Chapter Text
Yeyette had never wanted to be married. Long ago when she was still an elfling, she had told her father so and he had promised her she would never need do anything against her desires. Now he was gone and she was left with little choice. She was to be wed to an elven prince and her father’s vow was to fade along with the memories of him.
She swayed with the rocking of the carriage, starring at the diamond cloak pin which rested at her mother’s throat. She would look into her eyes but Yeyette could no longer stomach the pity and helplessness which shadowed her mother’s green irises. It was not the dowager queen’s fault that she was to marry, nor was it the dead king’s, or even her brother, the new king. The winter had taken too much from the Frost Meadows and the kingdom would not recover without aid. If her hand could buy the lives of her people, Princess Yeyette of the Niqeth would wed a troll, even an orc.
She turned to glance out the window, pulling back the sheer curtain with one finger. The wedding would be tomorrow. The very day she would see her betrothed for the first time. She had heard he was handsome, though he would be. Mirkwood elves were known for their natural beauty and she had grown up with legends of King Thranduil’s elegance. Said to be as hardened and sparkling as the diamond clasped at her mother’s throat.
She dropped the curtain with a muted sigh and sat back against the hard wood of the carriage seat. She did not care if he was handsome. She did not want any husband, be him grotesque or otherwise. She reached for her belt out of habit but did not find the pommel of her gilt sword, only the heavy silk of her skirts.
“Daughter, I know this is difficult,” Yeyette’s mother spoke for the first time in more than an hour, “But it will not be so bad. I had thought I would die when I was told I would marry your father. Would that I could go back to our wedding day now.”
“I know, Mother,” The princess pulled her sleeves over her fingers as the anxiety nipped at her ears, “It was my choice, though. I would not change it now or then, if I could. It’s for the good of the Niqeth.”
“Oh, Yeyette,” Queen Thea sounded close to tears. “You cannot build a marriage on such reasoning. It will only grow into resent. When you meet the prince on the morrow, try to find some good in him. If he is honest, learn to love that. If he is kind, cherish his generosity.” She leaned forward and took her daughter’s hands in hers, “Give him a chance and it may not be a terrible as you have made it in your mind.”
“I know, Mother,” Yeyette tried not to sulk but with every turn of the wheels, she felt another step towards the gallows. She was being selfish and stubborn. Her sister had gone away years ago to marry a noble of Rivendell. He had proven a fine man and she had found happiness and all without a single word of complaint.
“Your father did mean it, though,” Her mother’s voice was sad and her eyes watery. It was near impossible for the queen to speak of her beloved husband without tearing up. It always made it so much harder for Yeyette to hold herself together. “He had never wanted you to marry, either. You were his little warrior and he had always said you were far too rebellious to be any elf’s wife.”
“He is not the one breaking the promise,” Yeyette looked to the burgundy silk of her lap, “And he would not be so unhappy. Not if it saves the Frost Meadows.”
“I dare say he loved you more than his kingdom, dear,” Thea pulled away to wipe away the welling in her eyes, “The winter has taken so much…our crops, our livestock, our king.”
“Mother, do not weep, please,” The princess pleaded as she took her mother’s hands back, “Please, there will be enough tears in the days to come.”
“There will,” She agreed and squeezed her daughter’s hands before releasing them once more and looked to the sheer curtains, “We are almost there. It has been years since I have travelled to Mirkwood. The last time I visited, the queen had still been living and the prince…he is only a few years younger than you, dear.”
“Yes, you have told me,” Yeyette leaned back and closed her eyes, “I am sure I will find your words to be true upon the morrow when I lay eyes upon the golden prince of the forest.”
Queen Thea sent one last look of pity to her daughter and remained silent, knowing it was better to let her daughter brood. She was like her father that way. King Bernard was a man who had been often lost in his own thoughts, though he was well-spoken and a finer king than many before him. He had been an even better father, as well. Much better than Thea was a mother.
The wheels spun noisily, throwing up pebbles and twigs as the carriage ground along the forest trail. The trees stood thick around them, giants beneath the setting sun, branches stretching towards the sky like a babe reaching for their mother. The trunk grew further apart and the dimming light of the evening broke through the leaves as the great palace of Mirkwood came into sight.
The carriage crossed the mossy bridge which curved over a gorge and passed under archways of oak and lichen. The wheels rolled easier along the beaten dirt until the driver finally pulled the horses to a stop before the large double doors of the palace. Tendrils of ivy crawled up the crystal and oaken doors and the castle merged with the land. The difference between what was natural and elven-made was near indefinable.
The driver tapped on the roof of the carriage and the weight shifted as he climbed down from his seat. Yeyette opened her eyes and sat straight as the small door was opened and the steps pulled down to land in a cloud of dust against the ground. Her mother urged her down first, following her with a grumble about her aging joints.
The princess stood straight, gladdened to be free to stretch her legs while her mother waited regally by her side. The luggage carts which had followed pulled up shortly after, lingering further back, as Queen Thea began to frown. She looked up at the doors and then to her daughter, her hands going to her hips with disapproval.
“Where in the world is our host?” Thea furrowed her brow, her graceful features looking as ugly as they ever could. Her green eyes and honey-coloured hair made it difficult for her to ever appear anything but astonishing. Even as she aged, the grey had yet to appear in her locks and only the shallowest of wrinkles could be traced along her pale skin.
“What’s another hour of waiting?” Yeyette kicked her toe as she gave her sardonic reply, “If this is an omen of my marriage, I should be worried indeed.”
“Oh, daughter,” Her mother laughed at her dark jest. It was a quip characteristic of the old king and it returned Yeyette’s thoughts back to her beloved father, “You do have a terrible humour.”
Before the princess could reply with another sharp remark, the tall doors which rested at the top of the carved steps lurched and began to recede inward. The doors creaked to a stop on their great hinges and attendants streamed out in livery of silver and pale blue. Princess Yeyette and Queen Thea turned and stood straight as they watched the train of elves descend around them.
A horn was sounded and a tall figure appeared at the doors. Yeyette knew in an instant who the lone elf was as he stood sternly at the top of the stairs. His silver eyes flashed as they settled on the visiting queen and her daughter, his pale hair unmoving despite the evening breeze. His robe was a deeper silver than the attendants, lined with red satin, and his head was crowned with metal flames of silver and gold.
King Thranduil was even more magnificent than the tales foretold and Yeyette no longer felt like a princess. He began down the steps deliberately, taking his time in descending. His face betrayed no emotion or hint of his thoughts. His porcelain skin appeared to glow even in the setting light and his lithe movements made it look as though he were floating.
“Queen Thea of the Frost Meadows,” He reached the bottom of the steps and neared the Niqeth visitors, “I am pleased to welcome you to Mirkwood at last.” He took the queen’s proffered hand and kissed it lightly before looking to the princess, “And this must be your daughter, Princess Yeyette.”
As he neared and raised Yeyette’s hand, she watched him carefully, unable to look anywhere else. He lifted her hand to his mouth, his eyes remaining on hers and she could not tell if it were content or disappointment she saw behind his flawless features. He rescinded her hand as he straightened and bowed to them both with a courtly smile.
“If you would,” He stepped back and waited for his visitors to approach the steps, “My servants have set out a meal for us and we shall discuss the coming nuptials while we dine.”
“Thank you, King Thranduil,” Thea took the lead, nudging her daughter into motion as she climbed the steps, “We are very grateful for your kindness.”
Yeyette walked beside her mother up the carved stairs, her heart sinking as she climbed higher. An attendant led them inside and the Mirkwood king followed behind silently as they were taken along the winding bridges of the interior. The wooden walkways nearly made Yeyette sick and she feared she would trip and fall over the side at any moment.
Finally, they were halted before a set of rounded doors with elvish runes set into the façade. The attendant pushed them open and the three elvish royals entered without a word. A large round table painted with images of vines and prancing deer stood center, covered with platters of roasted vegetables, colourful salads, and fragrant berries. A crystal bottle of golden wine sat beside an urn of clear water and golden dishes were set before each chair.
“My ladies,” Thranduil brushed by Yeyette and Thea, the attendant pulling out a chair as the king passed him. “Please, you must be hungry from the road.”
The queen took the first seat and Yeyette, never one to wait for courtly etiquette, pulled out her own chair and sat impatiently. Thranduil was the last to lower himself, abiding by custom, and he offered his guests a goblet of the pale wine. Yeyette was too nervous for alcohol and poured herself water instead while Thea gladly accepted the king’s offer.
“It has been quite a time since I last saw Mirkwood,” The queen began, sipping from her goblet between words, “But it is a splendid as I remember. Does this realm ever find itself touched by the vicious winter or is it the land of summer?”
“We have snows but nothing so heavy as the Meadows,” Thranduil answered, swirling the wine in his glass though he did not drink from it, “I have always admired the Niqeth for their resilience. I have never favoured the cold.”
“As you may have heard, this past winter was especially hard,” Thea spoke in her queenly way, in that voice which never cracked. “The winter plague and endless snows. Even now we still have the occasional storm and it seems there will not be a harvest this year.”
“I have heard,” Thranduil assured as he set down his glass, “Something which I am glad to help with now that our alliance is to be secured. You will return to your people with all that is required until your crops return and the snows recede.”
“And we thank you,” Thea drank again, this time more deeply before she looked to her daughter, “Our children should be very happy together, won’t they? Though I have not heard much of your son.”
“Legolas,” Thranduil’s eyes followed the queen’s to Yeyette who listened silently, keeping her face blank, “He is a gentle elf. Brave and well-mannered. A great fighter and one day a greater king. He is honourable and I should hope and expect he will treat your daughter kindly.”
“As you did the dwarves,” Yeyette said sharply, though her voice was not so venomous as it could be, “We have heard of how Mirkwood treats those in need. Even in the desolate Meadows.”
“Do you not desire this marriage?” The king asked plainly as his hand rested lightly on the table before him, “For I am certain I could find another princess for my son.”
“She did not mean it like that,” Thea assured Thranduil and sent a pointed look to her daughter, “Yeyette can be blunt with her words, I know, but she will come to love your son. I know it. You know how these affairs are. Such marriages are always difficult at first.”
“My apologies,” The princess reminded herself that she had been given a choice and she had offered herself for the kingdom, “I am tired and I forget myself.”
“I understand, Princess, the journey is not an easy one,” His silver eyes cleared and it was as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. He was taking her in, judging her.
What did he see with his sharp eyes? Did he think her not so comely as her mother? She had no inherited her looks from the queen but rather took closely after her father. She had her father golden eyes rather than her mother’s vibrant jade and her hair was dark and horribly curly while her mother’s was the colour of honey and spun of pure silk. Yeyette had not even inherited those traits typical to most elves. She was shorter than most and rather than a graceful litheness, she was wiry with muscle and her movements more deliberate than elegant.
“Oh dear me, I seem to have forgotten myself,” Thea spoke up before silence could enclose the table, “My son, the king, Ciaran, he sends his regards. Of course, he sent with us the final agreement. It has been marked with Niqeth arms and signed. The terms are as you requested.”
“Then I should think our alliance will be set in stone on the morrow,” The king retrieved his glass from the table top as he reclined in his chair, “But let us eat and put aside politics for the moment.” He sipped at his wine for the first time and Yeyette took her own glass in hand. She was glad she had opted for water otherwise her stomach would be even stormier than it already was.