#halbrand x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

swordgrace · 2 months ago

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❝ 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

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kasagia · 2 months ago

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Skin and bones

Pairing: Halbrand/Annatar/We know who x fem!elf! reader Summary: Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were. Warning: I HAVEN'T WATCHED THE RINGS OF POWER. All my knowledge is based on fanfics, short scenes posted on yt and uncle google. I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind... And I don't regret anything. Inspired by: David Kushner - "Skin and bones" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Y/N…" A cold shiver runs down your spine as you feel HIS hot, quiet, velvety whisper in your ear. You keep your eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see what image your mind, tired from today's meetings, has put before you this time.

For days now, your imagination had been tormenting you with strange dreams. Dreams in which you were haunted by him.

Halbrand.

You avoided speaking his true name. Somehow, the face of the one you should have hated with all your heart did not match the face of the one who had spent so many weeks by your and Galadriel's side.

And it scared you immensely. So much so that you weren't sure you could pretend to the light elf that you were haunted by the shadows of your past.

Galardiel once told you that to know true light, one must touch the darkness. But what do you do when that darkness becomes more attractive than light? What do you do to resist that magnetism? How do you enjoy the glow of pure light on your skin again when you still have spots of darkness on you in the shape of HIS fingerprints?

"Y/N." Another whisper, another brush of warm air against your cool skin, this time on your neck. Goosebumps rise up your spine, your hand shakes uncontrollably, trying to desperatly grasp something you can't see. "Let go. Just let go. I'm waiting here for you. With open arms, mime írima kal (my lovely light)."

The feathery touch of HIS lips against your earlobe sends a shiver through your body. Even though you are in complete darkness, you are perfectly aware that he is near, that his presence is right next to you.

Physically you could be miles away from each other but spiritually... spiritually he has made sure that he will haunt you every night.

"You miss me. You miss the feeling of power I gave you. The darkness you could hide in, when you were too tired of playing the hero no one appreciates as they should. Just as I miss your light. Your laugh. Your mind. Your lips. Your body..." His lips move with each sentence down your cheek and to your neck, leaving a gentle kiss as if he was appreciating your skin and paid tribute to it.

He was right. You missed this. Him. He was addictive. And like any addiction, you should cut yourself off before it goes too far... but hasn't it gone too far already?

"Do you think you can hide from me? That any elven friend of yours could disrupt my vision of you? That I would stop watching you at night in the darkness of your chambers, waiting for the moment when you finally realize that the cold you feel is caused by my lack of physical presence with you? Tell me, my beautiful, stubborn elf, when will you realize that the warmth you long for is found in my darkness and not in the light of your golden sunlight?"

You gasp as HE suddenly grabs you by the neck and uses his fingertips to force you to turn your head towards him. His mouth attacks yours with a huge force of possessiveness, anger, frustration, lust, as if he were going to conquer you by using only his soft lips and a silver-tongue trained over the centuries he spend on seducing others to his will.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the next victim of his games and manipulation.

That's why you let him kiss you. Not because you enjoy it and miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You tangle your hands in his hair, shivering as you feel the cold metal of his spiked crown against the pads of your fingers.

You managed to let his guard down, letting his tongue tangle with yours in a familiar, passionate dance you used to indulge in when you knew him not as a Dark Lord but as a mere blacksmith. An electric jolt runs through you, stealing all the air from your lungs and making your mind cloud with lust—but not strong enough to make you completely forget about your plan.

Before he can realise it, you bite his lower lip and push him away from you. You summon all your power that he hasn't timed in your sleep and push him out of your unconscious mind. You can hear his loud growl of rage and the clang of his metal armour against the rocks as you fall into nothingness.

A loud thud echoes through the room you and Galadriel have rented as you fall from the small bed onto the wooden floor. You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and cursing under your breath as you wake up from yet another dream HE has taken over.

"Another one? Which one is it this week? Third?" You sigh at the question from the elf sitting on the bed across the small tavern room. You nod reluctantly and stand up, dusting off the dust and dirt from the floor.

"I'm not counting. I lost count about a two months ago anyway." You mumble, ignoring the fact that these dreams started much earlier. You turn your back to her, hiding the blush that blooms on your cheeks as you remember how… naughty your dreams were.

Before you realized that your… night visions weren't just yours, you and he… were doing all sorts of things. Most of them weren't really things you could speak about out loud. And as much as you're ashamed of them, you have to admit they were the best nights of sleep you've had since… you found out the truth about him.

"I keep wondering how he creates this connection with you? It's a bridge that shouldn't be created without… the willingness of both sides."

“It’s Sauron.” You reply, making sure to pronounce his name with just the right amount of disgust in your voice. "He has powers that allow him to break the rules. You know that."

"Still… they shouldn't be that strong."

"Are you suggesting something, Galadriel? Do you think I would really seek him out willingly? He has deceived us. He has deceived you and me. He wants to destroy Middle-earth, do you think I would willingly seek contact with him for any other purpose than to finally kill him?"

Your accusatory tone comes out a little stronger than you intended. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a few calming breaths, trying to calm the anger boiling inside you.

"I trust you. If I trust anyone, it's you, Y/N. I'm not your enemy here." She responds calmly and walks over to you. She cups your cheeks in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.

"I am highly aware." You respond and place your hands on the sides of her neck. "I'm just... tired. That's all." You sigh and rest your chin on her shoulder, snuggling into her.

You hold each other like that until she gently pulls away from you. She grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes.

"We all are. War is coming. Darkness is descending upon more of our lands. But together we will prevail. Sun and moon. We must work together if we are about to defeat him and Morgoth." Galadriel spoke, tightening her grip on your hands.

"I know." You mumble and shake your head. You remove your hands from her grip and turn to face the window, watching the sun slowly rise. “Which doesn’t mean he won’t see it coming. Because he will. We have to move faster, think five step ahead than he does if we want the light to break through his army of darkness.” You say not turning to face her since you're too afraid of what she'll find in your eyes. Galadriel sighs but doesn't try to catch your attention anymore.

"I guess we won't get any more sleep tonight. Get ready. I'll go find Erlond." She looks at you a little longer, her gaze burning on your back, but you stubbornly stare out at the valleys lit by the glow of the sun breaking through the morning mist, not yet feeling ready to face what is outside.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. You turn one of the rings forged by HIM, which you have placed on your necklace, in your hands, quietly wondering if you should really do what you were about to do. But since he's decided to play dirty against you for weeks... you might as well start returning his little blows, too.

You close your eyes and place the ring on your finger. You hold your breath as the familiar surge of power makes your blood pump a little harder and your eyes sharpen to your surroundings. The outlines of the valleys in the distance become much clearer, and you can almost smell the forest that lies miles away.

You know he can sense where you are if you let him. So you take a little risk and remove the protective shield that keeps you away from him. And Sauron bursts through your slightly ajar door as if into a rabbit hole.

"If you're out there somewhere… if you can hear me… know that you've given me enough darkness to rip your black heart from your chest without blinking, mime melin cotumo."

Maybe calling him your dear enemy wasn't the best thing to end your threat, but the only thing that could leave your lips when you addressed him were such nicknames. Never the names you knew him by. Especially the name under which he hid when you so naively gave him part of your heart.

"Are you, Y/N?"

His whispered question echoes through the empty room. You immediately throw him out and slam the door on his ghostly presence, blocking his vision of you again. You want to celebrate this small victory over him, showing him that you are still in control, but you both know it's just an illusion. An illusion you're desperately trying to fall for. Unfortunately, you guess you're not as good at them as he is.

"I don't like him." You say to Galadriel, eyeing Annatar carefully.

You held little Celebrían in your arms and watched as Celeborn, Celebrimbor, and Annatar chatted in the distance, enjoying the party Celebrimbor had thrown for your arrival.

"He is… quiet around us. But that doesn't mean we have to be hostile towards him right away. We can't be overly suspicious." Galadriel says and takes her daughter from you, who begins to cry quietly. You sigh, looking at the child in her arms.

"In these times we can be as suspicious as we want, Galadriel. Middle-earth is even more divided; we elves do not have such a solid, strong united front. If Sauron decides to attack with his orcs, they will crush us one by one. We must act, not be stuck in pointless parties."

"Parties are also part of diplomacy. I'm off to melt the hearts of the ladies of other lands with this sweet little bundle. Try not to spit venom at others. We need allies, as you well noticed." And with that, she leaves you to drown your bitter thoughts in a glass of wine completely alone.

You snort, not paying attention to what's going on around you. The ring that hangs around your neck under your clothes burns your skin mercilessly as you try with all your might to push away the memories of the nap you took after arriving.

Warm, black furs clung to you as you slept soundly in your soft bed. In the background, you could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. You were tucked into warm pillows and blankets, the tip of your nose exposed to the cool air outside, being the only thing that was bothering you from resting in your bed.

After a while it turned out that it wasn't just one thing that was supposed to bother you.

You gasp as a strong arm suddenly wraps around your waist. The blankets are lifted, and the cool air assaults your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. A moment later, you feel yourself pressed against someone's bare, muscular chest.

"Is my queen comfortable enough?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and nuzzles your temple, tightening his grip on you as you try to squirm out of his arms. But he doesn't give you that chance.

He grabs both of your wrists and presses them to your chest as he straddles you. Black fur clings to his back, the only covering he's wearing.

"Do you intend to defile me in your dreams when in reality you cannot lay even the smallest fingertip upon me? You grow more pathetic with the passing centuries." You growl at him angrily, kicking beneath him and trying to break free from his grip.

"You will beg for my touch. I will make your cries heard throughout all the Middle-Earth." He murmurs a promise against your lips and leans down, capturing your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss that sets every fiber of your being on fire.

The surroundings around you change rapidly. Suddenly, you are completely alone in a black and gold throne room. The only source of light is the rays reflected off a golden throne engraved with a sun.

You glance around frantically, searching for him and a weapon you could use against him. You take a few steps back, heading unconsciously toward the two thrones on the dais. You gasp as your foot touches the tiled mechanism beneath you.

The throne room begins to change, darkness giving way to light, the black marble turning white. But the entire chamber, instead of being divided in half by two colours, blends into grey. The golden throne turns white, and the black as night one becomes a lighter shade of black, almost greige. You turn your face to the landscape outside the window and gasp at what you see.

All of Middle-earth. Divided, but still... a coherent whole. Each of the lands was arranged so as to separate races that got in each other's way, where conflict could arise. The lands of the Orcs were in a barren wasteland, where life could not have arisen anyway, but they made their kingdom on it. All separated from each other by walls of mountains so high that even from the height where the palace was located, it was difficult to see the top of their mountains and the paths of the passes.

You shiver as the heavy, cool metal of the crown settles against your temples. He quickly grabs your shoulders and digs his fingers into you. He holds you against him, forcing you to stare at the land before you, a land you barely recognise anymore.

"We could have that. All of that. I would place a crown on your head, make them all bow to you. Make them bow to us. I would heal Middle-earth of strife and war, make them all live in harmony in their own worlds."

"Would you confine them within the boundaries of their lands? What if they run out of space? Would you move mountains? Would you remake the world? You won't fix them this way; you can't avoid wars and bloodshed. Who do you think you are to decide how the world is suspposed to look like?" You ask him angrily, turning in his arms.

You bravely hold Halbrand’s watchful gaze as he analyses your words carefully, probably thinking of ways to make you join his side, ways to make you see his case in a completely different light.

And you hope you'll have the self-control to reject every single one of them - every little tempting suggestion of the future he wants to show you.

"Amil! (Mommy!)" The joyful cry of a child and the dull thud of tiny feet hitting the floor later are the only warning you get before something small pounces on your legs.

You stubbornly don't look down, but into the eyes of the man in front of you, because you know that once your eyes land on the little projection of a child he wants to show you, you'll be haunted for the rest of your life by the image of what you could have had with him.

“You won't even look at our son, Y/N?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to show him how much you don’t care or care about the future he has to offer you.

So you gather all the strength you have inside you and lean down to take the little boy into your arms. He mumbles something, playing with the necklace around your neck.

The boy has his dark hair. And your eyes. And he's too damn cute for you to ever forget the vision he shows you, that he created to torture you forever.

"How long would it take you to instill your dark, poisonous thoughts in him?" You ask with a trembling voice, giving him a look full of pain and dismay.

"I've told you many times, mime melin hon. With you by my side I would have no darkness within me." He mumbles and reaches up to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I will make you mine. Even if it was the last thing I would do. With or without your consent, I will bind you to me and make you who you were always meant to be: My queen."

You shiver as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You hold back a broken sob as the weight of the baby on your hip begins to fade and his touch becomes just a hazy memory as you wake from this beautiful and terrifying dream.

“Can you do me the great honour of dancing with you, my lady?” You shiver when you suddenly hear someone's voice next to you. You turn around and barely keep a grimace from forming on your face when the platinum hair of the hated elf catches your eye.

"Lord Annatar. I thought you weren't dancing tonight?" You say in a forced, pleasant tone of voice and nod towards the elf whose invitation to dance he declined. He becomes embarrassed at this and clears his throat awkwardly.

"I simply have been saving my first dance in the hope that my lady of the sun would consent to grace me with it." You present him with your practiced smile, internally cursing him for being so thoughtful with his choice of words. Refusing him would be like spitting in his face - something Galadriel would clearly disapprove of.

"How could I be so cruel in this situation and refuse you, Lord of Gifts?" You tease him flirtatiously, seeing an opportunity in his obvious little affection, and offer him your hand.

You tremble as an electric shiver suddenly runs through you. The strange reaction to his closeness makes your brain buzz with thoughts. Especially when the ring hidden under the material of your dress begins to heat up.

"I may be… but right now I feel like I've received the greatest gift from you, my lady." He says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. He confidently leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and being a little too close than was required for this particular dance.

His closeness overwhelms you. Not in a positive way. He seems suspiciously too familiar. Your body doesn't react to him as to a stranger; on the contrary, you immerse yourself in his touch as if it were familiar, comforting. You sense that something is wrong, but you can't say what yet.

"Do you like the rings we've been forging lately? Galadriel probably won't be too keen on his... idea."

"Because he follows in Sauron's footsteps. Perhaps we can dissuade him from this path. Together." You see his jaw tense slightly at your words. His grip on you tightens a little and he seems... flustered.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, trying to understand his reaction, as well as why with every little touch he makes the ring on your chest burns like it's on fire.

"I truly believe we would be a great unit, úrin-o i world." You tremble when he calls you the sun of the world just as you tremble when he places his hands on your hips and lifts you.

He's in no hurry to put you down. It's as if he was deliberately prolonging this moment, and you let yourself be caught in the hypnotized state that his eyes bring you to.

For a moment, nothing exists except the two of you. It's just you and him. The dancing couples swirling around you momentarily become a blur.

You gasp when, for a moment, instead of Annatar's face, you see Halbrand. His mesmerising blue eyes pierce through you, making it all you can do to lean closer to him.

Your vision ends the moment one of the couples crashes into you. You land awkwardly on Annatar's chest, only his arms keeping you from falling. The couple apologizes and he just nods, pulling the two of you to the sidelines to a more secluded place.

You sigh, staring at him, your breathing heavy, not from the exertion of the dance, but from what you saw when you danced with him. Or rather, who.

"What are you?" You ask suspiciously, but he raises a surprised eyebrow at you, as if your sudden hostility was unfounded.

"You know who I am. Don't you, my Lady of the Sun?" You swallow hard at his question, but before you can answer him, Galadriel steps between you and him. A very angry and irritated Galadriel.

"He is of an unsound mind. How can he ignore what is so obvious? No one who follows the path that Sauron trod can call himself anything but his ally. I am leaving first thing in the morning. We cannot waste time while he is somewhere nearby, preparing an army against us."

"Perhaps you are giving him too much thought, my lady?" Annatar makes a sarcastic remark, but Galadriel ignores him and walks furiously away from the two of you, not even waiting for her husband, who has just reached the three of you.

"Galadriel..." You call out to her but she ignores you. "Galadriel!" Celeborn nods apologetically and follows the elf with the child in his arms. You stand in shock in the middle of the room and stare at the leaving elves.

"I don't blame them. You know what they're talking about... and about who they're talking." Annatar says, nodding at Celebrimbor. He stands alone in the corner, looking around nervously. "It would be best if you followed your lady." He advises you like a nasty snake that coils around your leg and whispers unwanted things in your ear.

You flinch and turn so you can fully look at him. He liked to play games. So he'll get one from you. You won't leave this palace without a promise from Celebrimbor to join you in case... if HE tries to attack.

Galadriel wanted to resort to desperate measures—she wanted to warn Adar that Sauron lived and wanted to use orcs in his plan to change Middle-earth. If you were to choose allies, you would rather heal the mind of an elf in whom you saw even a shred of light.

"I am my own lady. I do not have to follow anyone. Besides, I think you could use some help here, dear Annatar." You reply with a sweet smile. You see his jaw tense a little at your words. He clearly didn't want you around - that's why you had to stay here and see what the Lord of Gifts - the supposed envoy of the Valar was really doing in Eregion.

"Hm... that would be an honour to have you as our guest, my lady."

He says, smiling mysteriously at you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you already know that this won't be as much fun for you as it will be for him.

As if on cue, you drift off into blissful, dark unconsciousness.

"Fighting by your side… I felt like I could hold onto that feeling. Bind it in my very being."

"I felt it to." You mumble, staring at Halbrand's slightly bruised and scratched face.

You often had dreams like that. Flashbacks of past events. Sometimes they were real, and sometimes he was just playing with you in dreamland again, reenacting past events and laughing in your face, mocking you as you relived the same thing.

So I guess nothing has changed… if, knowing who I am, you still kiss me with such burning passion, my sunshine.

Cheap line. You managed to punch him for it many times. But that only seems to make him more cocky. So you stopped and instead looked for some way to get out of these dreams.

But now, as he leaned down and kissed you as sweetly as he had before... you could do nothing but moan and grab his hair in your fist as you pressed yourself against him, hating every bit of armour that covered your bodies and was separating you from him.

"The Valar must have spent aeons crafting those raspberry-sweet lips." He mumbles against your lips and cups your cheek in his hand. He pushes you back gently, your back pressing against the tree trunk you were sitting on.

You pretend you didn't notice that that little comment never came out of his mouth back then, and you take advantage of his moment of distraction. You take out your dagger and press it to his neck, pushing him away from you.

He needs a moment to process what happened. He chuckles raggedly and shakes his head slightly—just enough so that your blade doesn't even scratch his skin.

"What gave me away?"

"Sweet lips?" You mock him, pinning him against the rough tree trunk.

"I tried to be romantic with you, my beloved nemesis. Almost the same as that Lord of Gifts of yours, wasn't it?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The cocky smirk doesn't leave his face even as you straddle him with the blade at his neck. You want to pierce all of his arteries, but his comment about Annatara catches your attention more than the murderous urge he's inspired in you.

"Jealous?"

"Intrigued. Do you like him?" He corrects you and asks a question that makes you want to laugh. As if there was anyone else besides him who could hold your attention for longer…

"Are you afraid that it will take your place as the worst, most venomous snake I have ever encountered?"

"Oh please… we both know that's not the only thing I'm best at. I remember one night perfectly, when…" You press the metal of the blade to his neck and draw blood from him. A black stream runs down his skin, soaking into the tree trunk, which instantly rots. "I understand. You want to be the one to dominate today?"

You snort in frustration at him and push yourself away from him. You take a few steps away from him and watch him closely as he slowly stands up and catches up with you.

"Only if you let me plunge my blade into your black, cold heart."

"Only if you acknowledge the fact that it beats only for you." He whispers and gently cups your cheek with his hand. You tremble, unable to move away from him or make any movement except to stare at him. Anger and something else—a feeling you're terrified to admit to—boil inside you like crazy. And that's all because of him.

"As if you could love anyone but yourself." You answer shakily as he leans toward you. He kisses you again, more gently, more tenderly.

He lifts your chin with two fingers, demanding full access to your mouth, as if the way he kisses you is to prove to you that he is capable of love—that he is capable of giving himself over to a mad passion that he cannot control, as if you were truly his lady.

And it is out of fear that he will manage to squeeze out of you that little challenge that he so desires that you reach for the dagger you had abandoned earlier and brutally plunge it into your heart, bypassing the plates of your armor.

You gasp, tearing yourself out of the dream he has entangled you in, but only to find yourself in a real nightmare.

You look around in panic as you see only orcs above you. The dead body of a dark elf is being torn apart by them, as if they were performing some kind of ritual over the dead. They are talking to each other in the black language, clearly too distracted to pay much attention to you.

You reach out for their abandoned weapon beside you, but you can't move much. You groan as a foot steps on your wrist, hard enough to pin your hand in place but gentle enough not to break or crush your bone.

You lift your head and bite your lip, drawing blood when you see who is standing over you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my sweet nemesis." Annatar says and nods to the two orcs closest to you. They walk over and hold you by the arms, lifting you to your feet.

"Sauron." You snap at him furiously, putting as much venom and hatred as you can into saying his real name.

"Hello, darling. Many years, centuries even, but it still seems like one day, right?" He mockingly responds to your seething fury. You watch him closely and freeze when you see that he holds not only his crown in his hand but Galadriel's ring as well.

He had two of the three forged for the elves. The last one... hung around your neck. And he could have taken it anytime he wanted. But he would have to pry it off your dead body if he really wanted it.

"You were more handsome as a brunette." You spit insults at him, trying to stay as calm as you can as he begins to walk forward. The orcs lead you right next to him.

"I can transform back into Halbrand just for you. Would you prefer that, my lady?" You press your lips together in a thin line, about to answer him, but he's already using his powers, and before you can do anything, Halbrand appears before your eyes.

You turn your gaze away from him and try to focus on the burning desire to draw some blood that the orcs' touch on you inspires as they lead you toward what looks like a camp.

"I'd rather have you rotted in Mordor."

"Ahh… such ugly words on such a joyous day? After all, you don't get married every day, do you?" He asks casually, too excited for your liking; if the orcs weren't forcing you towards the large tent, you would have stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the back of his head in complete shock.

"Married?" You repeat his words stupidly. The orcs hand you to him after you enter the large tent and quickly flee at their lord's beck and call. Halbrand... Sauron sets his crown down at the foot of the makeshift bed and turns to regard you, a huge, cocky grin on his face that you once found sexy. In the current situation, it only irritated you more.

"I promised you I would make you a queen. My queen. I have a crown, an army, and land. The only thing that is missing is you by my side—exactly as the Valar planned." He’s been explaining this to you for the umpteenth time, as if you were a carefree child to whom he had to explain something in a simple, banal way. You clench your fists and take one deep, calming breath.

"I'd rather die."

"No, you don't. Don't blaspheme like that. We both know that's what you want. I'm only doing you a favour by taking away your free will, giving you the illusion that I'm forcing you to do this against your will, so you don't have to feel guilty about acting on your heart's desires." He answers confidently, stubbornly, in a tone you knew—a tone he had used a thousand times when negotiating with kings, queens, and nobles.

Back then, when you thought he was just a man, you were charmed by his chearism, his self-confidence, and his unwavering actions. Now you saw how dangerous that was.

"You don't know my heart's desires." You whisper as he stops in front of you. But he doesn't move to touch you, does nothing but stand there and watch you.

You want to curse him for turning back into Halbrand and for showing you this illusion. It was much easier for you to reject Annatar than him... ironic, since it was Halbrand that betrayed you more than any other being.

"Another lie. I think you've gotten a lot better at it than I have in my absence, my dear sunshine."

You snort when he calls you that. The moment you open your mouth to answer, he leans in and steals your kiss and your breath. He pulls you to him by the material of your dress and perfectly ignores any thumps in your chest you give him. You jerk against his grip, bite his lip, and do everything to pull away from him. But he doesn't let go. Not until you're gasping for air and your lips are swollen, your clothes and hair a mess just like all of you.

"You know... I am not surprised you lied to me all this time. I mean... living for so long can trick your mind. You probably don't know your true self anymore, do you? When was the last time someone called you by your true name? Not with insult or fear, but with affection, maybe even sympathy?"

"Why? Want to change that, I úrin -o mime coiv- (the sun of my life)?" He asks, slowly pulling away from you. You ignore your instincts to follow his touch and stand frozen in place as he walks over to his abandoned crown.

"Are you just going to rule them? In the hopes that they won't kill you again? That I won't convince them to do so?"

"Fear is a powerful ally. And something tells me you'd rather have me alive than dead." He answers calmly and places his crown on your head. You frown as the cool metal settles on your temple.

You let him play with you for a moment and treat you like a doll he can do anything to. You waited for the perfect moment to attack, to throw him off balance. You wouldn't give in to him without a fight. Not when you still had at least a shred of strength to resist the darkness calling out to you.

"Not as powerful ally as love." Your response makes him more thoughtful. He stares at you, contemplating the sight of you in his crown, as if trying to forever engrave the image in his mind… to bind it to his very being.

"Indeed. But you either have one of them." He nods and runs his fingertips over your exposed shoulder. You shiver as he grazes the metal of your necklace.

"And what did you want? From me?" You see him soften noticeably at your question. Something like affection… maybe even tenderness or love appears in his eyes as he moves his hand to your neck, cupping it gently.

"You know my heart's desire, Y/N. Just as I know yours." He mumbles your name barely audible and leans in closer to you. You shiver as his bearded cheek brushes against yours, his soft lips caressing your earlobe as he whispers: "I don't have to say it out loud for you to know it."

"No… you don't have to." You respond and cup his cheek in your hand. He freezes at the sudden display of affection from you and involuntarily buries his face in your palm, closing his eyes. You lean down and press a small kiss to his cheek. He sighs tiredly, as if he had travelled a truly polynomial distance, and allows himself to melt in your touch. "Because I'd rather cut your tongue out than listen to another lie from you."

Before he can react, you're already reaching for his dagger. You press it to his neck, but he shakes off your little seduction and pushes you away from him roughly. You fall with the yak onto the mattress behind you, the crown falling off your head with a clatter to the floor as you stare at him intently, both of you aiming your blades at each other.

"In some races dagger is considered as one of the love's language." She mocks you, wiping the black blood off his neck with her free hand. He licks it off—a demonstration at which you hold your breath for a moment. Bloody bastard.

"I always preferred to consider it death's language." You respond and lunge at him again. He blocks your blade with his own and grabs your arm. You hiss at the hard, painful swipe of his fingers against your skin as he leans toward you, giving you one of his long, enigmatic, dark stares.

"You know what the difference is between me and them, Y/N? They fear you, what you can do, the power you wield with such grace, like it's nothing. But I'm willing to burn in the light of your sun if it means having you by my side."

"Rather, if it means gaining that power for yourself." You growl and kick him. He falls on his back in surprise at your strength, which you take advantage of and run forward—straight to the exit of the tent.

You run through the camp and quickly take the ring from your neck. You put it on your finger and, using the power it gives you, cast illusions on yourself, becoming invisible to the orcs. You hear Halb... Sauron's shouts behind you, ordering the orcs to find you and bring you alive to him. He himself gives chase through the forest. And you have to admit that he is not so far from you.

You run as long as your legs give you strength. You stop in some clearing with a small stream. You try to find a safe hiding place, hide, and wait out the mad pursuit. And just when you think you've made it, he emerges from behind the trees.

"Y/N! I know you are here! I can feel you! I will always..." He pauses, his voice shaking, and you realise this is the second time you've seen him so... vulnerable and open. It's a dangerous reaction from him. Either it's real... or he's using it as a card in his game to win yet another game he's playing with you. "I would make you a queen. In a heartbeat. You don't have to do anything. Just come with me."

And you really wish it were that simple. But you don't know if you could look at yourself in the mirror if you just so blatantly betrayed them and everything you know for… him and his lies. As beautiful and tempting as they were.

"Queen of slaves like you!" You scream, comming out from your hidding place and attack him.

"Yes! I am a slave! I am a slave to you, Y/N. At least I have the courage to admit it to myself and to you. And you, my queen?" He says each sentence every time your blades strike each other with a metallic clang.

"Don't forget about Mogoth, my king." You mock him and hit him more and more aggressively, each of your blows a precise attack on him.

"You're going to bind to me. Willingly or not, and I will relish every moment of it." He growls and finally knocks the blade out of your hand, and he grabs your wrists, twisting your arms behind you and pressing your back against his chest, the blade at your neck gently teasing your skin, as do his lips against your temple. "Let go. Just let go. I know you are tired. Let me help you. Let me carry for you all your worries and the hatred of the Middle-earth. Let me make you my queen. Heal this world with me."

"Only if you will made ma a crown from your skin and bones." You gasp, fighting his grip, trying to twist from the iron grip his arms have on you, but it's not as easy as it might seem. He pins you to the ground, straddling you, and stares at you, breathing heavily.

"I will wrap you in them, if that's what I need to keep you at my side!"

His cry echoes through the empty clearing. For a moment, you stare at each other, not making a move. The sound of the stream around you is the only other song playing in accompaniment to your heavy heartbeat, which you can hear in the deafening emptiness that surrounds you. The world stops. Again, when you're close to him.

"I did not desire power as much as I desire you. You hurt me more than Morgoth ever did; you poison me more than the darkness. I think of you every morning, afternoon, and night. You are like a poison that I cannot draw from myself. You are the light that blinds me, that destroys me, but I cling to it like a child in the dark. Even though the darkness has been a much longer and more loyal companion to me than you." He mumbles, pressing wild kisses to your face.

You moan as his lips and rough beard abuse your neck worse than the blade he had brought to you moments ago, which he had driven into the ground beside you. You had nothing. No weapon to attack him with, to protect yourself from his sweet lips and the burning touch that stirred desires so shameful and so familiar in you.

"A pathological liar." You gasp as he hastily undoes your dress. But you do nothing to stop him. You can't anymore.

You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the running away from him, all the fighting with him. Maybe you really were a lost cause; maybe you were always meant to blend with his darkness and try to balance it with your light. You don't know that. What you do know is that he feels too good against you for you to fight him any longer.

"Both of us. But I'm the only one here who doesn't deceive myself."

"I'd rather deceive myself than allow myself to think that I could desire someone like you." And it's awful that as you say that, you reach for him and help to undress him.

You were only proving that you really were a terrible liar and hypocrite. But how long could you hold back from touching the darkness that called out to you so sweetly?

"We both know this is much more than simple lust." He whispers, stroking your hair tenderly and pressing his lips to your forehead. His hands roam your exposed body, caressing every little part of you. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can forget for a moment who he really is—you can only see Halbrand and not HIM. "Tell me… what's it like to want to simultaneously pierce me with a sword, burn me at the stake, and cherish me in the privacy of your chambers, my dear sun?"

"Maddening." You whisper shakily, admitting what you feel.

A single tear rolls down your cheek—a tear that he quickly licks from you. He groans at the sweet-salty feeling of your tears and holds you tightly with his one arm as the other slowly begins to toy with your most sensitive place, preparing you for complete failure and defeat.

All you can feel is blissful pleasure as the darkness is touching you.

And just when he is about to bring you great pleasure, when he is about to unite the two of you as one after so long, he stops completely. You fidget, toss, and turn, seeking renewed contact with him that he does not grant you.

"I'll come for you. In one form or another. I'll make you my queen, whether you want me to or not. I may be a fraud, Y/N, but I don't have the strength to deceive myself. You'll understand when you will be my age. And I'll wait for that. I will wait for you to realise that I am the only one who sees you, accepts you, and adores you as you truly are. All you have to do is call for me." You almost cry in frustration as he pulls away from you, leaving only a ghostly touch on your skin as he continues to hold your wrists. "The sun is also having an eclipse, Y/N. I am your eclipse. And you will beg me to give you my darkness."

He places one last kiss on your forehead and then disappears. You sigh, looking around you, and realise with a shiver that he was never really there.

He tricked you. He connected with you through the ring you still wore on your finger and entered your mind as another illusion. You cry, your hand shakily pressed to your mouth as you try to keep from making any sound for fear that he and the orcs might still be nearby and sense you.

You bite your fingers as a pitiful cry wants to escape your lips; it starts as your mouth forms a cry of his name, but at the last moment you stop yourself. You grit your teeth and stand up from the ground. You dust off your dress and look around you.

The rising sun illuminates your face, but you no longer feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as you greet the morning light. You feel emptyness. A festering, burning emptiness. And the visible touch of HIS lips on your neck...

Sauron may have defeated you in your dreams and mind, but when it came to duels, when you faced each other in your own skin and bones, he lost. In the crucial moments, when he was about to make you his, you managed to slip away from him. You only fear how long you will be able to do so.

Especially since he has robbed you of all joy in the light and awakened a lust for the darkness you have touched with him...

And as you stared at the rising sun, you already knew that there would be no salvation for you, nothing that would make you forget about the electric thrill you felt every time you embraced the darkness with him.

Halbrand, Sauron, Annatar, whatever form he took, you were drawn to him. And you could either die, try to fight it, or accept it and try to save the little bit of light that was left in both of you. You didn't believe that after all the darkness he'd poured into you, he wouldn't get an ounce of your light from you in exchange. And if that tormented him as much as his darkness tormented you... then you felt at least a little less pathetic for falling in love with the Dark Lord of the Rings.

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wordbunch · 3 months ago

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their love language [the rings of power]

a/n: i had this little idea that I wanted to share w you all 🥰💛 i included the characters that i like best, so sorry if your fav isnt there. also I am a halbrand girlie so I wrote for that "version" of him. be so kind to comment/reblog your thoughts! ♡

Elrond ♡ quality time and physical touch and words of affirmation everything

Is he not just perfect? His kind heart cannot choose just one way to shower you with love, so it varies by the day. Elrond’s words are always carefully chosen to lift you up or comfort you, and the feeling of his lips or skin on yours is like a dream after a long day. Initially he was a bit more closed off, but you created a safe space together for both of you to be vulnerable and loving. Sadly, he can be quite occupied with various duties, so he cherishes any second he gets to spend in your presence. You have reached the point where you can communicate almost only through eye contact in public; his eyes are so shiny and expressive, and even the way he gazes at you tells you everything you need to know.

Galadriel ♡ acts of service and physical touch

There is nothing in this, or any other, world that she wouldn’t do for you! The downside of that is she can feel quite guilty if she feels as though she failed at something, but that is alright - you are there, always, to break the fall! She also very much receives love in this way so make sure you do lovely things for her as often as possible - our girl needs some soft wholesome love. Physical touch is something that keeps her grounded and reassures her you are really there and with her, it is not just an illusion or a dream. In private, Galadriel will cling to you like you’d just saved her from drowning. Reassurance is something she needs more than she will let on.

Halbrand ♡ words of manipulation affirmation and physical touch

He has a strange way of somehow knowing exactly what to say, almost at all times; the way he sweet talks you is unmatched, and he is no stranger to strings of compliments. Occasional banter is involved as well, of course, as he very much enjoys verbally “sparring” with you - it gets him going and gives a spark to his eyes. This leads to more physical expressions of desire, and you are basically the only person he enjoys being more tactile with. The way he shifts between being rough and passionate, and then gentle and adoring, keeps you on your toes constantly. However, two can play that game - has he at last met a worthy match?

Celebrimbor ♡ quality time and gift giving

This is one very busy elven lord and smith, but he will still try his best to never neglect you and your needs. Even if he is working, he loves to have you around, if you are free; and you enjoy watching him doing his thing. He calls you “his greatest inspiration” and swears you bring out the best of him, both professionally and personally. Although, he might occasionally get distracted when he feels your keen eyes on him. Naturally, since you inspire him to create, he loves to gift you items made personally for you, with utmost precision, skill and love. He also claims that no piece of jewelry, decor or weapon could ever match your beauty, but that is another challenge that motivates him even more. Sometimes, though, you have to drag him away from his work and just make him take it easy.

Isildur ♡ physical touch and being silly

This chaotic boy needs to have a hand(s) on you at all times, or the other way round. If you move away from him, there is a high chance he will look at you like a lost puppy. He might not yet be the greatest when it comes to verbalizing what you mean to him, but that’s not to say he can’t express it in a variety of ways - pulling you close in a crowded space, hugging you as if you might evaporate if he doesn’t hold onto you, kissing you breathless every chance he gets. However, playful banter with you makes him so happy as well, and it is his way of showing not only that you understand each other, but also that you can be perfectly comfortable in each other’s presence and laugh until tears stream down your face. Oftentimes those unguarded moments of silliness can become deep conversations which allow you to get to know each other even more intimately.

Arondir ♡ acts of service and words of affirmation

I mean, have you seen what this elf does for people he deeply cares for? Expect even more than that when he is in love with you! No task is too daunting when his beloved needs something, and you don’t even need to ask - he is superb at anticipating your needs. Sometimes you need to all but force him gently to relax and prioritize himself a bit more. Arondir is just a romantic soul like that. Also, in standard elvish fashion, he knows many poems and songs, and he is no stranger to coming up with his own just to express how he feels about you and how he sees you as the most precious, wonderful person. Initially he was a bit shy about that particularly, but experiencing your joy and enthusiasm, and the way you simply melt at his words, he knew he had to make it a regular occurrence to express his adoration. Please treasure him, he deserves the world.

🍁🍁🍁🍁

Tagging some trop besties @queenmeriadoc @lady-of-imladris @starladyy @fenharel-enaste @thesolarangel

@haladriel @nanawaffles @xwakemeupwhenseptemberendsx @elswing @coraleethroughthelookingglass

#from my pocketses #the rings of power #trop #rings of power #rop #trop fanfiction #rop fanfiction #elrond x reader #halbrand x reader #galadriel x reader #isildur x reader #celebrimbor x reader #arondir x reader #trop x reader #rop x reader #sauron x reader #rings of power x reader

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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 3 months ago

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Remade (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

Warnings: I somehow managed to write fluff with goo!Sauron, I guess? You hold and kiss goo!Sauron. You suffer a minor injury by goo!Sauron. You get animals and one person killed to feed goo!Sauron. Heavy make out and implied smut (with non-goo!Sauron). Can you tell I love writing the words ‘goo!Sauron’?

Note: Yet another Sauron x evil!reader fic cause I can’t stop apparently. Can be read as a prequel to the others or as a stand alone.

“Oh, my love,” you breathe out, “what have they done to you?”

What have they done indeed. For you are speaking with the one that is your love, your husband, your very soul—but if he hears, or even understands, he cannot show it. What’s left of him has no mouth no speak, no arms to wrap around you at long last, after an eternity of separation. What your tearful eyes are looking at is a black, amorphous mass, no larger than the heart hammering within your chest, writhing helplessly on the ground.

But it is him. Of that, you are certain.

When you felt his presence again, it was so faint you thought you were dreaming it. Nothing but a glimmer of darkness in the back of your mind, weakly calling out in agony. But as you searched your feelings, reaching out with every sliver of power you could muster, you found that it was real.

You found him.

Long had you travelled since, guided by the unseen thread connecting you to him. Until at last, it had led you into the heart of a mountain where his presence was so strong, it felt as though his skin was beneath your fingertips.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until a sharp squeal had caught your ear, and you had found the source of it to be a rat being devoured into the blackness of a small, but lethal predator. At once, you had understood, and nearly fallen into despair. But in the end, you reminded yourself—he has endured. You have been reunited. That is all that matters.

Slowly, you kneel at his side. The mass ripples like the surface of water under a light breeze, and it gives you hope that, somehow, your presence is known to him. A sole rivulet of him begins to slip towards you, painfully slow. No wonder he has been in this state for so long, helpless to nourish himself lest some unfortunate creature stumbles upon him in the dark.

“I am here,” you whisper as you reach out. “I am—”

The moment your fingertips touch his cold, viscous form, black tendrils of him latch onto your hand, greedily clawing at your wrist. You gasp at the unexpected force of it, the searing sting where the liquid-like matter solidifies to dig sharp needles into your skin. Beads of your blood emerge, and he swallows them into himself with hunger.

You stare in awe as he grows ever so slightly larger. A twisted part of you is elated to be the object of his craving once more, even if he is trying to devour you whole. Especially then.

Unfortunately, that would not do in the long-term.

You shush him gently, caressing him with your free hand as though he were a purring kitten. Instantly, a tendril of him latches to one of your fingers, but you give him a firm squeeze.

“Shh!” you say sharply, fingers sinking into the soft surface of him as you reach out with your mind as well, nudging at his. “Easy, love,” you coo. “Easy. You know this hand. You know me.”

His mind is a mess—mad with hunger, alight with rage, lost to despair. But you keep caressing it with yours, tenderly bringing to the surface his memories of you. His love. His wife.

His grip on you weakens then. He deflates, withdrawing himself from your wounds, and you are left with a soft, pliant mass, which you delicately scoop into the palm of your hands. He rocks slightly against your skin, almost as if caressing it—and through your bond, the ghost of his regret reaches out to you.

“Do not fret, my love,” you murmur, smiling gently. “All will be well now.”

And so you go to dwell in the forest. At first, you bring him small things, no larger than he is himself—insects and rats, the occasional snake. The venomous ones seem to be quite nourishing, aiding in his growth more visibly than the other animals you feed him. Still, the progress is slow, and could not be endured without a great deal of patience and love. Fortunately, you lack neither.

Days turn to weeks, perhaps months. You don’t keep count, nor do you miss the comforts of the Elven realm where you had dwelt for years, waiting on the day your husband might return. A tent and your skills are more than enough when you finally have your love by your side, even if he is... temporarily different. You always keep him close, cradling him protectively at night and speaking loving words to him throughout the day. And in his own way, with ripples of his form and distant echoes of his slowly recovering mind, he holds onto you.

Eventually, he grows large enough for you to embrace at night, and develops a certain manner of breathing that feels as though you’re resting your head upon his chest. Its rise and fall is odd, ragged and irregular, but it brings you great joy nonetheless. With time, you bring him larger game, watching with grim amazement as deers and wild boars are slowly devoured into the beloved black mass that still is your husband. After a time, he grows nearly limb-like extensions, allowing him to more easily crawl around or reach out, and you often wake to find yourself in the closest thing to an embrace he can manage in this state. It never fails to make your heart soar, and he shudders as you press loving kisses to the parts of his surface closest to you.

So the days pass, until it’s time. Between your own instinct and the shape of his thoughts, not quite spoken but slightly more focused through your bond, you know he’s strong enough to finally regain himself completely.

But for that, he will need something more than an animal.

It’s easy enough to stop the first wagon you see passing by, acting confused and lost and asking for direction. The woman at the reins, though half-drunk, is even gracious enough to offer that she give you a ride to the closest village. You decline, of course. Your purpose was never to climb into the wagon yourself.

It was to halt it long enough for your husband to slither inside from the back.

It’s barely a few seconds after the woman has bid you a good journey and gone on her way that the wagon halts yet again—this time, with a piercing scream from its occupant. The wagon shakes, its horse breaking loose and galloping away.

Then, silence settles. From your angle, you can’t see inside. Your feet are glued in place, your breath barely there as you watch and wait. You’ve been waiting so long that now, so close to the end of your suffering, each moment feels neverending.

Finally—finally—a man emerges from the back of the wagon. He takes his time putting one bare foot, then the other, down onto the snow-covered ground. He takes in his surroundings, as though opening his eyes to the world for the first time. Then his gaze lands on you, and his lips curl into a smile filled with relief.

And you know, you’ve always known, but it feels as though you only then realize that this is not a man. Or an Elf, or a Dwarf, or any other being of less than godly nature. It is him. Remade into a form with eyes, and hands, and flesh, same as your own.

Your feet carry you towards him blindly as you stare and stare, almost unable to believe that you are finally standing close enough to touch once more.

“I would not blame you,” he says, his unfamiliar voice rough from lack of use, “if it was you who failed to recognize me now.”

But you know it’s absurd. His appearance may not be as it used to—his hair is shorter, darker, his cheeks covered in stubble, his features nothing like the ones you knew—but there is no form he could take you would not recognize, not as long as your mind still served you. His had been broken, unamde, when he had begun to feed on you as he would any other stranger. None of that matters now.

“This is... different,” you murmur, greedily taking in every inch of him that isn’t covered by the rags he’s wearing. His chest is partially bared to your eyes, and both of your breaths shudder as you lay your hand over his new heart, the smattering of hair there delightfully rough beneath your fingertips. You gaze there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight, then lift your eyes to meet his. The curls that fall in his face are so endearing your chest aches as you brush one aside.

“I love it,” you breathe out. “I love you.”

A dam that had been built over years of longing shatters at your words, and your lips meet his furiously in a long-awaited kiss. His looks may have changed, but his taste is the same, and so is the desire that overwhelms you to the point of insanity. You’re falling into each other, clawing at each other, crumbling to the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs. The snow is cold against your back, but your husband is warm and solid above you, and your world becomes reduced to him and him alone.

You whimper when he suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gazes down at you with raw yearning.

“You came for me,” he says, breathless with elation.

“Of course I did,” you retort, nearly indignated. As if you would do anything but. He goes to kiss you again, but you wrap a hand around his throat and hold him back. Mischief dances in your eyes as he glares and you scold, “And in return, you nearly ate me.”

His eyes darken, and you almost moan at the sight alone.

“I still wish to,” he growls, prying your hand away from his neck and diving in to devour yours instead. “All those years I hungered...” he speaks between ravenous licks and bites of your skin, making you writhe and whimper beneath him, “to feel you once more... even when I could no longer remember... what it was I hungered for...” He lifts his head, wild eyes boring into yours as he lays his hand upon your chest, relishing your heartbeat as you had done his before. “My love,” he pleads, voice trembling with need, “join me in flesh. Let me feast upon yours. Devour mine. Remind me what it is... to feel.”

The last time you felt such unbridled joy was so long ago, you can’t even remember it. And either way, you doubt it held a candle to the bliss bursting within your soul in this moment. This is all you ever wanted. This makes every single moment of torment, past or future, worth it.

“Feel me, love,” you offer most sweetly, your lips brushing his with the last words you speak before you consume each other whole, “Feel everything.”

Next fic with same reader -> Tides of fate

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 4 months ago

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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

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notreallythatlost · 2 months ago

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I BLEED THE SAME

�� annatar/sauron x female!elf!reader

PART ONE

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, angst, unprotected sex, p in v, slight biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 notreallythatlost

#halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rop x reader #annatar smut

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dinsbeskar · 2 months 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!!

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bamsywrites · 2 months ago

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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.

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sansaorgana · 2 months ago

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— 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

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poetryvampire · 1 month ago

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✨️trop men and if they could get you off based mostly on vibes ✨️

💕Now to level the playing field let's give a simple y/n on if they could get the job done during your first time together and the overall mood of the evening. Mildly nsfw (I'm not gonna get too detailed...unless 👀)

Adar💀 Yes. Woof, not to get too crass right off the bat but daddy is the name he earned so yes absolutely. Also brace yourself it will be kinkier than you think and it will awaken something in you. And it would start off painfully slow just easing you into it lightly. Seems like a great opportunity to try things you've been curious about but beware you're getting into like five kinks that haven't even crossed you mind before. One minute you're having a romantic candle lit dinner then Bam youre wearing a chain collar with his name on it.

Elrond 😇 Oh, god bless. No. Baby I'm sorry but no. That being said it would still be a great time with really positive vibes. But Elrond would get too in his own head thinking about options and the best 'plan of attack' to actually deliver. Plus he would play it super safe not wanting to off put you in anyway and thus would kill the passion a bit. Still would be the biggest sweetheart and over all give you a fun time. (Give him time to build his confidence though lotr Elrond Fucks for sure)

Halbrand 🐶 LISTEN Listen listen...No. Hear me out. I just-I feel it in my blood that this guy will rizz you so hard and talk such a big game and than when he time comes it's just ok at best. Like he's made at least one person come before and thinks he has cracked the code. Still his heart's (seemingly) in the right place and its pretty romantic over all. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Annatar 🐱 Yes. And it's amazing but the vibes are terrible. He gets way too intense too fast. He's the kind of guy to say some really weird shit during. Like not even anything dirty just waxing poetic about how you're part of each now and the bond of your bodies is inescapable even in death. And he waaay into talking about how you belong to him now and you're just like?? Is he just talking crazy in the heat of the moment or ?? Also no aftercare and he's 100% gone when you wake up.

Arondir 🏹 Yes. And it's Good but not as romantic as you were hoping. He's into you but Arondir def doesn't realize what a catch he is and is surprised that you're so here for him. Also buddy's got a lot going on so he's still gonna be pretty guarded emotionally. Still he's extremely respectful and such a good kisser like he's got your head spinning and you've barely started.

Elendil 🗡 No. But he tries hard and it's a great time. He's kinda got that big puppy Halbrand thing going on but like genuine. Def more into you than you are him. Elendil will rizz you with care. Pays very close attention to what you like/want. Even if it doesnt happen he's fine with talking about it, even makes a few light jokes at his expense. He's terribly good at putting you at ease. By the end of the night you're more smitten than you first thought.

Celebrimbor 💍 Yes. Are you kidding me?We're talking mastery, we're talking attentiveness, we're talking about a very smitten old man that's going to court you with his whole heart. The vibes are impeccable and he's going to make it known that taking care of you is his top priority. Additionally I can't explain why but you know this man's head game is god tier.

Gil Galad 🏵 Yes. Don't even get me started on how this man is gonna rock your world. The high king is a big guy so it's go big or go home when it comes to love and affection. He doesn't allow himself to pursue romance often but when he does he goes hard. In terms of the act itself and the amount of extravagance and detail he'd put into wooing you. Plus cmon you know he's stressed and pent up as hell. Brace yourself for being be absolutely worshipped All night. You're in for a wicked case of jelly legs and you're not going anywhere.

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dracowars · 1 month ago

Text

of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

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

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

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

universe: the rings of power

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

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

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

"Sister-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scares you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't allow that."

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

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

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

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

"Lord Halb-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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little-diable · 2 months ago

Text

Bound in Eternity - Halbrand/Sauron (smut)

This obsession isn't fading, but I ain't sorry, y'all will have to endure this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Once wed, once forced apart by Adar's betrayal, and now their paths cross again - all while he is fighting side by side with an elf that looks at him as if they are soulbound.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, public, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, some degrading

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x fem!reader (2.3k words)

At first it felt as if she was dreaming. A restless dream that would haunt her for centuries to come. A darkening dream that would force her to doubt everything she had clung to ever since their paths had been forced to part. Centuries that have turned into a cloud of confusing smoke, too thick for her to see through it.

But the tip of the sword felt too cold, too sharp to be a mere imagination of her racing mind. This wasn’t a dream, this was all but a dream, reality had caught up with her, drawing her towards the battle where she could feel him close.

Him. The one she had been bound to ever since she could remember. Him. The one who had always held her heart in his hands, careful not to crush it even as darkness had begun to poison every vein, every inch of his frame. Him. The one she had longed to feel close again ever since Adar’s betrayal.

Hope was flickering in her eyes, she had changed her frame just like he had, finding a new body to house her soul for the time being. A frame he seemed to find himself confused by, not reacting to the way her soul tried to reach for his, desperate to let their powers intertwine once again. But something seemed to hold him back, something that left a bitter aftertaste on (y/n)’s tongue while studying the unreadable expression tugging on his new handsome features.

“Who is she to you?” His eyes flickered from hers to Adar’s, the one she didn’t dare to look at, knowing that she’d fight against every sword for the mere chance to kill him. She’d burn Middle Earth to the ground for a chance to pierce her sword through his skin, robbing him of his life just like he had tried to rob the life of her lover.

“I don’t know her.” She couldn’t stop a huff from leaving her, forcing her lover’s eyes back to her. (Y/n) was close to murmuring his name, but the presence of the elf held her back, the golden haired warrior who looked at her lover with something making (y/n)’s insides churn in disgust and jealousy. The elf spoke something to him, but she couldn’t listen, not when she tried to make herself familiar with his new appearance, the slightly unruly look that seemed to perfectly fit him.

His eyes found hers again as he sheathed his sword before reaching for her arm to pull her to her feet. A fire spread through her the second he touched her, something he must have felt too judging by the momentary recognition flushing through his eyes. They kept holding eye contact as the elf reached for Adar, binding his arms to drag him with her. A soft smile managed to break out on (y/n)’s lips, she fought against the need to reach for his bearded cheek, to let her skin meet his again like it had last done on that forsaken morning before he had been ripped from her side.

For a second, a darkening grin widened on his lips, a grin that made her breath hitch in her chest. He tightened his grip on her while moving towards his horse, wordlessly helping her into the saddle before placing himself behind her. His arm found its way around her waist, pushing her back against his armoured chest before dipping his head down to let his breath fan over (y/n)’s neck, “I feared you may have forgotten about me, sweetling, but I should have known that our bond will survive even the furthest distances.”

Goosebumps rose on her skin, perfectly matching the heat spreading through her body. She couldn’t reply, not when the elf looked back at them for a moment before leading them down the forest path, but the way she squeezed his hand seemed to be enough for him for now.

…

“Halbrand, what a strange name to choose.”

Her voice had a teasing touch to it, drawing him closer as they stood near the shed the elf had dragged Adar into seconds ago. His eyes burned holes into her skin, leaving a fiery trail as he cupped her cheek, letting his calloused thumb stroke her skin.

“And what should I call you now, sweetling?” His voice dropped lower with every spoken syllable, undoubtedly feeling the same pull in his chest. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers, but something seemed to hold him back, something having to do with that elf (y/n) struggled to look at for longer than a handful of seconds.

“I haven’t chosen a different name yet, Mairon.” The growl leaving him drew a whine out of (y/n), she needed to feel him closer, desperate to taste him again just like she had longed for all those centuries.

“The elf, Galadriel, is a worthy asset in our game, I fear you need to put your trust in me once more.” Confusion pushed through (y/n), forcing her eyebrows to furrow while looking up at him. He let go of her before another word could leave her, forced to look at Galadriel reemerging from the shed.

He left her side to speak to the elf, murmuring words (y/n) couldn’t understand. Anger began to simmer inside of her, anger directed at her lover who hadn’t even kissed her yet after all those years apart, at the elf who seemed to pull him into her trap all too easily, at herself for falling for his game yet again. But no matter how much she wanted to rip herself free, she couldn’t leave his side again - not after only being reunited moments ago.

“Speak, what’s your name?” Galadriel had her eyes directed on (y/n), waiting for her to find her words again as she fought against the lump in her throat. For a second, she let her gaze find his, hoping to find something swimming in his pupils to direct her path, but he didn’t give her anything. Nothing but the grin she had once found herself obsessing over.

“(Y/n),” it was a simple reply, a reply that left him tensing while the elf only nodded her head. It had been centuries since he had last heard her name being spoken out loud - only he had allowed himself to call it out loud when lust overcame him, the simple pleasure mankind seemed to ache for as if it was the air they needed to breathe. But his longings for her had always been stronger than his arrogance, allowing him to let go of any darkening thoughts while fucking his hand to the thought of her.

“Do you know how to wield a sword?” Galadriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers once, a gaze filled with uncertainties and confusions. (Y/n) only nodded her head as she could watch a smirk widen on her lover's lips. Perhaps her return had been just what he needed, another asset in fooling the elf who looked at him as if he had placed every single star on the night sky himself.

“Good, you’ll come with us.” Wordlessly the elf turned away from them, not picking up on the sight of Halbrand and (y/n) grinning at one another with darkness swimming in their pupils. A darkness that forced lust through their veins, a longing both seemed to share as he positioned himself behind her on the saddle once more.

For a second, time seemed to stand still as he whispered to her in the language others feared, the black speech both had shared all those centuries ago. His longing for her was clear, as was hers while she pressed herself back against his chest, unable to bite down a soft whimper as his words kept teasing her. Her whimper turned into a gasp as he suddenly led the horse into a different direction, away from Galadriel who seemed to be oblivious to what was happening.

Trees blurred past them, putting more and more distance between them and the elf. And then the horse came to a sudden halt, almost throwing her off the saddle had it not been for the strong arm he’d wrapped around her waist. Wordlessly he helped her back down, feet meeting the ground before she found herself pressed against the nearest tree.

And then their lips met, finally, after all those years apart. He still tasted the same, of loving and a home others would curse but she had always been aching for. The kiss wasn’t soft nor was it sweet, their teeth clashed, their tongues got tangled while his impatient hands toyed with the lacing of her trousers. Heavy pants left them both, urged on by their longings and the need to unite their bodies once more.

“Tell me, did you let another touch you?” Anger simmered inside of her, a sensation so strong, it allowed her to switch places with him, pushing her lover against the tree while her hands worked on his armour to free his aching cock. He stared down at her, hairs falling into his forehead, eyes growing darker with lust.

“Do you think so little of me, Mairon? I’ve endured centuries without a single touch while all I could long for was your closeness.” A satisfied hum left her lover, eyes momentarily fluttering close as he felt her hands wrapped around him, touching him just like he had touched himself days ago to the thought of her. He felt heavy in her hand, leaving her walls clenching around nothing at the thought of him “But what about you? Did your game ask you to bed the elf? She looks at you as if you’re soulbound.”

A raspy chuckle left him, a sound that only agitated her further. His cold hand found (y/n)’s warm cheek, forcing her to keep looking at him even as he pushed her hand away. Wordlessly he turned them around again, with his hand finding its rest on her throat he kept her held in place, “Perhaps I have, perhaps I’ve fucked her to blindside her, you always knew of the sacrifices we had to make.”

She knew that he was lying, set on pushing her further into her anger to heighten her senses, and yet she couldn’t stop the curses rolling off her tongue, words in the black speech he cut off with his hand adding more pressure to her throat. Her eyes grew wider as she felt his cock near her entrance, coating himself in her slick before he finally pushed into her.

The second he pushed into her she could have sworn she felt the ground shaking, an eruption so strong it buzzed through her body. But the smirk lingering on her lover’s lips was enough to keep her focused on him.

He fucked (y/n) against the tree, hard, fast, set on leaving bruises to make up for all those lost centuries. Barely any air managed to flood through her lungs, just enough to leave her trembling against him while choking on his name, “I’ve almost forgotten how being buried inside of you feels like, no matter which form we take on, we’re always made to fit, sweetling.”

The words were unusually soft, leaving her brows to furrow while she felt the air around them growing heavier. Something was happening in the Southlands, but she didn’t dare give in to any distraction while her lover finally fucked her again, “You’re taking me so well, fuck, I should have known that all those years wouldn’t change your hunger for me, you’ll always be a cock hungry whore for me.”

“Fuck you,” she spat the words against his lips, a mere whisper and yet just enough to make him raise his brows in mock surprise. His thrusts grew rougher, drawing whines out of her as she felt her orgasm creeping closer and closer. He dipped his head down to kiss her throat, letting his beard scratch her skin while his hand let go of her, only to find her pulsing bundle.

“Beg for it.” It was a simple, rasped command, enough to make her see stars while she could taste her release on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, his thrusts grew slower, dragging out the moment as she searched for her voice. “Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you dumb, you poor thing. Let me hear your voice.”

“Please, Mairon, let me cum.” A sob left (y/n), blurry gaze focused on his features. Darkness seeped out of his every pore, shadows wrapping themselves around the two, all while another hum left him. “I need it, oh fuck, please.”

“Cum with me.” Both fell over the edge at the same time, drawing moans from them while they lost themselves in the intense sensation. It had never felt this strong, this relieving, this perfect. A deadly mixture reminding them both of the power they could wield when their souls were finally connected again.

His forehead fell against hers, lips connected once more before he pulled away. But her hand darted out to cling to his jaw, searching his eyes while finding her trembling voice, “Tell me you’re still mine, tell me she’s nothing but a pawn in your game.”

A raspy chuckle left her lover, he shook his head while intently studying her, “She’s a worthy asset, a pawn to bring us closer to what we’ve been working towards. But she’ll never be you, nobody ever will, sweetling, and it’d do you good to finally remember that.”

(Y/n) pressed another kiss to his lips before both directed their gazes towards the darkening sky, tasting the smoke and ash in the air - something seemingly pushing excitement through his veins, “So it begins.”

#Halbrand smut #Sauron smut #Halbrand x reader #Sauron x reader #rings of power #rings of power smut #sauron imagine #halbrand imagine

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kasagia · 1 month ago

Text

Tolerate it

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: You were with him from the beginning of his existence, from the first break of the silence. You blindly and faithfully followed him—your great, epic love, doing everything to help him, to stay with him no matter what. Sauron was Morgoth's shadow. And you were Mairon's shadow. What will you do when you realise that your devotion is no longer valued and desired by him? Author's Note: I'm actually proud of this one… I shouldn't say this, but it's my favorite so far. Hope you will like it too! <3 Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

I know my love should be celebrated... but you tolerate it.

- "Tolerate it" by Taylor Swift

You watched carefully as Sauron spoke to the people of Eregion, showering them with his charming smiles and sweet promises. You stared at him, analysing his every little move, seeing the traces of lies and deceit on his face as he tried hard to get on their good side, to deceive them into not seeing through his vision what was really happening behind the castle walls.

You wonder if he did the same to you. When he assured you that Galadriel was just an annoying elf, an obstacle to his plans, could you have detected a hint of deceit in his voice and face if you had looked closely enough? Did he also smile at you sweetly, lying to you directly, only to congratulate himself a moment later and be happy that he had managed to deceive you and suppress your any doubts in him, that would have been inconvenient for his plans?

"My love." He murmurs against your ear, surprising you and tearing you out of your thoughts for a moment.

You flinch as he wraps his arms around you, but he takes it as a shiver of surprise, not disgust. Because how could you, blindly in love with him for centuries, ever untangle yourself from his web of beautiful lies? You wonder if he ever loved you at all, if you were just a toy for him to use from the start.

"You're quiet today. And distant. Is everything alright?" Usually that attentive, caring look he gave you was enough to awaken a wonderful, warm feeling of security and peace within you.

You wonder how many times you've fallen for that illusion of concern for you? How many times has his false concern for you cheered you up? How many times has he laughed behind your back at your naivety?

"Yes. Celebrimbor is making your rings. He should be finishing the Nine soon." You respond, wondering if he'll keep teasing you, if he'll actually care about your feelings. Or if he'll just pat you on the back like a loyal pet for good behaviour and leave you to his own plans like he's been doing lately.

"That's wonderful." He mumbles and presses his lips to your forehead. In any other situation, you would consider it a very affectionate and desirable gesture. But now… his lips burned you. And not in a pleasant way. "Watch over him for me a little longer, my love. Our work here is not over yet. I must make sure that the people of Eregion do not realise what is really happening for a few more hours. Will you keep an eye on him for me, my heart?"

My heart, my love, my dearest... so many beautiful words, words that were hard to hear from him a hundred years ago, now poured from his lips so easily like honey... or wine, which you were supposed to intoxicate yourself with, so as not to open your eyes. Just like the inhabitants of the city he was bringing doom to, as if they meant nothing.

Just like you probably were to him…

"Of course, my darling." You respond with the most genuine smile you can muster. Luckily, he either doesn't notice or doesn't care that you're faking your smile for him. He steals a quick, short kiss and walks away from you in the opposite direction—towards the western gates.

You sigh, leaning against the cool wall of the marble hallway and pressing a hand to your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing white spots as you try to somehow break free from the situation you've found yourself in.

Uncontrollable sobs wrack your body as the ring he'd forged for you falls from your hand—the ring that was a faint illusion of the real Nenya, which had befallen Galadriel instead of you, which Sauron had given to Galadriel instead of you.

Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the words he spoke to one of the elves last night. Words you accidentally overheard after you went looking for him when he didn't return to your chambers as he had promised you he would.

"Your hair… in this light it reminds me of my lady Galadriel's hair."

His lady Galadriel.

You've survived and gone through a lot of torture, but hearing him speak with such… affection and adoration in his tone of voice about another woman makes you suffer worse than the worst torture you've been throught.

The worst part was that you didn't know what he saw in her. She was just an elf. An elf bearing the light of Valinor—the same light he had forced you to give up for him. If it was so unpleasant to him, why had he been so fascinated by this arrogant elf? Why had he given her Nenya—the ring that was supposed to be yours? Why had he made you feel like the other woman when you were his most loyal soldier—the one who had stood by him through thick and thin?

You hiss as you clench your fists so hard that black blood spills from under your nails, dug into your palm. Through your watery eyes, you watch as the evidence of your corruption—black sap—runs down your palm, staining the metal of the ring he gave you.

You want to take it off, throw it out the window, and never look at this searing reminder of how much you truly meant to him, but you were too far gone. You couldn’t imagine your life without him.

He had become your master, your Valar, your support, your shelter, your heaven and hell, your everything. And for a while, you had been blinded enough to believe that you were just as important and precious to him as he was to you.

You stand before the forge door, feeling like a small child waiting for someone to call you inside—to grant you permission to enter. You wonder when exactly you became so obedient to him. If you could think back to the times when Sauron was just Mairon, Aulë's apprentice, in his forge, you would remember how different you were from who you were today. You were more confident, happier, and filled with light and love for the man who created wondrous, beautiful, unimaginable things under Valar's watchful eye.

You wonder if he was like this already or if Morgoth was slowly injecting poison into his soul. Could you have really prevented his fall? Could you have made sure he never left the forge? Was the fall between the two of you really your fault, the one you were paying for now as you watched your love slip away from you, or was it never truly true? You don't know. You don't want to know. You already feel like you're going mad without his touch and his tender words, without the certainty that you still have some remnant of his soul and love in a heart that clearly stopped beating for you ages ago.

You flinch as the door swings open. Sauron emerges from the forge in a huff, stained with the blood of the elf who forged his beloved rings. He stops, surprised to see you standing in front of the door. You stare at each other for a moment, left in a dull, heavy silence. You break under his intense gaze and instead shift your gaze to the blood stain that has soaked into the black silk material on his chest.

He looked... both angry and agitated, uncertain. You wonder what exactly Celebrimbor had said to him—what exactly had moved him so much that you could see his eyes glaze over for a brief moment before he realised you were waiting for him outside the door.

"Galadriel has them." He informs you, panting with rage. You frown, shifting your gaze uncertainly back to his face.

Thankfully, he’s no longer meeting your gaze. You wonder if it’s because he has the decency to feel guilty about his feelings for the elf, or if he can’t think of her when he looks at you.

You quickly push that thought out of your head. He had everything except decency.

"What?"

"My rings." He growls, looking at you again. You tremble under his dark gaze. HIS rings. Not yours. Not yours. Like all his plans lately - they belonged only to him. "The Orcs will escort you to Mordor. I have a few more things to attend to before I will join you."

You just nod, unsure how else to respond to his words.

You know perfectly well what he wants to do, even if he hasn't told you his entire plan. You know that Adar will soon meet his end at the hands of your beloved. Another life will be taken by him. And with each one, your eyes opened wider and wider.

You gasp as he suddenly covers the distance between you with quick steps and presses you against the wall behind you. He grabs you brutally by the neck and kisses you. Greedily, hungrily, avidly. The force with which he takes your lips and breath is so great that you can't mistake this kiss for anything other than marking his territory. And you know perfectly well that this is exactly what he wants to do.

What he always did.

How blind you were, never seeing that what kept him with you was fear of loneliness, the desire to possess something. You gave him your heart, your soul, your body, everything—without blinking an eye, without a moment's hesitation.

And you watched him tolerate your devotion to him.

As if what you gave him rightfully belonged to him. As if you were ought to bind yourself to him, to be utterly his.

He pulls away from you, cupping your cheeks in his bloody hands and spreading the blood across your skin with his thumbs, staining you with his sins once again. All you can do is stand there, trembling in his grip as he presses his lips to your forehead.

"You're mine. Only mine. Always mine." He brushes his nose against yours, pressing another kiss to your lips. His tongue caresses yours as he tries to reassure himself that you're still caught up in his web of lies and that you still believe in all his tender and sweet gestures that were never really meant to calm your nerves and worries—only him. It was always about him. "You'll look beautiful in a crown next to me. Right, my queen?"

Whatever that elf had told him, it had raised enough doubts in him that Sauron would seek comfort and reassurance from you. A rare thing. Very rare. And you would have treasured that moment, probably remembered it forever, and carved it into your heart if you had not learnt the ugly truth about your relationship.

No matter how much you give yourself to him, he will never be yours in return.

He would never belong to you. He would never celebrate your love; consider it more than something he owed, something he could conquer and flaunt like his rings. You were to be the jewel in his dark crown... right next to Galadriel.

And in that moment you truly envied the elf, for having managed to resist him before he defiled her as he had defiled you.

"Of course, my king." You promise with a smile and lean down to connect his lips with yours—you do what he taught you best. You lie.

Because you know perfectly well that the moment he turns away from you, you will run. Run far away. In the hope that you will escape the darkness that he has rooted in you. In the hope that you can survive, with your heart ripped out and left behind you.

"Have you finally stopped believing his lies? Or is this just another one of your illusions?" You freeze at the sound of Adar's voice behind you.

You turn slowly, watching the fallen elf carefully. Black blood seeps from his temples, but aside from a few wounds on his body, you see no major injuries on the one who once killed your love.

"I thought by now he would have killed you in one of his infamously creative ways." You mock him as you try to ignore the sight of Eregion burning behind him.

"You don't even reach for your weapon? That's an insult, Mistress of Darkness." You shiver at the nickname, playing with the ring on your finger—the very one Sauron had given you—as you consider your answer.

Adar was barely alive. But he was still alive. You wonder how Sauron had retained enough restraint to give him a fate worse than death—watching someone he loved slowly die. In Adar’s case, he had watched his orc children die; in yours, you had watched Mairon die—a death you had been blind to for centuries.

"It is not my intention to fight you." You sigh tiredly, meeting the dark elf's gaze. Something in his demeanour changes. He is less alert, less tense, as if he sees in you the same surrender he had after the clash with your beloved.

"That's funny. I remember you swore one of the worst deaths to me for killing him." You leave his mockery unanswered as you recall that moment. You thought you would go mad with despair and throw yourself at Morgoth's crown, piercing your heart to be reunited with your beloved in the afterlife. With the benefit of hindsight, when you are wiser, you want to laugh at your own stupidity. He played you, your feelings, your mind, and your heart exactly as he wanted. You let him do all he wanted with you, and then you even thanked him for using you. "Has that day finally come? Are you abandoning him to his lust for power?"

The shock in his voice should offend you and drive you to the point of passion and true, unpredictable rage. But it can't. You feel... numb. Empty. Like nothing really matters anymore. And maybe it doesn't, since your soul and heart slowly wither with every second you're not near him.

Pathetic, how after pulling the dagger from your heart that was Sauron's "love," you miss the pain it brought. Even though you accept with relief that you're slowly bleeding to death, you still crave him. Maybe it really was an addiction? An unhealthy obsession that defined who you were? Because who were you really without Sauron?

"Is it really abandonment if he wants to stick with someone else?" You justify yourself, remembering the look in his eyes when he mentioned the elf you hated. You wonder what you envy more, her light or the fact that she truly seemed to have the undivided attention and adoration of a man you would do anything for?

"Galadriel…"

"No one good is ever truly good… and no one bad is ever truly bad." You interrupt him, not wanting to talk about the elf.

You walk over to him and nod for him to sit on the fallen tree trunk next to you. You muster up some mercy towards him (or your own troubled conscience) and staunch his wounds enough for him to pass away in peace... or at least you hope he will.

At least one of you deserved to find peace.

"Is that what you told yourself while being with him?" The silence between you is uncomfortable, but necessary. Necessary for you to realize how much he was really using you. And how much you wanted him to be someone he never was…

"Maybe." You admit quietly, in a barely audible whisper.

Before he can reach for the dagger at his side, you're already pulling away from him and taking his consciousness, putting him into a sleep state. You run, not catching up with yourself, slowing down only to wipe the tears dripping down your cheeks with the back of your hand. The cold metal of Sauron's ring scratches your skin in a painful reminder of your sins.

You pull the hood over your head, using the back of your hand to shake off the snow that had already accumulated as you made your way through the streets in the dark of the night.

It had been a few weeks since you had escaped from Sauron. Weeks spent avoiding his army of orcs, closing the doors to your thoughts to him, and controlling the connection he had created between you in the time you had spent with him.

He had been looking for you—whether out of revenge for your abandonment, longing for you, a desire to punish you and make an example of you, or all three—you didn't figure it out yet. What you did know was that Galadriel had kept her ring, sacrificing the nine, and that Sauron had been gathering his forces to "heal" Middle-Earth, searching every corner he had conquered in the process, looking for you.

But he wasn't the only one looking for you.

Galadriel and Adar had joined forces in the fight against Sauron. And the latter had tried persistently to convince you to stop watching the fight between them. The need to stay away from Sauron was one thing, but the actual thought of hurting him, of being the cause of his downfall… you didn't know if you could survive that. To be honest, you know you wouldn't.

And he knew that too.

That's why he often tried to break down the wall you had put up between you to appear in the form of an illusion. It was often in moments when you thought of him. You're certain you'll never forget the first time he took the opportunity to reach out to you through your connection.

You were lying on a small bed in the inn, staring blankly at the ceiling above you. You had managed to slaughter the orc troop that was chasing you and had made it safely into the city beyond the mountain pass where you had come across them. You didn't know if Sauron had ordered you brought to him dead or alive, but you didn't particularly want to find out just yet.

That's why, after each such "chase," you left behind a trail of orc blood and bodies, escaping to another hole to wait out the danger and re-emerge into the light of day only when he shifted his attention elsewhere. Like you did now.

You lay in the darkness of your miserable room, cursing yourself for not needing sleep like these mortals. How much would you give for your mind to be immersed in the bliss of not a single thought coming to it? To stop fighting and trying so hard to not think about him...

That night you were particularly tired, not only from the fight and the injury you had suffered but also from the whole escape, which had lasted for several weeks. It was nothing in your immortal, long life, but you found those days without him by your side tiring more than any. You wonder what was worse: separation from him or the hardships of escaping from him?

You can't help but wonder what he's doing now. Does he also lie idle, thinking of you? No. That wasn't his style. He'd probably be sitting in some fortress, surrounded by his servants, whom he despised, as he hatched his plans to heal Middle-Earth. A cure that was supposed to be a disease that had begun in him ages ago. That you couldn't see and cure in him.

"Rather miserable and shabby chambers for a queen." You shiver at the sound of his voice echoing through the small room.

You sit up unsteadily, staring at his figure leaning against the door. You blink a few times, convinced that he was a trick of your tired mind, but when he speaks again, you realise that he managed to slip through your barriers and answer your call while you were thinking about him. You had unknowingly dug a rabbit hole for him inside you. And he took advantage of it, crawling through it before you could block him.

"Although… I think this is a room fit for a treacherous queen."

His mockery shakes you out of your strange state of numbness. You stare at him, anger rising in your chest as you hear him accuse you of the one thing he had no right to.

"It is ironic to hear you, of all the creatures, accusing me of cheating, when I was the one who stood faithfully by your side all these years. Besides... you can't say that you didn't see that coming."

"Maybe I am as naive as my queen?" He replies, slowly walking over to you. You get out of bed, standing on the other side of it, desperately trying to put some distance between you.

"Which one? Forgive me, but I'm starting to get a little confused since you're calling so many women by that title." You say, sticking the pin where it hurts.

"Jealous of the elf?"He asks, raising an eyebrow mockingly at you.

"I didn't leave because of jealousy. You know that very well."

Honesty was always something he accepted... worse. He didn't like being vulnerable, showing his cards and saying what he really felt... that's why looks away and tries to change the subject.

"If you come back, I won't punish you too harshly… at least not in a way you don't like." You shiver as memories of your times together—those particularly intense ones, where all you could do was whisper or scream his name, as he destroyed you for anyone else in the sheets of your bed—run through your mind.

“Go back to what?”

"You promised to stand by me. To be my right hand." He responds, offended by the thought that you ask him such a question, that you don't know what awaits you, that he has to explain to you how grateful you should be that he will take you back without any problems.

"I am sure you will find many worthy replacements for me. For example, such a commander of elven forces…"

"I don't want Galadriel." He interrupts you with a sharp, cold tone, irritated that you're bringing up the subject of the elf. He starts to walk around the bed, wanting to get closer to you, and you take a few steps away from him with each one he comes with.

"Did you come to this conclusion before or after she rejected you?" You mock him, watching him closely. And you see perfectly on his face the moment his composure breaks.

After berely a blink of an eye later, he’s standing in front of you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders and shoving you against the wall behind you. You fight his grip, struggling, trying to kick him, but he’s got both of your wrists in one hand and lifting them above your head, pressing his torso against yours.

"You are mine. I will kill anyone who says or thinks otherwise… including you." He growls in your ear and runs his nose over your temple. You take quick, ragged breaths as you give in to his illusion and his will, sensing his scent, the warmth, as if he were actually with you.

"I am not one of your rings. You can't put me on your finger and expect me not to slip off when you lose interest in me, to faithfully wait for your attention until you feel like playing with me again." You hiss angrily in his face and lift your legs, trying to kick him. He gasps, struggling to keep his grip on your wrists. After a moment, he grabs you roughly by the waist and pushes you onto the bed.

"Stop making this difficult. We both know how it will end. Go home. Before I will drag you to it." He warns you, glaring at you intensely as he steps closer to you. You raise your leg to kick him in the chest, but he catches your ankle, grounding you.

"I have no home. You made sure of that." You growl at him, trying to yank your leg out of his grip, but he won't let you. He takes a step towards you and braces your leg over his shoulder. He presses his lips to your ankle, sending a shiver right up your spine.

"I am your husband..."

"I don't remember you swearing any oaths to me." You respond angrily, yanking your leg out of his grip as he presses kisses along your ankle and lower. You can't let him have enough space to play his tricks and seduce you to get you on his side again.

"It is enough that you have given me one. You cannot break it."

"In the eyes of the Valar we do not exist anyway. We have no souls. So why should I keep the promises made by that part of me that died long ago, buried by your own hand, Mairon?" The use of his true name somehow unsettles him, causing his mask of composure to crumble for a moment. You see in his eyes as old memories of the two of you flash through his mind—when you both bathed in the light of the Valar, when he was just your Mairon. "Forgive me... Sauron."

He recoils from you as if scalded when he hears the hateful tone in your voice as you speak his other name—the one given to him by Morgoth. You see him tremble when it feels from your lips like a foul curse. You give him one of your coldest, most cruel looks, and you almost crumble in your resolve to keep him away from you when you see him shake his head gently, allowing himself a moment of weakness with you.

"You knew perfectly well what I had become… after Morgoth."

"I did. What I didn't realize was that you would want to remain his shadow forever." You respond with bitterness and stare at him with resentment equal to the one he accused you of abandoning him… but how could you stay with him when he hurt you more than anyone else had before?

"I am not his shadow. I am my own master. This... this is who I am."

"Then this is not the man I promised myself to." Your words hurt him. He may not show it in a big way, but you can see it in the way his jaw clenches a little harder after your statement.

"But this is a man you've bonded yourself to. Til the end of the time and much longer after that." He reminds you, never taking his piercing, cold gaze off you.

"Or until one of us is forever gone." There’s another long silence after your statement, this time more tense. You swallow hard, watching in the piercing silence, broken only by your loud heartbeat, as he takes in the meaning of your words. And you can clearly say that he doesn’t like them at all.

"You can't kill me. You won't. You can't. You care too much."

"I know. I meant something else."

At those words, something inside him snaps. He stops controlling you completely. Before you can blink, he's straddling you. You struggle against his grip, fighting him with everything you have, but he pins you down to the bed with all his strength, not letting you move away from him for even an inch.

"If you do… I will pull you from the land of the dead, find your soul, and make you suffer more than Morgoth ever did to us. You will not leave me… not you… if you do not return to me…"

"What will you do? Burn whole Middle-Earth? Destroy me? You've already done that or are about to do it." You growl, digging your nails into his wrists as he tries to lock your hands back in his iron grip. You whine, in pain and shock, as he bites into your shoulder, effectively distracting you so he can overpower you. "Unlike you, I have nothing to lose, my king."

Your mockery only fuels his anger. You gasp as he pushes his knee between your legs, creating a space for himself. Before you can even react, he leans down and captures your lips in a punishing, bruising kiss, as if it were some form of punishment for you - a punishment created by him specifically for his pleasure.

"I will find you… I will find you, and bind you to myself with golden shackles if necessary." He mumbles against your lips, cupping your cheek in his hand.

He presses his thigh against your core, teasing your shamefully dripping pussy for him, asserting his dominance over you. As if to reassure himself that he still has some kind of control over you.

"I'll rip my heart out before you lay even the tip of your littlest finger on me again." You promise him, but it seems unlikely considering the way you grind against his thigh, desperate to get away from him yet unable to do anything but endure his treatment.

"Then I will lay at your feet the heads of everyone who has caused you to leave me. Their lives, the lives of everyone in Middle-Earth, and their blood will be stained your hands."

You can’t help but moan as his fingers find their way to your cunt and pinch it. You bite your lip until it bleeds as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, stretching the tight walls of your pussy for him once more.

"They already do. Since the day I brought you back... since the day I followed you and supported you. Since the day I naively fell into your arms believing that I meant as much to you as you did to me. Since then I have had your sins on my shoulders." You mumble, digging your fingers into his arms as he is tirelessly working on your pleasure.

"If what I feel for you is not love, then I don't know what it feels like."

And then you almost give in to him, almost surrender, wanting to believe his sweet words, wanting to believe that he is actually capable of loving you sincerely, that all those centuries spent by his side were not a waste of time at all.

Almost. Because you realize he is much wiser in the art of deceiving everyone around him than you will ever be.

You sigh as he removes his fingers and instead teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. And even though you know better than to give in to him like that, you can't stop or push him away—too eager for his touch after so long apart to do the right thing.

Instead, you let yourself be submerged in his perfectly tailored illusion of him thrusting into you, glad that he's not actually with you in the flesh, because then you'd fail completely to him once again. In your mind, you find a twisted excuse for your actions and grab his hair hard, sinking your fingers into the perfectly coiffed bow and tugging on it as he pounds into you at an unforgiving pace.

"You will regret this. When I put a crown on you made of your blood and the blood of our enemies, you will regret having abandoned me. I will make you my ornament, my prize, a pretty thing on my arm. Then you will understand how I treat my toys." You whine as each sentence he says ends with him thrusting harder and harder into you.

You close your eyes and bite your lip, trying to keep from making too many sounds, but it doesn’t meet with his approval. He wraps a warning hand around your neck, pressing down just a little as he forces you to look him in the eyes.

You feel the heat spreading across your chest, the ragged breaths that leave your lungs a reward that makes him redouble his efforts, abusing your poor, overstimulated body, forcing sweet whimpers and moans out of you over and over for his pleasure.

"The thing is... you've always treated me this way. Maybe we're both blind—me for seeing it too late and you for thinking you did me a favour by letting me love you endlessly when I got nothing in return."

"I have always adored you." He quickly denies it, telling you another well-practiced lie.

"Did you?" You ask, grabbing his chin firmly. He freezes for a moment, staring at you without saying a word, too surprised that you're still trying to defy him. "Look me in the eyes and tell me it was always me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would give it all up for me. Look me in the eyes and tell me it was all in my head—that I got your intentions wrong somehow, that instead of celebrating my love, you didn't take it for granted and started craving power more than my love. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would choose me over a hundred rings. I dare you. Show me your alleged love."

You hold your breath, waiting impatiently for his response. For the first time, you realise that you're seeing him without any words. He's staring at you, shocked and frozen, trying to get something out of his mouth.

You laugh bitterly, still with him deep inside you, as he proves to you exactly what you suspected, exactly what you didn't want to see all these years. He didn't truly love you. He never did.

"Get out of my mind. Have enough decency and mercy for my tormented heart and leave me alone." You beg him shakily, allowing yourself to show so much weakness. You close your eyes tightly, stopping any tears from spilling out as the painful truth hits you.

"I can't." He spits it out reluctantly, admitting, probably for the first time in a long time, honestly to you.

Sauron wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing you painfully against him. He digs his fingers into your arms, as if to make sure you don't break free from his grip. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

"Come back. Just come back."

You're not used to seeing him like this. To seeing him... lost, begging for something, being not the one in control. You close your eyes, letting your tears mingle with his—the ones that are dripping onto your cheek from his.

"To watch you tolerate my love again?" You spit at him angrily, and he shakes his head slightly. He removes his forehead from yours and cups your cheek gently in his hand, caressing it as he forces you to look at him again.

"To watch me make everyone in all Middle-Earth fall at your feet and worship you."

"I only want your adoration… it's a pity you're not able to give it to me honestly."

"Y/N... please." He tries one last time, pressing his lips to yours, stealing the words you wanted to use against him. You gasp into his desperate kiss as he begins to move his hips again, tearing you, your soul, and your body in half.

"It was not me who left us in ruins… you have no right… you have no right to ask or beg me for anything." You whine, letting your tears fall down your cheeks.

His plush lips kiss off each tear as he continues to desperately hold you, thrusting into you as if he can redeem himself through his sweet words and the pleasure he brings you.

"Y/N." He whispers desperately, pleadingly, as he brings the two of you closer and closer to climax, despite how reluctant you are to accept him inside you.

He craves your touch, your tenderness, and your warmth. He has to have you back; he can't imagine a world without you; he can't imagine you by anyone else's side but him. And if he has to burn all of Middle-Earth and take you against your will, then he will.

He will do anything to make you see again that you belong together, that he worships you—maybe not to the extent you expect, but as madly and devotedly as his black rotten heart can handle.

"Get out of my mind, you deceiver."

"You… of all people… don't call me that… at least not you." He mumbles against your temple, pressing his lips there.

Every little whisper, every tender touch is just another dose of poison—poison you thought you were already healed from. But in that little moment between you, he reminded you so clearly of the power he has over you and how strong he is. Because even knowing what he is like, you couldn't fight the pull between you. That's why you had to stay away from him. For your own good.

The moment you both fall apart, reaching your peaks, you focus your power and throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut with a bang. You breathe deeply, tiredly, as the connection between you weakens, even as you feel him hammering with all his might against the gates to your mind you’ve closed. You allow yourself a moment of shuddering sobs, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself and holding on, rocking back and forth on the bed to somehow calm your shattered emotions.

You’d forgotten how strong his illusions could be and how gracefully he could mess with the minds of others, passing off his thoughts to them as their own. You begin to wonder how much of you was really there and how much of the emotion you felt was really coming from him.

You decide you don't want to know.

You quickly gather yourself to set off on your journey, convinced that he has caught your scent and is already in pursuit of you. And you are not wrong. A few hours later, you watch in the distance as the village you stopped at burns under fire and the feet of orcs. At least he has not lied to you about this one thing.

He will burn the world to get to you.

You shiver, coming back to the present as a cold blade is pressed to your neck. You glance at the weapon and frown, recognizing Adar's black blade.

"I thought you wanted to meet like civilized beings?"

"As if you or I could be one." He whispers in your ear. You manoeuvre his hand and push him away from you, throwing him against the wall behind him and pulling out your blade. You aim it at him, watching him carefully.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to specify which side you are on." You laugh mockingly at the demand coming from him. He had definitely become too arrogant over the centuries he had managed to live through. Perhaps you should remind the fallen elf of his place…

"The answer has not changed since we last saw each other. I am on the only side that is right for me in this little war between you, Galadriel, and him. On my own."

"He wants you. And he won't rest until he gets you. You know that." You frown at his words, not at all appreciating the conversation about your former lover. The lover who continued to pursue you tirelessly despite how many times you had escaped the clutches of his orc army.

"And so?"

"We both know you will succumb to him the moment you come within his reach again. And Galadriel and I cannot have that. If you join him… the world will burn in the fires of his creation."

"It is already burning in the fires of its furious search for me." You growl, blocking the attack he launches at you just as you try to move away from him. You land a few blows, which he successfully blocks, but not as effortlessly as he would like.

"This flame we are able to control. The question is for how long?"

"You know very well that I will not join him of my own free will."

"Just enough to also know that he won't give you a choice once he catches you. Together you are too dangerous. So one of you must die."

"And you want it to be me?" You ask with a mocking smile on your face, ignoring the cold shiver that ran through you.

He was right. Partly. It seemed logical to destroy one of you since you were connected to Sauron. By getting rid of one, you take away some of the power from the other. And since you didn't seem like a particularly great threat, they wanted to remove you from the picture.

"I'd prefer it to be Sauron, but since you leave me no choice… I don't care whose dead bodies I step over to bring about his eternal end."

"Oh you showed this very well by sacrificing your so-called children." You mock him, pleased when you manage to hurt him in a vulnerable spot.

He attacks you harder this time, actually forcing you to block his sword. You push him away from you, moving to the next street, one that leads out more to the outskirts of the village, where you could see the nearby forest.

"I don't want you to die. But I will kill you if I have to." He growls, thrusting forward, trying his best to cut your skin with his blade.

Adar posed no threat to you. Yet you knew you would not be able to avoid their efforts to kill you for long. Eventually you would have to choose a side. But you feared your battered heart had not yet healed enough to make the best decisions for yourself.

"Then you will make him win. He'll have nothing to lose after my death. Literally nothing. And you know perfectly well what a desperate man will do, don't you, Adar?"

"Make him fall… or fall before him."

"What should I do? Return to his side and be your spy? Do you think he won't notice that I won't sense the trick? Or that I won't change my mind? He knows my mind. He will see over this little lie."

"But he doesn't know your heart." You can't stop the slight twitch of your facial muscles—a sign of weakness that he quickly spits out and greets with a dark, mocking smile of victory.

"I don't have one anymore." You answer without emotion, knowing that it is partly true. Part of your heart had been cut out, and what was left of it was no longer fit to function like it once did. Sauron made sure of it.

"That's why I trust you in terms of making him disappear once and for all." An unpleasant shiver runs through you, and a strange feeling of unease settles heavy in your chest at his words. The thought of killing him, of being part of the cause of his death, isn't... as liberating as it should be. Which scares you a little bit.

But before you can say anything, agree or reject his proposal by mocking him, you hear the howl of a warg coming from the nearby forest. And that could only mean one thing…

"You fucking traitor." You growl at Adar and charge at him. He deliberately delayed you, allowing the orc scouts to catch up with you.

Instead of thinking about escaping, you think about how to hurt him the most. That's why you want to show him what happened to his children. You're both in the middle of the fight when the first orc units reach you. They throw themselves at you as well as at their father, with the difference that none of them dares to raise a weapon at you. They have a clear mission. To catch you and take you to their master. The rest of the world was of lesser importance to Sauron.

Unfortunately, Adar manages to escape the battlefield. If you weren't busy killing orcs, you'd mock what a coward he is, since he can't face what he once loved and cared for. On the other hand, unfortunately, you understand him. You realise this when, in this sudden commotion, amidst blood both black and red, the fire from the torched village, the screams of men, and the army of orcs, you see him.

Sauron. Halbrand. Annatar. Mairon. He had many names. And many faces. You wonder if you ever got to know his real one.

But you won't let me win that easily. That's why when your eyes meet his, you run in the opposite direction. He's not calling you. He's not stupid enough to think that you'll come to him of your own free will. That's why you run, not even turning to see if he's following you. Because you know perfectly well that if you focus your senses enough, you'll feel his breath on the back of your neck.

Running into the ruins of the forest, you know you have no escape route. They burnt everything and buried every possible hiding place, leaving only fire and darkness behind. Strangely, you didn't pay any attention to it. You wonder if your ignorance stems from the far worse things you've already seen while at Sauron's side or if you've simply stopped paying attention to things that don't directly concern you.

Your heart beats madly as you hear his footsteps behind you, and you feel him trying to simultaneously cage you in his arms and break through the barrier you've put up in your mind.

In your flight from him, you fail to notice how he manipulates your surroundings, masking his protruding crotch with his illusion. You stumble, giving him just enough time to catch up to you.

You fight him, trying to break through his armour with your dagger, but he doesn’t let you squirm under him for long. He knocks the weapon out of your hands, catching your wrists in a tight grip and lifting them above your head. He lets you fight his clinging grip for a moment longer, staring at you intently, drinking in all the changes in you since he last saw you. And you can’t stop your heart from beating a little faster at the sight of him.

"Are you done?" He asks you mockingly, piercing you through with his icy gaze.

"I don't know yet." You pant, still exhausted from running away from him and fighting him. You try to kick him with your legs and push him off of you, but he holds his ground above you, his body pinning you to the dead ground beneath you.

"I can go on like this for eternity." He warns you, bored, as if he hadn’t spent all those nights over the past century searching for you, cursing your name as you slipped through his fingertips each time he was close to catching you.

"Me too." You growl at him angrily, renewing your attempts to defeat him with even more furious passion.

You managed to surprise him enough to somehow crawl out from under his grip. You push him away and stand up to keep running, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you back to him. And before you can react, his mouth is on yours, devouring you in the most ravenous, unholy way possible—taking your breath away, any thought that was going to cross your mind.

You can't help but moan into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, ravaging you even more with each movement of his tongue against yours. He cups your cheeks in his hands, making sure you don't pull away from his kiss. He presses his body against yours with a groan, as he is finally able to properly sink into the feeling of your lips, warmth, and scent.

He can't count how many sleepless nights he spent thinking about you. It was pathetic, how frustrated he felt, how he had to meet his needs on his own, while sinful images of you—precious memories he held onto—tempted him and distracted him from his main mission.

But he finally had you. And he'd be damned if he'd ever let you walk away from his watchful gaze again.

"Lord Sauron we have taken over…" The orc who was supposed to give him the message couldn't even finish his sentence as Sauron sent one of his blades towards him.

You could hear his dead body fall to the ground a little further away from you as Sauron hungrily, open-mouthed, moved along the column of your neck with his lips, placing wet kisses, leaving hickies and bite marks all the way down to your clothed chest—marking you as his property once again.

"You killed him."

"I have many of them. And only one of you." He doesn't even have the decency to care about your accusation and stop kissing every tiny inch of your skin he can reach. You sigh, trying to pull away from him, but with each tender kiss he places against your skin, it becomes more and more difficult.

"It's exactly the same with your rings, and yet this rule doesn't apply when it comes to them."

"Don't start." He mumbles and pinches your side in warning. You give him a hurt, angry look, and he just chuckles darkly, thug-like. It's one of the rare times you see him so... relaxed and carefree, without any worries or plans nagging at him, when all he wants to do is lose himself in you.

"I should have killed you ages ago. Or myself. Or both of us." You mumble as his fingers begin to work on the laces of your blouse. He presses a kiss to your cheek, completely ignoring your small threats as he cups your breast in his hand and begins to fondle it. You hiss as he plays with your nipples, and you involuntarily tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"And I should punish you for leaving me, but yet here I am, worshiping my queen." "We need each other. You know that. So stop fighting it." He whispers into the crook of your neck, continuing to pepper it with kisses. With your other hand, you reach for the dagger at your side and, taking advantage of its looseness, press the metal against the back of his neck.

"You may have needed me… but I never needed you."

"Lier." He growls, not moving an inch, waiting to see if you dare to pierce his skin and draw his black blood, or if you will finally give in to your wild desire, fuelled by a century of your running away from him.

"Deceiver." You respond just as furious, and you roughly push his head away from you so you can look him in the eye. He licks his lips, watching the furious look in your eyes, a raging storm of both lust and rage.

"A damn good couple, don't you think?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lip, staring at him, your grip on the dagger tightening as you lightly trace the line of hair at the nape of his neck with the tip of the blade, still hesitating.

"It's them or you. From the rain to the gutter."

"But only at my side will you become queen." He entices you and puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his intense gaze.

"Queen of nothing." You comment, emphasizing the last word with a glance at the empty, scorched earth around you.

"My queen." He corrects you. He gently removes his hand from your body and reaches for the back of his head—where you still have an iron grip on his hair. You freeze when you feel him slide his little breast onto your free finger.

"This time we will be equal. Or I will bring doom upon us both."

And though your warning sends an unpleasant shiver of alarm through him, he ignores it completely. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising, passionate kiss, and can't help but smile as he hears and feels you drop the dagger to the ground.

"I think I can work with that." He mumbles against your mouth, throwing himself at you like a starving man looking for a warm meal.

You idly trace patterns on his back with your fingers, carefully considering your next move. For now, you'll let him think he's placated you and that he's on your good side again.

And in time, when he once again takes your devotion for granted—and you're convinced he will—you'll seize the opportunity against him. You'll be the queen of nothing. And you'll do it without a king by your side. If he can't celebrate your love, then you don't have to accept his rule.

This time you will be the one to tolerate his affection for you.

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wordbunch · 3 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

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