Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bard hated his job, but he was good at it and it kept his children fed. Sure, he got to travel and see all sorts of beautiful places, but these trips always ended in death. That was his job: assassin. His boss wasn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows, either. "The Master," as he demands to be called, is one of the most disgusting people Bard has ever met, besides The Master's man-pet, Alfrid.

"Oi, Bard." Speak of the Devil, Bard thought as he turned to face Alfrid. "You got a new job. The usual, give us the head and we'll give you the money." Alfrid handed him a piece of paper with a name written on it.

"This is a big one, so don't mess it up." Bard never messed up, but The Master and Alfrid were always threatening him to do good or they wouldn't pay him, or worse. The truth was: Bard scared them, he was too good; if he wanted, he could take them out and no one would know it was him.

Bard said nothing as he took the paper and walked outside. Only until after he left the city limits did he unfold it and read the name of his next target. Bard's heart clenched when he read the name. There, in sloppy handwriting, it said "Thranduil."

He wasn't very surprised, the rogue had been causing more and more problems as of late. But still, the wind cut into him as Bard stood there. He was paralyzed, but still tried to think of what he was going to do now. Oh how he hated knowing the target personally. He remembered how he had to carry poor Percy's head back to the Master. He had felt so guilty that he couldn't eat for two days.

He couldn't just not go after the target; the Master would ruin him if he did that. But, if the target could not be found… He thought, and with that, Bard set off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bard, with his mask on and hood up, approached a figure. He was tall and well built, but not overly so. The man caught sight of him and turned his head, causing his ponytail to whip to the side. Bard stopped once they were feet apart.

Now or never. "You must leave." Bard couldn't look the other man in the eye as he said this. Ignoring this, the rogue came and put his arms loosely around Bard's waist.

"I will not leave without you." The man said in his rich, deep voice.

"You don't understand, Thranduil." Bard hung his head and shut his eyes. "I… I've been sent for your head."

"Shhh," Thranduil held their foreheads together, "Bar your heart." A pale hand pulled down Bard's hood. "… And know… I will not leave you."

"Please." Bard took the mask off.

"You are my heart. Where you go, I go. I will give you my head, but I shall not part from your side!" Thranduil clenched his hand and held it to his heart. "Tell me," he asked as he stepped forward and cupped Bard's face, "how does one live without their heart?"

Bard looked into Thranduil's eyes and their heads gravitated towards each other until their lips met. Both men put everything they couldn't express with words into the kiss. When they broke from their embrace they kept their heads close and shared their breath.

"I love you." Bard said and Thranduil held on to his head.

"And I, you." Bard entwined their hands and held them between himself and his love.

"I promise to protect you. Always. Never will I let you be in harm's way. You're all I've got. Even the kids will leave me one day. You're the only constant in my life, and I plan to keep it that way for a long time."

"Oh, Bard." Thranduil whispered, his eyes blurring with unshed tears. "You are my life. I would sooner die a thousand deaths than leave you."

With that, they embraced once more and their problems seemed to melt away.