Chapter Text
“Congratulations!” you open arms to your sister, hugging her close. “Onónë, you look beautiful!” Your sister blushes and you release her to embrace your new brother. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around your sister’s waist. He smiles down at her with such love and affection that you are reminded of the ruins your own marriage currently lies in. The two newlyweds don’t notice your smile falter. “We’re glad you could make it. You arrived so late that we thought you weren’t coming.”
“Nonsense! I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” You insist.
“It’s a shame Thranduil couldn’t be here.” You sister lays her hand on your forearm in a comforting manner.
“The politics of the realm keep him occupied. He sends his blessings.”
As your sister and her husband move on to speak with other guests, you seek an exit from the marriage hall. All this love and affection was making your heart ache. It has been four days since you’ve seen or spoken to Thranduil. The last words you said to him still echo in your mind.
Stay away from me!
He seems to have taken your words to heart. You were able to leave the forest and make your way here without any sight of him or one of the woodland guards. Had Thranduil wished it, you wouldn’t have made it out of the halls.
You had arrived here with a story of never-ending politics and a husband that dare not leave his kingdom to struggle, but had insisted that you still attend the wedding. At the end of the week, when you were supposed to return home, the truth of events might just reveal themselves.
How were you to return to a husband that held you against your will? How were you supposed to return to a husband that you had caused so much bodily harm to? Not only had you stuck his face, but you’d struck his shoulder, elbowed him and pushed him. He had every right to bar you entrance from the kingdom.
To learn of your fate you would have to return to Mirkwood, but that could cause trouble itself. No, you would have to speak with your parents at the end of the week and explain everything to them.
You find your way onto the balcony as the music starts playing behind you. Below you the lights of the birthplace sprawl across the valley, mimicking the stars in the sky above them. There is a yearning in your heart, but it is not for this place. In only ten short years Thranduil and the woodland realm has become your home, and the rift between you and your husband hurts.
It might not hurt so much if this was a birthday celebration, not a wedding. Yet a wedding it is and the music, laughter and love remind you of your own wedding not so long ago. How could things have gotten so bad in such a short space of time?
“Anel, what troubles you?” your mother stands behind you on the balcony, and you wonder if she’s part of the reason that your marriage to Thranduil is already rocky. She’s always been in charge of the relationship between her and your father, with your father putting up very little protest. You tried to adopt her attitudes in your own marriage and look where that has gotten you.
“Nothing, amal.” You’re lying and she knows it. With a gentle smile your mother moves to stand by your side, linking your arm through hers.
“Last I saw you with that expression on your face, you were nursing ‘unrequited’ love for an elf prince.” Your mother fixes you with a stern look. “I was led to believe that love was requited, as you married him ten years ago.”
Your lips draw together in a thin, pained line. “I thought it was requited too, amal.”
Your mother tugs on your arm, drawing you over to a bench. “Tell me what your husband done?”
With a sigh you tell your mother how he has been over worked, exhausted and stressed for the last few months, how he did not wish for you to come to the wedding and how his anger resulted in a physical fight, and how that fight might very well have ended up with you exiled.
Your mother listens to you in silence, nodding occasionally. When you’ve finished speaking she sits in silence for a moment. “Thranduil love you, never doubt that. He will justify your actions and welcome you back with open arms when you return.” She rises to her feet, pulling her with you. “Today is a day for celebration. Get some wine in you and go dance with your new brother.”
X
By the time you are ready to leave three days later, your heart is so heavy in your chest you think you are starting to stoop. Your mother hasn’t approached you on the subject of your husband again, and you don’t desire to bring it up.
Your sister and her husbands are waiting by the gates to see you off, your parents having seen you in the library earlier. “Safe travels.” Your sister smiles, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I hope that next time we meet you have been blessed with an elfling.”
“I hope so too, sister.” You turn to her husband and smile. “Treat her well, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“She is the greatest treasure in my world.” He assures you. “I would die before I see her hurt.”
You force a smile, though it is almost painful to do. You bid them farewell before mounting your horse and departing.
The weather is pleasant and your horse is strong. As long as there are no delays you should be at the borders of the forest by nightfall. You aren’t overly keen to return, but you want the confrontation out of the way as soon as possible. The longer you are away the larger the rift between you will grow, until it is a chasm that cannot be breached.
The thought of losing the possibility to reconcile with Thranduil makes you ride though the day, pushing your mount as far as it will go. By the time you reach the edges of the forest before sundown, it is as tired as your heart.
You dismount and unsaddle the horse, finding water and allowing it to graze. You decide to rest here tonight and push through the woods in the morning.
However you’ve barely been there for half an hour before the trees rustle and shake unnaturally. There is something moving through the flora. You shrink back against your horse, urging it to be quiet as you unsheathe your sword.
The night falls silent then the sound comes again, closer than before. There are voices this time, though the words are too quiet for you to hear. The rustling grows louder until four elves spill out of the woods. You blink in surprise and hastily sheathe your sword. They look more surprised than you do.
“Hiril vuin!” the leader of the small party exclaims, dropping into a deep bow. His companions mimic him. “We have been looking for you!”
“I have been at a wedding.” You reply, stepping away from the horse. “I did inform the king as to where I would be.”
“Of course, hiril vuin, but he expected you back a day ago.” The elf steps forwards. “Might you come with us back to the halls?”
You nod, beckoning to two of the elves. “Will you see to the horse? She has had a long journey and is quite tired.”
The two elves nod, one stepping forwards to lead the horse and the other gathering up the saddle and the bags.
The four elves lead you and the horse back through the forest. It is a long walk made longer by the faded light and winding trails. You reach the gate just before the moon reaches the highest point in the sky.
“Láta andondin!” one of the elves calls out and the gates swing open.
You take a firm breath before stepping inside the halls, wondering for a moment if Thranduil will be there, ready to send you out again. He is not.
The halls are empty besides the gate keepers.
“Take my horse and see that it is cared for.” You command the elves before taking your leave.
You doubt Thranduil’s work ethic has dwindled in the last week, and he will most likely be in his study. You are tired and want nothing more than to curl up in bed, but you daren’t do such a thing until you have spoken to the king.
Sure enough there is light seeping out from under the door of his study. You steel yourself before knocking, pushing all hopes from you head.
Upon the king’s call to enter you push the door open and step inside. He looks up only once the door is closed, and surprise washes over his face as horror washes over yours.
Thranduil looks sick. His skin has a grey hue, his eyes dull and ringed in dark circles. His hair looks fragile and messy, as though it hasn’t been brushed nor washed since you left.
“Thranduil!” you step towards him with wide eyes, stopping just short of the desk. Beyond his surprise he has shown no emotion, welcoming or otherwise. “Thranduil?” you question gently, fear gripping your heavy heart.
“You came back.” He sounds broken. “I thought… I didn’t think…”
You hurry round the table and drop to your knees at his side. “Of course I came back.” You take his hands in yours, worrying about how cold they are.
“What I said to you.” Thranduil shudders. “You have no reason to come back here.”
“You’re here.” You smile sadly, pressing a kiss to a cold knuckle. “Oh, my love, I am sorry.”
“Sorry?” Thranduil echoes. “What are you sorry for?”
“I struck you. I pushed you away. I hurt you.” You stand, cupping his face and pressing your forehead against his.
“It was justified.” One of Thranduil’s cold hands lifts to yours, pressing it harder against your face. His other hand rubs lightly against the wrist he held too tightly. “Ninya calwa indis, it is I who must ask for your forgiveness. I spoke to you harshly, denied you the only thing you asked me.”
“Oh, Thranduil, of course I forgive you.” You smile. Taking a little step back as he stands.
Thranduil pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you onto your toes with the force of it. He presses his lips gently to yours before kissing your cheek and burying his face in your hair.