For A Thousand Years || Eleteo
Elena thought it was funny that she was the literal princess in this relationship, and yet Mateo seemed more like he was living in a fairytale. Did Elena want to marry Mateo? Absolutely yes. Did she want to have children with him? Obviously yes. But the latter was already happening well before she wanted it to and the former…
A part of Elena was already at peace with her eventual wedding not being like it was ‘supposed’ to be. Elena logically knew that she wouldn’t get married in the cute little church in the mountains of Avalor that her parents were married in because she knew that the mountain provinces would probably be the last to recover from the effects of the civil war. Assuming the church still stood, the logistics of a royal wedding there would be a nightmare post-war.
She knew that eventually she would marry Mateo before she ideally wanted to. Still, Elena clung to that last semblance of control she felt she had over her life. She couldn’t control having to leave Avalor; and while she should have been more careful, she didn’t properly use birth control and ended up pregnant long before she wanted to be.
What she did have control over? Her marital status.
Elena did not want to marry Mateo because it was the ‘right’ thing to do. She did not want to marry him because he was trying to prove to her and to himself that he wasn’t going to leave like his own father did. Elena, frankly, would get married when she wanted to and not a moment sooner.
And Elena did not want to get married right now.
Sure, an engagement ring on her finger would quiet Mateo on the marriage topic for a while, but sooner or later he’d start pressing her to set a date. She didn’t want a ring until she was ready to talk details. Details of a wedding were the furthest thing from her mind right now.
“Mateo, I-” she began, licking her bottom lip as she searched for the words. “Can we please revisit this after I have the babies?”
She sighed and ran her free hand through her hair. “I want to marry you. I do. But I’m not going to rush to the courthouse just because its what we should do. I want…I need more control than that.”
“It’s all I have left, really. As far as what’s up to me about my own life. Please, ask me again when I’m not as big as a whale, and when we have an idea of what we’re doing with these two.”
“I want to get married when we want to get married. Every other choice was made for us. For me.”
The furrow between Mateo’s eyebrows grew deeper and deeper the longer Elena spoke. She was talking an awful lot about her and very little about them. Of course, Mateo’s entire being tended to default to Elena’s wants and needs, and he preferred it that way. Usually.
But this felt different. She was clinging to an old argument that became increasingly more invalid each day they spent living in Swynlake with no end in sight. Then there was the face that she refused to consider his perspective and that did not set well with him.
“This isn’t about control, Elena,” he said cooly, shaking his head, pulling his hands back and folding them in his lap to keep from fidgeting. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were implying that I am trying to control you.”
She said to ask again later, and perhaps he should just drop it, but he felt as if he was being brushed off and what he wanted wasn’t important to her, and that stung.
“If you want to marry me as you keep on saying you do, then I don’t understand the hesitation. We are stuck thousands of miles from home with no hope in sight of going back anytime soon. We are here, living together, sharing a bed, and committed to one another. We’re in love and we’re expecting twins in less than a month and I think we deserve to settle down and be happy together for as long as we have here.”
He let out a huge sigh. “I don’t understand the point in waiting, unless—” he swallowed hard, letting his words die in his throat as he shook his head wordlessly. Putting words in her mouth was not going to help anyone.
“It’s just—I love you, Elena, and I want to be your husband. We can set a date for after the twins arrive, just—please. Please, don’t brush me off like this.”