Naked

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Maedhros is a prisoner of the Dark Lord.  And Morgoth has plans for his newest, most important guest.  Quenya names used (Maedhros = Maitimo, Fingon = Findakáno).  Istelindë is, of course, my OFC Maedhros' wife originally from "Broken", but also featuring heavily in "Weapon", "Adapt", "Disconsolate", "Soft" and "Soothe".  This story is also closely related to "Repeat", "Clean", "Get Up", and "Try Again" amongst a good number of others.  It takes place in Angband (of course) during the Years of the Trees (he was actually hung by his wrist before Arien rose for the first time, so this is technically not the First Age yet).

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: Maedhros x Istelindë (OFC)

Characters: Maedhros, Morgoth, Istelindë (mentions Fingon briefly)

Warning: canon-compliant AU, non-canon relationships, OFC warning, slight sexual content, literal mind-rape, implied mutilation (not the obvious) and torture, abduction and imprisonment, violence

Song: Can't I Even Dream

Words: 1,376
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naked (adjective): not covered by clothing: nude; devoid of customary or natural covering: bare; lacking embellishment: unadorned; devoid of concealment or disguise
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/naked

Only before one person's had Maitimo ever been truly naked.

The moment struck a chord in his memory, resonating vibrantly through the entirety of his being.  The feeling of lying beside her in the dimness of morning, his arms entwined about her sleek body and her legs folded gently over his waist, their loose hair tangling and their sweat-slicked skin mingling.  Until one did not end and another begin, but they wrapped continuously around one another into one creature.  Joined.

But it had not merely been the lovemaking, for the prince had had his share of affairs in his young, wild years, and no matter how much skin was bare, it did not make one open or uncovered.  Did not leave them stripped of all defenses.  No, it was so much more than that.

It was staring into her eyes and knowing that no other person in the world would ever know him the way she did.  No other person would ever understand or accept him as she did, because every fault and worry and hope and sorrow was bare under her eyes.

Hiding nothing away, he had never been so exposed before another as he was in their bed, breathing her fragrant breaths from her lungs in the darkness.  Living the life of a prince, he had always been hiding, always shrouded in the overlying perfect image demanded of his status and duty.  A hard-hearted and cold-eyed politician with a barbed tongue, his father's exemplary firstborn son and heir.

Though his friendship with Findekáno had allowed him some freedom from those bonds, there had always been that small part of himself that he held at bay.  The weaknesses and wistful wishes and daydreams too private even for best friends.

Friendship, no matter its complexity, could not compare to moments wrapped up in another person from whom no secrets were hidden, to whom one's spirit was joined wholly and completely, seamlessly.  Istelindë was safety personified, the gentle hands to stroke him awake from nightmares and soothe away heavy-handed burdens.  The mere sound of her voice could drive away rage and leave him a shaking wreck in the aftermath, clinging to her desperately and wanting nothing more than to tell everything to her willing ears...

And she would listen with her blue eyes softening, glistening and writhing into ocean waves, sucking him down into their deep rhythm.

From her, he withheld no part of his self.

But that most intimate part of his being was reserved for her gaze only.  Or that was the way it should have been in an ideal, kind world.  Oneness and togetherness and trust between mates.

Now, before a second soul did he stand completely naked.

Not only in body, though every inch of his bruised, sweaty and marked flesh was bare to searing crimson orbs.  In spirit.  In mind.

The monster before him looked through every veil and screen and shield, ripped them all aside with an incisive, sadistic sort of glee that left the prince shuddering in agony where he stood.  Wide-eyed, he found that he could not look away, only stand shocked and quivering pathetically.

He could feel that creature there, in the back of his mind.  Grimy fingers were prying open the walls to his thoughts, that overwhelmingly hot, branding presence forcing its way inside until Maitimo felt his vision fading to white and his legs turning to jelly from the sheer wall of pain, pain, pain, from something intrinsic, fragile and tender being shredded without mercy or caution.

All it took was a moment.  A mere look.

Even violation of the body could not be so potent and terrifying, he vaguely thought as he struggled to right his coherency and bandage the gaping wound left behind.  All those things that he would never speak of aloud, all those moments of weakness cradled tenderly in the darkest corners of his mind, laid bare beneath a transparent window for the enemy to behold and mock.  All the midnight kisses and the sweet lovemaking and the secrets whispered in the dead of night into strands of moonshine made corporeal.

All the little hopes and wishes.  They unrolled like parchment, written in words of the soul for those eyes to peruse.  In the back of his mind, that presence spiked with amusement.

With pleasure.  And with anticipation.

Ice layered the inside of Maitimo's stomach, its cold burning outwards.  Frozen beneath those eyes, he could do naught but wait for the search to end, for the rape to be finished.  Wait to feel that his thoughts and memories belonged once more to him.

Filthy fingers raked their way across his mind, clawing open fresh lacerations.  And then the presence withdrew like the head of an arrow from its puncture, a jolt of electrical sensation wracking him to pieces.  But the disgusting feeling remained, an itch beneath his flesh, deep down in the muscle and the bone.  His skin prickled and his hair stood on end, chills breaking out over his trembling body as he breathed shallow gulps of air.  As he tried to reorient his form and keep upright without balance to guide his feet and sight to find his way.  The room was a twisting myriad of gray and red as he stumbled.

This time, the fingers that touched his skin were real.  Grasping hard enough to make his jaw creak, they canted his chin upwards, held him in place as the monstrous form the Dark Lord looked over his face and body.  Burned his eyes.

A nail scratched down his cheek, drawing blood. "I hear thou hast been giving my servants naught but trouble, my dear guest.  And we cannot have that."

Nausea roiled and mixed with the pain until they were an indistinguishable tangle of disorientation and tension.  Never before had Maitimo felt such fear, so overwhelming that his muscles twitched and his heart frantically pulsed until oxygen seemed to be exhaled from his lungs instead of inhaled.  Until he choked helplessly before the Dark Lord on his throne, only three stars upon an iron crown to break a dim glow through black, to highlight his shattered pride.

"I think I know just the thing..."

Maitimo felt his eyes widen further.  Felt his breath cease altogether.

Felt in the back of his mind the burning touch pluck at a precious memory, closely guarded and cherished.  One of him standing in the nursery with his wife, speaking about...

And no matter how he pulled away, those eyes knew.  Could see.

And Maitimo could not clothe his spirit once more, for it had been revealed utterly.  What was the power of a mere elf to this being of pure energy? 

The memory played its sweet overture.

"Finally, we are ready..." The finishing touches were set in place.

Her body pressed upon his back, arms about his chest, seemed all too real.  All too soft and comforting. "I am so excited!"

And he recalled turning around, kissing her, a chaste brush more intimate than coitus itself.

"So am I, isilmenya... So am I..."

The eyes narrowed.  An ugly, stomach-curdling grin twisted the already grotesque features, crinkling up shriveled lips over jagged, fanged teeth.  Excitement lashed against his thoughts, leaving them welted and shrinking away, only to be bound in place by those eyes.  Eyes that saw every inch of his being, stripped to the core.

Eyes that knew how to break him to pieces.

Maitimo knew.  Beneath his body, his knees gave out, and he was held aloft by the grip of his foe, forced to endure the wickedness of that smile and the agonizing touch of that mind slamming up against his own without care or delicacy.  Showing him images of the torments to come, of his own screams and mutilated, writhing form.  Taking pleasure in his revulsion and horror and fear.

"Do you not agree, Fëanárion?"

He would never forget that laugh, deep and hollow, shaking the very foundations of the earth.  Or the devastation that followed, ripping open the surface of his tiny, concealed reality.  Revealing its true core of cruelty.

Leaving nothing left but shattered remains.
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Just an idea that came to me about halfway through today while I was trying to get physics crap finished.  It just wouldn't go away, you know?  And, like I said yesterday, I'm just in the mood for angst and character torment.  My week just has been... eh... yeah... Poor Maedhros, I'm taking my frustration out on you.

Anyway, I wanted to do some of his "imprisonment", because it's barely mentioned in the Silmarillion, but he only spent eight of the twenty-some years as a prisoner chained to a cliff by his right wrist.  So how was the rest spent?  He certainly wasn't sitting around in a plush cell all by his lonesome, left to his brooding.  My bet would be that the Dark Lord was playing around with his VIP as often as possible.  Just for kicks.  And maybe a bit for revenge against Fëanor's blatant slight, too.

The song is not (lyrically) related to the story, but it had the right quality about it, you know.  Yeah, I'm just weird like that.  It was hard to decide whether to go with the Hatsune Miku version or the Zatsune Miku version of Can't I Even Dream, but in the end I chose the Hatsune version mostly because I love some of the high notes she hits to death, even if she has that nasally little-girl Japanese voice.  I just like the song LOL, so there.  :3  More Vocaloid.