Chapter Text
Long ago, in the world of Middle Earth. There lived a god-like being. He lived amongst his brother and the other enigmatic beings, leading under the rule of the one above it all. Yet he did not agree to this ruling. His natural calling of chaos rumbled in. As Eru Iluvatar called upon his children to sing, the strongest of his children strung along a black thread amongst the other white threads. Many white threads of string getting weaved within his pure black thread of chaos. Their souls falling accursed to the black murmurs of his touch. His touch grasping them and pulling them amongst the dark void of his own time…
As the millenniums passed, the dark lord became antsy. The constant wars and battles fed into his insatiable hunger for power. Yet he needed more, he yearned for more. More than just some simple kingdoms to conquer or some children of Eru Iluvatar to poison. No, he needed something of his own. A being of his own making.
So he collected what he believed to be some of the most powerful arcana belongings in the world. Some of his own thoughts and powers, some of others. He plucked a star from the sky from the Valar Queen's grasp and forever watchful eye. He then stole a soul for the perfect ripping of an elvish female. His being would need form after all. Yet for his last ingredient, it had to be of his land's rule. So that he called upon his lieutenant. A former underling of the Great Forger. His lieutenant had the perfect collection of this all.
With all of these belongings collected, he had hid himself and his lieutenant in a room. Setting all of the things on the table. The jar with the star threatening to burst through to return to the sky with its rightful brothers and sisters. The elvish soul which had been reaped perfectly to retain its magical form. Lastly a ball of power directly provided to him by his lieutenants hands. The dark lord collected these things for this simple purpose.
With a few enchantments and words of hope and reprieve, a light banged through the room. Sending the two beings hurling back forwards. The dark lord was the first to awaken. Not afraid of what had gone done specifically, more curious than anything. That's when it rang out, the cry, that of a babe. It wasn’t ear piercing but concerning. This was not what either believed to happen. They expected something ravenous to pop out. A weapon to be used in war. Not a babe who could probably not even protect itself.
Lifting himself off the floor, the lieutenant was the first to approach the table. There she was. Laying on the table, wailing. His hands moved to reach out to the babe. Somewhere in his cold heart still held some decency during that time. He gently lifted her in his arms and cradled her against his warm body. His red eyes trailing over to the Dark Lord who sat slumped against the wall.
His eyes screamed what he felt. A failure. That’s what he saw this as. It wasn’t supposed to be a babe. What good would a babe be? None, none at all. That was the problem. He finally managed to collect himself and pushed off the floor. Without another word, he left the room. Not bothering with being quiet, slamming the door. Leaving his lieutenant there with a babe who was now crying almost piercingly.
The lieutenant sighed softly as he gently tried to bounce the babe to calm her. He did not know much of tending to these creatures either. He was half of the mind to just leave her on the table and walk away back to his forge. Yet looking down into the sad little face he helped create, alas he could not. He could not bear to just walk away from it. So instead he slipped his coat off and wrapped her in it before heading out of the room. His footsteps quiet now that she had started to calm down.
Stepping back into his forge was a breath of relief. He dismissed any inside and moved to slump back into a chair. He gently moved his hand to slightly brush against the tuft of red hair. His lips falling into a small frown. What now.. Did he just take care of her?
Within the next week, the dark lord refused to approach his lieutenant. Not when he was taking care of that,, thing. He wanted nothing to do with his failure. One he had worked so hard on. But the more he tried to avoid it, the more his mind wandered to the babe.
In one night, he had finally decided to go see the babe. He made his way down the halls to his lieutenants forge, slipping inside. He noticed a half made bed of sorts, he could not understand where the other had possibly gotten this idea. He could feel the warmth of the creature from it though. His body stepped over, a dark shadow in the night as he loomed over the cradle.
As he peered inside, he was met with big red eyes staring at him. Of course, the thing didn’t sleep. A frown pulled at his lips as he looked down at it. He tried to make a face to scare the child but it ended in quite the opposite. A smile spreads on the unknowing babe. A frown on his own, mirroring the creatures.
“Macaria.”
A familiar voice rang out. The Dark Lord’s shoulders tensed at his lieutenant discovering him there in the middle of the night.
“What.”
“Her name is Macaria, seeing as you weren’t around to give her one. I thought to keep to the theme of M’s.”
The Dark Lord let out a breath at this. His eyes glanced at the babe in the cradle who was still wide awake. He could not help himself but to reach out and gently touch her chubby cheek with the back of his knuckles. She shared some symbolism to himself in the face. The shape of her nose, the wide red eyes, the pale skin. Whilst for some reason unbeknownst to his occupied mind, she also shared the same fiery red hair that his lieutenant bore. Yet in a way, she was perfect. In the very back of his mind, he could not deny that fact. She was perfect, and beautiful. An heir. A princess.
His hands then both reached into the cradle. His lieutenant tensing at this, his body moving forward to stop his lord until he realized that the Dark Lord would not harm the babe. Instead he lifted her with both hands and then settled her in his arms. The Dark Lord gave her the gentlest touch he has ever bestowed to anyone, even himself. He was careful with the jewels on his fingers so as to not cut her, his head looking down at her.
“Leave us.”
“But-”
“Leave.”
The lieutenant knew that tone of voice. As to not further upset the Dark Lord, he stepped backwards and then out of his forge. Closing the doors behind him. The Dark Lord then moved over to a chair, and settled down into it. He let out a breath as he leaned back into it. His arms still holding the babe snug against him. What had he done? He took in a deep breath. So many feelings misconstrued in his very heart and soul.
___
Raising a child was not as easy as they had thought it to be. Specifically a girl. She was not exactly a calm child, finding things to be misconstrued. She was not exactly spoiled, she just did not understand how things were in the world. How the cruel things in the world they’d warn her off were not really of others fault but their own. Yet in the lieutenant and his Dark Lord’s own weird way. This was their way of keeping her from ever thinking of wanting to be out there. After all, what did they know but manipulation and lies.
Soft giggles could be heard down the dark halls of Angband. A terrifying fortress in which the Dark Lord inhabited. Orcs and other creatures making way as the princess ran down the halls to meet her father after his latest escapade. Her dark red curls follow after her in which another with the same head of hair follows in suit. A sigh leaving his lips. Sometimes he regrets telling her and not grabbing her first, it did not help that she was so quick.
“Macaria! Slow down, you will fall.”
He chided after the clumsy child in a scolding tone. His lithe body making to catch up to her and scoop her up in his arms. A squeal left her lips at this. Her legs kicked out with a laugh leaving the princesses lips as he huffed at her carefree nature.
“So stubborn..” The lieutenant mumbled under his breath as he kept walking with the girl in his arms. She was always an excited child, specifically when it came to her fathers arrival after a while of being gone. Albeit the Dark Lord was gone for less than a month, but to a child - that was practically her whole life he had missed. 31 long days of going to sleep without the Dark Lord there to send her off.
Arriving at the throne room, the lieutenant pushed the door open with his shoulder before stepping in. He gave his lord a small recognizable look of playful annoyance. He slightly held the giggly princess up in his hand with little to no trouble. “I have arrived with your ever so treasured princess.” He said in a dull tone before lowering the girl down onto the floor, letting her take off to go annoy her father. He smirked a bit before turning and quickly leaving the room.
“Mairon-!” The Dark Lord tried to call out but was cut off by the girl who he called his daughter, a term that those who bore children used, approached him with a bright smile. He slightly cursed his lieutenant for leaving him alone to tend to the girl all on his own. His hands reached out to lift her into his lap. His hand moving to gently brush back some of her messy curls. He sighed softly with a soft frown. “Silly child..” The Dark Lord rarely ever lets anyone see him like this. Soft and vulnerable, gentle touches and loving looks. Of course she had to be the exception. It was hard not to be soft with such a good being. It made him wonder how she could have possibly ever been made by his hand. How can something so good can come out of something so evil? He sighed softly as she seemed to calm in her fathers arms, finding solace and warmth against him. The energy in the young child's body slowly calmed as she settled against his chest. His hand came up to hold the back of her head as he held her close to him.
___
As she grew over the years, he could feel his heartstrings tug in an uncomfortable way. She was not that same little girl that would curl in his lap as he read her stories. His hands carefully moving through her hair as his lips relayed the very same story millions of times. One she enjoyed so much, and one he had written himself. Yet now here she was growing too fast for his immortal comprehension. It worried him, would she continue to grow and succumb to a mortal life? Or would she be just like him and his superiors, forever living and immortally beautiful.
As she laid in bed, sleeping peacefully. He watched from the doorway, his arms crossed over one another. The lieutenant felt his lips pull into a frown at his own thoughts. He had watched her grow these past hundred years. She aged slowly but she also showed no signs of stopping in her maturity. Eyebrows furrowed in worry, the figure moving over to hers. Gently sitting on the plush bed with a soft breath. His hand gently came up to push back some of her curls from her face. The princess. The heir. Yet nobody treated her as an heir, but more of a jewel for the Dark Lord to covet. Out of fear, Melkor refused to let her leave the fortress. Refusing to let anyone know she existed. Terrified that someone would try and take the beloved girl from his arms.
In a way, the lieutenant understood his superiors' possessive behavior. He too wished to keep her so very close. For no being to lay their eyes upon her or steal her from them. Yet in a way, his very mind betrayed him. He knew better. He knew that as she grew, she’d want to go out. To be amongst the lands and water. To learn and live.
She was still alive after all, and unlike all of the others. She was not one they wished to completely control. Mairon wanted her to go out and be amongst the people. To dance and live, to thrive. He knew she would never thrive in this dark and dull place. He wanted her to get out of this place. To run in the fields free and happy.
His hand gently moved to hold the side of her face, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone with a soft breath. A sleeping beauty. His lips pulling into a frown, leaning down to place him trembling lips upon her forehead. His eyes tightly closed. A shaky breath leaving him. She had grown much too fast for his enjoyment. If only time would slow just for a moment.