The massive fortress of Thargelion hummed with the strained energy of recent battle and the unexpected demands of hospitality. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, but also the sharp, metallic tang of blood and the pervasive exhaustion of the Haladin. For two days, Caranthir had been entirely focused on providing aid to Haleth and her people, his inherent gruffness overridden by the clear demands of duty.

Caranthir stood over a large, rough map spread across a trestle table, his form imposing even in the dim lamplight. Directly across from him was Haleth, her face smudged with soot and fatigue, but her eyes alight with an unyielding will. She was direct, without the deference the Noldor usually expected. "The pass can only be held by a few score," she stated, her hand tapping the map, her proximity to the Prince natural, born of shared purpose and extreme peril. "We need to fortify the southern slope." Caranthir's response was a low, precise baritone. He was engaged, completely absorbed in her tactical assessment, acknowledging her fierce intelligence. His dark eyes, usually so cold, held a sharp, focused intensity that seemed to respect her courage.

However, as he spoke, detailing the movements of his own riders, his gaze would subtly lift and flick past Haleth. It wasn't a glance to the room in general, but a sharp, proprietary fixation on you, his cousin and the quiet object of his deep affection, who stood a little distance away, perhaps overseeing the distribution of food or bandages. He was talking to Haleth, but he was performing for you. With every precise word and every shared, intense look with the warrior maiden, he was silently challenging your heart. He wanted to see the jealousy, the possessiveness, the same fierce need he felt mirrored in your eyes.

He was holding himself closer to Haleth than necessary, his elbow brushing her side as he pointed to a river crossing, then—flick—his eyes would meet yours, a brief, silent demand for a reaction. With a final, decisive nod to Haleth, confirming the orders for her people, he stepped back, creating space. His eyes, however, stayed locked on yours, his expression a mixture of challenge and hungry anticipation. The conversation with the woman of Men was over; the silent, far more dangerous conversation with you had just begun.