amongst kings

The King and his Advisor


/ˈzɜːrksiːz/  || Valet of the Rainsworth Dukedom


Damen rolled onto his back again, and felt the words like happiness as he let himself look up again at the wide sweep of stars.

Sorry but I’m bored of *~precious~* (aka weak-willed) England and The Top ™ France give me men who have fought against each other, for each other , with each other, who have spent 1000 years hating each other and loving each other and everything in between. Give me Arthur, a man who used to be an empire, who used to radiate power still learning to cope with just being England, learning that the others don’t see him the same, that he’s no longer a king amongst men. Give me Francis faking a smile and having to accept being seen as the flirt, the predator, the pretty face, the player, while he quietly tries to deal with pain, depression, a past of war and loss and still maintain the ‘big brother France’ act he has going on. Just, please, give me some 3D, in depth characters who are hurt and struggling to adjust to the modern world. P l e a s e.

He feels their eyes on him as he sits at the bar, waiting.

They aren’t subtle. They stare openly, gaze flickering from the runes on his neck to the flush of his cheeks to the way his foot taps against the sticky floor. Their whispers are more like accusations, their words loud enough to overcome the thumping bass ricocheting off Pandemonium’s walls, and even without his hearing rune activated the sentiment is clear as day.

It’s uncomfortable, even after Valentine’s demise, to be the sole Nephilim here, hands empty of drinks with the weight of hundreds of stares on his shoulders. Alec pulls his phone out to text Magnus or Izzy or anybody, but he pauses when a gradual hush falls behind him, silence rolling through the club like a warning. Alec turns slowly, seat swiveling with a creak, and then there he is, parting the crowd on sheer presence alone.


Magnus, except it’s not tender smiles and soft kisses and bitter coffee, and it’s not clever grins and wise quips and crackling energy.

It’s Magnus in his element, gaze sweeping lazily over his territory, saturated in the faint neon glow of pulsing lights, looking perfect and untouchable with his hair swept high and dark eyes flashing. Alec doesn’t… he doesn’t even know how to describe it properly, the way Magnus looks different here – words aren’t coming, tangled on his tongue, and all Alec knows is that there’s an urgent, inexplicable, overeager thing inside him that runs so hot it freezes him in place. And when Magnus smirks at him with a raised eyebrow, dammit, Alec wants to –

“’Ey, Magnus.”

Alec turns, heart beating rabbit-fast as he tracks the voice coming from a hovering stranger who stares down at Magnus with lime green lizard’s eyes. God, he’d forgotten there were people around, forgotten that he was in the middle of a club. A few feet away, the stranger scowls at him with something close to annoyance, but Magnus chuckles and gives Alec a pointed look before clapping the warlock on the arm in a familiar gesture.

The man leads Magnus to a group in the corner, and Alec watches as they surround Magnus until Alec can barely see the glossy tips of Magnus’s dark hair from his seat by the counter. Sounds of laughter fall like a summer storm, cheerful and loud and raucous, shouts of Magnus’s name spilling from their lips. The six warlocks around Magnus turn into twelve turn into more warlocks than Alec’s ever seen in one place, faces blurring as everybody crowds around with smiles on their lips and shot glasses in hand, and Alec can’t see Magnus anymore beyond a single ringed hand rising from the fray, slotted in the middle of the horde.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn, king amongst his people. And the kinder side of Alec’s mind tells him to smile for the way Magnus is loved, to be happy that others know his worth, but that voice is being bulldozed right now by greed and want and frustration burning under his skin, asking why the hell did you interrupt and come back come back come back.

When Magnus is done, when he finally returns to Alec, still smiling and indescribably perfect, Alec’s palms are aching from the way his fingernails dug in, and the thing that froze him in place before comes angry and alive. When Magnus drags him backwards with a laugh, winding between drunk Downworlders, and sways his hips in time with the pulsing beat, Alec follows with intent.

The want flares into a flaming thing, hot and heavy when Magnus dances around Alec like a twist of silk, hands lingering on Alec’s neck, his waist, his chest, his eyes closed in bliss. And when Magnus grinds back against Alec and bares the long, sinuous line of his neck to Alec’s teeth, his spiked hair grazing Alec’s cheek… all Alec wants to do is wreck him, to smudge his makeup and bury his hands in his hair. But not here, not in Pandemonium, not with Seelie whispers and vampire stares and Alec feeling like he’s going to knock everything over with how much he wants. He’s a quivering mess and Magnus is just watching him, eyes sweet and sly, and it’s unfair that Magnus can do this without even saying a word. The way color catches on the high, upswept wave of Magnus’s hair, the way his eyes glow like melted gold, the way his lips are slick and wet and waiting… Alec needs it for himself and no one else.

They’ve danced themselves onto the edge of the floor, and the memory of the last time he was in this spot races through Alec’s head. He remembers a sparkling ruby, an arrow buried in the chest of a murderer, and a glimpse of a man who he didn’t yet know was going to change his life.

But just as quickly, he forgets it. He doesn’t care about before right now. Instead, he just pulls Magnus into him, and the flame under his skin turns into the sun as he kisses Magnus for a taste of tequila and smoke.

“I want to leave,” Alec says hoarsely between kisses. “I want to go home now.”

And around them, the soundtrack of pulsing music fades in favor of a gang of warlocks who whoop and shriek for the way their High Warlock smiles wickedly into the lips of a Nephilim boy.

Your Eldritch Horoscope
  • Aries: The demoniac piping of the whip-poor-wills is said to increase in rhythm to match a dying human's breaths. They chase down the soul escaping the body. They chase it for prey. If it escapes, they fall silent. If they catch it, you can hear them laughing and shrieking in ecstasy for the remainder of the night, stirring the vast, nameless things that shift below the earth. You can see more of them gathering every day. What sound will they make when you die, I wonder?
  • Taurus: When your friends try to persuade you against a course of action, they are probably thinking of your best interest. Keep this in mind when you go past the beginning of mankind, past the beginning of the world, past the beginning of reality, to where time stops its curve in an abrupt acute angle. The Hounds are coming. And they WILL find you.
  • Gemini: One day, you will hear your mother's son screaming his father's name from the top of Sentinel Hill. He is gelatinous. He is a spider, a centipede, an octopus made of wriggling ropes, but he has your face. He looks more like your father than you do.
  • Cancer: Your tears may soak the soil unheeded, but there will always be a place for you here, beneath the tattered banner of The Yellow King, amongst the gravestones in the abandoned necropolis under the twin suns and black stars of lost Carcosa
  • Leo: It would be good for you to remind yourself, from time to time, we are all but the unseen, unheard, dead dreams of the blind idiot God Azathoth, the after-tremors of Its cosmic seizures, entire galaxies nothing but nerves misfiring for a split second in time, swirling forever in the endless abyss of eternity. You are less than nothing.
  • Virgo: Don't look in the well. Don't drink the water. Your family is gone. They're not coming back. Get out now, before it takes you too. That amorphous visual phenomenon dancing on the edges of your peripheral vision that you can't describe isn't you going crazy. It's alive. It's hungry.
  • Libra: It's not anyone's fault. Fault implies control. Everything happens completely at random, for no reason at all. Or is it simply a pattern of order so advanced it just seems random? A pattern beyond human comprehension. A pattern that repeats ad nauseam back to the beginning. Back to Them.
  • Scorpio: You are a puppet on a string. Dancing madly for the Faceless God Nyarlathotep. He waits for you in the darkness, laughing. The rats know what you did.
  • Sagittarius: You alone will be their witness. You alone will carry the burden. You will see the half-beast abominations marching in endless procession in the tombs under the sand, to make vile sacrifice to the five-headed extremity of the Old Gods. Take this secret to your grave.
  • Capricorn: What you fear will come to pass has already happened. In fact, it's happening right now. Everywhere, all at once, behind and underneath and in between all the spaces you can see, It's biding Its time. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate.
  • Aquarius: The atmosphere of this lonely place you live. You thought maybe it was the Old Gods, or Nature Spirits. I'm warning you, it is neither. Those at least have some relationship to mankind. It is Them. You have intruded where the veil is thinnest. You are a trespasser. They know you're there. They're searching. Getting closer. A sacrifice must be made.
  • Pisces: How can you be sure you're who you think you are? Every day when you look in the mirror, isn't it a little different? Have you not had dreams of great, cyclopean underwater cities with impossible architecture? Of the fish-god Father Dagon? Of swimming free beneath the surface, of engaging in blasphemous midnight rites with your true kin? Maybe you're not quite as human as you thought you were.
Not Anything Special (Part 1)

Caspian x Reader

May 19, 2017

Word Count: 2383

Requested by: @coolcoolfantasy

Warnings: none

Note: GOSH I am so sorry this took so long! Thank you for being so patient! This prompt is amazing, and it got away from me so quickly, I’m going to have to split it up into parts! I hope you enjoy it!

I think it’s better if it’s a Caspian x  reader about how Caspian fall in love with a simple girl who came after Pevensies. Caspian forgets about Susan and fall in love with her even though she is not a warrior but just a normal girl.


The carriage jostles Y/N around for the umpteenth time and she inwardly groans. She hated coach rides, but her parents didn’t trust to send her across all of Narnia on a horse, but herself. An elderly lady, the only other person in the coach, glances up at her.

“Do you want something to help you sleep? I have some herbs in my pack,” she offers, motioning with knobby hand to the bag that sits between their feet.

“No, thank you, madam,” Y/N replies. She looks out the window. “I’ve just been on this coach for too long.”

The woman nods. “Are you going to Cair Paravel for the celebration of the Kings and Queens returning and helping to end the reign of the Telmarines?”

“No. My parents are sending me to the capital for a better life. My mother is friends with a servant in the castle and she has found me a position there,” Y/N tells the woman.  

The woman nods again, her hands returning to the weaving in her lap. “Opportunities are good when people are around the Kings and Queens.”

Y/N eyes the woman, whose hands were moving over the thread in her hands expertly, even though it was dark in the cabin. “You speak as if you knew them yourself.”

The woman chuckles. “I wish I had.”

“You might still,” Y/N offers, and the woman smiles sadly.

“Maybe so.”


When the carriage arrives in the city six hours later, the woman was asleep. Y/N leans forward to wake her, but her eye catches a bright flash of red and gold to the side and her hand falls instead around the edge of the window.

The walls of the Telmarine capital slowly grow taller as the coach travels deeper into the city. Y/N stares up in awe at the exquisite architecture, so much better than the small houses that littered her own village so many miles away. The carriage suddenly starts to slow and the old woman blinks awake.

“Oh, we’ve arrived,” she says, her voice raspier than before. “Why have we stopped?”

Y/N shrugs and leans her head out of the window to ask the driver the question.

“There’s a festival going on, madam,” he replies. “We’ll be stalled here for a while.”

The woman starts to put her things together. “Wait, what are you doing?” Y/N asks, and the woman stops and looks up at her with wide, blue eyes.

“I’m getting out. I want to see the Kings and Queens as soon as possible.” Y/N watches, dumbfounded, as the woman gets her things together, opens the door, and starts to climb out of the cab without waiting for someone to stop and help her. Y/N quickly grabs her things and pays the driver, following the woman.

“Can you show me the direction to the castle?” Y/N asks, and the woman glances over her shoulder.

“Follow me, dearie, and you’ll see them soon enough!” the woman calls, and Y/N scurries to catch up. She wasn’t necessarily looking for the family of royals, but she went with the woman anyway. They reach the edge of the courtyard that most of the crowd was gathered in, just in time to see an enormous lion and a boy watch as four people, two boys and two girls, walk through a man-sized hole in a tree and disappear. Cries erupt from the crowd and the dark haired boy turns away from the tree. He looks over the crowd, his jaw set tight, and Y/N’s stomach churns when his eyes flit from her to someone else.

“That was them,” the woman sighs, folding her hands in front of her. “I missed them again.”

“Again?” Y/N asks, and the woman turns and starts to make her way back through the crowd. “Wait, madam!”

“Go to the castle, young one,” the woman says, turning. She puts an unexpectedly strong hand on Y/N’s arm. “Do something amazing with this opportunity you’ve been given.”

Y/N nods, speechless, and watches as the woman hobbles through the crowd, disappearing in the mass of people.


(Four and a half years later)

“Y/N!” Amelie, the servant’s boss, whispers, and Y/N jolts awake. “You’re on breakfast duty! Remember to brush your hair today, because you’re serving!” Amelie bustles away, disappearing amongst the bunks that lined the room, waking the others.

Y/N rubs her eyes and sits up. She’s yanked back onto her pillow, though, by her hair that was caught under her bottom. She sighs in agitation and pulls her hair out from under her and sits up again, swinging her legs over the side. Standing, she stretches her arms and reaches for her toes, letting her back pop. She goes to her trunk and pulls out her clothes for the day and then moves quietly through the servant’s quarters.

She takes a quick bath in the cold water that was sitting in one of the tubs, waiting for someone to use it. After she gets out, she refills the tub with water from a spout in the corner of the room and then changes into her day clothes. Just as she was leaving, she remembers Amelie’s order to brush her hair, and does so. She pulls it into a braid before leaving the bathroom to go back to her bunk. There, she puts away her nightgown and pulls out her socks and boots.

Finally exiting the servant’s quarters, she takes a deep breath of Narnian air, putting her hands on her hips as she walks along the short cobbled path to the kitchen. She could hear the clatter of pots and pans and the shout of the cook to his kitchen staff before she even opened the heavy door, stopping to pet the stray cat that hung around the bushes outside the kitchen.

Heaving the door open, Y/N slips around the edge of the kitchen to where the other servants on serving duty were chatting, putting on their aprons and little bonnets that were customary for servants that would be amongst the king and other members of the royal court. Y/N picks up her own apron and starts to tie it around her waist. She had been on serving duty for the past few months, and had always been treated with the civility that King Caspian gave them all; she was happy that it wasn’t anything like the horror stories she had heard of how the Telmarines treated the staff.

“Y/N, I want you to lead the group today,” Amelie says, and Y/N nods in response. She had been comfortable in the position of leadership that Amelie had put her in the last few weeks, and was happy that she was being placed with the responsibility.

The servants line up next to the counter that the cook’s staff put the plates that were ready to be served on, relaxed and chatting, the younger girls giggling behind Y/N. The cook shouts out, “Service!” The servants straighten their shoulders in unison and fall silent, taking plates as they came. Y/N pushes the door open with her back, hands laden with plates of fruits and grilled meat.

Y/N makes her way to the table that consisted of the king and his valued court members that were lucky enough to live in the castle. Y/N and the rest of the staff fan out gracefully, setting plates down in synchronized movements.

As Y/N places King Caspian’s plates before him, he smiles up at her. Y/N bows her head, curtseying a bit, and could swear that he was watching her leave as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Y/N takes her place on the wall with a pitcher of fruit juice in her hand for the rest of the meal, ready to serve when she was beckoned. She didn’t look at the table directly, but watched the members of the court eat out of the corner of her eye.

At the end of the meal, the court leaves, single file. When the last member was gone, the team of servants swoop in to clean the mess and start to help prepare for lunch, where all members of the court and some of their family members would be joining. As Y/N stacks dirty plates on top of one another, placing silver ware in a shallow bucket, Amelie enters the room, scanning her staff’s faces.

“Y/N,” she says, making her way across the room. Her face was red, but Y/N couldn’t tell if it was from work or anger. Y/N straightens and her eyes widen, ready to be chastised if it were the latter. “What did you do during the meal?”

“I- I served, madam,” Y/N stammers.

Who?” Amelie says forcefully.

“The king, madam,” Y/N squeaks. “And then I served juice when needed. I stood against the wall when I wasn’t doing so, madam.”

Amelie searches Y/N’s face, the woman’s dark, greying hair whisked across her wrinkled forehead. Her eyes look furiously across Y/N’s face, looking for signs of lies.

“M-may I ask why you’re inquiring, madam?” Y/N says hesitantly.

Amelie runs a hand down her face, wiping sweat off. “The king has requested your presence,” she says, finally. “And I know you. You’re good and kind, and wouldn’t make a mistake big enough that the king would punish you himself. So this has to be a good thing. Go, clean up. He requested for you to meet him immediately.”

Y/N gulps, surprised. “Yes, madam,” she says, picking up her skirts so she could move quicker. Y/N pushes to the sink in the corner of the kitchen, dunking her hands in the pot of clean water and scooping water to her face. She scrubs her hands and smooths her dress before turning out of the kitchen door.

Walking quickly, her mind swimming, Y/N feels terror growing in her chest. What did she do? Did she touch him on accident? Did she have a nasty look on her face unconsciously? Did she not bow low enough? None of these things sounded like something the king would normally be upset about, but Y/N just didn’t know what she did.

“Excuse me!” a voice comes from the doorway that Y/N had just hurried past. She stops for a second, turning and looking over her shoulder. She was required to stop if it was a member of the court stopping her, but she was ready to tell anyone else that she had to go. Her mouth already parted to snap, her words die in her throat as the king himself stepped out from around the archway. “You are Y/N, right?” he asks, his accent strong.

Gulping, Y/N curtseys, ducking deeper than she usually did, in case that was what she was in trouble for. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Please, walk with me,” he says, motioning to the doorway. He waits for her to be at his side for he starts into the large courtyard that laid in the center of the palace. King Caspian doesn’t talk at first, but walks next to her with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at the greenery and statues that surrounded him. Finally, he stops in a small, secluded circle that was surrounded by hedges. A statue of a woman sits in the center, looking tall and regal.

“Do you know who this is a statue of?” the king asks her, looking down at her.

Y/N gazes at the statue. “Queen Susan? The Gentle?”

Caspian laughs. “No. This is her sister, Queen Lucy.” They both look up at the statue and he adds, “The Valiant.”

“Ah,” Y/N says, her voice shaking. “You knew them, right?”

“Yes, for a short time,” King Caspian replies. He looks down at Y/N again. “How long have you worked for the castle?”

“Four and a half years, Your Majesty,” Y/N replies.

“Please, call me Caspian. That means you were here when they left?”

“I arrived shortly after,” Y/N tells him. He sits on a stone bench and motions for her to join him. She sits as far as she could away from him, but it wasn’t much.

“And your accent and looks tell me you aren’t from this region,” Caspian continues.

Y/N touches her long, blonde braid. “No, Your Majesty- er, Caspian.”

Caspian nods, a soft smile on his face. They sit in silence for a few moments. A soft breeze flows through the small courtyard, and Caspian was quiet for so long that Y/N allowed herself a small second to enjoy the breeze. After almost five years, she still wasn’t used to how fresh the air was in the capital.

“I’m being advised by my court that I need to be married,” Caspian says, and Y/N snaps back to attention. “And…” he trails off, not looking at Y/N.

“And?” Y/N prompts, forgetting her manners for a moment.

“I’ve taken a liking to you,” Caspian says, turning to her. “I’d like to start courting you, if you would let me.”

Y/N stares at Caspian, her mind blank. “Excuse me?” she says, her mouth moving without her brain.

“I know this is sudden, but you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met,” Caspian says, his hands fidgeting. Y/N looks down at them. “And I’ve met with the women that the court has suggested for me, and none of them compare to you.”

Y/N looks back up at Caspian’s face. His wide, dark eyes stare back into hers. It wasn’t as if she could say no, right? He could have her banished, and it would be awkward to serve around him if he didn’t.

“Sure,” Y/N finally forces out, and Caspian’s face breaks out into a wide smile.


“Yes,” Y/N says, nodding.

“Fantastic!” Caspian says, standing and pulling her to her feet. Realizing that he had just touched her without her permission, he yanks his hands back and blushes. “Sorry. Okay. So, I’ll come and visit you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N says, amused at his boyish glee. How could he be so happy to be building a relationship with her? She wasn’t anything special. Other girls that she had seen around the castle that were drooling over the king were skilled in reputable tasks, such as archery or sword fighting or extremely intricate weaving. They were all incredibly smart. She was a mediocre weaver, and didn’t take any interest in weaponry. While she could read and write, she didn’t practice often.

“I’ll meet with you soon,” Caspian says again, bowing a little. She gasps as he leaves. He had bowed to her.

Pastel Blue - Taeyong x Reader - Superpower [Reader] Royals!AU

Pastel Blue ; Taeyong - Red & Grey ; Johnny - Rose Quartz & Serenity ; Doyoung

Dedicated to and requested by: the one and only amazing babe @taeyongbelviso ; have the happiest 18th birthday, darling! i love you so much <3

Word Count: 2329

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death and emotional parental abuse, Poverty

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Superpowers, Royals!AU

Your parents were afraid for the kingdom’s future.

When you had been born, you had brought joy to everyone, and they all couldn’t wait until you grew up.

You were going to be the best heir to the throne; everybody knew that your mother, the Queen, could no longer bear any children, leaving you to be the only one left to rule the lands when the time was to come.

Then came your ninth birthday. 

Keep reading

A Kings True Mate

Pairing: Thranduil x reader(half wizard/half elf), Thorin’s company, Gandalf, Legolas, Tauriel

A/n: Ok, this is completely full of firsts. First hobbit fic, first abo, first Thranduil. so if you don’t like this, fuck off (first cuss word on this lol) There will be more

I will be posting a list of all the word i use soon, I use a couple different sites to translate words so bare with me

Tag list: @douchepoolonsie @a-lonely-string @fandoms-writer @theoneandonlysaucymo @petlaufeyson @mysaria @hymnofthevalkyries @nea90sweetie 

Pat 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

               You traveled across Middle-Earth with Thorin and his company. Being the only female in the group was bad enough but being an omega was more than difficult. With most of the group being Alphas and only a couple being betas, which only caused more troubles than not during your heats. Which was why you were thankful for your father and one of the dwarfs for the herbs and the spell that reduces your heat drastically. Your father had always told you that the spell wouldn’t work if your true alpha was around you. Little did you know that you would soon meet him.

               You were on the edge of the forest that surrounded the elven kingdom when your father told you to stay with the dwarves and don’t let the forest get to you. You followed the dwarfs as they entered the forest. Taking your sword out, you knew trouble was on the way. Your elven ears could hear the sounds that came from large creatures that traveled through the trees. You turned to look at Thorin but was unable to seeing as he was clearly being affected by the forest and the darkness that laid here.

               “ Ten’ i’ mela en'” You started to say as spiders came out from every direction. Bilbo was off and doing whatever he does as you started to fight off the spiders, which took off once they had all the dwarfs taken up into the trees. With your quick reflexes, you climbed up the trees in search of your dwarven companions. If they were killed, your father would be disappointed with you. You managed to see what looked like the dwarves that your father left in your charge, wrapped in the thick sticky white silk that came from the spiders.

               The next thing you knew, 13 dwarf size silk pods fall towards the ground. You followed them down to the ground with swift movements of a full blooded woodland elf. The spiders started moving towards the dwarfs as you landed on the ground near Fili. You help some of them from the webs with your blade before readying yourself to attack the oncoming spiders. You stood with your back to Fili’s as the spiders attacked. The two of you saved Kili from one of the giant eight legged beasts. Who returned the favor with a couple of his arrows.

               “Thank you, Kili.” All he did was nod his head as the company took down more spiders. Until the woodland elves appeared, killing the rest of the spiders then taking all of you prisoner. You stood there as the dwarves complied and the elven group leader came up to you, staring at you as he took a deep breath.

               “Drop your weapons and no harm shall come to you.” From his tone of voice, you knew him to be the prince of the woodland realm Legolas. He never met you as for you father always traveled alone for many centuries to meet his father, Thranduil, as you had your beta many centuries ago.

               “I only listen to two, nessa er, and neither you are.” He looked at you with bright blue eyes as anger filled his face. He took in your appearance, you had the ears of an elf as well as the long beautiful hair of one but you held yourself like the wizard your father taught of you. To many you looked as if you were full elf, until you spoke. You were at times confused to be part dwarf because you were so short.

               “I see that a company of dwarves has what has been said to be the child of a traitor.” Without a second thought, you gripped the handle of your sword and moved faster than the other elves. You pinned Legolas to the tree behind him with the blade tip resting against his neck.

               “Silly little alpha prince. You really think you can belittle my mother with such words.”

               “(Y/n)!” Thorin yell at you. “Let him go. You know your father would be unhappy by such actions.” You turned your head and looked at him. That was when you noticed that a few of the other elves had surrounded you with blades drawn. You glared at Legolas and dropped your blade.

               “My father would be unhappy to hear that his only child was treated with such dishonor. By a little alpha prince none the less.” You could sense that a majority of the elven group were alpha males and a single beta female. One of the males came close to you, his hand reached for your cloak.

               “You need to drop all weapons, omega.” The male glared at you as you twisted away from his grip.

               “All I ever carry is a sword. Try to lay a hand on me again.” You pulled the hood of your cloak over your head and began to follow behind the dwarves who were now being led off by the female elf. You began thinking to yourself what your alpha would look like or even who he was. You were so in thought that you barely noticed the trek across the bridge leading to the woodland palace. You all were ushered into the throne room with the king sitting high throne.

               As soon as you came close to the throne, a strong scent filled your senses. The scent of your alpha filled the room as you stood at the back of the group of dwarves with Thorin at the front. Your hood still concealed your face, knowing the stories of the woodland elven king. You could hear some of the guards talk about you, which was never new.

               As you looked up at him, your mouth began to go dry and water at the same time. You wanted to find out what your alpha tasted like but you were afraid of what he would think of you not being full blooded elf. You watched him as his gaze traveled over the group before landing on your cloaked form. His face held an unreadable expression. You were so lost in thought of wanting him to claim you, to knot you that you didn’t even noticed that the conversation that he and Thorin were having shifted to you.

               “So, my guards tell me that you have one of elven kin amongst you.” The elven king looked at you as his nostrils flared with a deep breath. “She is what my guards have said to be the child of a traitor.” You stepped forward, shoving past the dwarves in front of you.

               “My mother is no traitor of the elven kin.  Amin agar naa en’ Rivendell, as my mother was.” You forced yourself to leave your hood up. “Adar would be very displeased to hear one like yourself call his once beloved to be called a traitor.”

               “Your father, who pry tell is your father?” He looked unamused by everything.

               “My father is…” You ripped off your cloak, reveling your elven given beauty. The dark green elven made battle dress hugged your body just right, just the way you loved. “My father is none other than Gandalf the Grey.” Your eyes looked at him, his eyes sapphire blue widened. You didn’t know your scent had affected him or if he knew you were his omega.

               “Send the dwarves to the dungeons, I would like to seek a word with lye ai Istar edhel.” You cocked an eyebrow at the elven king, your newly found alpha. Thorin gave you a sympathetic look before turning to direct the rest of the company, minus a hobbit. You turned your gaze back to Thranduil, not knowing what to expect once you heard the footsteps and dwarven mutters faded. Thranduil was closer to you than you were expecting, only mere feet now. His scent filled your nose and clouded your mind, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “I see how I affect you, amin lisse’ omega.” You bit your lip as he spoke to you while walking around you. You could hear him inhale deeply.

               “As I affect you.” It took everything in your power not to moan as you watched him glide around you. His tall frame tensed slightly as he continued to look down at you. You looked over his body and saw just how you affected him, clearly your scent affected the elf in front of you.

               “Why is there an omega traveling with a pack of alphas and betas? Especially when that omega had yet to meet her alpha and true mate.” The sound of his voice fell from his lips and washed over your ears like the silks in Rivendell.

               “I was also traveling with my father. I wanted to help the dwarves reclaim Erebor, which was planned by my father.” You stood your ground even though you wanted him to take you right then and there then knot you before his guards. “I do what my father asks of me and my father asked me to stay with the dwarves as well as keep them safe. Which l fell like I failed somehow.” He stepped right in front of you, his hand rested on your cheek as you looked down before he tilted your face up to him.

               “You have not failed at anything, amin lisse’ mela.” You looked into his clear bright sapphire blue eyes, you tried to find any hint of false tense but found none. The feeling of his hand on your cheek sent chills down your spine and made your heart race. You haven’t felt your heart like this in centuries, not since you had your beta. Unknowingly, a tear slipped past your lower lashes. Thranduil tenderly wiped it away with the soft pad of his thumb. “What troubles you amin lisse’?”

               “Nothing at the moment that concerns, Thranduil.” You see something flicker over his eyes as his name falls from your lips.

               “Everything about you now concerns me, my omega.” The hint of possession in his voice as he called you his omega.

               The two of you stood there longer than ether of you expected. You could hear the shouting of the female elf from earlier. Not a moment later, one of Thranduil’s guards walked in stating that the dwarves were gone. You looked from the guard to Thranduil, your eyes full of worry and panic. You could hear your father’s words in your mind, “Stay with the dwarves.”

                “I must go, Thranduil. If I don’t, I would fear the worse for them as well as a disappointed father.”

               “I do not wish for you to go, omega. They can tend to themselves. Your place is here now.”

               “No, not yet my Thranduil.” You reach up and place a hand to his cheek. “When all this chaos with the lonely mountain is over, then my place will be here by your side for all eternity.” You tried pleading with him through your eyes, you only hoped that it was working. He took a deep breath before sighing, knowing that there was no way to convince you to stay while the dwarves risked their lives for their homeland.

               “If you much take leave.” He motioned for the guard to come closer to him. The guard clearly knew what he was asking, handing him his own sword as yours was still lying on the ground in the forest. Thranduil handed you the blade with an almost pained expression. “Take this and be safe. If the serpent that lies sleeping in that mountain wakes, run. For if you don’t, you will be at my disposal.”

               “Aye, I will be ten’ amin naa lle Thranduil.” You stood on your toes and pulled him into a kiss. You could feel fire rush through your body as his lips softly against yours and his hands instantly resting on your waist. You had found your alpha during this quest for Erebor and now you were determined to finish it and return to him unharmed. “Guren bêd enni, I belong to you.” You pressed your lips to his one more time before standing in front of him flat footed. “I shall slay any who try to prevent me from returning to you. Tenna’ ento lye omenta.”

               You went to turn around but was only met with a hand on your arm. Thranduil’s hand gently wrapped around your arm, turning you back around and pressed his lips one last time to yours with a sad smile. “Tenna’ ento lye omenta, Melamin.” He quickly wrapped a silver chain around your neck before letting you run off to complete your quest. He watched as your hair flowed behind you. “manke naa amin utinu?” He didn’t even look at the guard.

               “He and Tauriel along with a few guards went after the dwarves.” His icy blue eyes landed on the guard.

               “Go, begin getting supplies for the people of Lake Town once they reach the ruins of Dale. I fear that the beast in the mountain will be woken soon. I will get back what belongs to me.” With one last look to where you once were, he turned and made his way to his chambers. His mind filled with the thoughts of your scent and the touch of your skin under his, the sound of your voice and many of how you will look under him as he marks you as his.