#halbrand x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sansaorgana · 1 day ago

Text

— IN PERPETUITY (I)

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — Two most powerful Lieutenants of Morgoth and twisted lovers in private form a pact through cursed marriage to become their master's equal successors and rule Middle-earth together. He, however, has other plans and does not intend to share. She takes the matters into her own hands.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The idea for this fic showed up in my head while I was working on a different fic with a Maia!Reader, in which she is good and pure and all that. And that other story will be finished and posted, too, but with a delay because I focused on this one first. 🙈 The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. This fic will have a second part with Annatar!Sauron but in this part you get only Jack Lowden!Sauron because that ginger loser needs some love and attention as well. 😭🥰 The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, betrayal, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking/pact/magic, mentions of Sauron being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,650

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (I)

It was no surprise to any of The Valar that you were one of the first to follow Morgoth. You always found it troublesome to obey the orders, to show respect or loyalty. As if you had been already created flawed, although no one dared to question Eru’s decisions.

The gods were aware, however, that Morgoth wanted you as his servant as well for he was a god like them. Therefore, they expected you to come back with your tail between your legs, begging for their forgiveness since they were much more merciful masters than he ever would be.

Nevertheless, that did not happen and you became one of the most loyal Lieutenants to the Dark Lord. You sometimes amazed your own self with the amount of cruelty you were able to inflict. Perhaps Eru himself had created you this way indeed – perhaps you were evil by his design. Dark creatures like Morgoth or you were needed to emphasise the lightness – cursed outcasts to show an example.

Morgoth did not even need to break you as much as others who had followed him. He did not feel the need to rebuild you or push you as far as most of his followers because it did not take much for you to become the very worst version of yourself.

You were the lucky one.

Mairon was not.

You could hear his whimpers and screams of pain as he was tortured. And you watched and watched in awe at him transforming with Morgoth's help into the man that would from now on be known as Sauron amongst many.

But to you he would remain Mairon. And Mairon watched you in awe, too.

He observed you with admiration and curiosity. He wanted to be more like you – so terrifyingly beautiful in your art of cruelty. And he was learning the craft from you.

Until, eventually, with your master's help and by his twisted design, Mairon became a Lieutenant as loyal and fierce as you.

And each time he failed at a task given to him by Morgoth, he would come to you first, seeking comfort and hoping you would ease your master before their encounter – like a child would come to their mother, fearing their father's anger.

Everyone knew Morgoth was gracing you with a special treatment. And even though it was unlikely he was able to feel any real affection towards you, many knew that you were the only Lieutenant of his that he actually cared about because you were the only one who abandoned The Valar thoroughly and wholly.

You did not care about him, though. The Valar were right – you did not enjoy being under him; under anyone. And you truly hated the destruction that he was causing as you could not understand the desire of becoming the King of ashes.

You wanted to be the Dark Lady yourself and you often fantasised what you would do if you were him. His god-like status did not intimidate you and you could not care less whether it was a blasphemy or not to imagine yourself as a Vala. No god had ever intimated you.

You were your own god and you wanted to rule over the world. To make it perfect and harmonious.

You became closer with Mairon when you sensed his heart was corrupted with the same thoughts and feelings. And while your Maiar bodies remained focused on the battles and schemes – so unfamiliar with the carnal desires of the flesh – as you spent more and more time together and he shared with you his dream of forging the very special and powerful Rings, you could feel the strange and odd desire growing within you.

One day, you gave in to them.

You heard his screams of pain throughout the fortress like the ones back in the day when Morgoth had been shaping him to his whim and design. Now he was punishing him for one of his failures and your master’s wrath was undeniable.

Mairon was one of his best Lieutenants, therefore Morgoth expected from him the most.

And when the punishment ended, Mairon found himself knocking weakly upon the doors of your chambers. You opened them and gasped at the state of his flesh. He was too weak to heal himself fully, allowing the bruises to form and cuts to bleed.

You welcomed him and laid him down in your bed before tangling your limbs with his; his face buried in your chest as your fingers brushed his ginger hair and gently teased his pointy ears.

"My poor Mairon," you whispered and leaned in to place a kiss upon his temple.

He looked up at you with devotion.

Unlike you, he had been once Eru’s perfect creation – Mairon had been pure in his past, worshipping the Valar like he had been designed to. The Valar were no more in his heart but the devotion remained and you were the subject of it.

"Let me ease your pain," you spoke softly and caressed his cheek with your fingers, making the small cuts disappear as bruises began to fade away. He closed his eyes and sighed out of relief. "Where else can I aid you, my Mairon?" You asked as his eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Everywhere," he breathed out. "I need you everywhere, my Lady."

The odd desire you had been fighting within you for a long time now apparently was not one-sided. Perhaps a Maia fallen was a Maia burdened with such humiliating and carnal needs.

You rolled him over onto his back as you sat astride him with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Maybe it was not a burden... Maybe it would be a new adventure, a new path to follow.

You got rid of his robes in a haste as his hands weakly caressed your thighs wherever they could reach under your dress. And once he was naked for you – under you – you felt like an animal, driven by the urges you could not stop.

That felt ungodly.

Your fingers curled on his chest, scratching the flesh and you watched your nails leave red trails upon his pale skin. Instead of healing him, you only added more to the pain but the pathetic whimpers leaving his mouth were not of suffering but of pleasure.

"Yours..." was all he gasped as your pupils widened even further. Yours... How good it felt to have him at your mercy.

You were like Morgoth himself now with Mairon laid out for you, eager for you to shape him the way you wished him to be.

And you loved to feel like Morgoth, to share at least a tiny bit of his power. The realisation was enough to make you feel the itch deep inside the heat of your core.

"Mine..." you nodded at Mairon and grasped his length to squeeze it, watching him wince as the flesh hardened under your touch.

You kept pumping him and observing all his sighs, eye rolls and the tremble of his thighs. His eyes filled with tears as he kept bravely staring up at you despite his vision getting blurry and hazy.

Your pace quickened and you used your free hand to caress his thighs gently as if you were trying to soothe them but it only caused them to tremble more while you watched his body giving in to your touch so eagerly and easily.

All of the sudden, just to tease him, you stopped your hand's rapid movements and squeezed the swollen tip. Mairon whined and bucked his hips desperately, the tip of his cock pulsating under your thumb. When you let go of him completely, he spilled himself with a groan and blushing cheeks as his hips kept rutting into nothing.

What a pathetic and yet delicious sight it was. You felt the wetness between your legs leaking down your thighs already.

“You're so fun to play with, my Mairon," you pointed out. "I wish our master allowed me to be the one responsible for your punishments."

"I wish that, too, my Lady," he breathed out, putting his hand on his chest, surprised to feel how fast his heart pounded.

"It is not over yet," you pouted. "You spoiled my fun by giving in to your desires so quickly."

You smirked and with one swift movement you took your dress off to throw it on the floor, revealing your naked form to him. You adjusted yourself and grabbed his cock once more, so swollen and sensitive, which caused Mairon to whimper. You lowered yourself slowly on his length, hissing at the new experience of feeling full.

Your eyes rolled all the way to the back as you threw your head and scratched Mairon's chest when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you and brushing all the right spots that made you aware of pleasures of the flesh you had never even known of before.

"Divine," he breathed out and you rolled your hips slowly with a whine.

When you adjusted to the slightly burning feeling, your eyes opened with a sparkle of mischief as you began riding him – faster and faster with each given bounce, keeping your eye contact with him although his vision was too hazy to see you clearly.

It was like a trance and you lost track of time. The Maiar needed no rest, therefore it could have been days – maybe even weeks – spent on nothing else but fucking yourself on his cock, using him for your own, newlyfound pleasure; reaching your highs countless of times and beginning all over and over again until the matters much more important than indulging yourselves interrupted your blissful state.

"One day, there will be only the two of us," Mairon whispered into your ear as he watched you getting dressed in front of the mirror. "And we will not leave our chambers for a whole century."

"Would you leave your kingdom unattended for such a long time?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I certainly would not," you added harshly and fixed your gown's corset one last time before leaving him behind inside your chambers as you walked out with your head held high and back straightened.

With an illusion of dignity that was supposed to hide the fact you had just spent long and endless days on worshipping Mairon’s flesh with nothing but pleasure and devotion as he had been only laying there and receiving and you had been the one to do all the work like he was the master you served.

After Morgoth's defeat, Mairon and you both were the only ones who could possibly become your master's successors for you were his most powerful Lieutenants.

Instead of starting a war between yourselves, you chose to create a pact of taking over Morgoth's legacy together as equals.

The holy bond of marriage was the most suitable way to seal this union for all eternity, especially when it seemed that you two shared the same goal and the same vision of healing Middle-earth and crafting it to fit your peaceful ideal.

The oath had nothing to do with the holy Valinor's customs. You used forbidden dark magic to bind you two together in perpetuity; mixing your black bloods together and drinking the cursed mixture from the cup as you exchanged the rings forged by Mairon himself with your aid; made of dark iron and with powerful spells engraved on them.

Adar was the master of your ceremony. He had stayed by your side after Morgoth's defeat and Mairon had promoted him to the rank of Lieutenant because you two needed smart and loyal people – especially if they had a whole army of the Orcs following their every order.

You could sense your marriage pact with Marion was making Adar a little uncomfortable. He was watching you carefully throughout the ceremony and also during the feast where he was sitting nearby.

Mairon's behaviour was surprising you a little. Never before he had been so open with the amount of his devotion towards you. And now, despite the audience of the Orcs and the fallen Elves, he was all over you, kissing your neck between the sweet nothings whispered into your pointed ear as his fingers intertwined with yours under the table to squeeze your hand.

He was like a dog, you thought, but you could not blame him. He had admired you from the very beginning of his service to Morgoth and now he had you as his spouse. You allowed him to enjoy himself because it was the day of your wedding.

For you, it was more of a transaction. You cared about Mairon to some extent and your flesh enjoyed to fuck his but there was nothing in this world that you would love more than power.

"My Lady, can we talk?" Adar approached you when you were left alone for a moment.

You looked up, surprised, but the seriousness of his expression was making it obvious that the matter was rather important.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" You asked him as you followed him to the dark corner of the room where you could hide in the shadows together.

"I am a bearer of the bad news, I am afraid," Adar started and you furrowed your brows.

"Did Elven armies find our fortress?" You asked.

"No. Not the bad news of this kind," he lowered his voice even more and he glanced at Mairon from the corner of his eye.

You looked at your husband, too. He was talking to some of the fallen Elves and his excitement was revealing that he probably discussed his plans for the future.

"Do continue," you nodded at Adar, looking back at him with curiosity.

"Mairon does not plan to share anything with you," he informed you. "He re-fired Morgoth's crown to fit himself."

Your blood turned cold at the revelation. Morgoth's crown was supposed to be melted and turned into two smaller but equal crowns. That was the deal between you and Mairon – two spouses, two crowns, two Rings, one kingdom.

You glanced once more at your husband. How innocent he seemed at the moment, how devoted to you. And yet…

Your own student outsmarted you in the art of cunning treachery, so it seemed. You gritted your teeth.

"How do you know?" You asked Adar just to make sure.

"I was there," he answered with a hint of smirk, knowing very well that his delay of bringing you the news created a new problem for you.

"And you are telling me this only now? After I am bound to him forever?" Your jaw clenched out of anger as you realised.

"I have been a loyal servant to your husband and it still pains me to betray him by telling you the truth but I must think of my children first and at this very feast I overheard his plans for the Uruk. I cannot let this happen," he revealed and you sighed. You knew what plans he was talking about.

Mairon had never considered the Orcs to be smart creatures, therefore he often was speaking freely and openly about what he planned to do with them or what he was thinking of them because he thought they would not even understand.

Perhaps they would not but their Lord Father would.

"I have never been fond of your children either, Adar," you reminded him.

"Yet you make a better ally than he. I know you can give up on enslaving the Uruk if I helped you to rule over Middle-earth with their army in return. Alone. A Queen with no King," he whispered and his tempting words sent a shiver down your spine.

After a very short moment of hesitation – which surprised you to exist at all – you nodded at Adar.

“Say no more,” you whispered.

And when Mairon informed you a few weeks after your wedding that he wanted to be crowned soon and that he wished for you to be the one to put Morgoth’s crown onto his head, you agreed with a sweet smile that should have made him realise how false it was. But he was too relieved with the fact that you seemed to have no problem at all with giving him the most important title, therefore he did not notice the coldness of your gaze.

"My dear," he kneeled in front of you while you were sitting on the edge of your bed and he held your hands softly in his as he leaned in to kiss them. "It brings me so much joy to know it will be you to lay the crown onto my head. I do not wish for anyone else to bless me for I would not be here if it was not for you."

"Indeed, my sweet Mairon," was all you said with a scolding gaze but, once again, he chose not to see it. “My King,” you added with irony – one more time the tone of your voice remained ignored.

Sometimes, he would use his illusions to fool even himself. And that very thing would turn out to be his demise.

“You will be my right hand, my Queen, my goddess,” he kept assuring you and kissing the palms of your hands as you kept gritting your teeth.

His right hand, he dared to say. You were supposed to be one body, one soul. His Queen and yet she would bear no crown – not the same as his at least. His goddess but his devotion was a lie. He loved power more than he loved you.

But you loved power more than you loved him as well, so it was only fair.

And how else could you repay for his betrayal if not with a betrayal in return?

You already had a whole plan formed with Adar and all you had to do now was to patiently wait for the day of the coronation. You truly hoped that Morgoth's crown was powerful enough to kill your husband, so he could exist no more and so would the bond of blood magic between you be broken forever.

You were wearing beautiful, matching robes with your husband and your only audience were the Orcs and Adar, who was holding Morgoth’s crown as Mairon decided to give a speech to his new army.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept glancing at the re-fired and re-shaped crown with a bitter and sour expression.

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again. Morgoth is gone,” your husband announced to the Orcs. “Leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and you exchanged a meaningful look with Adar at the sight of Mairon’s fingers fidgeting nervously. “Under me. Your new master. Sauron.”

It should have been you. Giving the speech. Being crowned. And you would be. Soon. Very soon.

However, you loved the dramatics as much as your husband. And you would gladly allow him to make a fool out of himself first.

“And with a new age, I bring a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest. For I seek a new kind of power,” Mairon raised his right hand as he spoke, posing to be some sort of a sage sharing his wisdom. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will.”

The Orcs seemed to be content with his words and for that one thing you admired him, actually – the way he always knew what to say to make people follow him and be enamoured with his visions.

You knew that he did not care about what the Orcs wanted and the words he was using now were nothing but a temptation for them to obey his orders. But it was them he wanted enslaved, not the others. The others were meant to be healed.

“Many Orcs will die,” Mairon added and you felt Adar moving uncomfortably. The Orcs did not seem to be as happy as before and you could not blame them. You glanced at your husband with a raised eyebrow.

Sometimes, even the ones most graced with a gift of the golden speech, would say a sentence too many.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon smiled, excitedly and you rolled your eyes. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but he was overdoing himself, it was too much and the Orcs were not as stupid as he believed them to be.

You could sense their nervousness and you could hear their whispers in the Black Speech: “Sauron lies”.

It brought you lots of satisfaction as you smirked to yourself, however you had to hide that smile quickly because your husband’s eyes desperately seeked for yours. He needed your comfort and your encouragement, so pathetically. So desperate to prove his worth as he had always been.

You nodded at him with a sympathetic smile, playing a role of a dutiful and supportive wife.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he began once more but his voice slightly weakened as he did so and then he clasped his hands while his voice suddenly turned darker. He decided to use a different tactic. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

Perhaps you were not as skilled as he was with your speeches but you knew that this was not the way to lure the Orcs. It was not the way to lure anyone. Mairon was losing control – even the fact his hands were clasped was only trying to hide how shaky they had become.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” he continued as the Orcs began to growl. In that moment, you were glad you had your pact with Adar, because otherwise you would not feel safe amongst them.

Suddenly, one of the Orcs standing closest to Mairon attacked him with his blade, making an assassination attempt. Your husband swiftly defended himself and slit his throat, for which you were glad.

You would kill that Orc yourself if he maimed Mairon before you could lay your hands on him. He was yours to slaughter.

As the creature dropped down to his knees and continued choking on his own blood, you watched Mairon pull the Orc even closer and watch his suffering with the same fascinated expression as you had used to watch him when he had been reshaped by Morgoth.

And then, he finished the assassin off with his own blade being put into the Orc’s skull. Over and over again as Adar flinched at the sight of his son being treated this way and the Orcs kept growling in anger.

And you, in that moment – for a short while – actually considered following your husband like you had once followed Morgoth. To forgive him his betrayal and to play along the role of a dutiful wife.

His cruelty spurred you on as you watched and watched, refusing to look away until the Orc’s body hit the floor and Mairon threw away the blade to fix his ginger hair that had gotten messy from the fight.

You could sense his frustration. His blood was now flowing in your veins just like yours was flowing in his.

“I am your only future and my path is your only path!” He yelled at the Orcs, fury and rage filling him whole and causing the veins of his face to fill up and swell with his thick and black blood.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. The admiration you had felt not even a minute earlier was all gone now and once again you felt ashamed of your husband.

Morgoth had never yelled desperately like that to get respect. He had never threatened – not so openly. His very presence had been enough to follow him out of fear.

“Who among you dare say otherwise?” Mairon asked, more calmly now.

Soon, he would find out who exactly dared.

But so far, he still trusted you. He turned his head around and nodded at you, his eyes filled with faith.

You nodded back and took Morgoth’s crown from Adar’s hands. It was heavy and powerful as its dark magic vibrated from it all throughout your body when you carried it towards the crowd.

The Orcs were snarling at you when you raised your hands with the crown, not pleased at all that you were about to lay it upon your husband’s head.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord.”

The Orcs hesitated but they followed what their Lord Father said.

“All hail!” They chanted and you walked away to your husband, who had just kneeled for you.

Like in the old days, before all the battles Morgoth had been sending him to. Mairon would kneel and you would bless him with your sword.

You raised your hands once more as a thrill of excitement went through your body. Mairon looked up at you through the crown placed above his head and you could spot the hint of doubt. Your bond worked both ways and he could sense something disturbing about you but you soothed him with a soft and fake smile.

Unsurely, he lowered his head once more and looked down, waiting for you to grace his head with the burden of the crown.

And the crown was a burden indeed. So full of dark and powerful magic that you knew already it was most certainly enough to kill a spirit like your husband.

You turned it around in a swift movement and lowered it with all your strength to stab him in the back of his neck as the crown’s poison infected his veins and made him move back out of the sudden pain.

You took the crown away from him and took a few steps back to stand next to Adar as the Orcs began screaming and approaching you all. Mairon’s eyes were full of surprise and disappointment and he kept them only on you as you graced him with the same soft smile you had been giving him for weeks now; for him to finally realise how false it was all this time.

“You could have kept your promise, my pet,” you told him in the Quenya language.

Your words angered him and he tried to stand up with his weakened limbs to fight you but in that very moment a group of Orcs attacked him all at once, stabbing his flesh continuously as you watched. He was making an attempt to fight them back and for the state he was in, he was truly doing well, but they were too many and he was alone.

And even if some part of you would truly mourn for your husband, the dark item in your hand with his blood dripping down on the floor from its iron spikes was enough to bring your mind back on the right path.

And as the Orcs kept stabbing his body, which was laying now in the puddle of dark and sticky blood, you raised the crown once more and put it on your own head, feeling Mairon’s blood dripping from it onto your face.

You licked your lips to get the taste. For the one last time you tasted him as you smirked.

You turned your head around to nod at Adar and he nodded back at you.

All hail the New Dark Lady.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

117 notes · View notes

bamsywrites · 10 hours ago

Text

And Comes Dawn pt 13

Ship: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Plot: It's all for his Sweet one.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags: vomiting, manipulation, alludes to executions, sauron is a weird dude

Notes: this isn't super heavily edited bc im lazy. I wanted to write this part because ofc angst but I wanted to do the reveal before I fucked around with annatar and s2 stuff. I'll go back and forth now between before reveal and after.

Leave a tip if you want.

Halbrand sat on the bed you shared, water dripping from his hair and picking at the skin of his palms. It was a habit he had picked up from you. The moment you walked into the room, you could tell there was something on his mind. You waited for him to speak first, knowing that he would tell you his thoughts without you bothering him with questions. You didn't want to overwhelm him, after all. You simply waited for a few moments before he spoke.

“Have you seen Galadriel?” He asked, his voice was different than usual. Deeper. Almost darker. He didn't look at you, his eyes focused intently on a place on the floor.

“I have not.” You shook your head and approached him. “My love, what is bothering you so?”

Halbrand wet his lips, “Galadrel has discovered my secret.” He must have suspected your confusion, for he continued. “I am not who she thinks. I am not who you think. I am no King of the Southlands.”

You sat next to him on the bed, your brow furrowed in confusion, but you took his hand and held it in yours, lacing your fingers with his. His thumb fidgeted with the ring on your finger, a subtle way of showing you he was there.

“You do not have to be anything you do not wish to be. You know I will be by your side, whatever path you travel.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head, “Sweet one, you misunderstand.”

It seemed that he was trying to find words, but they would not come. You waited for him to speak, but a gnawing had begun in your stomach, an anxiety that started to become overwhelming. You squeezed his hand to remind him you were there, to remind him you cared but also to release the tension that was building inside of you.

“I am not the descendant of a king. I am not a man called Halbrand. I am not even a man.”

You furrowed your brow further as your mind swarmed with the possibilities of what he was saying. Unfortunately, none of your most outlandish thoughts could even scratch the surface of the revelation that was to come.

“Who are you then?”

“I've had many names,” He still could not bring himself to look at you. His palm was red at where he had been picking his skin. His voice changed again, to the most vulnerable you'd ever heard from him.

“My first was Mairon. The Admirable. But the one you know me by, that all know me by, is Sauron.”

The world stopped for you in that instance. Your ears started to ring, and you felt sick. Everything your father had told you, every story you'd heard from the elves, or read in the books filled your mind all at once. Sauron the Deceiver, your father had called him the Deliverer as he would bring swift and violent justice to the elves and bring peace. The stories talked of his face changing. Of his ability to be whatever the person he was deceiving needed most. You could still see the handiwork of him and his master scared into the landscape of your home. You'd read of scores of elves and men and all forms of life that he had willfully murdered in pursuit of power.

That wasn't Halbrand.

Not your Halbrand.

You shook your head and scoffed, letting go of his hand. “This isn't funny, Halbrand.”

He finally looked towards you, reaching for your hand once more and frowning when you pulled it away. “That is not my name. You know it to be true. Search your soul.”

“No, you're Halbrand. You are not him. You're not the great deciver. You are my Halbrand.” You rubbed your hands against your knees, trying to rationalize what he was saying.

Perhaps he was sick. Perhaps the fumes of the forge were affecting him. Or his wound wasn't fully healed, and the enemy poison was altering his mind.

“You are not entirely wrong, my dear. I am yours and I have never decived you. Not like I have others. I have never lied to you, not about more than my name. I just omitted certain truths.”

You felt bile rise from your stomach to your throat, “No. No, you said your father was a blacksmith.”

“Aule, yes. Though he wasn't a father in the way that you think of a father.”

You swallowed thickly as your mind reeled with all the things he'd said of his family and past. His falling out with his ‘father’ and his uncle. If he was Sauron, truly, there was only one being that could be.

“Then your uncle….are saying your uncle was…” the name wasn't able to pass your lips.

“Morgoth. Again, not exactly the truth but as close as you could understand,” He spoke for you, and you're startled up and off the bed, pacing and shaking your head.

This was not possible. You could not believe this.This was your Halbrand. The man you loved. The man who had just a week prior made his intentions of marrying you known. You were to be married. You were absentmindedly fidgeting with the ring he had given you, spining it around your finger as you paced.

“You cannot be he, he is dead. The uruk, Adar, said he killed him. There have been no signs of him for an age.”

He sighed, watching your pacing form. He seemed distraught almost. He could not feel anything like that if he was truly who he said he was. Sauron would not despair at the thought of your turmoil. Sauron would have no purpose in manipulating you. You could bring him nothing of gain.

Unless this was a reward for your fathers deeds. That small voice crept into your mind, and you did your best to push it the back. He was ill, that's why he was making this claim.

“He left me for dead, and I stayed in that place for many lifetimes. I was neither dead nor alive, simply there. As dead as a being such as I can be. I wasted and waited, and suddenly, I felt solid. I could sense my surroundings. I could move, if only barely. It was a mystery. By all accounts, I should have remained in that purgatory forever.”

His fingers grasped yours, and the room around you disappeared, changing until it was a village. Or what was left of a village. Homes were burning, and the sounds or screams filled the air.

“No.” You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You clamped them shut and clasped your hands over your ears to drown the sound of the screams, but the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled your senses. You shook your head over and over. You wished the sight and sounds to be gone. You could not deny it now. No man could cause travel such as this.

He'd transported you to the night your family slaughtered the elves.

The night he'd regained just a semblance of his power.

Suddenly, you could sense light behind your eyes, and you were back on the raft at sea. Upon opening your eyes, his appearance had changed to the dirty rags he'd worn when you were stranded.

“It felt like days, compared to the millenia I spent as nothing, but I have recently found out it was years. Years of gathering my strength to take on this form. 15 years, to be exact.”

Your lip tremebed, shaking your head. “No. No, that's not true. That's not…no.” You were despretatley looking for an answer. “My father did not…no…”

“He did. I am indebted to him and his sacrifice. Not just for bringing me back but for you.” He approached you, the raft shaking under you with his movements.

You backed away from him, the bile rising in your stomach, and suddenly, you were retching. Your body bent in half as you vomited into the sea. You could feel him inside you. His love felt like sludge, weighing down your soul and moving through your veins. This could not be real, but you knew it was. He was too good to be true. He was exactly what you needed when he landed in your life. You were not worthy of the love of a king.

But it all made sense now.

There was nothing special about you. Not truly. He wanted his domination and control and power. You were inconsequential to that. He simply chose you because he knew who you were. This was some reward for your father. Tears pricked at your eyes.

You thought you were special. You thought this was love..

“Is it really so bad?” He spoke, placing a hand on your back. You hated how it felt. It was heavy and hot, and you wanted it off. You felt violated.

“I guess it is.” He answered his own question, his fingers wrapped around your chin and forced you to look at him.

“I did not deceive you. I love you. You are the only thing I have ever loved. I told the elf I would place a crown on her head, and that is true, but only because it would assist my true goal. To give the peoples of Middle Earth peace. To give you peace and safety, and stability. Your safety is more precious than any crown or title. All I do is for you. You are precious to me.” his fingers caressed your cheeks, and he smiled softly.

His smile made you sick.

“You mean to enslave my people.”

“Enslave? No. I will free them from the binds of poverty and war and famine.”

“By what means will you free them? It is not freedom if it is force.”

“Are you not listening?!” He boomed, lightning crashed behind him, and thunder boomed. The waves crashed over the raft. You yelped and flinched, closing your eyes tight again.

Once again, the world around you shifted. You were back in your room. Your lip trembled as you looked at him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Sweet one, I'm sorry. Please. You need not fear me, sweet one. The world should fear but not you. Never you.”

You kept backing away from him. You did not know what to think. He was the villain of your history, og all the free people's history. He was evil. He was darkness. He was plauge and death and deciet. He could only destroy.

“It was all fake.”

“No! No. Don't you see, the only good in me is you.” He followed you until you were backed into a corner, your fingers splayed over the cold material of the wall. This is a reminder that this room was real.

You watched him for a moment, your mind replaying through every memory, but they were distorted now, as if you were watching a play. Your mind was reeling. Just hours early, you'd been in this room with him, talking of your wedding and cuddled into his chest.

“You do this all for me, but you must now I can never be by your side as long as you intend to destroy.” You spoke with a sense of courage you had only just began to develop. Your heart was breaking, but you would not break in front of him. If he were to kill you…..

“Kill you? Do you think I mean to kill you? I could never kill you. In fact, I seek the opposite. I need you. If you can't be by my side, I must know you exist in this world, or I will be driven into madness!”

“How do you read my thoughts?” Your voice was quiet, terrified.

“Because you trust me. I trust you. I respect you. I never look into your mind unless I must. It is not so much reading your thoughts as it is being able to feel it.”

You shook your head, eyes closed tight.

“Do you truly insist on staying with the elves? Do you truly think they will not suspect you to have a hand in all this? That they won't do to you what they did to your family."

As he spoke, the room changed once more.

You were in an elven courtyard. Three men stood at the center. You could see where a little girl stood and watched confused and alone. You could hear Elronds pleas that this was abhorrent to make you watch, that he could not stay silent.

The memory froze. Your eyes looked upon your father for the first time in years. Tears dripped down your cheeks.

“You never saw it. Elrond, ever the soft hearted, took you away, but you could hear it. The sound of your brother screaming. The crunch of their bones as they fell. How they had to take a sword to your uncle because he wouldn't die. Do you think you will be saved from their fate?”

You stayed silent, your jaw tight as you looked ahead and away from him.

“Look at me! Do not ignore me! I am trying to save you!” Lighting cracked again. His voice took a terrible tone as if he spoke from the depths of the abyss.

You shook your head, tears pouring from your eyes now. “We were supposed to have a family.”

Your words were soft, quiet, and broken. It was enough that the fire inside of him calmed. The scene around you changed once more, and he simply looked at you.

His sweet one.

You were beautiful. He always had loved beauty and perfection, and you were both. And now you were scared, and he was the cause. He was never to be the cause, only to protect. It had frustrated him at first, infuriated that he could not seem to wish you harm, and if he ever did hurt you, he would apologize and feel guilt. He had hated it, but now, it was part of him.

He had two parts now, it seemed. The darkness and what little light he had left. The light was dying. He knew it. He could not stop the pursuit of these rings of control and power to bring peace and prosperity. He had to remake the world for you as well for his own selfish ambition. But the pursuit of these rings would make him truly unredeemable. It would destroy that last thread of good.

It was worth it. To protect you,anything was worth it. He would keep you safe, no matter the cost, no matter the loss of life. But that small part of him that was still a semblance of good, the part of him that you had resurrected, told him he could not force you with him. He could not clip your wings and force you in a cage. You had to come because you wanted to, you had to join him of your own will.

And you would, after the prosperity and peace, you would see it all to be worth it.

“I will never force you with me. I have never forced anything upon you. You will make that choice when you see the results.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “And when that happens, we will have our family.”

“I will fight against you.”

“You will lose, but you wouldn't be the woman I love if you didnt fight at first” Another kiss, and then he looked over your features as if committing every one of them to memory.

“This is all for you, sweet one. Do not forget it.”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #rings of power x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc

72 notes · View notes

sun-snatcher · 2 days ago

Text

( credits to @perryabbott for this phenomenal gifset ! )

1/? | SEAWARDS, TO YOU. ; REPENTANT!AU

summ. Mairon Sauron repents. The Valar test his resolve. or: A Seabird meets a Jailbird. pairing. (Repentant!Mairon/Sauron) Halbrand / f!reader w.count. 4k a/n. AU!s1 in which the Valar are the ones who habit Sauron into Halbrand’s body , Númenor timeline is extended , Reader has an established Númenórean name , Galadriel’s call-to-arms is Sauron’s temptation , The Valar are just curious which path he’ll take atp

[This looks to be setting up for a series... Feel free to send requests so we can explore this AU together!]

HE BEHOLDS A LIGHT.

And then— and then.

Grief follows.

Great and bitter and relentlessly pitiless.

It swallows him whole— spirit and body and thought alike— an all-consuming maw of devouring sorrow that he’d been forcefully severed from. All that Melkor— no, Morgoth— had sought to smother and sunder from his very esse, stirring back to life from where it’d first been cast to the black depths, like a scalding brand of hot iron against skin.

An eternal, burning reminder.

RETRIBUTION—

—howls the great Winds.

It muffles his screams from unseen heights. Pure, unadulterated agony; his heart aflame of every pain he’d ever wrought throughout the age, throughout the centuries—

It takes a moment for him to realise he’s dying.

Enough, comes a soft-rising lament. He despairs. He is not yet forsaken.

The voice lilts like a mournful dirge, and with it had come a gentle peace, and the torture seemed to cease nigh in an instant.

Any will despair in the face of Death, booms another. It rumbles across towering pillars and a cavernous hall of light.

He is not as others. A mighty wave crashes on unseen shores. There’s a swelling cascade. He is Mairon, Maiar of Aulë.

His name lights the world alive. Other voices have come, now. A curious crowd, a divine council.

He seeks repentance---Does he deserve it?---He is dying---Irredeemable!---He has yet to weep a single tear in the name of any that is good---You would grant him a chance to inflict the same corruption?---Cast him away--- Condemn him to the Night!---He is but a servant hand of M—

A fierce billow of wind. Lashing and deafening, enough to sweep the black name into muteness; into nothingness.

INVOKE NOT THE DARKNESS HERE.

Quickly follows is a crescendo of music, a song of all Age and that carries all note of harmony, so beautifully terrifying it chills him to the bone. Strikes an utter fear in his heart he hadn’t felt since he’d first been tortured by—

“Let him speak,” commands One.

At once, All had fallen into quiet. The tides recede. The earth stills. The stars dim.

And then—

“Peace,” Mairon trembles, bowing low and terrified, guilt-ridden in his and all eyes. “I wish only for peace.”

Halbrand startles awake.

There are tears down his face.

Númenor, he remembers. He’s in the prisons of Númenor.

His senses are devoid of howling winds, of rumbling earth, and of roaring waters. No thundering night sky of stars. No agonising pain.

But then, echoing from behind, a voice resounds— delicate and openly gentle— and for a terrifying moment he thinks he might still be dreaming; that one of the Valar is speaking to him unseen once again, or perhaps the statue of Uinen graced outside his cell has come to life.

“Nightmare?”

A beat.

“…Memory,” he answers tentatively, from where he’s curled in his cot. He rubs his face awake. “Where is Galadriel?”

“Trying to win over the heart of the Queen, still.”

“Here.” Halbrand hearkens, and can see a figure shift neath the torchlight closer to the wrought bars, kneeling down to offer him a sip from a carafe of wine.

A bitter memory involuntarily resurfaces in him: A bottle of wine in his hands, red as a blood moon, feeding it to a black-haired elf chained upon a dark and nameless peak, scarred to the brink of death.

A blistering ache crawls down his nape. He grimaces.

“No than—”

The moonlight gleams. Halbrand seizes.

It’s… you .

The fair lady; from ereyesterday he’d recalled standing alongside the Captain of the Sea Guard, when he and Galadriel had first been brought before the royal court to face Tar-Míriel, and you looked like a vision of gold and ocean-blue. He had only caught a glimpse of your profile at the time, but here, now—

You’re beautiful , Mairon thinks candidly. The kind that would make men drown themselves at sea.

“…No thank you,” Halbrand repeats, significantly less bitter than before. He shifts to sit comfortably, and leans his head back against the barred wall as he carefully scrutinises your ensemble under the hanging firelight— the shell-braid hair, the fresh-water pearl jewellery, the deep-teal gown.

Princess? He reckons. No. You carry yourself light in both presence and step, but not sophisticated in the high and tight way someone of noble status tends to— not quite like Galadriel, even in all her salt-soaked mien.

Politician, perhaps? Considering the attempt at an olive branch; an out-of-place kindness if you were to compare it to the scorn from the other Númenorean folk.

Nevertheless: “I was told nobody kneels in Númenor.” Then, more scathingly: “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

The rough blatancy would have put anyone off.

But instead, you blink in surprise and laugh. It’s a soft, wind-chime of a sound, quickly ducked down so he could only catch the tail-end of your obscured, dimpled smile.

(He was surprised to find himself thinking he should have sat closer to the light to see it.)

“So says the castaway,” you volley breezily, rising back to your feet with your peace offering.

Halbrand finally stands to height before you move to leave. He’d much rather take the opportunity for a decent conversation at the very least, than stare mindlessly at the dark until something else interesting happens.

He’s tall, you come to realise. Dizzyingly so.

For someone who’d supposedly been adrift for weeks in the ocean, he looks surprisingly as hale as the she-Elf. Strong, even. It shows in the curl of his biceps, in the firm way he’s leaning down onto the bars now, forearms poking out as the sea-green shift in his eyes regard you almost inquisitively.

If not for the tell-tale signs of a bad sunburn and his salt-licked wounds, you wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from a local Númenorean sailor.

“To whom or what do I owe the pleasure of a fair maiden’s presence?”

But you aren’t so easily swayed. “Flattery will not get you far, Southlander.”

“So says the one who tried offering me wine,” he shoots, cocking his head to your bottle.

Well —

Well.

Fine. Maybe you are easily swayed. Blame the quick-wittedness of him and that cheeky, roguish smile cutting across his chapped lips.

“Offered,” you correct, uselessly. He can surely recognise it: your meek attempt to have the last say. “You’ve lost your chance.”

He hums. “Hopefully not the chance for a name, at least?”

Though it seems he’s lost that too—

A clamour descended from a distance; the jingle of skeleton keys, the sound of approaching footsteps in heavy armour. Change in guard shift, maybe, or it could be Galadriel’s escorted return. Regardless, you’re quick to gather your senses and make headway to the shadows.

“Wait—” Halbrand catches your fingers just as you turn to leave. The touch feels like a kindle; a spark of ember. “What are you called?”

“Tell no guard I was here, and I may just yet be able to tell you another day,” you whisper, before quickly slipping from his grasp.

And then you’re gone. Like sand between his fingers, like a ripple in water—

(Something, however, tinkers to the floor.)

“Who’re you talkin’ to, Southlander?” comes a snap.

(Halbrand stomps a foot on the rolling ring.)

“Myself,” he smiles.

You come the next night after.

Galadriel recognises you.

“Does your father not caution you to speak with strangers?” she bites, when she watches you poke your hand into her cell. It’s a canteen of water.

A shrug. “If you speak of the Captain, you are mistaken.” Then, almost breezily, as if a tale told by you countlessly: “More he my ward and I his charge, if nothing else. Elendil found me in a tidepool, as an infant.”

Something flashes in Galadriel’s mind. A memory that never dims: Seaside, and a skin of water she’d given to a tidal-haired half-Elf, who had been left estranged with neither friend nor kin.

She casts her eyes aside.

“Erulaitalë will begin soon,” you warn. “The guards may likely conveniently forget to bring down your dinner amid the days-long occasion.” (You leave out the obvious: And because you’d socked two of them in the face during your little tirade towards the Queen yesterday.)

Galadriel begrudgingly relents.

When you get the canteen back to offer her prison mate, he’s already looming at the bars of his cell.

“That’s not why you came, though, is it?”

He’s fidgeting with something in his hand. A mixed metal ring— silver and gold— dainty and elegant, crowned with a freshwater pearl in its centre. To someone like him the build is simple. Ordinary. But the startled look in your eyes seems to imply it’s not as meaningless as it appears.

“You ought to reshape this,” he murmurs, thumbing at the edge as he studies it. Scrutinising, almost, in his mind’s eye— like he couldn’t help a habit of assessing the details and correcting any flaws. “It’s loose.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What would a castaway like you know of craft?”

His face lights with a soft smile. (Galadriel thinks it might’ve been the most genuine she’d ever seen of him yet.) “Plenty, if you consider I was once a Smith.”

“Captivating,” you dismiss. “Now give it b—”

You reach out reflexively, but he’s quick to retreat back into the safety of his cell.

“Ah. I believe you owe me your name,” he cocks his head slowly. “Fair lady.”

A huff. It’s almost comical how your shoulders sink in defeat as he continues. “Or perhaps you’d prefer, hm, I don’t know; Seabird —?”

“Eärmaril,” you admit, reluctantly. “Now give it back, lest I cut it apart from your very fingers myself, jailbird .”

There’s a long, tense moment.

You wonder if he’ll return it to you; if he’ll continue to covet it as a method of leverage, perhaps— but then you watch him slowly make his way to lean on the bars to meet your gaze once more, and to your surprise, gestures for your hand.

You hesitate.

Halbrand patiently waits.

Then, tentatively, you reach out.

Seducer, you want to scoff—

He carefully flips your hand palm-down, slides the ring gently back in place.

—But you’re too distracted by the striking feel of him on your fingers. It’s callous, rough, strong. You’re surprised a man of his seemingly boorish nature can handle your hands this delicately at all, much less be this effortlessly charming.

“Sea-crystal,” he dazedly translates your name, once your presence had finally slipped free from the dungeon. “No?”

“A pearl,” Galadriel specifies. “The Heart of the Sea. ”

You’re back, again.

Halbrand is pleasantly surprised, to say the least. He’d half-expected you to stop showing up after the stunt he’d pulled, but there’d also been that gnawing part of him that knew (hoped) you’d return. There’s a stubbornness in you he can recognise from the she-Elf— it must be why the both of you take to each other so easily.

“It’s no Lembas,” you tell Galadriel, handing her an apple. (Fresh, still. She can smell the dew rolling down its skin.) “But it’s better than what the guards have been offering you, here.”

He knows what you’re doing, if Galadriel’s word is right. You’re trying to turn the tides towards their favour; to, at the very least, get them out of these wretched cells while the kingdom debates their fate. Getting into their good graces, however, and why you’re going the extra mile with feeding them— he’s not quite sure he’s figured that out exactly yet.

“Enlighten me, what do you stand to gain from your act of breaking proverbial way-bread?”

“Halbrand,” Galadriel warns.

“It’s fine. He’s right to be wary,” you say, before turning to him. “Is plain amity not enough of a reason?"

“Not to my esteem. Everyone has wants,” he says. “Besides, looks can oft be deceiving.”

(You can’t discern if that’s a jab or a compliment or something else entirely. Perhaps all at once.)

“And what is it you think I want, Southlander?”

He leans on the cell, studies you purposefully. “An escape. Off of this island home you’ve grown bored of. That in hopes, if the Queen should let us free, you could set sail along with us,” he says. “I think you long for a grand adventure, outside the shores of Númenor, to seek the finer joys of life beyond your charted waters.”

A stagnant moment passes.

“Hm,” you shrug, sounding unimpressed. “…Of grand adventures and finer things. That shall be my reason, then, if it is enough for you, Halbrand.”

He falters. The name rolling from your tongue sounds like the purl of a steady, clearwater stream. Like he’d been quenched of something he couldn’t quite place; of something he never noticed longed to be slated.

“What about you? What do you want?” you ask, setting the apple in his hands.

You miss the turn of Galadriel’s head.

Sauron doesn’t.

Vengeance, his heart cries instinctively, meeting Galadriel’s rallying-like gaze.

But then Halbrand blinks your way.

“Peace,” Mairon recites. “I wish only for peace.”

Someone else delivers in your stead, this time.

A cadet, who appears still wet-behind-the-ears; tanned with a mop of tight curls on his head, and holding a dissimilar kindness to your own eyes. He seems less inclined to linger in his visit, nor to entertain any of their questions.

“Where is Eärmaril?” Halbrand asks, when the cadet clarifies your supposed order to him.

“…She regrets her absence.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he says, and couldn’t bite back the demand of his tone in time.

“Occupied,” states the cadet.

“With?” Galadriel urges.

“Dealings of which are not of your concern.”

He doesn’t know either, they quickly realise, sharing a knowing glance at each other.

It’s only when five long minutes pass that the cadet concludes the bowl of scallops prepared will go stubbornly untouched out of distrust, and so decides to clear the evidence away, and turn on his heel to leave.

You fail to appear a night after.

And then the next.

Halbrand just stares at Uinen, and worries.

“Awfully hungry, are you?”

With a handful of fruit, you freeze in place. There’s a chill you feel crawling over you, the type you get when you know you’re caught red-handed; the type a child would get at the icy wrath of their father.

He’s not your father, you try to thaw. But it would be impossible to attempt that. So you allow yourself to look at him as Captain of the Sea Guard instead. “…Very much so.”

“We may not be of blood, Eärmaril, but to me you are still my eldest,” he reminds, “I’ve raised you longer than I have Isildur and Eärien.”

“Only by three years,” you dismiss, leaning back onto the kitchen counter and crossing your arms.

“You’ve been sneaking to the prison.” He doesn’t sound surprised as he puts it out in the open. You wish he would’ve at least sounded as such, even a little bit.

“The Faithful have believ—"

But having brought up that subject alone seems to effectively tip the scales against your favour. “Stop,” he says, in the authoritative tone he always uses to clinch arguments, “You will cease this madness.”

“Is that what we’re calling kindness, now?”

Elendil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You are lucky, foolish girl, that I caught on, and not any other of the Guard. Why is it you care so much for these castaways?”

I don’t know would’ve been a terrible answer, but it would’ve been an honest one. That you cannot explain the call or the pull towards them since the day those two had set foot on Númenor—

“The sea put them in your path the same way I was put upon yours. And the sea is always right.”

“That was different. You were an infant,” he corrects. “With no past to haunt you, and no intentions hidden in your heart. These are strangers.”

“Galadriel is known to Númenor. She was the Scourge of Orcs,” you defend, waving an arm. “And of H— the Southlander, I have seen nothing in him but the utter desire for peace.”

Elendil’s face twists into incredulity. “You can see that, and yet for Valandil you were seemingly blind to how involving him could have risked dismissal from the coming Sea Trials—?”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“You brought him into this!”

“He offered to help—”

“Because he has a good heart.”

“—because you declined to help in the first place!” you snap, and set the apple down with an irritated thud. “All you had to do was convince Chancellor Pharazon to consi—”

Elendil huffs your name, and it feels the verbal equivalent of him flicking your ear. “Don’t you dare fault any of this on me.”

“I am not,” you assert. “I am merely stating the truth. I can take full responsibility for everything else, but whatever fault you feel inside of yourself is not my doing.”

Your expression sinks. “And what I asked of you was simple. If you cannot do even that, then at the very least: turn your gaze inwards for once, instead of casting it across the waters.”

That seems to have knocked the wind from his sails.

(Surprisingly, yours too.)

“You know,” he sighs, after the silence stretched for a moment. “You are so much like your mother, sometimes.”

“She’s—” Not my mother, you defy reflexively. Though that would’ve been unfair. She may not have been your mother, but you will always be her daughter; she had raised and cherished and loved you as her very own nonetheless; had chivvied and taught you the ways of water and the world better than anybody ever could have. “—She’s gone.”

“She lives in you. I can see it. Everyday,” he says.

But that is all the grief he allows you to see. His hard, insular gaze set back into place, and suddenly you’ve found Elendil of the Sea Guard, again, as he goes to swipe the bag from your hands.

Later— much, much later, in fact— you learn Elendil’s following meeting with the castaways that night goes a little something like this:

A cut-glass voice, and a stomp of his feet. “Ever since you two driftwoods have sailed into my path,” echoes Elendil, “A discourse has been sown between me and my daughter.”

“What damage could we possibly have done,” Galadriel says in an undertone, watching him stride in. “Locked in a cage like beasts since our arrival?”

Halbrand shoots her a chiding look. Let me handle this. “Our… sincerest apologies, Captain. We did not intend as such. Your daughter merely extended us a kindness.”

A snort. It’s Galadriel’s.

“I don’t know what she sees in the both of you.” Elendil sighs, and a deep set frown makes itself known on his weary face. The Captain stops short at the foot of Uinen’s statue. “Perhaps a reflection of herself,” he continues, admiring the stone-carved hair blend into crested waves of the sea. “A key to understanding it.”

There’s a cold, calculative look in his eyes as he turns to face them. It’s nothing like the one you wear— warm, assessing. But there’s a kindness, still, in both of you; where the familial thread connects.

It seems you’ve managed to pluck that chord.

“Erulaitalë is a week-long trip to and fro. With the storms we’ve been having, maybe more. I’ve managed to get the both of you an audience with the Queen before then,” he lays the bag of fruit to their cells. “Tomorrow you will have a chance to plead your case. But whatever is commanded of me, I will obey. So for the sake of my daughter, and for yourselves, I ask you tread lightly .”

The last line is said pointedly at Galadriel.

“Thank you,” Halbrand says. It’s forced— but genuine.

Galadriel says it too, though the day after; and not to the Queen nor Elendil, but to you, after the audience had gone as well as it could have.

Tar-Míriel now considers them guests of the island while she travels to perform her duties amid Erulaitalë, though they will be surveilled for the time being until her return, and will personally ensure the matter of their fate be seen to by then.

Throughout the final mandate, however—

Ivory white is a beautiful colour on you, Halbrand concludes, distractedly.

“Glad to see the Captain didn’t lock you up in a tower,” he says after, as the Guards unlock his shackles. “Do you always have a tendency to help strays? To beachcomb for flotsam and jetsam that wash ashore?”

“A thank you would be nice,” you scoff, but without heat. “And yes. Call it a mutual understanding.”

The Guards shuffle off. Halbrand is left in the borders of the court, speaking to you, who’s robed in a dress like a monolith of pure light. Salvation, you look like. And you had been, in a way. He cannot deny that.

But he cannot deny he doesn’t trust any of it either.

(Something about things being too good to be true. He’s learned that lesson before.)

“I still don’t know what you want of me, Eärmaril,” he remarks, and was glad to know the sound of your name finally being uttered by him seems to have an effect on you. “But a part of me gathers that staying in those cells to rot might benefit me more, than to be at risk of being at your disposal outside these stone walls.”

Hurt flashes in your eyes. It’s the first he’d ever seen it.

As if the thought of having someone in thrall to you was— outlandish. And here, perhaps now Sauron will see the malice cut through your façade. That alas, your true colours and intentions will bleed through, as always, like he’s been expecting and predicting all this while.

But then:

“You must have been hurt so, to be this distrusting, Halbrand.”

He seizes.

Your gaze melts into something sickeningly compassionate. Severe, almost, as Estë’s healing touch in his faded dreams.

Sauron doesn’t know what to make of it.

“You— think me afraid,” he manages, terse enough to be a statement more than a question. (Enough, hopefully, to hide the fact you have, indeed, rattled him.)

“No. I think you don’t know what true kindness looks like, even if it’s being handed to you on a silver platter.”

“I’ve done evil,” he says, slow and careful, and accompanies it with an intimidating step into your space; your orbit.

You don’t waver.

If anything, you’ve boldly bared your throat as you crane your neck to level his steely gaze. “It is said only the sea can wash away all that is evil. That it can erode all given time. I believe that’s why you were adrift and washed here.”

“A baptism,” he muses, suddenly remembering Ossë, between the battle-drum in his ears.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Halbrand scoffs. “You think you know me.”

“I know enough,” you say. “I know I’m the only person in this moment who can give you what you want.”

“You alone cannot give me peace.”

“I cannot,” you agree, before cocking your head to the side. “Though, I can lend you a Smith’s hammer and tongs.”

In spite of himself, and against his better judgement—

Mairon lights up.

Footnotes:

Erulaitalë was a ceremony observed on the summit of Meneltarma, the tallest mountain peak of Númenor, in which praise was given to Eru for his works.

71 notes · View notes

just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 2 days ago

Note

Your writing is so good I couldn't stop making them😭 hope you like them

I AM CRYING🤣🤣🤣🤣

Good thing Elves don’t get UTIs or STDs (at least I like to think they don’t) and that he can’t get her pregnant unless he specifically wants to because those two are NOT being safe by human standards at all😅 and the ‘you had no carnal desire one’ good lord... That’s exactly how it felt in my mind😂

10/10 so accurate each and every one of these. You have a real talent my friend😆

#I'm gonna link these to the masterlist #they're just too good #sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #the rings of power #ask

30 notes · View notes

swordgrace · 26 days ago

Text

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x you #lord of the rings #rings of power #lotr x reader #the rings of power #rings of power x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

421 notes · View notes

theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine Sauron (Annatar) being unable to resist your allure as you work on the rings…

Distance. He repeated to himself. Although he did not understand why it was necessary when he chose to ignore the warning and step closer to you.

He had donned a new face with a new name - Annatar - but it did little to fade the pull he felt to you as ‘Halbrand’. As fate would have it, your journey drew you to Eregion to aid Celebrimbor with his crafts.

Or perhaps you were simply drawn to where Sauron would be?

A part of him longed to tell you the truth but he had a larger plan that relied on secrecy. He could not risk you speaking with Galadriel nor did he wish to cause you harm. And so, he chose to keep the knowledge to himself.

He watched as you picked up a glittering gold band forged for one of the dwarf lords. One of seven. Crafted by Celebrimbor, they were perfect. Touched by his hands, there would be malice and a darkness so deep-rooted.

But jewelled by your fingers? They would have enough light to remind him that not all he touches is true evil.

“Have you chosen a stone for this one?” He asked.

You inspected the fine craftsmanship. “Perhaps a sapphire.” You said rather distracted. He gave you a small musing hum and you turned to meet his eyes. “You disagree?”

“I merely think a ruby would complement this particular piece.”

“Do enlightenment me, Lord of Gifts.” You challenged.

He almost laughed at the offence you took. But he merely stepped behind and touched an elbow with one hand, raising it a little higher. His free hand caught your chin, fingers gently lifting your head to tilt upwards to see the gold band twinkle under a ray of sun.

It was intimate and he wrestled with his impulsive urges. To kiss you in this moment would be too easy. But again, he could not. All he could do was savour this moment with you.

“The sunlight catches the band casting it in a glow of power. A ruby would emphasize such a notion beneath the mountain.” He said, lips drawing impossibly close to your ear. He noticed the prickling of your skin and the way your breath hitched.

“Power kissed by sunlight.” You whispered, realising his vision. Head turning to his once more, he saw the way your eyes flickered to his lips for a fleeting second.

It appeared that the pull he felt was mutual, drawing you to him in equal strength. You were drifting closer and closer and-

“Wonderful news! We have just received word from the realm of Men.” Celebrimbor announced as he walked into the forge.

With a sharp breath, Sauron pulled away just as you had done the same. He took note of how you quickly busied yourself in the work once more.

Composing himself, he stood up and smiled at the ring maker who had not noticed the spark rushing for cover.

He should have been more careful.

“This is truly good to hear.” He told Celebrimbor and led the elf away from your workspace. “How soon can we extend an invitation for their visit?”

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Written at 12am because I have no regard for waking early tomorrow for work. When the writing bug bites, you write.

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #rings of power imagine #rings of power x reader #sauron x reader #sauron imagine #halbrand x reader #halbrand imagine #annatar x reader #annatar imagine

498 notes · View notes

dinsbeskar · 15 days ago

Text

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #the rings of power #my fic #i know the lore fairly well but tbh I've messed about with it bc it's my fic and i do what i want 😂#so there was no sex but i got into the hades/persephone vibes of him just doing it and marrying her the night of revealing himself #so now there's sex lmfao #its like playing with barbies and making them kiss 😅😂#it's a longer part than planned i kept adding to it smh #anyway enjoy!!

226 notes · View notes

wordbunch · 2 months ago

Text

oh, how unreasonable [Halbrand]

LONG A/N: I hope yall have lots of fun and feels while reading this, and I am living for any comments and impressions ♡ if it is slight ooc, I really don't care. If you don't consider Halbrand a warning in itself, then the only warning I have is occasionally suggestive conversation.

❗️this is essentialy Halbrand x my OC Díorien (she), who is a half-elf with the other half of her roots unknown, but there are no physical descriptions - feel free to consider it a reader insert. The only extra bit of knowledge is that she can use fire magic (hence multiple fire references), she is more-less one of the elves but not fully, and is very much on the fence about who to side with. A girl is struggling

I wholeheartedly recommend these 2 songs for the mood ♡

“So it is true.”

“What is?”

“That evil never sleeps?” Díorien’s face appeared in warm candlelight amid the dark room. Her eyes scanned the figure in front of her with equal parts disdain and intrigue.

“Ever so witty, my queen,” Halbrand cackled, positioned in front of the door of Díorien’s private chambers. “How could I sleep, knowing you are here, and not by my side in a realm of our own creation?”

Cautiously he began to approach her bed, thick darkness everywhere except for the cool glow of the moon through the large window above her headboard, and the candle in her hand she had lit seconds ago. Fitting.

“What brings you here?” she inquired dryly, pretending with all her might that his presence in the dead of night wasn’t making her shiver from head to toe. Having just awoken abruptly, she needed a few moments to wrap her head around the situation and realize she was dressed only in a delicate, sheer nightgown with sheets bunched up around her waist and legs. Swallowing thickly, Díorien decided to just pretend she was dressed properly - however, she was convinced Halbrand could see right through her anyway. Somehow he was always able to.

“What brings me here is…” he began, voice heavy with something inexplicable, “the fact that the most enchanting, strong, passionate woman in the world, does not want to partake in that world with me.”

“But how could I, Halbrand?” She defended herself, not fully convinced she stood behind her own words. The way his eyes pored over her vulnerable form in the candlelight pulled the very ground from beneath her feet. “Y-you want me to-”

“I want you to rule with me, I want you to be my other half, I want you to come with me somewhere you will be not cast aside, but worshipped.” All decorum aside, Halbrand sat on the edge of her bed, and he could see her swallow thickly. If he said that heat wasn’t overcoming his whole body in her presence, that would be a very transparent lie, since that usually was the effect that she had on him. And he knew that she knew about it very well. “They do not understand you. They do not drive you to grow greater, to aim for more - they do not see you the way that I see you, Díor.” He was sliding one hand slowly over the mattress towards Díorien’s hand which was tightly clutching the silky sheets. “I know how that feels, my starlight, because that is how they are to me as well. But not you. Not you. You know my mind like you have walked the very steps inside of it. And I - I see the greatness that burns within you, the flame that terrifies everyone else, except someone who has walked through fire before.” His voice was quiet and gruff, but with an edge of persistence.

“Halbrand-” she whispered, furrowed eyebrows reflecting her inner turmoil.

“When you say my name like that, I am willing to throw the rest of the world away and just live in you instead.” He interrupted her eagerly, but she cleared her throat, determined to continue.

but you’ve come to offer, i’m here to receive / your face is my gospel, your body my creed / bring me to your altar, drop me to my knees / the more i worship, the more i believe

“You are asking me to betray my own kin-”

“And you would betray your own heart.”

His calloused hand found his way to her closed fist and wrapped around it. Had the windows not been open and graciously letting in a light breeze, Díorien would have combusted then and there. In spite of that, she allowed him to touch her.

“Do I not make you feel better than any of them, my queen? Do I not make you feel euphoric, boundless? I find it hard to believe you have already forgotten how we relished in each other, away from any judgemental glare,” he pressed with a deceitful pout. His other hand found its way to her bare shoulder, his touch almost scathing in the crackling air.

“Even when I try to bury those memories, they come back all the stronger, and I tremble every time I feel the ghost of your lips on my body” she admitted earnestly, her eyes bearing a striking vulnerability. “I feel you even when I least wish to do so, but I do not believe you and your proposals and schemes.”

it’s not fair, oh, it’s not fair how much i love you / it’s not fair ‘cause you make me ache, you bastard

Halbrand sighed away a self-satisfied smile, composing himself before speaking up once again. “You would not be betraying any of them - I need you to establish a new order with me, I need you to save your beloved world with me. You would not be betraying anyone, quite the contrary, you would be their savior, and nobody would have any right to pass you any judgment.”

There were a few steady beats of silence, the only moving thing the meek, flickering flame of a single candle on the windowsill, and the light that it cast on all around it.

“Do you speak of betrayal because you were conditioned to do so, or because you feel that way truly? You speak of your kin, but are they, really? What makes you anymore closely bound to any of them, than it does to me? Had you been so important to each other, you wouldn’t have been treated like some lesser-”

Díorien interrupted his barrage of questions before his voice could adopt an even more venomous tone than it just had.

“And what do you know of true feelings, of truth in any capacity?” She chuckled dryly, hoping to have finally caught him off guard. In that moment, the only perfectly true thing about her was the fact that she was holding onto her morality by a thread, weakening by the second. He knew too well exactly where to hit her, and how, and she was aware that she had entered a battle inevitably to be lost.

“The way I feel with your hands on me is the only measure of truth I need. You are the very flame of my heart.”

Whether her senses and sanity were failing, or was there something so genuine and frail in the way he delivered his confession, there was no way to tell. Their eyes met as an abundance of feelings grazed his facial expression.

and if you asked me to, if you asked me, i would lose it all / like petals in a storm / ‘cause darling, i was born to press my head between your shoulder blades, at night when light is fading

The thread weakened to become next to nothing. Against her better judgment, Díorien reached out a warm hand to remove a stray curl that had fallen over Halbrand’s eyes. He himself was growing uncertain of what exactly he was holding onto. Perhaps it was just her existence, just her closeness, her overt ferocity and her inescapable radiance. He only knew he wanted more of it, all of it, until the end of all the ages of the world.

“But if your plan for a newly established perfect harmony fails, what then, Halbrand?” Díorien’s tone was stiff yet hushed, but it was all false pretenses; those troubled eyes, unruly hair and towering height had broken through her guard one too many times already. She sat there, defeated, all but vibrating with things left unsaid, and the expectations of things yet to be heard.

“We would still have one another,” he retorted with a pinch of desperation in his voice, and you would still have thousands… millions, under your merciful hand.” He touched her jawline, brushing over her lower lip with his thumb. “And me, merely a breath away from your lips.” Halbrand’s eyebrow twitched upwards ever so slightly; she would have missed it had she not been so familiar with almost all of his crevices and corners. “You would have tried saving the elves, saving Middle-earth, if that is necessary to still your conscience. But failure of my mission or not - in the end you still come out a winner. We do.” His hand found her trembling fingers, firmly bringing them to his lips, never ceasing to hold her gaze.

“When you look at me like that,” she whispered, subconsciously leaning into his touch and toward his face, “I find myself failing to draw a single breath,” she finished shakily, mentally cursing herself for falling under his influence time and time again. Although she had aimed to hold her ground, she was walking a thin line between the right choice and the reckless one. But, oh, the reckless one had a smile which made her forget her own name, and the rasp in his voice drowned out even the sweetest elven melodies. She wasn’t walking a line - she was falling over it right into the strong arms of her ravishing, twisted enemy (or at least whom she was raised to believe was one).

Halbrand offered her a devilish, partially relieved, grin as he pulled her onto his lap in one swift motion, twisted sheets and all; she drew in a sharp breath weaving both of her hands into his unruly hair. Forehead against forehead, they were now painfully aware of both of their strained breathing and the thrill that was palpable in the, until very recently still, air. Díorien eagerly renounced the last bits of her poise as soon as his face was buried in her tender neck, his beard deliciously scratching her skin. However, as soon as she let out a sweet breath of pleasure, Halbrand moved away to look into her face again.

“Is that a yes, my queen?” he whispered, looking up at her through his lashes, his hands firmly dug into her hips.

“It is anything you want it to be, my king,” her answer was hurried, desperate, starving, merely a millisecond before she collided her lips with his.

It didn’t take long before Halbrand maneuvered them so that he was hovering over the wide-eyed girl with fire inside her body and heart.

“I think it is time I make you forget all those wretched little excuses you tried giving me, darling,” he murmured into her skin before hastily blowing out the candle.

oh, how, oh how unreasonable / how unreasonably in love i am with everything you do / i’ll spend my days so close to you / ‘cause if i’m stood here, then i’m stood here / and i’ll stand here / i’ll stand here with you.

♡♡♡

shoutout to my most beloved 💖💖💖 @queenmeriadoc @lady-of-imladris

and @entishramblings i know you're not a ROP girl, but perhaps the writing style will be right up your alley 🥰

#from my pocketses #the rings of power #trop #trop fanfiction #rop fanfiction #rings of power #rings of power fanfiction #halbrand #halbrand x reader #halbrand x oc #annatar #trop x reader #rop x reader #Spotify

227 notes · View notes

kasagia · 18 days ago

Text

Flesh and blood

Pairing: Halbrand x fem!elf! reader Summary: Centuries of running away, fighting with what is right and what you should do, have left their mark on you. In time, you begin to realise that the war between good and evil, light and darkness, will never end. And you are tired of all of it. Especially since HE never leaves you alone. Not even for a short moment. Not even when you're about to marry someone else. A bit of a sequel to Skin and Bones, but can be read on its own! It took me longer than I thought, but I kind of like the way it went. I hope you will like it! 🤭🥰 Inspired by: David Kushner - "Flesh x Blood" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"I don't remember the last time you prayed to the Valar." Galadriel sneaks up to you silently. You close your eyes and breathe in the sweet air of Lothlórien.

You were looking for a quiet place where you could calm down and clear your mind of everything that had been bothering you in recent days. And quite a bit had piled up. And not just because it was your "wedding week.".

"That was… ages ago." You reply thoughtfully and stroke the ring hanging around your neck with your fingertip. A ring forged by Halbrand.

"He won't come here. I will make sure of it. He's too afraid of failure. We have many more allies now. You can be safe for yourself and your fiancé." Galadriel assures you with burning fervour and takes your hand that you hold on your lap. You smile, glad that something of her fire still remains—despite the centuries you have fought for yourselves and your people.

"It's not me I'm worried about. Nor Thranduil. You know… you know how Sauron is. He'll do exactly what we least expect. And I can't let him surprise me again." You say, standing up and taking away your hand from her grip. You walk closer to the willow with white leaves and rest your hand on its trunk.

You try desperately to cling with your soul to the power that lies dormant in it—the light that is both a part of you and Garadiel. But as usual, you don't feel the pleasant tingling in your body. You feel the power flowing through you, but... it's not as addictive as the darkness that he tried to pour into you so many times.

The silence after your words is oppressive, to say the least.

"Do you still have these dreams?"Galadriel's soft whisper makes you shiver a little. You wonder if she can feel it in you—the way the light the Valar gave you beats against the darkness that sang to you the most tempting ballads and promises.

"Less often. I guess he's too busy to bother me. Or maybe he's already bored with me? That would be convenient turn of events." You reply and finally turn to fully face her. A small smile appears on your face, but by the way she narrows her eyes at you, you can tell she's seen through at least some of your lies.

"But do you want it? For him to... leave you at peace?"

"There is no peace for me, Galadriel. Neither for you. We both know that." You try to avoid responding to her question and are about to walk away from her, but in the distance you see the silhouette of a very familiar prince of Mirkwood. “Forgive me.” You say, using that perfect excuse, and head towards your fiancé.

Guilt hits you every time you see a smile on Thranduil's face. Not just any polite, mocking, or trained smile that you get used to seeing. He seemed to have his special one—the one reserved just for your eyes to see.

You don't know exactly how you've charmed the Elven Prince, but you didn't go into too much detail. This alliance would be good for the elves. It would unite you in the fight against the one who held the torn remains of your heart in his claws.

Although... you couldn't say you didn't hope that the passionate feelings the platinum-haired prince had for you would be returned from your side someday. Maybe in time you'd learn to love him as he loved you.

"My lady." He greets you and reaches for your hand. He places a kiss on the top of it with full reverence, not to tease you as HE used to do.

"Elf." Halbrand's raspy voice rings out behind you as you and Galadriel discuss something. You're celebrating a battle won against your enemies, the night dark, the area lit only by the light from the campfires and torches. You blush as you meet the intense gaze of his stormy eyes, and you blame the alcohol you've just consumed for that, not the effect this special mortal has on you. "May I?"

Too focused on his muscular, exposed shoulders, you almost don't notice him nod toward the elves dancing around the fire. Before you can respond, Galadriel takes the wooden tankard from your hand and practically shoves it into Halbrand's arms. She would do anything to bribe him into ruling the Southlands and becoming her ally now. She would even go so far as to push you into his bed if it would change his mind.

You hold your breath, your heart beating a little faster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. Your skin tingles as his lips caress you, his stubble teasing, just like the way his blue eyes scrutinise your reaction.

He pulls away, giving you a mischievous, mysterious smile and holding you to his chest, joining the other couples around the fire and spinning around in his arms like nothing else in the world matters. Ironically, a mortal makes you feel more eternal than any elf, dwarf, or man you’ve ever met.

You shake your head at the memory, and when Thranduil's eyes find your face again, you give him one of your smiles. One that he unfortunately can't recognise as a mask. One that Halbrand would see through in a blink of an eye.

"You were not at the war council today." He notices and nods toward the gardens. You begin to walk at a leisurely pace as you consider how to respond to his observation.

"I did not feel too… focused to participate in it today. I hope you didn't miss me too much?" You tease him, hoping he'll ignore the slight note of concern in your voice.

You wanted your complicated realtion with... Sauron to remain a secret from him. He didn't need to know about things that were long in the past… or your fears that the past wasn't as far away as you'd like it to be.

"I actually did." His comment catches you off guard a little. You stop when he reaches into your hair and tucks a sundrop lily behind your ear. It's a sweet gesture. Really. And you feel warmer and nicer inside… but your heart doesn't flutter in your chest like it would if HE did it. "I heard these are your favorites?"

You nod with a smile, not daring to tell him that your favorites are the red-white Carnations. And not because Halbrand gave them to you the other century...

"They are." You whisper hoarsely, a smile plastered on your face and you look away at the flowers growing around you.

He doesn't let you look away for long though. He gently takes your chin in both his fingers and tilts your head, forcing you to look at him.

There was a delicacy, a grace in everything Thranduil did. He was the epitome of an ideal elf, in whom it was easy to see the roots of a great family. And you would have fallen for him, indeed, had you not tasted the seawater of darkness on your chapped lips all those centuries ago.

"What's on your mind?" He whispers, staring at you intently, searching for an answer to your strange behavior.

There are a lot of things stuck in your mind… and none of them should be there.

Because how could you tell him that your mind wasn't occupied by him—just as it should be—but... by Halbrand? How can you tell him that you spend countless nights wondering about what could've been, turning the silver betrothal ring that Thranduil gave you on your finger and fantasising that its metal was black, made of the same as Sauron's crown?

"Many things. Wedding. War. Orcs... Sauron." You confess partly the truth, keeping your gaze fixed not on his eyes and face but on the garden behind him. "I… I'm worried about what's going to happen." You admit mysteriously, without betraying, that you are truly afraid of being bound to him.

You are too scared to admit that the dark corners of your heart are dying with longing for the one you should never have desired. That part of you wishes that your groom carried far less light within him.

"I promise you, he won't ever touch you again. I will protect you. With my kingdom, army and life." All you can give him in return for such a racy declaration is a faint smile that you hope actually looks more convincing than it feels.

"I know. But I hope you will never have to, Thranduil." You add, completely honestly, for the first time, and on instinct you lean in and snuggle up to the elf.

He seems at least surprised that you seek comfort from him, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and places a hand on your head, gently running his hand through your hair as he lets you hide in his embrace for a moment.

And it feels good. Really.

But not as good as hugs from HIM.

"Galadriel said that I would find you here." Halbrand's voice interrupts your prayer to the Valar. You turn on the bench and look at the mortal. He slowly walks over to you and sits down next to you, staring at the holy oak before you. "Blaming yourself for their deaths won't get you anywhere. They're soldiers. They take into account the possibility of being killed when they go to war."

"Every life is worth mourning, Halbrand." He snorts at that, as if he doesn't believe the sincerity of your words. He turns his gaze to you, but you don't want to look back at him. You're afraid he'll see the tears in your eyes.

"Possible. But praying to the Valar will not bring them back to life." You jump up from the bench as if burned, to which he gives you a confused look.

"What are you trying to do? What do you want to tell me?! That stupid, eternal elf shouldn't shed tears over a life taken for no reason? That I shouldn't sit in a corner and cry like a child while people die around me? I know it! I know it perfectly well, mortal!" Your voice breaks slightly and you can no longer stop yourself from crying silently.

He freezes. For the first time, he sees your outburst. You're usually a composed oasis of composure, but now... after you saw him at the edge of death... Halbrand starts to connect the dots. He walks over to you and firmly, quickly closes you in his arms. You try to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

He actually doesn't want to let you go.

He had many names; he had taken many forms, but in none of them did he feel... peace. Holding you in his arms while you were crying into his chest, seeking comfort from him, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinching to him tight as if for dear life... he felt peace. He felt some strange kind of relief caused by the fact that you cared about him much enough to mourn his potential death.

You cried into his chest because you were afraid he would die, that he would leave. Sauron tries to remember the last time someone cared so much for him. He can't remember. Or he doesn't want to remember anything but this.

And he took selfish pleasure in the knowledge that his leaving would have devastated you.

You let yourself cry into him, pour out all the emotions that have been weighing on you since you saw him bleeding on the healers' bed, and you shiver in his arms as a cool gust of wind somehow hits your skin and breaks through the safe cage of his warm embrace.

"No Valar has ever answered my prayers. None has ever looked after me like you are... thank you, Y/N." He whispers into your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead.

He feels a strange pang in his heart as his lips touch the surface of your silky skin. You still tremble in his grip, but he holds you impossibly tight, refusing to let any force separate you. It's a strange feeling. One he's not used to. One that seems addictive - much like your sweet scent, which he hopes will linger on him so he can appreciate it longer.

This moment between you is... intimate. Not just because he holds you close to his chest, whispers sweet things into your ear, and plants kisses that colour your cheeks the same scarlet as your dress. It's because he uses your name for the first time. And it's to comfort you. A mortal. A blacksmith. A simple man... for whom you've fallen so quickly it's pathetic.

When you finally stop crying and he carefully wipes away every tear that's left on your cheeks with his thumbs, you do the boldest, stupidest thing in your entire, long life. You stand up on your tiptoes and connect his lips with yours.

He is... surprised by your unexpected act. At first he is unable to react to the way your lips move gently against his. You kiss him with a tenderness he has not felt for at least several centuries. And the Valar above, how sweet your lips were.

The tempting vision of the future he could have with you passes through his mind, enticing him more than any vision of power that Morgoth putted in his mind.

You take away his breath and any possibility of movement with each gentle biting of his lip. His heart beats uncontrollably quickly as he revels in your closeness and your ethereal scent, which wraps him better than any blanket could. He clings to your sofftness like a centuries-old thirst for touch-broken man that Morgoth had made him.

You pull away from him when he remains still for too long, fearing you've crossed a line. Allowing you to believe in it is the only crime he can’t commit.

His plans to slowly seduce you and use you to get on Galadriel's better side fly out the window as he desperately reaches for you. His needing of you is greater than anything he has felt since he took this new form.

And Valar, curse him if, after he has tasted you, he does not get all of you to himself.

He tangles a hand in your hair and, making sure his entire hand is securely around the back of your head, pushes you against the column in the courtyard with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.

He’s quick to seize the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your slightly parted lips as he greedily savours every last bit of you, devouring you like a starving man as his other hand desperately grabs at your waist, taking a fistful of the material of your dress.

He wants to be as close to you as possible, any logical thought in his mind giving in to the force of his desire as he presses his entire body against you, wondering only where and how to take you, which places are your sweet spots, and what to taste first to put out the fire you've ignited inside him—a desire so great he's become its obedient slave in less than a blink of an eye.

And for a moment, he truly feels like a weak mortal. As you work just as quickly to unbutton his shirt, he feels like a regular human being. And he despises that feeling as much as he desires more.

"He is here." At Galadriel's words, you drop the white gown you were taking from the wardrobe.

Your maids rush to you, trying to save the silk dress from getting wrinkled, but you don't care. All you can think about is him. Sauron. Halbrand... Annatar. He was here.

"What?" You stare at her in shock as she nods her head for the rest to leave your chambers. The silence in the room is heavy, broken only by the hurried footsteps of the elves leaving, who have managed to do your wedding hair and light makeup.

"We... wanted to keep you away from it—Erlond, me, and Thranduil. We thought it would be the best for you. Sauron... he entered the city gates a week ago and... surrendered. Sort of. He let us lock him in his cell. He has no crown, no rings. He said he wanted to make an alliance with us. Peace. Of course we don't believe him. We're waiting for our allies to provide us with... the right means to get rid of his physical form for good. Before that... we'd like to get as much out of him as possible. Or rather, find out what his real plan is. But he's been silent for weeks. He wants to talk to you. Only you."

"You kept it in hidden? From me? Together with my future husband?" You ask coldly, inside seething with rage at their betrayal. How could they pretend nothing was happening for a week? That the greatest evil in Middle-earth hadn't come to your gates and wasn't lurking in the dungeons, waiting for the most likely moment to strike?

"Y.N, I… I know how you feel…"

"No. You don't know." You answer her firmly, piercing her with an icy gaze that makes her flinch. "Am I your enemy now? A less worthy ally who fell in love with an enemy? Because that's what he is to me, Galadriel. How dare you... how dare you doubt me after I've chosen you every time? After I had chosen Middle-earth and elves every single time! Each of us faces darkness, Galadriel. Even you are not made entirely of light. So I'm asking you, what right do you have to exclude me from your plans?!"

You explode in rage at her and walk over to her. You breathe quickly, air leaving your flared nostrils, and the urge to pin her to the wall with a dagger at her neck is overwhelming.

"Everything I do, I do for the good of Middle-earth."

"You're not the only one! What do you think is the reason for my marriage to Thranduil?! The good of Middle-earth, the strengthening of the alliance—that's all I've done for these cursed centuries at your side! But I thought I was your true ally and supporter. Thank you for reminding me that I fall short of your light and greatness, my lady."

Before she can say anything, you're already running out of the room. You ignore the elves milling around, who were listening to your conversation, and head to one place. The dungeons.

You can't ignore the pang in your heart as you consider your conversation with Galadriel. She didn't trust you. They didn't trust you. After all the years at their side, the sacrifices, the battle against the darkness within you, they thought of you as a lesser elf that any time can be consumed by the darkness. You were not a worthy guardian of Middle-earth in their eyes. And you probably never will be.

You blink faster, fighting back the tears that want to spontaneously come to your eyes, and practically run down the stairs. You don't ask the guards where he is. You can feel him clearly, the ring that still hangs safely on your necklace pulling you toward him, feeling him as soon as you set foot on the same floor he is on.

You prepare yourself to not show any emotion on your face. You take a few deep breaths and climb the last few stairs. A rather comical sight greets you. Six men stand by the bars, as if the chains and shackles around the neck, wrists, and ankles of the man in front of you were not enough to assure him that he would not escape. As if they could stop him if he actually wanted to escape.

You watch his new form closely as he drinks in your sight with an equally intense gaze, as if assessing all the changes in you since your last meeting. He is no longer Annatar. He doesn't have blond hair, but he is a near-perfect replica of Halbrand. A damn bastard knew too well which one of his forms you had weakness for.

"Leave me and the prisoner alone." You order the soldiers. They look at each other uncertainly. But you are in no mood to deal with their blatant refusal to immediately obey your words. “It was an order, not a request.”

You see a small, mocking smile spread across his face as he watches the soldiers hesitantly leave you alone. The door closes behind them with a bang, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Centuries. That's how long it took for the two of you to be in the same room in flesh and blood.

It shouldn't feel this right.

"Personally, I think I made you a better ring." He begins, casting a significant glance at the Thranduil's ring that adorned your finger. For a moment, you felt as if the metal would melt under his contemptuous gaze.

"Personally, I believe that it is not the ring that is important but the one who gives it." You comment and take a step towards the bars. He can't move, thankfully, so there still is a decent distance between you two.

He's trapped in the middle of the room, chained to the floor with heavy chains. And though he looks defenseless... but deep down you know he's been through worse. No prison could hold him for long.

"Your little elf prince... did he finally tell you that I was locked here? Or was he too afraid I'd steal you from the altar? By the way, I didn't know you had a thing for blondes? Maybe Annatar wasn't as disgusting to you as you claimed."

"Oh Annatar was a self-absorbed, egotistical psychopath with unrealistic ambitions. A pretty close and faithful form of you. Probably the closest yet, Sauron." He frowns at the contemptuous, almost disgusted way you say his name. He clears his throat and shakes his head, chuckling darkly.

His mockery sends waves of anger through you as well as a warm, all-too-familiar feeling in your chest. His laughter was both poison and wine to you. How much would you give to be able to get lost in it with impunity...

"Now now. Why call me by a name you despise? We both know which one you like more... especially in the darkness of your chambers." You tremble slightly, but you don't let him know that the constant visions and dreams were affecting you in any way.

If you've learnt anything about him, it's that he doesn't like it when you don't react to his actions. And right now, you really want to piss him off; see him losing his composed and mocking demeanour, as if he were still playing the cards in your game, as if he were 15 steps ahead of you.

"Why are you here, Halbrand? Perhaps you prefer Annatar? The Dark Lord? It's hard to keep up with the nicknames you've been giving yourself lately, Lord of orcs and Mordor." You ask calmly, playing with the ring on your finger—a habit you had developed far before your engagement and, as you've just noticed, something that annoyed him when it wasn't his ring that you were showing off like that.

"Oh, well, someone had to carry a pillow with wedding rings at your…"

"You're wasting my time." You interrupt him coldly, staring at him intently. “Maybe I should just let Galadriel play with you while I focus on my husband?” You ask, rasing defiantly an eyebrow at him as you wonder if he will continue his stupid game or once in his life he will open his cards to you.

"Good thing we have eternity, right?" You sigh and roll your eyes at him. That was exactly how you remembered him.

What else could you expect from him? If he hadn't shown you the illusion, he would have entangled you in his dark web of lies. It didn't matter if he came to you in visions or stood before you in flesh and blood—he wasn't the one you fell in love with; he was much more. You should have realised after all those centuries that whatever was between you two wasn't love, affection, or anything decent.

He desired your power. Not you. Maybe you should finally take a hint.

Maybe he had shown you the darkness for too long to feel tempted by it any longer. Maybe this light was finally what you longed for. Or maybe you got bored of his little, sick games and manipulations. Maybe you craved for something real—something he obviously would never give you.

You turn your back on him and are about to leave when he suddenly calls your name. Not the pet names he liked to call you. Your name. Your real name. And something about the way it rolled over his tongue wouldn't let you just walk away from him.

Even though you should have done it ages ago. Even though the whispers of darkness had been tempting you for too long, and even though you knew perfectly well that it would be better for you to leave this room as soon as possible, you didn't.

You stop, but you don't spare him a glance again. You wait for what he has to say, not really knowing what you want to achieve with him. Because you are perfectly well aware that Galadriel has already informed Erlond and Thranduil about your sudden outburst and that they are most likely eavesdropping on the two of you now. HE probably knew that too. Just as you all knew that he wouldn't appear here without a serious reason.

"Not in a joking mood, I see. You'd be a lot happier as my bride, by the way. But if you insist, I think I can tell you this great secret, but it must remain just between us two, my sacred light." He pauses, clearly waiting for you to look at him again. You sigh and reluctantly turn to face him. The intensity of his sea-green gaze burns worse than any flame, making you feel like you're the one being interrogated and shackled by him. "Actually... I'm here to replace your groom if he decides to run away from the altar. I wouldn't want the beautiful sight of you in your wedding dress to go to waste."

"Who said he would leave me? Thranduil loves me." You speak with complete certainty of the prince of Mirkwood's feelings for you. You wish you had as much confidence in yourself as you do in him.

"Not a big achievement. He's not the only one. He's not the only one who put a ring on your finger, is he? But tell me... what seems more... intimate? Wearing one on your finger or on a chain around your neck, close to your heart?"

After his words, the ring on your chest - the very one he gave you - becomes heavy, heavy under the awareness that his words carry a bit of truth... Why would you still keep his ring close to you if you already had one?

"You tell me. It seems that of the two of us, you know the most about the chains. Especially the dark ones."

"I may be chained to the darkness. But you, my stubborn and beautiful elf, are chained to the light. Tell me, Y/N, does the Valar answer your prayers and your pleas after you have cried out to me in the darkness of so many nights? Can you whisper their names in your holly gardens, knowing it is mine you wish to scream out loud for all of Middle-earth to hear?"

Only when blood is running in a stream from your hand do you realise that you've gone to the bars and wrapped your hand around them, squeezing tightly so you hurt yourself. He's drawn you to him like a spider to its prey, wrapping you in the web of his words, making you lose your guard enough to get close to the bars. And that was your mistake.

In an instant, he’s in front of you. You gasp in shock, unable to process when he’s freed himself from his shackles or when he’s wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled it through the bars. All you can do is hold your breath and watch as he licks your wound, moaning as your crimson blood spreads across his taste buds, tasting you like you’re the most exquisite of drinks.

"We belong together, my lady." He says this nickname mockingly as he leans down to press his lips to your hand. "No matter how far or fast you want to run, or who you want to run with. I will always find you. I will always be near. You will be able to feel my breath on your neck in every dark night. You will always be mine, Y/N."

You gasp as his lips move up your hand. He’s so close, your noses brushing through the bars as he forces you closer to him, to feel you the way he wants.

You gasp as he slides his hand along the sharp edge of the bars and mixes your blood with his, pressing your hands together tightly. You watch as the black, thick liquid runs down his wrist, and an unwanted little voice in the back of your head convinces you to lean down and taste his blood with the tip of your tongue. You stand there, staring at him as if spellbound, unable to move as he presses kisses to your joined hands, spreading your blood across your skin.

Suddenly, you are being dragged backwards by two strong pairs of arms. And although Halbrand... Sauron tries to hold you by force, almost crushing your wrist, Erlond and Thranduil pull you away from him.

"That's a very rude way to interrupt someone's conversation." He comments unimpressed, running his finger over the bars where your blood still is. He sucks his thumb, humming at another metallic taste, irritating your not-yet-husband.

"You're lucky there's no suitable weapon here yet to end your miserable life, you disgusting, cursed Maiar. I'd like to see you try to get close to her, no longer having any physical form."

"I would still have a better chance of getting a taste of her wonderful nectar and light, little prince. Actually, I've already done it. What about you?"

You knew perfectly well what game he was playing and how much he wanted to spore the elf so that he would slip and stab him with his sword, thus not killing him fully but allowing him to take another form. But Thranduil seemed too agitated to leave him without a word, and Erlond was too interested in getting more information out of Sauron to stop his friend.

"I can connect with her in a more meaningful way. First of all, I have enough light in myself to bind our souls to each other." Sauron frowns in displeasure, never taking his contemptuous gaze off your fiancé.

"You may not know this, Elven Prince, but darkness is as good a connection as any, and a much stronger one I dare to say. Besides... you cannot bond with one who is already taken."

This is clearly too much for Thranduil to bear. The Prince of Mirkwood is in front of Sauron in a split second, his blade at his neck. A thin line of black blood runs down to his collarbones as he, unfazed, still smirking, stares down at your fiancé.

"Thranduil leave him." You butt in and place a hand on the elf's shoulder. He looks at you sideways, his jaw clenched and his hand trembling slightly against Mairon's neck as he is still tempted to take his life. You gently grab his wrist and pull his hand away from Sauron, ignoring the searing look he gives you as you touch another man before him. You gently cup the elf's cheek and force him to look at you. "He is not worth it. Let us go, he will not tell us anything useful, he will only confuse our minds. This is just another of his numerous games."

"You know perfectly well that not all of this was a lie, Y/N. And if anything… I'm not the only one here who resorts to it, am I, my beloved nemesis?" You try to ignore the look Sauron gives you from behind Thranduil's shoulder.

You lean down and gently connect your lips with the elf's. He seems to melt into your kiss, one of your rare acts of tenderness. And you can't quite give yourself over to the feeling of his lips against yours enough to not hear the soft growl of the man behind you.

"Let's take this wedding. We won't achieve anything here anyway." You say, moving away from him and trying your hardest to ignore the pain in your chest and the cries for the Dark Lord that Erlond and Galadriel were taking care of.

But you knew well that his imprisonment wouldn't last long. He'd get out. The only question was when... and what was the real reason of his comming here.

The ceremony is beautiful. Really. Even though you may not be the most enthusiastic bride, you are happy that your people have something to celebrate and have a moment of respite from the danger that is now closer than ever. With Sauron in the dungeon and an army of orcs on the loose, anything could happen. And you didn't want to even imagine the many possible scenarios.

"A coin for your thoughts?" Thranduil quickly joins your side, handing you one of the goblets in his hand.

You smile softly at him and take a sip of the drink, wincing slightly at the taste. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you watch the dancing elves.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined this connection between you two to look like. Elven couples who chose to bind their souls together through marriage spoke of a great connection of souls and minds, but you barely felt this link between him and you.

For a moment you thought you had said your vows wrong, but Thranduil didn't seem to act like anything was wrong. So you too pretended that everything was completely fine. Just as always.

"Honestly, this isn't how I imagined our wedding would be." You chuckle softly, sipping the drink he gave you.

"Well, that wasn't what I had in mind either, my dear wife. But it doesn't make it any less joyful. You're mine. Finally." He whispers and presses a kiss on your temple. A shiver runs through you as he gently slides a ring onto your finger. The engagement ring that somehow disappeared from your finger. You frown and give him a questioning look. "Sauron must have stolen it from you somehow. I'm just returning it to its rightful place—my queen's finger." He replies and reverently places a kiss on the back of your hand.

You frown and look at the metal band on your finger. It was… oddly heavier. Like more massive. Strange, since it was the exactly same ring as few hours ago.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" He asks sweetly, taking the empty chalice from you.

You absentmindedly play with the necklace around your neck, freezing when you realize you don't have the familiar weight of Sauron's ring hanging around your neck.

"Shall we dance? For the first time as husband and wife?" Before you can answer, he already has you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor. You surrender completely to his guidance, feeling your head hum slightly.

All you can look at is him. Your vision can't focus on the couples dancing around you or anything else except him. And suddenly, you see it. A small crack in your fucking vision.

You can't believe how you could be so stupid and naive.

"I... Sauron" You mumble, feeling slightly disoriented as the poison he gave you is starting to work. Suddenly, you are overcome with immense fatigue, and all you can do is lean against him as you wander into blissful nothingness.

"My beautiful light. Only mine. My wife." He whispers in your ear, confirming your too-late suspicions, and easily scoops you up into his arms.

You dream a dream without dreams. Very strange occurrence since for centuries you were haunted by him in any moment of peace.

It must have bordered on obsession, since the first thought you had after waking up was always him. He made you crazy without even trying, without even being close to you in flesh and blood.

And you're genuinely afraid of the lengths he'll go to once he finally has you within his reach.

"I know you are not sleeping, my dear wife. Your breathing quickened about 10 minutes ago."

You don't know how you could have been so stupid and naive. How you could not have noticed the obvious difference in Thranduil's demeanor. Just like you have no idea how he did it, how he managed to plan this entire show and execute exactly what he wanted. Just as always.

"Eventually you'll have to open your eyes. Don't you want to see our kingdom, my love?"

"Don't call me that, you disgusting plague." You growl, finally opening your eyes. You're in a bedroom, pitch black. You're lying on the most velvety silk sheets, but it's not them or the decor of the room that catches your eye.

He sits just a few feet from your bed. He's wearing black armour made of sharp metal plates. There's a streak of red blood on the side of his face. You shiver, wondering what he had to do to get that blood there.

"Now now. Is this the way to greet your newly wedded husband?" He asks mockingly as he slowly approaches you.

You sit on the bed and rest your back against the headboard, trying to move away from it as far as the handcuffs attached to your ankles will allow.

"I didn't marry you. I was promising myself to Thranduil." You say stubbornly as he slowly sits down on the edge of your bed.

You glare at him sternly as he lazily reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. The ring on his finger—the very one you thought you were putting on Thranduil's finger—pricks your skin unpleasantly, mockingly reminding you of your great mistake.

"But that wasn't really him standing before you, was it? Your elven prince's… his… appearance is currently far from what you remember. You could always be mistaken, my love."

His voice is so sweet that it is nauseating. He drops his hand and suddenly stands up from the bed. He goes to the closet and starts to take off his armour, completely oblivious to the fact that you're in the same room as him. How you wish you had access to a small knife right now...

"What did you do to him?" You ask, your voice shaking as a thousand possibilities race through your mind. You can't believe how all of you fell for the idea that there was some way you could make him defenceless and block his powers. Millennia on his back, and he still played you however he wanted.

You shiver as he suddenly stands before you again. He gently cups your cheek in his hand and stares at you as if you were another addition to his collection of prized possessions he’s torn from the throats of his enemies. The pearl in his dark crown of scorched lands.

"He wanted to take you from me. You know very well what I do with thieves, my precious light of life. I burn them." He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. His stubble stings unpleasantly, your heart pounding at his closeness, but still all you can do is sit there in shock, wondering how he managed to gain control over you. And how best to play your cards to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else.

"I wasn't yours. Not for anyone to steal me from you."

"Your mistake, for which his pretty face paid. Do you know how much time I spent convincing my army not to feed on him once they smelled the delicious scent of a burnt elf?" He asks, unfazed, continuing to press his lips against your skin. His hand tangles in your hair and wraps it around his.

He tilts your head back and buries his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You hold your breath, biting your lower lip until it bleeds.

A tear slips down your cheek, but he ignores it, ignores your quick breaths and broken sobs as you mourn the one man who truly wanted to save you from falling into the darkness. From falling into the arms of the Lord of the Rings.

"You are a monster." You whisper, unable to hold your voice back from a broken sob. His hand works on the fastenings of your nightgown, oblivious to the fact that you are currently reliving the suffering and death he brought to the land of Galadriel and your would-be husband.

"I am your husband. That's all that matters now."

He leans down and captures your lips. You can only moan as the force of his kiss cuts off all other sensations you feel. His lips claim yours as if it were his eternal right, one you've denied him and one he's had to rightfully fight for. You feel him sigh softly as he presses you against him, making sure he feels yours against every inch of his body. He's not kissing you. He's conquering you. He's marking his territory, laying claim to every tiny part of you, not wanting to leave any part of you unsullied by him.

He had cursed your spirit utterly centuries ago. He had planted the seeds of darkness that had only flourished in the centuries away from him. And now, having gathered enough of an army and grown strong enough to be virtually unstoppable, he was taking your body for himself.

And you realize that even the Valar do not forgive you your sin in wanting him even after all the terrible things he has done.

You still try to fight him. With the last of your strength, you push him away from you, trying to protect the remnants of light that remain in you. Light that he desired as much as he wanted to destroy it through his darkness.

"What have you done? Where am I?" You growl, trying your best to hide how panicked you are. You reach for your powers and throw him across the room.

You throw off the bonds that bind you and walk to the nearest window. You hold your breath as you see the lands that were once sacred gardens, where you prayed to the Valar, engulfed in flames and ash. He destroyed it all. He razed the entire city to the ground. All because you dared to bind yourself to someone other than himself.

"In your husband's house. Right where you belong." He approaches you silently and presses a kiss on your shoulder. He wraps his hands around you like a snake, tightening his grip on you.

You hyperventilate at the destruction you've brought upon those you loved. You wonder how many of them survived, how many escaped, how far his armies have spread, and how long he's kept you locked away in his golden fortress like a sick prize that you clearly were to him.

In your last, feeble attempt at rebellion, you scream. You scream until your throat aches, and much longer after that. You turn in his arms and throw yourself at him in a frenzy with fists and nails, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt all the people of Middle-Earth and you. You want to hurt him so much that he will feel it in every tiny part of himself, so he will be able to feel your own pain and despair.

You curse him in both elven and general speech; you throw insults at him; you struggle and fight with him. The fact that he stands calmly without losing his composure, taking your blows as if they were nothing, makes you even angrier and more passionate in your efforts to hurt him. You hit him even harder; you want to throw him off balance, drive him insane—just like he just did to you. You feel extremely powerless when you realise that you cannot.

"Have you finished?" He asks, catching your wrists in both hands as your attacks become less frequent and your screams turn into quiet sobs.

He pushes you against the wall and presses you against it, immobilising you. His other hand gently wipes the tears from your cheeks, as if that would somehow ease the ache in your chest. You feel as if the last of your light is dying a slow, painful death with each of his touches.

"Not even close. Let me out. Let me out or I'll go mad. I'll go crazy. I'll make sure every single day of your damn life is a nightmare."

"You won't. I need your light, Y/N. It's the only thing keeping me sane among these stinking orcs. And if you go mad... then we shall go mad here together. As husband and wife. For sickness and for worse. Until we heal all Middle-Earth."

"You are already lunatic." You promise him, twisting your wrists so you can dig your nails into his palms. He hisses slightly, but doesn't remove his hands from you.

"Possibly. But I'm not your monster. I didn't kill them, Y/N. Your little friends should have died, but I spared them. I only took their land from them. I showed mercy, Y/N. For you. Because of you. My wife. Don't you see that? Don't you like the control you have over me, my lady, my light, my sweet and dear wife?" With each new nickname he trails kisses along your temple to your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't that mean more than anything I have done for you?"

"It means nothing. It never meant anything and never will. You have no soul; you have no light. You can't... you can't bond with me... with mine... you won't pollute me."

You shiver as he runs his tongue from your jawline to your neck, stopping suddenly to suck a hickey into your skin. You gasp and bite your lip hard, trying not to let out any more sounds of pleasure, but you can’t just ignore the way he presses himself perfectly against you.

"Oh, Y/N…you know so little of the powers of darkness. I am already one with you. I have been through the ages and always will be. In body and soul, in mind, in dreams, in spirit, in flesh and blood, I will always be a part of you."

He's right. You know he is because you feel him with your whole being. Even hundreds of years apart didn't manage to get you out of the clutches of his influence.

He poisoned your mind through your dreams and entered your body like a venomous poison, starting with your soul and ending with your flesh. And the worst in all this situation was that you didn't know how to stop him.

"You… you promised you would leave me alone. That you wouldn't lift a finger until I called for you, until I came to you myself." You mumble as he pushes you back into the bed.

He straddles you and cups your cheek tenderly in his hand, watching you closely. He plays with you slowly, like a spider that has captured its prey in its web, savouring every moment he can explore your body with his fingers.

"Apparently you needed a little push. Beside that, didn't you ever try to reach me?" He asks, slowly weaving your hand into his. The rings on your fingers mock you more than his words. Because did you really defend yourself with all your might when you landed so easily in his arms? "You will beg for me, Y/N. You will crave my company. I will wait until the memory of any other kindred spirit than me dies in you. I am very patient, Y/N. Ages and aeons have taught me this. I will wait until you have no shelter, no confidant, no friend, no lover left on this world but me."

With that dark promise, he pushes your back down on the bed. He hovers over you, giving you no time to respond. He swallows your every breath hungrily, as if he'll never get to kiss you again, but you both know perfectly well that now that you're finally in his iron grip, it's quite the opposite. He has all the time in the world to destroy you. A thought that, along with the intensity of his kiss, fades inside you as you allow yourself to give in to your darkest, wildest, most ardent desires.

With every kiss that marked your body, every little moan, every soft gasp, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths of darkness. His fingers caressed your skin, igniting something much more than lust within you.

And even though you love the way he feels against you, digging your nails into his back and tangling your hands in his hair, pulling him as close as you can, wanting and needing him to finally become one with you after all these centuries, you don't give in to him completely.

You knew what he was like, what he was capable of, and what sweet lies his lips could tell as they caressed your breasts, peppering every inch of your exposed skin in a frenzy of kisses as his fingers prepared you for him. You could moan and hold on to him tightly, pretending he had you all to himself as the edge of his wedding ring brushed against your walls, but deep down, every little connection to him made you want to fight him even more.

But you'll play smarter next time. You were a diligent student, and he's just taught you a very important lesson. Patience is golden. So you'll wait. Wait until he believes he's completely tamed you, that you'll willingly become his king, his Queen of the Rings. You'll make him believe you're his and his alone, and at the right moment you'll plunge the dagger into his Mordor-black heart.

You cry out and bite his shoulder when, just as you think about plunging the dagger into him, he thrusts his length into your wet, aching walls. And the Valar above, if this were to be a sin, then you no longer wish to remain holy and pure.

As he begins to thrust into you with all his strength, no longer holding back the lust and desire suppressed for years, you wonder if this is the ecstasy elves feel when they return from this world and become one with the light of the Valar. If not, you are glad he has led you far away from that path.

He whispers something to your ear in black speech, but to you these are just fragments of meaningless words, as your head buzzes with the flood of feelings he gives you. He is relentless in his conquest of you, and for a moment you truly feel utterly defeated and at his mercy. It is only when the blood from his arm—from the exact place where you bit him—runs down your chest that you remember that this is not the end for you. You will not submit to him. Ever. He may have won you through deception, but he will never extinguish the fire within you—the light that may not have been as pure but still blazed beneath the surface of your skin.

"Bind... yourself to me." He grunts between his hard thrusts, trembling as he nears the edge. You don't know if it's a command or a needy cry of the desperate, lonely immortal, but you know that if your plan is to succeed, you must give him part of yourself he could hold on to...

“Halbrand!” You moan when he suddenly slides his hand between you and stimulates your clit, teasing you and bringing you closer to your pleasure, caressing you the way you used to do in the dark of night with him in mind.

"Mairon." He breathes shakily, his tone bordering on pleading. You shiver, realising what he's just revealed to you. The name he didn't give himself. The one he had no control over. And maybe, if the circumstances were different, if he'd won you over differently, you'd appreciate more how... sensitive to you he had to become to share something like that. "My light... Mairon." He doesn't ask. He never does. But in that moment, you could take it as his prayer to you. A plea from the depths of his heart, where there's a shred of light left. Which you know perfectly well there isn't. Or at least you want to believe that he's completely rotten to the core. Otherwise, he could truly love you. And knowing that would destroy you.

"Mairon." You moan as you both fall apart and you open yourself up to him, doing what he asked of you - bonding yourself to him with flesh and blood.

He collapses on top of you, trapping you in the tight embrace of his arms. He presses his mouth to your temple, his nose in your hair as he inhales and absorbs every last bit of you, wanting to memorise this moment forever and etch it into the memory of his mind, into his very being.

You allow it. For both him and yourself, to enjoy this stolen moment of peace between you two.

Because Sauron forgot one important thing. That in the glow of your light he can both bask and burn. And since you can no longer remain holy and good like Galadriel, since that path of light was blocked for you from the day you met him and the Valar have turned their back on you, refusing to protect you and defend you against him, then you will become much worse than all of them.

Middle-Earth should beware of the new Lady of the Rings.

#halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x oc #the rings of power #oneshot #romance #sauron x reader #annatar #halbrand #touch the darkness with me #halbrand x y/n #sauron x y/n #dark and light #enemies and lovers #took me so long but I don't regret anything #hope you will like it

240 notes · View notes

notreallythatlost · 2 hours ago

Text

ahhh stop 😭😭 she would be shocked, that’s what i can tell — the angst would be massive 😫

DRESS

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!human!reader

summary: it’s your last evening on númenor and you decide to wear a special outfit for the man you love.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, acting silly because of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1.4k

note: well, do i have to say anything more about this? no. 🙂‍↕️ inspired by one of my favorite taylor swift songs. this is my first time writing smut, so i really hope it turned out well. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. xx

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

It wasn't your intention to draw everyone's attention when you appear. You only wanted the attention of one person.

And you can feel his gaze on you, so hot that it literally burns your skin, but you don't let it show.

The dark red dress clings to your body and sparkles silver in the light of the fire. Your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders and you know that everyone would fall to their knees at the sight.

But you only want to see him kneeling in front of you. With his hands and lips on your naked skin.

After a brief moment of silence, conversations start again and you slowly turn around, only to meet Halbrand's gaze, who is standing next to Galadriel a few meters away from you.

You know the effect you have on him, you can see it in his eyes even from the distance.

“This time you really surpassed yourself,” a voice sounds next to you and you tear your gaze away from Halbrand.

Smiling, you take the mug filled with ale, that Isildur holds out to you and take a sip.

“Someone told me to come out of my shell,” you reply and you both laugh.

“Since when have you been listening to my advice?” he asks, still with a smile on his lips.

You just shrug at his words and look at him with a grin as he puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the others.

The evening continues and you have stopped counting how many mugs of ale you have already had. You are just about to take another sip when someone takes the mug out of your hand.

“Hey...” you protest and look up at Halbrand, who is now holding your wrist. “That was definitely enough ale for today,” he says as he pulls you to your feet.

You giggle softly and sway slightly against his firm body. “I won't let you boss me around, handsome,” you say and pat his chest before you try to pull away from him again, but he doesn't loosen his grip.

“Oh, yes. You will,” he whispers and a shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you like a wolf that has finally caught its prey.

Without another word, he pulls you with him, away from the drinking soldiers and to a place where you would be undisturbed.

Before you know it, he's pressed you against the nearest wall and buries his nose in your hair. His hands wrap around your waist, caressing your skin through the fabric of the dress.

“You have no idea, how much control this evening has cost me. I wanted you the second I saw you in that dress,” he growls, now tucking your hair behind your shoulder, to give himself access to your neck.

His lips brush the sensitive skin there, making you hum as you close your eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Halbrand whispers against your skin and you shiver, a reaction he’s only too happy to see.

“That was your intention, wasn't it? You wanted to drive me crazy?” he continues and gently bites your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“It's our last evening on Númenor, I thought a little distraction wouldn't hurt,” you whisper now, the effect of the ale suddenly replaced by the desire that shoots through your veins like fire.

The sound that comes from Halbrand is like that of an animal and he presses you a little harder against the wall.

“Did you see the looks they gave you?” he says close to your ear and lets his lips slide over your jaw. “Everyone wanted to rip that dress off your body.” With these words he lifts you up and turns with you.

Your lips meet in a wild, longing kiss, as if you were about to starve. You feel him take a few steps until your back hits wood. You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth and his grip on you tightens.

The kiss becomes wilder, your tongues in an endless dance for dominance.

A surprised sound comes from your lips as he takes your lower lip between his teeth and pulls on it.

Finally, he turns away from the wall again and gently lays you down on something soft moments later.

You are apparently in his room. You don't know how you got here and you don't care, because all that matters to you at this moment, is Halbrand leaning over you.

“The only reason I'm wearing this dress is so you can take it off,” you breathe and place your hand on his chest. But Halbrand wraps his fingers around your wrist again and looks you in the eyes with a mischievous smile, before he takes the other one and holds both of them above your head.

“Oh, my sweet little girl. We're not there yet,” he whispers and starts to push the skirt of your dress up with his free hand.

Your breath catches and you try to turn your hands out of his grasp, but he holds them too tightly.

“Halbr-,” your words are cut off by a moan as he runs a finger through your wetness. Another growl escapes him and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek so that you feel the scratch of his stubble on your skin.

Without further warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you moan loudly. He doesn't seem to want to make any secret of what's going on, just encourage you.

“Let me hear you,” he whispers, moving his fingers until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

Then he releases his grip on your hands and slides down your body. Knowing what would follow, you bury your fingers in his long hair and close your eyes.

As his tongue slides through your folds, you moan and your hips jerk forward. Halbrand grabs you with his hands and holds you tight, so you can't move while he eats you out.

You long for release, you can hardly think straight anymore, but he doesn't seem to want to give it to you.

Just as you wanted to tease him with this dress, now this is him paying you back.

“Halbrand...” you moan his name loudly and he raises his head, leaving your throbbing cunt full of desire.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice sounds and you hear the rustling of fabric. “Tell me what you long for,” he continues and you sit up slightly.

“I want you,” you whisper, with all the strength you have left. Then Halbrand holds out his hand to help you up. His fingers immediately find the back of the dress, where he quickly unties the laces. As soon as the fabric loosens around your body, he pushes it over your shoulders, until it slides down of its own and reveals you to his gaze.

“You are…” he doesn't say anything else, just stares at you in awe as he pushes you back again and you look up at him.

His hand finds yours on the mattress and he laces his fingers with yours. With his other hand, he positions himself in front of you and slides the tip of his cock over your entrance.

With one fluid movement, he sinks into you and you can't help but let out a breathless gasp. The air leaves your lungs and you feel Halbrands' hand resting on the side of your face.

“You belong to me. Don't forget that,” he says with such devotion and yet so firm that your heart clenches in your chest.

“Forever,” you reply breathlessly as he starts to move. The feeling makes you moan and your eyes roll back as you arch towards him.

“Fuck,” he moans and lets his head fall forward. In this moment, there is only him and you and nothing could ever come between you.

Halbrand starts to move faster, hitting a spot that makes you moan whenever he moves his hips. It doesn't take long before you're screaming his name as the orgasm flows through your body like a wave.

The sight of you must have been enough for him, because not a second later he empties himself into you with a rough gasp and then sinks down on you.

“You're perfect,” you hear his voice between bliss and satisfaction and smile weakly.

You want to say something else, but you're too tired.

But you got what you longed for.

It was your last day on Númenor, after all. Soon you would be going to war.

2024 notreallythatlost

#thank you for the reblog angel <33 #reblog answer #halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power

206 notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 12 days ago

Text

— BLESSED (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your daughter is starting to show character traits and abilities that you have no idea where she could have inherited them from. In the meantime, your husband is growing frustrated with Celebrimbor when it comes to forging the rings.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — There will be a second part where she finds out who her husband is but in this one she remains oblivious, although there are signs of course – to which the Reader is blind and deaf. 🤣 I have probably butchered the lore but I didn't even bother to google much about it because I had my own idea how to write it. 🙈 The Reader is a half-Elf because it is useful in Sauron's scheme (trying to convince Celebrimbor to forge the rings for men – Celebrimbor is like a father to Annatar's wife). What I know about the canon, though, is that Sauron actually spent centuries in Eregion. So, in this fic he spends a few years, which is still not a lot but longer than in the show.

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar but she keeps describing him as kind and noble, Annatar is not the best father (I don't think the fic should trigger anyone because it's not like he's awful either but I want to mention it here just in case), immaculate conception (sort of... lmao I don't know how to describe it), birth (not much of a description)

WORD COUNT — 6,460

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (I)

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you announced after approaching the human king standing by his horse after arriving back to Eregion.

You had seen him around before but you had never truly had any opportunity to talk to him. He had been so busy with the man you considered to be your uncle and your guardian that it had seemed inappropriate to ever interrupt their work. And now he was back and even filthier than the last time you had seen him. He wanted to speak to your uncle but Celebrimbor had made a promise to Lady Galadriel to never treat with this man named Halbrand again.

So you stood there and announced the news as Celebrimbor’s most trusted person in Eregion; a daughter of his old friend and one of the best human smiths he had ever worked with – and such exceptions for the Elven master were not many. And even though you had not inherited your father’s abilities to forge beautiful things, you were the most useful to your guardian when it came to helping him run Eregion smoothly. Celebrimbor was often too occupied with his work to notice or deal with certain matters. That was where you would walk in and help him just like your mother had taught you before she had decided to move to Mithlond.

Eregion was your home, though, therefore you had not left with her. The memory of your father was too painful for your mother to be here but you were quite the opposite – you loved to live in the city your father had spent most of his life in.

But without your mortal father and without your mother, you were quite alone. Lord Celebrimbor, whom you called an uncle, was truly the only person you had.

Just as you expected, though, the human king did not want to accept the information as he smirked at you.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked you.

“My uncle is occupied,” you explained, calmly. It was not the first time you were dealing with people of this sort. “But he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away.

“Are you asking me to leave?” Halbrand inquired you sighed softly as you froze and turned around once more, to face him again.

“The Lord of Eregion is asking you,” you answered, patiently.

“Perhaps I’ll just wait here,” the man smiled awkwardly and petted his horse. You admired his stubborn will even though it was an inconvenience to you and your uncle. “Just in case he changes his mind,” he added and turned around to tie his horse to the column. And as he did that, you spotted that his tunic was torn on his back, revealing long and fresh wounds on his skin.

And perhaps the Elven part of you would just turn the blind eye and leave but the human part of you pitied him. Yes, however it sounded like – your relationship started with pity. And the thread of understanding because you were aware of the weaknesses of the human flesh. You had seen your father suffering from the injuries that your Elven kin would heal from nearly instantly. You had seen his body growing weaker as he had been getting older; more fragile. And because of your love towards your father, you had known and understood Halbrand’s pain in a way that most Elves would not.

Therefore, you became the human king’s greatest advocate in front of your uncle. You were the one to tell Celebrimbor about his injuries, pleading to at least offer Halbrand the help of the Eregion medics. He did not agree. But when the evening came, you brought it up that the night was cold and asked your uncle if you should bring Halbrand a shawl.

So, perhaps it was a shawl that started it all – at least it was this way in Annatar’s version of your love story. And whenever you would ask your husband why he had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens of Eregion, he would always remind you that you had been the only one who had treated him with dignity and had cared for him even when he had been still in his human form.

Despite that noble reason for his affection towards you, it still felt surreal to be courted by the emissary of the Valars. You were a half-Elf with no exceptional talents… And yet, for you, a man of such lightness, who was chosen by the gods, would give up some of his privileges and stay in Eregion to work alongside your uncle and be your husband? It was nearly suspicious in a way but neither you or Celebrimbor ever thought of it this way. To Celebrimbor you were like his own daughter that he had never had. When Lord Annatar asked for your hand, he felt proud and blessed. And so did you, writing a letter to your mother in Mithlond with shaky hands to ask for her permission to marry.

But your mother was not really a part of your life anymore and she was a different person after your father’s passing. She agreed without asking any further questions.

A year after his arrival to Eregion, you became Lord Annatar’s wife. It was the happiest day of your life because after a few centuries of loneliness with no one but your uncle by your side, you could start a family of your own. And to have a family was all you had ever wanted.

You were standing by the window and staring at Eregion underneath with a dreamy gaze as the cool breeze refreshed your face and made your hair dance slightly in the air. You took a deep breath in and felt the overwhelming energy filling up your body. Married life was giving you a new sense of meaning and joy, especially with a man like Annatar – the kindest, the gentlest, the most noble and most humble. Even though his grey and simple robes had been recently replaced and he began to dress more elegantly, you knew that the change had not been his idea. It was Celebrimbor’s because he wanted your husband to present himself respectable enough for the rest of Eregion.

You felt your husband’s hands touching your arms as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his presence. He stood behind you and buried his face in your hair to place a kiss upon your head in that quiet moment of the morning before he would have to join your uncle in the forge and you would have to go downstairs to help with the administration matters.

“I have realised recently, my love, that I still have not given you any wedding gift,” Annatar pointed out softly and you opened your eyes to turn your head around and look at his beautiful face.

“It’s been months since our wedding… I have not even thought of that…” You admitted. “Because, to me, you are the grandest gift, my love,” you replied, truthfully. He smiled at you adoringly and caressed the side of your face with his fingertips but there was a playful sparkle dancing in his gaze.

“You are my wife and I am the Lord of Gifts. I shall spoil you with many,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Is there something you want? Something you want very badly perhaps? Name it and I shall give it to you,” he murmured as his hands wrapped around your waist and you felt your cheeks heating up. You looked down nervously and Annatar chuckled. “I can see there is something… Name it, my love.”

You hesitated. Perhaps he would find it to happen too soon. Perhaps he would find it not suiting him at all. But he was your husband with whom you had shared your whole heart, soul and body. He deserved to know about your desires.

“...A child,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly, still too shy to look up at his face.

You could sense his muscles flexing around you and becoming more stiff. The atmosphere changed in an instant and you regretted your confession immediately. After a long while of silence, you swallowed thickly and looked up eventually, filled with anxiety. Annatar’s brows were furrowed and his eyes lost the playful sparkle. He did not look angry but a bit confused and torn.

“F-forgive me. I know that a woman like me is not worthy of carrying a child of a man like y–”

“Stop it,” Annatar shushed you quickly and cupped your face to caress your cheeks with his thumbs as he kept staring deep into your eyes with a gentle expression. “I do not wish to hear of it. You are my wife. There is nothing you are not worthy of,” he insisted and you sniffled your tears back as he sighed. “If a child is what you wish for, I shall give it to you,” he announced after a short while but you could feel the hesitancy.

And you felt bad about it but you craved to have his child so much that you decided to ignore that hesitancy in his voice.

Therefore, you only nodded and you felt your husband’s hands lowering themselves onto your arms. He turned you around, so you would face Eregion again. And once you did, he placed his hands on your abdomen. At first, you found his gesture very sweet as your muscles relaxed. But the longer you stood like that in silence, the more uneasy you were starting to feel. There was a weird feeling forming inside of you – a new wave of energy coming from his hands and filling up your womb. Was it possible that…?

Well, he was an emissary of the Valars. He had many abilities and powers that the simple Elves could only dream of. You did not question it.

When he removed his hands, he kissed the back of your head and you furrowed your brows as you clutched onto the fabric of your dress on your abdomen.

“I can feel… I can feel a new life,” you turned around to meet his gaze. He was smiling at you kindly and lovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I… I did not expect it would happen like that…”

“I am in full control of the act of my own procreation. It would not happen without my consent and will,” he explained and you nodded at him, too grateful and overjoyed to question anything.

Annatar placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed them as you let out a happy laugh through the tears of joy. With his free hand he wiped your tears gently.

“Were you in control of choosing if our child would be a boy or a girl, too?” You wondered out loud. Your husband nodded with a slight smile. “What will the child be then?”

“You will see, my love, be patient and allow it to be a surprise,” he leaned in to kiss your lips delicately.

For some reason, you were sure it would be a boy. Despite Annatar’s gentleness and kindness, he was a master of his craft and a man of tradition. He would surely want a successor.

You were so convinced that you were carrying his son that in the conversations about your child, you often referred to them as he. Annatar would only smile at you sweetly but also playfully.

Your child was born on a warm, summer night. You were in bed, surrounded by the female medics of Eregion. Celebrimbor was in his forge, nervously drinking wine and pacing around. But Annatar was by your side, holding you in his arms and letting you squeeze his hands, encouraging you gently with his sweet words and you swore, he was making some of the pain go away somehow. Whenever you squeezed his hand tighter, he would place his free one upon your forehead and the pain would slightly subdue.

The sound of your baby’s cries was like sweet music to your ears and your eyes filled with tears when one of the medics handed you the screaming newborn.

“It is a girl, my Lady,” she told you with a smile and you laughed out of happiness, taking the little one into your arms as you stared at her in awe.

“A girl?” You whispered, looking up at your husband. You were surprised but not disappointed – to have a little girl with Annatar was a vision of the future so beautiful that you could not stop the fresh tears from streaming down your cheeks.

He did not say anything to that, he only smiled sweetly at you and fixed the sweaty strands of your hair that got stuck to your forehead. Then, he leaned in to kiss the top of your head.

“How do you want to name her, my love?” He asked. “Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” you fixed him and tried to hand him the baby. He froze for a moment but he eventually took the newborn child into his own hands as he kept staring at the little face with a very unreadable expression. “A-are you happy?” You asked, suddenly getting anxious.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Annatar nodded as his face lit up with a big grin. You sighed with relief and caressed the little cheek of your baby girl.

“Almárea,” you whispered. “Blessed.”

Focused on staring in awe at your little baby girl in her father’s arms, you nearly did not notice that he did not give you any reply. So, eventually, you looked up at him questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Annatar nodded eagerly. “It’s perfect,” he assured you and handed you the baby back. “I shall inform Celebrimbor. He will be the most delighted,” he stood up and left the room.

A few years passed as your husband was helping your uncle to forge the rings that would save Middle-earth. And your sweet little Almárea was growing in the meantime – the older she was getting, the more you could see that she was a physical copy of you.

When you had asked your husband about it, he had answered that it had been the result of the fact his physical form was not definite, therefore his child could not inherit any physical traits. It was making you a bit sad because you would love to see bits of your husband in your offspring but you also did not want to complain about the things that did not truly matter in the end.

That she was Annatar’s daughter there was no doubt. It was something about her soul; her inner light differed from the other Elves. You could feel from the very first time you had held her that she was stronger and more powerful than any of the Elves inside Eregion. You were sure that she was truly blessed by the Valars due to her father’s origin.

When it came to Almárea’s character, though… You sometimes wondered what was causing the constant mischief, which was innocent but still present. She was a little deceiver and a little liar very often as she kept making up stories, playing tricks or making people believe the most absurd stories. Sometimes she was able to make people even see the things she was describing. Like that time when she kept blabbering about the beautiful butterflies flying all over the room.

And you saw them. You saw them all – shimmering in the light in all the possible colours. They were so beautiful that you kept laughing and trying to catch them as Almárea giggled. And that was how Annatar found you after coming back to your chambers from the day in the forge.

“What are you doing?” He froze, a little taken aback as he glanced at his daughter and then back at you.

“The butterflies, they are–” You tried to explain.

“Mummy is trying to catch the air, daddy. Is it not funny?” Almárea asked and you furrowed your brows at her.

“But the butterflies–” You started but as you looked around, they all disappeared. You looked at Almárea with a sour expression and she laughed.

“Oh, mummy, I am sorry. It was funny to watch,” she admitted to use treachery as she ran up to you and hugged your waist.

You did not like how malicious – even if in an innocent manner – some of her jokes were. But you could not be angry for too long. Not at your sweet little daughter.

“Oh… Well…” You hesitated nervously and patted her back. “It is quite alright, my dear. But that was not nice.”

“How did you do that?” Your husband asked, a little harshly. You gave him a soft look, trying to calm him down.

“She did not mean to be cruel, she had no idea that–” You began to make excuses.

“I am not talking about the so-called joke. I am asking about the illusion. Almárea?” Annatar approached you two and put his hand on your daughter’s arm to turn her around. The movement was not rapid but it was most definitely quite harsh.

“I just… I just think of something very hard and… And I can make people see things,” Almárea tried to explain as she looked down. “Is it something bad to do, daddy?”

“You are too young to play with such a gift,” Annatar’s face changed quickly from harsh to kind and gentle again as he smiled at Almárea and caressed her cheek. “Unwillingly, you have just been cruel to your mother and I am sure that was not your intention. You should stop playing with it for now,” he explained and Almárea nodded.

But you knew already that she would probably not listen. It was not in her nature to follow anyone’s requests, pleas or orders.

The day started like nearly every other. You woke up in your husband’s arms and he was awake already – sometimes you wondered if he ever slept at all because you had never witnessed him doing so.

The hour was still early and you watched the sun rising in the skies outside your window, exchanging kisses and love declarations. However, on this day, your husband seemed to be a little tense when you peppered his jaw with sweet little kisses.

“What is it, my love?” You asked as you lifted yourself up on your elbow, still looking at his beautiful face and tracing the outlines of it with your fingertip.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar sighed and held your wrist softly as he put your fingers on his lips and kissed them gently.

“Why? What is it?” You furrowed your brows.

“It is about Celebrimbor and I know that what I am going to reveal is going to hurt you deeply, my love,” his eyes filled with sadness.

“Now you simply must tell me… You know how dear he is to me,” you shook your head, trying to read his face but all the years of sharing your life with Annatar, you had learnt already that it was an impossible task to ever know what was truly on his mind.

“I have spoken to him recently…” Annatar began and let go of your wrists to put his hands on your waist and roll you over onto your back as he hovered above you. “...about the rings that must be crafted. The Nine rings for the nine human kings to help their kin as well.”

“Yes…?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and gasped when his skilled fingers pulled your nightgown up. All those years of being his wife and his touch could still ignite the fire within you. You wondered sometimes how he was able to do it.

But now, with his fingers roaming all over your exposed skin, your mind was in haze and you were not able to think clearly.

“Oh, darling, I have no idea how to tell you… But your uncle does not think of humans to be worthy enough to have such rings,” Annatar revealed and you froze at his words as your eyes widened.

“T-that is impossible,” you refused to believe him although he would never lie to you. “My father… He was human and uncle Celebrimbor loved him and adored his craft. He loved him so much that he raised me after his death. It is impossible that now he refuses to forge the rings for humans… No, I refuse to–”

“That is the truth,” Annatar’s voice sent shivers down the spine since it had gotten harsh all of the sudden. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I am not accusing you of lying, I simply–”

“Yes, you are,” Annatar looked deep into your eyes as a spark of anger sparkled in his. His jaw was clenched and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, which was causing you slight pain. “He refuses to fulfil his mission and he thinks of your father’s kin as lesser.”

“I shall speak to him,” you promised as tears filled your eyes. Annatar softened immediately as his fingers went back to caressing you and he leaned in to kiss away the small tears upon your cheeks.

“Thank you… That would be very helpful,” he muttered between the kisses. “My love…”

You loved serving breakfast the most. You loved feeling useful and to take care of your family. It made you feel fulfilled in a way nothing else could, even though you did not mind running Eregion in your uncle’s name when he required it. However, seeing Almárea and Annatar by the table, eating the food you had prepared and talking about their plans for the day… That felt the most precious and the most special.

On that day, she looked up at you with big, pleading eyes as she watched her father preparing to leave for the day. He was standing in front of the mirror and swiftly tying some of his hair strands into a bow, which would protect his eyes from being interrupted while he worked.

“Can you do the same to my hair, mummy?” Almárea asked you. “I want to wear it like daddy.”

“I shall do it,” Annatar smiled at you both as he approached the breakfast table to stand behind your daughter’s chair. “Mummy must leave now and speak to uncle Celebrimbor,” he gave you a meaningful look and you nodded your head.

“Yes, that is right,” you confirmed. “Can you take her to her class once you’re done tying her hair?” You asked him sweetly.

“Oh, of course,” your husband replied and you kissed his cheek before leaning down to kiss your daughter’s forehead, too.

After that, you left your chambers and hurried to Celebrimbor’s forge. You were scared of this conversation and you had no idea how to start it as well. You couldn’t hide the fact that Celebrimbor’s sudden change of views hurt you deeply. You hoped that you could convince him to make up his mind but even the emissary of the Valars could not. On the other hand, you were closer to Celebrimbor than Annatar would ever be. He was like a father to you these days.

When you went inside the forge, it was empty. And even though you were supposed to look for your uncle, you could not help to just roam around for a while and take a deep breath in as you smiled to yourself at all the sweet memories you had with this place – like your father…

He had been working alongside Celebrimbor and you would run around happily – sometimes getting scolded, sometimes being shown many interesting details about their craft. Sweet little half-Elven girl that would always make everyone laugh. And as time progressed, you had been growing up but not ageing – and for your father it had been the opposite. He had not been growing up but he had been ageing. And, one day, he had eventually become too weak to use the hammer.

Remembering all those bittersweet moments, Celebrimbor’s voice startled you a little as he stood by the railing of the stairs leading up to his study.

“(Y/N)?” He asked and you looked up with a soft smile.

“Uncle Celebrimbor,” you sighed with relief that it was only him you were seeing and not some sort of phantom or a ghost. You gathered your skirts and walked upstairs to join him. “I am here to speak with you… About a rather delicate manner,” you informed him and looked him up and down carefully.

Truly, he had changed. He looked exhausted and a little uneasy as if he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. You immediately found compassion for his state.

“I am aware that crafting such powerful items has cost you a lot and you must feel overworked…” You started. “I know you have finished the rings for the dwarves not so long ago and I am not here to rush your progress. By all means, take your time, uncle, but your views about humans–”

“Was it him? Did he send you?” Celebrimbor’s face changed immediately. He looked concerned and a bit… scared? You froze at that reaction.

“What do you mean by that? Of whom are you speaking? My husband?” You asked, taken aback. “First, you are insulting my father’s kin… My kin as well… And now… Now you are trying to insinuate something about my husband? The emissary of the Valars?” You raised an eyebrow. “It was me who came up with the idea of speaking with you.”

“Have you not noticed yet, my sweet child, after all the years of your marriage, that he plants the seeds of ideas in people’s minds to make them think they came up with them on their own?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Even if it is true, I do not see what is wrong with it. He is here to fulfil the Valars’ plan to save Middle-earth. How can you say that forging the rings to save humans is below you?” You shook your head. “Protecting that which is most fragile, most dear, is a task entrusted to all Elves,” you reminded him. “If you abandon half of my kin now, in the hour of darkness, I shall never forgive you, uncle,” your voice trembled when you tried to reach his eyes with yours, to show him all your love towards him – but also all your pain.

“I do not think lowly of humans. I loved your father, he was my dearest friend… I just… I needed an excuse to deny your husband,” Celebrimbor sighed and looked away.

“Oh, uncle, if you are overworked, he is going to understand and give you time,” you put your hand on his arm but he flinched. “Annatar is the kindest, the gentlest soul I have ever met. You used to think the same of him. What happened?”

“Do you…” Celebrimbor’s eyes found yours, “...do you trust him?”

“With my life,” you gasped at the question. Of course you trusted your husband. What kind of question was that?

“Very well then,” your uncle nodded and sighed before running his hand down his face. “I might be overworked indeed… I need a break. And after that, I can go back to forging the rings. My senses are beginning to fool me,” he confessed. “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to hurt you with my words.”

“Oh, poor uncle… Please, rest. Annatar will understand,” you assured him softly and wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug.

But Annatar was not as understanding to hear the news as you had been suspecting. He was smiling but the corners of his mouth twitched when you finished telling him how the conversation with Celebrimbor had been like.

“Of course, he can wait. He is an Elf. He lives for an eternity. But for the humans in Mordor time remains priceless… They suffer each day and their lives are short. I expected that you would know something about it, my love,” your husband nodded his head and walked away, leaving you a little speechless and hurt.

He was right. You had not fought for your kin strong enough but you also had too much love for Celebrimbor in your heart to keep arguing with him.

“I do understand, my darling. But I also have never seen my uncle in such an awful state,” you admitted. “He needs to rest,” you added, trying to make Annatar realise that, too. “He is not going to forge excellent rings when he is overworked and losing his senses.”

“He must finish the rings before they finish him first,” Annatar turned around to look at your face. His expression was quite harsh and it made you take a step back, therefore he softened immediately while approaching you. “My love, I am so sorry… I do not mean to be like this, you know that, right?” He put his hands on your arms. “But we are running out of time. Forging the rings for the dwarves took us years. It is going to take us another few more to forge the rings for humans, too. Therefore, we should start as soon as possible,” he tried to explain calmly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a heart in me to push Celebrimbor…” You shook your head and Annatar walked away rapidly as he turned his back on you to look out of the window. You spotted his fists clenching and unclenching but he remained silent. “I… I shall go to pick Almárea up from her class… I think she should be ready now,” your voice broke a little.

You had never expected you would have to choose a side between your uncle’s and your husband’s. They seemed to be such close friends and now…

But, before you left, you hesitated and turned around to look in your husband’s direction.

“You really should not…” You whispered, “force him to do it too soon. His mind is in the most fragile state now… He even… He accused you of–”

“Accused me of what?!” Annatar turned around quickly, startling you.

“I don’t know what exactly… But he asked me for some reason if I trusted you…” You confessed.

“And what did you tell him?” Your husband demanded an answer and his eyes turned cold. It was nearly impossible to remember at that moment that they could be so kind and loving, too.

But they were only this gentle way when everything was going according to his plan. And, so far, everything had been like that. Until now.

You were aware, however, that his unusual anger was caused by the pressure that the gods themselves were putting onto his shoulders.

“I told him I trusted you. Of course I did. Annatar, you are my husband…” You answered, surprised that he had questioned you like that. “Perhaps both of you need a break. You are acting differently, too,” you pointed out before leaving to walk your daughter home after her class.

On your way home you bumped into your friend Mirdania. She began telling you stories from the forge and Almárea was growing bored as she stood there, holding your hand and drawing circles with her foot.

“Almárea, you can go upstairs already,” you informed your daughter. “Daddy is there.”

She nodded at you and waved Mirdania goodbye as she ran away to disappear inside the tower in which your chambers were. You watched her with a smile on your lips, especially at the sight of the bow in her head – now slightly crooked after a few hours – trying to resemble her father’s one.

Mirdania kept you occupied with her chatting for a longer time after that and you kept listening to her with a soft smile but when she eventually informed you that she had to go back to work, you were grateful. You went inside the tower with a slight eye roll as you began walking upstairs to go back to your family.

When you opened the door and heard Almárea’s giggles, you smiled widely, expecting her to play with her father as they sometimes would. But when you went inside the room where they were sitting together, you spotted Annatar being on the verge of lashing out. Almárea was chuckling and tilting her head slightly – an undeniable sign that she was projecting something onto her father’s mind at this very moment.

This time it was you walking in on Annatar being fooled. But he was not about to take it as lightly as you.

“Stop it,” Annatar drawled out. “This is not funny. Stop it!”

“What is going on here?” You looked at your daughter and her smile froze. “Were you not forbidden to play your tricks, Almárea?” You asked her and approached Annatar to put your hand on his tense shoulder.

“Daddy wanted me to try!” Almárea explained and stopped the visions from happening.

“You did?” You looked down at your husband with a raised eyebrow but he only stood up and walked away to stand on the balcony. He was angry and visibly unsettled. “What did you show him?” You asked your daughter.

Something was telling you it had not been butterflies.

Almárea shrugged her arms and avoided your gaze. You furrowed your brows and sighed, following your husband outside.

“Do not be upset, my love. I am sure whatever she has shown you was of an innocent nature,” you began softly. “Now you know how it feels like when she’s in one’s mind,” you chuckled nervously. “She did not mean to scare you.”

“It was not the vision itself that scared me,” Annatar turned around to look at you. He was still disturbed and surprised as his fists clenched around the railing of the balcony. “It was the fact I was not strong enough to make it stop. Could you ever do that?” He asked you and you opened your mouth a little. “I should be able to make it stop easily.”

“I have never tried,” you admitted. “I do not know, I cannot say…”

Annatar snorted at that and looked away again. His knuckles turned white from squeezing the railing so hard and you put your hand gently on top of his.

“Why does her power scare you?” You asked. “Is it of an evil kind? If so, how could that happen? You are the emissary of the Valars; made of pure light–”

“And you?” Your husband turned around again to meet your gaze. “What do we truly know of your heritage? Was your father not from The Southlands? And the humans of this realm… Were they not the ones who had followed Morgoth out of their own free will?”

His words hurt like knives. You took a step back and shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. The man in front of you was not the man you had married – gentle, soft, kind, noble and humble. But you refused to believe it was his fault. He had changed just like uncle Celebrimbor – and it was all caused by the fact they had been working so hard… too hard… on the rings.

“Mummy… Daddy… I am sorry,” your daughter’s voice interrupted you as she entered the balcony as well. She looked up at the both of you and sniffled. Your heart clenched at the sight and you crouched down to fix the bow in her hair.

“It is quite alright, my dear. It was not your fault, you only did what daddy asked you to,” you gave your husband a stern look.

“I…” Annatar cleared his throat. “I was simply curious about this… gift.”

“Is it evil, daddy?” Almárea dared to look up at him with so much curiosity, respect and admiration that your heart filled with love once again you chose to forget about his hurtful accusations.

“No gift is good or evil, Almárea,” Annatar smiled softly at her as his eyes filled with kindness again. “It is us who choose how we use our gifts.”

“Daddy is right,” you nodded and kissed her forehead before standing up and Almárea hugged Annatar’s waist. He put his arm on her back and caressed it although he still looked as if he was overthinking something.

“Can I go to uncle Celebrimbor now? He promised to teach me a little about the gemstones!” Almárea smiled widely at you and you nodded. She clapped her hands and ran out of your chambers.

“I am going to start forging The Nine on my own, by the way,” Annatar announced to you when you were left alone with him. “Celebrimbor might join when he’s ready. However, the work must not stop,” he pointed out.

You bit on your lower lip and eventually nodded your head. You approached him and caressed his shoulder, though, trying to soothe him.

“I wish you gave yourself a break as well. You are overworking yourself,” you whispered.

Annatar held your hand and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. At this very moment he was radiating nothing but love, warmth and kindness. You squeezed him tighter and sighed with relief.

“Do not worry about me. I am going to be nothing but fine but I shall not rest until all Middle-earth is healed. Forgive me for my previous harshness,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Please, do not even mention,” you shook your head and kissed his lips briefly before giving him a sweet smile. He smiled back at you and cupped your face to caress your cheeks. “What did she show you, my love?” You asked, still curious. Annatar’s face went back to serious immediately.

“I asked her to show me something nice,” he explained. “And so she did… She showed me my greatest desire.”

“And that is…?” You frowned.

“The rings. All of them. Forged,” he answered and you nodded.

“She is too young to understand the importance of these items and your mission in Eregion…” You pointed out. “How was she able to penetrate your heart like this?”

“Now you know what truly scared me, my love,” Annatar nodded softly and the fear in his eyes was truly genuine but you spotted a sparkle of excitement there as well.

“Should I worry about her?” Your voice trembled.

“No, no… Not at all,” your husband pulled you closer once more to soothe you. “Her gift – if used correctly – might be the most useful for all the peoples of Middle-earth.”

“How so?” You mumbled out the question and Annatar hesitated with the answer before smirking slightly.

“Only time will tell.”

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

208 notes · View notes

bamsywrites · 1 month ago

Text

And Comes Dawn.

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.

Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.

Series Masterlist

The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.

He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.

"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."

You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.

He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."

"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.

"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.

"And what do you hope for in times like this?"

"A new start. A place to start fresh..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"

"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.

He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.

"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."

"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.

"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."

"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."

“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.

"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."

"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"

He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.

Everyone had darkness.

His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.

This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.

He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.

And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #///mine #And Comes Dawn.

242 notes · View notes

thyras · 10 days ago

Text

→ the bearer of fruits

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

WORD COUNT → 8.9k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, mentions of abuse (sauron kind of manhandles reader and threatens her, while she throws stuff at him), mentions of trauma, some fluff (if that can even be associated with him), manipulation, dark deeds, unprotected p in v, implied smut, handjob, pregnancy

SUMMARY → after your husband’s departure of Eregion, you are left hollowed and sorrowed. you find solace in your work and planting your seeds until an unexpected visitor shows up at the gates of Eregion.

AUTHORS NOTE → wow this took ages to finish, sorry about that. i've been so busy with school and mom life that i just was so drained of inspiration for this part. i wanted to touch more on reader and his background as it really defines how their relationship works. they are very hot and cold with each other, she may be really dark at times, even darker than him at times, but she is good at hiding it and even can suppress it. idk i hope you guys enjoy as well be reviving up in the next few parts. @sansaorgana you asked me to tag you, so here you are my friend ❤️

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

The fire crackled against its fuel as you flipped through a volume from the First Age. You had dove into anything that could take your mind off the sorrow you felt with his departure again. This time, you thought of starting to sow some seeds for your husband’s plan. For weeks, you had been coming after all the smiths had gone home, and you would be left in silence, hoping that one person would see you.

Which had not happened once.

Your hand fanned across the page. The silver band on your finger caught the light and shined its beautiful blue hue in the moonlight. A smile crept up on your face as you twisted it around your finger. The bluish inscription appeared in Sarati lettering, the ancient written form of your kin.

You rarely spoke Quenya anymore, but the inscription on the ring was something you always remembered.

Fairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.

You had been there in that elven forge of old when he crafted the ring. When you bound yourselves in mind, body, and soul. The Beauty of the Woodland was no more, for she had become his Wicked Beauty.

You snorted softly at the name. The Beauty of the Woodland. That’s all you had been to your kin, a goddess crafted by the Valar and sent to honor your family with your fair beauty. Your life before your husband had been nothing but pure subjection to fill that role and heal your kind.

For you were perceived to be an emissary of Valar in fair form.

But that was hardly true; you were just an elf gifted with refined beauty, which a woman of no consequence birthed. No fair powers filled you other than the gift to heal.

As you had done with him in those days.

The morning was bright, reflecting on the golden leaves down onto your glittering hair. You pushed some behind your ear as you bent down to gather some fungi to take back with you. You had ventured alone early in the morning, not a wise thing, but with years on you and a keen sense for danger, you always carried a blade concealed in your sleeve.

You started humming a sweet song while moving through the woods, peeling off fungi and picking medicinal weeds you could not grow. Your humming grew into a lovely, silvery song.

You hesitated a moment, though, when you reached for a mushroom nestled in a small patch by a tree. A certain iciness came over the forest, the gloominess of a rain cloud crawling over the once bright forest. You stood up and swallowed hard as the eeriness fell even more over the forest.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose suddenly as if you turned and looked behind you. Nothing. Your pulse raced. Your hand reached under the sleeve of your robe for the blade. Your eyes closed as you took a few shallowed breaths before a shadowy breath crossed your ears. Its disembodied voice caused you to shiver. You took a few breaths before opening your eyes and throwing the blade at a tree behind you.

You turned and saw nothing but the shining blade in the tree. As the sun was shining once again and the iciness over the forest lifted, you walked over and pulled your blade out before saying some Quenya words to the tree in sorrow for the damage.

You turned and went back to pick the mushrooms quickly. The darkness was gone, but you still felt its lingering touch on the shell of your ear—the caress almost as seductive as the taste of the finest wine or fruit. You licked your lips as a dark smile rose on your lips.

The darkness had touched you as a little girl; watching your father turn mad at your mother’s lovers, killing her in front of you, had changed you before you even were a teen. In later years, you plotted to kill the man for killing your mother.

Each day, you waited.

And watched.

Until you struck one night, holding a pillow over his face as you plunged his dagger into his heart. The pillow muffled his screams. You leaned in and spoke;

“For the Valar have forsaken you, Commander, and I am their justice.” You paused and took the pillow off so he could look into his daughter’s dark eyes. “See my face, and know it is I who have ended you.” The shocked look crossed his eyes before the light of the Valar left him.

You had been so dramatic in the following days, playing the part of a grief-stricken daughter. Only to hold back the triumph and satisfaction of ridding this world of the man who abused you and your mother enough to stray.

You returned to the road that would take you to your village. It would not take long to get back into the confines of those walls.

Your cage.

Your shackle.

It only brought more blackness to your heart lingering there. But you could hardly protect yourself on a long journey to find another set of kin. Your feet stopped as you felt a whisper of a breeze and turned to see a man walking, well limping, just ahead of you, hand covering his leg as the fabric of his pants was tainted with blood. His reddish hair glistened in the golden sun, much like a flame would as it would against its fuel. The strands were long and braided on the sides.

He stumbled, and you raced to grab his frame before he hit the ground. The weight of him caused you to collapse onto the dirt road. You looked down to see he was an elf, from what kin you did not know. His face was of the fairest beauty, someone to rival even your own. He smiled weakly.

“By the Valar,” he breathed hoarsely. “Have I reached Valinor?” You shook your head and told him your name and that you were a healer. He repeats your name back as if it was the sweetest of nectars. His hand reached up to touch your cheek, eyes fluttering as he swallowed hard.

You looked down at his leg and saw the deep puncture of something in his upper thigh. He had fashioned a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blooding, no doubt. His eyes looked up into yours, pleading almost.

"Boar," he breathed hoarsely again. You nod and smooth your hand across his clammy cheek in a comforting gesture.

"I'll get you well again; it's the least I can do." The man nodded, and you smiled before trying to help him get up. He tried greatly not to put all his weight on you as you walked, but it would only cause him even more great pain. So when you reached the outskirts of your village, you signaled for a couple of men to help you get him to your home.

Once the stranger was laid on the bed, you thanked the other men and began mending his wound. Throughout that time, you could not help but feel the warmth of his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned and worked tirelessly in your craft.

"You are so beautiful," he said through labored breaths, "like a star from the heavens." Your face warmed, and you finished bandaging his leg carefully. He reached up his shaky hand to push some of your hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine and caused you to look over at him. You knew he was probably delirious from the blood loss and infection. He would not remember a thing when he woke up, but you prayed he would.

"Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake." You smiled, took his hand, and gave it a light kiss of reassurance. A smile touched his battered lips before his eyes closed. You laid his arm across his chest and rose out of your chair to start the clean-up.

Hours later, when he awoke again, you sat a bowl of stew next to him on the small table and a glass of wine. He sat up, took the bowl, and began eating eagerly as you moved back to the small kitchen.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head to you.

"You're welcome," you paused. "You should be well enough to travel by morrow's eve; your kin must be worried about you." Something in his eyes changed as he lowered the bowl to his lap. His eyes turned dark like yours had when you murdered your father. A touch of your darkness rose as his did.

"I have no kin," he said softly, his eyes still staring at the bowl in his hands. You nodded before turning back to the worktop, where you continued to mash your herbs.

Silence grew over you both until he spoke again moments later. "They perished in the war." You nod. Many of your kin had as well, but again, it was not even sorrowful to you. These people had stood by and let their commander abuse you and your mother.

"I'm sorry," you said with fake sorrowfulness. “To lose one's kin is a tragedy that most of us do not heal from.

"You speak as if you know of this," he said, reaching to grab the glass. You nodded in an ever-convincing gesture toward his question. If it was not for the darkness of the hour, you swore you saw a nebulous smile touch his lips.

"My father died in the war; his company was ambushed, and before the rest of the force could reach them, they all but perished." You lied while staring at him in those dark eyes as he watched you. Your secret still hidden.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, inclining his head toward you. But before he could continue, you spoke again.

"Don't be; he was an arrogant, abusive man." You flashed him a dark smile. He could not help but chuckle. "I was more sorrowful for the men under his leadership, and I thanked the Valar for freeing me of his abuse." You looked down at your stone, knowing you had already told him too much of your despise of this place and its memories. But it felt good to touch the darkness again, that part of you that you forced into submission to keep your facade of the virtuous, sweet, elven healer.

You heard him stand up and move over to you. His fingers cupped your chin and brought your face to meet his gaze in the dim light of the candles. His eyes were dark as night and full of desire, and you gave him an equally dark smile.

His grip tightened on your chin, and you let a sharp breath fall out as you closed your eyes. His hot breath crossed your face and sent shivers down your spine. Before his lips could meet yours, you pushed on his chest. Your hand was placed against his fluttering heart as his gaze watched you, waiting for you to make the next move.

"I hardly know you,” You said, giving him a playful look. “And it would look less than virtuous for you to be seen touching me." You continued, fingers gripped onto his shirt as you raised your brow to taunt him more. The darkness in his eyes seemed to come alight with an animalistic presence. A growl rumbled through his chest as you ran your fingers down his chest. “Now, you would not want to take a fair maiden’s virtue?” you said with a fake pout. The mischief in your gaze made a nebulous smile touch his face again. It sent your pulse racing as every inch of you heated up.

“Temptress,” he breathed. Releasing your chin and running his warm fingers down your neck. “For you have deceived an even greater deceiver.” In an instant, you had your fingers wrapped around his throat and backed up against the wall. A blade hovered above your fingers, cool Valinor silver pressed against his jaw. You felt the tension in his neck as he swallowed and lifted his chin to give you better access to the skin, his eyes closing as you leaned in slowly.

“You think you have deceived me?” You said, watching his eyes flicker open when a laugh of disbelief left your lips. “I knew you were watching me. The second I walked into those woods. I played the fair innocent maid, oh so sweet.” You tightened your grip as you leaned in to run your tongue against the skin of his jaw. His muscles tensed under your grasp again, your teeth grazing his chin. “I bet the singing got you real hard.” You tempted, his eyes closing again as his nostrils flared. “Hard enough to do my bidding and be rewarded with a taste?” Your lips ghosted over his. His hands kept perfectly still next to him, fists clenching as he struggled to stay calm against your grasp.

“Little one, you have no idea who you are bargaining with,” he growled.

“I have an idea,” You run the blade just underneath his jawline. A trickle of black blood fell to no surprise to you. You leaned in and lapped the sweet nectar, coating your lips as you took in some of his essence. It tasted godly, giving you a taste of his malice and power. You craved more and wished to allow this being to cover you in it so you could know what true power felt like, not the innocent power of one's flesh but the over someone's mind and soul—morphing them into what you wanted. “So what shall I call you, my lord? Or do you want me to scream out your true name as you have your way with this fair maiden?”

He reached up and pushed more of your hair out of your face. The touch was so gentle for a man who had murdered so many of your kin. You should have been scared of him, terrified even. But you knew you were just as black-hearted as he was, which probably drew him to you.

You were an expert manipulator and temptress.

A true dark widow leading any unsuspecting man to her web of deception. This time, though, you had caught the Great Deceiver in your web; he was yours now. Your two dark souls were finally connected, yearning for release and pleasure.

"Mairon,"

The clinging of a glass brought you out of your musings before looking over at the source of the sound. Celebrimbor strode up the staircase with a glass of wine for the both of you and a pile of parchment between his left arm. "May I join you?" he asked as a smile touched his lips.

You nodded and motioned to the chair. Finally, your plan bore fruit. He set a glass down in front of you. You reached and brought it to your lips, drinking the liquid as he moved to lay his papers out on the table across from you. Designs, no doubt, for more rings. You turned back to your reading, delicate fingers turning the large page as you read the old words.

"I see you have taken an interest in First Age magics." You look up at him as he took a drink. "It is a delightful read, even for someone who was there."

"I never experienced those magics, only the ones to destroy." You said truthfully, but you hid your dark smile at the mention of the shadowy being who had taught you many of those dark things.

“I forget myself. You lost all your kin to him.” You gave him a sorrowful look before turning back to reading. Celebrimbor raised a brow at you as your left hand moved across the page. His gaze fell when the moonlight from the window caught your ring, causing the inscription to reappear. He moved to pick up your hand as a missing piece of his puzzle had probably been solved, but before you registered what he was doing, he had the ring of your finger in haste.

Your body weakened with age, and signs started to appear on your once beautiful, serene face, showing how your choice to stay in Middle-Earth had affected you. The air in your lungs grew cold, and your mind became lonely as you could no longer feel his power and dark thread against you—the life force to your beauty and enhanced healing abilities.

Celebrimbor watched you shift and change, then glanced down at the ring. Even more surprise crossed his face as he stood and walked quickly to the window, hoping to see how it worked. But the inscription all but faded as it was not connected to your essence anymore. Your husband's blood had given you vibrant beauty for the rest of your days, but only if his gift was placed upon your finger.

The bond you shared and promised to keep had been laid into that ring, blood mixed with blood. His vow was recited and dropped into the molten Valinor silver ore as you recited yours. He forged it under the starry, moonlit night in love and promise for more. Thus, it created the final piece of your bond, gave you access to some of his abilities, and gave the beautiful silver its blue hue.

The Valar were displeased with his creation and choice to massacre your people, citing that if he genuinely were remorseful for his deeds, he would return to Valinor to pay for his crimes. At the same time, you paid for yours in loneliness and longing for the Undying Lands that you would never meet.

You both turned your backs and knew no road to redemption did not leave you separated from one another. So you both agreed to cleanse and heal this world in your image so that you may sit upon your thrones and finally have peace from the looming threat of the Valar’s wrath.

You were sure he had just felt the parting, and soon, his shadowy form would be upon you—or worse.

"How–ho–" he stuttered out as he tried to get the blue hue to show again. Your frail body stood and snatched the thin silver ring from his hand before slipping it back on, and you shifted back into your youthful, beautiful form again.

The air in your lungs returned, and you felt a tear fall from your eye. The comfort of his mind and soul returning, the pain of silence and separation becoming too much. You gave the little thread a soft tug to tell him it was alright and just part of your plan. "Teach me," His eyes were blown wide almost as he moved over to the table quickly almost knocking the wine glasses off. "Tell me everything or show me how you did it,"

"I did not do anything, Lord Celebrimbor," You said, covering your hand so he would not have another chance to snatch the ring off your hand. "It was a gift from my late husband to torture me," you said with slight anger; though this was about to be a clever story, your beloved was probably about to be very disappointed in you slandering his name.

Celebrimbor looked at you, confused. "His dying wish was to see me live an immortal life tied to this." You hold up the ring to him. "For being unfaithful to him. It is my shackle, my lord, and I doubt you wish to craft something as such." You look back down at your book, hiding the pain in your face as you tell such lies about your husband, but this was needed to keep Celebrimbor going. Keep him thinking about the other rings, sowing your husband’s dark web in even his absence.

"But you wear it proudly? And your reaction earlier tells me he means more to you." You cursed at your earlier slip in disguise, but no one had ever tried to take it off your finger. So it caught you off guard, and your mask had faded. You had not expected him to do that.

"I wear it because my immortality depends on it; my gift to heal depends on it. I wear it so I can live." You finally look up at him, and your eyes gaze into his. "Wouldn't you do the same, my lord?"

"But you have used your ring for good," You held back the snort at his comment. "Healed Eregion for centuries and been an utmost loyal friend to my family." All for your husband's benefit, he had an in and a watchful eye here. He had what he wanted, and you had a warm place to sleep while you waited for him.

"You flatter me, my lord," Your eyes turned back to the page as he touched your shoulder.

"I am sorry, my friend; I did not mean for my impoliteness. Forgive me." You placed a hand over his and smiled softly up at him, your charming, deceitful self on full display.

"It is quite alright." He released you before going back to his chair. He picked up a quill and began scratching out notes. You returned to your reading until a cool breeze entered the room from the window, causing your senses to heighten as you felt the shadows come to life. A small smile touched your lips, knowing he was about to play one of his little shadowy games. His ghostly hand wrapped around your throat, fingers trailing against your soft skin.

"Don't worry, there is an illusion over you," his voice said against your ear. "You will appear to be reading."

"And what do I owe the pleasure, husband?" You felt the pain on his form at how you did not hide your irritation, or it was coming from him for another reason. He was not allowing you to see where he was for whatever reason.

“Can a husband not check in on his wife?” You swatted his shadowy hand from touching you. The Black Speech curse that floated across sent a nebulous smile, touching your lips, knowing he was not in the mood to play games. But neither were you.

His hand moved back to your throat, hand tighter as his lips went to your ear. “You would do right to remember who—“

“I tire of these excuses, husband.” You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself in complete control. “I also tire of these lies, " he growled.

“You are such a burdensome woman,” he said as his fingers grabbed your hair, yanking it back. You could see the dark embers of his eyes encased by his shadowy form. “Always speaking of things she knows nothing of.”

“But that’s why you love me,” You reach up to touch his shadowy face. “Without me, your immortality would have been oh so tiresome.” you teased. Your finger ran across where his cheekbone would have been. “But you’re right; I am only some innocent maiden who knows nothing of the plan she helped mold.” Another growl went through his shadowy lips, fingers tugging even more on your hair, pulling a whimper from your lips.

“We both know you are far from innocent, little one.” You had to laugh at that. “For you deceived the Great Deceiver at his own game,” you hum as his hand ran down your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down to your ripened core. You grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“It would do you good to remember that,” you growled. “It would also mind you well to tell me where you are.”

"Sowing seeds,” you rolled your eyes at his even more cryptic answer. "Just as you are, my little temptress," His shadowy lips wrapped around your ear. "Though I warn you if he touches you or your ring again, I will take pleasure in killing him right now.” You whimpered at the thought and bit down on your bottom lip as his hand met your skirt again.

“You spoil me, husband,” his dark chuckle filled your ear. “Do not forget that I can only stall for so long," you bit back at him. “He will keep hammering me about the ring,” he hummed in answer to your statement before the brushes of his tongue ran across the shell of your ear. Your walls and stomach fluttered in anticipation of your reunion once again. He was playing dirty, but whenever did he not?

"I'm aware," he whispered before nipping at your ear. A whimper left your lips in response. Through this whole interaction, you had not as much as glanced at Celebrimbor through the illusion until now.

He was working away, taking a sip of his wine occasionally. Utterly undisturbed by you and your husband’s interaction. “Only if he saw you right now,” your husband breathed against your shoulder. “In all your dark glory, wanton with desire for the very man they fear. Oh, the scandal it should cause.” He kissed your shoulder lightly before moving up your neck and back to your ear. “That innocent elven maiden disguise you have carefully constructed, completely broken against my cock.”

His lips nipped at the sensitive tip while his hand ran back to your stomach, cupping it softly.

"I will it," he breathed.

And like a gust of wind, he was gone. Illusion falling.

The lingering sadness mixed with his words caused another set of tears to fall onto your face.

He willed it.

Sunrises turned into sunsets, and each day felt like an eternity. Since his appearance that night, you had grown longingly for him even more, knowing he was still alive and well, to some extent.

But you had waited centuries with even less uncertainty. It was always a game of patience.

Though you had grown tired of it now.

You tried your best to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of being a healer, such as setting broken bones and healing minor cuts. Sure, your assistants could do such things, but it helped busy your mind and distract you from the aching in your heart as you longed for his touch and his breath on your ear.

It drove you mad when he tortured you in the night, shadows bringing you almost to the brink, only to leave you hanging like he wanted to build up the tension of your separation. You had many a thought to take your ring off so you could stop the torture, but you knew that was not the brightest idea. He would only make it worse for you after he arrived.

You bared it, though.

As you awoke this morning, something in the air told you today would be different. The air was crisper and tasted like the electricity of a storm rolling in. A smile touched your lips as you felt the lingering touch of his caress on your lips. You brought your thumb to meet your bottom lip as he had the night before, tracing across it in sweet memory. Your heart filled with what little warmth you had left in it, only reserved for the dark shadow that filled your dreams and drove you mad with his ghostly touches.

You threw the blankets off your body and got out of bed, feet walking across the stone floor toward your balcony doors, opening them to see the bright morning light into your chambers. Back when you had a semblance of pureness in your heart, you would have probably enjoyed this sight, the singing of the birds flying across the river to the sounds of the city waking up.

But that had long left you.

You found solace in the dark, stormy days and long, cold winter nights. Something about them made you feel like he was there with you after settling into Eregion. The only warmth you sought was his embrace and the dark aura that always seemed to follow him, encasing you and bringing out the life in you. Never light, just life.

He completed you in so many ways, just as you completed him.

Your arms leaned against the railing as you took in a familiar scent, one you had not smelled in many centuries—blue daises. They used to grow around that first city you and your beloved made your home in. The name had long since been forgotten through the ages. But you could always remember that smell.

When you both tried to seek peace and redemption for your dark souls, you settled down into a slower way of life. One where you tried to suppress the darkness and power-hungry souls that lived in you both, hoping it would be enough, wishing that your deeds to help the people would wash your slates clean. When there was still a tiny part of you both that was still pure of heart.

As always, you had taken on a life as a healer, and your husband did what he did best.

Created.

He created beautiful things for you at that time—things you still had tucked away in the soft confines of your jewelry box, even if they did burn when they touched your cold, dark being now. But nothing surpassed the ring you wore on your finger even though it was both your undoing.

His fingers pushed your loose strands behind your ear as you sat on one of the many flower-covered hills surrounding the city that you both had made home. Your cheeks warmed against his gaze. It was not uncommon for you both to find solace away from the city limits, as you both kept to yourselves in hopes that your dark souls would find the space to heal.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked; a smile touched his lips as he looked down at your hand, reaching to take his. “I know he has you busy, as you are so gifted.” Your husband nodded and he began to tell you about his day. You hung on his every word and gesture, getting glimpses of what he would have probably been like before his corruption. The brightness in his eyes, playful and gentle touches that he would give you at times.

You had noticed that darkness falling away in his eyes the more he did good.

The more he healed that dark part of him.

“I do have something for you,” he said, bringing you out of your musings. You raised your brow in suspicion. He moved to cup your chin, pulling your face to meet his briefly as his pillowy lips moved against yours. A giggle escaped your lips as he broke away and laid his forehead on yours. “I promised you that you would never want for anything; if you asked, it would be yours no matter the cost.” Your fingers moved to cup his face and nod.

“I remember,” He released you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful piece of jewelry. Blue stones hung in a setting that looked reminiscent of the blue daisies that surrounded you and grew in front of your home, that you had tended so carefully to over the years. The stones shined in the sun's light and pulled you in more. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Crafted for my beautiful wife,” you turned and lifted your hair so he could lay the necklace on you and clasp it closed. “Forged with silver from Valinor and blue gems of the mountain. All made for the beautiful woman meant to wear it.” He leaned in and kissed your neck as your fingers touched the stones, his fingers skating across your stomach and caressing the white silken fabric you wore.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed as his lips lapped at the skin of your neck and down to your shoulder. “Thank you,” He hummed against your soft skin and continued to nip and suck on the skin he exposed when his fingers pushed down the silken fabric that rested on your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warmth of the sun. “I want to remind you that children come up here, my love.” He did not reply with words but with a grip on your breast before pulling you into him. His other hand traveled down to your core, only to make a symphony leave your lips as he fucked you into a withering mess as he always did.

You both lay bare against the warmth of the swaying grasses and flowers, intertwined still as your post-coitus bliss still hung against you both. He slid one of the blue daisies behind your ear as you kissed him passionately, fingers moving up to cup his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

Hearts and souls as one, once again. Full and warm.

“I have been thinking,” he started as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. The sun had become your greatest friend in your time here, you glowed again and seemed to fill with even more peace than he had ever seen in you.

“That is never a good thing with you,” he glowered down at you as you made the jab. “But go on,”

“I want to forge you a ring,” he breathed. “One that will bind us immortally.” You swallowed hard and moved to place your hand on his cheek, his head leaning into it as his lips kissed your wrist softly.

“We have been here before, love,” you started as he sighed. “Our hearts are still so black that even the slightest taste of power could set us off.” He continued to lay his head in your hand, only now his eyes were looking at yours.

“I know, and we have worked so hard in trying, but–” You cut him off with a passionate kiss.

“No more talk of this,” you breathed against his lips. “We promised to leave it all behind. We have built our own little bits of peace here. They have not noticed or wish to not meddle in our progress.” They, being the Valar, which you both wished to please in this time, hoping they would renounce both your crimes and allow you to live in a world of bliss and longevity together.

Though you felt that lingering wish for power and control deep inside him still. The lingering tendrils of Morgoth’s weavings were still embedded in him, fighting with the pureness that was trying to show itself again. “I know you wish to lavish me something so great, but it would be a creation built in the dark. The magic used would not be of light as we wish but of darkness.”

“Divine,” he breathed, leaning into you again. “Let’s try,”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as that once eerie feeling resurfaced. Telling you the peace here would be limited once again.

Limited it was.

The darkness crept back in.

Slowly at first, only with signs that were noticed by you. His mind elsewhere while yours tried to keep on moving forward. Late nights in the sitting room doing whatever had been consuming his mind, to the irritation he had about his work.

On one occasion, you walked down to see him muttering to himself and scratching away at something. You moved over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder causing him to jump as he had been so consumed by his task. Your eyes swept the page to see designs for a ring. Your ring.

“I thought we were behind this?” You said, trying to take the parchment from him, causing him to rip it from your hands, tearing the parchment in half. His eyes darkened as a growl rumbled in his chest.

“And I thought you trusted me?” You looked at him, bewildered by the boiling temper in his eyes. For the last few centuries, nothing but a lovelorn look had been in his eyes.

“I do, but love, this ring does not prove my love and loyalty to you.” you breathed, holding up your half of the parchment. “It will only drive you down a path I cannot follow.”

“Cannot follow?” He yelled. You flinched and looked down at your feet, hoping not to upset him more. He moved over to you and wrapped his fingers around your throat. “You follow me; remember, I took you from that place and gave you the revenge that you sought. All because I love you.” Tears kissed your cheeks as he tightened his grip, dark eyes blazing.

“I love you too, but they will take you from me if we do this.” You cried. “A separation greater than any we have experienced before. Do you want that for me?” He sighed, loosening his grip on you, and ran his finger across your cheek.

“Then let me just make you this one ring so even if we are ever parted, you will still feel like I am there with you.”

That one choice, one singular choice, had changed your relationship forever. You agreed and he forged the bonding ring and the darkness now awoke in you again after centuries of it being only a quiet hum.

He grew obsessed and consumed by the desire to create more rings to bring order to this world. You watched as he drove himself mad with this all-but-consuming task.

Power over the flesh.

He kept saying. In those times he did not seek your comfort, grew cold and distant towards you. Each time you would walk to that hill and the flowers would wilt and die against your touch until there was none left. A personification of what was to come.

You stopped going until the darkness in your heart returned. Things began crumbling in your lives; he lost his temper more, filled people’s minds with his sickness, and fell so much further into his obsession.

The day everything changed, you watched as he stood in the doorway and told you he was going back to Fordowaith and taking up his place in Morgoth’s wake so he could finish his work. He asked you to come with him, take your place by his side, and be his queen, but you told him no.

You told him that there was no path you would not follow him. Told him that you would continue the plan, but you would do it your way. A way that kept you together.

You left him standing there.

And went on your way.

You stood back up and turned back towards your chambers, the sun becoming too much for you as your mind dove even deeper into the maddening memories. It was too much at times, and you tried not to let it affect you, but it did.

It broke you to part yourself from him, but you knew somewhere in your heart he would find you again. And he had.

As you got ready for the day, your hands skated across the fabric over your stomach. The skin had yet to stretch, but you knew they were nestled deeply in your womb.

The greatest creation he had ever made.

You had known for a bit as the dizzy spells overcame you and heightened smells that sometimes nauseated you. Life grew a little brighter in his absence, but not enough to quench the need to feel him there beside you, sharing in this joy.

After your musings had ended, you got right to work and attend to your duties. You made your rounds and finished just before lunch. You started back to your home when you felt the lingering pull of that dark thread crawling up your spine. You turn and see guards walking up the road with a man on a horse.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him. The coppery strands glistened in the sun as he continued towards the gatehouse. You moved out of the way and watched as his green eyes met yours, a smile touching his lips as your face warmth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bowed your head in response before he passed, and you were only left with the lingering warmth of his shadowy thread wrapping around yours.

You rushed back home, knowing he would probably visit after speaking with Celebrimbor.

But nothing came of it.

And the night rolled in with not much as a word. The claps of thunder and flickers of lightning filled your darkened chambers. With the rain spilling moments later.

And you could not help but add tears to the sound of the pattering rain.

Heart aching at his rejection, yet again.

Slap.

Your hand connected with his face, sending shivers down your spine as his elven head turned in response. Hand shooting to his face as you seethed with anger. Your pulse raced as he looked back up at you, eyes burning with a fire you had never seen in him before. You stare at him with your seething gaze. He was so stunned by your reaction that he moved up to you with a pace unmatched by any mortal being. His fingers gripped in your hair, yanking your head back. Those elven eyes seared into yours as he snarled at you.

You did not flinch or pull away from his grasp. The pain was only temporary, and the satisfaction of seeing the red mark coming up on the pale face caused a smile to touch your lips before you spoke.

"You dare not hurt me, husband," His hand gripped harder, pulling at your roots. You struggled not to whimper at the action like you always did. Your desire to not give into his temptation and prolong this argument until he was buried deep inside you and taking you like the feral animal he could be at times. Though this time, you knew he was deprived and wanting, so this would only make his restraint last so long before he gave in to his desire to control you.

"Do you want to test me?" He growled. "Because I have killed people for less."

"And I've killed people for the fun of it, my lord," your eyes burning now as his grip loosened just a tiny bit. A chuckle left his lips, knowing you were fully capable of wreaking havoc on entire cities and his heart. "You leave without a word and only appear in my chambers again when you see fit. In a whole new disguise, may I add." You spat out at him. "What web are sowing now?"

He released you and moved past you into your chambers, speaking words that were inaudible to you. "I am protecting you," he finally said.

"Protecting me?" you say in disbelief as you move over to your desk where your books and papers are. "That's all I get?"

"The less you know, the more believable you can be." You gripped a book. The anger in your bones at his lack of faith in you had you seething for an even grander fight. You wanted to slap, punch, or kill him for even believing you could not be believable at your own game. You had spent centuries here building relationships and trust that it was laughable for him even to consider himself of more importance than you at this moment.

Your hand gripped the thick leather volume harder before your anger boiled over, and you tossed it at him, but before it could hit him, he pushed it out of the way with his abilities.

"The more believable I can be?" You roared. You grabbed more and continued to throw it at him, anger surging even more. Your pent-up heartache at his mistrust poured into each onslaught. His eyes watched you as he moved out of the way of your blows, books, quills, and jewelry box hitting the wall behind him. The pain in your eyes did not affect his emotionless face in the slightest. "Are you doubting my skills?"

"Are you doubting my judgment?" He roared back at you. "Because as I see it, you questioning me tells me they have gotten into your head." You moved quickly and pushed him over onto your bed, using all the darkness in you to overpower him. He sat up, looking at you with disbelief at your action. You had never dared to touch him in anger in all the centuries. Sure, you had been close before, but this was different. He was questioning your loyalty to him.

"How dare you question my loyalty," Tears touched your cheek. "How dare you threaten me and treat me like one of your little puppets when all I have ever been to you is faithful."

"That's not what you told Celebrimbor," he taunted, trying to sit up, but you moved to straddle his hips, holding him in place before wrapping your fingers around his neck.

"If you believe the words of a lie," You growled at him. "Then surely you've gone mad." You leaned down over him, the other hand pulling up the skirt of your nightgown over your hips while delicate fingers hungrily searched underneath his robes.

“This argument bor—” his train of thought stopped as your hand found what it was searching for. Your eyes watched as his closed against the grip of your hand. Fingers sliding up the length till your thumb traced against the tip, pulling a low hiss from his lips.

“This bores you?” You taunted, pumping lightly against the hardened flesh that filled your grip; his hips arched into your tugs as you rolled yours softly with your motions against him. You finally lean into his ear, motions growing. “If this bores you, then you have gone mad.” The tension lines in his neck tightened as you ran your teeth against them, nipping the pale skin as you went. You were in control for the moment, trying to get him to remember who he belonged to.

Your strokes grew in intensity as you could tell his peak was coming, his deprived state causing his body to fail him. “My sweet,” You breathed into his ear. “My oh so sweet Mairon, in all those centuries apart, you still believe you have control.”

His eyes opened, and he growled as he quickly had you on your back, his painfully hard cock at your entrance. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust into you quickly, pulling a moan from your lips as you closed your eyes. He leaned down to your ear. “Control is only an illusion, wife. I let you believe what you want, but you bow to me, no one else.” You whimpered against the sickly, sweet words. His thrusting grew in intensity as he took pleasure in the way you silenced the control over him, letting him take you as he saw fit.

You were a devious creature that was as slippery as a serpent. But he was only but a mirror of that. He never had to command your mind or inflict his magic on you. You surrendered so willingly, already kissed by the darkness ages before he crossed your path. Desire drove this relationship at times, a sickly sweet desire he had never fully understood until he felt those hips against his fingers, guiding you through the movements. It was maddening as the sounds of your climax repeated over and over throughout that tiny home in that long-forgotten elven city. The night you both had given your souls to each other.

After that, there was nothing he would do for you. He would murder whole cities and move the oceans just to please you. He only wanted to give you everything you desired—jewels, clothes, even a child.

The thrill of the chase, of the fight for dominance, never bored him. Even if he told you otherwise, these ‘arguments’ were sometimes needed to remind you who pulled the strings to your heart and who pulled his. The anger and heartache only fueled your desire to seek control and dominance over him, trying to hold him close to you as if he would sleep away into the abyss again.

You had left before.

And it broke him.

You sought the rational solution to lie in wait. Let them come to you. Build relationships, reputations, and trust in those you wish to subjugate.

Greed had chased you away. He paid dearly for that and spent centuries as a pile of omniscient form of liquid goo. As he regained his mind, he thought of you and how he wanted to find and surrender himself to you—telling you how you had been right. He would never doubt you again.

But you had taken your ring off.

You took the one connecting piece off, and you were nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. He had no idea where you were or if you had perished. He sometimes cursed himself for using the ring to bind your bond. But he never thought you would unbind yourself to him.

So when your mind disappeared again, it weakened his weakened state even more. He needed to feel you, and it angered him that you would even think that was a smart idea, but he had asked for trust in those first years.

And trust was a two-way street.

Your whimpered pleas for more brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at you, all unmade under his fingertips. Hair tousled and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful and ethereal as he drove you mad with lust. Your fingers clawed against the linen of your bed, silver band shining in the moonlight as he tore you down with his thrust. Only to remake you once again.

It was not long before you both reached your respective highs. Climax found you both as calls of your names filled the stone walls, echoing into your hearts. His lips moved with yours as you gripped your fingers in his blonde hair. Delicate fingers took their time to ruin the perfectness of the strands. A memory finds you, causing a giggle to leave your lips. The last time he appeared like this was when he first saw you. Though his hair was much different back then, you felt slight sorrow at the choice of blonde hair.

“Red suits you more,” you breathed against his lips. “This,” your fingers moved over the shell of his ears, running up to the pointed tips, causing him to hum at the stimulating touch. “Is how I remember you each and every time I close my eyes,”

He chuckled. “I can change it,” you shake your head.

“No, my sweet Mairon,” you grabbed his face. “I am selfish and wish to be the only one to gaze upon that form.” He hummed and kissed your lips again briefly. Eyes locked as you both sunk into your post-coitus bliss. When the thought crosses your mind. A smile rose on your lips again. “Lord of Gifts,” you breathed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.” You took his lip between yours and sucked down on it.

“What kind of gift would be greater than gazing upon my wife?” Your face warmed before you ran your fingers across his cheekbones. You felt the tickle of uncertainty touch your heart. It was still so early, and you could be wrong in your assessment. But deep in your heart, you knew that you both had created something in the light of that morning when he had willed it.

“The gift of creation,” A darkness flashed across his eyes as you spoke. That earlier worry filled his cold heart. “The fruits of our union.”

“Divine,” he breathed, but you cut him off.

“You are not happy?” He sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. He smoothed out the strands as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. In truth, he did not know how he felt. All kinds of emotions crossed his mind until he spoke again.

“It will grow on me; I’m concerned.” You nod, and a weak smile fills your lips before moving to sit up. Fingers running through your hair as you struggle with what to say to him. This was not the reaction you had expected at all. In your belief, you thought he had wanted this as much as you did. His change of heart was sincere, but that was not the case.

“You willed it,” You whimpered. He caught your chin, bringing your gaze to his. His gaze was as soft as he could ever get it to be. Tears brimming in your eyes as you both searched for the right words. He knew you were hurt, and you could sense the fear of the unknown on his dark thread.

“Like any father, I’m surprised and shocked that it happened so quickly,” he finally said. You stifled a loud laugh of amazement at his statement, knowing it was probably not the best right now. But to know he was surprised was shocking; you did not even know he could be that.

“I did not know the Dark Lord could be stunned for words.” A thin smile touched his lips, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear.

“There is a first for everything,”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rings of power fic #halbrand #trop fic #annatar x reader #annatar #trop #rings of power #sauron

165 notes · View notes