Revelations by Númenora

Disclaimers and Warnings: See chapter one; remember, this is slash M/M.

This chapter is un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Thoughts and stressed words are in italics

Rating: PG for this chapter

Chapter Five

"Resolutions"

August 21, TA 2951 (just before dawn)

'If Adar sees the two of you like this, your life is forfeit, Hir-Nin. Mae govannen, Estel; I am Indis—Legolas' sister.' One pale hand reached out to him in the greeting men used (she'd looked it up for when they met properly).

But instead of taking the proffered hand, he gently shook Legolas awake; when the elf's blue eyes refocused and smiled at his love, Estel said wryly, 'We have company, Beloved.'

The smile left Legolas' face as he turned his head and looked at his sister in alarm. "Indis! Wha...how...what are doing here?" He pulled the blanket over them more securely.

"I can ask the very same of you, Tôr dithen (younger brother). As I was saying to your Estel, Adar will be most displeased."

"I believe that your exact words were 'If Adar sees the two of you like this, your life is forfeit, Hir-Nin,'" Estel always prided himself on his near perfect memory, but he found no delight in the present situation; especially with the Princess staring at him so intently and with a peculiar look upon her face. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that she was taken with him.

"Quite so." Estel's and Legolas' eyes narrowed somewhat at the wistful look Indis wore as she continued to gape at them in their unclothed and compromising position.

"Indis? Indis!" Legolas raised his voice to get her attention. As she focused on him—finally—he continued, "Why don't you hand me those robes over there near table?" With one last glance at the embracing pair, she did as he asked.

Estel nearly chuckled at the ironic lift of her brow when she noticed his leggings and her brother's clothes scattered about (with one piece lying half-way in the water pitcher). Walking back to the bed with the garments, Legolas frowned, not at all pleased with her amusement.

"Why don't you wait for me outside the door? If Mablung should appear with Lord Estel's belongings, ask him to leave them outside the door; in fact, take that small stool there and place it outside—I'll join you shortly."

"Very well; just don't be too long. Very soon, this entire floor will be alive with servants preparing for the day." After picking up the stool, she added, "And by the way, I hope that you will have remembered your manners by then and thank me."

"For what—staring a hole through our guest?" The Prince asked sarcastically.

"For finding you here before Mablung did or—Valar forbid—Adar." Without waiting for a response, she swept out of the room leaving the essence of lilies and spring rain in her wake.

"She is correct, A'maelamin. Provided that she keeps our little indiscretion secret, we are in her debt. His Majesty—your father—will surely have me tossed into the dungeons as you said he planned to do before you spoke up for me." Estel frowned as he ran his fingers through the Prince's beautiful, but tangled hair.

"You do not regret what happened, surely?" Legolas looked devastated at the prospect.

Smiling in that lopsided way that made the elf's heart skip, the mortal said, "I would gladly go to the deepest, darkest cell in the palace and dwell there for the rest of my natural days for a taste of your sweet lips." He then proceeded to taste those lips with the sweetest of kisses.

When the kiss ended, Legolas kept his eyes closed, breathing a bit hard with his rosy, pink lips open—the sight of which made the dúnadan's heart skip beats this time. "Per..." Clearing his throat, the Imladrian tried again, "Perhaps we had better get dressed."

Legolas laughed heartily; Estel had the same dreamy look on his face that Indis had moments before. The Prince kissed the mortal with a hard, quick peck and jumped out of the bed and swiftly donned his robe before retrieving his leggings and shirt from the floor.

Very lovely, my Mela. The future King of Gondor smiled lasciviously as he savored the view of Legolas' pert little bottom before it disappeared from his view; he then stood, putting on his own robe. Unbeknownst to him, Legolas enjoyed a moment admiring his form, too before the man covered himself.

"I'd better get to my room and change quickly; I'll come back here to escort you to morning meal. Oh! My hair is in complete ruin—is love-making always this messy?" Fingers combed frantically through matted silver-blond tresses, braids half undone.

"I do not speak from experience, but I have heard that it is so if it's done correctly," Estel answered. Then, "You know, I never realized just how prissy you are about your hair; you are as bad as the Twins!"

"I am not 'prissy!' You grew up among elves; you know how important hair is to us. It's symbolic of our status as warriors...and it can be used to denote...rank and...and one's title...Oh, you know all of this." Braids now in place, Legolas finished buttoning his shirt.

"While I concede you caring about your warrior status, you never cared much for rank or title; so I can only conclude that you are being pris..." The rest of the statement was cut off when semi-damp leggings impacted against Estel's face and wrapped themselves around his head and neck.

"I am not prissy." Looking every bit the royal Prince, head high and nose in the air, Legolas headed for the door, almost making it before being hit by the same damp garment that he threw at his true love. "That was un..."

"I love you, my Prissy Prince." He grinned from ear to ear at the 'stern' look the elf struggled to maintain, fighting his own grin. He finally lost the battle and answered the man's smile with one of his own before doing an imitation of an irate 11-year-old Estel as he lost his temper with Elladan—he stuck his tongue out at the future ranger and walked outside the door.

"Prissy," The Númenórean whispered to the closed door before searching through his pack for a carefully wrapped package that he placed inside before leaving home to find his mother Gilraen. With great care and reverence, Estel opened the royal blue velvet pouch and retrieved the beautiful mithril locket-pendant that Legolas gave to him for his birthday. The newly risen morning sun joined with the gentle light already flooding the room to make the cerulean-toned sapphire sparkle in its mithril setting. A tanned forefinger traced the jewel all over before the mortal opened it to gaze lovingly at the silver-blond tresses inside, the warmth of his love for Legolas flooding his heart and soul. He finally felt worthy to wear this gift and he vowed to himself and to Valar that he would never take it off—but first, he needed a bath. It wouldn't do for him to arrive at his first official meeting with Legolas' adar smelling of the Prince—and sex!

"He'd throw me in the deepest, dankest and darkest cell to rot forever—if he doesn't slay me on the spot!"

A light knock sounded at the door accompanied by the now familiar voice of King Thranduil's only daughter. "Estel? Mablung has brought your clothing; may I bring them in to you?" She asked hopefully.

Suppressing a groan, the man said politely, "It is kind of you to offer, but I'll gather them, momentarily—I'm still unclothed." The moment he said it, he knew that he should have rephrased the statement.

"I've seen you already; besides, elves aren't shocked by nakedness," She informed.

Was that giggling? The dúnadan quickly discouraged her, "I appreciate that and your offer, but I can manage. Why don't you go help Legolas—he was having a difficult time with his hair." He waited for several minutes before opening the door, hoping that she had gone; breathing a great sigh of relief, he grabbed his things and locked the door.

Laying his well-worn, but clean garments on the chair that Legolas used to watch over him, he placed a tender kiss on the locket and placed it on the nightstand before entering the bathing chamber.

Legolas stepped out of his bath and grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off. He looked at his mid-drift and smiled as he remembered with fondness Estel's dark hairs stuck there by their combined essences. His smile grew as he noticed other things left on his skin by his mortal love—namely several red and pink marks left by eager lips and teeth.

"Legolas? I've come to help you get ready," His sister spoke from outside the bathing chamber door.

"I haven't needed help getting dressed in some time." He tied his dressing gown and proceeded drying his long hair.

"Estel didn't mind my help. He..." The door whipped open, revealing a very beautiful, but furious Prince. "Peace, Tôr dithen—I was only jesting. He wouldn't let me back in when I offered." Her crystalline laughter filled the room when her brother became even more incensed. "Legolas, please calm yourself! Here—let me help with your hair."

With one last warning glance, he sat before the mirrored table and handed her a beautifully carved brush. "You seem to have lost your sense of humor, Little Leaf." As she carefully removed tangles and snarls, she tried to catch his eye in the mirror as she noted the troubled frown on his brow. "Would you like to talk about what I walked in on?"

"Have you heard of knocking before entering a guest's private room?" He was still upset and fearful of what she planned to do. He and his siblings didn't enjoy informing on each other and they didn't make a habit of doing so; but they were obligated to tell their adar (and King) about situations that were potentially hazardous to Mirkwood or to the sibling in question. Their father worried over them and he demanded very little considering his rank; but he insisted that they keep their promises to him—and though Legolas had not technically broken his word about remaining pure, he had gone as far as he could before crossing the line. And knowing his adar, the King will not care to make that distinction.

"I always knock, Greenleaf; no one answered and I only meant to peek inside. I did not expect to see what I saw, however. What are going to say to Adar about this?"

"I don't plan to say anything! The question is what are you planning to say?" His voice sounded calm, but his eyes were very frightened as he awaited her answer.

The pause before she spoke seemed to take ages. "I plan to say nothing; but that is only because I can see how much you love him and I saw the way he was holding on to you—he adores you, Dear Brother. I have waited nearly two thousand years for someone to look at me in that manner. He's quite handsome—are there any more like him in Rivendell?"

"There aren't any more like him any where; he is one-of-a-kind." The Prince said with pride.

"But surely he is not the only beautiful man in existence? It doesn't seem possible or fair!" She pouted half seriously.

"I have seen a few attractive men near Lothlórien—men from Gondor and Rohan."

"Good. Because the only humans that I have seen up close came from Laketown and they were coarse, grubby and their teeth were brown. I thought that all mortals were like them, but your Estel has made a lie of that belief. I want one just like him." She had that wistful look again.

"They're not pets, Indis. And you will behave around him and remember that he...belongs...to...me! He enunciated succinctly, looking at her menacingly.

"Not a pet? You sound very proprietary." She said, not at all put off by him. Changing the subject, she asked, "Legolas; what did Estel mean when he said that his name was 'Aragorn' in the courtyard?"

"I will let him answer that question; but I will say that he learned something about his past that was kept from him and he is still trying to understand it. So, please be sensitive. He may have grown up around elves, but he still has some human sensibilities. Also, we wood-elves tend to be more blunt than the Noldo." Legolas chose a green and yellow-tinted mother-of-peal barrette for the top of long plait down his back and a small replica to tie off the end.

"I will respect his privacy, but I can't promise not to be blunt with all my questions. After all, I am my father's daughter. Why don't you wear this; it is one of Adar's favorites and you need all the advantage you can get." She said drolly, but candidly, handing him a light-green velvet tunic and leggings and a pale yellow silk shirt. "Legolas...what was it like...being...being with Estel? I mean...is it as wonderful as I...as you imagined it would be...to be made love to, I mean?"

Blushing profusely to be discussing this with her and also in fond remembrance, he answered, "It was wondrous being loved by him; he held me and he kissed and touched me...everywhere. And I did the same for him. But, you should understand—we didn't claim each other...completely. We plan to wait until we are bonded as Adar asked; Estel respects that. I just hope that we don't have to wait forever to wed each other." He stepped behind the changing screen, never shy around her before today.

When he had his clothes on, he sat down to slip on his boots. Finished, he headed for the door but turned back when he noticed his sister out of the corner of his eye—she was rearranging his bedclothes and pillows. At his questioning look, smiling mischievously, she said, "For when the servants come to straighten your room."

With one last look at her handy-work, she and Legolas left to join their human guest.

As much as Legolas and the Twins loved their hair, Estel hated his; hated it only as far as its inability to do as he wished—today that was the Elven style of Imladris. It refused to stay braided and confined to the ties and barrette he used in an attempt to tame its wildness. "To Mordor with you!" He slammed down the comb he was using—its valiant efforts thwarted again. Estel was very critical of his looks, but he needn't have worried—he was extremely handsome despite the loose tendrils and strands of his wavy dark hair.

Frown firmly in place, he turned away from the mirror to answer the knock at the door. Instead of opening it at once, he asked cautiously, "Yes?"

"It is I...Legolas." Smile replacing the sour look he had been wearing, he opened the door, uncooperative hair forgotten. He pulled the beautiful Elda inside and kissed him as if he hadn't seen him for years instead of only minutes. When he finally released Legolas, he stared at him lovingly and then placed a tender kiss against the pale forehead of the blond who still had his eyes closed savoring the kiss. "Where's your sister?" He peeked briefly out the open door and then closed it.

"I sent her on ahead. She's rather infatuated with you; I was tempted several times to throttle her; I never minded sharing with her, but this is where I draw the line—after all, you are mine." Legolas said, arms around Estel's neck, staring intently into his blue-green eyes, smiling.

"Yes, I am—mind, body and fëa." The dúnadan pulled the elf closer and tighter into his embrace, nuzzling his throat and kissing his temple. He leaned back and gazed into the bottomless depths of the Prince's blue eyes in a similar manner that Legolas had his moments before.

The Royal looked him over, noting how truly attractive the man was; about to tell him so, he became nearly speechless when he found his mother's locket hanging around Estel's neck. "You wearing it," He said somewhat unnecessarily, but very touched nonetheless. "I had wondered if...perhaps it was too personal a gift to give you. I mean...we hadn't seen each other for two years and then I...I didn't hear from you...I know why, now...but..."

"Shhh, Beloved. I am so sorry that I worried you. I didn't write at first because I didn't know how you would feel about me after you learned of my heritage...I didn't know that you knew. I put the jewel away because I didn't feel worthy enough to wear it; I wanted to wait until you knew and decided that you still loved me. But that is all behind us, now. You love me and I am so utterly in love with you; I can wear this with no worries. Thank you for so precious a gift."

"You are most welcomed, A'maelamin—however..." Legolas started buttoning the red undershirt beneath the V of his dark-brown tunic. "I don't think we should provoke Adar."

"Should I remove the locket? I had planned to never take it off—but if you think it best..." The mortal reached behind his neck to undo the clasp, unsure and disheartened all of a sudden.

"No, Estel! It is not the locket, my Love." He stopped the man's hands, kissing them in turn. At Estel's puzzled look, he explained. "It would seem that some ravenous elf has been making a meal of you as evidenced by the deep red marks on your chest and neck and...Should I go on?"

Laughing in joy and relief, Estel allowed the wood-elf to finish his task. "Has some voracious man been making a meal of you? Is that why you are wearing your shirt done up to the chin?" He tried peeking beneath the blond's collar, getting his hand slapped playfully in the process.

"It is; although mine have almost faded. You—having less Elven blood—will be so marked for hours or days, perhaps."

"I hope they last for years—I like being marked as yours!"

"I shall just have to replace them for you—but later. Adar will be waiting." Surveying his work to make sure the mortal was well concealed, the immortal linked his hand with the Imladrian's and they left the suite to join the rest of the Royal Family gathered in the private dining hall.

The tension in the room was palpable and everyone seemed affected by it; everyone except Indis and Gandalf who made it their business to keep conversation flowing around the table by talking to each other or to the person closest to them. Estel suspected that their chatter and seeming good spirits were acts designed to lift the afore-mentioned tension—they needn't have bothered.

When he and Legolas first entered the hall, he was nervous but the warm pressure of the Prince's hand in his comforted him and by the time he had been formally introduced to Legolas' siblings (including Indis to whom he apologized for his earlier rudeness), he was quite at ease. He was especially delighted to see Gandalf and he and the Maia talked for some time about why he (Gandalf) was there and about the Istari's conversation with Lord Elrond who missed him terribly and how the Maia would support Estel in whichever way the young man needed him. All was going well in the Royal Dinning Hall; the man and Oropher and Elurín talked of Mirkwood patrols and Estel told them about his experiences hunting orc with his brothers and his recent trip to Tharbad. The mood was jovial—that is—until the Sovereign Ruler of Mirkwood arrived wearing a look so sour that Sauron himself would have cringed to see it.

The Imladrian squirmed under Thranduil's intense scrutiny as they were introduced, making him feel like the interloper that he technically was. Estel tried to appear calm for he wanted to make a good impression on the Ruler, so he remembered his training and gave to Legolas' sire the proper elven greeting (along with the deference one paid Royalty) by placing his hand over his heart; but by doing so, he inadvertently drew attention to the lovely pendant that he was wearing—the one the King recognized instantly.

If the man was squirming before, he positively shrank before Thranduil's fuming countenance. The Golden elf then turned his gaze on his youngest and the Prince seem to squirm a bit too, but he held his adar's stare, refusing to apologize for his gift, which made the Elvenking's mood darken further. The only relief Estel felt came from an unexpected place—a kitchen servant chose that moment to inform his Liege-lord that the morning meal was served and the poor elf felt the full brunt of his King's displeasure.

Gandalf, pretending not to notice the awkwardness going around, jovially proclaimed that he was starving and gallantly offered to escort the Princess to the table so all could break their fast together.

So, here everyone sat silently (for the most part) consuming the excellent food, lovingly prepared by devoted servants; food that could have been roasted orc for all the notice the King, Legolas, Estel, Legolas' brothers or Gandalf and Indis (though they put on a valiant show) paid the meal.

Legolas reached beneath the table and lightly squeezed Estel's knee and the man looked at the Prince with a grateful smile on his face before taking that hand in his. They gazed into each other's eyes and for a moment it seemed that only they were present.

Seeing the two so engrossed in each other only made King Thranduil more upset. Though he had only shown his anger earlier, the King was truly hurt and afraid of what this relationship between his son and the mortal meant. In his heart of hearts he had hoped that this was merely a passing fancy for Legolas—a first crush or some such triviality. But seeing the sapphire locket hanging around the adan's neck and seeing the way that the young Prince was looking at the man, Thranduil could no longer dismiss it. His first reaction to Legolas' announcement of his feelings for Estel and then dúnadan showing up unannounced had been truly upsetting to him; but after talking with Gandalf and then spending most of the night convincing himself that he had overreacted, King Thranduil had decided that he wouldn't let the situation get the better of him—that he would wait for Legolas to get over his ridiculous infatuation. But that hope ended the moment he walked into the hall and saw the complete adoration the Prince was bestowing on Isildur's Heir and the devotion that was being reflected back.

Then he saw that precious jewel that his late wife Soronúmë had designed and given to her young elfling hanging around Estel's throat. He knew then that his son was serious and that he (Thranduil) was in danger of losing the only real reminder of his wife left in his life—Legolas, who was the very image of her. Of course he still had his other children, but they all looked like him and his own father. No one but Legolas resembled the late Queen. Well—I'll just have to put a stop to this; and the sooner, the better!

Squaring his mental shoulders, the King of former Greenwood the Great got up from the table and looked sternly at the young lovers and announced, "I am going to my study," and when he had everyone's attention (Estel's and Legolas' especially), he ordered, "Eat quickly and join me there!" Staring intently at the objects of his displeasure, he left.

Legolas and Estel gazed into each other's eyes again, but this time with worry and trepidation. In silent agreement, they forwent the rest of their meal and rose to join Elven Monarch.

Estel was squirming—again! He and Legolas had been sitting before the blond King for about 30 minutes and every time one of them attempted to speak or move, Thranduil would silence them or stop them with a lift of his hand or a quelling glance. They both knew why he was treating them in this manner, but that didn't make the endurance of it any easier. So, they just kept holding each other's hand, showing the other their support.

"If you think that you are going to steal my child away from me, then you are sadly mistaken, Mortal!" The King's voice said coldly.

Estel was speechless; this was not what he expected to hear. He knew that the King would let him know that he didn't approve of the relationship, given how he felt about the man's ancestor, but this he had not anticipated. Estel had formulated possible responses or answers to questions that one would expect a disapproving parent to pose. But this? The man was nonplussed and he just sat there with his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

"Adar...that is not..." Legolas got only a few words out.

"Silence, Elfling! I am speaking to Elrondion here; your turn will come next."

"Your Majesty, my intent...I mean...I would never try to 'steal' Legolas away...I could not even if I tried. He loves you and his home. I...I love him with all my heart and I only want his happiness. I would never try and keep him from his family...from you." Estel knew that he was rambling, but he felt that he had to get everything out before the King silenced him, too.

"What makes you think that you...you—above all—are worthy enough for my ion? Isildur's Heir, indeed!"

The contempt was not lost on Estel and he became indignant, but he refused to lose his temper. He was Lord Elrond's son, after all and had been far longer than he'd been Isildur's descendant (at least in his mind and heart) and his Noldo pride came to the fore.

"Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, although you clearly have none for me; I am no commoner. I may not have known of my Royal heritage before a few months ago, but I am Lord Elrond's son and have been raised as such—which is no small matter. I have been reared to be person of honor and I have striven—still strive—to be that person; that man. I am not Isildur nor am I the one who betrayed Middle-earth, though I have learned lately that I am expected to make up for that wrong. I say all this not to imply that I am worthy of Prince Legolas..." He placed a finger against the named Prince's lips when he attempted to contradict Estel's assessment of his worth and continued, "...I say this not to imply that I am worthy of him because of who I am now or was raised to be—that would make me seem vane or arrogant. I am worthy of Legolas because he has made me so—with his love." Kissing the blond's hand the man continued, "I love Legolas with all that I am and I love him more than my own life."

"A Life that is but a speck in the life-span of an elf; am I supposed to be impressed by that?"

"So brief a life makes it that much more precious to one whose days are numbered, My Lord." The dúnadan held King Thranduil's gaze without flinching. "I know that you disapprove of me and for reasons of which I have no control—my race and because of my ancestry. That is unfortunate; no one should be blamed for the misdeeds of another. I wouldn't want that any more than I would want to be lauded for the accomplishments of someone else. I would ask you to judge me on my own merits."

Legolas could stay quiet no longer. "Adar? What Estel asks is not unreasonable. Please give him a chance—give yourself a chance to get to know him. He is wonderful in so many ways." He smiled brightly—love and pride evident in his eyes.

"You are hardly impartial, Ion-nin." Thranduil said.

"Neither are you, Adar!" Legolas laughed and the uneasiness that had been dominating since the three of them came together suddenly lessened.

The King smiled fondly, but sadly, at his child; the fight that he had been prepared for went out of him in the face of earnestness that the two youngsters presented. He then turned towards Estel. "I'd like to speak with my son—alone. Please, leave us." It was a command, but the Imladrian was cheered somewhat for the Monarch had said please in a somewhat civil manner. Looking at Legolas who smiled reassuringly, he stood up after squeezing the wood-elf's hand briefly and left the two Royals alone.

"He's going to kill you, Little Leaf; he's going to kill my little elfling." Tears came unbidden to Thranduil's eyes.

"Adar—no! You mustn't think like that." The Prince went to his ada and sat on his lap much as he did when he was that 'little elfling' he father still considered him.

"What would you call it, then? I had hoped that this—what you feel for him—was a fleeting thing; something that would fade over time. But I can see it in your eyes and in his eyes; you two love each other deeply and now you have tied your fate to his. When he dies, so will you." They embraced for a time, Legolas not contradicting his parent for the King saw the truth of it.

"Does he know...will you tell him?" Legolas had his pale blond head lying atop his ada's golden one as Thranduil spoke.

"Someday. He still has some growing to do; when he has matured a bit more. The understanding is there somewhere inside him; he knows about the bonding of two souls, having grown up among elves. He will accept it (reluctantly) when the time comes." The Prince was confident that Estel would.

The morning wore on and neither elf made to move from their positions. After a time, however, they embraced tighter before standing up. The King walked the Prince to the door and gently pushed him towards the opening saying, "Go find Estel. I'm sure he thinks that I've hidden you away somewhere or packed you off to Valinor—which I have been seriously considering."

"Adar, that is not funny!" Legolas said with feigned indignation, though he suspected that his father was being truthful.

"Go on, Ion-nin; I have correspondence to pen." Legolas was gently, but firmly pushed out of the door.

"I love you, Adar." The Prince then sprinted down the hall, though he didn't have to go far—Estel was seated far enough away from the study that he couldn't be accused of eavesdropping, but close enough to keep the door in sight. The King watched as his son threw himself into the young adan's arms, the two kissing as the elf was spun around. With pain akin to an arrow through his heart, the Monarch, closed the door and returned to his desk.

Taking out a clean sheet of parchment, the Sovereign of Mirkwood dipped his pen in some ink and proceeded to write a letter to his future in-laws—an invitation to come to Mirkwood. The King said aloud in resignation, "Well, Elrond, old friend; it seems that we must plan a betrothal celebration." Placing the pen in the well and then picking up the miniature of the beautiful, late Queen, Thranduil said in a tear-filled voice, "Beloved; it seems that he will be with you and Ada in a very short time. I don't want to let him go, but I know that I will lose him sooner if I try to keep him from the mort...from Estel. I miss him already as I miss you." The King comforted himself with the thought that Legolas will be with his naneth someday, though he didn't know that for sure. No one seemed to know where mortals went when they left Middle-earth. He only hoped that that place and Mandos' Hall were one and the same—that Legolas and Estel would find the Prince's family there.

He smiled all of a sudden when he realized the thought of his son and Elrond's son being together—whether in Mandos' Realm or some place just for mortals—warmed his heart, lessening the pain of loss somewhat. Retrieving his quill, he began his letter again with a lighter spirit, "Now, where was I?"

TBC

Please review (Remember, no flames).

A/N: The epilogue is next; I plan for it to be as a normal chapter, but it will be the end of this story—think of it as a happily ever after. I plan some real heat, toned down for fanfiction sites with strict rules, but the un-edited version will be at my LJ and my homepage as well as other archives where my stories can be found.