Now caught up to AO3 - next update will be in twelve days and every other Sunday from there.
He pinned her against the wall in an instant, his grip so fierce and firm she knew there was no hope of fighting back. She'd have to talk her way out of probably the most dangerous situation she'd ever been in.
"What did you just say?" he asked in a voice whose quietness did not hide its danger at all.
There was no use pretending not to have said it: she'd have to be bold and confident but at the same time soft and malleable. "Fëanor," she repeated carefully.
"Where did you hear that name? Who told you?"
Inevitable. Best to tell the truth, not implicate anyone else – or should she pretend someone else knew, so he wouldn't just dispose of her? No, he wouldn't do that. She'd make sure of it, if she hadn't already. "You did," she said. "Well – Stelmaria did. I overheard the two of you talking."
He said nothing, instead studying her thoughtfully as if she were an artwork, as if the answers to his unasked questions would be written on her face.
"So… it's true, then?" asked Marisa eventually and cautiously. "You are Fëanor? Some kind of… immortal?"
"No, I was telling lies to myself to pass the time."
As close to an admission as he'd get. It was true, there was no use trying to convince herself it wasn't. "Who are you, really?" she asked. "And more to the point, what are you?" She had to know, she had to understand what he was, whether it was curiosity or some longing to find his weakness and to finally understand him.
"What makes you think you have the right to know that?" he snapped. "When I should kill you just for what you heard?"
She'd pushed him too far. She'd have to chance it, risk everything on the hope that she was right, that he wouldn't kill her. "You won't, though," she said. Fear hidden, sounding as certain as she'd ever been about anything. "I know you won't."
"I could, but I'm choosing not to at the moment."
"Really. I don't believe you," she said flatly, because she was certain, now, that he was bluffing.
He stepped away. "If I ever find that you have told this to anyone – anyone at all – I will hunt you down, and I will destroy you forever."
"I wasn't planning to reveal you.," replied Marisa honestly. "But I can't help being curious."
"Curiosity is a sin, is it not, Marisa? It was the very reason Eve first ate the apple, after all."
"In some respects, when it is merely idle and lazy, prying into those matters that do not concern you, it is undoubtedly a sin. But when used wisely and with restraint it is one of the most valuable tools humanity has at its disposal." Years of practice at interpreting words the way she wanted people to see them for the Magisterium came in useful, although she doubted it would impress him.
"This does not concern you. Your curiosity is idle and lazy, and therefore by your own arguments you have no right to know."
"But it does concern me. I am your lover, and I have the right to know about you."
"I do not reveal my secrets to just anyone because they happen to have spent a night with me."
"One thing," bargained Marisa. She was confident this would work. "Just one thing, and I won't ever ask for anything else, and I'll keep your secret forever."
"What do you want to know?" he said after a pause.
"What are you? I know you're an immortal, but can you die? How?"
"I am one of the Quendi. I can die, but only by violent means, or if I wish to do so. I will never get old."
"How old are you?"
"I told you that I would only answer one thing. That is what I have done, and now I will not tell you anything else."
She pouted. "Oh, very well, if you must conceal things needlessly from me – but I would have thought you'd be longing to have someone you can finally confide in, someone you can talk to, after so many years."
"Get out of my room, you wicked enchantress, before you cast your spell over me!"
"I'll take that as a compliment." She smiled and left, overall pleased with how the encounter had gone. She was alive and unharmed, and had a precious scrap of information – and was confident that, despite his resistance, she would be able to find out more.
In his living room, she waited for a while before running her hands along his bookshelves and selecting a book on anbaromagnetic fields, which she took to the nearest chair and began casually flicking through while she waited for him to come and find her.
"I trust you're finding my book interesting." Fëanor had finished getting dressed and walked briskly into the room, shooting her an annoyed look. Excellent. She had him rattled at last.
Marisa replied, not looking up as she turned another page, "Of course. Though not so interesting as the stories you could tell me if you wanted to."
"And I don't want to."
"That's a pity. I was rather hoping to hear them. But of course, I wouldn't dream of asking for something you refuse to give me." Blatant lies, of course: she intended to do everything she could to find out more about him.
"Excellent. I'm glad to hear that you won't be hassling me about it. Now I really must be going, and I would rather not leave you alone in my apartment."
He was utterly infuriating. She wanted to scream, and knew that once she was in the privacy of her own apartment she probably would, and that something breakable would face her fury. "Don't you trust me?" she asked, knowing the answer already (if there was a clear answer, which there wasn't).
"I wouldn't trust you one inch if my life depended on it."