#the madhouse that is doriath

[aotearoa20]

Melian: And if some asks ‘are you nice?’ you say, ‘yes I’m very sweet’

Lil’ Lúthien : Yes I’m very sweet

Thingol: And if someone says something you don’t like you say, ‘throw yourself into the void’

Lil’ Lúthien: (way too excited) throw yourself into the void!

[aotearoa20]

“I do not deserve you.”

Melian turned to her husband, sitting of the new bed of the palace they had been building for the past decade. It is not often he speaks so quiet, nor seems so small.

“I could create the greatest kingdom in all of Elvenesse and would not be worthy you. I can’t give you what you deserve”

She sighs, though her smile is fond. When she wanders to the window he follows her. Outside his people, theirs, she reminds herself with joy in her heart, sit in the great courtyard. They sing and laugh, rejoicing in the twilight of the work their hands had built. The city grows more beautiful each passing day.

But when she turns to her husband there is only discontent on his face.

“You deserve the light of Aman,” she says, studying how his brow furrows ever so slightly, “You deserve Arda as it was unmarred before Melkor. At the very least the safety and joy of the Valinor. And yet that way is closed to you now.”

Because of me. She doesn’t say the words but they linger in air between them. He looks as though he would to protest but she shakes her head. Speaking in the way of her people, without words. When he is satisfied she continues.

“If it was offered to you now? Would you leave these shores?”

He blinks, glancing to the city below. His expression softens as he looks across it.

“No.” He says at last, “This is my home. I- ”

“I am happy here.” She steals his words and makes them her own

His eyes widen as she smiles. He looks upon her in wonder, would that he knew how often she did the same.

“Do you understand, my love?”

“I… I am trying”

She hums softly and the wind sings with her, pulling at the hair of the King so that it flickers in silver waves. Her laughs fills the air about them with unbridled joy as she brushes it out of his, too solemn, face.

“And I am patient,” she replies

“I love you.”

Melian answers in the way of the Firstborn, pressing her lips against his and pulling him into her embrace. Outside the birds sang and the people of Thingol cheered, teasing and joyful as they watched their King on the balcony above.