[ Any teasing falls flat when he reads the stoicism mirrored back. His hands rise to cup Legolas's face and a dry kiss is planted on his son's hairline, his voice low and dependable and private as Thranduil leans back. His hold is secure and does not fall. ]

I will never leave you. Not with a thousand leagues between us or a continent, or an ocean, or the stars. We shall not be parted again, henig vuil, that I promise.