vix_spes

Thranduil was doing it on purpose, Bard knew he was. What other reason could there be for that glint in his eye and that small, supercilious smirk playing on his lips? This was Thranduil’s way of paying Bard back for agreeing with Thorin instead of him during yesterdays negotiations.

In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, hostilities between the Woodland Realm and Erebor had eased somewhat but their rulers would never be friends. Instead, they had managed to establish a relatively cordial, if not somewhat frosty relationship that only just managed to not descend into name-calling and accusations if both Bilbo and Bard were present. In all honesty, Bard’s children had been better behaved when they were toddlers which, given that the two kings were over 6000 and 200 years old respectively, was both impressive and infuriating. Still, these meetings between the three kings (not that Bard would ever get used to being a king) were a necessity for them to continue rebuilding their kingdoms and so Bard (and Bilbo) dealt with the sniping comments and sly digs with all the weariness of long-suffering partners.

And there was another thing that Bard found hard to fathom; that he was not just a king but the lover of a king as well. Not only that but the King of the Woodland Realm himself. It was hardly what Bard had expected when he had begun a dalliance with what he thought was an elven soldier only to discover that his elven lover was far more than a simple soldier when Thranduil’s army swept into the ruins of Dale after the destruction of Esgaroth. Somehow, despite the fact that they both had kingdoms to run (and rebuild in Bard’s case), they had managed to make it work. They even had the approval of their children, well Bard’s children as they weren’t completely certain where Thranduil’s son currently was. Sigrid, his darling Sigrid – so much like her mother - , was happy as long as Bard was happy, Tilda thought Thranduil very pretty with excellent braiding skills while Bain was won over with the promise of weapons training. Still, as grateful as Bard was that his children approved of Thranduil and their relationship, as much as Bard loved the Elven King, he could be a giant blond menace when he wanted to be.

Much like now.

All Bard had done was agree with Thorin that responsibility for the Great North Road should be shared between the three kingdoms and that, as such, all three kingdoms would have equal rights and access to it. It would appear that this was not the correct answer and that Thranduil was intent on making Bard suffer.

To say that Thranduil was a clothes horse was an understatement and he looked good in anything he wore, from full armour to formal robes to even the uniform of a humble woodland soldier. That being said, the robes that Thranduil currently wore were Bard’s favourite and Thranduil knew it, the pointy-eared bastard. Every time Thranduil wore them, they ended up on the floor as quickly as Bard could rip them off Thranduil’s body; there was just something about the shades of swirling green that made Bard want to climb his lover like a tree and have his way with him. Thranduil knew this and had deliberately worn them, knowing that there wouldn’t be the opportunity for what Bard wanted, thus tormenting him.

Oh well, Bard let his own smirk play across his lips, just catching Thranduil’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Thranduil would learn his lesson, Bard would make sure of that.