I should have hide the letter better."

At hearing those words Thranduil's blood ran cold. His son couldn't possible mean...

"So that I wouldn't save you?!" He asked in disbelief trying to meet his son's eyes without much luck. "Answer me, Legolas!"

"And why would you want to save me?" The young elf said as tears escaped his eyes. "After what- after I..."

"After you raped me?" Thranduil finished for him, surprising Legolas by the fowardness of his statement and making him finally look at him.

Wide, frightened eyes, but at least he was looking at him.

"Legolas, you really think that's what happened?" He said softly placing a hand against the elf's wet cheek, trying to wipe the tears rolling down his face.

His son had always been so transparent with his emotions. Well, at least right until he started hiding that he was in love with his father that was, but even then... he hadn't really hide it that well, now that he think about it. Thranduil just hadn't been ready to accept what he was showing him. But he was now. And right now Legolas seemed... hopeful, maybe? Like he wanted to believe more than anything, that he hadn't really hurted his father in such a horrible way. And that was just fine with Thranduil, he wanted him to know that he hasn't.

"Listen, Legolas... " He started, taking is hand back but keeping his voice just as soft. "I didn't appreciated... the way you did things last night. The... roughness of it and you doing things you wanted without taking in consideration what I wanted." He continued and by the Valars, he could feel his hands sweating. Why was so difficult to talk about this?

"I did... I did say no, Legolas. I asked you to stop and you didn't." There, he thought, he had to say that, verbal consent was important. "But, really, if I had truly wanted you to stop I could have-"

"No." Legolas interrupted him, the strength and determination in his voice, taking him by surprise. "Don't make excuses for me."

"Legolas, I'm not-"

"Even if you don't realize you're doing it, you are. You're trying to put the responsibility of what happened on you, thinking that you could have fight harder, or say no more strongly, but the truth is that... I did something horrible to you, and you don't want to see it because if you did-"

"Stop it."

"... to you it would mean you're weak... and me-"

"Legolas... " Thranduil said in a warning tone.

"It would mean I'm a monster." Legolas finished, looking into his father's eyes with so much pain and regret that it broke Thranduil's heart in half.

This conversation was not going well.

"Listen to me Legolas!" Thranduil demanded taking the young elf's face with both hands, fingers pressed against the soft flesh a little harder than he intended. "You are not a monster!"

" How can you say that?" Legolas asked trying to turn his head away but finding that his father wouldn't have it.

"I can say that because I know you. I have known you all your life and yes, I know that you have change but, Legolas, deep inside you... you haven't changed at all."

"But I- I have-"

"You have made a mistake." Thranduil said, softening his grip on his son's face as he begun to close the distance between them, finally resting his forehead against Legolas' own, feeling his warmth, feeling his soft breathing against his lips. "But you feel bad about it, don't you?"

"... Yes. " Legolas whispered just a little out of air. And yes, Thranduil knew his words and his proximity were finally breaching his son's barriers, built in guilt and self hatred.

"You know it was a mistake and you won't do it again, isn't that right Legolas?" He said wetting his lips, preparing for a kiss he didn't know which of them needed more.

"Ada... " Legolas moaned mesmerized by the action, his own tongue coming out to lick at his own dry lips. And they were so close, so close to leave that incident behind...

But then Legolas retreaded, a broken look on his face, and Thranduil could see that he wouldn't like what his son was about to say next.

"I can't accept that you would forgive me that easy."

No, Thranduil didn't like the sound of that at all.

"What do you mean?"

"I need to be punished for what I did, Ada." Legolas said looking straight into Thranduil's eyes, not an inch of hesitation on his face, and it was painfully obvious that he wouldn't let this go just like that.

"Fair enough." Thranduil answered resigned. "What would you say would be a fitting punishment then?"

And at this Legolas stopped to think. No, perhaps not to think in the punishment itself, if Thranduil knew his son, which he did, but maybe in how to put it into words. This should be interesting then.

"You should..." He heard him start and then stop to consider his own words some more.

"Just say it Legolas, plain and simple." Thranduil urged him trying to hold back a smile at seeing the young elf's cheeks turn red. So this would be that kind of request then.

But Legolas seemed to read his father's face just as well as he read his, and so he rose from the bed with a serious expression on his face.

"I'm not playing, father! After what I did you should feel... disgusted around me, you should be hating me!" Legolas said, new tears filling his eyes once again.

And it made Thranduil mad, to see his son hating himself that much. It made him remember what he had attempted to do just an hour ago or so. What he almost succeed in doing.

"Hate you?! Really Legolas?!" He asked raising his voice as he stood up and cross the distance separating him from his son. "Now why would I do that when you hate yourself for the both of us?!"

He was so mad at Legolas he wanted to slap him in the face until he got over those outrageous ideas. Instead, he settled with simply grab him by the shoulders to make him face him as he tried to talk some sense into him.

"I don't hate you, I could never hate you even if I tried! But by the Valars, if you ever- ever! try what you did tonight again, I swear for our ancestors that I will find a way to bring you back and kill you myself, Legolas!" He said tightening his hold on his son's arms almost certainly enough to bruise him.

But Legolas didn't seemed frightened, which was what Thranduil had hoped for. Instead, he looked even more miserable than before.

"I don't deserve that you still care about me this much, Ada." Came his broken reply. And it only made Thranduil even angrier. Was there simply no way to make his son stop feeling guilty?

No. Perhaps there was.

"Tell me what to do?" Thranduil said finally realizing what he was supposed to do. The only thing he could do now. "Tell me what punishment you think you deserve for your crime, and I swear to you, you'll receive it."

And this, this did made Legolas' expresion change. Something, maybe relief or even hope, was fighting its way into his eyes.

"You... would really punish me for what I did to you?" The young elf asked still uncertain.

"I will." Thranduil promised him and promised himself that no matter what his son asked he would do it. He would do it for them.

Still, when it finally came, the request was hard to digest.

"I want you to... do to me what I did to you." He heard Legolas say and suddenly he was back in last night.

Thranduil remembered clearly the punches, the cut in his thigh, the forced kisses, the unwanted mouth on his member, and of course, his son's warm body impaling itself on him, undulating on his member as he unwillingly made love to him. Did Legolas wanted to...?

"Do you want to be inside of me?" Thranduil blurted out too surprised to feel embarrassed of what he was asking his own son.

He didn't know how much that idea terrified him until he felt relief washing over him when he heard Legolas say:

"What? No! That's not- that's not it."

His relief didn't last long tho because just as fast, his son added:

"I mean you should force me Ada." And his voice was severe but for the first time in the night it didn't sound broken when he continued. "Just as I forced you, you should... force yourself in me."

"It doesn't work that way Legolas." Thranduil found himself saying instead of screaming at the top of his lungs 'no! I won't do it!', which was what he really was thinking.

"No, I know." His son said understanding clearly what he meant. "Atrocious acts can't be fought with equal atrocities. Is just that this..."


"This is more like... retribution."

"You mean revenge." Thranduil corrected him, because really, Legolas wasn't fooling anyone.

"Yes, I suppose I do mean that. I... I need it to be that, father." Legolas said with pleading eyes.

Thranduil could say no. Just no and find another way to teach his son a lesson but deep down he had no idea what that other way could be. He was so very tired of trying different ways to approach his son, to comfort him, to save him. Maybe he should just give him what he wanted and shut his mouth about it. Yes, perhaps that was the only way.

He spoke before he could think it better and change his mind.

"Fine, Legolas. Just promise me this in exchange, there will be no more attempts of ending your life."

"No more, Ada. I really am sorry for worrying you tonight." Legolas said looking down, a single tear rolling down his cheek and that was it.

Thranduil remembered the letter, the search in the forest, seeing his son being pulled out of the water, dead, he appeared to be dead and he had done that to himself. Legolas might believe he was being punished for forcing himself on Thranduil but he would really be punished for attempting against his own life.

Suddenly Thranduil was grabbing his son's arm, definitely hard enough to bruise, pulling him towards the nearby desk against the wall.

"You are right, Legolas, you do need punishment." He growled turning the young elf around, making him face the desk and pushing him down over it.

"I do, Ada. I'm sorry." Legolas said almost out of air with his chest now pressed against the hard surface.

"Shut up!" Thranduil surprised him by yelling with an anger he hadn't noticed was there. "You will talk if I ask you to talk."

And with that he started undoing his son's tunic, pulling it out from his shoulders, finding he had no other garments underneath it.

"I bet you were prepared for this, won't you, whore?" He asked with a cruel smile that he knew Legolas couldn't see but could hear in his voice. "Talking me into punish you when all you want is to have me pounding into you against anything solid enough to support your trembling body." He continued knowing the rash words and insults would only arouse his son more. As it will do a little bit of pain.

"Spread your legs for me, Legolas." He demanded as he undid his belt and pulled it free from his pants.

When Legolas obeyed, he didn't give him any time to prepare before he striked the soft skin of his buttocks with the hard leather.

"Aahh!" The young elf screamed more of surprise than pain. He hadn't been expecting that. His father's hand maybe, his member hopefully, but not that.

"Keep it quiet!" Thranduil growled taking Legolas' left wrist and pushing it towards his son's open mouth. "Unless you want the whole kingdom to know what a needy, lecherous prince they have, bite down to hold back your screams. Trust me, there will be plenty of that tonight." He promised as he lowered the belt a second time, harder this time.

It hurted, but Legolas did as he was told and bit into his wrist to keep himself from screaming.

A third hit and Thranduil was holding his strength back less and less each time. A fourth hit, a fifth and then he was finally putting his hands on Legolas. He touched his son's reddish flesh, tentatively at first. Then he was kneading the sore muscles and soon enough, spreading him open, exposing his delicate opening.

"You opened yourself up for me last night." He said remembering that display all too well. "Who taught you that? Was it Thorin?"

"Y-yes." Legolas replied feeling aroused by his father mentioning last night but incredible jealous by the fact that he was calling Thorin by his name and not referring to him as 'that dwarf’ or something by the sort.

"And when was this? On Erebor, while I was trying to recover your mother's more precious possessions?" Thranduil asked feeling a new wave of anger washing over him.

He striked Legolas a sixth time, not giving him a chance to answer, this time hitting the tight ring of muscles he was keeping exposed.

"Mmmphhh!" Legolas screamed around his wrist feeling his most sensitive part receiving the full force of his father's belt. He couldn't deny tho, he was getting incredible hard from it.

"Such a low whore you grew up to be, Legolas." His father continued as he traced a finger around his sore opening as if trying to alleviate the pain.

"I was there when he was on top of you, his fingers inside of you, apparently, although at the time I believed it was something else. And you, you moaning for me the whole time. Thorin really have low standards if you ask me." He finished resuming his punishment on the already burning flesh.

He hit Legolas five more times after that, two of those times aiming directly at his opening. By the time he finished, Legolas was on tears, more sore than he ever remembered to be outside the battle, but also harder than ever in his life.
His swollen member was trapped between his own body and the desk but each hit pushed him harder against the rough wood and his heated flesh would slide up against the surface and get the much wanted friction. It was maddening really. But just as soon as it started, it ended.
Thranduil took a step back and kneeled behind his son. By then, Legolas was expecting anything really. Anything but the feel of a wet tongue over his entrance.

"Aahhhh... Ada!" He moaned too caught out on the feeling to remember to bite his wrist to muffle his sounds.

His father was spreading his cheeks with both hands and licking his opening. He had never felt anything like that. Suddenly he forgot all about his member, all about the pain and there was only his father's tongue, tasting him, caresing the sore skin there, so tenderly it was heartbreaking.

"Mmm Ada..." Legolas couldn't help to moan just as he couldn't help to push backwards, pressing himself harder into his father's face.

"Stop it Legolas." The older elf warned him with a deep, husky voice. "Or we're back to the belt."

And Legolas didn't wanted that. Now that he knew how his father's tongue feel down there he didn't wanted anything else.
He felt the wet muscle tracing his ring, lapping at it, and then suddenly, entering him. Slowly, almost timidly at first, until its movements became bolder. Soon, his father was inserting his tongue as far as it would go, taking it out to lick at his ring of muscles and then pushing it back in, and it was amazing.
Legolas moaned in pure pleasure and on their own volition, his hips pushed back, seeking more of that delicious intrusion. But Thranduil wouldn't have it.

He never thought he would want to do something like this to anyone. He didn't even knew if anyone did this kind of thing to begin with but... as soon as he stepped away from Legolas and saw the damage he had done, his redish, burning skin, so exposed, so sensitive, he felt himself being pulled towards it. Suddenly he was kneeling behind his son and he couldn't think in anything softer than his own tongue to sooth the pain Legolas had to be feeling.
It turned out Legolas loved it, or so the noises he was making lead him to believe. But he himself was loving it too and just as much if not even more. The intimacy of it, knowing he was breaching his most intimate area with just his tongue. The feeling of the tender flesh... Its unique taste... Thranduil wouldn't lie to himself anymore, he was loving it. But as much as he didn't wanted to stop, he had given Legolas a very clear order, to stop moving, and so he wouldn't accept his son disobeying him, doing again whatever he wanted without taking in account his father's words.

So Thranduil stopped his ministrations on the sore flesh and stood up. He gave Legolas no time to process what was happening before he was hitting his buttocks with the belt again, only this time using the other end, making the buckle connect painfully with the already abused cheeks.

Legolas screamed in pain, covering his mouth with both hands just a little too late and Thranduil was thankful he had sent the guards to rest for the night before coming inside his son's bedroom or he would need to come out with some sort of story explaining this much noise. For appearances sake, that was. Still, he was enjoying watching Legolas try to hold back his voice and failing so miserably.
He hit him once, twice and then stopped, watching a few red scratches appear on the flesh before him.

"Now that's a punishment you will be feeling for days Legolas." Thranduil said feeling a strange satisfaction that it was new to him and not at all welcomed.

Was he really enjoying hurting his son? It couldn't be, he was simply doing what Legolas asked him to do, he didn't really wanted to do any of it, he convinced himself. And yet he could tell that he was already hard in his pants.
He stopped his brain from thinking why that was, why was hitting Legolas making his member throb with want. But whatever the reason maigh be, his need couldn't be ignored any longer.

So he grabbed Legolas by the right arm and pulled him up from the desk. He didn't know what he was going to do until he saw his own hands pushing his son down in front of him by the shoulders. Legolas seemed startled as he suddenly found himself kneeling on the ground, hands seeking his father's tighs for balance, but Thranduil was just as startled himself. He didn't understand what he was doing until he opened his trousers and pulled his member free.

"Open your mouth, Legolas." He heard himself saying as he took his hard length in hand and placed the tip against his son's lips.

This was madness. He had lost what little sanity he had left that night, there was no other explanation. Was he really doing this? Forcing his son to pleasure him with his mouth? But then again... was Legolas really being forced? He had to ask himself when he saw the eager expression on his son's face, that spark shining in his eyes as he opened his mouth and liked at the offered flesh before him.

And now it was Thranduil the one fighting to keep his voice down, because by the Valars, his son had a natural talent for this.

Legolas' tongue was impetuous, as the young elf himself. It licked shameless as his member, down to its base and back to its leaking tip. And soon enough it wasn't just his tongue. One of Legolas' hands traveled from his thigh to his hip, while the other wrapped around his length and begun to pump.

"Ahhh, Legolas..." Thranduil found himself moaning when he couldn't help it no more. It felt so good it felt wrong.

Legolas' touch was heavenly, the rhythm of his hand going up and down his member, his tongue lapping at the head to then follow a long vein down to the base. Thranduil didn't know how it could be more perfect than that. And then Legolas took him inside his mouth and he saw stars passing before his eyes.

"Yess... Legolas, just like that..." He growled realizing how needy he sounded but not caring enough to stop.

It encouraged Leglas to take things further and so he begun to move his head up and down, swallowing his father almost entirely before pulling back and then going back down to repeat the movement. It was driving Thranduil crazy with pleasure. It was too much, and then the next second, not nearly enough.
Suddenly he was reaching for Legolas head, fisting his hands on his hair to make him go faster and deeper.

"Nnnghhh... Ion-nîn, you feel so good... " Thranduil said in ecstasy and felt his son moan around him, sending vibrations through his member and into his spine.

Perhaps it was the compliment, or that he called him son in a moment like that. Or maybe it was just his hand tightening his hold on his hair, making his scalp hurt. Thranduil didn't know what of all that was arousing his son this much but he knew he was aroused. The hand the young elf had kept on his hip had long disappeared and Thranduil had no doubt of where he could find it.
They both needed more than what they were getting right now. It was time.

So Thranduil stepped away once more, his hard member making an obscene wet noise when it pop out of his son's mouth. He took a moment to observe Legolas then, marvelling in the sight of the young elf kneeling before him, pumping his own erection with his free hand, and then he was lost. There was no going back from this.

He took Legolas by the hair and forced him to his feets. The young elf cried out in pain but recovered quickly, his whole body trembling with need.

"Some worthless needy whore you are Ion-nîn." Thranduil growled dragging his son towards the bed. "I bet you begged Thorin to take you. I bet you would beg anyone in the kingdom if you didn't know they fear me too much to say yes." He finished pushing his son to the mattress, immediately climbing on top him.

"Now spread your legs for me, Legolas." He demanded and his son obeyed, the pleasured he got just from his father's insults, clear in the way his member had begun to leak from its tip.

Legolas was a sight to behold. Sprawled in bed, skin already shining with sweat, golden hair and red abused lips, strong arms and thighs, legs spread open to let his father accommodate between them so he could have him. He was erotic but far more important than that, he was so alive.

"Legolas I-" Thranduil begun, suddenly out of breath.

"Yes father... I want it." The young elf said reading his thoughts.

For all the rough treatment his father was giving him, all the beating and insulting... Legolas knew he still seeked his consent. More than that, everything he did, he did it because he thought Legolas wanted it. And he did, of course he did. He was long pass denying that he liked to be treated roughly. But his father probably wasn't enjoying it. Even if his body was reacting, he will come to hate every moment of it after.
But Legolas wasn't strong enough to asked him to stop. Perhaps he was selfish, perhaps he was just simply afraid that if he didn't have at least this with his father, he wouldn't have anything else linking him to him. It was a terrifying thought, to know that he had ruined the possibility of a normal relationship with his father and that now this was all he could have with him. But things were what they were and all he could do now was continue the path he had chosen for both of them and see where it would lead them.

"I want you inside of me Ada, please..." Legolas continued as he felt his father's hesitation. "I want to feel your punishment for days."

"Ah... Legolas." Thranduil moaned finding his son's statement incredibly arousing.

"I want to feel you when I walk, when I try to sit... and I want to remember this night every time I pleasure myself from now on." He continued as his hands traveled down and up the bigger elf's sides.

"Yes, Legolas... I will make it so you will never forget it." Thranduil promised as he placed two fingers against his son's lips, urging him to lick.

Legolas took the offered digits and licked them eagerly. He couldn't wait to feel his father's member inside of him but he couldn't ask the older elf not to prepare him, he would suffer too much if he really hurted his son. So Legolas made sure his father's fingers were wet enough before he let them go.
Luckily, Thranduil was just as eager as him and wasted no time in reaching for his hole. He inserted one digit slowly, carefully, almost stopping when he felt Legolas' muscles contract around it. Then he remembered his son's preference for pain and forced himself to go on.
He pushed the second finger in and felt Legolas tremble under him.

"Please... Ada..." The young elf moaned throwing his head back in pleasure but tightening his hold on his father's biceps, clearly in pain.

"This is hurting, Legolas." Thranduil said, knowing his son would never ask him to stop even if he was hurting but confident that he at least wouldn't lie to him if he asked directly.

And Legolas didn't lie.

"It... burns a little." He replied spreading his legs further to give the older elf better access. "Perhaps if you... if you touched my spot, the pain would lessen." He suggested.

But Thranduil knew better.

"It wouldn't lessen." He argued, carefully taking his fingers out. "It would just hurt you even more if I try to reach further." He explain, a new plan forming in his mind.

So he pushed himself up in his arms and started travelling down his son's body. He look the confusion in Legolas' face for an instant before he focused in the exposed body under him.

"You're so beautiful Ion-nîn." He said as he lowered his mouth to the soft skin of his chest.

He delivered a few hot, wet, hungry kisses, and then he was biting at the exquisite flesh before him, making Legolas squirm in pleasure.

"Nnnghh... Ada." He moaned wantonly, his hands flying to his sides to grip at the bedsheets when his father's mouth closed over his right nipple.

Thranduil bit the sensitive skin, making it hurt just enough to be pleasurable, and then caressed the sore spot with his tongue. He sucked at the nipple twice, marveling in the sounds the action extracted from his son, and then moved to continue with the other one.

"Ada please..." Legolas beged when he felt the scrap of his father's teeth on his left nipple.

He was impossibly hard and if the older elf continued to tease him like that, Legolas would burst in any second, untouched and without Thranduil penetrating him.

Thranduil smiled at his son's eagerness. He had never felt so wanted, so needed, as he felt right then, and he realized with a spang of sadness, that he had also never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted Legolas right now. So he went lower over the squirming body, until his head was right between Legolas' spreaded legs, and then he took him in his mouth.
Some part of his brain registered the strangled moan the young elf let out when he felt himself being swallowed, but all Thranduil could think was how perfect his son's member felt between his lips, the heavy weight on his tongue, the warmth of his flesh, the taste. He knew he should have gone slower, perhaps give the length a tentative lick, so his mouth had time to adjust to it and Legolas the opportunity to refuse his intentions should he want to refuse them but... he simply didn't want time, he was desperate for becoming one with his son.

"A-ada!" He heard him growl when he begun to suck on the hard flesh.

He moved his head up and down the shaft before him, taking as much of it as he could without choking. His tongue swirled around the head from time to time, making Legolas tremble with pleasure, as one of his hands came to grab the member at its base, pumping it eagerly. In the meantime, his other hand reached for his son's opening once again.

His father's ministration made Legolas' muscles loosen up a little and focus his whole attention on the pleasure he was being given. Distantly, he felt the older elf's fingers against his entrance but when one of them went inside, his body didn't resist it anymore. If anything, his hole started gaping and spasming trying to take more of that delicious intrusion.

At this point, Thranduil realized he could go further and reach for Legolas' spot if he wanted and he wouldn't hurt him. His son was loose and as ready as he could be. But he was also about to reach his orgasm on his mouth and Thranduil couldn't have him doing that just yet. So he pulled out his fingers and push himself up on his hands, amused to hear a soft whine of complain coming from Legolas.

"You're such a demanding little thing, Ion-nîn. Always have been." He said smiling fondly as he climbed back up and positioned his hips between the young elf's spread thighs.

"A-ada..." He heard Legolas moan as he took himself in hand and guided his length to his son's opening.

The head went through the ring of muscles almost effortless, and then the rest slided in as if it had always belonged there. It was heavenly.
Thranduil felt his son's body swallow him in his warmth, his softness, and soon he couldn't keep his voice down.

"Nnghhh... Legolas..." He growled trying his best to keep still to give the young elf time to adjust. "You feel amazing Ion-nîn I- I want to-"

"Do it!" Legolas said as if reading his thoughts. "It won't hurt if you move, Ada, I'm ready for you."

And that was all the confirmation Thranduil needed before he started rocking his hips against his son's backside, pulling his member almost completely out of his hole before slamming it back in aiming for his spot.
It made Legolas see stars when he felt his father hit the exactly right place and then he was moving himself to meet his thrusts.

"Aahhh Ada!" He screamed in pleasure throwing his head back.

Thranduil saw the new exposed skin and couldn't resist the need to put his mouth on it, lapping at the long tendons and then closing his teeth on them to mark them, to mark his son.

"Nnghh Legolas, you feel so perfect..." Thranduil heard an animalistic voice say that he couldn't quite believe it had been his own.

By now his thrusts had grown in speed and force and the headboard of the bed had begun to hit the wall in a unmistakable rhythm. Legolas was holding to his biceps, his nails leaving half moon shaped marks on his skin, but not even his strong grip was enough to keeping his body from sliding a little up every time Thranduil's hips connected with his backside. There will be bruises. He knew. He simply didn't care.

Suddenly, he felt something warm sliding down his shaft when he was pulling out to push back in, but when he was about to look down to see what it was, Legolas' hands came to his face and then his son was kissing him. Thranduil wasted no time and opened his mouth to respond, his tongue seaking entrance, desperate to find contact. Legolas was quick to comply and soon his mouth was being just as ravished as the rest of his body.

He could feel his orgasm coming then and he held tight to his father's shoulders. Judging by the force the older elf was already putting in his thrusts, Legolas feared that when he reached his climax and his hole begun to spasm around his father's member, his final thrusts would send him head first through the wall. So he held tighter and let his father know that it was coming.

"I-m... close Ada... I-" He barely managed to say before his climax hit him with full force, his member, untouched for the last few minutes, spurting long ropes of seed across his chest and chin.

Thranduil could only watch in amazement how the beautiful figure under him trembled with pleasure as his load bursted all over him. Soon, he felt his son's hole tightening around his shaft and he saw white.
Desperate to reach even further, he grabbed his son's legs and forced them up and over his shoulders, bending him in what it had to be an uncomfortable position. At the moment, however, he couldn't care less. This way his son's entrance was more exposed, facing upwards and allowing him a better angle.
So Thranduil pushed himself a little up, placing one foot on the mattress while kneeling with his other leg, and then lowered himself inside Legolas' entrance roughly, relentlessly.

Legolas screamed in pain, feeling his abused hole stretch impossibly wide but he also couldn't deny that the idea of his father losing sight of his well being due to pleasure was the most arousing thing he had ever felt.
He heard Thranduil grunt with each new thrust and knew he wouldn't be the only one feeling this for weeks to come.

After four more thrusts, Thranduil was reaching his own climax, filling his son with the same seed that had given life to him.


Thranduil would think about that night for many years to come. About how he hadn't care to hit his own son the same night he almost die, how it even felt good. About how he made him bleed while taking him, how Legolas couldn't even get up from the bed the morning after. About how he had found arousing the thought of spilling his seed inside the son that had been born from said seed. It was monstrous.
He had really tried to fight it at first but that hadn't last long. And he tried to tell himself that he was only keeping Legolas' wellbeing in mind but... he didn't believe those lies anymore. They were excuses, nothing more. Excuses to cover the fact that he too had always wanted his son in that way. Still, years after that first cruel night, many more followed, and in each of them Thranduil would found new and creative ways to punish his son, to humiliate him, to take him a little too rough, a little to hatefully. Now Thranduil saw his own aggressive actions for what they were. A way to make Legolas pay for forcing him to realize that he had impure desires for his son. Thranduil really hated himself for that and more than anything he wanted it to stop. He simply couldn't stop it himself.

Legolas knew this. At first he truly thought is father was punishing him because he knew Legolas liked that, being humiliated and being treated roughly. But at some point, he found out that that wasn't really the reason. No, his father resented him for all that had transpired between them. For Legolas confessing his love, for his advances, for him trying to take his own life and Thranduil seeing no other way to stop him from trying a second time than being whatever his son needed him to be. But Legolas understood why he thought that, after all it was nothing but the true. Still, that his father resented him so much as to wanting to hurt him until he bleeded, that had been unexpected. Legolas truly didn't blame him for that but he knew they needed to do something about it. It was hurting them both. It was killing them slowly but certainly.

The solution presented itself, as everything in life, unexpectedly.

One day, on one of his patrols with Tauriel and others through the dark forest, he stumbled with someone he never thought he would be seeing again. Thorin. And twelve others. On their lands, on a quest as pointless as their short relationship had been, or so he thought then.
He of course didn't waste the opportunity to call him a liar and a thief, pretending to be talking about the dwarf taking an elvish sword and lying about it. But Thorin and him knew he was talking about Thranduil and how he had wasted no time to try to have the Elenking for himself even if it was only for one night.

When they took the dwarves to the dungeons he wanted nothing more than to go to Thorin's cell and kill him where he stand. But when he was on his way to do just that, he saw Tauriel talking to one of the dwarves. He saw her and he heard her making the same mistake he had made all those years ago, giving one of those lying, hateful creatures an opening to her heart. And he couldn't just let that happen, she was his friend, she had save his life and he owned her to warn her, to prevent her to fall in love with him.

So he stayed close to her, to them. And when she went she went after the dwarf when they succeed in scape, he follow her. And he tried hard not to think about Thorin saving his life when an orc almost killed him from behind, because, that couldn't possibly mean anything right? But, he had saved him. And Legolas would have the chance to repay the favor before Thorin found his death in that cursed battle.

After that, it felt like something had ended. Like a spell had been broken. Elves may live forever, but they also may not. They could be killed in battle like any other creature. Like Thorin had been killed. And when that happened, Legolas couldn't avoid to feel the spang of tears on his eyes.
Had Thorin even been happy? At some point of his life, had he let go of the love he have for his father and find love and happiness in someone else? Had he have the chance to live fully, before he died? Legolas couldn't know. The little creature he saw reaching for the dwarf in his final moments, the hobbit crying while holding his hands as Thorin parted from this world, he may have loved the dwarf, and hopefully, Thorin may had love him back. Legolas wanted to believe that, as he walked away without saying his own goodbyes.
He would mourn Thorin, he honestly would. And he would, in a way, mourn his father too.

He heard what Tauriel had told the Elvenking, that there was no love in him. And in that moment he realized what he truly had done to his father. It wasn't the death of her mother, it wasn't the darkness and evil growing stronger in this era, it was him, it was Legolas fault that his father had lost his capacity to feel love or anything other than just anger. He had always been a moody king, but now it was more than that. He was bitter, he was anger all the time and the few moments he wasn't, he was sad, miserable. And it was all because of Legolas.

He saw Tauriel stood her place before Thranduil, defend her love for the dwarf even if it cost her her life. And he felt envy for her. If only he could do the same. If only giving his life to defend the love he felt for his father were enough, he would do it. In the blink of an eye, he'd do it. But that wasn't going to solve anything.
No, there was only one thing he could do if he truly loved his father. One thing he could do for him. He have to leave. Leave and give Thranduil the possibility to move on, to build his character back, to heal.

So that's what Legolas did. He sneaked out after the battle was finished, after he saw Thorin die and Tauriel's love die. And altho he wished he could stay there for his dear friend, he couldn't. He said his goodbyes, not with words, but with his eyes and he knew she was going to survive this. She was that strong, and love, if anything, had made her stronger.

So Legolas turned around and left. But he took only a few steps into the mountain tunnels, when he almost collided with his father's strong chest.

"I... can not go back." He found himself saying. And then he walked past his father, trying to avoid his eyes, not trusting himself to be able to leave if he didn’t.

And Thranduil seemed to understand the reason behind his decision because he didn’t argued with him, didn't asked why, didn't even tried to have a say in the matter. He simply asked where would he go. His voice, however, was pleading Legolas for something. Something perhaps not even his father knew what it was. But they had have many years to figure things out and accomplished absolutely nothing. Now it was too late to try.

"I do not know." Legolas replied turning a little towards the older elf but still not quite dearing to meet his eyes.

Thranduil suggested a course then, sent Legolas into a path that would decide the destiny of the Middle Earth and every living creature on it. A path that would lead him to the one that would become his best friend and to whom he would devote his life.

When Legolas turned around to finally leave, the voice of his father, so broken, so full of sentiment, made him stop in his tracks.

"Legolas..." He said and then waited, perhaps expecting him to turn around, perhaps gathering the courage to say what he needed to say.

When Legolas stopped but stood facing away, his father continued.

"Your mother loved you Legolas, more than anything. More than life itself. I'm sure she would... forgive us for what we have done as long as we could- find our way to be happy." He finished and altho Legolas couldn't see him, he knew by his father's voice that he was crying.

So he turned around and said the only thing he had left to say, the only thing it was worth saying.

"I love you, Ada." And with that, he left.