Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 47
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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He knew that the Maia was pushing them hard, no doubt hoping they'd break, but the words of his older brother echoed in his mind. 'For the one of us worth a damn.' He kept repeating them himself as he spilled blood and broke bones.
Fëanor would likely never be able to properly use that hand again, unless Estë herself deigned to help him recover if... when they got to the north again.
Fingolfin took a short breather, looking over to the 'prize' he'd gain for this. Finarfin was kneeling beside the desk, and he frowned when seeing some trickles of blood.
"Already admitting defeat?" There was something in Gorthaur's voice, magma dripping down instead of hair.
He wanted to punch him. "I can't kill my brother." Finu's firstborn, Miríel's only, was breathing heavily, blinking rapidly to keep the tears to a minimum.
"It's been barely an hour." The Lord of the locale mused, leaning back with a glower.
Indis' eldest suppressed his snarl, being very sure that they were going far too hard for someone intending to last 20 hours. Instead he turned to the table, only barely not slamming the latest 'toy' down. "Which one next?" He asked instead, cold blue eyes meeting flaming orange.
"He still has a working hand, so I don't know why you think you're done with that one yet."
"Do you want 20 hours of entertainment or not?" Fëanor snarled behind him, suppressed pain shimmering through his words.
Surprisingly, the former Lieutenant of Angband did not answer them.
"A hard question." Someone else answered in his stead. "Isn't it, Mairon?" The female that ascended the last few steps was one of the traders they had seen pass to the Mansion while they had tended Caranthir, clad in light blue. Now that they were closer to her however, the blue shimmered with the light of stars.
Mairon snarled in answer, glaring at her. Fingolfin blinked a few times, his mind slower to catch up with the fact that he knew her beside that.
"Fine!" The redhead threw his arms into the air, surging to standing from his seat. "Fine! Take him then!" Finarfin's only full brother did not understand for a few moments, not connecting Ilmarë with that statement. "Take him, Fingolfin, before I decide my revenge means more to me."
He gaped briefly, before lunging for his baby brother, gathering him into his arms. Finarfin breathed in sharply in pain, when his wounded thigh came to rest against his chest, but barely moved beyond that.
"Go." Ilmarë ordered them softly, not moving from her own spot at the top of the stairs.
"Can you...?" He needn't have worried about it, because their eldest sibling had staggered over already.
"Let's go." Fëanor ordered even softer, voice a bare whisper. "Before he changes his mind."
"Yes." He wanted to run, to take his sibling as far from this place as he could as fast as possible, but he held himself back so his other sibling could keep up.
