Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

Aurion stirred awake, the lingering ache in his arm a dull reminder of the poison coursing through him. As he blinked, he realized he wasn't on the bed—he was in Lossiriel's closet. His body was covered in blankets.

Peering through the crack in the closet door, he saw Lossiriel sitting at her desk. Her back was to him, and her head was bent low as she sketched something on a piece of parchment. The air in the room felt heavy and cold, a faint shimmer of frost coating the edges of the furniture.

Aurion hesitated before stepping out. "Lossiriel?" he said softly.

She turned sharply, her silver hair swaying, and he froze. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she'd been crying for hours, and her expression carried a cold fury that cut deeper than words. The frosty aura around her seemed to intensify.

"You're awake," she said, her voice sharp but trembling. She stood and crossed the room quickly, but before he could explain himself, she shoved him onto the bed.

"You stupid, reckless idiot!" Lossiriel shouted, her voice cracking as her hand struck his face, leaving a sharp, stinging chill behind. Another slap followed, and then another. Each time her palm met his skin, the frostbite deepened, the cold seeping into his cheeks and jaw.

Aurion barely managed to raise a hand. "Lossiriel—stop! I—"

"You could have died!" she screamed, her voice breaking as tears poured down her face. She kept slapping him, but her strength waned with every strike. The icy aura around her grew more intense, frost spreading along the bedposts and the walls.

Suddenly, she collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her body trembled, not from cold but from quiet sobs. "You stupid, stupid elf," she muttered between gasps. "Why would you do that? Why would you risk your life?"

Aurion was at a loss. He could feel the dampness of her tears against his shirt, but the icy chill of her touch had seeped deep into his bones. He gently wrapped his arms around her, but before he could say anything, she fell unconscious.

"Lossiriel?" Aurion whispered urgently, shaking her lightly. Her body felt colder now, her breath shallow and uneven.

He laid her carefully on the bed, pulling every blanket he could find over her. Her icy aura was still present, and the room seemed to grow colder by the second. Frost climbed the walls like creeping vines, and small icicles formed along the edges of the furniture.

As he watched her, she began thrashing, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow. Her lips moved as though she were speaking, but the words were faint and incoherent. Tears continued to fall from her closed eyes, but they weren't ordinary tears—they crystallized into tiny shards of ice, cold enough to sting Aurion's fingers when he brushed them away.

She suddenly cried out, her voice sharp and pained. "Mother…!" The name hit him like a blow, and then, to his surprise, she whispered another name: "Aurion…"

Aurion's heart clenched. He moved closer, kneeling by her side. "I'm here, Lossiriel," he said softly, though he doubted she could hear him.

Her thrashing grew worse, the frost thickening in the room. Desperate, Aurion did the only thing he could think of. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close despite the biting cold that burned his skin.

"I'm here," he whispered again, his lips near her ear. "You're safe, Lossiriel. I'll protect you."

As he held her, the frost seemed to lessen, the cold aura around her fading. Her breathing steadied, and the tension in her body eased. Even in her unconscious state, she responded to his presence, murmuring his name once more.

Aurion pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his own tears falling freely now. "I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'll always be with you, no matter what."

Her body relaxed completely, and the frost in the room melted away. The air returned to its usual chill, but the oppressive cold was gone.

Aurion stayed by her side for a while longer, brushing away the last remnants of her crystal tears. When he was sure she was peacefully asleep, he gently tucked her in and began cleaning up the room. The frost left behind faint marks on the walls and furniture, but nothing he couldn't fix.

By the time he was done, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He returned to the closet, curling up on the blankets she had left for him. As he drifted off, his last thoughts were of Lossiriel, her blonde hair gleaming like moonlight even in the darkened room.