VII.

He had been waiting for this.

The air of utter horror, beyond even fright; the spark of recognition; his own reflection in the elf's eyes; he regarded it all with cold fascination.

'Cease this whimpering,' he snarled, lifting the trembling elf by the throat. 'You will not be hurt. Who rules over the Noldor?'

Kanafinwë. Kanafinwë was king.

Almost involuntarily, he bared his teeth.

'Look closely,' he commanded. 'Look, and tell your king.'

Tell him what his complacency had forced me to choose.

Tell him of the shadows in my eyes, of the collar round my neck.

'Tell him everything.'

VIII.

Maglor had thought himself prepared for the worst.

Or rather, he had thought the worst already upon him: shame, contempt, knowledge; wordless accusations, screams in his mind.

This had been his choice, and he had told himself he would bear it, there was no other way.

He stared at the soldier.

He had thought – what, in his selfish delusions? That it would be pain, and that it was not the worst to be found in Angband; that it could also be enslavement, and destruction, which almost meant death, which almost, almost meant relief.

Not fealty. Not willing service.

Not Maitimo.

IX.

'Maitimo would never-'

'He is Maitimo no longer.'

'Kanafinwë said-'

'Kanafinwë is both foolish and a traitor of his closest kin. As was your former friend, who is lost to us all.'

Fingon's shoulders fell. Fingolfin continued pacing.

'And this impudent coward has the nerve to call himself King of the Noldor!'

'We should have done something.'

'You tried. Which is more than any of his brothers did.'

'What of it, when I failed? He does not even know. He thinks we all abandoned him.'

'As he abandoned us. And now, betrayed us.'

'He is one of us!'

'No longer.'

X.

Curufin stood before his brother, his expression studiedly reserved, words carefully steel.

'You are the king. You must decide upon a course of action.'

'I may not remain king for long. There has been unrest-'

'Which is precisely what we need to counteract, elsewise Nolofinwë might do it for us.'

'So Nolofinwë wishes for me to surrender the crown.'

'As you know well.'

'I had been keeping it for Maitimo.'

The younger brother bridled.

'Do you think you alone grieve? He is not coming back, and could not lead us if he did. He is lost.'

'I know,' said Maglor.

XI.

'You would sit here and play king, while your brother-'

Despite himself, Maglor flinched.

'-yes, your brother, little as it seems to matter to you! He taunts us, naming himself our rightful ruler and you but a usurper, and proclaims himself innocent of your betrayal-'

'Of that he truly is innocent.'

Fingolfin paused, startled.

'How so?'

'He stood aside.'

The elder elf narrowed his eyes.

'You do know you are not helping your case.'

Indeed.

Why mention it now?

It is the truth.

He felt so very weary.

'Rest assured I will not leave it like that, Kanafinwë.'

Very well.

XII.

The sword rested against Maglor's throat.

'Do not look away. Do not look away. Is this not what you came to see?'

'Nelyo-'

Blood trickled down the elf's neck, a thin rivulet.

'You were ever audacious. I have no interest in your excuses.'

'I have none.'

'Good.'

Silence.

The horrified revulsion was evident in Maglor's eyes, and he stared on, savouring it, drinking in the dread.

'What has he done to you?'

'Nothing you did not consent to.'

'And you? Did you consent?'

Hesitation. Anger.

'What choice do you think I had?'

'I only see the choice you made, Maitimo.'