Author's Note: Greetings all! Here we have the fallout and repercussions of the kidnapping and courtly plotting. Content warnings include some physical violence & threats toward the end.
Chapter 29A few of the sailor lads had stayed behind on the yacht to return it to the harbormaster at the proper inlet and it was the privateer ship the Sea Bitch that returned to the capitol city with the King and Queen and the Commodore and his wife safely aboard.
When the ship was docked and the royal couple ushered down, the assembled citizens went wild. Word had spread quickly that the queen and her friend had been kidnapped, the king rushing to save her with the commodore at his side. It was all the city could speak of for days. Queen Laraga waved to her people, accepting flowers from children and wiping the tears off her cheeks. The people loved their queen, that much was very apparent.
It had even momentarily dispelled the gossip about the King taking the Commodore's wife as his mistress.
Thorin allowed his own smile to curve his lips, letting the people see his joy at his wife's safe return. He escorted her to the open-top carriage that was waiting - he would never limit his people's view of their King and Queen in their triumphant return.
Laraga wasn't dressed for such a public spectacle, but she was not bothered in the slightest by it. Her hair was a bit wild, barely held up and dotted with the flowers newly gifted, her clothes plain and practical. But she felt comfortable, and that was what mattered. In the pretty carriage she settled next to her beloved, pressed in close to him yet still able to wave to her people. A snap of the reigns and they set a leisurely pace towards the palace.
The Mrs. Commodore called to her husband wryly, "Come on, hero of the realm. We've got to follow the royals for the fancy-to-do at court where we get rewarded for saving their lives."
"Aye, woman, hold onto yer hat."
Thorin glanced back and called, "Do keep up, Commodore. I'd hate for you to be left behind."
Glaes laughed and swung up onto a waiting horse, letting it prance as she followed the royal carriage, waving her own greetings to the crowds. She wasn't one for flowers, but when she saw a contingent of young men toasting her with tankards and flasks, she grinned all the brighter.
And Thorin rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "She's going to be insufferable after this."
"Oh let her have her fun," Laraga beamed. Much of the crowd followed them as they moved ever closer to the palace. A few of the more romantic citizens called for a kiss, from either couple it seemed, to celebrate the lovers' rescue. Never one to deny her subjects, Laraga kissed her king's cheek and the cheers soared.
"Oh come on," Glaes jeered at the royal couple, "You can do better than that!"
So Thorin did. His arms slid around his wife, cradling her, all but dipping her as he pressed his mouth to hers. One hand stroked her hair, holding her against him as his tongue slid against hers, tasting her and showing off for his subjects his love for his wife.
Laraga was thoroughly taken aback, in the best way. Thorin hardly showed such exuberance outside of their bedroom. So really, she couldn't be blamed for almost swooning. Breathless and blushing, she giggled like a schoolgirl. This was what she deserved, love and happiness. Not nightmares and shadows come back to haunt her.
Glaes whistled shamelessly and grinned, dancing her horse closer to the carriage and teasing, "You kiss your mistress like that?"
"You tell me," Thorin teased back once he released his queen. "Mistress Pirate."
She pretended to blush and fluttered her hand at him.
Arriving at the courtyard of the palace where Princess Dis and her sons were waiting, Dwalin lifted his wife down from her horse and, not to be outdone by his friend, outright dipped her in a dramatic kiss.
Swept off her feet, literally, by her husband's kiss, Glaes kicked her little feet with delight as he kissed her. And she was grinning as she came up, raking her hair out of her face, arms around his neck.
Thorin handed his Queen down from the carriage before turning to greet his sister, "Dis. Thank you for this. Thank you for keeping everything together while I was away. I'm so grateful to you for everything you've done."
"For fucks' sake, Your Majesty. We going to stay outside all day? Some of us might be hungry."
"But of course, Mrs. Fundinul," Thorin said, "We'll have to arrange a proper banquet for the heroes of the realm, won't we?"
"Right now, I could be satisfied with rum and a roast," she said, "And some fresh fruit."
"A quiet luncheon among friends, then," Thorin agreed, "Before we embarrass you in front of court with medals and accolades."
"Lunch sounds lovely," the queen said.
"Luckily I already have something ready," Dis told the group. "Come with me. I have a luncheon ready on our private veranda."
And it was certainly a sight. Cold roasts and fresh fruit were already there. Soups were being poured, salads tossed, rolls distributed.
Thorin escorted his wife, one hand on her lower back, keeping his body as close to Laraga's as he could manage without knocking her over. He pulled out the chair for her and settled himself at his own seat only after she was comfortable, complimenting his sister, "Dis, you really do think of everything."
The princess sat next to her brother and gestured to the luncheon feast, "I couldn't let you four come home without a proper meal! The second your sails were spotted, I had the kitchens working."
"Thank Ulmo," Glaes grumbled, "Food." And she set about eating more than her body weight of fruit.
"You'd think you hadn't eaten for days," Thorin laughed.
She shook her head, "We didn't. Or not much. That yacht had the basics and that's it. I couldn't eat, sailing that damn thing by myself as I was, and Her Most Vomitous Majesty couldn't keep anything down so this is the first thing I've had to eat since dinner the night before I was taken."
Thorin felt a flush of embarrassment, "Ah. Well, eat up then. There's plenty."
Glaes nodded, already stuffing a plum into her mouth, teeth sinking into the yellow flesh, breaking the purple skin. Laraga meanwhile went for the roast and soup, heavy and hearty portions to fill her up after losing her stomach for days.
"Dis," Thorin said, "Tell me what's been happening while I've been gone. I left so suddenly, surely there were things I missed that I need to know."
"Come home and immediately back tae work, no chance tae breathe," Dwalin said around his mouthful of roast.
Glaes shrugged, "Nothing wrong with some peace and quiet every now and again, I suppose."
Her husband nodded and filled his plate a second time. "I dinnae want tae see a single document for a week! This whole debacle made some of my hair fall out."
"Well, you did decide to marry a maiden nearly half your age," Glaes teased, "You might start feeling old sooner than you expected."
"What about the pirate lass that swooned into the old Commodore's arms, eh?" Her husband fired it back at her and she laughed merrily.
"And then seduced the King single handed, the way the gossips say it," Dis said blithely.
The table quieted as the four friends looked at each other.
"Laraga," Glaes began, "I hope you know that nothing...happened. No matter what they say, no matter what they say they saw, Thorin was nothing but an absolute gentleman."
"So he didn't summon you to his chambers for a private conversation?" Laraga did her very best not to sound needy or scared of the answer. She recalled what Doctor Oin had told her and clung to his advice.
"He...did," Glaes glanced at the King, "But it was only to talk business. And when what he asked opened wounds I hadn't expected, he responded only with the compassion of a friend. Nothing more."
"I wanted to ask her about Captain Drake," Thorin said neutrally, focusing on his food and cutting his roast into smaller pieces. "The silence on the seas worries me and Mrs. Fundinul knows him. I wanted her opinion as to what he might be planning."
Both the Queen and Princess nodded. Yes, that would make sense. A pirate with ten thousand gold pieces was something to worry over.
"Everything else the vultures are saying happened, didn't." Glaes' amber eyes burned, "They're liars and they can keep their forked tongues behind their teeth."
"How bad was it when I Ieft?" Laraga addressed that to the Princess that had stayed behind when the men raced off to find their women.
"They came out of the woodwork," Dis answered. "I won't repeat their words, dear sister, they were cruel and that's all I will say."
Laraga's pretty face scowled and she readjusted in her seat. "I care not for their petty games. My people's everyday hardships matter to me, not those leeches."
"There will be time tae return tae the duties that await ye," Dwalin spoke up, finally sitting back from his plate. "But ye've been through Hell these past days and ye still have a bairn in yer belly. The everyday hardships will still be there tomorrow."
"I would like very much to hide away in our wing, for the day at least," she told her beloved gently.
"By all means," Thorin said, kissing her hand, "I'll make sure you are not disturbed as you rest. I need to meet with my advisors, see what happened while I was gone, make a list of the most pressing demands, answer their questions."
"For fuck's sake, Thorin," Glaes said sharply, "Your wife is too polite to say it but I'm not. She wants to spend time with you. She's trying to ask you to spend time with her and rest together."
Thorin flushed angrily, "I know that! But I...I can't just hide away all day. I can't ignore my duties. I already ignored them for days, now that I've returned I can't afford any other distractions."
"Did you just call your wife a distraction?"
"No," Thorin snapped, "No, it's just...there are expectations and responsibilities and duties and-"
"And those are all more important than your wife?"
"I do not have the luxury of your freedom," Thorin snapped at her sharply. "The Crown must always come first!"
"Ulmo's winds," Glaes said, her brow pinching as she looked at him with pity in her eyes, "What did he do to you?"
"Who?"
"Your father."
Dis and Dwalin shared a knowing look. Both felt incredibly awkward.
"Brother, one evening won't hurt," she said gently. "I promise nothing of note happened. I took good care of things, it would do you good to rest and return to court fresh."
"I will not be questioned!" Thorin's silverware clattered on the table as he snapped his hands down, "It is because I was not taking my duties seriously that she was taken in the first place! A King must protect his Queen!"
He got to his feet and stormed away.
Glaes's eyes widened for a moment, a brow lifting as she blinked. Her face turned away from the King's retreating back - and he was the King, he wasn't Thorin in this moment - and all she said was, "Wow."
Laraga sat very still, made herself small, a man raising his voice frightened her still. Too many bad memories. At least her breathing was not affected, she was not about to faint again. Her hands wound tightly in her skirt, all the tension in her mind going there.
Glaes watched the Queen, noticing the unnatural stillness, the silent, subtle tells of her hidden fear. Amber eyes met green when Laraga was able to look up again and the Queen knew the former pirate understood only too well what she was hiding inside.
Dis pulled a flask from her skirts to give herself a hit of the strong stuff before saying, "Father was too hard on him...I am grateful to you all, I really am."
Glaes broke her eye contact with the Queen and tossed her hair, saying, "Well, I'm quite fine spending time with my husband today. Though there's something in the air that disagrees with me here. Shall we head back to our own house? I'm sure the King will send for us when he's ready for us to serve at his pleasure."
Medals. That was what he felt their heroics and their life-risking adventure was worth. Medals. Marked with the royal crest of the Line of Durin, strung on a silver and blue ribbon. Royally declared heroes of the realm could wear only a stripe of Durin blue, even outside of the Line as they were. Heroes were held in high esteem after all. It was the single exception to the Durin blue sumptuary rule.
The schemers and the cruel gossips watched the way the King and the Heiress looked at each other as she knelt to receive her medal, the way his hands draped the ribbon around her neck, the way his fingers gathered her hair and let it fall over the ribbon. She looked up at him, the woman the court all thought was the King's mistress, looking at the King with his Queen by his side. The Queen that was kidnapped and rescued by the former pirate.
There would be enough gossip to fuel the entire court for a month from this single interaction alone.
For Thorin's part, he did his duty. He bestowed the medals, he named the Commodore and his wife heroes of the realm, he gave a speech about their bravery in the storm and in the face of danger, he praised their quick thinking and their fearless defence of the Queen's life. He even offered a hand to help Glaes to her feet when it was time to bid them rise and present them to the court as heroes.
Laraga was dressed in one of her finer gowns, of which she had so very many. As her husband was dark and dressed in a colour akin to azure, she was fair and gleaming in silver-white and burnt orange. The cut of her gown showed off her ample curves, a fertile mother of the nation - so Dis had called her.
She made a little speech of thanks, praising her rescuers and giving a short recollection of the harrowing event for the court to have some kind of truth to cling to. No doubt they would embellish it soon enough.
For her choice for the day, she did not show a hint of hurt or disdain for the woman who was supposedly sharing her husband's bed. Let the guilty courtiers play with that.
After the ceremony there was to be a short reception. Short because the delicate queen must surely be needing recovery after her ordeal. Delicate, pregnant flower that she was.
Laraga partook of the lemonade and many little side dishes that were on offer. Well did she know the court was talking about her, some were probably trying to guess if she carried a son or a daughter based on what foods she picked. Ridiculous, the lot of them. And she was enjoying a mince pie when the grande dame of all the gossipers came to pay her a visit.
"Your Majesty," Madam Udrun fluttered her fan and made her curtsy. "How good it is to see you returned safe and sound."
"Thank you, it is good to be home," she replied perfectly politely. She did not want to talk to this woman. The courtly rumour mill could be run on her chasing a whisper alone.
"Such a harrowing ordeal! I will never understand how anyone could be so duplicitous as the craven who kidnapped you."
Could she really not imagine someone so two-faced? Wasn't that funny. But also very prying.
"I would appreciate we not mention him," she said lightly. "The wounds are still too fresh, you see." Another bite of pie and she washed it down with her chilled drink. A pleasant enough distraction from the eyes that watched her like hawks.
A raucous laugh drew some attention. Dwalin was telling the punchline of some sailor's joke and the men around him found it hilarious. So did his wife, if her cackling was anything to go by. Laraga was glad Glaes was comfortable enough to laugh. They shared some of the same trauma in their pasts, that much she could tell. The details mattered not, at least she had one kindred spirit to call a friend.
"How very curious a creature she is," Madam Udrun said as she fanned herself from the heat of the crush. A short reception did not mean a sparsely populated one, and the formal parlour was full of eyes and ears intent on the Queen and all who conversed with her.
"Mrs. Fundinul? Yes, she is a most unique soul," Laraga said diplomatically. "Without her aid I do not know what would have become of me."
"Some say you are not the only royal who finds her so unique or indispensable," the elder lady said in a somewhat nonchalant way. But her eyes were gleaming with a nasty kind of mischief.
Slowly, Laraga turned to face her, one brow raised and an expectant look on her face. The cruel words of this woman and those like her had driven her out of her home in search of peace. She had fled her own family and broke down in hallways weeping over the fear these people had caused to fester in her heart. That was going to end today.
"Is that so?" she asked lowly. "I am afraid I do not know what you mean. Do tell, Madam."
"Your Majesty is not in condition for the full details," the woman simpered and Laraga felt her blood start to boil. Hardly home but a few days and this was what she returned to.
"No, please, do tell."
That was all the gossip needed to hear.
Out came the imagined sordid details of the King's extremely notable affair with his best friend's wife. Illicit and public meetings, the sad expectation that a wife would need to make room for a mistress during her convalescence. How distressing it was that the Queen was not even given the respect to choose her husband's mistress!
"It is a wonder Your Majesty can stand to hear such things, being in such a delicate situation as you are."
Every word Madam Udrun spoke fanned the coals of fury in Laraga's heart. Did these people have no shame? Nothing better to do than to stick their noses in the business of others? And to spread such unfounded, horrible rumours about her spouse and friend. She had to do something to put a stop to it.
"Yes, Madam Udrun, it is a wonder that anyone listens to your lies. And an even greater wonder that any host would find room for such a rude tongue in their polite parties. I know I will not in the future. Good day."
Everyone in a wide circumference around the two heard that. Gasps abounded. In one fell swoop the Queen had shut down not only the rumours but the social life of the biggest gossip at court.
And one woman laughed shamelessly, her petite body shaking with laughter as Glaes all but crowed, "Serves her right for all the shit she said about me!"
Glaes had taken to walking the docks. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night, sometimes with her husband, sometimes alone, but she walked the docks and breathed in the fish oil and tar and hemp and salt smells of the sea and the working ships.
Court had kept her from the water for too long. Tea parties and card games weren't the same as the blood pumping in her veins as she faced down a storm clinging to the rigging and singing a shanty to challenge the winds. Garden parties and country horse rides were nothing compared to the adrenaline and excitement of a fight, a knife in her teeth as she dared the open waters. She missed the sea and she missed it bad.
During those walks, a whisper of a voice floated back to her, words she had stored in her memory against her will.
Let's see how long you resist after you're back in the cage of court. Soon enough you'll be looking for my red sails.
She told herself that wasn't what she was looking for. She only wanted to walk the docks and talk to the sailors as one of their own, using language and words that would make them see she was one of them even under the stays and skirts. And she got to know them, made friends among the various crews and ships that came in and out of the harbour so freely that more than once she had watched a ship sail with the tide and found tears in her eyes she firmly told herself were from the salty wind.
Her birthday came and went and her husband, knowing more than any of the others how her heart longed to sail, gave her a private cruising yacht. Well, it was the Fundinul family craft, a steady and sure offshore yacht, a gaff-rigged schooner that could handle the ocean currents for long cruises. The Greenstone she was called after the famed green marble of the kingdom.
Glaes had cried when Dwalin had shown her the beautiful ship and told her it was hers if she wanted it. Oh she had cried and kissed him through her tears and demanded to sail it right now. And that had eased some of her wanderlust because she could sail again. She hadn't realised how much she had missed it until Eorl of Rohan had demanded she sail them south and she had felt the wind in her hair and the kiss of the sea. Her wardrobe slowly changed too, more breeches and boots and coats to help her captain her own ship instead of the gowns and bodices.
It happened roughly three months after Eorl of Rohan had abducted her. She strolled down the docks one afternoon, taking a detour back home from the royal palace and some card games she had won. She walked by her ship, her Greenstone and a man sitting on the crates nearby said, "She's a lovely craft."
"She is," Glaes agreed, taking in her sails and the new varnish they had put on her railings.
"She yours?"
"Sure is."
"Reckon sailing under you would be a fair bit better than my last employment."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, turning to look at him, "Who did you-"
Her question died in her throat. Amber eyes focused on the man's hands. Tattooed hands that were toying with a leather pouch. She knew those tattoos. She had watched him get some of them.
Glaes stepped closer and her eyes darted up to the face hidden by the hood, whispering, "Micoz?"
He huffed a laugh, "Hardly recognize you now, Glaenin. Look at you, a proper pretty lady."
She floated closer hesitantly. His head lifted, the early evening sunlight catching his face and Glaes gasped.
A black eye, a split lip, bruises on his jaw, the slightest crook to his nose that betrayed a break still healing. He hopped down from the crate and caught her when she flung herself into his arms with a gasped, "What happened to you?"
"This is what I got for sticking up for you," he said to her, hugging her back, "Every time anyone said anything about you or made some reference to what they wanted to do to you when we finally sacked Erebor."
She pulled back and cupped his face, "I'm sorry."
Dwalin wasn't expecting company when he returned home from a night with the officers. He wanted maybe another drink and definitely to kiss his wife, but instead he found her waiting for him in the foyer. She was twisting her hands and there was something shadowed in her eyes that immediately had him asking, "What's wrong? What's happened?"
She shook her head, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."
"What's happened, then?"
She took his hand and pulled him with her into the parlour, gesturing, "Dwalin, this is Micoz. He was...we…"
Micoz rose from where he sat on the couch and said, "We sailed together on the Crimson Dragon."
Dwalin had half a mind to haul his wife behind him immediately but the Easterling tossed him the leather pouch he had been holding in his tattooed hands, saying, "Here, Commodore. A gift to stop you from calling the guards."
Suspiciously, Dwalin tugged the pouch open and inhaled the scent of rare and expensive pipeweed, Shire-made if he wasn't mistaken. This was the good stuff. High grade leaf, Dwalin knew it would have him calm as a baby soon after smoking it.
He looked the Easterling over slowly and said, "So, ye're Micoz. I have heard good things."
Micoz glanced at Glaes and she set her jaw stubbornly, "We were friends for six years, Micoz. Now for this," she gestured to his face, "We're family. He won't arrest you, not unless you give him a reason."
"Still a pirate after all," the Easterling said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
She flashed him a smile but her eyes betrayed her worry. She never wanted her friend to take hits for her, spill his blood for her, break with his other friends for her. She had expected...she had expected that once she left the crew would move on and forget about her. As, she realised with a pang, she had almost forgotten about them.
But there was no denying what she knew for truth.
The last time she had seen him, he had been on the iCrimson Dragon./i He had been with Drake. That was nigh a year ago, she didn't know what had happened since then, she didn't even know if his injuries were for true and she cursed herself for believing so easily. Drake had made it clear to her that he would give the Commodore what he wanted to see with her. Who was to say he wouldn't do the same to her? Send her a friend beaten to soften her heart?
Her hand tightened on her husband's and her amber eyes were hard as stone as she asked harshly, "Did he send you?"
"Glaenin-"
"It's Glaes," she snapped, repeating, "Did he send you?"
To his credit, Micoz looked her in the eye and didn't waver, "Yes."
Dwalin tensed. So this man was a spy.
"My wife promised that I willnae arrest ye. But I think we need an explanation as tae yer purpose here. Now."
He was prepared to defend his Glaes, his country, and his King. At any cost. Already one man had tried to take her away, another had tried to ruin and rape her. He would not let the Dragon burn down all he loved. Micoz recognized the furious look in the Commodore's eye and his tattooed hands curled into fists. He had known Glaenin-Glaes longer than this man had, had watched the boy grow into a youth that he had been quite interested in. Then this Commodore appeared and Glaenin had turned into Glaes and had left them behind to deal with the officers' anger alone. The men glared at each other, sizing each other up like mountain cats.
"Stop it, both of you."
Glaes barely recognized her own voice when it rang out. But she couldn't back down now. Back down and lose face and lose respect. Was this what it was to be a captain?
Amber eyes found the Easterling's and he said, "Glaen-Glaes, can I speak to you-?"
"No," she said sharply, her hand tightening on Dwalin as though she could physically keep him still, "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my husband. And I will protect you from him, Micoz, because of our history. But after six years, you owe me the truth. Why did he send you?"
Micoz looked like he wanted to run. Wanted to fling himself out the window and race for the sea. He reached for the flask in his pocket and took a deep swallow to steel his nerves, hissing as the alcohol stung his split lip. Glaes didn't care. She fixed him with her hard gaze and, when he wiped his mouth, he met her eyes and she saw the honesty flare.
"He's coming," the Easterling man said. "He's used your ransom and built himself an armada. And he's coming here. To blockade Erebor, to pillage the towns, and lay siege to the capitol."
"How many ships?" Dwalin demanded, "We have a little time but not much. How strong is his armada?"
Micoz's eyes flicked to the Commodore, "Almost one hundred ships. He was gathering more when I left. I don't know how many he has now."
Glaes turned away and crossed to the window as though by standing there and looking out at the horizon, she'd be able to see the crimson sails. One hundred pirate ships was terrifying. The Erebor Navy was roughly eighty ships but with many of them deployed or acting as defence for trading colonies, there was no guarantee Erebor would be able to survive this.
Micoz continued, "And they're all pirate ships and armed to the teeth and united in their bloodlust and desire for treasure."
Glaes took a shaky breath, her hand white knuckled where she gripped the window frame.
They were out gunned. Dwalin began to pace the room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think. They had allies. But could they muster in time?
"We need tae warn the King."
"He sent you to find me," she said from the window, her head turning slowly to show them her profile, "He sent you to tell me. He sent you...to me. Why?"
"Because," Micoz barely breathed, not wanting the Commodore to gut him in the parlour, "When he comes to shatter Erebor and take the treasures of the kingdom...he'll start with the most precious."
Glaes' head snapped back to the window, eyes wide with half-remembered panic. Drake had called her precious once, only once. The day of the exchange with a pistol to her breast.
Nothing personal, precious.
"How better to break the Navy," Micoz said carefully, "Than by crippling the Commodore?"