"Bleed him"

Can I play with madness?

⚠️Mentions of abuse, crying, trauma + Thranduil's bad parenting⚠️
...................................................

~previously~

"...After he had left, I made my way back to Mirkwood. I was exited to see father again and my friends again but as soon as I had seen the first elf, I new something was wrong..." Legolas said, voice slightly quivering "...They weren't looking at me the same. They did not seem happy at all that I was back, they almost seemed disgusted. They treated me like I was not even there..."

~
3rd person PoV:

"...After he had left, I made my way back to Mirkwood. I was exited to see father again and my friends again but as soon as I had seen the first elf, I new something was wrong..." Legolas said, voice slightly quivering "...They weren't looking at me the same. They did not seem happy at all that I was back, they almost seemed disgusted. They treated me like I was not even there..."

"W-Why?" Fabian asked, looking afraid to know the answer, voice quivering as he spoke.

"Well I didn't know at first..." Legolas replied, fingers going practically white through the constant fiddling of them "...But I of course went to my father first in the throne room..." He said, eyes glazing over with tears as he remembered.

Legolas smiled slightly, face relaxing as he stared up at his father on the throne "Ada?..." He called out, taking a weary step towards the king, his hand slightly reached out to him as if his legs could not do the work of running to the elf.

Thranduil's gaze didn't shift under the call, icy eyes still staring down at his son with anger and shame, practically frozen that way into his skull.

"Father?" Legolas called out again, this time in common-tongue. He moved his hand back down to his side shakily, not knowing what to do, not knowing what he had done to cause his father to look at him like that.

Thranduil's gaze eventually softened, it looked as if it pained him to do so, it looked as though he still wanted to stare down at his son with hatred. The King stood off his throne and made his way down the steps that led up to it, his light footsteps echoing unpleasantly throughout the hall, each step corresponding with the beat of the prince's unsteady heart.

As the sound of the final footstep rung in Legolas's ears, his father finally stood face-to-face with his son. Legolas couldn't take it any more, he needed the comfort, he needed the freedom, he had escaped that place for the sole purpose of it. But now with his father staring down at him, not knowing what he had done, not knowing why that hadn't missed him, he reached out to his father. His pale hands grasping weakly onto the kings silver cloak, head resting against his fathers chest as he sobbed. Tears escaped his eyes, using Thranduil's cloak to place its sorrow, staining it with its pain. Trying to find any sort of comfort, any love from that man that he called his father, the man who hadn't raised him but the man who he looked up to.

He didn't even need to ask. Even with the plain hatred in the silence, the hate-filled stares of his once friends, the disgust in their eyes as they watched the once confident and happy prince fall to his knees. His hands slipping from their grasp on his fathers cloak and falling to grasp at the floor, creating lighter intends on the dark oak wood as he scraped the floor with his fingernails, tears creating tiny puddles on the wood as they fell from his eyes.