Marital Bliss
This is part of my Drabble Game and is written for the amazing @fading-ruins
Prompts: “In our entire relationship, have you ever told me the truth?” and “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
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Imagine
You nearly growled at your husband as you sat just to the side of him. His hand had already crumpled the parchment though he had barely looked at it and you were want to rip it out and force him to read it closer. Instead you bit your tongue and listened as his deep voice carried through the air, though it did nothing to calm your ire.
“It is completely out of question,” He dropped the paper and swept the air with his fingers, “Let’s not waste valuable council time on--”
“My brother?” You challenged suddenly, your voice surprised even you, not only for interjecting but for its obvious anger.
“Brother or no,” Thranduil’s voice remained even and unchanged as he looked to you, “We cannot do anything for him.”
“You mean, you will not,” You straightened in your chair and turned your shoulders to face him, “What is wrong with you? The orcs--”
“Are not my problem, nor Mirkwood’s,” He said without emotion, “Perhaps he should send his pleas to his dwarven allies instead.”
“Oh, not this again,” You grumbled and leaned on the arm of your chair, “You would forsake my own kin, yours by marriage, because of a petty grudge. One, mind you, that you haven’t any right in holding.” You could not control the words as they tumbled out in your wrath, “What did the dwarves ever do but retake what they had been robbed of. Would you not have fought to reclaim your kingdom in the same--”
“Enough,” He warned but his tone had barely changed, “You speak of things you do not understand.”
“I know loyalty,” You retorted with exasperation, “Something which in all your years you’ve not seemed to learn.”
“I mean it, [Y/N],” Your husband’s eyes flashed though he had kept better control over his voice than you, “This is not the time nor the place.”
“This is a council matter, one which may cross the border of personal, but I think it the very time and place,” You arched a brow and leaned forward unwavering, “But I will afford you your dignity,” You turned and looked the silent and stunned councilors, “If you would remove yourselves from the council chambers, we will wait until the morrow to conclude our session.”
“That is not for you to determine, [Y/N],” Thranduil’s voice was sharp and brought your eyes back to his.
“Well, if you so wish for your men to hear what I am inclined to say to you, then they may stay,” You shrugged and a dark grin broke across your lips.
“…” He inhaled deeply and his eyes narrowed before he spoke, the room tense, “Leave.” The one word had the councilors scraping their chairs and scurrying for the door.
“Husband,” You said sweetly as the door closed and the two of you were left alone, “You cannot let my brother and his men be slain by orcs.”
“I am not doing anything,” He countered, “Should he find himself in harm’s way, it is not of my doing.”
“Are you so selfish that you would sit by and wait for another parchment bearing news of his death?!” Your voice was rising against your will, “For I promise, should that day come, I will be gone in a moment.”
He stayed silent. His eyes betrayed his irritation but he made no effort to argue. You suspected that he did not have a logical one to make.
“In our entire relationship, have you ever told me the truth?” You asked, breaking the silence as you stood and turned away from him, “You told me that you loved me the day we wed and that you would do anything for me, and yet here you sit refusing to give my brother his life.”
“[Y/N],” He said weakly and you heard him rise, “I am making a political decision,” His voice was soft yet false. You knew it was more than that. Since he had heard of your brother aiding in the restoration of Erebor, he had despised him and rarely responded to any word from him.
“You are make an emotional decision,” You corrected him and turned back with your hands on your hips, “I don’t even know who you are anymore…And should you carry on so heartlessly, I should treat you as the stranger you’ve become.”
“You shrewish woman,” He spat as he neared, “You cannot understand—You cannot keep…”
“You’re a bastard!” You interjected before he could continue, “Don’t you dare treat me like an imbecile and a crone. You just cannot stand that another would go against your wishes.”
“I cannot stand to hear you pester me so,” He stopped before you, staring down at you darkly, “You may be a queen but I am the king.”
“So you would have us believe,” Your voice was low and menacing, “Though you do not act the role very well.”
“You!” His voice caught and you found yourself being forced backwards, his hands upon your shoulders, “What would you have me do then? Send my men to die at your brother’s side?”
“I would have you try,” You realized that beneath his wrath he was starting to think, “Please. He is my only brother. I love him.” You could feel tears rising in your throat, “And I love you. I don’t want to choose between the two of you.”
“[Y/N] …” His voice was quiet and you could feel his breath upon your flesh as he leaned in, “For you. I will do anything. I meant what I said the day we married. Then and now.”
“You mean it, truly?” You breathed in relief.
“Of course,” He assured you and his hand came up to cradle your cheek, “Though I cannot let you speak to me so without teaching you a lesson.”
“Oh yeah?” You smiled up at him in a kittenish manner, “Do teach me.”
“Sometimes,” He began as his lips softened and his fingers twined in your hair, tugging the tresses as he brushed them down your shoulder, “I think you argue you only for the making up.”
“You knew my tongue well when we wed,” You purred mischievously and reached up to run your hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer, “In more ways than one.”
“Yes, the coy side does atone for the sharp side,” His aquiline nose brushed your as he breathed in your scent.
“A queen must know her king well so she may rein him in,” You laughed softly and raised your lips to his, keeping him from further response.
His arms wrapped around you, snaking down your waist until he gripped your rear and lifted you. He pushed you against the wall, your legs around his waist as your skirts crumpled around your thighs. You pressed deeper into his kiss, pulling away to lay hungry nibble along his jaw neck. Already he was moaning and you could feel the heat of lust melding your bodies together.
He was right, you thought as he plied his mouth to your throat, making up was the best part of fighting. It was the best of everything.
