and now self-indulgent invasion au poly catpile fic
companion piece/continuation of this? can be read alone, but it's intended as a follow-up to that fic.
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As Curufinwe had come to expect, the king and queen were quite thoroughly wrapped around each other when they arrived.
It was an interesting feature of the pair that he’d noted, soon after the situation had become more normalised, more political and less military - rarely did they accompany each other without such demonstrative behaviour, whether to a social function or a matter of state. One’s perogative, Curufinwe supposed, when you’d reached power enough to launch a successful invasion of the Blessed Realm.
Even the monarchs of Anadune, Umbar, and the New Western Territories , however, needed to bow to physics; and with the doors to Hyellinde’s townhouse no wider than any of the others in the older parts of Tirion, they were forced to unlink their twined arms as they stepped across the doorway into the sitting room. Curufinwe exchanged pleasantries with the pair of them as they unlaced their boots; by the time they’d exchanged them for slippers, Hyellinde had arrived to welcome them properly. And the queen had joined herself back to Azulzir’s side even as she sunk into a gracious curtsey, thanking Hyellinde for her hospitality.
Occasionally when Curufinwe felt like amusing himself, he thought of the reaction he’d likely get if he were to mention to Azulzir how charmingly elven of a couple they seemed - a scowl complete with wrinkled nose, a sneer shaped by actual irritation, a muttered I’ll show you exactly how elvish I am in my relationships, arrogant eleda. (Sometimes his imagination continued, to a kiss demonstrating precisely Azulzir’s point - ah yes look I am exceedingly exclusive - but he should not go too far past the point of an easily controlled expression.)
As his thoughts drifted back to his exterior surroundings, the four of them took their semi-practised places at Hyellinde’s table, already heaped with steaming plates and pots of the new dishes she’d instructed her servants to learn for the evening. Curufinwe could tell Azulzir’s appreciation from the subtle flicker in his expression; Arosse was more direct, with a distinctly honest (if begrudging - it was always begrudging, between them) compliment to Hyellinde for the thought and execution.
“I did ask my sister if she had any recommendations,” was Hyellinde’s gracious (and barbed) reply; and then came the smile that always made her look as though she were ten steps ahead of you whenever she felt like it. Arosse gave an irritated flick of her expression (one that, with its frequency of used, managed to thankfully dispose of the thoroughly saccharine impression her features would otherwise have); Azulzir tried to hide a short laugh before he sobered, collecting himself and looking up at the pair of them sitting opposite.
“I do bring official matters to discuss, unfortunately,” he said. He placed his hands, clasped, on the table in front of him; Curufinwe could hear the cadence of his voice change slightly. It was something that always happened when he switched topics, even when they were only speaking privately like this.
“My staff and I have had… petitions, you see, from some of the Umbarans, who wish to emigrate and settle towns here in Aman just as our Aduna families have. Which I would grant, save for the… obvious issues. Which, despite their nature as a metaphysical constraint rather than a choice I have made, would pose a political threat that my detractors would simply love to tear me apart for, as it would be clearly the opposite of the panhuman solidarity I have thusfar advocated…”
He tilted his head, frowning in thought. Curufinwe raised an eyebrow. “You want a solution to the problem of mortal decay in Aman,” he guessed.
“It would be ideal,” Azulzir conceded. He did look a bit pained – still, Curufinwe assumed, less than thrilled with the notion of asking elves for help en masse. Not that he could blame him.
Hyellinde cut a bite of the lamb from her plate. “I shall speak with representatives from the ritualist guilds on the matter, then.”
“And I my father – Atar and his colleagues should have some thoughts, I’m certain.”
With a look at her husband and a brush of her hand to his, Arosse sighed. “Very well, and I suppose you’ll consider this you being entirely correct here?” she asked icily.
Azulzir went quiet. A bubble encasing himself and Arosse, separating them from the other two, seemed to have come into existence in the space between an eye’s blink. “It’s not that of a sudden I have a wholehearted trust for them all, ‘Rosse,” he murmured.
That didn’t stop her lips from pursing. “We’ve our own scientists, if you’ve forgotten, buried in all your awe for Feanor’s things - “
"You eat at this table just as I do," he said, a bit quick, a bit tight. From the corner of his eye, Curufinwe chanced a look at Hyellinde, who it seemed had done the same. Neither of them were much used to hearing such outbursts openly before them, he surmised.
"You eat at this table because adaptation is a mark of growth and survival," Azulzir continued; less sharp now but still strained. He gestured with one hand at the scene spread before them. "And you eat our food here, made by Eldar well enough for you to give your compliments.” He inhaled slightly, looking down. “‘Rosse, please.”
Arosse looked away from both her husband and her hosts as well, cheeks reddened. It was hardly that Curufinwe should wish to admit such a thing, but - he had sympathy enough for her position, for once. His had been a similar one… And yet now here he was, acknowledging as much, if only to himself.
For all those thoughts, the silence heavy between them was broken first by Hyellinde - a resolution that did not surprise Curufinwe in the least. “None of us here intend aught but respect, Highness,” she stated; low, calm, melodiously soothing. “Though speaking personally - I should also like to mention my pleasure at your complimentary appraisal earlier.”
Arosse shifted to meet Hyellinde’s gaze then, for it was just as direct as her husband’s had been averted. Transforming her sandstone skin near to russet, she was now blushing even deeper than before.
