Unconditional Surrender

Author: Lomelindi

Rating: R

Warnings: Twincest. (Nuada/Nuala)

Summary: (Movie-based, spoilers for HB2. ) Since the moment she was born, Princess Nuala has always walked a thin line between her duties as a daughter and her loyalties to her twin. Nuada/Nuala. Spans from the ancient war to the second movie.

Notes: Purely movie-based. Any background info is speculated from my brain, so please don't remind me how much this story may not resemble comic!canon or real mythology.

My one-shot "Apologies" can be considered a prequel to this, but both stories can stand alone.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When they fought, it was like the world trembled and the sky darkened around her. Nuala was afraid, so very afraid that the rift growing between the two people that she loved the most may one day engulf what little was left of their Royal Family. The prince and the king often shared harsh words, and while none of their verbal fights have so far lead to violence, Nuala knew it was only a matter of time before steel blades replaced their sharp tongues. The thought made her heart clench painfully within her chest.

She hung her head and hugged herself, praying that the newest verbal battle would end as quickly as it started. Her father and brother's voices were muffled by the thick door, but she could hear enough --more than enough.

"We are not defeated!"

"But we are losing, my son. What will you have me do? Sacrifice what little warriors we have left?"

"We live longer than they do, we heal faster--"

"We are fewer! Even if there is only a few of them, their numbers will rebound in a generation or two and we will suffer for it."

"Then we keep killing them."

"No!"

Her father's tone made Nuala wince. He almost never raised his voice, but even a deaf man could hear that Nuada was testing his patience.

"No," the king repeated, quieter this time. His voice was raspy and exhausted. "There will be no more bloodshed. We have lost."

"But the goblins--"

"But nothing, Nuada, I will not hear it! I will send a letter to the humans tomorrow conceding our defeat. That is my final decision."

Nuala's thin fingers dug into her sleeves until her knuckles were whiter than bone. Her shoulders shook with fright until she thought she could feel ice dripping down her back. Since a princess had no say in times of war, she knew her father and her brother cared not about her opinion nor needed her presence in these affairs of state, but every biting remark from their lips ripped through her like a knife through butter.

Stop it, she begged in her mind, hoping that, by some miracle, her brother may hear it through his fit of rage. Please, both of you.

There was sudden silence in the throne room, then a resounding bang as the chamber doors were flung open.

Nuala visibly jumped and looked up just in time to see her brother storm out of the chamber in a blur of red robes and white hair. He paused only a few feet away from her, breathing hard and reeking rage out of every pore of his body. Nuala flinched. Now with no door to separate them, she could sense his temper simmering at his edge of their bond like a dam threatening to burst. It wasn't a terribly pleasant sensation.

"Did you hear?" Nuada demanded, one hand clenched around the long knife at his hip, the other pointed accusingly at their father, who still sat on his throne. His eyes seemed to have brightened from a dull, reddish-gold to something that resembled open flames. Nuada didn't lose his temper often, but when he did, it was an explosive and terrifying sight.

Her own eyes wide with fear, Nuala didn't dare lie. "I did."

"And?" He wanted her to agree with him --he always wanted her to agree with him.

Nuala hesitated, but she stood her ground and kept her face as passive as she could. "I... think you should listen to Father," she answered slowly.

Nuada's nostrils flared. That was not what he wanted to hear. He glared at her for a moment longer before storming away with a growl in his throat, no doubt off to take his anger on any unfortunate servants that stood between him and his room.

Nuala watched him go, unable to fight off the feeling that she had just failed some test. She wanted to agree with him, if only out of compassion, but her mind told her to agree with their father --yes, there should be no more war, no more death. Too many of their warriors had to be buried this year, and she did not want any more maidens or elfings to lose their sons, husbands or brothers.

"You speak wisely, my daughter."

Nuala turned and went to her father's throne, kneeling before it with her head bowedShe prayed that he could not see her shaking as easily as her twin could. "...Father?"

His eyes were distant, focused on a point somewhere beyond her head. "His pride has blinded him to our losses," he whispered, his voice exhausted from attempting to keep up with his much younger son. A rough, ancient hand settled on her head and stroked her hair as a master might stroke a pampered pet. "Speak to him. He will listen to you."

No, he won't. Not about this. But the princess only gave a sweet smile and nodded before sweeping away in a graceful blur of tan silk. She left nothing but the lingering scent of jasmine in her steps.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

She loved watching her brother practice. His movements were like liquid metal, full of deadly strength and yet so fast that not even an elven eye could follow him. The spear became an extension of his body, a limb with no muscle that could kill an enemy in one slice and be gone a split second later, as if it was never there to begin with. Nuada of the Silver Lance --that's what he was called. He may excel in every type of weapon, but everyone knew that the lance would always be his favorite. Even as a child, he had been drawn to them, drawn to their flexibility and their strength and the sheer range of their attack.

A particularly large swing of his spear swept a brush of wind through her hair, making her blink as the blade came dangerously close to her face. Her rosy lips curled upward in a slight smile, one only visible to those that knew where to look. He meant to do that. She had learned a long time ago never to doubt her twin's absolute control over his weapons. He liked teasing his enemy as much as he liked showing off, and she knew she was in no immediate danger if he felt like flaunting how close his blade could come to her face.

Eventually, Nuada slowed and did one last swing, twirling the lance around his neck before planting it solidly on the ground with a resounding twang. He watched the weapon vibrate in his hand before finally fixing his bright, flashing eyes on her. It was the first time he had looked at her since she came into the room. "If you are here to lecture me, I will hear none of it."

The princess traced the hem of her dress with one dainty foot --a nervous habit. "Father only means best," she said quietly, looking away.

"Our king has brought upon the doom of our people," Nuada hissed, glaring at her from under long, mussed hair.

"We are not dead yet," Nuala corrected gently.

Nuada's eyes hardened, but there was no real malice behind his gaze, only the frustration of a trapped man. "So what is it that he wants? Does he want us to fade away and leave this world to the humans? They will burn the forests, murder the animals and rip apart the trees!"

Nuala remained quiet, looking at him with eyes that were lost in his own. Sliding one pale hand down to the black sheets she sat on, she patted the space beside her on the bed. "Come," she whispered.

He complied, sliding his body up against hers like it was second nature. For them, it was.

Nuala's hands slid out to greet him, tracing up the beautiful gold embroidery of his collar before snaking her fingers into his hair. She loved the robe he was wearing. It was something their father had worn when he was a prince, and something their grandfather had worn long before that. It was an intense and vibrant red from the collar all the way down to his boots, and it gave his already beautiful eyes such a bright and lively hue. Others said it made him look like he was wearing a blanket of blood, but Nuala didn't think in such terms --to her, the robe made him look ethereal, like a defiant red beacon of light in a world that was steadily growing darker and darker around them.

"Nuala..." He made a slight face at her fussing. He didn't like this robe --it was too long for his tastes, too restraining. The prince much preferred tunics that allowed him to move freely in battle, but their father often forced him to wear such outfits when they were within the royal palace. He figured he wouldn't have to wear it for much longer, since the advancing human troops would soon overtake the castle and send them fleeing for the safety of the woods.

"You speak as if you have seen the future," the princess whispered, drawing her fingers through his hair and undoing the knots he had gained from his practicing. "You can do many things, Brother, but that is one ability I know you do not have." Having finished with his hair, she brushed one side of it behind his ear and traced her fingers over his dark lips, wishing that she could stop him from saying all the words of doom and death that frightened her so.

He kissed her fingertips with gentle reverence. "What is a prince to do then, when he is forced into defeat before he is ready to do so?"

She looked at him with serious eyes. "Father wishes to save what little we have left. He has... honorable intentions."

"And I do not?" There was sudden tension between them, and he pulled away.

She missed his warmth but didn't dare chase it. Her twin would return to her when he was ready --he always did. "You do," she sighed, curling her hands in her lap. "You are so very brave, my brother, but bravery alone will not win a war."

He ran a hand irritably through his hair, mussing it again, but she admired the way it tumbled down over one shoulder. He suddenly fell back on to the bed, curling his arms under his head and looking up at the ceiling where there was an ancient diagram of a night sky etched into every inch. "I will find a way," he murmured. "There must be a way."

Nuala followed him, the smooth silk of her sleeves dancing over his chest as she hovered above him, suddenly looking very sad. "Must you always rush off to battle? There are better things in life, Brother." Like staying here. With me.

He reached up and cupped her cheek as tenderly as an artist may handle porcelain. "'Tis in the nature of a lion to hunt for meat. You cannot stop him."

I know. And that was what ripped her heart.

A strong arm suddenly curled around her chest, making her gasp as she suddenly found herself rolled on to the bed in a mess of tan dress and white hair. She looked up to find her brother holding himself above her with his elbows and looking extremely pleased with himself. His own hair descended upon her face like a cascade of woven silk and through the darkness that it caused, she could see him smirking. "I have but twenty four hours to find a way to change our father's mind, Sister," he whispered, "but there is more than enough time in there for you."

Perhaps it was because he was always listless when he was angry, or perhaps it was he sensed how much she wanted him here, at home. Either way, they both knew she would not deny him.

Nuala said nothing. She knew she didn't need to. She reached up, slid her fingers against the collar of the robe that she loved so much, and promptly parted it down the middle. He leaned down to kiss her soundly, shifting so that she could bare his shoulders and run her hands appreciatively over his powerful arms.

The elves rarely made love entirely naked, for the sensation of elven skin against elven skin was terribly, painfully sweet. Nuada did not like to bare his legs, his sister knew, but he had no qualms against baring his chest. And oh, how she adored that chest. It seemed to have been sculpted out of pure marble, with planes that dipped and rose like the mountains in the hidden valley.

"Perfection," he agreed in a low purr as he tore another soft, keening cry from her throat. It was immediately obvious if he was referring to her or to himself. He kissed her neck with feverish need, his nails creating lines of burning fire that slid up her creamy thighs. He could feel the same feeling in his own body only a second later, as well as her own, smaller nails digging into his back. The sensations were slowly driving him mad.

It soon became hard to tell where one twin began and where the other ended, but neither of them bothered to try. His musky scent and her sweeter one would melt together into the silk sheets of his bed and they both knew it would linger for days, despite their best attempts to clean the room.

Though they never spoke of it to each other, they liked it that way. Her brother's scent in her sheets was one the few things that could quell Nuala's thoughts when he was away at war. Likewise, her scent in his sheets was something that would call him home from battle to a sister and a kingdom that loved him dearly.

Their passion was rising to a feverish pitch, and Nuala was lost, burning, aching for more. Nuada locked their lips in a desperate dance and she relented to his strength, offering her mouth and lips and neck --her soul-- up to her twin's insatiable appetite. Though her brother was usually gentle with her and treated her as if he was afraid she would shatter like glass if he held her too hard, he was much larger than she was and much heavier. His scent, his heat, and his very strength surrounded her from the inside out and she knew she couldn't get away from him even when she tried.

In her feverish and passion-clouded mind, the princess made note of something different. Nuada almost seemed... distracted. He played skillfully with her body until she mewled and wriggled for more, but his mind seemed elsewhere, as if he was focused on a subject much larger than she.

She found out what it was later, after their sweaty limbs were entangled under the sheets and she had drifted to sleep with the sound of his powerful heartbeat under her ear. He had toyed with her hair until he, too, fell asleep to the sound of a night owl hooting outside.

She awoke in the middle of the night with a cold spot beside her but a warm, familiar sensation in her mind that told her her twin was near.

Silently, the groggy princess sat up and rummaged around for something to wear. Her dress was ruined, possibly torn (her brother could be so impatient sometimes), but she found a bed tunic that she quickly slipped into and wrapped around her waist. It was much too long for her and exposed part of her right shoulder, but it was enough to shield her tender breasts from the cold night air.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of loose trousers, Nuada was sitting at his desk at the foot of the bed, long white hair tossed impatiently over one shoulder, his proud head and his powerful shoulders bent over a piece of parchment that he was writing on. He had lit a candle by his elbow and was clearly in the midst of some sort of... epiphany.

Nuala wondered if he had finally gone mad, but she could sense nothing but calmness on the other end of their bond. Well, calmness and a sense of utter defiance, stronger than what she had felt just hours ago. He has an idea.She knew she should be happy for him, but why did she feel such a chill up her spine? Was this not the exact opposite of what her Father wanted to happen?

Wrapping her thin arms around his neck, she sought the heat from his bare back. "Will you not come to bed?" she whispered in his ear. "Surely you can write this in the morning."

"Goblins are more active at night," he answered briskly. Then, as if to apologize for his tone, he looked up and kissed her tenderly. The kiss made her knees feel weak. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering in the candlelight. "I know we are far from dead, Sister, and I seek to keep it that way."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

AN: Every time I write something that I think will be multi-chaptered, I get the feeling that my muses will give out on me half-way. Hopefully, this time, they won't. I will, however, probably end up writing each chapter like a one-shot, since I think things flow quicker and smoother that way if you guys don't have to surf through me endlessly babbling to fill in the gaps between important scenes.

And for anyone that was confused by the ending of this chapter, Nuada is writing for the goblin blacksmith to come and speak to his father about the forging of the Golden Army. :p