prismatica | {Video; UN: elvenking}

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{Video; UN: elvenking}

{He is a king without his elegant trappings - but, really, he doesn't need them. The robe he wears catches the light with the smallest of motions, glittering faintly as if precious jewels are woven in the fabric. His hair is bound into a single thick braid that lays against his back and his circlet is elsewhere - as are his rings.}

How many parents reside in Lunatia? Are you separated from your children if so? {The flickering light on the table before him is all the illumination he requires as he works on a sketch. The drawing depicts trees and a variety of animal life beneath their mighty boughs.}

My fear for my son increases by the day and I have found no relief for it. I hardly realized how helpless I could feel as a father.

{His attention shifts from the sketch of the forest to a second sketch of a face much like his own - yet different enough that it must be his son.}

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[ And Maglor loves when Thranduil gives him this control without argument. He never abuses it. Never speaks of it. Knows for himself how heady it is to give that control up.

He leans just a little into the hand against his cheek. He believes those words, maybe he shouldn't, but he does.

And then the glamor falls and he draws in another, unsteady breath. His hands itch and burn in sympathy as he takes in the horrendous damage done. But he doesn't recoil in disgust and there is no pity in his eyes when Thranduil looks at him.

No. There's sorrow and anger - anger at the dragon who'd done this to his mate - in his eyes. And awe that holds him to silence. Thranduil trusts him with this. He knows better than to touch that ruined side. But slowly, he unwinds one arm from his mate's waist and reaches up to cup the unharmed side, making sure Thranduil sees. ]

Oh my Thranduil...How far...?

{The control is given precisely because he has come to trust Maglor. Said trust is also why he is willing to reveal this side of himself that he hides from everyone - even himself. The hand on Maglor's cheek remains, but as his wounds are revealed, his fingers tremble and he finds it impossible to meet the other Elf's gaze.

He can imagine the disgust, the horror and he wants to see none of it. Of course not seeing is rather easy when one of your eyes is blind. However the hand on his cheek shocks him into looking at Maglor - and shattering his plans - and what he sees...

No, he must be mistaken. His brow furrows and he tries to read Maglor's expression again. Where are all the emotions he thought he would find? Why does the understanding in the other's eyes make him want to cry?

Instead of answering verbally, he lets his robes fall open, revealing the scarring that travels down half of a chest, his arm, his side...}

Elrond did not leave my side.

[ He treasures this trust. Maglor will protect it and Thranduil to his last breath. This secret is not one he will share with anyone. He feels the fingers tremble and turns his head enough to press a gentle kiss to the palm, though his gaze does not leave his mate's.

And then the robes fall open to answer him. Still not disgust as he looks his lover over. Not touch. Not sure it would be welcome as he listens to the...reassurance? that his fosterling had tended this elf for so long and this was the best result? ]

...I had never wished you to understand. [ A breath. A sigh. ]

Does it hurt...when I touch you?

[ He's kissed and touched and nibbled on almost every inch of Thranduil, after all. Technically he knows the answer. He still needs to hear it. ]

{Something calms within him at the kiss and he is able to breathe deeper. As much as he hates his scars, Elrond was right: the pain is not as intense as it was when he first received them. He can think through it and understand that he is not in battle or about to be devoured by some foul worm.

No, he is actually in the presence of an Elf he has come to love. He dares to reach for Maglor's hand, tracing the scarring with gentle fingers.}

Likewise. {The question makes him smile - as best as he can.} No. I crave your touch, Maglor. I dream of your hands on me.

{His smile fades and he looks down at their hands.}

Do you wish to remain with me?

[ The pain Thranduil had been in twists his gut and makes his heart hurt. He leans into the hand on his cheek again and allows his hand to be taken. For the horrible burn there to be traced.

He realizes now that yes. He loves this elf. Fiercely. Desperately. Undeniably and with no more reservations. Being told that someone, anyone - much less Thranduil who has been so badly hurt - craves his touch? Has his breath hitch and he swallows heavily as he sags back against the back of the couch in relief. ]

I could not bear it if my touch brought you pain.

[ The question - that question - has the start of an almost hysterical laugh threaten to bubble up and out, but he stamps on it. Instead, he tightens the arm still wrapped around his mate and threads their hands together, lifting them up to rest between them. ]

Yes. For as long as you will have me, I would stay with you.

[ He feels he is still the more broken of the two. Thranduil still has a kingdom waiting for him. A people looking to him to rule and guide them.

Maglor has nothing but memories and a self-appointed task to never forget. ]

{As he lets his glamor fall back into place - for his own physical comfort - he brings Maglor's hand to his lips, kissing the scars. They are not ugly to him; he has now shown Maglor why he understands burns rather intimately.

The relief his answer causes warms his heart. Now that his face is whole again, he presses Maglor's hand to his cheek, closing his eyes to enjoy the simple, sweet contact.}

I would have told you. {His lips twitch; he is not a docile Elf and he knows how to speak his mind. His next question is necessary, however, and it banishes any amusement he might feel. Thranduil has no desire to chain Maglor to him; that isn't love. And he genuinely likes the path the other Elf has decided to take. He wants Maglor to heal.}

Truly? {The answer amazes him and he shifts closer, resting a hand on Maglor's chest.} I will have you here and on Arda.

[ Well then. Maglor sets to pressing light, little kisses slowly to what skin he can reach without letting go.

Being reminded that yes, Thranduil is an elf not afraid to speak his mind, that he would have told Maglor, is another balm and he darts in to kiss those twitching lips. Light and sweet in silent thanks.

But then he lightly presses their foreheads together at the latter. At the awe in the question. He covers the hand pressed to his chest, feeling how that simple touch helps sooth the racing heart caged in his chest. Helps calm it. ]

I will shout my devotion to you, if that would please you. I will follow you back to the Greenwood, if that is where you wish me to be. I will leave my exile, if you want me by your side.

{He would have told Maglor without hesitation if he was uncomfortable. They are both warriors, after all, and Thranduil knows how to use a sword or a knife. However Maglor's touch has never been anything but good for him. He likes the marks on his skin and how the other seeks out a kiss when they are near.

Imagining that you serve some higher purpose isn't quite the same as knowing - feeling - you are wanted. Thranduil wants to return everything Maglor has given him and in the pursuit of doing so, he has fallen in love. With his body whole again, he gathers the other Elf close, rubbing over his chest to quiet his racing heart.}

The Greenwood is yours. Come be with me and we will be safe. I can show you all the secrets of the forest.

[ Just as Maglor enjoys the marks Thranduil makes on him. Being wanted, being seen, beyond just his birth and the horrors he'd done...Thranduil has become a breath of much needed fresh air.

Maglor lets his eyes close as he breathes, curling into his mate's arms and holding him close. ]

I will defend it and you. No oath. Just me.

[ Just his heart. Slowing under the hand stroking over his chest to help. ]

{He doesn't need or want oaths. He has seen promises broken over petty reasons countless times; how can he trust them? But a heart is much harder to sway and he has no intention of breaking Maglor's.}

I desire you. Oaths are like a pleasant breeze that can, without warning, turn into a storm. I've weathered enough storms.

{Thranduil leans in and claims Maglor's lips, kissing him slowly, his hands cupping either side of his face.}

[ No more oaths will this Feanorion utter. Maglor won't insult Thranduil by giving one - he knows enough of Thranduil's own history to not even try it. Even if he'd wanted to.

The kiss takes him somewhat by surprise, eyes startling open. But he doesn't flinch away from lips or hands cupping his face. Only wraps both arms back around Thranduil's waist to pull him closer and tips his head to press into the kiss. ]

Then take me. Keep me. No storm will part us.

Edited 2020-08-04 15:01 (UTC)

{He senses no revulsion and Maglor's words convince him that what lies between them is meant to last. Thranduil rests against the couch, his thumbs stroking those lovely, noble Fëanorian cheekbones and he gives his lover a small, fatigued smile.}

Should another attempt to claim you, they will have an argument - or worse - on their hands.

{He was fighting Orcs not so long ago. His sword is sharp.}

I do not relinquish my treasure easily either.

Edited 2020-08-04 15:10 (UTC)

[ He can sense no revulsion because there is none. Maglor has seen worse. He lets out a quiet sigh and nuzzles his lover's hands. ]

Should such an attempt be made, they will fail on all counts.

[ The implication has him swallow thickly and press his face against his mate's neck, arms curling tight around him again.

He's never felt like he's someone else's treasure before. But that's precisely how Thranduil is making him feel, and he's not entirely sure how to respond! ]

{He is ready to hold Maglor, his arms curling around him and his cheek pressed against the side of his head. Maybe his understanding of the other stems from them having gone through similar tragedies - frankly, Thranduil no longer cares. Maglor is his and as long as the other wishes to remain with him, no one will be allowed to interfere.}

Did I ruin your shift? The patrons will miss you.

{Voices that would move Eru himself do not come often. However he is feeling rather selfish at the moment and his arms are not releasing Maglor yet.}

[ He's letting himself be selfish and accept as much affection as Thranduil will give him. Maglor keeps just breathing in his mate's scent, letting the heat of the other's body sink into his as reassurance that this elf is alive. ]

They will use the approaching moon as an excuse for my absence. I doubt I am expected to return until this phase is done.

[ Even if he was expected...he wouldn't go. Not yet. Not until more than just his mind knows that Thranduil is safe. ]

The moon is calling you? {He lifts his head and slides a hand down Maglor's chest, searching for changes.} You are safe with me. Even with your body transformed, I will not abandon you.

{The urge to watch Maglor through the night is strong and he frowns faintly.}

Let me care for you until the phase is done.

[ He hums quietly in answer, absently nuzzling again as the familiar hand runs over his chest. ]

If last month is any indication, I will not change 'til tomorrow. And 'tis why I told you to expect to stay in for the next few days.

[ Because they have managed to build that trust. Now it's made stronger for them realizing the love between them. ]

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{Video; UN: elvenking}

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