Maglor carried Lily into his bedroom and kicked the door shut. As he'd promised, the air was warm and inviting. The fireplace crackled. Soft candlelight flickered. His bed, situated between two small windows at the far wall, was rumpled with furs and woollen blankets.

It was not an ideal marriage bed, but it would do.

Maglor slowly lowered Lily to her feet. She swayed slightly, and he held her close.

Her heart was pounding hard and fast. "Lillian," he murmured. He looked down at her face, and saw fear in her eyes. "Don't be scared," he said, "I will not hurt you."

"I know," she said, "I'm just…" Blinking, she chewed nervously on her lip. "I do not know what I should say."

He felt the same way. The girl was like a stranger to him - what did he truly know about her? What did she cherish in life?

He supposed, grimly, that this was to be his lot.

Wed to a mortal girl, thus in turn solidifying his own doom. But she would live. She would thrive. If anything, that thought soothed his warring conscience.

"You do not need to say anything to me," he said dully. Turning to the bed, he sat down and began unlacing his boots. She stood there, her hair lovely and thick, reaching down below her shoulders.

"Shall I take off my nightgown?" The girl asked, before beginning to unbutton it. Maglor shook his head. "No, no," he said. "You're fine as you are."

After removing his shoes, he shook off his outer doublet and tossed it onto the nearby chaise. In his tunic and breeches, he walked to the decanter and poured himself a small swig of wine. He offered some to Lily. "Here," he said, "this will take the edge off tonight."

She drank it quickly. "More please," she said, holding her glass out to him. Maglor raised a brow, but did not deny her request.

"Get on the bed," he ordered.

"Manners might be nice," she grumbled, but did as he asked. He watched as she lay, her body stretched out, relaxing on his own furs.

Maglor came to her. Her gaze was aloof, stiff. He swallowed. Disquiet churned within him but he pushed it aside.

He leaned over and she shuffled back, resting on her elbows. Crawling onto the bed, he held himself over her. Lily's eyes were big and dark, flickering with something he couldn't describe.

Reaching down, Maglor tentatively kissed her. Her lips were warm and inviting. She slowly reached out, wrapping her arms around his back.

At her touch, he gently lowered his weight down. Her body pressed against his; the feeling was strangely intoxicating. She hummed. "My ribs," she reminded him. "Be gentle, please."

"I know."

His long, dark hair slid over his shoulders like a curtain. The girl reached out, touching its softness.

Then, she kissed him. Sweet and soft. His body responded to hers with an intensity he'd never felt before. It was instinctual, carnal. The girl began peppering kisses to his neck, reaching up to the tapered point of his ears.

Oh.

A languid heat began to stir. He pressed his hips against her own and she moaned. The sound was sinful.

"I don't know what…"

"Hush," he murmured, his own voice thick.

He lifted himself off her, resting one arm on his elbow before reaching down to her nightdress. He tugged it up, lifting the skirt over her legs. He could hear her breath catching in her throat. Maglor bunched the gown up to her waist. The soft, pale skin of her stomach and hips were cool to the touch. She hadn't worn any undergarments.

The languid heat within him turned to a pulsating ache. Without another word, he untied his breeches and pulled himself out. In response, Lily slid her legs further apart. He nestled himself between her.

Without another word, Maglor began to push inside. He could feel the girl's body tense. He grit his teeth. "Lillian," he murmured.

She frowned. "What?"

"Relax," he said, before reaching down and kissing her once more. She hummed, before melting against him.

He slowly moved himself deeper. She stretched around him, warm and unending. It was like nothing he'd felt before. Unable to stop, he drove himself fully within. Lily let out a small, surprised cry.

"Be gentle," she winced.

Maglor's jaw clenched. "Sorry," he grunted. He began to move. She filled him, surrounded him. He closed his eyes, reaching down within his spirit. The bond between them was gently tethering. It was a bright, golden thread, weaving together body and soul.

His thoughts were a hazed mess.

When Lillian arched beneath him, bringing her legs to his waist and pulling him deeper, his growing need climbed. Her walls clenched against him and he saw stars. Jerking his hips, he shuddered, moaning. His seed spilt deep inside her, warm and thick.

Oh.

After a moment, he opened his eyes. Lillian - his wife - lay sprawled beneath him, her gaze on his own. Her eyes were more beautiful than ever, sparkling brightly. Her voice was wry, "you certainly enjoyed yourself."

He did. He refused to acknowledge it.

With a low hiss, he rolled himself out of her, and sat on the edge of the bed. He re-tied the laces of his trousers.

"My lord?"

He hummed his reply, his mind still hazed.

"I need a towel, quickly."

Her words snapped him back to reality. Right. Of course. Stuffing his tunic back below his breeches, he hurriedly reached for a woollen rag draped across the chaise and brought it to the bed. She was sitting up, her nightgown still bunched about her waist. His seed, mixed with spots of blood, was leaking down her thighs.

"Give it here," she said, reaching out for it, "I don't want to ruin your sheets." He did so. Lillian wiped at her legs. Shame gripped him, and he quickly looked away.

"You should get some rest," he said. "I need to take care of some things downstairs." Her presence consumed him, leaving him wanting. He had to get out. He needed to clear his head. "Goodnight, Lillian."

Before she had the time to answer him, he turned on his heel. Crossing to the bedroom door, he shrugged on his robes and left.

Lily couldn't believe it.

He left.

Shame and anger burned hotly. She finished wiping away his semen and tossed the towel across the room. It slumped against the wooden floorboards.

She fell back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Had I done something wrong? No, she quickly brushed that thought aside. The elf had been the one to suggest marriage in the first place.

Lily swallowed, and looked down at her forefinger. The gold ring shone beneath the candlelight. Though rigid, she thought it beautiful.

Her anger cooled into resolve, and she realised that her wound no longer plagued her. Physically, it was there, but the wallowing darkness she felt creeping upon her heart had lifted.

In its place, she felt a strange, warm tingling.

Was that the bond that Maglor had spoken of?

For the first time in ages, she felt lighter. Stronger. The ache between her thighs and her ribs dulled against the gentle euphoria that washed over her.

Maglor hadn't been rough, yet he hadn't been gentle.

Her thoughts lingered on his kiss. Tender, yet firm. He was beautiful, achingly so. Yet, the coolness in his gaze and his sudden departure soured any lingering desire she felt towards him.

Lying alone, Lily took comfort in the fact that she would not have to sleep with him again. Not if she had any say in it.

She would continue living as she always had.

Her thoughts meandered, her mind furiously searching for something, anything, to feel hopeful about.

Thuringwethil's revelation meant that she could not return to England. Yet, she still had friendship and a home. She had Nestariel, and Melieth.

And if she were to return to dreary old London, who would keep an eye on Amrod and Amras?

As Maglor had said, their marriage was one of convenience. Once again, he'd saved her life. Perhaps, in a less favourable way than she'd preferred, but she remained alive nonetheless.

Death, though it had lingered once more, would not reach her.

When Lily awoke the next morning, the place beside her bed was empty.

She found that she cared little.

When she rolled over to gaze out the window, her lower body protested. She was tender there, but it wasn't truly painful. She had dealt with much worse.

Lily was about to move from the bed when someone knocked on the door. She stilled - her thoughts flickering to Maglor. Perhaps he'd come back.

"It's alright to come in," she called out softly.

The door opened to Nestariel. One look in her eyes told Lily everything she needed to know. Nesterial was grave, and shut the door behind her.

"I cannot believe it," she murmured. The elf went to her side. "He married you, Lily, didn't he?" She looked forlorn.

"Yes," she muttered. "I agreed to it, though. I feel stronger."

"You would."

Lily eyed her. "Why are you upset? It was a mutual pact, Nestariel, and it saved my life."

Nestariel looked angry. "He is immortal, Lily. Do you not know this? Elves can only marry once, as it is a very sacred thing."

"He didn't tell me that," she muttered, feeling chagrined.

"You will die, as mortals do, but he will live on, suffering in grief and loneliness."

Lily was bemused. "I don't think so, Nestariel. He doesn't like me that much," she said derisively.

Her dull attempt to change their discussion fell short.

Nestariel wasn't listening. She was shaking her head, tutting to herself. "It is very bad indeed, and a good thing Lord Maedhros is away, for he will be very angry when he finds out."

"I don't see what Maedhros, or anyone else has to do with it. The marriage is between me and Maglor," she felt petulant. "We will deal with any repercussions in the future." If there are any.

"Your words do not comfort me, mellon nín." Nesterial paced. "You are Edain. How could you understand the gravity of such a promise?"

Lily didn't like her tone. "Marriage is a contract like any other."

"No, it isn't. It is much more than that. It is so much more than that."

Lily's temper rose. "What's done is done, Nestariel, just let it be."

Nestariel whirled on her. "Don't you see? Don't you understand? Maglor has doomed himself," she hissed angrily, "he's a fool and has doomed himself."

"He might be foolish, but he saved my life."

Nestariel grimaced. "Your life is still short, regardless. It is nothing but a heartbeat to an elf."

Lily burned with shame and anger. "I can't help but grow old. Does that mean my life is any less valuable than yours?" She jumped to her feet, ignoring the ache in her body. She was tired and she was miserable.

It had been a trying week.

Nestariel watched her from the windowsill, eyes flashing. Lily held down her tongue, not wishing to say something she'd regret.

"I'm going to wash," she said sourly, "I don't want to speak of this matter to you, or to anyone else."

At that, she stormed out.