Repudiate || legolas

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𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

The world was calm. But the small room where the healer slept, a prince who snuck, threw an open window craddeling his head in his arms. "I'm going to have to leave soon, legolas..." the cursed elf said softly. His eyes glazed over, the events from a day before affecting his mind and body.

"No, you don't," he said as if a command feeling the soft brown hair of his head. It was slowly fading, as each day passed to a cold white. The curse became more visible. They both knew the truth. He would have to leave eventually. The need for blood, the growing look of illness, and the new found intensity of magic. They knew. Listening to his heartbeat, Trevad struggled. He needed to take life... drain it.

"Just try Trevad..." he said softly, holding out his wrist.

The elf sat up, looking at him with wide blue eyes, "legolas..." The hunger was painful like thorns in his throat

"Take of me of what you please," he begged softly. Trevad hesitated, unsure of what this meant if he were to indulge in what his soul needed.

Bite.

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Awarthon never thought he would see the place again. He couldn't help but take in the smell of the air once more. The chilling smell of home. It was chilling to his very core. This wasn't his home anymore. For they didn't recognize him as an elf... nor as a being worth saving. 'Witch' the elves called him as they pushed him with the group. Not recognizing Awarthon for who he was, only knowing the signs of black magic and how it affects those who use it. Part of that hurt his heart and soul, but his mind seemed to seek pleasure in reminding Awarthon he was disowned. That to them, he was nothing more than his curse. And that didn't upset him as much as he thought. He always enjoyed pissing people off.

What hurt his soul the most was not the elves whom he had known that didn't recognize him. But Legolas. His love didn't recognize him. The emotions that were overwhelming seemed to be apparent on the souless gaze that plagued Awarthon's face. "Is everything alright?" Kili asked softly, seeing the look on his face. The most emotion he had been shown by the closed off appearing warlock.

"..." his words failed him, how easy it would be to confide in Kili. All he could do was look at him, furrowing his eyebrows and mouth agape. His small fangs are apparent. To explain it to someone other than the one who didn't even recognize him, yet he still loved felt vulnerable. Even if he wanted to talk, he couldn't. He watched as Kili was pushed and told to be quiet. Kili gave a small apologetic look, hoping to bring comfort as he knew there was more to the story. Why were the strangers ears deformed, and the color was draining from him slowly. The gates shut, locking them in. His concern was growing, for he had no idea if Bilbo would be safe out there alone. For there was no way he could be reached if the hobbit was in danger.

Even before his banishment, a tip to the prisons for a night or two wasn't uncommon. Who knew sneaking into the castle for a prince would land someone in jail. Or talk back to the king, practice illegal magic, or even just do social laws wrong. If it wasn't for Legolas, Awarthon would have been banished long before the curse took his body as its host. The frequency of Thranduil catching him and his son allowed for the warlock to sadly know the prisons like the back of his hands. Then again, he hardly saw the back of his hands since the curse, so it seemed to fit still. Though, at the state of mirkwood and of the fores,  he now called home. The curse which in habited his body seemed to be in vain.

It alarmed him when he felt someone pull him away by the back of his neck. Legolas. He watched as Kili was put in a cell. "Why dose the dwarf stare at you, Tauriel?"