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The hem of your cloak is six inches deep in mud by the time you returned to the palace. Rain had been unexpected, and you hurried through the forest, stepping into puddles and mud splatters to reach home before the King decided to send out a search party. You were late, very late, but the rain had slowed your progress. As you entered the doors to the palace, you could see the chief of guards readying her mare, probably heading out to search for you. The moment she spotted you she came running, relief in her eyes.
“By Valar, we thought you lost! The King is in a disarray!” Tauriel said, taking off her own cloak and draping over you to warm you a little. You smiled sheepishly at her, teeth chattering as cold settled over you. Unlike the elves you did not deal with cold well.
“The forest is like a swamp. I would have stopped to wait out the rain but then it would have taken me till tomorrow to return. I am sorry I troubled you.” You said, walking in with her. The guards at the gate bowed you in, hurrying forward to relinquish you from your supplies.
“Nonsense, its no burden. But you must see the King at once. He is worried.” Tauriel replied and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. To call the King overprotective would be an understatement. He was prone to sending for the royal doctor if you received so much as a scratch. You silently made your way towards the throne room where you found him pacing, deep in thought. His head snapped up when he heard you enter, eyes widening slightly at seeing your dripping and muddy state and you knew he was checking for any signs of injury.
He rushed forward and grabbed you by the arms, carefully taking your chin and turning your face this way and that to ascertain there was nothing amiss. You let him go about it silently, knowing he needed to see for himself that you were unharmed. Tauriel had already excused herself, as had the guards in the throne room. Once his concern would fade, temper would easily come to replace it and neither wanted to be caught in the crossfire.
Thranduil studied your trembling form and roughly started to take off Tauriel’s cloak, which was also soaked by now, and then he unfastened your own cloak, shaking his head as he found your tunic dripping wet. His eyes flashed with anger before he dragged you to the nearest fireplace, calling loudly for some tea.
“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, his tone equal parts angry and worried. He pushed back your damp hair and sat beside you, rubbing your hands to transfer some of his own warmth into them.
“You needn’t be so worried. I told you I’ve gone to visit the elflings at the school again. They were running low on their supplies.” You said and heard him sniff in displeasure.
“Traveling alone in such weather! Anything could have happened.” He said, now annoyed. But he stopped at once to hand you the steaming mug of tea that a maid had just brought, taking one for himself too. A warmth spread through you on your first sip, and you sighed contently, your trembling slowing until it almost stopped. You should change out of your clothes soon.
“I am sorry. I did not know it would rain.” You said softly, and his eyes softened. You felt him shift closer until his side was flushed to yours and his arm came around you.
“I know.” He said, voice equally soft. Then he cleared his thought and looked away from you. “I would prefer that you stay inside the palace boundaries for some time now.”
Your head snapped to his, eyes narrowing at the way he avoided your gaze. You wiggled until he reluctantly let you out of his hold, licking his lips the way you knew he did when he was about to do something that he knew you wouldn’t like.
“Absolutely not.” You said sharply. “Those excursions outside are the way I keep myself sane. I shall go mad with nothing to do inside the kingdom.”
“There is enough to do inside.” Thranduil snapped back. “The kitchen, the library, the gardens, they are all available for your leisure.”
His temper was rising but so was yours. You put down your almost empty tea and fixed him with a glare. “I am useless in a kitchen! You know that. And I cannot spend all my time reading or walking in the gardens. I need myself some interaction.”
“Rubbish. You’re surrounded by people inside. Talk to whoever you like.” He said dismissively, standing up and going back towards his throne. You followed, your wet clothes forgotten as you struggled you catch up to his long strides.
“They won’t talk to me! They are too scared to offend me or even to offer friendly jests. I refuse!” You said, hands on your hips. He stopped mid step on way to his throne and slowly turned to face you again. You remembered just a moment too late that he didn’t handle cheek well, not even from you. Disobedience could be tolerated to an extent, but his patience had already been stretched too thin today to offer you much reprieve.
“You refuse?” He asked and his voice had dropped to a rumbling low. Your hands suddenly dropped from your hips and clasped in front of you, teeth biting into your bottom lip. He climbed down the stairs almost lazily, his icy eyes searing into you. You didn’t meet them. Stopping before you he titled your chin up with a finger, waiting for you to meet his gaze.
“I am sorry my lord.” You said, fluttering your lashes innocently. He titled his head to the side as he regarded you, the corner of his lips twitching.
“Are you, starlight?” He asked, now tracing the curve of your cheek.
“Yes. I really am. Very – very sorry.” You said, breath catching in your throat as he came very close to you. You fidgeted at the proximity of him, forcing yourself to not break his eye contact. He hummed softly before a cold smile appeared on his face.
“You feel lonely inside, don’t you?” He asked, now taking one of your hand and playing if your fingers. “You feel no one shall talk to you? Well, I have a solution. I will talk to you. From tomorrow, you shall spend your days with me. By my side.”
He pressed a kiss on your knuckles before retreating enough to allow you to breath freely, and a coldness swept over you. You couldn’t spend all your time with him!
“But – I think I’d rather the kitchens.” You said sullenly but he only chuckled in response.
“I don’t think so, no. I think Legolas shall be pleased too to learn that his wife is learning the welfare of the kingdom from his father. He’d like that, don’t you think so?” Thranduil asked, and for the first time this evening his tone was bitter. Your father-in-law had a complicated relationship with his son, which had extended to you too. But in a very different way.
“If Legolas knew the truth of your feelings for me, I don’t think he’d much appreciate us spending any time at all together.” You said, looking down in shame.
Thranduil remained silent, although his gaze on you was ever watchful. For the longest time during your courtship and marriage you had thought his coldness towards you was because you were a human, unworthy of his son. It was only later that you recognized his true nature. If anything, he wished to replace his son, to pledge himself to you. It had only become apparent even more once Legolas left for a quest, leaving you in the care of his father.
You had what most would call a close relationship. The kingdom rejoiced to see their King caring for you the way he did. They called him a great father for looking after his daughter-in-law, as if she were his own daughter. But you could feel it in the way he touched you, the way he worried for you. There was nothing pure in his feelings for you.
“You think Legolas could do anything if he found out?” Thranduil asked and you looked at him in alarm. “I am his father and his King. He can do nothing more than rage.”
He stepped forward again and you took a step back. There was a look in his eyes you did not like. It was not often he allowed himself to sway in his emotion for you, trying his best to maintain the fragile propriety that came with your relation to each other. But sometimes, like now, he couldn’t see you as anything more than a woman. A woman he desired but was denied.
“I am his wife.” You said, trying to keep your voice firm. “I am your daughter in law. Please my lord.”
He snorted, his silvery hair swishing as his head shook in derision. “His wife. A wife he hasn’t seen to in nearly a year. A wife who waits for him almost a virgin. Tell me, starlight, does your bed not feel empty at night?”
You could hear the steel in his words, the mockery for your marriage and your hands clenched into fists. Not because of anger but the bitter truth in his words. Legolas had been gone a long time, his last letter to you was nearly four months ago. He had spent too many nights away from you and far too little in your bed, and your need for him gnawed at you so deeply at times it kept you up at night.
“I love him.” You said softly, as if that was enough. It should be enough. But sometimes it wasn’t, not when Thranduil looked at you with that look in his eyes like he wished you devour you and fulfil all your dreams at once. So far you had kept him at bay, and though his touches lingered they still bordered on innocent, on platonic. You feared it wouldn’t be so for much longer.
“Love is only the beginning of a relationship my starlight. You cannot sustain your life on love.” Thranduil said just as softly. “You need more than that to keep your relations alive. Commitment, time, loyalty.”
“And I suppose you think you can give me that?” You asked snappishly, hating him for putting you in this position.
“I know I can.” He promised, leaning down to give you a wicked smile. “If you had caught my eye before his, you would be the Queen of the Woodlands, have no doubt about it.”
“I am the Princess, and that is enough for me.” You said. “Legolas is enough for me.”
Before he could say more, you dipped into a small curtesy and took your leave. If he wanted to, he could stop you, but you knew he wouldn’t. It was a testament to his own loyalty to his son that was keeping him away from you. Legolas had asked him to look after you, to let no harm come to you while he was away. His father took that promise seriously, and while he slipped sometimes, he protected you. Even from himself.
----
You had taken to avoiding the King as much as you could. He was serious about keeping you within the palace but had given you enough liberty to travel to the nearest towns as long as you came before dark and travelled with an escort. You didn’t appreciate the extra guard much, but anything was better than staying with him. Meals were especially difficult, for you still ate together, his fingers brushing yours deliberately as you poured his wine, his legs brushing against yours under the table.
Every morning he would send a messenger to your rooms, asking you to accompany him during his day. You had been steadfastly ignoring it, for it was not quite an order. He asked you, and you refused. You couldn’t spend all day in his company, for that would be unbearable. However, it took only one incident a few weeks later to change all that.
There were only two orcs, but enough to cause to panic to the town’s folk. Your sword that your husband had gifted you was forever at your side, and you hadn’t wasted a second jumping into the chaos, into sliding the blade across the throat of the filth that had infiltrated your kingdom. Your guards were too slow to react and join, and though you had killed them both, you couldn’t help but sustain a gash in your thigh. You were carried home bleeding, and it was fear that had your guards trembling for they knew the King’s temper would be terrible indeed.
Thranduil however had no time to spare them even a look. He was beside you while the doctor treated your wound, which to both your relief was not very deep. His hand was in yours, gently shushing you as you flinched at the ointment applied to keep the wound free of infection. Later, you would hear from your maid how the King had nearly executed the guards for their oversight. But that was the last you were allowed away from his sight.
Overnight, his chambers became your new domain. He unashamedly carried you to his bed, disregarding the astonished and disapproving looks of his staff. They would know better than to start rumours, for the King was most unforgiving where you were concerned. If your character was slighted, everyone involved would be facing the dungeon cells.
You had cried and begged him to let you go, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. Fear for you had driven him desperate. But he allowed you distance. He didn’t crowd you in bed at night, didn’t force any touch on you that he knew you wouldn’t want. But he was forever by your side. You followed him to his council meetings, sat sullenly while he spoke to his advisors and arranged trades and gave orders to his guard. You were to be his shadow.
“This is ridiculous. People will talk.” You said to him, laying on what was now your side of the bed. It was a huge bed, and yet you remained staunchly in your corner to give him a wide berth. “I am your son’s wife!”
“Then let them talk! I will not allow any more harm to come your way.” He said furiously. “I cannot trust anyone else with you. Feel free to leave these chambers once my son comes back and remembers he pledged to protect you.”
“And what do you plan to tell him?” You asked, turning your face away as he disrobed in front of you without any shame. “What will you tell him happened with us together in one chamber, eh? I don’t believe he will be enthused.”
“He will believe the truth I tell him. That I kept you safe.” Thranduil said, climbing into his side of the bed. His chest was bare, almost gleaming in the moonlight that streamed inside. “We haven’t done anything untoward.”
“We share a bed!” You yelled almost desperately, tears stinging your eyes. “You will have me lose my husband, and you shall lose your son. Do you not see that?”
His head turned to you, and you knew he struggled to not close the distance between you. You had felt his gaze on you at all times, thinking you were asleep. No, you didn’t believe Legolas would see any truth in his words, for Thranduil’s gaze shall give away all his feelings.
“You fear he would reject you?” He asked, and you scoffed.
“He would leave me, and I wouldn’t blame him. What woman lays with her husband’s father my lord?” You said bitterly.
Thranduil turned to his side and looked at you from under his pale lashes. You tried not to let your eyes drop towards his bare chest, to not follow the golden hair that travelled down into his pants through his navel.
“I would claim you as mine then. If he leaves you.” He said almost breathlessly, and for a moment you were sure that he wanted you to be forsaken so he could do just that.
“You are vile.” You said with tears in your eyes. He did not deny that.
----
It took you time to settle into your new duties. You didn’t sit quietly in his courtly meetings anymore, rather, making suggestions and interacting with the other advisors. Those who came from human settlements found their confidence in you, and you became a mediator between them and the elves. Thranduil would heed your advice with care, often guiding you where you went wrong. You knew you were almost a queen at that point, and so did the people around you.
Months later in his chamber he made his move. He crawled to your side and sat before you, handing you a comb and hair ties. “Braid my hair.”
You knew what it meant, what he asked for. But you were too tired to resist, too tired to keep him at bay. Your fingers went at work gently, brushing his hair that was soft as silk and braiding them the best you could. You had done this before only for your husband, a husband who very much seemed to have forgotten you existed. That made it easier to do what you did. You could pretend he did not exist.
Thranduil asked you if you would like your hair done, but you refused. That night was the first night he pulled you into his arms, your head on his chest. His breath was warm against your temple, nose nudging against your skin and inhaling your scent. You did not stop his wandering hands, though he had to pry your stiff ones apart and put them around his neck himself.
It was another few weeks later that he took you. You had seen it coming a mile away, the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his fingers curved over your jaw to press kisses that promised much more. He allowed you enough time to pull away, but you did not have the strength to deny him anything anymore. He was not your husband, but he was the only husband you had ever known for nearly two years.
He was gentle with you, at first. He bathed you in his tongue in an act of worship, whispering such words of love and comfort that you were in tears even before his length had breached you. Your nails had dug into his back, thighs pressing into his hips to keep him close. Your mouths had met in bruising kisses, lips swollen in evidence of your ardour. When you came, he let out a groan as if finally free to pursue his own pleasure.
All gentleness seemed to evaporate from him as he took on a pace that was punishing. He was punishing you for denying him for so long, for keeping from him what he desired more than anything else, and also you knew for tempting him into such a sin. You were his son’s wife, but he took you like you were his. The marks on your body proclaimed as much.
“Do you know what I would do to keep you with me like this, forever?” He asked one night as you lay panting beside him. His hair was tickling your arm and you shifted closer to his warmth, pressing your mouth against his shoulder until he wrapped an arm around you.
“Do not say you shall kill your own son. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.” You said, and his eyes flashed.
“So, you love him still?” He asked jealously, his touch possessive.
“I shall always love him.” You said, and his eyes narrowed further as if in betrayal. “Do not look at me so. I am bound to him. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. In fact, I fear it might be more.”
He rolled over you so you could look nowhere but at him, the marks of your love still visible on his neck. “If he shall return, you plan to leave my bed?”
It was not a fair question, even he knew that. How were you to chose what to do? You tried not to dwell on it, on the return of your husband. It was true you loved Legolas still. He was your first love, and he was a good husband to you for all the time you stayed together. But Thranduil…he was something else. The Elvenking seemed to possess your very soul. You did not think you could leave him either.
“I shall leave it to his wisdom. Whatever he shall decide.” You said finally.
“And should he choose to keep you for himself?” Thranduil asked, his voice coming out as a growl. “It is his right is it not to have you? Would you go willingly to him, forget me?”
You closed your eyes and buried your face in his neck, inhaling deep. His fingers found their way in your hair, scratching your scalp. “I do not know my lord. I only know that I love you and I love him, and I am at both your mercy. Do not torment me with a choice I would rather die than make.”
He clutched you in his arms as if afraid you were to be ripped from him. You knew a time will come when the prince shall return and shall demand for you. At that moment you would be a bystander as father and son face each other for you. You couldn’t think of that anymore, not while you lay satisfied in his arms for now.
“Make me yours while we have time.” You asked of him. “For now, it is us and I am happy. For now, I am only yours. Isn’t that enough?”
He didn’t answer. Rather, he pushed his knee between your legs and set out to claim you once more the best way he knew how. The people would talk, his son would be furious. It would probably be a battle more ferocious and heartbreaking than any he had fought. But for now, you were his, and in that moment, that was enough. The future could wait.