(Requested by the lovely hufflepuffturtle! And if you haven't already, go check out their amazing LOTR/Hobbit one shots book, it's incredible!)

Type: One shot

Pairing: Thranduil x Female (elf!) Reader

Warning: a bit angsty, end is fluffy

Translations: Garaviel = daughter of wolf

Enjoy!

Thranduil was a prince, the elven prince of Erin Galen, to be precise. He was destined for the throne in just a few months, when his father would pass on the crown to him in a very stiff and regal ceremony. Though as of late, his thoughts had not been occupied by the ceremony, as they should have been, but of a beautiful, kind, soft-spoken elleth named Garaviel. She was only a simple wood elf, a diplomat for the kingdom and of much lower status than he, yet Thranduil could not stop himself from wondering after her. The first time they had met was when his father had called all the best diplomats together so they could meet their soon-to-be king, and she had immediately caught his eye. She was fairly pretty, but not in an outstanding, obvious way, quieter, just like the elleth's personality. The longer they spoke that evening, the more the prince found himself drawn to her, and it worried him most nights. How could he ever be with an elleth of such a lower status than he? Could she ever be a good queen? What was best for the kingdom? Yet the question that haunted him the most was this: Could she ever see him as he saw her? To love him as he loved her?

Meanwhile, Garaviel was incredibly busy with her diplomatic duties, signing various documents, planning many peacekeeping visits to nearby settlements, fending off the occasional rampaging giant spider. She rarely had time for socializing with her fellow elves, and even when she did, she preferred to only speak when necessary. And her love life? Entirely non-existent. Perhaps when she found an elf as hardworking, serious, yet kindhearted as she, but for now, her work was all that mattered to the young elleth. But then, that evening when she met Prince Thranduil and they talked all evening, she found herself thinking of him fondly often afterward. It was after nearly a month that she realized that these emotions were romantic affections and began to question her incredibly busy life for the hopes of seeing him more and discovering more of these new feelings.

And so they slowly became friends, little by little growing closer and closer, and soon enough, neither could deny the strong love they felt for the other, though kept their emotions secret. Thranduil feared the social status would inhibit a possible relationship, while Garaviel held back for her fear and lack of understanding about love. The days wore on quickly and soon the coronation ceremony was here. Unfortunately, the old king was sending Garaviel away on the very day of, on a long journey to Rohan to present a newly edited diplomatic treaty between the two kingdoms. Both the elleth and elf were disappointed, but it couldn't be helped, and so the days went on as planned.

It was when Garaviel returned that the strong affections felt by the new king toward her were put to the test.

Shouts were the first signs of anything wrong, and then twelve medics rushing down the hall past Thranduil, in such a hurry they nearly knocked him over. "What's going on-" "The quiet diplomat, oh, um, what's her name- ah, yes, Garaviel! She is badly hurt!" cried one as she hurried on past. Thranduil's heartbeat screeched to a halt in his chest before skipping back to life. No, it can't be- But then she was carried past him, across the courtyard, on a stretcher. Her formerly soft golden hair was so matter with blood it had become brown. Her left arm stuck out at an odd angle and her breathing was gasping and labored. It seemed a miracle she was still alive. Thranduil followed the healers to the ward, his fists clenching and unclenching over and over with worry, his mind frantic with worry over her survival.

Over the next two weeks, Thranduil's father temporarily resumed leading the kingdom, as his son refused to leave Garaviel's side. Her health was slowly increasing and she was predicted to have a full recovery, though it would take a lot of time for her to be able to use her left arm again- if she woke up soon, that was. She was in what the medics described as a coma, a sleep so long and deep nothing except her own mind could wake her. Thranduil stayed by her bedside, day in and day out, wishing and praying for a sign of her waking, of her survival, but nothing came so far. He was beginning to lose hope by the start of the third week and carefully took her right hand into his own, kissing her knuckles softly and muttering a promise, "If you ever wake, I will make you my queen. I will love you forever, I swear on my throne."

A soft groan came from her lips then and her eyes fluttered open. "Th-Thranduil?" She seemed shocked to see him there. "What- no- you need to run- the orcs-" Garaviel struggled to sit up, but the new elven king gently pushed her back down, murmuring reassurances. "You're safe now. You are home, and so am I." She visibly relaxed after confirming his words as true through the sights of her surroundings, but then glanced down at their held hands and blushed. "I... I heard what you said," she whispered and looked nervously up at him. "Did you really mean you loved me? Be-because-" She managed a deep breath and admitted, "I love you," at the same time as Thranduil saying the same to her. They both smiled softly at each other for a moment before Garaviel felt a sharp pain in her head and winced. Thranduil frowned, beckoning over a healer, and gently kissed her forehead before standing up and stepping back as three medics swarmed her. They shared one last smile before he was pushed out of the room so the healers could attend to Garaviel, and the affection glowing in both their eyes was enough to show that their love was as sure and true as the sun shining bright in the sky high above.