{There are only two scenarios in which he would do so: one, for pleasure and two, to hold Maglor fast in case he loses control. Even the drugs he has given him - playfully and at light doses - are tests. Thranduil knows he has to be strong; Maglor trusts him to stop him and Fëanorians are mighty. They contain the blood of the first Elves and that is no small matter. To imprison his husband, Thranduil will need to be cunning and swift.

But also loving too - in order to bring Maglor back. The real Maglor. Not the war-mongering prince.

He nuzzles their lips together lazily, grinning at the answer.}

Good. I want to sit with you on the sand.

{He barely bites back a groan, eyes closing suddenly at the lick. Giving a shudder, he immediately refocuses on making his husband as bare as him. It's only fair! The clothes are tossed and Thranduil chuckles like a naughty Elfling.}

You have proven that; I did not expect your loyalty - ever - but I value it now that I have it.