Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

Aistalë stood on the outskirts of Onymë Ennorë, watching as her family prepared to leave. Her heart ached as she saw Maedhros and Maglor, their faces grave, gathering the others for their departure. Caranthir, his wounded arm bound tightly, avoided her gaze, his pride likely more injured than his body. Celegorm and Curufin muttered darkly under their breaths, their resentment palpable. Amrod and Amras remained silent, their usual lightheartedness extinguished by the weight of their banishment.

Aistalë's red hair shimmered faintly in the fading light as she stepped closer to her father Maedhros, her voice soft but laced with sorrow. "I am so sorry," she whispered.

Maedhros gave her a faint smile, his eyes kind despite the tension in the air. "There is nothing to apologize for, Aistalë. You are not at fault." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "We will find our way, as we always have. Your place is here now, with him."

Maglor approached, his harp slung across his back. "We will miss you, Aistalë," he said, his voice like a soothing melody despite the sadness in his tone. "But do not let this weigh too heavily on your heart. You have made your choice, and we respect it."

Aistalë nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. She embraced her father and each of her uncles in turn, lingering the longest with Maedhros and Maglor. As they mounted their horses, she stood frozen, watching them disappear into the dense woods that marked the border of the Avari realm.

The moment they were gone, the full weight of her grief descended upon her. She felt as if part of her heart had been torn away, leaving an emptiness she didn't know how to fill. Turning away from the gate, she walked back to the palace in silence, her steps heavy with sorrow.

Once inside, she went straight to her chambers and locked the door. The walls, which once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed suffocating. She sank onto the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks. The thought of her family—banished from the lands she now called home—was unbearable.

The hours passed, but she did not move. When the knock came at her door, she didn't respond. The knock came again, this time accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Aistalë," Arinyanénar called softly. "Please, let me in."

For a moment, she considered ignoring him, but the concern in his voice tugged at her heart. Rising slowly, she unlocked the door and stepped back, her tear-streaked face meeting his gaze.

Arinyanénar entered, his expression filled with worry. He closed the door behind him and approached her cautiously, as if afraid she might shatter. "I heard what happened," he said gently. "I'm sorry, Aistalë. I know this isn't easy."

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. "They're my family," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And now they're gone because of me."

Arinyanénar reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is not your fault," he said firmly. "Your father and uncles made their choices, and so did we. You had no hand in their banishment."

She shook her head, her copper-red hair falling like a veil around her face. "But I could have done more. I could have stopped it."

"No," he said, his voice steady. "You couldn't have. What happened was the result of years of tension, years of mistrust between our families. You didn't create it, and you couldn't have undone it in a single moment."

She turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "But what if I want to see them again? What if I want to visit Himring?"

Arinyanénar took her hands in his, his grip warm and reassuring. "Then you will go," he said, his tone resolute. "I swear it, Aistalë. If you ever wish to see them, I will not stop you. You are my wife, not my prisoner. Your freedom is yours to keep."

His words broke through the wall of her grief, and for the first time that day, she felt a glimmer of hope. "You would allow that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded. "Of course. I love you, Aistalë, and I will not deny you the right to see your family. Whatever happens, we will face it together."

Aistalë stared at him for a moment, her tears beginning to dry. Slowly, she stepped closer, resting her head against his chest. His arms encircled her, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the weight of her sorrow.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice muffled against him.

Arinyanénar kissed the top of her head, his fiery orange-red eyes soft with affection. "Always," he said simply.

For a long while, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace. The grief in Aistalë's heart didn't vanish entirely, but it lessened, replaced by the warmth of her husband's love and the promise he had made.

Later that night, as the stars twinkled above the forest canopy, Aistalë found herself able to smile again. She knew the path ahead would be difficult, but with Arinyanénar by her side, she felt ready to face whatever challenges the future might bring.