Yes, I am jealous sometimes. That might surprise him if he learnt of it: he knows I know that he would never look with desire on anybody else—that he could not bear to let anyone quite this close except for me.
And yet, see how crowded this bed gets! We barely have room to move until we toss out, one by one, Morgoth with all his orcs, Feanor and six brothers, and the entirety of the Noldor. And I, too, have taken to wearing the crown to bed until the moment comes when Maitimo eases the pressure on my temples with a whispered word, a loving touch.
No, it does not get easier with time. It gets worse.
‘Maitimo’, I beg him.
He hears me and, in reaching out to me, shoves inwardly with all his might, making a space between council room and battle field where we can still be together. In that space, I breathe.