ours never knew peace, haladriel, soft-r
Artanis and Mairon meet in Valinor. Some things change, others...don't.
She was sat, a lock of her hair twirled around a pale finger, on a chair next to the fading embers of the fireplace. Her thin shift was translucent in the fading light, and her face was serious in a way that Mairon had become accustomed to of late.
“You look like you’re deciding the fate of nations,” he prodded from the doorway. Artanis looked up at him and smiled weakly.
“It has been a long day.”
He hummed in agreement as he came into her chamber and sat in the opposite chair. They had hardly seen each other for weeks, Artanis occupied with affairs far from Tirion. Even before that, his lover had been distant, less present than what he was used to.
Mairon had spent her absence, not stewing, exactly, but rather contemplating.
Artanis did not make a habit of involving him in her family affairs, so yes.
It had taken him a while to understand.
“I saw your uncle today,” he told her, his voice filled with irony. Artanis played it off, offering a polite hum before turning her eyes rapidly to the fireplace.
Mairon snorted.
“Did he look well?”
If he did not know his lover as well as he did, he would assume she was sincere in her question--a dutiful niece, asking after her brilliant uncle to the maia who perhaps saw him the most.
Mairon raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“He was considerably more talkative than you,” he replied. Artanis looked away again, staring once more into the remnants of her fireplace.
He sighed.
Of course he knew of Artanis’ enmity towards Feänor. Every soul in Valinor was aware of the dissent in the Noldorian ranks, and they had all long since made their decisions on who was the wronged party.
Few sided with the prideful princess.
“Aren’t you going to ask what he had to say?” he asked pleasantly. Finally, her eyes narrowed at him. Good, she was unwilling to be goaded.
He had missed her suspicion of him. He might love her cries of pleasure, relish in her confidence in him, but part of Mairon missed the way she saw so little value in Aulë’s favourite servant. Getting under her skin was fun.
He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. With a small flick of his wrist, the fire returned to life again. He grinned at her, but Artanis simply rolled her eyes at his theatricality.
“Apparently he has renovation plans for your family’s beach palazzo,” he prodded. “New wing to the main building, perhaps a new lick of paint…”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“A new name on the deed,” he finished. Artanis stretched her legs before her in a feigned comfort.
Yes, it had taken him a while to ascertain why, exactly, she had been so distracted lately. Why she insisted on being away so often, refusing to let him in to see her even in the dead of night when he knew no spying eyes were watching him enter her chamber.
But he knew now.
Feänor cared little for leisure, but he loved reminding his brother who their family’s legacy belonged to.
Mairon knew and cared little about how the elf-smith had teased the title for the palazzo from Finarfin’s grip, but he was aware the home held considerable value for Artanis.
Aegnor taught me to swim there. It holds good memories, and I want to go, she told him years ago on a night much like this one. Except, then she’d been naked and curled into his shoulder, her lips on his neck promising she’d return from the palazzo to him following her family’s absurd festival.
“You could have told me,” he said softly. Artanis sighed, standing and moving gracefully towards him. She draped herself in his lap, her legs softly bracketing his as his arms came around her.
“It would have done little. My uncle is…a unique figure among our people,” she replied, a carefully hidden hurt creeping into her voice. Mairon’s hand smoothed down her back. He did not enjoy seeing her dejected.
Artanis was not meant to live in her uncle’s shadow. Not when her mind was as sharp, and her spirit so much lighter than the smith’s.
But she was right, Feänor was untouchable.
“Perhaps,” the maia began, but then caught himself. Artanis was not the only one who kept secrets, and he knew her enough to understand why she would never consent to even listen to the one who called to him in the shadows.
Still, his lover prodded his shoulder.
“What?”
“Perhaps there are other ways to destroy an elf without a physical harm coming to him,” he finished.
The words between them were barely spoken now, just filaments of language lying between their bodies like sticky spider webs.
Artanis considered.
“What do you mean?” she asked softly, her lips careful on his ear and his thumbs rubbing circles into her thigh.
“Well, what makes your uncle great?”
Artanis paused and thought, her brow furrowing. Mairon pressed a light kiss to her jaw before her blue eyes flicked to his.
“His influence with grandfather,” she began and wound her arms around his neck, adjusting their bodies so their hips were flushed together. “and his genius.”
Mairon nodded, moving his hand under her shift so he could feel the bare skin of her back. He kissed her, opening her lips softly with his tongue.
“What else?” he whispered against her once they parted. Artanis’ nimble fingers untied his own breeches, her soft hand reaching for his hardness as a small smirk appeared on her face.
“His skill as a smith,” she said, giving his cock a gentle pump. Mairon squinted at her teasing. She let out a breathy chuckle, putting her open mouth to the pulse point on his neck. “Well, you asked.”
Mairon patted her thigh, encouraging her to lift herself onto his cock. She let out a soft sigh as he entered her.
“You don’t need to kinslay to deprive him of that,” he told her as he rocked her forward, her nails entering his shoulder as she gripped him with a pleasurable hum.
“And then?” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his as she canted her hips in just the way he liked.
“He won’t have a thing left to his name,” Mairon promised. Artanis gasped in pleasure. “He will be no more than a man.”
She rode him more forcefully, her blindingly bright hair clasped between his fingers to steady her as she reached between her own legs.
“We will do this together?” she asked, her eyes pleading. He nodded silently.
“I will make enquiries,” he stuttered out, bucking his hips harshly up, causing Artanis to lose her rhythm. Her hiss was pleased, and she kissed him roughly, her hand spanning the front of his throat. “You are not the only one who would see the end of Feänor.”
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