Chapter 11

Sorry to post twice in one day, I realize I'd neglected to post chapter 10 here when it went up on 10.31

CW: More sexual content and much more sexual than last chapter.

Please enjoy!

…

Dinner was…fine. Miriel was thankful Legolas seemed to be the primary interest of all the other attendees. He was asked many questions, and quickly charmed Galadriel, Celeborn, Celebrían, and Elrond. The soon-to-be newlyweds spent a good part of the meal engaging the young prince when they were not focused on one another. It was truly endearing.

Miri fielded only a handful of questions. She noticed Thranduil subtly working to redirect attention away from her when those moments arrived. He would swoop in to ask a loud question about the meal or the wedding plans. At one point after Celeborn sought further details into Miri's role in his court, the elfking even stirred up the mealtime conversation by casually asking about the feelings surrounding Elrond's bloodline. Tension rose. But Miri saw Thranduil's eyes glitter dangerously.

However, most inquiries were polite small talk. Celebrían especially seemed to make a point of trying to include Miri in conversation. The younger elleth's interest felt innocent enough — Miri found she didn't dislike talking to Celebrían, that unlike her mother she was lacking a cool calculating undercurrent.

"It is so kind of you to raise the prince after his mother's loss," Celebrían ventured gently. "No doubt the king is grateful for your generosity."

She resisted the urge to snort. "Indeed," she replied airily. "We both strive to give Legolas all that he needs, in our own ways."

Celebrían smiled warmly. "I look forward to when we have our own hîn. If possible, I suspect Elrond would love a menagerie."

"So far one has been enough for me," Miri said dryly. "And this one isn't even my own."

"But you are as a mother to him," Celebrían assured eagerly. "Yet you do not desire to raise more?"

Miri considered, her mind drifting back to the babe she'd rocked and soothed, the toddler who'd happily explored their new cavern home. Would she ever want a hên of her own? It was a good question, one she hadn't pondered in…over a century? After all, children did not spontaneously appear when one wished. And Miri had hardly been on the hunt for a partner.

She found her eyes sliding towards Thranduil. To her surprise, his grey eyes were already trained on her. Instead of being cowed from being caught, he kept his gaze steady, untroubled. Miri swiftly looked away.

"Perhaps," she said finally. "One day."

…

Legolas fell asleep quickly, drifting off after only one story and in the midst of her song. Miri pulled the blankets up to his chin before quietly slipping from the room. Hopefully, he would sleep peacefully despite the unfamiliar space. With luck, he'd be weary enough to sleep in a little.

A knock came only a few minutes after she'd closed her own door. Miri, having recently undressed, thought nothing of opening it, assuming it was Carwegeth to see if she needed anything before the lady's maid went to bed.

It was not Carwegeth. Thranduil stood in the corridor, wearing what Miri recognized as his loungewear— a heavily embroidered silk robe over a soft cotton tunic and trousers. His brows rose to see Miri in her own nightgown.

"Your majesty?" she asked.

He did not wait to be invited inside, sweeping past her as only an arrogant noble could. Miri stood shocked for a moment before slowly closing the door and turning, folding her arms across her chest.

"What do I owe to this visit? It's late, Thranduil."

He stood center of the room, peering around impassively. She wondered how it compared to his own chambers.

"You and Celebrían seemed to get along well," he commented, crossing to examine her windows.

"Surely this isn't why you barged in here?" Miri followed him. Her annoyance was thinly veiled. "To comment on my dinner conversation?"

He half-turned towards her. "I merely wished to assess if you were well."

She joined him before the window. In the stark moonlight, Thranduil's hair glowed like starlight. His eyes were pure silver, bright upon her with an intensity that put a lump in her throat. He had no right to be so beautiful. All elves were innately stunning creatures, but he was a level above all others. In his shadow, she felt as appealing as a warty tree toad.

"I am fine," she assured him. "It truly has not been as terrible as I'd imagined."

"We're not yet among the masses."

Miri inclined her head. "I shall be fine. I have Legolas to focus on."

"Just Legolas?" he asked softly, shifting forward.

She couldn't help it; she smiled. "Not merely Legolas. But you hardly need looking after."

"You'd be surprised."

"There is little you do anymore that could surprise me."

Thranduil's remote expression did not alter as he moved closer still. His hands skimmed her hips. Miri burned under his touch, sliding her own palms up his chest. Beneath her hand, his heart beat steadily. She held her breath when he tilted forward, resting his forehead against hers. They closed their eyes, taking a moment to merely exist together, breathing in time.

How could he be so infuriating and admirable and irritating and such a source of comfort all at once? She was under no illusions that each soul contained multitudes, but Thranduil's felt so contradictory. Twice today he'd sought her out to insure she was not upset by their hosts.

"One of Elrond's ellon kept too close of an eye on you as we ate," he murmured. "And it set me into such anger. I had half of a mind to corner him after the meal, or better yet, corner you before him."

Miri pulled back, opening her eyes. "And do what? It is hardly a crime to look at another."

"I did not appreciate how his gaze fell upon you," the elfking replied. "Perhaps I shall speak to Elrond."

Pursing her lips, she placed a hand lightly on his marred cheek, feeling the tingle of the glamor beneath against the skin of her palm.

"Do not trouble Elrond only a few days before he says his vows," she scolded. "And especially not over a few glances."

"You're my seneschal," he replied. "Not a lamb brought forth to slaughter." A hand looped around the small of her back, keeping her loosely in place.

She didn't understand. "Slaughter being...?"

Thranduil gave her a sardonic look. "Partnership."

Miri was tempted to laugh; the elfking was completely serious. Did he fear Elrond would poach her, either through marriage or employment? Miri shook her head, trying to keep the amusement from her voice. "There is no danger of that, Thranduil."

He scowled, clearly not pleased she did not take his concerns seriously. Again, a laugh threatened to spill forth. Instead, she pushed upwards, letting her lips brush his. The gesture was meant to impart comfort. Instantly Thranduil pushed closer, eagerly moving his mouth against hers. He groaned when she roped her arms around his neck, placing an opened-mouth kiss along his jaw. His free hand skimmed one shoulder, pulling at the neckline of her gown until the ties parted and gave him a new expanse of flesh to worship.

In a display of very un-kingly behavior, he cursed when Miri shifted back to push down the other shoulder, giving him access to the swell of her breasts.

"You shall be the death of me," he swore as he watched her. Miri kept her eyes on him as she peeled the linen back further.

Thranduil could not bear it; tugging her close again he buried his face in her bosom. After nuzzling her sternum to his satisfaction, the elfking turned his focus to lavish each breast. Miri's breath came out in ragged pants as he teased each dusky nipple between his teeth, teetering between pleasure and pain. The feeling of his cock, hard and long against her abdomen, did not help.

A whimper escaped her when Thranduil sealed his mouth around one nipple and sucked. Miri's hips bucked in desperation. Thranduil pulled back with a low chuckle, the popping sound of his lips releasing her breast positively sinful.

"Let me bring you to bed," he asked against her neck, where he mouthed a series of spine-tingling kisses. "Please. Miri."

She should say no. She should back away, insist he leave. But instead, Miriel let out a gasp when he rotated his hips against hers.

"Yes," she choked.

Not breaking their embrace, Thranduil swung them around and backed her into the bed. Miri sank onto the mattress when it struck the back of her knees. The king took the opportunity to shed his robe and tunic, throwing them towards the chest at the end of the bed. Then he turned to her nightgown, already half-hanging off her torso. Miri shifted to allow him to pull it down past her stomach, hips, and legs until it was a puddle of white fabric on the floor. Thranduil stepped out of his pants and moved into the cradle of her hips, exhaling as he felt her wetness against his eager cock.

"I was ready to fuck you on that log," he said lowly, grinding into her heat. Miri let out a quiet cry, muffling herself. "We'd have both been left with bark rash on our backs and knees, moss in our hair, but damn, I would've taken you anywhere that night."

Miri breathed, "I'm glad we held off until there was an actual bed."

The king laughed, dropping a kiss against her open mouth. His tongue plundered without mercy, and when he pulled away her lips were plump and red, kiss-bitten. As a reward Thranduil moved a hand between where they were joined, seeking the exact spot that would make Miri fall apart. He watched her face intently to gauge what motions made her mewl from want. He circled her clit with a practiced thumb, his pad brushing against the bundle of nerves over and over until Miriel was shuddering.

"Please," she managed.

Never one to deny a lover, Thranduil extended a finger, then two, then three, inserting each while still teasing her clit. Miri gasped as he crooked the digits within her, rubbing the ridged stretch of wall in time with his thumb. She arched her back, making breathy pants that soon morphed into a cry. In an effort to keep the sound down, he sealed her mouth with his once more.

When she came down, Thranduil took himself in hand. Her eyes, half-lidded watched as he pumped himself, once, twice, a bead of clear precum glistening at his tip. He lined himself against her swollen entrance, looking up for permission. Miri adjusted to tilt her hips forward, legs rising to lock against his waist.

Gently butting his tip against her entrance, Thranduil paused for a moment before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside her with one smooth motion. Beneath him, Miriel keened. At the feeling of her walls gripping his cock, he exhaled, eyes closed.

"You feel —" he choked. "Miri —"

The feeling of fullness was so good, so complete. It had been so long since she'd partnered with anyone, and Thranduil was already leagues above any other male she'd fucked. When he began to rock into her, Miri reached to dig her nails into his back. Her pleasure was building again, in time with his, mounting each time he snapped his hips.

Thranduil dropped his head to her shoulder, overwhelmed. Miri's sigh turned into a moan when he increased his speed.

"I'm close," he warned. "Come with me."

Miri's legs tightened around his waist, her hips canting upward. Sensing her need, he rolled his pelvis again, and in a few short rotations, she broke with a gasp. Thranduil followed shortly after. He muffled his groan against her neck, burying himself in her again and again and again. When he finally climaxed, he'd done so with a roar, bottoming out within her. Her walls fluttered around him.

Finally, he draped himself atop Miri with an elated exhale. They lay like that for some time, Miri idly tracing patterns with her fingertips along his back. And then, slowly, the elfking rose. Wordlessly he wet a handcloth using the basin beside the bed, offering it first to Miri, then rinsing the fabric and cleaning himself.

She'd not considered what came next, but Thranduil decided for both of them. Miri lay on her side, letting herself fall into a light doze when his weight sank into the mattress beside her. Thranduil pulled her flush against him, one large hand resting on her flank, his breath tickling her hair.

"I cannot stay," he murmured into the dark. "Galion will notice, come morning. Granted, he'd be smug more than anything…."

Truly, she had not expected him to sleep cradling her all night. This was, after all, merely an outlet. A means of releasing the tension they'd both held back for so long. Comfort, in some ways. But there was still a hint of disappointment at his words. Miri swallowed, finding her throat suddenly dry.

"Legolas may still find his way in," she added after a beat, knowing both that it was true and yet unlikely. An excuse would spare them both embarrassment.

Thranduil nuzzled her neck. "A few more moments. The Valar can grant us that, I believe."

His presence, while familiar yet not, help ease her into sleep. Miri fell back into her doze with the feeling of warm, light breath on her neck, a heavy hand resting on her waist, and awoke a little before dawn to mussed sheets and an empty bed.

…

"You do know that the ceremony will involve a lot of sitting quietly, Little Leaf?" Miri pointed out skeptically as her charge bounced around the room. Carwegeth, who stood behind her dressing her hair, chuckled.

"She's right, Prince Legolas," the older elleth agreed. "Much of it will be watching others speak. It's the feast afterward that is all the fun. When I was your age I nearly fell asleep at my first wedding. The ceremony is just a lot of talking, vows, and proclamations. Quite boring for a young elf."

"I won't fall asleep," Legolas proclaimed. He was sitting on the edge of Miriel's bed, kicking his feet absently. She could tell he was already mussing up his formal attire. "A few wrinkles never killed anyone," she reminded herself.

"Lord Elrond would be very put out if you did," Carwegeth said dryly.

Legolas shook his head emphatically. "I've got to hear the song he chooses."

Miri was surprised he remembered their conversation about his own parent's wedding. She wondered if he ever thought to ask his father what song he'd sung for Caladhiel. "It might be a poem instead of a song," she warned.

The elfling shrugged. "I'm sure it will still be good."

"They're not adventure epics, my prince, they're love poems." Carwegeth finished the last braid and tied it off with a deep blue ribbon. "Many verses dedicated to flowers, the moon, stars, and the like. Perhaps they will not be as entertaining as you envision."

Legolas was prevented from answering by a knock on the door. Glancing at Miri, who nodded, he scooted off the bed and ran to the door, pulling at the knob with both hands to open it.

Thranduil stood in the threshold, looking down at his small son with raised brows. "I thought I might find you in here, ion nin. Your room was empty. Are you ready?"

The prince nodded. "Miriel helped me with my hair. I thought you would be too busy," he admitted.

Thranduil sighed. "I apologize. My meeting with Amroth went longer than I had hoped. But Miri has done a fine job." He turned to the females, both standing at the vanity across the room. Bowing his head, he gave his thanks. "Are you ready, Miriel?"

She ran a hand over her skirts, smoothing invisible wrinkles. "I am."

"Then we may depart."

Once outside of the bedroom Thranduil extended his arm to her. Miriel hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping her arm through his. This was the closest they'd been in the days since their frantic coupling. Thranduil had been busy with the usual bevy of diplomatic parlays. The awkward feelings aside, she was already wary of how it would appear, the elfking escorting his seneschal. Wordlessly, as though sensing her doubt, Thranduil pulled her closer as they made their way down the corridor toward the stairs. Legolas skipped ahead of them, entirely unaware of the tension between the two adults he adored.

"You look lovely," Thranduil murmured as they ascended.

Miri almost tripped at his words, glancing up at him swiftly. The corners of his mouth quirked only slightly at her stumble. His eyes glinted with mirth.

"Thank you," she managed. A retort felt more appropriate, but of course, now was when her mind went blank.

"Did you plan for us to match?"

Frowning, she took in Legolas's attire, Thranduil's, and her own. They were all, to her mild horror, wearing shades of deep blue. Her gown was almost the exact hue of Thranduil's velvet robes. The silver threads shot through her own outfit mirrored the silver silk that lined the robes, and the pewter damask tunic he wore underneath. Legolas's tunic and leggings were far less flashy, but still, he wore midnight blue with silver accents.

"No," she said slowly. "Though now I am wondering if the seamstresses encouraged me to select this fabric with an agenda in mind."

Thranduil hummed, clearly amused. "No one will mistake us for anything other than members of the same party."

"I'm glad someone finds this entertaining," Miri groused. "Rather than entirely embarrassing."

"Oh, I am quite pleased," he replied, lowering his mouth to her ear. "No one shall doubt what is mine."

His words made her shiver. Glancing up at him sharply, she pursed her lips. Elfking smirked, then schooled his face back into its impassive mask, straightening and looking ahead as though he hadn't said something….something….

He'd sounded similar earlier in the week when he'd been displeased by a member of Elrond's party making eyes at her across the dinner table. A note of possessive pride paired with the implication of jealousy. The notion was unsettling.

Miriel let the disquieting thought pass. They were here for a wedding. Representing the Greenwood. She wouldn't let Thranduil's idle taunts distract her from the task at hand. She was here to tend to Legolas, support Thranduil, nothing more. The king had teased that she would be a deterrent from any elleth searching for a marriage match, but that was nothing more than a joke. She was hardly going to be an obstacle in any elleth's eyes.

The pavilion where the ceremony was taking place was eloquently decorated with greenery, flowers, and candles. Legolas's eyes went wide to see the dais at the head of the space, where a birchwood archway stood center, wrapped in ivy and decorated with lights so small and delicate they could be mistaken for fireflies. Already, many filled the seats of the pavilion. Thranduil gently held his excited son back as they awaited the herald's announcement of their names.

"King Thranduil of the Great Greenwood, Lady Miriel, and Prince Legolas…."

A few heads turned at their names. Miri had not expected her name to come before Legolas. He outranked her. Etiquette would demand she be named last. It was as if someone wanted to call attention to her presence. Holding back a sigh, she kept her chin high as they strode in, Legolas leading the way. Despite his eager energy, the prince took measured steps to their seats, face appropriately solemn. He was quickly mastering his father's signature expression of regal detachment. Alas, her pride was overtaken quickly; Miri could make out whispers —

"Avarethil!"

"….raising the prince…"

"…a bed warmer after his queen died…"

"I guess she changed her mind about kings?"

— and hoped that none of them reached Legolas's ears. Thranduil certainly heard, his grip on her arm tightening dangerously. She took a deep breath, keeping her gaze steady on the dais. It wasn't thrilling to contemplate after so long living in the elfking's court, she'd confirmed their suspicions merely days ago — though not for the reasons they assumed, at least.

Once they reached the head of the pavilion, their party paused. As they'd practiced, Legolas executed a shallow bow to Galadriel and Celeborn, who sat to the left on the dais, the traditional seats of the bride's guardians. Thranduil and Miriel followed suit. The lord and lady offered a gracious incline of their heads, then the Greenwood party retreated to their seats.

"Very good, ion nin," Thranduil murmured as they sat. Legolas beamed with pride.

A few more families entered, following the same introduction. Legolas's wide blue eyes took it all in, noting every arrival. Then the first notes of music drifted through the air, signaling the start of the ceremony. There was a rustle of activity among the crowd, then silence as the couple appeared on either side of the dais.

Celebrían, her blonde hair gleaming like gold in candlelight, drifted in from the left. She wore a gown of soft pink with intricate embroidery on the bodice depicting spring flowers. Her mate approached from the right. Elrond wore a deep burgundy that offset Celebrían's pink nicely, a gold circlet atop his brow. His large dark eyes were intense, focused on his bride, yet crinkled in the corners with unabashed joy. She smiled softly at the sight of him, arms outstretched. They joined in the middle, hands clasping tightly, practically glowing with radiant happiness.

Miriel was not especially prone to tears. But even she was moved to a bit of light weeping at their exchange of words. Legolas peered up at her curiously, and she merely squeezed his shoulder, allowing the tears to stream down her cheeks. For his part, Thranduil never looked away from the arch where the pair stood. She wondered if he was reflecting on his own ceremony with Cala.

Legolas barely squirmed throughout. He spent most of the time watching the proceedings with interest, becoming particularly enthused when Elrond recited a poem about the change of seasons as a metaphor for love in his soothing baritone.

At last, the ceremony was finished and a great commotion echoed through the pavilion. Every elf was on their feet, cheering and singing their joy at the union. Of their party, only Legolas jumped and whooped, a sharp contrast to the restraint shown by his father and Miriel's polite clapping.

"And now the feast?" he asked hopefully as the back rows began to file out after Celebrían and Elrond departed to a celebratory toss of flower petals.

Thranduil chuckled. "And now the feast. I am sure your new friends are eager to see you."

…

Legolas was quickly occupied by the other elflings. Haldir, the ringleader of the group, had taken an immediate shine to the prince. She watched them skip around the feast hall, laughing as they tumbled through the adults, most of whom chuckled. Part of her was grateful that he had so easily found friends. But she'd anticipated spending most of the evening occupied with her charge. A built-in reason to avoid socializing. Alas, now she'd have to try to put on a good face — lest they think her cold.

It likely wouldn't matter anyways. With the ceremony over, the furtive glances and whispers were back. Miriel had managed to avoid the scrutiny for the most part by taking meals in her room, but she could not avoid them altogether. Her cowardice only carried her so far. As a guest of the elfking's, there were expectations on her presence.

For the moment, Thranduil sat beside her, calmly eating his venison and observing the room. Whenever his gaze crossed the small form of his son, his lips quirked.

"I feared he would be the only child in attendance," he murmured.

"He would have found friends regardless," Miri replied.

The king pursed his lips. "So unlike his adar in that regard."

She shook her head. "Don't say that."

He tilted his head. "Don't lie, Miriel. You better than any other understand my nature."

"Fair enough" she snorted. "But you're wrong. You have friends, you just take your time making them. There is no shame in taking your time and being selective of those in your circle."

They were interrupted by a hush falling over the gathering as Celeborn rose. Smoothing the front of his robes, he lifted his goblet, then smiled down at his daughter from where she sat beside her groom. Celebrían's cheeks were flush. Her hand was locked in Elrond's. The pair were practically glowing with joy. Miriel got the sense, based on the subdued smile Galadriel had pasted on her face, that perhaps the parents of the bride were less-than-enthused over the match.

"Good for Celebrían," she thought as Celeborn began a toast. "Defying her parents to find her own happiness. And without scandal, too."

The parallel — or, rather, lack thereof, was nearly enough to make Miri wince. Was anyone else pondering the two elleths and their diverging fates? Celebrían, raised to wed another member of elven nobility, choosing someone unexpected but still within the confines of her rank. And Miriel, sent to be a ward in another's home with the hope she'd make a socially advantageous match, only to rebel and reject any union, let alone a predictable one. Keeping her expression placid, she stared straight ahead, choosing to avoid any gazes just in case someone was making the comparison.

She raised her goblet and sipped her wine at the conclusion of the speech. Elrond followed his father-in-law with a few words thanking the guests for their generosity, though he kept his gaze on his new wife during most of his remarks. After another round of cheering, the music began again.

The jaunty tune, rich with an elegant harp and cheery woodwinds, felt out of place against the cool that was suddenly creeping down her spine. Her lungs felt tight, as though slowly being deprived of air. Attempting to maintain an appearance of calm, Miri stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirts. Thranduil glanced up, brows furrowing in an unspoken query. She let her fingertips skim his shoulders as she passed behind him in answer.

…

Crisp night air did little to ease her burning lungs. She'd walked and walked until the sounds of the feast were faint, the lights distant. Miri turned and realized that she stood in a familiar garden.

A mossy fountain was the centerpiece of a natural stone wall, gurgling softly. She could make out carved frogs and fish, nearly obscured by years of overgrowth. The stone dripped with jasmine and honeysuckle, giving the garden a sweet fragrance. It was nearly cloying and not helping her attempt at breathing. Even in the dark, this place was as familiar as the back of her hand.

When they were children, not quite old enough to enjoy the festivities but of an age where they were required to attend, she and Cala would sneak out to the gardens. They would gossip and giggle, lay in the soft grass, uncaring of mussing their hair and skirts. Miri could remember trying to see the stars from between the leaves above, sharing secrets with her best friend. Dreaming of life beyond lessons and expectations.

Cala was more prone to sighing over ellon, but she readily joined in laughing at any sign of pretension on the dance floor. In retrospect, Miri had no doubt that some elder elves had shared their own chuckles over the pair's uncoordinated spinning. They would swing together, hand-in-hand, until they were dizzy and nearly ready to fall into a heap. Cala's mother would simply cast them a narrow gaze from where she sat with the other naneths and they'd scramble away, tittering as only children do.

Miri sank onto the edge of the water. "I miss you," she thought, pushing the words out into the universe in the hope, somehow, Cala could hear them."I thought maybe someday the feeling would fade, become less of an open wound and more a scar. But I'm still waiting."

Closing her eyes, she let the sorrow swell, then pass like the night breeze. When she opened her eyes, she could breathe again.

...

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