User:Unlikely shitcock

[center] A loud noise of glass shattering into thousand pieces echoed in the room that otherwise was very silent. You had been deep in your thoughts and as you had turned you had bumped into a small table and caused a glass vase to fall off. You felt your heart stopping when you turned and saw the mess on the floor; flowers, water and glass. You knelt quickly and started to clean the floor by collecting first the ruined flowers and then the sharp pieces of glass.

You gasped for air as you tried to suppress a scream caused by a cut. You started to cry. It was just too much with everything that had been going on in your life lately. Your parents had been killed by spiders just a little time ago. Therefore you had submerged yourself into your work in order to distract yourself from the grief. Suddenly the door opened. You panicked because you knew that it could not be anyone else than the king himself. You knew that you were not supposed to be seen or heard and being in the chambers at the same time with him was just unacceptable. It was commonly thought that the servants did their job well when they were nowhere to be seen. You stood up, tried to hide the cut on your hand and bowed deeply. Thranduil had not expected anyone to be in his chamber and his first reaction was to let out an annoyed sigh mixed with an irritated groan. He looked at the floor and noticed the mess. Then his eyes shifted into you.

- What is happening here? he asked. His tone was cold and assertive. - My king… you answered and tried to swallow your tears. - Speak! he ordered. - An accident, my king. you sobbed. He noticed the cut on your hand, although you were trying to hide your hand with a cloth which was now turning red. - Your hand. he stated. - Uhm… just a small cut.

He walked towards you and offered you his hand. You did not react. He motioned you to extend it to him with a delicate gesture. You gave your hand to him hesitantly, it was clenched into a tight fist holding the cloth. - Open it. he ordered and took the cloth from your hand when you did. His eyes widened when he saw the cut. It was quite deep and wide, bigger than he had expected. He called the guard and asked him to get the healer. Not for the wound because that he was able to heal with his elvish magic but because you were shaking and crying uncontrollably. He walked you to the bathroom and submerged your hand into cool water that turned red immediately. You squeaked slightly and bit your lip so your thoughts would shift from the pain that you could not control to the pain that you could; your teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of your lower lip.

After the wound had been washed he held your hand in his and with his other hand he gently softly ran his fingers on and around the wound. He spoke silently in elvish and slowly the wound started to heal. After a moment the healer entered the room with a small glass bottle. Thranduil let go of your hand, washed his and then took the glass bottle. He poured a couple of drops of the medicine into a glass and filled it with wine. He brought the glass to you. You shook your head. - Drink this. he ordered. - No, please… you sobbed but his expression was turning from calm to upset. He told you once more to empty the glass and this time you did not fight back. The wine tasted sweet but there was a fine undertone of bitterness from the medicine. You felt your body getting numb and feet soon giving in. A terribly strong feeling of tiredness washed over you and your world went black. The last thing you felt was a pair of strong arms grabbing you before you hit the floor and a sound of the kings robe swishing next to your ear.

The next hours were a bit hazy. You woke up a couple of times and when you looked around you, everything seemed to be covered in a haze, even the king that was napping beside his bed in an armchair. You fell back to sleep, this time into terrible nightmares. Thranduil woke up when he heard you calling for help and sleeping very restlessly. He sat on the bed beside you and held your hands against the bed so you would not hurt yourself in your sleep. He stared at your face that looked tired, tormented and worried from a close distance. Your beautiful features buried in grief and sorrow. Then you woke up, gasped for air and as a reaction jerked your upper body off the mattress.

Your lips accidentally crushed on his because they happened to be there. As soon as you realized what had happened you let your body to fall on the pillow and tried to cease existing. You stared into the blue eyes of the king and tried to figure out whether you should apologize, pretend that it never happened or just keep silent and wait for the king to punish you for such foolish, although entirely accidental, action. Suddenly he smiled. He did not say anything but just smiled. You were confused and unable to move or say anything. The king leaned closer and closed his eyes before his lips were on yours again. He kissed you softly, carefully feeling and exploring your soft rosy lips. After a moment of processing what was happening you encouraged your mind and relaxed. You answered his kiss as well as you could, although you were nervous because the king was stealing your first kiss, the one that you had hoped to share with someone special someday. In your fantasies and daydreams that someone special was Thranduil. The nervousness melted away soon as the kiss intensified, still remaining modest, sweet and gentle. The king left out a soft “mmm” –sound when his lips parted from yours. He touched your nose with his and caressed your cheek with his lips just brushing softly before drawing back unwillingly.

Your heart was racing. The fact was that you had a crush on the king and you had been admiring him from afar for many years now. You had never expected anything like this to happen but now you were there laying on his bed, your lips tingling from the kiss. Your mind was spinning, partially from the medicine still. Your world felt unreal, you felt unreal. The king lay down beside you and neither of you said anything.

You woke up for real this time. Your mind was crystal clear now and the whole situation was finally sinking in. You turned your head and saw the king sleeping behind your back. You tried to come up with a way to get out from the bed without waking up Thranduil. You turned to lay on your bag and stared at the ceiling with wide eyes that were filled with terror and confusion. You sat up and listened if the breathing of the king changed as a sign that he had woken up. It did not. You sighed relieved. - Where do you think you’re going? You froze. He was awake after all. - I need to clean the mess… - No… No more cleaning for you. I cannot court a maid, can I? he asked and next you felt two strong hands on your shoulders, pulling you down to lay on the bed again. He was too strong to resist so you lay down, leaving his arm under your upper back. He pulled you closer and pressed your head to rest on his chest as he ran his fingers up and down on your arm. - How is your hand? - It is alright. you answered with shaky voice. - Show me. he said and took it. He caressed the skin with his fingers and then pulled your hand on his lips. He pressed a soft kiss on your palm and then lay the hand on his heart. - Now… this is where you belong.

The truth was that Thranduil had noticed you around a decade ago when he was visiting the elven village. His feet had been completely swept off when he had seen you smiling so he had arranged you to work in the court. He had also personally ordered your promotion to manage his chambers when you always had seemed to slip away when he was coming to talk with you. You were a maid, yes, but your parents had been trusted friends of Thranduil so he knew that your bloodline was more than respectable. Noble or not, he had decided to let his feelings to be known and maybe, if he was lucky, the feeling was mutual. Now he was holding you, ready to share the grief of the death of your parents and to share whatever sorrows and joys the life brought on your path; the path that you no longer walked alone but side by side with the king himself. [/center]