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[ What the dang heck is going on. Beleth can't quite make out Gwen's exact words, nor her exact identity--but she knows that she's not someone she would associate with keeping secrets with Thranduil. But Elros--? ]

He hinted at being elfblooded once, when we were in a...discussion about the state of the Dalish. I suppose he thought it gave him extra credibility.

[ It's much more diplomatically put than she would have said--probably had said--if they were alone. ]

( where his look had begun to soften her, the direction of the conversation does not—she lays her comb down, harder than she'd intended to do, turning upon the stool with her hair half-undone and her gaze flat and suspicious of where this is going.

he's going to win beleth over by convincing her that gwenaëlle might bear elves?

her silence is not relenting. she would hear for herself exactly where this is going. if he so much as thinks her mother's name.

her fists clench in her lap. she doesn't contain the faint, derisive sound at the idea of elros having any credibility, about anything— )

[ it is a roundabout way of getting to the topic at hand, but he takes it. elros is a poor example; elrond would be his choice if he was given one. ]

He would. [ dryly, he has a low opinion of the man's diplomatic abilities at the moment. ]

His paternal grandfather was a Man, as was his maternal great-grandfather, the rest of his line was elven and the blood of our finest kings. Elros and Elrond were offered a choice- to be counted as Men or elves. Elros forsook his twin, chose the Men, and this explains his state, despite the lingering traces of his heritage that can be seen if ones looks close enough.

[ he would go to gwenaëlle if he thought she would have him, but she will not, and the distance between them is great. he only looks at her longingly. ]

There is one other pairing known to me, of a Man and an elleth, like all the rest, but she ran from him which suggests a discord uncommon to our marriages. I cannot pass judgement upon it. But even their children were ennobled by their mother's blood, and were not wholly Men.

[ he ties it together, very tired. ]

Elrond is a dear friend. I have witnessed the half-elven- elfblooded- all my life, known them, called them kin. It is not a foreign idea to me, if rare, that such marriages would occur.

[ Beleth listens carefully to Thranduil's tale, making a few quiet noises of sympathy. What a shame, to have the blood of elven kings diluted into humans. But then Thranduil goes on. About a choice, about a forsooken twin, about a man who could have been a king of elves, and instead chose to be human.

Her temper, as it often does, comes with little warning, save the distinctive sound of a fist hitting wood. ]

You're fucking kidding me.

[ Thranduil's mysterious guest is temporarily forgotten. Elros seems to have the innate talent of pissing Beleth off to the point of open hostility. And without even trying! ]

He could have chosen to be--to be like you? To be what we were always supposed to be, to be what we should have been, what we were before we were reduced to this joke--

And left his twin? Left his twin to be a human? [ Her voice is shaking, this is something that hits intimately close to home. It's unfortunate, being an angry crier. ] Does he know what it's like, to lose your twin? To have someone you've spent your entire life with ripped from you, leave you feeling like you've a missing limb?

What has a human ever had to offer that you and your people do not surpass? How dare--If I ever see him again, I swear before Mythal herself, I'll...

[ She doesn't finish her words, but there's another distinctive sound of a wall getting kicked, followed by the more distinctive sound of Beleth in pain. ]

( this is the point at which gwenaëlle rises, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder and taking thranduil's crystal from him—it happens swiftly enough, her voice becoming increasingly audible as she mutters, incredulously, )

—it remains a mystery to me why Thedas got the stupid twin.

( most of the time, she doesn't spare elros a second thought. occasionally, when reminded he exists, she remembers how decidedly unimpressive she finds him. clearer, now, and leaning against thranduil who remains the single most exasperating thing in her life, )

Scoutmaster Ashara, this is Lady Gwenaëlle Vauquelin. What my husband is trying to say, in roundabout fashion, is that he is my husband and it's important to him to share that with you. ( for reasons which escape her, but: ) If rearranging his idiot cousin's features is the only way you can imagine reconciling yourself to this news, I implore you to follow your heart.

( she looks up at thranduil, eyebrow raised. are you happy now. )

[ 'gi melin,' he mouths to her, pleased. and then he braces, considers the room around them, wonders if what she serves for dinner will rid bad tastes from his mouth. ]

[ Beleth's anger still pulses in her blood, consumes her thoughts, and she's ready to share more of these thoughts with Thranduil, when someone who is distinctly not Thranduil answers. It's abrupt enough for her to be left in a stunned confusion, staring stupidly at the crystal as she tries to regather her scattered thoughts. ]

Yes, well--Thank you. The issue at hand is, of course, that it's rather distasteful for a division head to go about kicking her subordinate's faces in, but if I could figure out a way to convince him to keep his mouth shut, or perhaps if I challenged--

[ Clank clank clank clank, ding. ]

--Husband?

We were married in the fashion of his people during the Inquisition's diplomatic mission to Nevarra.

( it occurs to her that beleth is more likely than yngvi to know what that actually means.

she decides not to think about it too hard. hopefully beleth won't, either. )

I assume the reasons why we aren't sharing this news outside of family are obvious.

( and maker, but that olive branch is held in shaky hands that might prefer a switch. there you go, thranduil, she concedes that at least you consider beleth family— )

[ It doesn't occur to Beleth immediately, partly due to a large part of her thoughts still being dedicated to the idea of hunting down Elros. Partly, because the first thing she thinks of with wedding is something like her brother's own, beautiful and sacred, and wonders what it might have been like in Arda, surrounded by the elves of that world.

After that, she thinks: They visited Nevarra in Firstfall.

She thinks: It's unlikely that Thranduil and Gwen were not in some manner a couple before the wedding.

She thinks: When she'd asked Thranduil why he wanted to live in the Vauquelin mansion, so long ago, he'd dodged the question neatly. She hadn't even realized he'd done it, until right now.

How long, exactly, she wonders, but does not ask. How long had he decided not to tell her--did he not trust her? Did he not think she was family enough? But Gwen needs an answer that is not a resounding silence. ]

Of course. [ It's breathed out, faint and dazed. ] I understand. No one will hear it from me. [ Except Sorrel, but that's just part of life. And now that she's had more time to digest it, she's had more time to readjust the mask that sits so readily on her face, pleasantly polite and unphased. ]

I hope it's not to late to offer my congratulations, Lady Vauquelin. And thank you for your explanation, I appreciate the candor and trust placed in me. Unless there is anything else we can discuss, would it be alright if I spoke with Thranduil again?

By all means.

( she presses his crystal back into his hands; rises up on her toes and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, not thrilled about this but not unhappy enough to hold onto it when their time together is limited and seeing him off in anger would be—

just like them, if she's honest, but not preferable. and, well.

her father tried to have him fucking killed. they are both bringing complicated family to the table, here. she knows. )

I told you they wouldn't like it, ( she murmurs, touching his arm. ) You tread carefully.

( will he? will he fuck, probably, but she's spent most of their relationship giving him warnings he's ignored, and vice versa, so that's as may be. she's not leaving, because it's her bedroom, but she will allow them the illusion of privacy while she attends to her dressing instead of, as she'd briefly been tempted to do, immediately having a maid informed they did not need to set a place for provost thranduil after all. )

[ he exhales, shakes his head so slightly that it is as if he supposes beleth could see such a thing, even when half the city away. his fingers brush at the curve of her hip before she can get out of his reach, and he retreats to the far corner of the room, as much distance as he can manage between them for beleth's sake.

he has made things more difficult for himself, he knows this, but he must account for the soul at the center of his plans. ]

Beleth, [ gently. ] I am here.

[ She's not sure how to feel, exactly. It's a lot to process--and she's not sure which part of it is the hardest. It would be best, she thinks, to give it more time before offering any official opinion. ]

Would it be too much trouble to ask you if we could continue discussing this the next time you're in the Gallows? You could come over to my room for lunch.

[ Better to meet him in person, anyway. Both to face him, and to ensure that she doesn't have any surprise participants in the conversation, again. ]

Not at all, [ smoothly. ] Tomorrow? I will return this evening but there are things I would like to have in order before the morning.

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