"You know," he said, running a finger down her side and pulling her close to him. "You're not a very good wife." Talia grinned and snuggled her head into a pillow.
"And you are not a very good king." She told him in broken Goblin. The king's joy radiated from his chest and Talia felt a chuckle build up in her chest.
"I have been learning for you." Marak Sharpeyes, son of Marak Catspaw, kissed his wife's hair fondly before running his fingers through her golden elf locks.
"You, my dear, are quite a scholar." Talia smiled at her husband's extravagant praise. The king of the Goblins was not known for such generosity.
As a small girl, she had heard rumors of his bloodlust in battle with the elves. However, she had never known anything but gentleness from him. Talia knew that she was no normal elf bride. She'd fallen for her husband the first time she'd seen him. He had ridden into camp, completely unscathed by the border spells, his horse lathered with sweat and his black cloak snapping as he rode.
The other elvish women had screamed and fled into the forests just like they were supposed to. Talia could not move. Marak nudged his pitching horse up to her side and extended his hand. She'd looked up at him with amusement glinting in her eyes. Every elf girl knew never to take the hand of a goblin man. His eyes glinted with a similar amusement and she curtsied.
"M'Lord." She turned to walk away.
"What's your name, elfchild?" His voice was low and musical, though rough to an elf's ears.
"Talia, m'Lord." She'd led the tall, thick man over to the tent where the Elf King made his home. She left him there. It wasn't until later that she'd learned what the Goblin King proposed to the Elf King. An end to war in exchange for a King's Wife, her.
Only an hour later she had accepted his offer and taken his hand. From her perch on his horse's back she watched her life fade into a darkness deeper than night and she liked it. "An ideal King's Wife." He'd called her, "More than ideal."