Yet Were Its Making Good, For This by LadySternchen  

Loyalty

That year, they still called it. 
Words that were still spoken with downcast eyes and longing and regret in the speaker's voice, for the years that had passed since had not brought solace. Nobody had walked away from the shores unscathed then. For Mablung, that year marked the parting from his parents and sisters, and oh, how terribly he missed them. Nonetheless, he was glad that they were safe now in Valinor, and would live forever in the bliss of the Treelight and under Olwë’s gentle rule. Olwë… the memory of Olwë’s pain still haunted him almost as much as the parting from his own family. He had been so distraught at leaving Elmo and Nowë and at the guilt he was feeling for taking Elwë’s place.

Unbidden, Elwë’s words slunk back into Mablung's mind, like they had done at the parting and so many times since. The gleam in his eyes when he had talked to them about the sea and its beauty, and how they should all come and see it for themselves, and then decide. He had spoken of the sundering of the elves then, and that he saw no way to avoid it. Oh, what irony that was. Hardly anyone of those who had remained in Beleriand would have chosen to stay behind. On the contrary, many of them were those who had been moved the most by Elwë’s tales of Valinor, and the most eager to reach it. And yet it was them now who stayed on these shores now out of loyalty for Elwë.

Mulling all that over once again in his mind, Mablung, upon hearing the name of his friend again, did not at once realise that the name was called by real voices, not just by thoughts in his own head. But then he glanced up, and his world tumbled around him all over again. He turned around in disbelief, and found Beleg standing close by, looking as dumbfounded as Mablung felt. Together, like moths to fire, they drew closer to the little group of elves that was the centre of everyone’s attention.

Mablung gazed in disbelief at Elwë standing with Nowë a few feet away, and the -in want of a better word- elf-maid beside him. So many feelings raced through him that he was unable to grasp even a single one of them, safe perhaps utter astonishment. He stood and watched as Elmo was brought to the scene, as he confronted Elwë, as Elwë explained who Melian was, and what had happened to them during the past two centuries. Mablung was utterly flummoxed. He had thought it through so often, had tried to think of every possible solution to Elwë’s disappearance, but nothing had come even close to him coming upon a Maia, and falling in love with her.

Did he, in his heart of hearts, now feel betrayed? But no, he must not, he told himself, that had been precisely why Elwë had so long held back, because he had not been sure of his feelings. It had been he, Mablung, who had pressed him after all, and he would not blame his friend now for falling in love with someone else. Yet adamant as Mablung was in this, he could still not deny that it hurt terribly, nor would it prevent him from curling up under his cloak later and let his tears fall. He gave himself into his pain, and said farewell to his hopes and dreams. Bitter these hours were, but in the end, a grim determination came of them as well. He had lost Elwë as a lover, yes, but he had not lost him. And Mablung would do all in his might to remain by Elwë’s side, even if all he could do was watch over him.

It was for that reason that Mablung, still very nervous about meeting Elwë once more, went to seek him out a few days later, once Elwë had had time to catch up with his closest family, and to get to terms with his little brother, for whom Elwë had always acted the role of a parent, now being a father himself. Mablung knew Elwë well enough to guess the emotional turmoil that knowledge must cause him, and one part of him truly felt sorry for Elwë for missing out on all this. The other -much larger- part of his mind said quite clearly: serves you right for abandoning us. It was no use telling himself that Elwë had not intended to leave them, Mablung knew that himself, and still could do nothing against the savage satisfaction those thoughts brought to him.

When he finally stood before Elwë, he silently looked him up and down, his heart pounding in his chest. Elwë looked so different from the way Mablung remembered him, gaunter, with every last trace of the soft features of boyhood gone from his face, but that only enhanced his beauty. There was also a feeling of power about him that reminded Mablung vaguely of Ossë and Uinen. Well, he thought wryly, being enchanted by a Maia certainly left its mark. Yet changed though Elwë was, the look in his grey eyes was still painfully familiar to Mablung. He read pity there, remorse, insecurity- yet he would not deal with that now, as he had made up his mind during these past days. Feelings -least of all Elwë’s feelings- did not matter now.

“Mablung…” Elwë began at last, his voice low and hoarse “I… I do not know what to say.”

Mablung shook his head.

“You need not say anything. I am immeasurably glad you are back. Nothing -nothing- else matters. You’re alive!”

Elwë inclined his head.

“That I am.”

They kept standing for a while like this, just gazing at each other, with so much that remained unsaid between them. Then, finally, Mablung knelt down, bowing his head.

“What…?”

“Willst thou suffer me to remain by thy side as thy vassal then, my lord?”

“Suffer it? Mablung, I would be honoured… but you need not…”

Mablung steeled himself against all the feelings that came with hearing the utter astonishment in Elwë’s voice. He had made a decision, and by this he stood.

“Then I pledge my allegiance to thee, lord. I swear to defend thee and thy realm with my life if need be, and to hear thy word at all times.”

Elwë did not answer, and Mablung remained kneeling, his eyes cast down. A part of him -the one he was not particularly proud of- again felt a grim pleasure in making Elwë this uncomfortable, and was greatly sated by the awkward silence between them now. But then he felt Elwë move, and was astounded to find him crouching down, grasping Mablung’s arms gently.

“Get up, Mablung, please. I will have you swear no oaths‚ none of you. You have all proven that you are faithful to me, more so than I would ever have asked you to. I could never want for more. And I have never doubted your loyalty anyway, and never shall.”

Mablung raised his head and looked straight into Elwë’s eyes that glistened with unshed tears.

“And yet I swear them.” he said firmly, rising to his feet as Elwë did the same. 
For a moment, they looked silently at each other again, then Elwë held out his hands to Mablung, and Mablung took them in his own, and stooped down to press his lips to Elwë’s slender fingers.

“And I shall accept them.” Elwë said solemnly, cupping Mablung’s face in his hands and kissing his brow in return.

Looking back, becoming accustomed to the new situation was easier than Mablung had expected at first. For one, seeing Elwë and Melian so deeply in love moved Mablung to the core, and heartened him, and made him feel that his own heartbreak was worth it. For another, a vast part of his affection for Elwë had ever been his will to protect him, and that he could still do. It had always felt to Mablung that he was the only one to feel that Elwë needed protection, to see his vulnerability. Everyone else overestimated his strength, now more than ever before. But look like one of Melian’s own kin as he might, Mablung still saw the youth in him who had cried bitter tears as he turned away from his brothers, still saw him stumble with exhaustion after carrying his sleeping brother through half the night, still heard him beg Mablung to take him as he pleased, if only that meant release from responsibility for a little while, and remembered with piercing accuracy Elwë’s sincere gratitude whenever Mablung complied, and how he had slept in his arms afterwards.

So even while he watched with all the others as Elwë knelt before Nowë (or Círdan as they now called him for his shipbuilding) a year to the day after his return, receiving crown and staff, and listened to him promise to keep them all safe and happy to the best of his ability, he did not share their feelings of gladness of having a king now who would protect them.
And who is going to protect you? A voice was screaming in Mablung’s head. You can’t stand there, alone, pretending that you’re stronger than you are.

But then, deep within his heart, he suddenly knew the answer, and that almost made him cry tears of gratitude. Melian. Melian would, because she saw him, him, not the mask he was wearing, and for that, Mablung would love and honour his Queen almost as much as he did Elwë himself.