Since it’s time travel/space day for @saurondrielfest, here’s a snippet for an enemies and lovers across time and space AU I hope to write more of some day, a Saurondriel story that’s long been forming in my mind. Inspiration includes Doctor/River and Doctor/Master (Doctor Who) and more recently, Red/Blue (This Is How You Lose the Time War).
She curls up against his chest, her head above his heart so she can hear it beating. He does not truly understand why the sound of his blood-pumping organ gives her comfort. But he has never been one to deny her wishes where it is in his power to grant them.
He finds his own solace in the weight of her smaller but solid form resting in his arms. He threads his fingers through the golden waves of her hair, kisses the top of her head, and inhales the sea spray scent of her skin. Wonders which oceanic planet she most recently visited to dismantle and destroy the mining systems he painstakingly designed and implemented.
“What is it?” she asks, her fingers tracing along the muscled lines of his bicep.
More than once, she has complained about how he never shuts up. But he can see it in the way she lifts her head from his chest to command his gaze. His quiet worries her.
“I’ve received new orders,” he admits in a whisper.
“Why are you concerned? I will stop you,” she jests with a smile. “If I have not already.”
“You always do.” Always is generous, but it is close enough to the truth.
She tilts her head, her smile fading.
He will not ask her why. "This is different," he warns her, dancing ever precariously along the control he tries to maintain.
"Then tell me," she says with a huffy laugh, ever frustrated and amused by him. "Tell me and I will—"
"I cannot," his chest tightens. What if he did?
She sighs and rests her head back down on his chest. "You and your precious order of time, as if I have not already diverted the tides of your plans again and again."
"His plans," he says with a scowl.
"Do not deceive yourself," she counters. "For all his will and power, he would be nothing without your vision, your cunning mind."
For all she is right, there is more she cannot ever understand. That he would never wish for her to comprehend. "The freedom he gives me is an illusion, Galadriel. It always has been, just as you tried warning me so long ago," the words fall from his lips before he can stop himself.
"I did?" her voice catches. "In your past. In my future."
He winces, realizing he has already said too much. "I should not have said anything," he tries to backtrack.
"Wait, Mairon," she pulls herself up. "Is this about—"
"Don't," he puts his finger to her lips, rising to sit beside her. "One wrong word and everything could unravel, every moment we have shared eviscerated."
"You do not know that. You cannot know that, not for certain," she persists, a storm brewing inside her. "Say no. Do not go. Without you—"
"Galadriel, stop," he demands. "Not another word."
She looks at him as if he has struck her.
Her fury would be easier to bear. Something in him breaks. "Please, Anarinya," he begs. And offers. It is all he dares to offer.
She does not rage. Far worse, a lone tear escapes the corner of her eye.
"When?" She asks, reaching out to hold the side of his face, to graze her nails through the scruff on his face.
"Not yet," he says, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. "Not tonight," he says, pulling her back into his arms.
