Not My Ammë, by Kaylee Arafinwiel (Message)
Title: Not My Ammë (250 words)
Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel
Characters/Pairing: Indis, Fëanor, OC
Summary: Indis reflects on her marriage, and interacts with her stepson.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fëanor isn't happy, but when is he ever?
Book/Source: Silmarillion
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Indis Noldotári. The title still feels strange. She thinks of long ago, when she was Ndissë, daughter of Imin, dwelling on the shores of Cuiviénen. Even then she had looked at Tata’s son with longing, though when he placed his hand in Míriel’s she had not spoken out. But perhaps Iminyë, her mother, had some foresight, for at long last she is the bride she was named to be.
She is seated in the Queen’s chambers, long unused, and everywhere there are signs of Míriel. The room is still and silent - she scarcely dares to breathe in it. But at last she hears a noise - a soft tread outside the door, and a rustle as something is pressed under it. Her new attendant, Ercassë, glances quickly at the door, and fetches the something to Indis at her soft command.
It is a note. Indis takes it, unfolding it slowly, and sees Fëanáro’s handwriting. The Crown Prince’s message is brief, scathing, and painful.
You are not my ammë.
Indis closes her eyes briefly, willing away the pain. She hears Fëanáro’s soft breathing outside her sitting room. “Nay, hinya, I am not Míriel,” she agrees aloud. “But I pray you will not hate me for your atar’s choice.”
“It is your fault, Vanya witch,” Fëanáro says aloud. There is a scurrying of steps - a door slams somewhere nearby. Indis’ head drops on her breast; she draws in a slow breath and steels herself, sitting up straight in her chair.
So be it.
Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel
Characters/Pairing: Indis, Fëanor, OC
Summary: Indis reflects on her marriage, and interacts with her stepson.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fëanor isn't happy, but when is he ever?
Book/Source: Silmarillion
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Indis Noldotári. The title still feels strange. She thinks of long ago, when she was Ndissë, daughter of Imin, dwelling on the shores of Cuiviénen. Even then she had looked at Tata’s son with longing, though when he placed his hand in Míriel’s she had not spoken out. But perhaps Iminyë, her mother, had some foresight, for at long last she is the bride she was named to be.
She is seated in the Queen’s chambers, long unused, and everywhere there are signs of Míriel. The room is still and silent - she scarcely dares to breathe in it. But at last she hears a noise - a soft tread outside the door, and a rustle as something is pressed under it. Her new attendant, Ercassë, glances quickly at the door, and fetches the something to Indis at her soft command.
It is a note. Indis takes it, unfolding it slowly, and sees Fëanáro’s handwriting. The Crown Prince’s message is brief, scathing, and painful.
You are not my ammë.
Indis closes her eyes briefly, willing away the pain. She hears Fëanáro’s soft breathing outside her sitting room. “Nay, hinya, I am not Míriel,” she agrees aloud. “But I pray you will not hate me for your atar’s choice.”
“It is your fault, Vanya witch,” Fëanáro says aloud. There is a scurrying of steps - a door slams somewhere nearby. Indis’ head drops on her breast; she draws in a slow breath and steels herself, sitting up straight in her chair.
So be it.