Chapter Text
The first time babies were mentioned, it was a joke in passing. Mairon had spent the evening on edge. Galadriel didn't “like or trust him,” and the feeling was mutual, but nevertheless he had done Celebrimbor the favor of accompanying him to dinner. Celebrimbor had grinned when he returned to Mairon's side after giving Celebrian piggy-back rides. “Thingol and Melian managed one, you know. Just saying, if you were thinking about it.”
Mairon pulled a disgusted face. “And I suppose you're meant to be Thingol in this situation? Good luck ever talking me into your bed again.” Later Celebrimbor had argued very convincingly, popping Mairon's cock out of his mouth only long enough to speak, that he was nothing like Thingol at all, and Mairon had graciously forgiven him the comparison.
He noticed, after that, the way Celebrimbor's eyes often lingered on couples with a little elfling in their arms, or following along on tiny feet, clutching their parent’s hand. Once he caught Mairon watching him and laughed awkwardly. “Precious, isn't he?” He nodded to the little boy sitting on his father's shoulders, grinning widely and holding his hands up towards the fireworks lighting the sky as if he thought he could touch the showers of color.
Mairon tilted his head. “If you say so.”
“Aww, Annatar.” Celebrimbor slung an arm around him and rested his chin on Mairon's shoulder. He was precious, certainly, filling Mairon with an undeniable warmth even away from the thrill of their work in the forge. Mairon began to picture a child with Tyelpë’s eyes and curious fingers, clumsy but eager to learn. He huffed and shook off the ridiculous notion. That wasn't any future of his.
The day Mairon realized he was utterly lost, he and Celebrimbor had finally solved the problem keeping power from flowing properly through the first of their planned set of nine rings. Tyelpë grabbed him and kissed him like Mairon was the very air in his lungs, and Mairon held him, forgetting for once every trace of subterfuge. “I want this forever,” Tyelpë swore when he finally pulled back. “I want you beside me through every age to come. I want to fall asleep at night and wake every morning with you in my arms. I want to design and argue and forge things with you the world could never imagine. I want an heir we can pass all our knowledge to, and to give them what's best of both of us, and—” He paused, and his face fell. “You don't feel the same way. I'm sorry.”
Mairon shook his head. “I love you, Tyelpë.” It hit him with a force he was unprepared to weather. This hadn't been the plan. Everything was restructuring itself in the back of his mind, and he wasn't sure what to do with the knowledge, but he knew it was important. Moreso than anything he’d felt since he lost his Master. “I really do love you.”
Tyelpë opened his arms, and Mairon went into them. “We’ll figure out the rest. You have all the time you need to decide what you want. I didn't mean to make you feel rushed.”
“I know I want to be with you. We’ll figure out the rest.”
*
Mairon thought of all those shining moments as he stood within the volcanic vent in Mordor where he'd set up a temporary forge. The Ring would require every scrap of his Master’s power that he could scrounge, and it was strongest here, in the fire of the earth’s heart. He looked around at the materials he'd spent nigh a hundred years collecting—rare minerals from far-flung lands; vials of blood to mingle with the gold; the single precious ingot he'd brought with him from Eregion that he and Celebrimbor had prepared together, rich with their intertwined Song. Everything was ready now, everything he'd worked for, but he hesitated to begin. The silver ring he’d never taken off glinted on his finger, and he stared at it. Would he still be the same Maia Celebrimbor loved, once he’d poured so much of himself into this work? Would he even recognize himself? He'd never be able to give Tyelpë a child if he broke himself here. Too much of him would go into the Ring. Did that even matter? He'd certainly never intended to bear a child.
No, it was far too late for these worries. He'd return with the Ring, win Tyelpë to his side, and they’d rule the world together in Melkor's name. That was what he wanted. But he couldn't tear his eyes from the band of silver. He remembered the last time he’d seen Tyelpë, the day he'd given it to him.
*
“Are you sure you have to go?”
Mairon nodded solemnly. “I'm sorry, Tyelpë. I still have work to do, and I've lingered too long here as it is.” He hated the necessity of lies, of letting him believe it was the Valar’s errands he left upon, but it had to be. He'd make his One Ring to take control of the rest, prepare Mordor for the struggles that were sure to arise, and then…he tried not to think too hard about what came after. About Tyelpë’s face when he realized… No. He wouldn't call it a betrayal. Tyelpë didn't understand yet, but he would in time, when Mairon rose to his well-deserved place and stood Tyelpë at his right hand. Together they'd bring all the world to order. That's what they both believed in, after all. He refused to acknowledge the niggling voice that insisted Tyelpë wouldn't want it like that, or asked why would you need all those troops if your rule would be so welcome? This was how it had to be. “I promise I'll come back to you.”
Tyelpë smiled. “I'll be waiting, as long as it takes. I'd come with you, if you only said the word.”
“I know you would. But I can't take you from your city, not for so long as my journeys may require. Your people need you here.”
Tyelpë clasped Mairon's hands in his. They'd had this conversation before, and nothing had changed. “Go then, love. Fulfill your service. And when you return—”
“When I return, I'll be ready to speak of our future.”
Tyelpë blushed and slipped his hand into his pocket. “See, the thing is…I rather hoped you might want to make…an agreement before then. I wondered…well…Annatar, when you come home, will you marry me?” He held out a silver ring.
Mairon stared, unsure what to do with the fluttery, nervous warmth spreading through him, but he found himself nodding, and nothing had ever felt so right. “When I come home to you. Yes.”
*
What would Tyelpë think, when he saw the thick gold around Mairon's finger that would complete the system of their rings? Would he believe all their work corrupted? Mairon told himself it was sulfuric fumes that stung his eyes, not tears. He couldn't shut out his doubts anymore. He knew Tyelpë didn't believe in rule by force. That wouldn't change when Mairon offered him command of an Orc army. He’ll come around when he sees what's possible. He has to. And if he didn’t? Was Mairon truly prepared for what that meant? To go to war against his beloved, to cut him down for standing between Mairon and dominion? If his choices were to have the world but give up Tyelpë or to have Tyelpë and surrender all hope of fulfilling Melkor's last wish? He thought of the vision Tyelpë had laid before him, the two of them delighting in making, in offering their knowledge and their art to all comers, a little red-haired boy with Tyelpë’s soft eyes holding their hands as they walked to their forge. Could that ever exist if Mairon followed his plan? We’ll have something better, he insisted, and he imagined himself, seated in his tower, a crown upon his brow and Tyelpë beside him, but even in his daydream, Tyelpë's eyes looked hollow and dead, and a chain was fastened to his throat.
Mairon rode back to Barad-dûr and gave his captains extensive orders for improvements to farms and schools and temples, enough to last the next hundred years, and he packed his bags to go home.
“I have three gifts for you,” he told Tyelpë when they could speak again through tears of joy at their reunion. “I give you myself, and I give you my ring, and I shall give you an heir.”
Tyelpë pulled him closer to his chest. “Love, I know you weren't sure about a baby. You don't have to do that just for me.”
“No, you don't understand. I was away for a hundred years, and it felt like a thousand. I knew I loved you, but I didn't understand how deep it went. I want you to have everything. I want anything that will make you happy. I want to be your family, and I want our family to grow—I can probably only do this once, but I want to do it for you. With you. Let's make a child together.”
Tyelpë’s smile was like light spreading over the horizon to fill the sky, and Mairon knew he'd made the right choice. His only regret was that Tyelpë would never see any face but the new one he'd fashioned for himself here. He could never share his past, the love he had lost in his Master, nor his kingdom in Mordor. But that seemed a small price to pay.