It had been the dead of night when they arrived. No one had noticed them slip past the borders, shimmering silver against the starless shroud of black, like deadly spectres seeking their pray. Eyes acute and glowing, familiar with the dark; and bodies' swift and nimble. Citron hair and alabaster skin, reeking of ancient glade and sodden leaf, bow strings taught and silver knives begging to be whetted with Dwarvish filth and blood.
Not the guards on the night watch. Not the children who had stayed up far too late to whisper and giggle against their mother's orders. Not even the King.
No one had noticed them arrive, not until it had been too late.
The prince himself had been fast asleep, peacefully lost inside the distorted world of dreams, when the drums and horns signalling an invasion had torn him cruelly from slumber.
Thorin had barely snatched up his sword from beside his bed – where he always kept it, just in case a situation such as this ever presented itself – and rushed from his chambers when he was ambushed.
Clever, was the word that swept through Thorin's mind, as two icy towering figures beat him to the ground. They've probably already taken out all of the guards and set off the alarm themselves; and all to draw me out. The bastards aren't as dim as I thought.
A sharp elbow slammed down into Thorin's skull and his vision disappeared for a second, replaced for but a moment by fluorescent echoes of his two assailants, glimmering through the sudden darkness.
His head woozy, teetering from side to side, and his vision flitting off and on, like a candle fluttering against light breath; Thorin felt his arms being bound behind his back with tight, jerky movement's and dancing fingers that the prince found himself helpless against. Though the ability to think straight had been ripped away from him by the elves' assault, Thorin knew the twists and turns of his family's halls better than anyone else he knew, and it came to no surprise when the elves began dragging him to the throne room.
Once he was navigated through the halls of Erebor, Thorin did not need his once-keen sight, nor his right mind, to guess that they would not be alone, and he was right. A preternatural phantom that sat tall and straight, content with beguiling mock, in his grandfather's throne, greeted them with a small nod of his head.
The two Elvish guards restraining Thorin jammed the hilts of their knives into his back, forcing him down on his knees, such an degrading position for him to experience in his own home. The intricately carved metal of the hilt felt cold and perverse through the thin flesh of the prince's nightshirt; it was wrong for such a beautifully crafted article to be exploited in such a barbaric manner, and yet this was the purpose it had been designed to be used for.
Thorin blinked away the returning darkness, doggedly persistent to stay conscious in front of the obvious leader of his enemies.
The king was unlike any other elf Thorin had ever seen and he resented him on first sight. The not-so-subtle leer contorting thin, pink lips; the flawless glass skin stretched taut over impossible cheekbones; the pointed chin elevated high in wretched vanity; eyes of ice, fingers of ivory, hair of threaded silver, and a constant aura of narcissistic, powerful, ageless beauty that made Thorin sick to his stomach. Not to mention the stench of flora and young wood and sweet wine that sliced through the air, lingering like a poison in the back of Thorin's throat.
A ghostly whisper passed through the air like a soft breeze, and a thin, spiting smile curled the King's lips. "You may leave us." With a small flick of a narrow wrist, the guards were dismissed.
Slender, endless legs carried the King in all his glory, to stand over his prize. He slid through the air like a radiant ghost, a pearly dream, a silver nightmare.
Thorin shivered and shrunk under the Elvenking's intense, narrowed gaze, feeling it wash over his body, studying and noting every crevice, every scar, every detail. He could feel how the King looked down upon him with the amused and patronising pity than was often used to look upon young children and he was no child. The prince, still weary and broken from sleep and the pulsing agony in the back of his head, delved deep within himself to draw up the scraps of strength he still had to spit at the King's feet, and ward him off with the feeble swipe of his hand.
"What do you want with me, elf," Thorin asked, his voice a low, gravely rumble. The Elvenking's lips pursed for a moment, and then curled back over his teeth, like a cat, in that same sinister smirk.
In grand, glorious dichotomy, the King's Elven lisp was a honeyed, unwavering purr to Thorin's heated growl. "The same thing I want with your mountain, dwarf." The name-calling was accompanied with a slick grin, mocking almost, and dripping with childish glee. This was a game to him, was it now? Well, Thorin was certainly not going to play along. "Possession." Thorin swallowed thickly as the obvious word finally found its way into the light. The Elvenking continued, noticing and delighting in Thorin's discomfort.
"Does one not always take an interest in owning new toys? In controlling and bending them to their every desire? Is that not a King's job, to mould his kingdom in his own image, to make it great?"
"You are no king," Thorin hissed, spitting once more at the Elvenking's daintily clad feet.
At once the King's long, white fingers planted themselves in the sleep-mussed, ebony mess of Thorin's hair and the dwarf's head was jerked back. "And you are no kingdom, yet I still intend to mould, to control, and to possess you."
Thorin's neck tingled as the elf's breath crawled over his skin. He shifted back uncomfortably, feeling the elf's hand ease its grip on his locks and gracefully guide him back further. The dwarf prince smirked in defiance, thinking the Elvenking was backing down from his taunting demeanor.
"It did not occur to me that elves were so unsatisfied with their women that they'd turn to another race for nightly comforts. I pray Mahal has spared your elk from you lechery unless it was he who reaped the benefits..."
Thorin stifled a tremble from his body at the slight curl of the elf's lips. They pursed as the glossy blue eyes stared into the dwarfs'. The elf made no motion to respond to the dwarf's implication and allowed for an awkward silence to fill the hall. Thorin gulped by impulse, trying to keep a hardened glare without revealing his discomfort. The Elvenking raised his brow while he tilted his head to gesture his next action. Thorin let out a gasp as his hair was yanked back and his balance was thrown with it. The elf's fingers untangled themselves from his hair as he fell to the floor.
The dwarf grunted on impact and coughed when a stern force pressed down on his rib cage. Graceful words stung his ear as they spewed out of the elf's elegant mouth. Thorin looked up, eyeing the intricately designed boot pushing into this body. The dwarf looked to the elf but the Elvenking was speaking to his guards.
Thorin couldn't care to understand the hideous language, but his position beneath the elf was less becoming. The elf's power over him insulted his dwarvish pride. He waited until the elf's eyes were upon his own once again to watch him spit on the elf's refined boot. Unfortunately he was met with that same smirk that plagued his mind of ill thoughts. The elf knew he was in complete control over the dwarf and no amount of insult from the captured prince would sway him to relinquish that power.
Thorin tried to stay in control of his boiling emotions that flustered at the lack of response. The elf removed his boot from the dwarf's body and Thorin seized the moment get himself up. The moment he turned on his side to scramble to his feet was met with the elf's boot returning to slide across his nightwear to remove the dwarf's spit while pushing the dwarf over to his stomach. The cold metal of the blunt side of a sword pressed flat against his ear.
Thorin held his breath waiting for the elf's next action. There was a pause and eventually his breath escaped from the prolonged wait. He was sure the elf could feel the slight anticipated tremble his body through the sword. It held perfectly against him without moving an inch. Thorin's patience dwindled as the elf toyed with him.
"Hurry up elf!"
The elf let out a smug breath and trailed the swords point down the dwarf's back, drifting over his bound arms. Thorin's spine quivered at the touch until the blade slowly reached near his arse. The blade teasingly drew over one of his curved cheeks. Thorin tightened his muscles, trying to sink further into the floor to distance himself from the blade. He gasped as it pressed into his cloth just above the crease between his cheeks. Thorin's heart beat faster as the painful pause returned. He trembled beneath the blade and made no motion to protest or insult the elf, too distracted by the blade that might slip if he moved.
As time passed and the blade stayed in place, Thorin eventually got used to its presence as his body had grown tired from his constant trembling. His heart returned to normal along with his defiant nature.
"Are you merely enjoying the sight of a race mightier than your own?"
The Elvenking hummed with amusement, the long wait for his guards began to bore him. He kneeled with his blade kept in place and let his delicate finger brush against the prince's arse. Thorin recoiled and winced from his movement urging the blade to poke into him slightly. The elf continued to say nothing as his fingers gently petted the dwarf's clothed skin. Each stroke receiving a sudden twitch from the dwarf's tensing muscles.
"Enough!"
Thorin's voice barely resounded with the strength he meant to put behind it. The constant touches against his rear sending the elf's lecherous thoughts surging through his body.
Finally the guards returned and Thorin watched one bring a basin with towels and the other carrying a clattering chain. The putrid sound of the elf's voice finally came out again as he commanded his elves in his Silvan tongue.
Thorin grit his teeth at the sight of the chain being carried behind them towards the throne where he couldn't see. His ears picked up the sound of the air splitting and the clash of the metal chain against the stone throne in some dishonouring manner. When the sounds faded the guards stood at either side of the dwarf. The blade was removed as they began to cut his cloth with their elvish daggers, fighting against him as he struggled. It was easy for both their size and number. One brought him to his feet by a stern grip on his bound arms. They turned the naked dwarf to face their King who was sitting back on the dwarven throne, fondling a chain that dangled from the tall backed stone that still held the Arkenstone in place.
Thorin didn't have a moment to curse out an insult as his body received a painfully cold splash of water. The dwarf prince inhaled sharply before another splash hit him. The elf responsible held a cloth that they flicked across the basin in their arms, ungracefully towards the captive prince. It seemed highly un-elf like but Thorin was too busy recoiling from the freezing temperatures abruptly hitting his skin. After a few more splashes the elf stopped and brought the horrid basin to rest beside their King's feet. Thorin bit his lip trying to stop shivering in front of the damned elf.
The Elvenking held his bemused smirk as his guards brought his captive prize towards him. He stood and stepped aside, catching the dwarf's eyes glaring at him as his guards forced the dwarf onto the throne by his knees. Thorin's head was pressed against the back of the throne as the rope that bound his hands was untied to change his arms position. The guards adjusted his limbs so they could hang above his head from the chain.
Thorin felt the elves withdraw from his body and walk around the throne. For a moment he realized his position, bent over on his knees giving a perfect view for the perverted elf. His thoughts were jarred when the chain hoisted his body up unexpectedly, lifting him to his feet. The Arkenstone glimmered in front of his face. Thorin hissed at this defilement of his grandfathers throne.
Grandfather!
Thorin was too caught off guard by the elf's taunts to consider what might have happened to his family. He turned his head to slightly look over his shoulder, just barely seeing the top of the Elvenking's head reach the corner of his eye.
"What have you done with them!"
Thranduil was speaking with his guards when the prince's sudden shout broke through their conversation. He glanced at the dangling prince and continued to speak quietly to his guards.
*Cursing in Khuzdul*
The elf's guards left the hall and Thorin could hear their king walk over to the throne. Sounds of water drops sent a shudder through his body as the elf picked up the cloth from the icy water. Thorin's voice trembled but he needed an answer.
"What have you done with King Thror!"
Thorin's body jerked when the elf's gentle hand sneaked around his stomach, heating his shivering skin beneath it. His back heated slightly from the close distance as the elf's lips neared his ears without touching him.
"Your stubborn race is waiting in my dungeons for my judgement. I must say it will be a prolonged wait as I've found their treasure is offering hours upon days of entertainment."
Thorin snarled and hissed as his rage took over and he spat out in Khuzdul by accident.
The Elvenking smirked and drew the cold cloth up the dwarf's stomach. The dwarf hatefully recoiled back into the elf's warm body. Thorin hissed as his body refused to back away from the elf as the cloth gently slid back down and away from him. The elf's hand curved around his abs to wipe away the shivering bumps.
"Get away!"
Thorin cursed when the elf withdrew from his body to gather more water. His teeth chattered uncontrollably knowing it was going to touch him again.
"If I am so kind to offer my sincere advice, it may benefit their sentencing if their prized prince curbed his tongue when in his King's presence."
"You're not my King!"
Thorin launched his leg to deliver a harsh kick, the force of the motion allowed the chain to twist along with his body. Unfortunately the elf had the upper hand and caught the dwarf's ankle, bringing it up higher and watching the dwarf try to keep his balance on his toes, back pressing into the throne. The elf took a moment to admire the sight of his two prizes, the Arkentone shining just above the dwarf's curved locks. The terror stricken expression drawn over the prince's face as his leg raised higher, exposing his genitals and leaving him defenseless.
The elf's lips curled with smug delight as he leaned in, continuing to lift the dwarf's leg till it could stretch no more. His eyes lit up while he brought the cool towel to hover just beneath the dwarf's thigh.
"You will call me Master Thranduil my pet, since King displeases you so."
Thorin shuddered a gasp as the towel quickly slid down his thigh and cupped his genitals in the elf's cold grasp. His body erupted in violent shudders, threatening his remaining balance. The cloth was removed but the chill to his skin remained. Thorin's teeth clattered as he tried to glare at the elf. His eyes picked up the sight of the cloth about to return to his nether regions. Thorin winced and turned his head squinting his eyes shut. The chilled feeling didn't come, instead the elf's breath heated his ear.
"Excellent my pet, I was worried submission may not suit your looks but you are more beautiful when you shudder away in acceptance."
Thorin eyes popped open, whipping his head back to meet the elf's too close to his own. Thorin snarled and readied himself to spit at the elf's pretty face. The Elvenking was now experienced with the dwarf's spitting behaviour and ducked down beneath the dwarf's legs and stroked Thorin's genitals again. The unexpected chill threw his head back and disrupted his lewd act. Thranduil had one leg off the throne while he sat on the other, remaining annoyingly graceful as always. He was enjoying the sight beneath the dwarf, fondling the towel to wash from front to back, still holding the dwarf's ankle above his head.
Thranduil let Thorin's leg rest while he soaked the towel again. When he turned back to the dwarf prince he could see Thorin was ready to try again. Thranduil cocked his brow in amusement and walked behind the throne. Thorin hissed as the elf disappeared then grunted when the chain pulled him up higher so only his toes touched the seat. Thranduil reappeared with the same smirk across his face, knowing how little Thorin could struggle against him. He brought his foot to step on the throne and paused infront of the defiant prince.
"Perhaps my pet requires an audience with the former king of his mountain. I would be delighted to summon him if that pleased you."
Thranduil's lips pursed in delight. Thorin gasped in quiet horror at the thought of being displayed in front of his grandfather like this. Thranduil tilted his head mockingly.
"No? That is a disappointment. Perhaps you would like to refrain from your uncouth acts."
Thorin bit his lip, he would have loved to spit on the elf again but feared his grandfather being forced to watch both his throne and grandson be defiled by this perverted elf. Thorin growled and turned his head in acceptance of Thranduil's' terms. Thranduil stepped on the throne to rejoin his prize, standing near the dwarf's side as the cold cloth was brought against the other. Thorin clenched his fists as his body pressed into the elf's heat. Thranduil toyed with his pet, switching his position and forcing the dwarf to recoil into him for heat.
Thorin kept his eyes shut as his body was cleaned to the elf's standards. One last douse and the elf brought the towel against the dwarf's chest. Thorin pressed his back into the throne until the towel was removed, this time replaced by the elf's lips against his skin. Thorin's eyes flew open to see the elf watching him. Thranduil licked his pet's chest to his neck and drew back. Thorin shuddered under the elf's presence. His lips trembling at the thought the elf was going to take his body now. Thranduil brought the cloth to wipe over Thorin's face and rest over his eyes, blinding him to the elf's actions.
Thranduil grabbed the braid at Thorin's beard and tilted his head back, allowing the towel to rest without aid. Thranduil's free hand drifted over the prince's shivering skin, detailing his muscles with great care. The next moment Thorin felt the elf's lips against his own, shifting against his appreciatively. Thorin only responded by tensing his lips shut, but the elf's fingers slipped down his arse and a single finger snuck between the crease. Thorin gasped and found the elf's tongue slipping into his mouth, flicking across his teeth then meeting his tongue. The finger prodded his tightened muscle, forcing him to groan instead of biting the elf's tongue off. It poked and gently fiddled its way to just barely breach him without discomfort.
Thorin's body returned to its trembling state, arching away from the invasive appendage but pushing into the elf's body even more. Thranduil with drew his lips to barely glide across the prince's ear.
"I will cease my advances if you submit and pronounce the words I told you to speak."
Thranduil pulled away to tower over the prince's face watching the dwarf tremble in thought. His finger curled and moved in circles, slowly pushing in a little bit further. Thorin was lost in fear and anger, the elf's intrusion in his body arousing his groin. He was shaming his grandfather with his unwanted erection. But submitting to an elf that defiled his home was unforgivable. Thoughts of the elf thrusting into his body flooded his mind.
No no no no...
Thorin clenched his teeth trying to fight off the thought. His mouth propped open when the elf's tongue trailed over his erect nipple.
"Master!"
Thorin was too drowned in fear to realize what he'd shouted. Thranduil's grin grew wider and he removed the towel from Thorin's eyes to look at the terrified blue eyes. He pushed his finger in deeper with a bemused look. Thorin whimpered, squinting his eyes shut.
"Thranduil!"
With that the elf retracted his finger from the dwarf's body and stepped off the throne. Thorin panted from his racing heart, the chain propping him up loosened till he could fall to his knees. Thorin kept his head low, shame washing over him as he realized he willingly accepted being the elf's pet. He bit his lip again but a pale hand gentle brought his chin up to meet the elf's lips nuzzling his cheek. Thorin winced squinting his eyes away from his new master. He could feel the elf smile across his cheek. His stomach clenched, bile building in disgust.
Footsteps entered the hall and the guards returned with their King's requested trinkets. Thorin didn't look at them, he kept his eyes on the mine's wall. He didn't struggle when they hooked a bit of metal around his neck and felt a chain lightly graze his skin. Their next movement stole his attention as a metal ring was clasped around his cock. Thorin shifted back too late, he looked down at the beautifully carved collar around his neck, the thinnest chain he'd ever seen, lightly beaded with blue and green jewels, connecting the collar to the ring around his cock. The guards forced Thorin away from the back of the throne so they could detach the chain and re-attach it to his new collar on the backside.
The guards moved again and one brought the chain over the throne to tighten, keeping Thorin's head up while he was still able to sit. They left without another word and Thranduil's eyes were admiring his race's handiwork. Thorin looked away from the lecherous stare but the heat of the elf's presence returned to his body. Thranduil's hand lightly trailed over the dwarf's cock to trace the ring and follow the chain up his body to meet it neck. He turned the dwarf to face him once again, giving off a satisfied smirk.
"Do you like your new formal attire? My elves crafted it to meet your needs my pet."
Thorin glared and hissed at the elf.
"MY needs are not of yours elf!"
Thranduil cocked his brow and gently lifted the delicate chain to pull the dwarf's cock to attention. Thorin's glare narrowed further.
"I suspect Thror would be delighted to find his crown was still able to be passed down to his future heir, despite losing all title to his mountain."
Thorin's eyes flashed in shock. He looked down at the metal on his body, the hue of grey he only remembered on heirlooms as well as the King's crown.
"Mithril..."
Thorin snarled and screamed his anger at the disrespectful elf.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU DEFILED MY PEOPLE'S HERITAGE!"
Thranduil's lips pursed.
"Wrong my pet, you defiled them as they are touching your consenting body."
Thranduil chuckled.
"I'm sure your race will have no issues welcoming the newly redesigned crown. Your people have a history of adjusting to any circumstances."
The elf leered over his prey victoriously. Thorin clenched his teeth and launched himself at the elf without any tactic whatsoever. The chain stopped him mid way and pulled him back. Thranduil smiled as he stood.
"Sleep well my pet..."
Thorin screamed and shouted, watching the elf leave him alone in the halls. He continued to scream and curse the elf race until his throat could no longer make a sound. He hissed and looked at his ancestors heirlooms decorating his body. His grandfather's crown melted down for the ring around his cock. Thorin's heart broke at the sight. Tears flooded his eyes as he quietly cried himself to sleep.
