Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion
Pairings: Maedhros x Istelindë (OFC)
Characters: Istelindë (OFC), Maedhros (mentions other random elves and the Teleri in general)
Warning: non-canon compliant AU, OFC warning, non-canon relationship, hints very heavily at mutilation, ostracized character, past arranged marriage, a bit fluffy
Song: Kikyou
Words: 1,232
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here (adverb): in or at this place; at or in this point, particular, or case; in the present life or state
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/here
There had been a time when a single dream had been her life.
When the thought of letting it go and fade into blackness was equivalent to letting go of everything she had ever cared about and throwing away all hope of happiness.
But that time had long passed her by. Istelindë had been lucky--her marriage had been fortuitous in that she gained instead of lost, and more of her forsaken wishes and fantasies had been nurtured and fulfilled than should a woman trapped in an arranged marriage ever dare to count upon. She had indeed been very lucky.
Lucky that Maitimo was altogether handsome, powerful and very kind-hearted rather than a cold-hearted, misogynistic politician more concerned with reputation and power. Lucky that when she spoke and questioned, he stopped and listened to her words and did not throw aside her advice because she had been born female instead of male. Lucky that he would never have forced her into their marriage bed for the sake of continuing his line unless she, too, agreed.
Istelindë couldn't honestly say their marriage had gotten off to an admirable start, not when they had been two strangers forced together. But within a few years of their bonding, the pair couldn't have been more in love with one another or more devoted to the other's happiness.
They had been planning on their first child--building a nursery and preparing for the conception--when the world had gone dark.
When everything fell apart.
And maybe Istelindë should have hated her husband. Should have spurned him. Should have forgotten about him and moved on with her life. She had suffered for his crimes as the wife of an exiled murderer infamous for slaughtering innocents in the name of revenge and reclaiming three glowing rocks. There was a constant flow of whispers and rumors that stalked her unprotected back. Looks of disgust or hatred were not uncommon to those who dared associate with the departed Exiles. Not much sympathy was offered to a woman who would claim such a man as her own.
But she had never let him go.
He was hers and she was his and no amount of nasty comments or dark looks would change that. Nor could the slaughter of her people or his innumerable other crimes or even the stigma that would no doubt follow him wherever he went, should he ever return. Nothing would change that single fact.
That was what she had decided when he left her alone.
And that decision had not changed.
Not even now that her lingering little dream--that dream that had fuelled her will to survive in the darkest hours of her life--was a fatality of her tiny family's tragedy.
There wouldn't be a child.
And she was heartbroken. Istelindë could not trick herself into believing otherwise. She wanted a child--many children. Wanted to be a mother. Wanted to see her husband's face of wonder as he held their first child. Wanted to watch children of their mixed bloodlines grow and walk their first step and speak their first word. Wanted to watch him fawn over his sons and become protective over his daughters.
She would be lying if she for a second denied that she had briefly thought of abandoning her husband. Of relinquishing her bond to his cursed line and returning to her people a free woman. No one would have blamed her--not even Maitimo--
He had, in fact, expected her to turn him away. Had seemed amazed when she refused to let him go.
--but she had known almost immediately, as the traitorous little whisper had slithered through her mind, that, even if he would not blame her for the appalling and self-centered decision to put her needs above his feelings, she would blame herself. Would never have forgiven herself. Would have regretted until the End of Days.
Their marriage was not perfect, but she loved him. He was the culmination of many other dreams that she had once believed impossible, dreams she had thrown away when she believed they were no longer feasible in the chains of a political engagement such as theirs had been. Dreams that he had fulfilled without even realizing their worth. A wonderful husband who respected and admired her, told her how beautiful she was and remained incredibly affectionate and attentive to all of her needs in a society where a woman need only stay silently in her place to be forgotten until it was time to bear another child.
In the end, it was about what was more important. Because no child of her womb conceived from another man would be his child. And to get that one child--from a man she neither loved nor cared for--would mean throwing away all the blessings she still had within her grasp. Throwing away Maitimo's love. And probably his life.
And, as she laid beside his sleeping form in their bed, watching his sweet face relaxed and gentle in sleep, she didn't think she could live with herself if she destroyed what was left of this man. Maybe he was a murderer, but not a remorseless killer. And, certainly, he had changed, but so, too, had she.
And she didn't remember when that little dream had expanded from a child cradled in her embrace to include the sensation of his strong arms around her body and his fiery hair tickling her cheek as they watched over their infant son or daughter together, wrapped and entwined until they were more one entity than two. When he had melded so completely into the image that he could no longer be expelled from its vivid perfection.
Istelindë couldn't imagine it without him. Not anymore.
And so here she was.
Her fingers silently, softly, caressed his sharp cheeks and drifted through waves of russet curls spread across their sheets, combing out the little knots as Arien's light began to leak through their window, spilling golden light across the floor and walls. Until it shifted minutely and shone right into his closed eyes. The urge to giggle into her hand was strong when she saw his nose crinkle, lashes fluttering in annoyance against the sudden brilliance.
Those dark lashes parted to stormy gray. For a few moments, they stared up at her in adorable confusion--somehow lightened--for their master was clearly more asleep than awake, caught in a net of pleasant dreams. "Lindë...?"
"I'm here," she murmured, shifting closer until she was pressed along his side, her curves fitting so rightly into the length of his form. Still carding her hand through his hair in long, lenitive strokes, she rested her ear over his heartbeat and released a contented, blissful sigh. "I'm here. Now go back to sleep, silly husband mine. It is far too early to be up."
There was some grumbling that may have been an attempt at reply, but he merely turned his head away from the window and went back to his snoozing, the vaguest hint of a snore carrying through the room. And it brought a smile to her face. For he had not changed as much as she had feared.
He was still her Maitimo.
And she wasn't going anywhere.
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This idea has been hanging out in my head since yesterday, but the song really cemented the less angst and more comfort aspects of the story. Kikyou is another amazing song from Naruto Shippuuden OST by Yasuharu Takanashi, one that I believe is featured when he returns to Konoha after three years way, and it's gorgeous. It's not sad even, it's just got that "new day" sort of feel to it. And believe me, I'm not naturally fond of light-hearted music, but this is very nice.
And thus it spawned this. Originally the prompt was going to be a bit angstier, but I decided that Istelindë has had an Age and a half to make up her mind about her husband, and if she was planning on ditching him at the first sign of something wrong, she would have up and left him as soon as he departed Valinor. Thus, I don't imagine her hating him--not the way I can see Lindalórë hating on Curufin, for example.
This is just a more lighthearted moment, I guess. Maybe she's just happy that he's back. In any case hope you enjoyed a little break from the overwhelming shit-ton of angst I seem to pour on you constantly. The last actually happy story I wrote for you was a couple of weeks ago at least.
Enjoy the story and the music, ne~
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