I'm still not sure when this happened canonically, but since it's an AU anyway I may as well…

XIX.

And so it had come to this, at last.

No further delay.

'Summon our brothers,' Maglor ordered Celegorm shortly. 'At once.'

The younger elf hesitated fractionally, gave a curt nod, and departed.

Maglor watched him go.

-consult with the Enemy's servants-

His lips twisted.

High King of the Noldor meant to consult with no-one.

The power and responsibility were his, and his to cede, if he decided, and not Celegorm's to claim.

It even surprised him, mildly, dully, to realise how he relished it. How fiercely he was prepared to fight for his rights, if only to surrender them.

Ironically.

XX.

'It is not for you to tell me what I can or cannot do. Any of you. And you would do well not to ascribe my intentions to feelings of personal incapability, either. It is not about me evading responsibility. It is about us accepting it.'

For so many things.

'Has it mayhap escaped your attention that we are losing not only support, but also trust, even of our own people?'

Some say we answer to Morgoth, or eventually shall.

'I lead us. Nolofinwë could lead the Noldor.'

Indignant anger.

Scornful acceptance.

Cold fury.

Reluctant understanding.

'My decision is final.'

XXI.

The attack had been unexpected.

Although by this time they should have, perhaps, learnt to expect the unexpected.

And there he was, Argon, son of Fingolfin, in the heat of the battle, in a rapidly thinning circle of elves, drawn away from his family, fighting with increasing desperation.

And then he saw, and started; despite himself, despite knowing better, he started, for a moment too long.

Cousin-

Pain.

Pain.

Argon lashed out, swiftly, but it was too late, hurting-

Cousin.

He fell.

'Cousin!'

A brief glance, condescending, lingering but for a moment-

'Maitimo-!'

Blood.

His cousin turned away.

Pain-

Nothing.

XXII.

The Noldorin prince fell.

Arakáno-

The Noldorin prince fell, and he turned away, but felt the elf's fading gaze bear into him.

-cousin-

A barest flicker of an emotion so alien, now, one he had considered abandoned so completely, that he cringed, inwardly, appalled at its presence-

Yet soon the emotion was drowned out by a wave of anger, burning, dark fury, for how had this elf dared call him, call that name, call for help, when he had called for naught, and not even death was granted to him, and now-

Now, both orcs and elves fled before him.

XXIII.

Not many who had seen Argon die returned. But some did.

The expression on Fingolfin's face was terrible.

Fingon looked pale and thoroughly exhausted. Aredhel had her arms wrapped around Turgon; it was impossible to tell which of them was shaking more violently.

'Arakáno… Arakáno…'

'He fell for certain? There is no doubt?' Fingon asked quietly, hesitant to voice the thought.

Aredhel gasped.

Turgon shook free of her embrace, stood to confront his brother.

'How can you- Do not… to that monster… Do not-'

Fingon took a step back.

'I never-'

'Yes, you did! You-'

'Please,' the father said, softly.

XXIV.

'I have not the patience for you, Kanafinwe. This has lasted too long-'

'That is why I am here.'

'Is it?'

The elder elf's voice was cutting; Maglor was unfazed, set in his purpose.

'I come to offer you this.'

Fingolfin stared.

In Maglor's hands, in an ornate casket, the crown shone lustrously.

My half-brother's stubborn heir has seen reason. Although-

'You give me nothing I could not have taken myself,' he said curtly.

'I give you a chance at peace, and ask the same of you, Nolofinwë, son of Finwë.'

And Maglor bowed.

(How little comfort this victory brought.)