Love of Mundane (Anaire x Reader)
The desire to be loved, to be wanted, favored, and needed is something most are born with. Such too was the case for Anaire. To be adored by her parents, cherished by her sisters, desired by her husband, and sought after by her children and grandchildren.
Her desires and wants aligned with the expected norms. She had been the most ordinary of her siblings, a mere shadow in the brilliance of her beloved. But she did not mind it. The mundane offered a comforting familiarity. So, she too could be loved.
That is what she had believed when she raised her children to be the shining stars of the Finwean dynasty. That she was cherished and loved, she hadn’t questioned it.
But that had been years ago. Long ago when Anaire had a family. When there was a delusion of someone wanting to hold onto her.
Now, as she sat on the balcony of a lonely home, the absurdity of her oblivion washed over her. She had been forgotten. Forsaken by all she had loved so dearly. They left her, adrift in the mundane expanse of their glamorous lives.
Her husband's name reverberated in her mind. Echoing for a bond that lay broken. A husband who marched to his death for a thankless brother, her children’s screams kept her from a wink of sleep- they who had not once remembered their mother.
She still ached for the ones who abandoned her. She held onto the ghosts of her past so dearly. For letting them go would leave her with nothing but a bitterness to last the end of the days of her life.
Somedays were easier to let go. Days where she imagined not loving them. When she pretended not to wish for a single missive from Mandos. On those days she imagined turning a leaf over. Of not ever talking to them, of holding onto her pride.
But on most days her heart sang for them. For their return, for love they discarded. For her youngest, Argon, or her wild Aeredhel, her responsible Turgon so much like his father, for her Finno who had her wrapped around his little fingers from his first breath.
“I love you still,” her soul would repeat to the void. “Come to me. Return to me this once.” She pleaded the bonds that lay silent. She did not know if they heard her. Or if her pleas were a hindrance in whatever peace they had found.
"They know of your love," a gentle hand wipes her tears that had silently traced their path down her cheeks. You drape a shawl around her shoulders, turning her to face you. "Your love isn't unfelt, dear," your thumb brushes against the dampness on her skin.
Your eyes meet hers, reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun. "They will return to you," you reassured her, just like you always do. And without a single word, you wrap your arms around her. “Love cannot be forgotten. Especially one so potent as yours.”
Your words travel to her in the vibrations of your throat, the beat of your heart, and the warmth of your hands. Her heart leaps at your sight. It clung to you without a second thought. A shared glance, a broken sob, a comforting whisper and it had chosen you.
It was wrong perhaps. A taboo for her marriage bound her to Fingolfin. She loved him, yet, she could not not love you. You, who soothed her angst with the ease of your presence. You are lovely. As every breath is to a drowning person.
She loves you. And for once, she is certain that you love her too. In the same way as her. You love her more than anything. More than any calling. You love her enough to stay next to her. And that is more than anyone.
Not of longing, yearning, or trials of angst. Your love is one of union.