Legolas Oneshots & Headcanons (Discontinued)

You're Not To Blame (Angst/ Modern)

      Tapping the arm of the chair, I breathed out and met Mr. Greenleaf's eyes.

       A smooth green button down shirt with his gold tag on the front blessed my eyes. Black dress pants and sleek shoes. His hair was long as ever, but braided differently, still pinned from his face.

      I'd been going to him for a few months now, and there was some progress.

      He was light, and made me feel comfortable with him, but could be stern when needed.

       Flipping through the papers in his hands, he furrowed his brows.

       "What is that?" I asked.

       "Just your files. You can tell me whenever you're ready, Y/N." He replied smoothly.

       After a long silence, I took a breath. "It's (Someone's name). They make me feel like I need to be perfect," I breathed.  "I can't be myself when I'm around them, and I'm so scared that if I screw up they'll get angry. And possibly do something."

        He didn't cut in, but nodded, encouraging me to continue. "And (someone's name) makes me feel so stupid for trying things sometimes. (Gender pronoun) expect you to get it right the first time."

       Just talking about them made my heart race faster, to relive the memories, to think about them.

      It was like being asked to take a test, on an unfamiliar subject, that you hadn't prepared for.

       "Sometimes I want to vanish, honestly. I feel so worthless sometimes," At this point I didn't care anymore and let a lone tear slip down my cheek.

        Mr. Greenleaf sat forward, the papers rustling as he set them down. "Y/N, I can't say much because I haven't gone through what you have," he began carefully.
      
                                  *

        Sure, Thranduil had never really talked much about his mother when she died, and the topic was forbidden, if you will. But he wouldn't consider him abusive.

         The distress in your voice and on your face conveyed all he needed to know, and in a way, he sort of related to it. Having to keep up an image as a Prince, never showing fear, even if he was truly scared.

        Nobody really seeing him as more than just the Prince. Sometimes he just wanted to be seen as Legolas.
               
                                   *

        "But you're not to blame." He finished. "May I hold your hand?" He asked, earning a nod from me.

         Quickly grasping my right hand to his, he rubbed a thumb over my hand. "But let me tell you, Y/N, you are worth it. You are worth your life, you are worth all the good things that life can possibly offer. Happiness, love, humour, anything else you can think of."

       Shaky breaths filtered from my lips, and I shut my eyes, willing myself to not cry. The soothing words somehow hit my heart and mind. 

           "But if you choose to, this experience will only make you a better and stronger person than (someone's name) ever was."

         He's seen things too. But he would understand, since he was a Prince, right?

         "So don't be perfect. It's okay to screw up, it shows that you're human. I get that, I do, being a former Prince and all, people expect you to have this image of never being scared, for example."

          "Everything you went through was not deserved. Not at all. I'll help you as much as I can, if you'll let me."

           This only made me cry harder, choked up sobs leaving me now, at the sudden enlightenment.

        Intellectually, I knew, that I didn't deserve it. Nobody deserves that kind of treatment. But maybe I just needed someone to say it to me.

            His brown eyes crossed over my e/c ones, notes of empathy swimming in them.

            "But just know, that you're not to blame."