Her hands combed through his hair with no particular purpose, braiding and unbraiding at random. The music of the celebration seemed a dull buzz in the background, so unimportant he hardly even registered that.
All he could feel was her fingers.
Most of their friends had gone to bed, or were too drunk to sit still for this long, and they were alone.
Just like they liked it.
With a sly smile he checked to make sure nobody was paying attention to them, they weren't. Quick before she could react he turned his head and kissed her.
And then turned back around when she laughed, she leaned forward so her stomache was pressed against his back, "The wine has made you bold, my Prince."
A title hardly used, especially not between them. But it was a reminder of why nobody could know.
Not yet.
Love was dangerous these days. Especially in these woods. They couldn't love.
Not yet.
"Will you marry me?"
Her hands stilled and this time he swung his entire body around on the stump he was sitting on, her hands slid to his shoulders. "Yes."
His hear nearly soared to the clouds and he tried not to let his smile split his face in half, "Good."
Another Elleth asked him to dance. Another hopeful suitor he just wanted to go away. He had no interest, his heart was long since taken.
But he could not say that. Not yet.
And so he danced, and so did she. But not with each other.
Not yet.
That wouldn't happen until later when she snuck into his room, and then they would dance all they like to whatever sing the forest wanted to play that night.
He could feel her eyes, sense the hint of a fear lingering. Once the music stopped he excused himself, politely declining the next dance and claimed to need a drink.
He walked to the table she had settled near. The music was loud and his people were happy, nobody would hear. Regardless, he still nearly whispered it into her ear, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
It was not often they fought, but then they did it was always bad. Terrible in every way it could be.
Her back was to him but even then he could tell her arms were crossed. He still at on the edge of the bed.
They weren't done fighting about this. Not by a long shot, not yet.
"Will you marry me."
She still didn't look at him. Not yet. "Yes."
They were crouched in treetops, his back pressed against the bark and nearly wedged solidly between two thick branches in an attempt to conceal them.
She was pressed against his chest, face buried in his shoulder to stifle whatever involuntary noises of pain were made. One of his arms held her tightly against him, the other crushed a grip on her upper arm in a way he knew was painful, but it was to slow the blood flow.
They didn't have enough anti-venom left on person to treat a wound so big, not properly.
The snapping Orcs and Snarling Wargs would pass.
They would get her help on time.
He kissed her cheek and then her temple and forehead, "Will you marry me?"
He felt her huff a laugh, even through the pain, and she nodded silently.
She slipped into his bed in the dead of night, laying her head and half her chest across his own. Automatically their legs tangled together.
He was so tired. Every inch of his body was exhausted and he didn't even have the energy to open the eyelids he was surprised to find had even closed go begin with. His arms came to hold her waist.
She sounded equally tired, "Will you marry me?"
"Always."
He felt her smile when she kissed the bottom of his jaw.
She wasn't surprised but was still disappointed when he wasn't home when she finally returned herself.
She slipped into his room anyways, his bed was much more comfortable than her own. And only almost exclusively because it smelled like him.
Waiting for her when she pulled the covers back was a ring made of a weaved from a bowstring and a strip of fabric the exact color of a newly grown Greenleaf.
They would get married one day. When this darkness was gone.
Soon. But not yet.
The birds were chirping happily in the new day sun when he woke up, he turned to the side to look at her.
His wife.
He had spent centuries asking her but it still seemed hardly really she had actually married him.
He rolled over onto her side of the bed, one arm around her waist pulling her bare back snugly against his chest.
He kissed a like down her shoulder and up her neck, she hummed happily. Once he was done he asked, "Will you marry me?"
She laughed and adjusted herself so that she was nearly laying on her back and could see his face, "I already have."
"Then marry me again, marry me a thousand times. Because I will never grow tired of asking you, and I certainly never want to stop hearing you tell me yes."
He stole what was probably going to be another laugh with a kiss, "You're ridiculous."
"Mhmm, perhaps. But you've known that for over thirty centuries." He kissed her again, because he loved her and he could.
Finally he could.
Still, he asked again, " Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
