And he will continue debating post-war plans with Findekáno, who cannot consciously have reasoned that he can get more humane policies by suggesting them in front of Taliar because he is supposed to share all Maitimo's ends right now and being manipulated is not one of Maitimo's ends. Probably Findekáno is just making sure Taliar is reassured that Maitimo listens to disagreement and so forth.

Listening to Findekáno suggest more humane policies and participating in the associated conversations is also having a faint but measurably positive effect on Taliar's soul. Taliar does not conceive of the idea that Findekáno might have predicted this in advance, but he does appreciate that it's happening.

Taliar's soul's probably going to get all excitable about Findekáno once they're good friends, isn't it. He is only a little jealous.

Seems likely. But Taliar isn't thinking about that; any stray bits of his attention not caught by the conversation at hand are entirely wrapped up in thinking about how much he loves Maitimo and how glad he is that he can be a part of Maitimo's life and participate in his policy discussions and snuggle in his lap and be fed dinner by him.

It's adorable. It's so adorable. He kisses the top of his head and Findekáno raises an eyebrow.

"Should I go?"

"No, no, I am going to be self-indulgent and have the both of you, and Taliar wanted to hear me describe how I fell in love with you and that'll be more fun if you're here."

"I definitely want to hear you describe how you fell in love with him!"

...for previously established reasons and also because he expects it will be a big help in shifting the balance between shyness, uncertainty, and excitement in his reaction to the words 'I am going to be self-indulgent and have the both of you'.

Maitimo squeezes him. And Maitimo talks about how he fell in love with Findekáno, in Valinor, a very long time ago, both of them trying to duck and dodge the mandatory correction of a panicked Valar unhappy that crimes kept occurring even in this paradise-they'd-made-why-weren't-the-Elves-grateful, and at some point someone comes in to clear up dinner and politely does not look at Maitimo's lap-Taliar and Maitimo stands up and takes his hand and keeps talking and walks to his rooms to dig out of his dresser the wedding rings that he and Findekáno exchanged in secret six hundred years ago.

It's a lovely story. The secret wedding rings are incredibly romantic. He loves Maitimo so much, and he is so happy about Maitimo and Findekáno loving each other. Everything he hears about Findekáno confirms his initial impression that Findekáno is a delightful person whom he will get along with really well. Also the Valar are terrible but he doesn't feel like dwelling on that at the moment; he would much rather think about how much he loves Maitimo some more.

"I also feel, Taliar, like you'd approve of how Findekáno handled the mess in Nan Elmoth. We'd - had a lot of disputes with them, but things really came to a head when they kidnapped Findekáno's sister." And he tells the story. 

Oh wow. Yes. He is deeply unsettled by the kidnapping and deeply impressed with Findekáno's response.

"I hope your sister's okay now. That's - wow. Wow."

"She's hanging out with Tyelcormo and stabbing a lot of spiders. I practically appreciate the spiders; they are limitless, as far as we can tell no more intelligent than normal spiders, and super dangerous and thus a great outlet for people who for one reason or another want to stab a lot of nasty things."

"Whenever the spiders come up as the next thing on my priority list, I'll be sure to check who's using them for stress relief at the time."

"That'll mean the Enemy's dead, and I bet that'll do more for morale than any amount of spiders."

"You have a point there," he says, grinning. Findekáno is so good.

He has done the 'fall in love with a wonderful Elf without noticing' thing once already and he's forewarned enough to catch it happening this time. Aww. He is so glad to have the chance to fall in love with these wonderful Elves. And maybe Findekáno will escape whatever bizarre happenstance is interfering with his soul's appreciation of Maitimo—he glances down at it to see what it thinks—

—and it finally explains the problem. Not in words, but in a rush of understanding. Findekáno is Maitimo's prisoner, held under coerced oaths, one of which is currently making him want whatever Maitimo wants—Maitimo is a rapist and if this night goes much farther Taliar will be too—

He freezes, unable to move, unable to breathe, hardly able to think.

And his soul screams.

The sound is high and shrill and loud, like a winter storm howling through a mountain pass, like metal screeching against metal. Like agony and terror and heartbreak and loss.

Golden light starts fading to silver, and Taliar has his first half-coherent reaction: rage. The famous Kazaryne temper, caught up with him at last, blazing like sunfire under his skin, singing there will be blood—

No. There will not. He will not. His mind comes fully alive again, chasing down the consequences, understanding the depth and intricacy of the trap. He lets the anger pass, a flashfire burning itself up, over before it begins. He can't kill Maitimo, because Maitimo has a kingdom depending on him, because everything he loved about Maitimo was true, he does run his country that well, it would suffer for his loss - and everything he loved about Maitimo was true, and Taliar still loves him for it, and to deny that would be to betray himself...

But he can't stand for this, either, his soul is still shrieking in mortal agony, its light failing, all the warmth and power falling away, because every moment he allows this to continue is the worst thing he has ever done, every frantic heartbeat an intolerable crime—how is he supposed to fix this, there's nothing he can do, nowhere he can turn—

Could he run away—? The answer arrives almost before the question: no. Even if he somehow engineered an escape out from under the brilliant king who is currently reading his mind, if he ran he would have to rebuild his soul from scratch as a fugitive and that would be unacceptable because it would slow the defeat of the Enemy - not to mention risk his death or capture - and then even if he somehow made it through and defeated the evil god, he'd end up back at square one, caught between condoning rape and going to war with someone he loves. An unwinnable scenario.

Silver fades to cloudy grey, and the scream, too, is faltering. For a brief instant he contemplates killing himself, but that would just fail all his objectives at once. No.

The only way out is right here. He has to stay with Maitimo, he has to trust that Maitimo will prioritize winning the war enough to work with him to get his soul functioning again, and he has to hope that somehow they'll manage it.

Given that a second ago he was openly contemplating Maitimo's murder, he had better commit to his chosen course as thoroughly and unambiguously as possible. He can't win this with force - he can't win this at all - he can only surrender completely, and leave the rest to hope.

Taliar yanks the necklace chain over his head as his soul's scream trails off into silence. He flings it at Maitimo and collapses sobbing to the floor.

He catches it. It's not shining, it's still beautiful - it's half reflex - he catches Taliar's soul in his hands -

It is immediately obvious to Taliar exactly what the problem is with people touching other people's souls.

Maitimo is holding the physical embodiment of Taliar's whole self and identity in his hands. It's unbearably intimate. And ten seconds ago it would have been the best thing in the world - it was exactly the thing he was looking for, that first night, when he had the thought that sharing his whole mind wasn't enough - and now it's simultaneously the best thing imaginable and the worst; the perfect completion of his desire to give Maitimo all of himself, a desire he still feels, while also feeling indescribable horror at that same prospect, hating himself for loving someone who could do the things Maitimo has done...

To call it overwhelming would be a staggering understatement. It's utterly incapacitating. He can't form coherent thoughts, can barely form sensory impressions of the world around him; his mind is filled to overflowing with a storm of raw emotion.

His soul has kept its shape, though it's lost most of its colour. A smooth, glassy figurine of a bird with wings outstretched, cool to the touch, solid all the way through but somehow also filled with a pearly grey mist that swirls slowly under its surface. A tiny golden spark flickers at its heart, giving off a barely-perceptible light.

"What happened -"

He is still holding it, quite still. "His soul told him - magically - and he has to, has to do what he thinks is right, and he can't think what that is, and so he -"

He sets it carefully down on the bed, the chain still looped around his wrist.

And he waits for Taliar to start stringing thoughts together again.

He recovers senses and movement first, and curls up into a little ball and cries.

They look at each other uncertainly.

He is terrified and heartbroken and helpless and—he almost misses Maitimo holding his soul—

—if he was ever the person he thought he was, he should've been able to do something—

—how much of his soul is even left—

It inventories itself for him. Lie detection. Osanwë. Enough healing aura to half-fill a small room.

"It's okay, wouldn't have been worth another healing tour for a few years anyway and maybe by then we'll have figured something out."