#Sauron fic

[dracowars]

angel | annatar

pairing: annatar x elf!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where annatar fails to protect what is most precious to him

a/n: this man has me in a chokehold, writing for him is so much fun!! thank you for all the love and support on my first annatar one shot, i'm so excited to write more for him in the future. i hope you enjoy this one as well and ily all <3

warnings: angst, manipulation, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, mentions of death, character death

universe: the rings of power

You breathe in relief when you finally reach a clearing, the fresh air blowing through your hair, the sun high in the sky warming your face. Breathing heavily and holding on to the stones at the exit of the cave tunnel you just stumbled through, you leave the protective walls behind you with a few more steps. Your gaze wanders over Eregion, immediately diminishing the short spark of joy you felt. The beautiful city, your home, lies in ruins. Most of the buildings have crumbled or burned beyond recognition and even from up here you can hear the roar of the numerous orcs invading the city. The sun, which brightens yet another day, does nothing to cheer you up. It is merely a reminder of what you have lost in the last few horrifying hours. The night may be over, but the battle is not.

You take a moment to take in the disaster, but hiss when you suddenly feel a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The climb up here has cost you an enormous amount of strength and you can't even formulate a coherent thought anymore. You look down at yourself, your precious dress dirty and torn. Trembling, you remove your hand from the wound on your stomach, where an arrow had pierced your flesh just a few moments ago. You broke it off in agony and tried to stop the blood with your hand, but you continue to lose blood, causing you to stagger a little.

You are not a fighter, you are a simple elf and resident of Eregion. Never in your eternal life would you have expected to see Eregion fall. And its Lord with it.

Celebrimbor has been entirely dedicated to the creation of the Rings of Power. For the past few weeks he has been left in solitude to end what he started. You gave him the time and space he needed. And prayed that he finishes his work before it finishes him, as Lord Annatar put it. But what did all these precautions ultimately lead to? You stood there, watching your only home get destroyed. You stood there, watching your best friend fall to her death by the hand of Celebrimbor. You stood there and let him accuse Annatar of the most atrocious deeds.

Annatar, who sacrificed so much for him, for this city. Annatar, who always helped everyone in need, who did not shy away from standing up against the Lord of Eregion or fighting for the well-being of the elves.

Annatar, who captured your heart.

Which is why you find yourself on top of a mountain right now and not in the middle of a fight for life or death. Celebrimbor's mind is gone. And the proof lies right in front of you, your beautiful, breathtaking Eregion - nothing more than rubble and ashes.

All you knew is that you had to follow him.

'Stay', Annatar told you with his beautiful shining eyes in which you discovered the stars. 'You are safe here.'

You nodded. And still followed him.

And now you understand why you should have listened to him. As you turn around and look into the forest that is at the top of the mountain, you see him standing there, his sword drawn. But he is not alone. At first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, that the heavy loss of blood was confusing your thoughts, causing you to hallucinate, but you actually see Galadriel standing opposite him.

Not only that, they are also surrounded by orcs who are just waiting for the order to attack. An order from none other than Adar, who is slowly walking towards Annatar now as well, with his weapon drawn.

"No", you gasp under your breath, stumbling your way toward them. You take one painful step after the other. They haven't noticed you yet, the trees covering you protectively. Breathing heavily, you lean against a broad trunk, a few steps already exhausting your weak body, Annatar's words wafting over to you more and more clearly the closer you get. You swallow hard, but as you want to turn to them, your gaze is caught by an orc lying dead on the ground, his blade capturing the sunlight breaking through the treetops.

Carefully, you approach the creature and grab its weapon in a swift movement. The handle of the sword feels heavy in your hands and you would rather drop it immediately. But you have to somehow make sure that you can defend yourself if necessary. Once again, you breathe in and move on.

Galadriel and Adar are facing Annatar together now, apparently coming to a silent agreement to focus their attention on Annatar for the time being. Once you realize this betrayal, your weakend heart beats faster. Because how can Galadriel of the Ñoldor, daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin, Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-galad, side with this monster? With the man who is responsible for numerous deaths, for the destruction of Eregion? Whose orcs are currently ravaging an entire city, dividing families and carrying elven souls on their conscience.

Blinking your tears away that well up in your eyes at the thought and sight of it, you try to steady your steps. When you were just a little elf, you looked up to Galadriel, but now you don't recognize her anymore, from the stories you were once told. The only thing that calms you down a little is the fact that Annatar doesn't seem surprised by this turn of events at all. He stands there, his dark armour swallowing the rays of sunshine, his sword lying loosely in his hand. If you didn't know better, you imagine that you can even see a mischievous, knowing smile on his lips from the distance.

In a high arc, Galadriel swings her sword at Annatar and thus opens the fight. Annatar, however, dodges the attack skillfully, making it look like it was not even remotely dangerous for him. In contrast, Galadriel has to parry his blows with great effort. You didn't know that Annatar was such a good fighter, but it seems like he always has a trick up his sleeve.

Even when Adar joins the fight and Annatar now has to dodge two life threatening blades, he is not challenged at all. Although you wonder how long he can keep this up. No matter how good of a fighter he is, immortal or not, the odds are clearly against him. That is why you look around for help, searching for something that could potentially aid him in this battle. However, all you see is a lot of orcs standing at the other end of the clearing, idly watching the spectacle. Fearing that they might spot you, you step back in order to be hidden from their view by the thick trunk of a tree. Or so you hope.

As you move, a branch cracks under your boots. The sound is barely audible, but Annatar's gaze meets yours in an instant and his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes that one split-second glance for him to discover that you are badly injured. That you are bleeding. And that you have disobeyed his words, his direct order.

Although he is only distracted for a tiny second, Galadriel takes this chance and strikes, hitting Annatar's face with the tip of her sword, which inevitably makes you gasp aloud in shock. Now Galadriel and Adar definitely noted your presence, the orcs as well, but you can only watch in silence as a tiny droplet of blood runs from the cut on Annatar's cheek.

"Leave! This is not your fight", Galadriel calls over to you, breathing heavily, her face and golden hair dirty. Her expression screams at you to go. Adar, on the other hand, looks at you with pity. And Annatar looks like he is about to burn the whole world down. In one swift move, he attacks Galadriel again, unable to believe that she has actually shed his blood.

You are forced to tear your eyes away from the fight, however, when you suddenly hear snarling and footsteps on the leaf-covered ground to your left. Your presence on top of the mountain seems to have peaked the orcs' interest.

Sharp pain shoots through your entire body as you lean your back against the tree trunk in order to hide your body from their view. You close your eyes to be able to discern their sounds better, breathing heavily. Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly with both hands, pressing it against your breasts with the blade pointing towards the ground, you stand there completely motionless. At least you try to, but the sword almost slips from your hands, your palms slick with your own blood, making it all the more difficult to hold on to. Your breathing is still louder and faster than you wish and you know that the creatures can smell your blood from miles away anyway.

They talk to each other as they get closer to you, completely ignoring their father's fight in the promising prospect of prey. When they are about to reach the tree behind which you are hiding, a command rings out through the thicket and the orcs look to its source and so do you. Before you can even realize what is happening, however, a blade suddenly pierces through Adar's upper body, causing the orcs to roar loudly. In an instant, they all charge towards the two figures that are still standing, Annatar's sword stained with black blood. To your surprise, not all of the orcs attack their father's murderer; some of them suddenly stab Adar, who has collapsed on the ground, with their own weapons.

They stab him again and again, black blood splattering everywhere. Bile rises in your throat, which you quickly swallow as you turn away from the horrifying sight.

When you hear your name across the clearing, however, you spot Annatar, who comes running towards you, the momentary chaos apparently enabling him to escape from the action as he reaches his hand out to you.

"You need to leave. Now", he orders, but you just shake your head with tear-filled eyes, which earns you a stoic but compassionate and sad look from him. He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn't get the chance when you suddenly see an orc charging towards you. With all your strength, you push Annatar away from you, so that the orc's axe lands in the tree trunk between the two of you. The sudden movement makes you dizzy and you almost fall to the ground if Annatar didn't grab your upper arm in the last second and pulled you up against him. The orc, now dead by his blade, lies to your feet.

The battlefield that stretches out before you is terrible: Adar's lifeless, blood-soaked body lies on the ground, Galadriel has to defend herself against some orcs, but the majority of them are attacking each other, apparently not agreeing on which orders they should follow now that Adar is dead. Some of them come towards you as well, not understanding their dead brother's warning. Annatar quickly grabs your hand and walks ahead, his body serving as a protective shield for you.

If you can't protect yourself, he will have to.

Together you fight your way through the charging orcs, whom Annatar defeats without much effort, so that you find yourself facing Galadriel again. She stands in front of you, dead orcs to her feet, one hand on her hip as she is obviously quite out of breath. When she spots you behind Annatar's back, her eyes widen.

"You're on the wrong side", she whispers through clenched teeth and slowly moves to the right, as if she wants to circle her prey. Annatar squeezes your hand briefly and then lets go so that he can fully concentrate on the fight in front of him. Before that, however, he signals you to move a little farther away, which you do immediately.

"Where are the rings?", he asks her, keeping a close eye on her, waiting for her next move. Meanwhile, you are struggling to ignore how the remaining orcs behind them are still fighting each other to death.

Instead of answering him, Galadriel sprints towards him with a battle cry and their swords meet several times. The force behind it causes Annatar to stumble a few steps backwards, towards you. Your vision is now so blurred, the pain running through your whole body so numbing, that you hardly notice it. You only vaguely perceive Annatar moving on to the next attack. Exhausted, you squeeze your eyes shut in the hope that the fog will clear from your vision. But it is to no avail. Everything is still blurry.

What you do see, however, is a small pouch lying next to the spot where Galadriel and Annatar are currently fighting. Narrowing your eyes, you try to discern what it could be, until Annatar's previous words come to your mind.

The rings. Galadriel must have lost them in the fight without noticing.

Making up your mind, you stumble a few weak, trembling steps towards it, away from the seemingly endless fight. When you reach the small pouch, you fall to your knees and carefully take it in your shaking hands. When you peak inside, several beautiful rings shine at you, enveloping you in their spell for a moment.

A moment it takes for an orc to stand in front of you with his raised blade after spotting you with the rings. A moment in which you can only raise your head and look the beast in the eye. Then his blood splatters everywhere, covering you in it, when his head is suddenly separated from the rest of his body with a clean cut. He would have ended your life here and now. You let out a frightened scream and frantically scramble to stand up when you feel a gentle touch on your arm. Looking deep into Annatar's eyes, you try to thank him for saving your life once again, but your vocal cords are not able to form any coherent words.

Then, everything happens very quickly. Out of the corner of your eye you see Galadriel rushing towards the two of you, her sword drawn. As if time moves very slowly, your gaze wanders to the man in front of you, who is unaware of the impending danger. Because his focus was on you, on protecting you. Without thinking twice, you tug on his arm, pulling him in your direction, and walk towards Galadriel yourself, throwing your beaten body between them.

You exhale in shock as her sword pierces right through your middle.

"NO!", you hear Annatar cry out loudly, anger and sadness mingling in his voice which breaks at the end. Galadriel, who is just as shocked as you are, stands in front of you with tears in her eyes. Her hand around her sword is trembling.

"I- I-", she stammers, but doesn't get much further as Annatar pushes her away with so much force that she flies through the air. She hits the ground and remains there, motionless. Gasping for breath, you fall to the ground as well, no longer able to hold yourself upright. Involuntarily, your hand goes to where the sword is still sticking out of you.

It hurts. It hurts so much that you can't even shed a tear, your breath catching in your throat. Black dots appear in your vision, covering the blue sky like stars. But then Annatar's face appears in front of you and they suddenly disappear.

"Stay with me. You hear me? Don't go", he shouts at you as he kneels next to you and bends over your fragile body, gently lifting you so that he can place your head on his lap. "No, no, no", he whispers quietly to himself, his hand wandering over your upper body without touching it, as if he could only do more damage otherwise.

You can't do anything but lie there, your throat too dry to choke out another word. The sun shining from behind Annatar's head makes him look like an angel, bringing a gentle smile to your chapped lips. With a trembling hand you lift the little pouch, which you still had in a firm grip, up to him.

Annatar's eyes widen and as soon as he feels the rings in his hand, he discards them. He feels your willpower leaving. Desperate for help, he looks around, thinking about how he could help you, how he could save you. But Galadriel is gone, with her one of the elven rings which might have given you a slim chance of survival. And he can't use the Nine because he personally made sure that they were corrupted.

"Why would you do that?", he asks you now, sounding so defeated, not understanding how you could give your life for his so thoughtlessly. If only you had known that he is not easy to kill, that his immortality cannot be threatened by a simple sword.

And yet here you are, on your way to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor.

"You can't leave me", Annatar says almost reproachfully, his hand gently stroking your still soft hair. His eyes, which look deep into yours, are getting glassier each moment. He simply can't accept that you are leaving him now, that you are leaving him alone, the only person who ever truly cared for him. Who made his cold heart of stone a little warmer, a little softer.

You were supposed to be his. His and only his forever.

"Leithio nin¹", your weak voice whispers in Sindarin, your hand searching for his and finally enveloping it on top of your slow beating heart. You tell him to release you, to release you from this pain, and yet he can't fathom how he should ever be able to let you go.

"I will bring you back. We will meet again, I will make sure of that. I promise. Even if I have to burn down the whole of Middle-earth just to see you again", he says, giving you one last promise which you consider with a small smile, your eyes heavy. You look at him closely one more time, to memorize his face for eternity, your trembling hand reaching for him. Before you can touch him one last time, feel his soft skin beneath your fingertips, your eyes close forever.

"Gi melin²", Annatar sobs, the words following you along on your journey before your last breath finally leaves you and your body goes limp in his arms. He puts his forehead against yours, pulling you as close to him as possible, rocking you, and a single tear finds its way down his cheek.

After just a few seconds, the sadness inside him mixes with anger. With unrelenting, burning anger. He will make everyone suffer for his loss.

He meant every word he said. He will bring you back, no matter what it takes.

And the One Ring will help him.

¹ Release me

² I love you

[pursuitseternal]

Hello my partner-in-crime!

Could I pretty please have Sauron x Reader with prompt number 7: "Can you feel how much I want you?"

Love you! ❤️😘

“𝕿𝖔 𝕭𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊…”

First Age Sauron x f!Reader | Dead Dove | 3.7K

Summary: There is no hope in Angband, in the dungeons of the Dark Vala…. But there is the Servant. Sauron.

A master craftsman and artist, forever seeking perfection, obsessed with creating his own beauty, and yet a victim of torment by his master that twists his sense of creativity to something vile and precious only to him.

CW: Dead dove: Do Not Eat, graphic violence, torture porn, bondage, temperature play, forge sex, corruption, marking branding biting, mind breaking, mind control, body worship, First Age Sauron, if evil why (literally) hot

Ao3 link | Tolkien Masterlist

You can see your breath, hear your heart beating slower and slower with each passing hour. Languishing. A slow death. A painful death. A merciless one that meant to break you without hope.

There is no hope in Angband.

Even the floors here are ice. Not even prison rats scurry around your cell. Your pointed ears have long grown deaf to the noises of the dungeon, numb from the icy chill of this evil frozen North. The chains on your neck and wrists have long since frozen to your skin. Death will be a relief, you sigh, when once again you’ll see the shores of Valinor and find comfort in the Halls of Mandos.

That thought makes your heart warm just enough to last a few more beats. But then you hear them—footsteps—lighter than Orc, more graceful than Balrog… and your body stiffens as you hear that sound on the icy air.

Humming. Music. Means one thing. Ainur.

Please not the Dark Lord, you beg to divine forces too far away to hear you. Your pleas have fallen on deaf ears. But you hope not this time.

“Do not fear,” that voice croons from the shadows. His presence seems to instantly thaw your extremities, warmth seeping in where there had only been cold for so, so long. You see eyes and movement in the darkness, but from his stature and bearing, you know it’s not the Lord of Angband…

It is the Servant.

His gaze is sharp, eyes darting over your crumpled mess of a body nearly frozen to the floor. His hair is bright; reds like blood and oranges like flames hang in long waves down his back and shoulders. His voice seems to tickle right in your ear, even at this distance, even as he stalks closer towards the bars of your cell. “Do not fear, I’m here to free you.”

“Wh-what?” You croak, the truth of those words do not deceive you, no matter how much you long for them to be true.

Those lips twitch as with a wave of his hand, the iron door swings open, the groaning hinges echoing against stone. “Well,” he suddenly sounds sharp, exacting, “free you from your cell, Elf. You are by no means free, not in body or in will, nor will you ever be again.”

Reality smacks you, your chest constricting.

“The Dark Lord has no need of such a small, frail Elf like you,” he strides in, grasping your chin in fingers impossibly hot. His touch sears like the fires of the forge, the stink of brimstone and smoke fill your nose. “You’d make a weak, pathetic Orc.” Then he shoves you by your face back to the ground at his feet. Your manacled hands catch yourself just in time to keep your nose from smashing against stone.

“Fortunately, what is unfit to serve the Master is deemed worthy of his Servant,” that voice returns to such silken, lilting tones, and you look into his face. His bright brown eyes rake over you, assessing and evaluating your worth, as if you were a precious gem examined for the flaws in your cut.

Those eyes, the more you stare into them, the brighter they seem to shine, a mix of golden browns that bubble and simmer with flame. You see them, the ripples of his power that creep beneath this disguise of a mortal form. “Come,” he orders you, those frozen irons and chains melting from your skin to clatter on the floor around you. “There is much work to be done.”

His grip on your wrist tightens, and you realize with certainty that his skin is hot… flushed and searing you by touch alone. It would frighten you, if it wasn’t for the sense of reprieve it gives from the biting cold that has settled in your bones from your imprisonment. If anything, you draw your scantily clad body closer to his, seeking that thawing sensation…his black robes barely brush your flesh, The bared skin of your arms, even patches of your torso where your gown has shredded to rags with violence and time crave to be nearer.

It feels so… good. After so long in the cold alone, to feel another’s touch, it makes you melt. He guides you through the dark, and even though your jaw aches from that fleeting ferocity in your cell, you can’t help but wish for more warmth shared against your skin.

The memory should terrify you but… it doesn’t. Your mind only remembers how good those fingers felt, their warmth, their command…

And you crave more against your better judgment. You would call it hope, but there is no hope in Angband. No hope. Only craving. As if you know that the only thing that awaits you is fire and blissful burning.

Shadows deepen as you walk, those brown-orange eyes flicker at you beside him as you both ascend the darkened stairs. That scent of smoke and ashen stone that clings to his skin suffocates you. Your frail lungs burn with every inhale, and as you reach the ascent, you see why.

No ice prison, he’s brought you to a massive forge. Torches burn and flicker, but no light is brighter than the gaping maw of a furnace. Orange flame reflects in his eye as he scans you. Grip deathly tight on your wrist, he leads you with graceful movements… lithe and sinuous. Like a snake.

Like a predator stalking his prey.

The faintest of smiles turns his full lips, and he stops you beside a great metal anvil… wide and long and big enough for any great creation. You recall the tales of such things from those of your kind who had come from Valinor, from the workshops of Aulë himself, or of Fëanor and his descendants.

It is on this warm, dark metal that he effortlessly lifts you up to seat you. Its surface is roughened with divets and grooves, the scars of the Servant’s work spanning its face. That relaxing heat creeps through the skin of your ass and climbs your spine until you feel a smile stretch on your cracked lips.

His fingers wander their soothing touch over your collarbone, the slightest push guides you to lay back on the heated anvil. You stare into the ceiling, seeing only the gathering darkness offset by rippling steam and flickering light. His touch continues to dance on your chest, tracing the parts of you where starvation has prodded your bones towards the surface.

And that sharp face, that handsome face, smiles… so warmly. “The Dark Lord insists that we each are forged in the shadows, that what has once been bathed in the light is made anew in the dark. Morgoth’s way is to maim… to ruin and torture and kill the light of beings he drafts into his service…”

You see a flicker behind his eyes, a memory of his own past perhaps, you surmise. A recollection none too pleasant as it darkens his gaze and stiffens the corners of his smiling lips.

Then, he turns that smile down upon you, spread so perfectly on his anvil. “But such is not my way. I am no jailer or executioner. I am an artisan, a craftsman of greatest skill, and I shall make you anew, my treasure.”

His fingers trace your gaunt face, warming it, caressing the spots that have grown stiff and lined with fear. His voice is dulcet, sweet and singsong as he purrs down, and you want nothing more than to feel those full, smirking lips on your skin and taste the sweet promises that drip from his tongue. Before you even realize your need, before you can name your inner burning as desire, two words fall from your panting mouth. “My Lord…” you whisper.

And the Servant smiles. It’s radiant, a flash of brightness in his eye and a brilliance to his grin. But he tuts his tongue, chiding you for the youthful creation you are. “Tsk, none of that. I am no Dark Lord. I am called many things… Admirable, Abominable… Gorthaur… Sauron…”

His hands come to rest at the top of your throat, a slight pressure around your neck as his thumb traces your lower lip.

“But you, my treasure, you shall call me by one simple word…. Hîr.”

Master.

Your breath catches in your burning lungs, your tongue already noiselessly testing out the syllable as it dances at its tip.

His reddish brows arch, pleased at your submission as he can see every little twitch of your mouth.

“You are a rare beauty,” he whispers, “the undiluted blessing of the One shines in the skin of the Elves, their eyes still bright with the memory of the Two Trees…”

He peers into yours, almost wistful, as if he longs to catch a glimpse of that Starlight to capture for his own. Sauron lowers his mouth, hovering just out of reach of your own lips. The scent of his forge is so strong, you can taste it, you are lost in the wash of his singeing breath on your face. “Hîr,” you obediently rasp, arching off the anvil to catch his lips.

And he lets you, lips and tongue so overwhelmingly warm, there is no sensation in your body other than his mouth as he devours.

Wave after wave of his mouth on yours, you fail to sense the snaking of chains around your arms and legs until they have chinched themselves bitingly hard into your flesh. Then you panic, your heart thundering no longer from pure arousal, but that wild rhythm of racing fear. You tug at them, fight them, and with one last desperate plea, you beg for Manwë, Varda… Eru himself to hear you.

But there is no rescue, no whisper of a reply to your prayers.

There is only Sauron’s shimmering toothy smile in the dark as his eyes dance over your form… spread so perfectly for him to work with. “Do you know, my treasure, why I’ve loathed the beauty of the Elves? Eru chose to bless you, to gift your kind the wisdom and graces first given only to me, to my kind… and you squander them. You cannot fathom, cannot see the greater purpose such power could serve.”

He’s pacing between your body and his tools, spread so evenly and orderly beside him. A long iron brand in his grip, he sticks it in the opening of the furnace.

The hissing of metal heating makes you shiver. Makes your skin crawl.

Fingers pull away the rest of your rags, baring every bit of your taut skin to his flickering gaze. “You are beautiful, but it is shallow, it is false. And I, my treasure, will purify you. I’ll remake you in my image and likeness, a thing of incomparable radiance ....” You whine as his hands wrap their warmth around your breasts. “You now are a thing to be admired… as I once was,” he croons down at you, pulling your ass to the edge of the anvil, your chain impossibly tight around your arms, breaking you in their unyielding hold as your legs hang down precariously.

Those lips press searing kisses down your neck, over the places where your mortal heart is thundering. His eyes flash up at you, and in that moment, you swear you see the reflection of the furnace beside you. Or perhaps it is more… the power that lies barely concealed in this handsome, sensual form. Those full lips wrap around one nipple, then the other, an inferno drummed up at his call races through your veins.

It is agony, hot and wild, that courses in your flesh. Never would one of your kind be so… wanton. Lust feeds your form, every bit of your skin wants to be touched… and the more he caresses your breasts and trails his mouth lower over the hollow of your belly, the less you care if that contact is pleasure… or pain.

They are one under his command, your mind purrs to your reason. Every thought reduces to the mere sensation of his mouth, his hands that press now between your spread thighs. The moment his tongue touches you, parting your folds to taste you, an unholy sound tears from your lips. Flames pulse through your veins, every lick and swirl of his tongue draws ungodly ecstacy. You weep for the feeling, the overwhelming waves of pleasure he coaxes from your nearly-broken body as if he drew your very soul, your fëa, to the surface.

Words tumble from your lips, nonsensical and varied in language until it is one word over and over again. You rasp it, cry it, scream it as he brings you right to the edge of your climax… Hîr… Hîr… Master.

His laughter tickles your flesh and your mind all at once, the sensation of his presence in your skull and his tongue in your walls throws you into oblivion. Your climax slams into you, all fire and heat and tension as he withdraws from you in that moment of bliss. Your chain grows impossibly tighter as you convulse on the metal beneath you, and for a split second, you wonder where he has gone….

At first you think it’s the ice of your prison again that slices through the warm pool of pleasure in your belly. But then, you open your eyes… it is not ice but white hot fire on your skin as his brand marks your inner thigh. The hissing, the steam, the scent of charming flesh takes over your pleasure, stealing it from your body. And all the while, he smirks down from between your soaked thighs. Orange hair catches the glow of the brand as he lifts it, a satisfied glint in the flames of his own gaze.

Fear races down your nerves, every corner of your being screams at you to fight, to run and resist… the pain almost breaks through those tendrils of shadow that have woven into your senses. And now, as you inhale, you can smell it.

Death. Ashen and purifying. You see him, eyes ringed in flame and breath blackened like smoke… your heart could burst from your need to resist…

Until you feel his hands on your skin again, that warmth somehow driving the dread back into the recesses of your mind.

That teasing touch traces the prongs of his mark, three of them, ugly and deformed, a perversion of the pronged crown that rests on the Dark Lord, the Dark Vala’s head.

Your body shakes with the shock of pain, even as he presses his lips to kiss that angry flesh. “Ninya,” he whispers against it. Mine.

The pain intensifies as he removes his touch, the euphoria of your climax dulling to leave you with only the searing agony he’s caused in its wake. “Mine, and like me, you shall be remade from admirable to abominable… and I will always possess you.”

The sound of liquid swirls in glass, the soft tapping of a brush against its rim… he stands over you, eyes roaming your bared form and lingering on the places he deems most worthy… or is it unworthy?

“The light of the Valar still shines too brightly on your skin, so soft almost like pearls of the Sea… it too shall have to be remade,” he rasps. The black bottle in his hand coming closer, the wooden brush wiping the excess fluid before he brings it to your legs.

The bite of acid eats at your skin, burning you, tearing you inside out. That music in his voice invades your mind, warping the pain into a warm sort of pleasure. Every drip of acid on your flesh as he paints higher and higher… your thighs, your belly… it shifts into that hot coil of need roiling behind your navel.

He doesn’t slather you, he’s not destroying you… it’s painstaking and exact the way he draws into your skin, making it burn and hiss and bubble anew. Remaking. Whirls and swirls and swipes in the precise places his critical eye deems worthy.

It’s agony… blissful agony… Every scream from your throat breaks into a moan. The perversion of your pain into bliss brings a drugged sort of grin to your face. The grin of a fool.

He sets the brush back inside the bottle, his hand tracing the rises and valleys of your face, your sharpened cheekbones, the hollows of your cheeks. His fingers dance on your wincing face, warm and burning, a herald of the pain you know he’s about to inflict. Your heart will surely explode, and your death might just be the final offering you make… But then, he cups your cheek, fingers laced in the mess of your long and knotted hair.

“Don’t be afraid, my treasure. You are being oh so brave… oh so valiant as you are remade.” His kiss instantly numbs your pain and slows your heart, the torture of resistance in your mind instantly silenced. That coil of need flames anew as his hand wanders back over your mound, dipping that addictive touch into your slick.

You gasp, eyes rolled back, spine arching off the anvil’s metal. Then you look into his face, the abyss of fire and darkness behind his eyes sucks you inside, lost to anything but the sensations of his fingers that tease you and torture you in a different way. A more pleasing way.

His fingers slide so easily, playing you like an instrument in his grasp. Your moans are the melody of his composing, the bucking of your hips keeps a steady rhythm, one perfectly timed to the thrust of his fingers. His mouth on yours once more, the biting of his teeth on your lips, the growls of his own pleasure in his throat form a counterpoint so intoxicating, there is nothing left but the music of him finger fucking you.

All that pain that is bound in your nerves and coiled in your belly bursts… white hot and violent as you come. Then, you scream until your voice cracks, until your vocal chords are fried from the force and volume he demands from your spent form.

“Good, my treasure…” he rasps against your lips as they fall silent. “Ninya… you’ve done so well,” he purrs into your pointed ear as the world grows dark to your vision, as your body gives in and falls unconscious. Those little praises bring a twisted smile to your face as you drift into oblivion. “When you wake, you’ll be mine alone, mine forever… the most beautiful abomination I have yet crafted…”

And the final sensation to pierce through the veil of your slumber is the sting of acid on your forehead and cheek… the flicker of pain plunging you completely into the darkness at long last.

There is no hope in Angband… There is also no time. Only darkness and craving. Hunger and satisfaction.

Pain. And pleasure.

It’s a lesson you are taught nightly, at least you assume it’s nightly… whenever it is that Sauron returns to his chambers where you are kept sequestered away. The chains from his forge are gone, replaced with elegant links of gold and gem-entrusted trappings that hang on your frame. Your hands fiddle with them, where they drape down your arms in layers, where they sweep over your bare skin to your middle.

You’ve long forgotten the feeling of clothes. There is only the bed and your elegant chains, the heat of his touch and the sting of his biting teeth and burning brand and lashing whips.

You wish that your memories would dim… that the burden of your elven heritage would forsake you as easily as that fair, starkissed body you once called your own. Tears prick your eyes, your own fingers steadily tracing your once soft skin, touch dancing over blade scars and the rough ridges of his burning… the brands of his possession forever glaring at you from your thighs, not unlike those ghostly flickering eyes that haunt you each day… whether Sauron visits you or not.

“Mairaza…” the whisper brushes your mind before it settles in your ear. “My precious…” you’ve learned his new tongue… this speech he’s created for his servants, for you.

The warmth of his body seeps into you from behind, that scent of fire, of ash and smoke and forge excites you now… it conjures that swirl of damp heat in your cunt. Already you grit your teeth, craving in excess, hungering for more. The thin chains of gold and jewels clink and jingle as those calloused hands caress your body. He lingers over his marks, the scars of his pleasure-pain that have molded you into his own creation.

“Can you feel it, Mairaza, can you feel how much I want you?”

You clench around nothingness, hoping beyond hope that he fills you soon and grants you release this time.

Soft words of his own invented tongue purr inside your brain, praising your scars, the healed-over bubbles of flesh from that day he claimed you…

Sauron turns you, your attention lost in the bottomless depth of his eyes as those magical fingers caress the scars that curve in serpentine shapes over your cheeks. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he rasps. “Can you feel how much I want you, body and soul?” his lips whisper against your own. “Can you feel how much you are mine, Ninya?”

The words do not come to you outloud; they flood your very being, racing to your awareness down the tether that binds you to him.

That taste of his mouth swallows you whole, and there is nothing left of hope and peace. All that remains is the fire of lust and the darkness of desire. You cannot escape, nor would you seek to anymore. No lies or deception are required any longer, for you feel his want and crave his attentions…

He is always in your mind, his marks always on your body… his greatest creation. For now.

A gift to @myfavouritelunatic for her ask, for @marimosalad for betaing and inspired by @ogyscrypt and his masterpiece of a nsfw audio you should totally check out… Link on Reddit

[fannyspammy]

OK BUT WHEN ANNATAR WAS TELLING BRIMBY ABOUT THE PAIN HE EXPERIENCED?????? I could SMELLLLLL the SADIST & MASOCHISTIC FANFICS BREWING IMMEDIATELY

[storiesaplenty]

Coercion (18+)

Annatar (Sauron) x gn/Reader

The Rings of Power Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings. Smut under the cut. Oral. Cum swallowing. Use of a blindfold. coercion by Annatar

WC: 822

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Annatar calls for his favourite elf to come & see him, but it isn't to help with the last remaining rings.

"You called for me, Lord Annatar?" Their soft voice said to me.

I looked over my shoulder at the sound of their voice, already knowing that they were here.

The doors closed behind them, leaving the two of us alone.

I turned around to look at them, looking them up and down.

They were the most beautiful elf I have ever seen, and today is finally the day I make them mine.

I knew that Adar was coming any day now, and I did not have much time.

"Yes I did, now please have a seat." I pointed to the chair that I wanted them to sit in.

I took the seat across from them.

"I have noticed the wonderful work you have done with the rings, and I wanted to say thank you." I said to them, and I could see them trying to keep a smile off their face.

From what I gathered about them, was that their mother was an elf, and their father was a mere man.

Celebrimbor took pity on them, being a half-ling and all, and took them under his guidance.

They were kind of how should I say, flighty. Their human side seeming to take over more than the elf side.

"I am just doing what is asked of me my Lord." They said.

"I know, and I noticed. You always do each task without any complaints, and that is why I have brought you here to help me with one special task."

"Anything Lord Annatar." How sweet of them to be so eager to help me.

I felt my cock twitch under the fabric I am wearing.

"I have a message from the Valor, but I can not access it without someone who is a true believer."

"I am a true believer, but you have never had issues before."

They were confused.

How cute.

I stood up, walking around them in the seat, slowly.

"This message is of top priority, and as such, it comes to me in a different way. Now, will you help me or not?"

"Yes, Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now I need you to wear this blindfold." I placed a blindfold in their hand, and they looked at me, and then back at the blindfold.

"A bright, white light will appear and I do not wish any harm to come to you. Now, please put it on."

They did as I asked, and I did a few hand movements to make sure that they couldn't see anything.

"Now, I need you on the floor, on your knees, hands firmly in your lap."

I started to remove my clothes as they did as I asked.

My cock in my hand, as I jerked it up and down.

"Now, this part may be odd, but please know that it will not last long, and that this needs to be done to get the full message."

"Yes Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now keep your mouth open." I said as I placed the tip of my cock in their mouth.

I watched them carefully to see how they would react as I started to push my hips forward.

"You're doing so well." I said, my breath almost catching in my throat as they took me inch by inch down their throat.

"Now, this part may be a bit rough, but do not move away. We need to stay connected for this message to come through."

I pulled my hips back, leaving just the tip in their mouth before thrusting forward, making them choke just a bit around my cock, but they didn't move.

Not even when I put my hands on the back of their head and held them there was a fucked their face and mouth.

I made no sounds as I wanted them to believe that I was actually concentrating on trying to get a message from the Valor.

But I knew I was close.

I could feel my balls tense up, my thrusting was becoming erratic.

"Now, some liquid will come out, but I need you to swallow it." Was all I got before I came down their throat.

They quickly swallowed it all, not wasting a single drop.

I step back and they were trying to breathe through their nose as I quickly got dressed.

I took my seat once more. "You may take the blindfold off."

I watched as their confused eyes landed on me.

"Did you get the message my Lord?" They asked as they licked their lips, probably wondering what just happened.

"Yes, you did wonderful. I knew you were the Elf for the job."

A smile came over their face.

"Now, once you leave here, do not tell the others what has happened. No one else needs to know how special you are."

They stood up, and I dismissed them

I watched them as they left my room.

Now, how do I get them in my bed?

Part 2

[honeyfarts666]

An Ocean of Tears

A Sauron Redemption Fic

Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Animal Friends, Secret Child

Chapter 1: Prolog: A Begining Centuries in the Making  Chapter 2: Odd Companions Chapter 3: A Young Adventurer Chapter 4: The Wanderer Child  Chapter 5: A Procession of Elves Chapter 6: A Great Adversary Chapter 7: The Last Day in Rivendell Chapter 8: The Arrow Chapter 9: Don't Let Go

New! Chapter 10: A Brief Reunion on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

Torture Before the Sublime a smutty "deleted scene" (Also I made a mood board for Halbrand’s Garden)

Chapter Excerpt:

Halbrand rose slowly. He had no desire to startle her but the two of them were too far away to have a proper conversation. And that was what he needed to happen: a proper conversation. It was impossible to avoid now.

With slow, cautious steps, he walked toward them. At that moment, part of him wished he had fled before Galadriel woke. He had saved her life but, knowing her, that would do nothing to improve her mood.

@helenvader @rebelrebelwrites @coraleethroughthelookingglass @restless-tides @ringsofpowerfans @starladyy @perplecta @shia-the-buff @klynnvakarian @eowyn7023 @ringsofpowersource

Halbrand had imagined his reunion with Galadriel thousands of times in thousands of ways. Sometimes in a deep forest, the golden leaves of autumn falling around them like stars burning with enough passion to match their own. Sometimes it was on a battlefield in the Land of Ash, smoke twisting and concealing until they finally found each other. Sometimes in his home in the Greenwood where she would find him toiling away for the good of everyone but himself. And sometimes in the little garden where they last parted ways, the babbling stream soothing their hurts and time mending their hearts. He yearned for their reunion. But, in his soul, he couldn’t escape the reality that she would never trust him, even if she did love him.

In all his years of longing, he had never once dreamed it would be like this.

He watched as Estion ran to Galadriel and threw his arms around her. She tenderly brushed the hair from his face and held him gently. He didn’t dare breathe lest he disturb their reunion. The sight was more powerful and moving than anything he had ever witnessed. More lovely than Telperion and Laurelin. More brilliant than the Silmarills. More divine than even Luthien herself! This beautiful, radiant woman had given him a child as beautiful as she. He had never felt more unworthy but he never wanted the sight before him to end.

The moment shattered when Galadriel saw him. Her body language instantly changed. Her eyes grew wide with fear. She pulled Estion closer and wrapped her arms around him protectively. Estion also noticed the change in her. He glanced between Galadriel and Halbrand, failing to see the danger that she saw. “Mother!” Estion said with annoyance as he attempted to free himself from Galadriel’s iron grip. “It’s okay! He’s my friend.”

“Your friend?” Galadriel asked incredulously.

Halbrand rose slowly. He had no desire to startle her but the two of them were too far away to have a proper conversation. And that was what he needed to happen: a proper conversation. It was impossible to avoid now.

With slow, cautious steps, he walked toward them. At that moment, part of him wished he had fled before Galadriel woke. He had saved her life but, knowing her, that would do nothing to improve her mood. He sat down again a few feet away from them, his heart pounding and his mind racing. He folded his too-long limbs, cursing every choice he made when forming his body. Curse his pride! Curse his naivety! Curse his panging heart! He had no idea what he was going to say. What could he say that wouldn’t instantly set off the fire that also burned in her? He managed to mutter, “How is your shoulder?” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Stiff,” was Galadriel’s hoarse response. Her wide eyes were glued to him, never leaving him even for an instant.

It was too much for Halbrand. He could barely meet her eye for a second let alone hold her gaze. He took a shuddering breath, “So…”

“So…” Galadriel replied.

He managed to look at her for a moment. There was a soft blush spreading down her cheeks. It seemed that she was embarrassed too. That at least was a small comfort to Halbrand. Though his shame was certainly much deeper than hers. He was the one who had left her. He was the one who abandoned her and their child. He scratched his neck, anything to fill the awful silence that stretched on like the void.

Estion wouldn’t stop glancing between them. He had sat with Estion all night until the boy had fallen asleep. He couldn’t believe how easily Estion trusted him. The boy didn’t hesitate at all when he curled up in Halbrand’s arms and drifted into the world of dreams. He had imagined such a moment. The weight of his child resting against his chest. Feeling his breath come in and out in that steady rhythm. He hadn’t slept a wink. He didn’t dare. Only Eru knew if he would ever have the chance to hold Estion again. He didn’t think it was likely. Not with Manwë’s judgment looming ever nearer.

A thought occurred to him in the dark of the night. A vision came into his mind of a glorious palace, glowing with the light of the sun. He stood in the grand hall adorned in robes of gold and white. And next to him, stood Estion, a few years older and a few inches taller. He could not hear any words spoken, but in the vision, Estion looked at him with rapturous devotion. As any son would regard his beloved father.

At least, so he imagined. He had no idea what the relationship between fathers and sons was supposed to be. He recalled a distant memory, from his days in Valenor, when he had spied upon Fëanor and Finwë. The affection Finwë had for Fëanor was plain to see. Jealousy had run deep in his veins that day. Not only was Fëanor’s feeble smith work prized above his own, but he also had the bond of family guarding him, caring for him, loving him.

Illuvatar framed himself as the father of the Maia and Valar. But Illuvatar was a higher being. A being more unfathomable to him than the Valar were to mortal men. He had never felt loved by Eru. Only favored or, more often, unfavored. It was a cold relationship if it even existed at all. And the Valar’s complete ban on sexual relations between Maia only made matters worse. Marriages were only permitted upon approval. The Valar preferred for their servants to be available to them, not tending to their own families. Aulë, in particular, rarely allowed his acolytes to wed. It was a solemn existence driven by lonely, stoic devotion. Never building for himself, but only for the glory of a god who didn’t even recognize his personhood.

Morgoth reveled in fornication. He loved to assign who was to fuck whom. He particularly loved to breed new, unspeakable creatures. The Valar would have never guessed but Angband was filled to the brim with children. From orcs to dragons to werewolves, all servants of the Dark Lord spawned new generations of slaves. But Morgoth had never allowed a child to take root in any of Sauron’s partners. No, he would not allow such a child. Perhaps Morgoth was worried it would have inspired notions of grandeur in Sauron. More likely, he thought, it was Morgoth’s unrelenting fear of Luthien. Half-Maia. Half-Elf. Luthien was unlike any other creature in Arda. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be so powerful and neither had Morgoth. After the theft of the Silmarill, the Dark Lord performed his anger but in his heart, he became terrified of what the half-breeds could wreak upon him.

Now, after so many centuries of solitude, Halbrand had a family. A child and a woman who, though she wasn’t his wife, depended on him. The heavy burden of this new position weighed on him. He felt a drive to provide for them everything they needed or could ever want. He had told Galadriel he would make her a queen. No she-elf would have been so radiant in a crown of light. Nor any of them so deserving as she. And he would make their son a prince. They would never sleep in the dirt again. Nor would anyone dare whisper against them.

In his heart, he was tempted. It would be so easy. He wouldn’t even have to take the ring. He could guide Estion to do everything. It would be his kingdom, after all. The boy had already proved himself a natural magician. With him to guide Estion and Galadriel to temper them, they would rule Middle Earth with grace and dignity, ushering in a new age of peace and enlightenment.

Halbrand’s grip around Estion’s arm tightened and he swallowed hard. He wanted that future. He wanted his family to be safe and secure. He wanted them to have the high positions they so deserved. Halbrand released a shuddering breath. It was all he could do to stop the sob that threatened to ring out from his soul. He knew that future could never be. Galadriel had made that clear long ago. His constant quest for power was what frightened her the most. She would never allow their son to be pulled into any plot of his. Estion looked so much like him. Maybe there were other similarities between them. Maybe Estion was also susceptible to the sway of darkness. Maybe Galadriel was right to keep his terrible influence away from their son.

None of it mattered; Manwë would find him soon.

Estion had woken with the first light of dawn. He seemed startled at first like he didn’t remember where he was. But when they met eyes, Estion smiled and relaxed. He stretched and twisted. And then he was up and ready for the new day. He had an unrelenting spirit. The boy had been through so much hardship yet he was the most joyful and curious creature Halbrand had ever known. They spent much of the early morning watching a procession of ants carry food to their hill. Estion cheered them on and left them bits of his meager breakfast. When Halbrand gave the ants some of his own food, Estion gave him a smile that could have melted all the snow in the frozen north.

Halbrand wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. To pull the boy into his embrace and say the words, “You are my son!” But he restrained himself. What for, he couldn’t say. Manwë would arrive at any moment and then he would never see Estion again. Yet, each time he looked at Galadriel, still asleep on the clearing floor, he knew he could not betray her. Not again. He would abide by her wishes even to his own doom.

Yet, now that she was awake, he doubted she would give him his heart’s desire.

Estion glanced between them, turning his head back and forth to study each of them. Eventually, he said, “I met him in the Greenwood. When… I used your ring.” With that, he pulled Nenya from his finger and placed it in Galadriel’s hand. As he did, it seemed to Halbrand that an imperceptible ringing ceased. Whatever unintentional magic Estion had used to guard the grove had ended. It sent a shiver through Halbrand and made him feel exposed.

Galadriel examined the ring before slipping it back onto her finger. “Yes, that’s right,” she murmured. “You’ve been playing with things that are not toys.”

“I know! I’m sorry!” Estion cried. “I didn’t mean to. I just put it on and it took me to the Greenwood and then I found Halbrand.”

Galadriel paused for a moment, clearly thinking through her words carefully. “And what did you talk about in the Greenwood?” She glanced back to Halbrand. She was trying to figure out how much Estion knew. Halbrand felt his cheeks warming into a blush. Just as he suspected, no trust remained between them.

“Mostly about Teonwer the cat,” Estion quickly replied, not picking up on Galadriel’s subtle tones. “And then Halbrand told me about being a Maia.”

Galadriel’s eyebrows raised in alarm. But before she could say anything, Estion cut in, “He’s a different Halbrand! I think the ring must have mixed them up. Because, when I put the ring on, I was thinking about how I wanted to find my father. But the ring brought me to this Halbrand instead.”

Halbrand didn’t know what to make of Estion’s words. A different Halbrand? Unless… He glanced back to Galadriel. Her cheeks burned bright red, and her eyes glistened with a sensation that he was all too familiar with: shame. And then the realization hit him. This stubborn elf had only told their son half of the truth! She told Estion that his father was a mortal man. To be fair, she had believed he was a mortal when Estion was conceived. But it did not erase her lie.

“I had no idea there were so many Halbrands walking Arda,” Halbrand laughed. “If I had known, perhaps I would have chosen a different name.”

Galadriel stiffened at his tone and pulled Estion close again. “You have many names,” she said harshly. “I believe Deciever is one.”

Halbrand set his jaw. She was testing him. Pushing him. Punishing him. She wanted him to snap, to shout, and show his anger. To show what he truly was. She wanted her worst suspicions confirmed so she could be done with him for good. She would have to try harder.

“The same could be said of you, Galadriel,” he murmured.

Galadriel lifted her chin and straightened her back. “What else was I to do?” She shot at him, “You left me with little choice.”

Halbrand took a heavy breath. He needed to release his pride or she would never forgive him. He looked to the heavens. Through all the long years of his solitude, he had come to believe that Eru had not abandoned him. That the light of the One may yet favor him again. He was not one for prayers but with his soul, he cried out for guidance. Then he looked at Estion. The boy’s face was turned into a frown, clearly perplexed by the conversation happening around him. He looked confused and unsure and perhaps a bit frightened. A mirror image of his mother.

Halbrand sighed, “Well, what do you choose now?”

Galadriel furrowed her brow. “What?”

“What do you choose now?” he repeated. “What do you wish me to do?”

Galadriel just stared at him. Her jaw opened and then shut again quickly, thinking better of whatever she nearly said.

“If you wish for me to leave now, I will,” Halbrand continued.

Still, she said nothing. She only stared at him with her piercing blue eyes. She may as well have been a witch for how her look enchanted him. He had forgotten what an astounding physical effect her eyes had on him.

“Tell me how you came to be here,” She demanded as she directed her burning gaze upon him. Estion too turned to him with a quizzical brow.

He cleared his throat again. By Eru, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been nervous. Yet, here he was, with his stomach churning and sweat dripping from his palms. “I uh… flew here.”

Galadriel frowned but Estion’s eyes lit up. “Maia can fly?” He asked with eagerness.

Halbrand couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Not without help,” he answered, “I met a Great Eagle a week ago.”

Estion gasped, “A Great Eagle?”

Halbrand nodded. He looked at Galadriel and saw her pursed lips and judgmental stare. She didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t believe him. “Galadriel?” he asked softly.

Her jaw tightened as he said her name. He instantly wished he had remained silent but there was no taking it back now. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” she asked with spite lacing each word.

Halbrand didn’t know how to respond. Of course, she had no right to trust him. The last time they spoke, he had nearly drowned her and left her for dead. He knew she wouldn’t die. He hadn’t ever wanted that. He had been hurt by her rejection and he reacted like a spoiled child. And then there was the matter of his deceit. His lie of omission. His careful words designed to make her believe he was mortal. Now, she would never believe any word that came out of his mouth and it was his own fault. He sighed, “No, I didn’t think you would even let me talk this much.”

The hard frown on her face softened slightly but didn’t relent. Estion’s face twisted into a mess of confusion. He glanced back and forth between them constantly as if he couldn’t decide whose reaction he was more interested in.

“I never intended to disturb you,” Halbrand continued, “Either of you. I only came because you were at death’s door. I couldn’t let that happen. Not when it was in my power to stop it.”

Galadriel nodded as she touched the wound on her shoulder. “So, what now?”

Halbrand furrowed his brow. “What now?”

“Yes,” Galadriel replied, clearly losing patience, “What now?”

“I, uh… I haven’t thought about it,” he muttered, cursing himself and his lack of foresight. It was completely unlike him to be unprepared. Yet, here he was, sounding like an idiot. Or worse, like he was trying to manipulate his way into their lives. He cleared his throat and said, “I wanted to ask, why are you on the run? What happened?”

Galadriel took a breath to steady herself. She took her time, calculating her words carefully. Finally, she replied, “Gil-Galad knows who you truly are.”

Halbrand furrowed his brow. Why would that affect them? Unless… He glanced at Estion again, taking in the truly striking resemblance between them: high cheekbones, light brown hair falling in gentle curls, and those unusual green eyes. The horrible realization hit him in the chest like a hammer. “Gil-Galad persecutes you… because I… because of me?” he asked.

Galadriel nodded solemnly.

Anger filled him. A seething, white-hot rage simmered just below the surface of his skin. The only thing keeping it contained was his desperate need to show Galadriel how much he had changed. Neither she nor Estion deserved to experience his anger. He wouldn’t allow his short temper to come between them again. He swallowed his anger, forcing it down. But he wouldn’t let it go. He would save it for when he met Gil-Galad face to face.

So far, Galadriel seemed intent not to mention the family ties that bound the three of them together. He couldn’t blame her. Her priority was protecting Estion, as was his. But now, having to dance around the subject was more than he could bear.

The whole time, Estion rested his head against his mother’s shoulder and studied Halbrand. It was like the boy could see past his skin and peer at his soul. Halbrand wondered what the boy saw. What lay beneath? Was it anything worthwhile? Anything that could be saved? Someone worth saving? Someone who could be a good father?

Silence settled again with only the babbling of the stream and birds chirping to break it until Teonwer started screeching from the bushes. Halbrand had nearly forgotten the cat. He had been so focused on Estion and Galadriel, that he hadn’t given a thought to his other companion at all.

In an instant, the blurred form of Teonwer emerged from the undergrowth. And with him, was another cat with white fur. They tumbled out into the daylight, hissing and clawing at the other. It was a fierce battle. The other cat tried to run back to the tree line but Teonwer pounced and pinned him down. The other cat let out a mournful yowl.

“Teonwer!” Halbrand shouted to his friend.

Teonwer looked up with a viciousness Halbrand had never seen before. Teonwer meowed aggressively.

“What do you mean ‘an enemy?’” He asked.

Before Teonwer could reply, Estion said, “That’s Ruorul! He’s Gil-Galad’s cat.”

Halbrand raised his brow, “I see.” He leaned over and picked up Ruorul by the scruff of his neck. Ruorul yowled and tried to shake himself free from Halbrand’s grip. “We can’t have any servant of Gil-Galad running free in our midst,” Halbrand said.

“Don’t hurt him!” Estion exclaimed. The boy jumped to his feet, grabbed Ruorul, and held him tightly. Instantly, Ruorul calmed and turned into the gentlest creature in all of Arda. He tucked his head against Estion’s shoulder and meowed pathetically.

Teonwer meowed three times quite seriously. Halbrand shooshed him. This was no time for Teonwer’s petty dispute with another feline.

“What is he saying?” Galadriel asked.

Halbrand was momentarily stunned that Galadriel trusted him enough to interpret but he cleared his throat and replied, “He says that Ruorul cannot be trusted.”

Teonwer meowed three more times, continuing his earlier complaint.

Halbrand interpreted, “He says, Ruorul was trying to alert Gil-Galad’s men.”

Galadriel instantly became alarmed, “Are they near?”

Teonwer meowed once.

Halbrand’s heart dropped into his stomach. “He says, yes,” Halbrand confirmed. He swallowed hard. If Teonwer was correct, then they were all in grave danger.

Ruorul hissed venemously at Tenower.

“Stop it!” Estion told Ruorul firmly.

Ruorul turned to Estion and hissed again. He lashed out with his claws extended and swiped at Estion’s face, leaving a scratch on his chin.

Estion yelped and dropped Ruorul. The cat ran into the trees at lightning speed. Tenower made to chase him down but Halbrand stopped him. “Let him go, Tenower. The damage is done.”

“What did he say?” Galadriel asked again, fear growing in her eyes.

Halbrand didn’t dare waste time and told her bluntly, “Ruorul did alert Gil-Galad’s men. They will be here any moment.”

Galadriel gazed at him with a frightening intensity. “We are not safe here,” she said softly.

Halbrand nodded. “We need to leave.” He glanced around the clearing. They had only one horse. Galadriel and Estion could ride but he would have to walk or run if need be. “Estion,” he called to the boy, “Go to the stream and fill the water skins. We must hurry!” Estion nodded and raced to the stream.

Halbrand turned to Galadriel, “Can you ride?”

“If I must,” Galadriel murmured. She started to stand but lost her footing and slipped back to the ground. Halbrand leaned forward and offered her his hand. She looked at his hand and then at his eyes. “You truly love him, don’t you?”

Halbrand’s heart stuttered. “How could I not?” he asked in turn.

With a nod, Galadriel took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She looked up at him, her hand still in his. Her lips nearly turned up into a smile as she looked upon him. He could see the fondness she still felt for him as well as the gratefulness for what he had done. She opened her mouth to speak but her eyes suddenly glanced to the trees. And then he heard the sound of a dozen swords being drawn.

Notes:

Hey all!! I'm back with another cliffhanger!

I was struggling with this chapter for months because I just couldn't decide how I wanted this to go down. Eventually, I got most of it down but I was still unsure of where to take Halbrand's mental state. Fortunately, the new season has revived me and made me remember what I find so compelling about his character: his struggle of wanting to be loved but also craving power and control. I hope you enjoyed the temptation sequence as much as I did!

I felt like I was getting a little too ooc with him in some previous chapters and I wanted to get back to basics: struggle, temptation, heartache, yerning, angst, etc. You know, the shit we are all here for!

As always, this fic is open to criticism of the literary variety. And all comments are encouraged! I love hearing from all of you! It really makes my day to know that y'all enjoy my little story.

[keferon]

“Mistakes on mistakes until” ch 69 spoilers below!

Ahahahahahahah here I go again

Mistakes on mistakes until until I can draw Jazz with my eyes closed

I woke up, checked my phone, woke up for real and decided that whatever plans I had for this day yeah no they can wait a little bit kfkgnfk

Also. Consider listening this while reading. Or don't who am I to tell you what to do~

[fawningbruises]

To see their light, reflected in your eyes.

[5ummit]

I promise you, when Middle-Earth is healed and its people see what you and I did here, all our sufferings will be worth it. Our sufferings?

[ylieke]

"And Melkor entered his realm. And the Dark bowed before its Lord, and came apart in the light of Silmarilli. The creatures of the night prostrated themselves on the ground in hopes that they would be spared and his heavy gaze wouldn’t fall on them. Sauron bowed low, pinned down by the terror that like a cape was draped over the Fallen Vala. He relinquished all the power he held in his absence and laid it for him, as a servant must." An illistraion for the "Play with fire" fanfic by @eternal-fear

[fatcatlittlebox]

AU When Mairon and Artanis met under the light of the Trees.

inspired by Pick a Star, and follow it Home

[thyras]

→ your divine

PAIRING → mairon | halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 6.6k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, soft!sauron (even if that is possible), smut, some plot, masturbation, murder, reader has trauma, mentions of blood, blood drinking, possessiveness, unprotected p in v, choking, biting (marking), oral (fem receiving), confessions, breeding kink.

SUMMARY → you have been sauron's betrothed since the days of old, his faithful servant. you spend your days carrying out his plans in Eregion, but with each passing century, you long for your husband's awaiting arms until one day you finally get your wish.

AUTHOR'S NOTE → this is deranged and will be a two parter because this was already so long. i feel like sauron would not ever want to have children but for the sake of this lets just imagine otherwise. reader is dark but only when she needs to be. i was inspired by @just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace to take on writing a dark!reader fic. hope y'all enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

Centuries passed, and you kept playing your part well. You grew into your role as a healer in Eregion. But the pain always lingered. You missed your husband and longed to feel him underneath your fingertips again. Feel his taste on your lips as he drove into you at a toe-curling pace like in the days of old. When you both were free to indulge in each other for days.

Never to know the longing of separation.

You were standing in the courtyard talking with Mirdania when you felt the sweet pull of something you had not felt in centuries—your husband. It made you turn quickly, expecting those dark, shadowy fingers to crawl up your spine before wrapping themselves around your neck in the act of possession. When the feeling wanes, you feel your heart clenching and aching at the flicker of longing you now feel again.

Mirdania notices your change in demeanor and touches your shoulder softly, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn to her and smile, putting your mask back on as quickly as it recedes.

"Is everything okay?" she asks. You nod before returning to your earlier conversation when the sound of hooves alerted you both to turn toward the lower courtyard. A white horse and chestnut appear as the guards, Elrond and Celebrimbor, move to greet the unexpected visitors.

Your feet become glued to the cobblestone when you see the rider and feel the pull of his shadowy mind against your own. He was injured if the stain of red on his tunic and the pale face of a man riddled with sickness was any tell. But you knew that your husband was an excellent deceiver and had a particular fondness for deceiving elves. A dark smile twisted underneath your own illusion as the thoughts of his deception towards you, memories of that first awakening surfacing.

In ages passed, after the first awakening, your kin were offered passage to the Undying Lands by the great Oromë after Melkor’s defeat. But a dark deceiver had already infiltrated your heart and mind by that time. Planting seeds of darkness and a lust for power. You had always been a rebellious soul, and he fed off that.

His dark claws sunk into you until you were nothing more than a Moriquendi, an elf of the dark. The dark followed you and faded your light until no more than the shimmer in your hair was left.

So when it came time to leave, Oromë stopped you and exposed your secret to your kin. Horrified by the sight of you and your deception, Oromë gave your kin a choice; cleanse or destroy you if they wished to journey with the rest to Valinor in three days.

Your kin, eager to reach the Undying Lands after the war, decided it would be easier to destroy you than heal what was already so corrupted. He came to you in his shadowy form on the second and final night. Fingers caressing your torn and tattered face. You were accepting of his touch.

“What have they done?” his form breathed. You looked up at him, the face of your lover appearing. The soft, gentle, elven face and long reddish hair of his fair form.

“Mairon,” you struggled to breathe against the collar around your neck. Chains shackled you to the walls, and in that moment, you knew by the look in those dark eyes he would do what you craved so desperately for. Destruction and revenge for your kin’s greed.

When they came for you, he slaughtered them like animals before anyone could even lay a finger on you. The sight was wicked and cruel to anyone but you. To witness your lover wreak havoc on the people who wished to end you was intoxicating. It did not matter that he slaughtered your family or friends; they were already dead to you.

In one final act, your lover drug the leader of your kin to the center of the square by his hair, forcing him to kneel, tilting his head up so he could look at the destruction around him. “Look what one mere man can do,”

“You are no man,” the leader choked out his bloodied mouth, spitting some of it onto the ground. “You are him, Sauron, the Abhorred, Morgoth’s faithful lieutenant.” You watched as that dark, nebulous smile rose on his lips before the leader looked at you. “He’s corrupted you for his own gain, young one. He will discard you after he has no use for you anymore.”

You shook your head and stood a little taller. “And why should I believe you when you were so quick to murder me for immortality?” You reached down and picked up a discarded blade beside your feet. In one final breath, you drove it through his gut and watched as the light of the Valar began to fade from his eyes.

“Why?” The elf choked out as blood fell from his lips. You look up at your lover, whose dark eyes sparkled with adoration and intoxicating pleasure. You were his. The life you took was the final piece to welcoming the darkness entirely.

“He gave me what none of you could not.” Your lover's hand moved to cup your chin as he released the dying man, bringing your lips to his before you spoke again. “Divine purpose,”

Mirdania moving past you quickly to help brought you out of your twisted memory. You watched as the guards helped him off the horse and carried him into the tower. It would cause alarm if you rushed down as Mirdania had done, so you make your way moments later.

"What has happened?" you asked Elrond as you finally reached him.

"It appears Lady Galadriel never went to Valinor. " You had heard of her but only in passing whispers. She was an Eldar and had come from Valinor after the Great War. The only person that would have any knowledge of your husband’s slaughter of your woodland kin. “And now she has brought the King of the Southlands with her." You could not help the pulsing in your heart as you realized the grand plan was now coming to fruition, and you could rest easy that you would have him even for a brief time.

"I am sure I will be needed," you said, picking up your skirts and starting towards the stone stairs. "Can you send for my assistants, Lord Elrond?" He inclined his head before turning away. The pulsing in your ears and your heart caused you to take quickened paces toward him, following the sweet thread of your bond through the tower.

Once you were close enough to feel the pulsing of his own yearning for you, your feet slowed, and you made sure your mask was firmly in place before entering the room.

There he laid. In his new form, this time a man. His hair was coppery bronze that hung around his face in waves while a light coating of stubble covered his cheeks and chin. You had never minded whatever form he took, but you were always pleased whenever he took on the fair faces and tall, lean bodies. It added to your yearning for him.

You stepped into the room, causing Galadriel to turn as the guards left. Surprise flashed across her face as you strode past her.

Any elf could feel your dark choice to remain in Middle-Earth. But none could feel the dark bond you shared with the evil they sought to rid the world of.

You inclined your head to her and pushed up the sleeves of your robes before making it over to him. He turned his head and let a brief smile touch the corner of his lips as he took you in. His beloved wife was here to mend him once again. You moved to lift up the blood-stained shirt and saw the sprawling wound there. The dark lines of infection ran away from it. You reached to touch it, and he winced at the touch. So, it was a very well-crafted illusion.

"How long has it been?" you asked as your two assistants brushed past her, and Elrond appeared behind them. They set your supplies on the table next to you as they unpacked and laid them out.

"Six days, enemy lance. We rode with haste and without rest," she said before turning to speak with Elrond. You turned your attention back to the man lying in the bed. You pulled on the dark thread to tell him he would be well again. He swallowed hard, and you could tell he was trying so hard not to take your hand into his. The centuries apart finally caught up to him.

You and your assistants worked tirelessly to heal the wound. Once it was in a place that you could manage on your own, you dismissed the two younger elves and were finally left alone with your husband, who was now being cheeky and pretending to be asleep.

"You don't have to pretend anymore, my love; they are all gone." You said playfully as you moved your chair a little closer so you could wipe the sweat away from his forehead with a damp cloth. His eyes opened, and a thin smile touched his lips. "Very convincing," you motioned to the scar now on his side. "You inflict that yourself, or was it just a genuine illusion?" He squeezed your hand. The wedding ring on your finger pressed against the palm of his hand before he brought it up to kiss.

"A Maia does not reveal all his tricks," Your face warmed slightly as he moved to kiss your wrist, his lips caressing the scar on your wrist from when you had bound yourself to each other. It sent a shiver down your spine as his lips lingered there before you felt the tip of his tongue trace across it. You held back a whimper as your eyes closed. "I've missed you, my beloved,"

Your eyes fluttered open, and you moved to cup his stubble-covered cheek, lips leaning in to hover over his. Both of your breaths mixed for the first time in centuries as your thumb caressed his cheek. Eyes locked with each other. "I've missed you as well, husband,"

The long-awaited climax to your reunion came when you pressed your lips against his, hungry for his taste against you. Your lips moved in a passionate rhythm before he lifted his free hand to wrap around the back of your neck, lacing his fingers in your silky hair. A low growl rumbled in his chest as your tongue pushed past his lips, tasting the fiery scent he always carried with him. He pressed you harder into him as your other hand moved to run through the sprinkling of dark brown chest hair.

You fought the urge to climb onto him and straddle his hips before sinking yourself onto him and taking him to the hilt like you had craved to do each and every night since you both had parted ways centuries ago to protect your identity and facade of a mourning elf who had lost her kin to the evil, Sauron.

It was quickly over before you blinked, and you longed for much more; his lips left yours only for him to pull against your bottom lip between his teeth. Tempting you even more, your hand moved to wrap around his neck as a low growl left your lips. A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

"It would look suspicious if you linger here for any longer. I'll be fine." He breathed. "We can speak more in the morning." You gave him a slight pout before he smiled and ran his thumb against your bottom lip. "Always so insatiable,"

"Well, I have not seen you in centuries," you breathed as a dark smile filled your lips in preparation for what was about to leave your lips. "And doing everything myself with only memories grew tiresome."

A dark smile touched his own as he tsked and gripped your chin tight. "Always the temptress," he said seductively, as you looked down at him. Then, playfully, nipped at his thumb.

"But you love it," He chuckled softly before releasing you. "For it was the reason you became so smitten with me," You paused and hovered over his lips once again. "For I am the only one to have ever tempted the Dark Lord himself into doing my bidding." You ran your index finger underneath his coarse chin. He visibly shuttered and hummed against the touch as you moved your finger down his throat.

"And I would fall for it every time if it meant I got to ravage the woman that holds my dark soul in her clutches." Your face warmed, and your finger stopped when you leaned in once again to give him a parting kiss.

"Until the sun rises and the moon sets, you will be the only thing on my mind." You said, adjusting your gown and robes before laying the damp cloth into your basket. You snatched it up and moved to the door before turning to gaze upon his lazy, blissed form.

"Still as sweet and silvery-lipped as you were all those centuries ago, I can't wait to feel them around me." That dark smile he loved so much returned to your lips. His prolonging of this departure for someone who wanted to keep suspicions low was amusing.

But that’s what the mere sight of you did.

If eyes could ravage you, then his would be doing so now.

"I would say get some sleep, but we both know there will be none of that." He chuckled and waved you off.

"Good night, my beloved wife." You picked up your skirts and started down the dark corridor.

It was not long before you felt the cold, dark shadow following you out into the courtyard. You shook your head and turned to look up at the flickering light in the room you had just left. You could not see him, but you felt him in your bones and could not wait to feel him inside you.

The sun rose, and you began preparing to tend to your 'wounded' guest. You could not help but feel the anticipation building in your chest as you put together a fresh basket of linen and clothing for him. It was like in those days after you wed and found the peace you both searched for, indulging in each other's pleasures and carnal desires endlessly. The childish games he would indulge in just for you made your knees weak and your core turn as it twisted in anticipation for his soul to connect with yours. Old memories surfaced as you tugged on that invisible dark thread, tying you together in destiny.

Laughter left your lips as you ran behind a tree, trying to control your racing pulse so he had no chance of finding you. Your hand went over your mouth as if to control your breathing. A smile on your lips as you felt the first tug of your bond against your mind. He was close, and you were torn with desire, but this was a game of patience.

You closed your eyes and felt the wet ache of your womanhood at the thought of his hands caressing your body, fingers wrapping around your neck as those dark silted irises of the viper he was stared down at you in feral hunger. You took this chance to pick up your long velvet and silk skirts. Your own long, delicate fingers moved to push aside your underthings before tracing against your soaked entrance.

Your body came a light at the thought of his touch inside of yours. One finger became two, moving in a rhythm that had the squelching sound of your needy cunt filling the forest. Your other hand rubbed against your swollen pearl, bringing out a whimpered plea of his name, tempting him ever so slightly more.

"Little temptress?" his voice carried through the forest. "You can't hide forever. I can smell you doing what only my fingers can achieve." Another tug on your bond, and you could hear leaves crunching underneath his boots. You moaned against his filthy words before pulling out of yourself just as the heat of your climax kissed your core.

You wanted him to bring you to climax, but you also wanted to torture him. So you cleaned your drippings from your fingers with a quick lick of your fingers. His voice hummed as he neared. “Do you taste good, little one?” Your eyes slammed shut as the words were true, but you tasted even better against his fingertips.

You took this chance to pick up your heavy skirts and move away from the tree you had been hiding behind, heart racing as you ran further into the forest away from your beloved husband.

Once you came into view, a feral growl sounded through the forest, and his dark shadow started following you until you felt his arms snatch you up. It caused you to trip over your skirts, and both of you fell into a heap of limbs and cloth. "A fair, virtuous elven maiden such as yourself should not be touching herself like that, the scandal that would cause if anyone were to wander upon us.” he breathed against your tresses. A smile filled your lips as he encased your frame, breathing heavily like he had been running for ages.

Your lashes lowered, and you ran your index finger across his plump bottom lip and down his chin before moving back up to part his lips with your nail. His eyes became darkened and full of feral hunger, like some wolf ready to sink his teeth into its fresh prey as he took in the scent of your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

"Mmm," you hummed, eyes closing as you reached down and pulled up your skirts, revealing the delicate skin of your thighs covered in a light sheen of arousal dripping from your needy heat. He let out a low warning growl at your motion. "Then shall the Dark Lord take this fair maiden's virtue and taint her with the darkness?" Your eyes fluttered open just as his lips crashed upon yours, drawing out the air in your lungs and forcing you to press your body against him. His hand moved to run up the soft, damp skin of your upper thigh. Shivers ran down your spine as his tongue broke through your lips, taking in the taste of your sweet arousal. The kiss only lasted for a moment until his lips started down your jaw and then your neck. Your fingers moved to wind themselves into the reddish tresses of his hair.

"Such a devious little creature," he breathed against your neck before he raked his teeth against the skin, causing you to yank on the roots of his hair and produce a growl from him. The hunger built as fingers swiped through your wet folds; the stimulating touch caused you to roll your hips against him, craving the friction he was denying you. His free hand slammed you into the forest floor causing you to yelp in surprise.

"I learned from the best,"

Your face warmed as the memory slipped away, and you slipped out of your modest abode toward the forge where your husband was still being kept. Elves walked around you as you tried to keep your pace casual. Your eyes traveled across the beautiful streets of Eregion.

This had been your home for a few centuries back when Celebrimbor’s ancestors first settled here. They welcomed you and gave you a refuge from your twisted past. You watched as your husband’s plan began to unfold. The madness already brewing against the family that held lordship over these lands.

The family never suspecting of your true loyalty.

And your purpose here.

Out of the periphery of your eye, you saw Lady Galadriel's shimmering white hair walking across the courtyard. She was deep in thought by how she walked and her rigid posture. Something was amiss with her, something that you could tell was troubling her mind.

Your husband’s manipulation ran rampant against her mind. You could tell she had been ever willing to hang on to every enticing word that left his lips.

You continued your journey and finally made your way into the forge. To your mild surprise, you saw both your husband and Celebrimbor talking. Sensing your arrival, both men turned when you entered the forge; you gave them a light bow before Celebrimbor motioned you over.

Your husband's gaze followed you the whole way over, the tendrils of his dark web crawling up your back and across your shoulders as he explored every inch of you. Pulling at your desire and lust for him to be buried between your thighs, withering underneath his touch.

It was almost impossible to keep your mask on for Celebrimbor, but you could torture him later.

And the chaos that would cause.

Such delightful chaos.

"Good morning, my lord; I am surprised to see our guest up after I strictly told him to rest for a few days." You turned your gaze to your husband and gave him a scowl to keep up with your carefully crafted facades.

"It is my fault," Celebrimbor said warmly. "Lord Halbrand was just giving me some inspiration for a project, and I seemed to have gotten carried away." He gave you both a slight bow before returning down the corridor as he mumbled to himself about something.

When he was out of elven hearing, you spoke up. "For someone who does not want to raise suspicion, you sure are doing a horrible job." You move to take his forearm and walk you both over to the darkened corridor.

"I got bored," he said with a devilishly playful smile. You sighed and shook your head.

Why did you always have to be his rational conscience?

"And the last time you got bored," You poked at his chest. "I had to clean up your mess." He took your hand into his and brought it up to his lips.

"And I am eternally grateful for it, but," he paused and reached with his other hand to take your chin into his fingers. "Trust me, there will be no mess to clean up this time, only reward. And then we shall have forever to indulge in our pleasures after we are King and Queen of this land," You smiled darkly up at him.

"Promise?"

"With all my heart," He released you and motioned down the corridor to where he had been staying. "Now I do think we need to keep our little rouse up."

You take the lead, and before you know it, he has scooped you up bridal style as your basket of linen fell to the floor, leaving a pile of cloth in your wake. He carried you through the threshold of his room before depositing you onto the bed unceremoniously. You leaned up and watched as he closed the door and locked it.

"But won't you be missed?" you said as you moved to be on all fours. “Celebrimbor and Lady Galadriel shall surely miss you. They seem so smitten with you.” The yearning and dark lust was palpable in the air of the small room. You reach up to take the rim of his pants into your fingers, yanking him over to the edge of the bed.

"Hardly," he took your chin into his calloused hand before tilting your head to meet his gaze. "I'm more worried about whether Eregion's sweet, innocent healer will be missed." You lowered your lashes and gave his pants a light tug.

"Hardly," you repeated his answer and licked your bottom lip. You ached to feel the heaviness of him in your mouth and slide your tongue up his length, knowing all the areas that would gift you with those precious sounds and dirty Black Speech endearments. "She's out of the office for the remainder of the morning. And plus, my assistants are perfectly capable of managing without me."

Your husband pulled your gaze back to meet his. It did not matter if he changed appearances or faces; that dark, feral gaze he produced whenever you were your playful, temptress self was always the same. But this face was slowly becoming one of your favorites, the dampness already collecting in your undergarments as you reached up to move your hand across the growing appendage in the fabric of his pants.

You licked your lips as his eyes closed, and he released your face. "Will my husband let me worship him like I have begged to do in those lonely nights?"

"Yes," he breathed out as your hand slipped between the rim of his pants. But before you could continue, he had your back against the bed. Dark eyes watching intently as yours grew in surprise. "But first, I wish to worship my faithful wife for her patience and effort." His hands wrapped around your neck just enough to ignite the fire in your belly that had been brewing since last night. You arch yourself in the pressured grasp as if you were showing off the most beautiful necklace in the realm. The necklace you ached for.

Finally, his mouth was on yours, and your fingers began winding into his coppery waves, pulling on the roots as his hand tightened around your neck. Your mouths fought for dominance, trying to quench a thirst that had built up in you both for centuries.

Yearning to feel body against body, mind against mind, and soul against soul. You tugged at his hair again and pushed your mouth against his harder, nipping at the skin until you could taste the black liquor of his blood coating your sweet lips.

He tasted so godly to you, and you swallowed each drop of the darkness like the faithful wife you were. After a few moments, he broke away and took your bottom lip between his teeth before tracing the blackness off both your lips. You obediently took his finger into your mouth and licked it clean. A growl rumbled in his chest as he gazed upon your obscene gesture. "I am going to make a mess of you," he promised. "Make you fall apart repeatedly, like the days of old."

You let a whimper escape your lips as he released your neck, and open-mouthed kisses replaced it. His tongue lapped up the sweet, tender skin there. "Hus—" you barely got out before his teeth met the delicate skin of your neck and began to suck against the skin.

"Mark you so no man may gaze upon your beauty and have any doubt you are bound to my soul." Your eyes slammed shut as you felt the searing pain of his teeth breaking the skin. His tongue lapped at the blood pooling there. "My beautiful elven wife," A moan escaped your lips before you pressed your body against his, the barrier of fabric almost too much. You craved to feel his bare skin against yours and take in all this form had to offer.

He continued down your shoulder before ripping at the fabric of your dress until it was torn down to your stomach, revealing the divine wonder of your breasts to him for the first time in centuries. You ran your tongue across your swollen bottom lip as he gazed at you in the morning sun.

His heart finally felt whole again as he gazed down at you, eating up your form and the light trickle of blood down your chest from where he had bit too hard. Your skin was so soft and warm underneath his calloused hands, the skin of the woman he gave his soul to. He leaned in, and his lips lapped up the trail of your sickly, sweet blood.

"Love?" you asked, concerned, pulling his face to meet your gaze. Your husband moved to cup your soft cheek and ran his thumb against your cheekbone. Your eyes were growing just as dark as his at this moment. The power that coursed through him was now coursing through you, the bond strengthening with each touch, kiss, or taste of your body.

"My divine, let me destroy you," he breathed, leaning down to kiss your breastbone before placing a trail of open-mouthed kisses until he took your pebbled nipple between his lips, sucking on it eagerly before speaking again. "And take the last piece of your pureness."

He continued down to your stomach, where he finished ripping the rest of your garments from your body. Every mound of flesh was game to his mouth as your fingers moved to twine in those coppery strands again. Pulling and guiding him to where he was most needed.

Your husband's fingers trailed up the flesh of your thighs as he moved to kneel in front of the bed, propping your legs up and pulling you to the edge. The image of him on his knees sent your core pulsing, something that never ceased to get a reaction out of you. It was divine and sinfully powerful to see him there. Surrendering himself to you and his desire to kneel before his queen.

"You like it when I'm on my knees, don't you?" he taunted between your thighs. His breath tickled your swollen folds, causing you to falter for a moment—but only just a moment until you sat up, and your fingers yanked his head back. His cynical grin touched his lips as he gazed at your darkened expression. "There she is," he taunted against your tight grasp. "My queen," he chuckled with a dark undertone.

"If you are going to keep taunting me, I'd rather that silvery tongue of yours to be doing something else." Your husband obliged and leaned to kiss the slickness on your thighs, tasting the arousal and yearning you felt before. Before, in one swift movement, he had you gasping for air when his mouth met your swollen cunt.

Your back arched off the mattress, and your fingers moved to grip the bed linen as he showed you just what that darkly sweet tongue could do. You could not hold back the moans or whimpers of pleasure he pulled from those swollen lips.

It was not long before one dark finger split you open, and your cunt clenched against the unfamiliar touch. Your fingers clenched his hair as his finger rocked against you, the pad of his palm touching the sweet petal of your arousal tortuously. One became two as he replaced the pad of his hand with his thumb. His free arm moved to lay across your sternum, holding you captive on the mattress. His lips returned to yours, so you could enjoy the taste of your arousal as he continued to fuck you with his torturous motions inside you.

His corruption of you ran so deep that there was no mere mortal that could ever get you to turn against the darkness. You had the most powerful being in all of Middle-Earth between your thighs, and you were the only mortal he would kneel to.

Your fingers clawed at the linen; his name, his true name, hung on your lips, ready to be released into the world after centuries of quiet patience. Your back arched against his restraining grasp, signaling to him that you were close to your climax. His come here motions quickened, and you came hard over his fingers in a release of pent-up energy, clenching around him like you never wanted your bodies to part.

"Mairon," You whimpered in ecstasy. It was always the name he wed you with. Never Sauron or the countless other names he took on. And he took pleasure in that. The way your elven tongue and lips wrapped around the name made him want to move continents and oceans for you.

"Good girl," he breathed against your sensitive, well fucked cunt. "Always such a willing and well-behaved girl." He kissed your inner thigh, tongue lapping up your drippings before he smiled darkly and bit down on the delicate flesh, causing you to moan loudly again.

"Your version of 'well-behaved' and mine are not the same, husband," you said, breathless. He chuckled and leaned back over you, taking in your blissed expression and sparkling eyes as you gazed up at him.

"Mmmm," he hummed against your stomach as you ran your fingers through his tousled strands. "But I do enjoy when you misbehave because I hear my name fall off your lips repeatedly like a young maiden saying the sweetest prayer." You watched as your husband discarded every fabric upon his body to reveal the lean man underneath.

You moved to kneel on the bed and ran your fingers through the sprinkling of chest hair as he slipped out of his pants. His mouth met yours again as your fingers moved to run up through the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing his face against you. "Let me worship you," you breathed against his lips in between kisses as your hand moved to wrap around his jutting appendage. He hissed out a curse as you pumped the taut skin. "Let me show you how lonely each and every century was."

He tried to encase you with his form, but you hooked your leg around his waist and rolled him underneath you. Your hips now straddling him as you hovered over him, awaiting the time to sink your hips down and take him to the hilt, just as you had dreamed of. Both of you were breathless and yearned for this long-awaited reunion.

This had been all he could think about as he recovered his form: tasting your sweet skin against his lips and feeling your warmth around him. He had been patient and steadfast as he worked out his plan and finally returned to his wife when the time was right.

Once his hands were on your waist and you were cradling his face, you finally sunk your hips down until you felt the tip at your entrance, the pulsing of your cunt already eager for the stretch of him splitting you open.

“For all eternity,” he breathed. “I shall be bound to you.”

“Never to wander or forget the being I have vowed to trust, love, and obey.” You finished. The words of your vow to each other rang through both your minds.

It was like that first time again when you finally took him to the hilt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the pleasure of being complete by the being you gave your equally dark soul to. The being now resting in your grasp.

You began rolling your hips against him; the same spine-tingling touch of his dark fingers running up your spine filled you with even more urge to quicken your pace, but you kept an even rolling motion. Your husband moved to push some of your hair behind your ear as both of you struggled against the motions.

"Immortality always felt so hollowing," he breathed as you lowered your lips to his. "Until I met my elven princess, I turned into my dark queen." Your lips met his furiously until your pace quickened, and both your moans were being swallowed by each other's mouths. Pulling you in ever deeper to your awaiting climax.

As your bodies joined and you became one, you could feel his thoughts against your own. The feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him caused him to strain against your movements. Your smile darkened against his lips as you slowed even more. He growled and squeezed the flesh of your ass hard. “Behave, little temptress.” His teeth nipped your bottom lip, warning you.

“But I thought you liked it when I misbehaved, my lord,” You teased. He roughly pushed you onto your back and drove into you with an animalistic pace. Pulling squeals from your lips as he drove both your highs. Your fingers released his waves as he handcuffed your wrists above your head, sitting up. Your soft gaze watched his wanton expression fill his face as he took pleasure in how you felt around him. Your back arched into the thrusts, trying to meet his powerful thrusts. Drawing him deeper toward the door to your womb, where you wished to plant his seed.

You licked your lips at the sinful thought of being full and ripe with his child. You knew he never wanted children as he found it unsettling. Merely giving you the answer of what if our own creation was as powerful as him and seeked to destroy their parents in their quest for dominion over the realm of which you both created.

A valid concern. But it did not stop your longing for the sweet kicks and turns of a child nestled in your womb.

“Little one,” he breathed as his fingers tightened around your wrists and he leaned in. “I can feel those desires of yours and do I not give you enough?” You nodded softly before answering.

“But does the creation built out of our love and in our image not entice you, husband?” His lips hovered over you, and he slowed his thrusts to a more gentle pace. He took a moment to collect his thoughts.

“A creation that could take you from me, do you wish for me to suffer in my eternity of longing for you?” Tears formed in your eyes, and his eyes darkened at the sight. “Sweet wife,” he breathed before kissing away the tears. “If this is what you want, then I shall give you what you desire, but only if you promise not to leave me empty for eternity by your absence.”

“I promise,” He picked up his pace again and drew moans out from your sinful lips. Pleasure rose in you both at the feeling of him quenching your sinful desire. He always gave you what you wanted. Ravished you delicate trinkets and beautiful nights of connected bliss. But he could never say no to his wife. His bondmate.

He snaked his fingers between your heated bodies, rubbing the sensitive bud of arousal. Pulling his name out of your sweet lips. “Will it,” you breathed as he laid his forehead on yours. The rippling of your walls clenching around him as you were reaching your peak sent him into a frenzy until one last call of his name had you whithering underneath your orgasm.

He groaned against the pulsing and began thrusting into you more brutal, more feral, as he once again wished to mark you as his own. The sweet taste of his orgasm kissed at him before, in one ragged movement, he emptied into you, spilling his seed deeply into your womb. Your breathless plea for him to will it had him straining to release you. His hand wrapped around your throat, and he pulled out of you, leaving a trail of spend in his wake. Fingers moving to lap up the substance before meeting your withering cunt, pushing it into you. Every last drop of his mark, coating you.

He leaned into your ear as you whimpered in overstimulation of his large fingers still buried deep inside you. There was nothing he wished more than to see you happy and full. Those dark, sinful lips wrapped around your ear and spoke the words you had long desired for.

"I will it,"

[dracowars]

of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

summary: where halbrand and y/n are forced to marry and he unveils a world she's only ever dreamed of

a/n: how do i manage to make it longer every time you ask?? i have no idea, i just go with the flow & suddenly i'm at 6k~ i have been struggeling with this one but i'm proud of how it ultimately turned out!! feedback is always appreciated and thank you for all the love <3

warnings: angst, forced marriage, panic attack, mentions of sickness, soft sauron

universe: the rings of power

"I won't marry a stranger!", you loudly cry out in anger and slam your fists on the table with all your might, the sheer force of it causing some of the parchments to fall to the marble floor.

"He is no stranger. He is the King of the Southlands", your sister, Queen-Regent Míriel, tells you matter-of-factly.

"Who told you that? The elf?", you spit out, the blood running through your veins seething with anger. "Just a few days have gone by since he was detained in one of our cells, and now he is being hailed as a long-lost king? Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Sister-"

"Don't 'sister' me right now."

Míriel takes a deep breath, resting her weight on the table with both arms, and lowers her head as if she needs a moment to avoid lashing out on you in the same manner you are currently displaying.

"Listen. A marriage like this would rekindle and strengthen the bond between the people of Middle-earth and our kind for generations to come", she explains, her voice calm, but you know her well enough to notice that she has to pull herself together.

"Very well, go ahead and marry him then", you counter and give her a challenging look, the one you have been giving her since you were children. "Why should I be the one to suffer?"

"As the Princess of Númenor, it is your duty to prioritize the welfare of your people over your own!", she yells at you now, her nostrils flaring. You'd be lying if you said you didn't flinch a little when she raised her voice. Usually, it takes longer to unsettle her.

Elendil, who is standing at the large doors to the room, also seems a little shocked. As the two exchange a tender look, however, Míriel's features relax again and she straightens up, slipping back into the role of the wise, majestic Queen-Regent of Númenor.

"I won't accept no for an answer", she tells you, all calm and collected again. No trace left of your loving sister whom you loved so much.

"You have held me captive within these castle's walls for longer than I know and now you wish to ship me off like that?", you scoff in disbelief, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying to mask how much she's hurting you right now.

"You wanted freedom. Here I am granting it to you."

"This is not freedom", you express your words through gritted teeth, your eyes burning with tears as your words have no effect on Míriel. "You think you can still control me like a child. But you no longer hold any power over me. I won't let you dictate the course of my life."

To emphasize your point, you grab the unassuming tiara adorning your head, smaller and thus in stark contrast to your sister's, and forcefully hurl it to her feet. Several small diamonds come loose and the sound of them scattering around the marble floor makes you shiver.

"I don't care who he is", you say angrily, your hands clenched into fists at your sides while Míriel only looks at you in shock, her eyes wide. "I won't marry someone I don't know, let alone love."

With these final words, you turn away and walk towards the door, which Elendil quickly opens for you. On his face, you clearly see that he feels sorry about how this whole situation expired. But you don't need his pity.

You stomp out angrily, holding back your tears, your pulse pounding in your ears. You have never told her what you think before. You have always done what she asked of you, been a good little sister because you can only imagine the burden she is carrying. But today she has crossed a line.

When you turn around in the hallway one last time, catching a glimpse of Míriel through the closing door, you see Elendil carefully approaching her to comfort her. From this perspective, she looks exhausted, hurt even. But all you feel towards her is anger. You can't help but roll your eyes and release a heavy breath of air from your lungs.

Undoubtedly, that is the reason why she wants you to marry Lord Halbrand. Because her heart is already taken.

You think back to times when you would have been overjoyed, when you would have been genuinely happy for her. You two would have lain on soft pillows and talked about everything, every little detail. Now, you can find none of these feelings inside of you.

Completely lost in your thoughts, you walk through the large halls of the castle, your home. A home that feels much more like a prison. With your head low, you turn a corner and suddenly collide with a hard wall. Caught off guard, you stumble back until a hand closes around your wrist and holds you tight.

You forget to breathe for a moment when your gaze meets his.

"Whoa there. Where are you headed, my lady?", Lord Halbrand asks you in surprise, a gentle smile on his face as he holds you close, his touch on your skin burning. As soon as you notice this, you break free from his grip and take your distance, smoothing down your dress, which he only comments on with a frown.

He is the last person you want to talk to right now.

"Are you all right?", he asks you with concern in his voice, making you realize that you haven't given him an answer and just stood there in silence. In fact, you don't really have anything to say to him. You just wish he would go back to Middle-earth where he belongs.

"Yes", you finally answer, coldly and curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me."

You walk past him, your shoulders almost touching, and listen to your own loud footsteps echoing through the halls as you walk down the corridor.

"Your demeanour leads me to believe that the Queen-Regent informed you of our plans", his voice calls after you, suddenly bringing you to an abrupt halt.

Our plans? That means they have been talking about this behind your back for who knows how long. You were deemed to lose from the beginning. As always.

"She did", you say, slowly turning around and towards him. He hasn't moved from the spot where you left him moments ago, but his presence fills the entire hallway anyway.

The way he stands there and looks at you, as if you were fragile and pitiable, makes the anger inside of you boil up once more and you walk towards him. Instead of taking a step back, however, he takes one towards you so that he is now towering over you with all his height.

"Listen to my words: I don't know what exactly you hope to achieve with this.. marriage. But it will never happen. I will not marry you", you tell him clearly, emphasizing the last words by poking your index finger into his chest. You don't give him time to answer, but as you turn around you notice the knowing grin that plays around his lips.

You decide not to respond to this and move away from him entirely. As soon as you turn into the next corridor, you finally feel like you can breathe again. At least as much as is possible for you within these walls.

You haven't been able to breathe properly in here for a long time.

You walk to your room, two guards posted on either side of the massive doors, and let yourself through without a word. Once inside, you find your way directly to the balcony, which overlooks the entire city and the harbour. The wind blows through your hair and creates a sad smile on your lips. From up here, you can hear nothing but the wind, the people frolicking down there nothing more than tiny black dots. A single tear finds its way down your cheek and you don't bother to wipe it away. Rather, you are amazed that you can even cry at all after all the tears you have already shed here.

You don't know if it is at that moment, or before, when you threw your crown at Míriel's feet, but you make a decision.

With a goal in mind, you go back inside, into the huge room you call your own and search through several closets until you find what you are looking for. You swap your beautifully ornamented dress for a more simple one, get rid of all your jewelry and put your hair into a casual updo. On the way to the door, your own reflection briefly looks back at you from the mirror across the room and you pause as you look at yourself.

Nothing is left of the little girl who once had dreams and pursued goals.

Taking another deep breath, you open the door and step out. The guards bow, as they always do when they see you.

"I'm going to pay a visit to my father", you explain to them, which they confirm with a short nod. They are about to follow you, but seem to remember that you are now allowed to walk around without guards constantly at your side, at least within the castle's walls. A change that hasn't been in effect for very long.

Nevertheless, you quicken your pace once you are out of their reach, afraid that they will decide to follow you after all. On your way, you make sure to avoid the maids and other guards, hiding behind corners, holding your breath. When you finally arrive at the stairs to the tower that lead up to your father, you stop hesitantly. But it only takes a moment, remembering your conversation with Míriel and all the other terrible events of the past, for you to regain your strength and turn away. With quick steps, you take the next set of stairs that lead down.

As you arrive in corridors that lead to the kitchen and staff facilities, you pay close attention to every little noise. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you feel like it can be heard echoing throughout the corridors. You put your shaking hands against the spot where your heart is and try to calm yourself down. You've never tried to break out of this prison before, you always thought you were here for your own good. But you know better now. The thought of the outside world, which you have encountered so rarely in your life, scares you beyond belief either way.

Your sister's words still roam around your mind, making you clench your fists, until you gather up all your courage. Finally, you make it out of one of the doors, out into the fresh air that greets you lovingly.

However, you have no time to linger and quickly move forward, with careful steps as not to alert anyone. As you walk, you pull a cloth out of the corset of your dress that you had previously hidden there. In one swift motion, you pull it over your head and hide your face behind the fabric, only your eyes visible now.

With these safety measures in place, you make your way to the harbour, away from the castle. The entrances for the staff are guarded, but because of your disguise they let you pass. Once you slip past them, you are immediately surprised by the number of people walking through the streets. The sun is already setting on the horizon and the warm light of lanterns illuminates the alleyways.

With a gentle smile, you watch as two children whirl around, holding dolls that they chase each other with. You follow the mass of people who probably want to celebrate the end of their day in one of the taverns. The closer you get to the center of the city, the market square, the louder and more crowded it becomes. You hear them talking, laughing with each other, arguments are being settled, some young girls dance in the middle of a crowd of people who happily watch and applaud.

Despite the positive and joyful atmosphere, you are overcome by a feeling of sadness and sorrow all of a sudden. These people are your people - and you never get to see them. They don't get to see you unless they enter the castle, and that is something only a few people are allowed to do, reserved especially for the nobles and those of higher rank. But what makes you even sadder is the fact that very few of them even care for you. You are second in line to the throne. Once your father leaves this world, Míriel will be their Queen. Accordingly, interest in you is quite low. You are not even sure they would recognize you if you took off your disguise.

The sad truth is that they wouldn't, and that hurts more than you thought. And these are the people you are supposed to give your life for.

Suddenly everything becomes too much for you. Your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding, your whole body is shaking. No matter where you look, there are crowds of people everywhere. You feel small, constricted, helpless. You are carelessly pushed to the side, shoved forward. Your feet are stepped on, no one apologizes. You try to break out of the crowd, but your head is spinning and you no longer know which direction to go. Your breathing is getting faster and louder by the second. Nobody notices, nobody shows even the slightest hint of interest in you.

When you feel your legs giving way beneath you, you are suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled into an alley.

You are terrified when you realize that you cannot defend yourself, your body is completely frozen and does not listen to your commands. Only when you feel a gentle hand on your cheek - the cloth must have come loose in all the chaos - and look up do you let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding in. Lord Halbrand is standing in front of you, his face painted in concern as he looks you up and down.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Princess?", he asks and quickly grabs a hold of your shoulder as you start to drift away again, your legs no longer able to hold you upright. Exhausted, you lean against the stone wall behind you and close your eyes. You don't like that he sees you like this. On the other hand, he just saved you and prevented you from fainting in the middle of a crowd.

"I.. don't know", you whisper in defeat and it takes all your strength to admit it.

"What were you even thinking?", he says quietly, more to himself than to you. It feels like he doesn't want to scold you, but on the other hand he also does want to.

You look into his eyes, his face bathed in warm light from the soft candlelight of the lanterns around you. The wounds that are covering his skin have slowly healed, but even in this dim light you still notice them. Only now, when staring at him, do you realize that he is distracting you from all the noise and hustle, faded into the background.

"Come. I'll escort you back to the castle", he finally offers, his hands still on your shoulders as if he doesn't dare let go of you, afraid that you'll drift into the darkness at any moment.

Once again, you don't react and only stare at him, making the worry on his face deepen. In the meantime, you just can't wrap your head around how a Southlander like him, a low man, who barely knows you and who you've met with nothing but hatred, is worried about you while the people around you, your kind, are far away from even remotely caring about you.

"Can you walk on your own?", he asks, and when you finally nod in agreement, he lets go of you. But not for long, because after he puts the cloth back in its place to cover your features one of his hands wraps around yours and holds it tightly in his grip as he pulls you behind him, up several steps that lead further away from the cheerful scene.

You are grateful that he doesn't ask any questions, doesn't want to know why you were out here in the first place.

"Thank you."

That makes him pause for a moment and his hand applies a little more pressure on yours. In response, he turns to you with a gentle smile and lowers his head in resignation.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart suddenly skips a beat. He doesn't seem to notice the change in your face, however, and walks on. Together you make your way through the winding streets and you are amazed at how well he already knows his way around. You have to admit that it also hurts. After just a few days he's already more familiar with this city than you are.

You can already see the entrance to the castle when Lord Halbrand halts in his step, forcing you to stop as well. Turning to you, he steps closer and lifts your hand. Then, he gently places his other hand on top of it.

"I don't know what you were doing out there", he starts, looking from your hand between his to your eyes. "But rest assured that I'll keep it to myself."

The relief you feel in that moment is indescribable. If your sister found out you had escaped, she would surely reinforce all safety measure to protect you. This feeling doesn't last long, however, when another emotion suddenly overshadows it once he continues speaking.

"A princess like you doesn't belong out here."

He may not notice it, but these words hurt you deeply and make your eyes burn with tears within seconds. Without hesitation, you snatch your hand from him and put some distance between you by taking a few steps back. Your knees still feel weak, but you don't let it show. Lord Halbrand's face meets yours with incomprehension as you do so.

"I know where I belong", you spit out angrily and straighten up. For a moment you actually thought there might be more hidden beneath his facade. Oh, how wrong you were.

With these last words, you leave him standing there and walk the last few meters to the castle without him. Once again, you sneak through the staff quarters into the castle. Although you don't want to admit it, the walls suddenly give you comfort, making you feel safe and protected.

You quickly blink away a few tears and return to your chambers, where you go straight to bed. Even though you are incredibly exhausted and drained, you don't sleep all night. You toss and turn in the sheets, your mind plagued by nightmares until you hear the birds outside singing.

════════════

Annoyed, you slam the door to your chambers shut behind you and lean against it with a huff. Then you slide down to the cold ground and pull your knees closer to you, hugging them against your body.

Once again you tried to talk to your sister. Once again she dismissed your words as if they were worthless.

And that's exactly how you feel right now: worthless. Born into a life that brings you nothing but suffering and pain.

Ever since you were born, you were the one who would never ascend the throne. Who would never rule. And you never wanted to. You would never want to be your sister. But right now, you wish that you were both just born into a normal family, with no wealth or power. At the end of the day, she is still your big sister, the one who has always watched over you. Your mother dead, your father long bedridden - she is the only family you have left.

You miss the times when everything was peaceful. Happy times long gone when two sisters were inseparable. But the years made you believe that this world is not made for anyone to be happy.

You lower your head and let the sadness wash over you like waves finally bringing down a ship, and tears stream down your cheeks. Your body shakes, but you hold back any sobs, crying in silence.

You don't know how long you sat there, alone with your thoughts, the very last tear leaving your eye, but eventually something catches your attention. Something that reflects the light from across the room, lying on your vanity table that wasn't there when you left in the morning. Slowly, you get up and walk over, only to discover a beautiful brooch on top of a small piece of parchment. The design is that of a sun and the brooch is decorated with white and blue diamonds. It's breathtaking to look at.

You glance at the black ink on the parchment and your heart involuntarily jumps once more. The words read: 'Forgive me'.

When you suddenly hear footsteps behind you, however, you don't have time to think about these words any further. In one quick movement, you take an ornate dagger out of one of the drawers and turn in the direction of the noises. What you don't expect, however, is that Lord Halbrand emerges from the shadows behind your bed.

"H-How did you get in here? Who let you in?", you ask, out of breath, your heart pounding. The dagger in your hand is still raised, even as he approaches you. He doesn't say anything, however, just stands in front of you and slowly grabs your hand, which is tightly gripping the weapon. He lowers your joined hands and carefully removes the dagger from your grip, leaning over you to gently place it on the table.

"I was uncertain if my apology would be deemed acceptable, hence I wanted to see you in person to make sure", his soft voice sounds in your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. He is definitely too close to you right now and even though you'd never admit it, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. You look straight into his shining eyes which are not quite blue and not quite green but something in the middle. You swallow because the intensity in his gaze leaves you speechless.

"Get off me", you manage to croak out, sounding anything but convincing. Lord Halbrand notices this too, a smirk playing around his lips.

"I know you don't mean that, Princess. And that, deep down, you have already forgiven me", he breathes in a deeper voice than before and brushes a strand of hair from your face. In an instant, you grab his wrist and stop him from touching you any further. Because you know exactly what his touch does to you. And you simply cannot and do not want to acknowledge that you like what he does.

So far, every encounter with him was exhilarating, thrilling, like you were finally embarking on a long-awaited adventure. He awakens feelings you have kept locked away for a long time, sealed behind thick iron bars. Brick by brick, he slowly destroys the protective walls you have built around your heart.

It scares you.

"Lord Halbrand", you say more seriously now and stare directly into his beautiful eyes while he does not even try to free himself from your grip. "Get out of this room or I will call the guards and have you removed."

At that threat, Lord Halbrand lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your tight grip with ease.

"Before long, I will become your husband. It's time for you to get used to my presence, my lady", he states and the fury that rises in your eyes at his words is unmistakable. "I am aware that this.. arrangement may not be something you look forward to, but I suggest that you begin to come to terms with it. I fear you have no choice but to agree."

"Don't do this", you plead, and even though you try your best to hide it, your body trembles and your eyes fill with tears. The realization that he is telling the truth makes you feel sick to your stomach. Not wanting him to see your obvious discomfort, you turn your head away, lowering it in the process.

The next moment, however, you are unexpectedly pulled forward and suddenly feel two strong, muscular arms around you. Lord Halbrand hugs you as if his life depended on it. You can't even remember the last time someone hugged you. Especially not like this.

The slight scent of sea salt and smoke greets you and you have to admit that his embrace makes you feel safe, comfortable even. With his arms pressing you against his firm body tenderly, he manages to stop your body from shaking and your head from spinning. Right now, it's just you and Lord Halbrand. No could-haves, no would-haves.

The fact that you are no longer averse to his proximity scares you an immeasurable amount. That is also the reason why, in the next second, you push him away with all your strength, your hands on his hard chest.

"Please, Lord Halbrand. I need you to leave", you almost beg him and when his hand clasps yours on his chest, you look up at him and suddenly feel seen. The way he looks at you is unlike anyone has ever looked at you before.

"Your wish is my command, Princess", he nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, where he places a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand before he walks back to the large doors to your chamber, not taking his eyes off you. You also watch him and wait for him to finally leave you.

"Leave out the Lord next time", is the last thing he says before he disappears.

As soon as you see the door slam shut behind him, however, you run over with quick steps. Only when you get there and reach for the door handle do you stop yourself. What has gotten into you? Overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your body all at once, you lean your forehead against the door in defeat.

After staying there for a while and taking several deep breaths to calm your rapidly pounding heart, you walk over to the brooch that is still shining at you from the table. Carefully, you place the fragile thing in the palm of your hand and examine it when you suddenly hear a whistle.

Wondering where it came from, you step out onto your balcony and see a few ships leaving the bay in the distance. But your attention is quickly drawn to the person standing in the courtyard a few meters below, looking up at you. You don't have to look twice to know that it is Halbrand.

"Give us a chance", he calls up to you and even from this distance you can see the bright smile on his face. Then he turns around and disappears under one of the archways.

Holding the brooch tightly to your heart, you can't believe that a soft smile creeps onto your lips.

════════════

"His Lordship Halbrand has requested to see you, my lady", one of the guards announces as you step out of your chambers the next morning. The mention of his name makes your heart skip a beat and you straighten up immediately.

"Then I shouldn't keep him waiting", you reply gracefully and let the guard accompany you to the place where Halbrand wants to meet you. You wouldn't have expected this to be the inner courtyard, though. And even less that he would be waiting for you there with two saddled horses.

"I hope you had a good night's sleep, my lady", Halbrand greets you with a gentle smile and notices that your steps immediately slow down when you see him with the horses. "Rest assured, Princess. I have consulted with the Queen-Regent regarding this matter. With her approval, I am permitted to accompany you on a brief ride. If that is what you wish, of course."

You pause entirely. You can't believe he convinced your sister to let you leave the castle, and with only Halbrand as your company as well. On the other hand, you've gotten a sense of how charming and persuasive he can be in the last few days.

Smiling, he holds out the reins of a white mare that is standing calmly next to him. Still a little unsure about the whole situation, you take the reins and stroke the horse gently, but don't take your eyes off Halbrand.

"H-How?", you ask him in disbelief. You can't help but think back to how often you have begged your sister to finally let you leave the castle. The fact that she is allowing this now makes you a little suspicious, but you certainly won't question her motives if it means that you can experience freedom once more, even if only for a few hours.

"We have to be back by sunset", Halbrand winks at you and comes closer, making you take a step back instinctively. When he reaches out his hand, you realize that he just wants to help you onto the mare, so you put your hand in his. Once you feel his calloused, rough yet soft hand, a pleasant feeling flows through you and when you sit upon the mare's back, you feel like you could conquer the world. He mounts his black horse as well and together you lead the horses out of the gate.

You turn around, your eyes fixed on the castle and the guards who make no move to follow you. A sense of relief flows through your body at once. Side by side, you make it out of the city and as soon as you leave the border of the capital, you are greeted by vast meadows and fields, grass gently swaying in the wind.

It doesn't take long before you get your horses galloping over the fields. Your white mare is a little faster than his horse, but you hardly even notice. You can only concentrate on the wind blowing through your hair, letting your dress float gently behind you. The air feels liberating and you are amazed at the beauty of nature, the beauty of the island you call home but have seen so little of.

A little later you reach a white sandy beach, the waves calm, seagulls squalling in the distance. The sea suddenly smells completely different from what you are used to and you can't help but smile.

If this is what freedom feels like, you won't ever go back.

Finally, you bring your horse to a stop on the shore, scratching her head, and turn to Halbrand, who stops his stallion right in front of you. Your hair is all tousled by the wind, but Halbrand smiles at you so genuinely that your cheeks flush. Without saying a word, you hop off your mare's back and bend down to bury your hands in the sand. As Halbrand dismounts, you quickly take off your shoes, lift up the fabric of your dress a little, and wade into the shallow water, which laps warmly against your skin.

You can't remember the last time you felt the ocean. As a Númenorean, you are connected to the sea on a deeper level and it feels like, right now, it's showing you how much it's missed you, like you're reuniting with an old friend. The sun is high above you, warming your skin as you close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Then you jump around the water playfully and with so much joy you haven't felt since you were a child.

Until you meet Halbrand's gaze. He is still standing where you left him, the reins of both horses in his hand, watching you enjoy yourself with so much affection in his eyes that you want nothing more than to run to him and fall into his arms, chasing the exhilarating feeling he gave you the day before.

Shyly, you slowly walk back to him through the ankle-deep water, your dress a little wet at the bottom.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asks with a smile, one hand scratching his horse behind the ears as he looks you up and down with sparkling eyes.

"Not exactly princess-like behaviour now, is it?", you shrug, eliciting a chuckle from him that gives you goosebumps and makes your heart beat faster.

"If you want my humble opinion: I think it's exactly how a princess should behave", he replies, the wrinkles around his eyes from smiling making him even more handsome in your eyes. "You shouldn't have to hide from the world."

"I wish I could come here more often", you sigh, ignoring his statement, your mood suddenly burdened by the thought that this moment of freedom will not last long and you will soon find yourself locked up inside the walls of the castle again. Halbrand's expression matches yours, but his gaze lays you bare. Feeling weak, you turn away. You stumble through the sand and finally flop onto the ground on a small dune, neatly placing your shoes next to you. Halbrand leaves the horses in your sight and joins you, sitting just a few meters next to you, your elbows touching.

For a while, neither of you says anything and you just stare out at the waves, which radiate a certain calm.

"As a child, I was very sick. An unidentified illness that was brought over from the continent. Despite having overcome it, I remained in a very weak state, requiring assistance with everything. I was not allowed to go out neither were people allowed to see me for fear of infecting me again. I was always surrounded by guards", you explain, your voice strong, but you have to pull yourself together not to sob. "Míriel was the only one who stood by my side, who made my time a little more bearable. Since our father.. has fallen sick, my sister feels even more responsible for my safety and, just like him, doesn't let me go out. She says it's for my own good and I once believed that, a long time ago. But now I doubt her concern is rooted in anything else than her own fear of losing me."

As soon as the last words leave your lips, you feel free. Free from the burden of not being able to tell anyone. But saying it out loud makes it feel so much more real. Still, pride fills you that you didn't shed a single tear. Halbrand, who was hanging on your every word, looks at you not with pity or sadness, but with a smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me. I can hardly imagine how hard that must have been for you", he tells you, speaking as if all of this is no longer your present. Maybe it's not right now, but it will be once you return.

"I have been wondering why you were locked up inside your whole life", he mutters to himself and takes a handful of sand, letting it trickle through his fingers. "And despite the prospect of freedom, you are against this marriage?"

His words hit you harder than they should, because you have to admit that you haven't given it a thought since yesterday.

"It's about her treating me like I'm a commodity that can be sold for a price", you answer, anger rising inside of you at the thought. "Either she keeps me here and risks a war or she finally lets me leave, with the ulterior motive that I at least bring some added value to Númenor. Besides, no one ever said that I would come with you once we were married."

"You think she would keep you here?", Halbrand asks, astonished. When you nod, something like determination paints his features.

"I won't allow that."

"I fear none of us will have much say in this", you sigh, exhausted and defeated, absentmindedly playing with the sand now as well. "I'm sorry you have to put up with a princess who knows nothing about this world, let alone has seen anything-"

"Don't say that", Halbrand interrupts you firmly, his eyebrows drawn together as if it physically hurts him to hear such words coming from your mouth. "You are perfect in my eyes, Princess."

You are glad he can't see the way your heart has started beating faster. What he can see, however, is the blush rising to your cheeks, which you quickly try to hide by turning your head away, pulling your knees closer to you.

"I feel like no one has ever told you how beautiful you are. In every way", he continues and you are startled when you feel his hand on your chin, gently turning your face back to him. You find it difficult to look at him, his eyes are looking at you so intensely that you no longer know which way is up and which way is down.

"Lord Halb-"

"What did I tell you about the Lord?", he chuckles, shaking his head at your cute behaviour. He loves the colour of pink your cheeks have taken on and how your eyes search his for any sign that he is lying, but you find nothing but the truth in them.

"When I told you that a princess like you doesn't belong here, I meant that a princess like you, who should be a queen, doesn't belong on this island, isolated from the world", Halbrand whispers, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek, where he gently strokes your heated skin with his thumb. "You belong in the very middle of it."

"N-No. I could never be a queen, I was not born for that", you explain, confident in your own words because it's all you have ever heard in your entire life; you would never be queen.

"I will make you a queen", he replies and the conviction with which he says this, the affection that resonates in his words and his features, makes you believe in his words. You desperately want to believe them.

"I promise I will not go without bringing you along", he assures you, holding your face in both of his hands now, his face so close to yours that you only have to lean forward a little to taste his lips. Halbrand notices this too, his gaze wanders to your lips and back to your eyes, which meet his almost pleadingly. As soon as you slightly nod, he connects your lips in a gentle but longing kiss. You gasp, never having been kissed before. Your heart feels like it will jump out of your chest at any moment, the sound of the waves blurs with your heartbeat and your hands get lost in his hair.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, both of you having to catch your breath, but you don't want to let go of him. You have no idea what this man, this inconspicuous King of the Southlands, is doing to you, but you don't want to think about it because all you know is that you finally feel like yourself again, a feeling that seems so familiar yet unknown.

"I promise I will make you a queen and if it's the last thing I do", Halbrand tells you once more, leaning his forehead against yours before leaving a gentle kiss on the side of your mouth. Smiling up at him, you waste no time to wrap your arms around his neck and connect your lips in another kiss.

You will be his queen. And then you will finally be free.

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘”

First Age Sauron/Galadriel, Phantom of the Opera/ Gothic Romance AU

First Age Sauron x Galadriel | E | 58K Complete

Summary: Inspired by “The Phantom of the Opera…” Galadriel lives a life very different from her days as Commander, now in the court of her brother Finrod, a survivor of the lupine horrors her endured with Beren. Finrod is now an Elven king in the new realm founded on the ruins of Dol Guldur. The evil is gone, or so they think. Rumors of a Phantom in the wood begin to surface, as he sabotages and steals… and seduces.

CW:Masquerades, forge sex, Vampire form sex, Annatar form, Celeborn as Roaul, Finrod with PTSD, Morgoth returns, Major character death with a glimmer of hope at the end.

Tolkien Fic Masterlist

[fannyspammy]

I neeeeed an Isildur x Reader x Halbrand love triangle fic rnnnn 😭😭😭

[storiesaplenty]

Coercion (pt. 2) ~ (18+)

Annatar (Sauron) x gn/Reader

The Rings of Power Masterlist

Part 1

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Abuse of power. Sexual Coercion. No use of protection. Creampie

WC: 783

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Annatar calls for his favourite elf once more, needing more help, but this time in 'sending a message to the Valor.'

My time here was coming to an end.

Soon, they will all know who I am.

But I had one final task, that I needed to complete.

After that happened between them and I, I knew I had to have them one last time.

So I called them to my bedchamber once more.

They were eager to please as they sat across from me, their hands clasped in front of them, on their lap.

"I need your help once more." I told them.

"I will do whatever you need me to do, my Lord."

I smiled gently at them, having them exactly where I want them.

"I know you will. That is why I called for you once more, but this time I need to send a message to the Valor, and I can not do it on my own."

"Shall I be in the same position I was in before my Lord?"

I had to hold back a moan as that image flashed in my mind. My cock twitched beneath my fabric, ready to use them once more.

"This time, it will be something different. I need you to trust me."

"I do, Lord Annatar." They seemed to sit up straighter.

"If you do then I need you to follow all of my commands without question."

"I am here for whatever you need my Lord."

"Good." I stood up, walked towards them and held out my hand for them to take. They placed their hand in mine, and I helped them stand.

"Now listen to me carefully so I can send the message to Valor."

My hands were running up and down their back as I tried to sooth them.

"You must relax." I could feel that they were trying to relax as I placed my cock at their hole.

I didn't blindfold them this time, but I did have them facing away from me.

"Good. Now this part may hurt just a bit." I said as I pushed the tip in.

I could hear them let out a whimper of pain, as I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud.

I pushed inch by agonising inch inside their body. Their hole stretching to accommodate me as best as it could.

Once I was flushed against their bottom, I told them how well they did for me.

That I can now send a message to the Valor.

"Now I will have to move just a bit to speed it up, but no fret little one, this won't take long."

It wouldn't, not with how they are tightening up around my cock.

I pulled back slowly, and gently thrust back in, listening for any discomfort.

I wanted them at my mercy for as long as I could have them before they realise who I am.

"The speed of which I need to send the message will change. Just need you not to move and it will be all okay."

"Yes my Lord." They cried out as I started to thrust into them a bit harser.

I tried to keep my noises to myself, but when I heard them cry out my name, I couldn't hold back any longer.

I let out a lewd moan that I was holding in.

"Almost finished." I told them as I sped up my pace.

Sounds of skin hitting skin could be heard in the room.

The noises falling from their lips had me wishing I could pull out and cum down their throat once more, but this time, I wanted to finish in them as I claimed their body for mine.

"Lord Annatar, I feel funny." They whined, placing their head in their hands.

"Do not mind it. Let it happen." I grunted.

I closed my eyes as my teeth clenched as their hole started to flutter around my cock.

They came probably for the first time in their life and that had me bucking my hips one last time before I stilled.

I shouted out "VALOR." to make it seem like I was sending a message as I filled their still fluttering hole with my cum.

"You did well once again." I finally said as I pulled out of them.

I watched as my cum leaked out of them slowly.

"Now, this was just between us. Remember that." I told them as they slowly got off my bed.

"Yes Lord Annatar."

The both of us got dressed, they were silent and I paid them no mind.

As they reached the door to leave, they turned back to me.

"If you need anymore help Lord Annatar, please know that I am always here."

A soft smile came over my face.

"I will. Thank you."

[honeyfarts666]

Halbrand’s Garden - Hidden somewhere in the Greenwood

A moodboard I made for the latest chapter of An Ocean of Tears. All vibes for Redeemed!SauronAU included.

Read the fic on Ao3