#halbrand/sauron x reader

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

This is it. The final chapter. I cannot believe we're here. I hope you all enjoy it! ❤️

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader; Galadriel x Female Reader; light Haladriel/Saurondriel.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Nine, Thirty, Thirty-One, Thirty-Two, Thirty-Three, Thirty-Four, Thirty-Five, Thirty-Six, and Thirty-Seven!

Chapter Thirty-Eight/Epilogue

Your eyes stung as they flung open, searing white light consuming the entirety of your vision. Gasping for air as if you had never breathed it in before, you begged your eyes to adjust to your new surroundings, your fear of the unknown taking hold. You commanded your body to rise, and stand upright, and it obeyed, but not in a fashion you were familiar with. It felt as if you were floating, levitating now over the surface upon which you had been laid. Casting your vision downward, your body was clothed in stars. It was a fabric of unknown origin, clinging to your form like a mist over mountains, with twinkles of light scattered through it. Curious, you moved your hand slowly down to feel it, and gasped when it passed right through you. A strange tingling buzzed from your fingertips up to the top of your head. This made you giggle.

Looking up ahead, the white light was still blinding, but had begun to subside, or at least become easier on the eyes to take in. For the entire environment was colourless, no dimensions of any kind to be made out, no horizon, no earth, no sky, just white space, empty and endless. But then, there was music. A faint sound you weren't sure at first if you were hearing it or imagining it. Though as it's volume increased, it entered your ears and spread within your luminescent figure. The beauty and power of it was overwhelming, and you smiled, crying tears of joy. Invisible instruments and voices made up a great symphony that was unlike any music you had ever heard. It was almost tangible, the only thing in this boundless space besides yourself that could take on form.

It excited you greatly, filling you with a sense of purpose like you had never felt. Suddenly you were spinning, twirling, watching as the stars and mists of you danced about in unison as you floated in time to the heavenly harmonies and melodies. It was bliss. Though something unexpected happened to slow your movements. Without any doubt, you had heard your name called out to you, weaved into the song, yet separate enough to be distinguished. But it was the voice that called it out that took you aback.

It was your mother.

She arrived steadily, emerging into dazzling colour from the all encompassing whiteness. Her form was covered in a gown made of the sea itself, peaceful and tranquil at her shoulders, though it's waves raged against each other at the bottom as she swept towards you, a hem of sea foam moving as if on sand. She smiled at you with her diamond eyes, embracing you completely, and it felt as if your spirits were merging. The water of her did not dampen you though, nor did the colour of her ocean become affected by your starry mist, yet you were as one. Mother and daughter, reunited at last. "My child… I have long been waiting for this time to come." Her voice was almost the same as you remembered it, with an added ethereal quality that made you smile even wider. "I knew I would see you again. You were watching over me, guiding me. You never left me." "It was my purpose, my destiny, to keep you in the light. Just as it was your destiny to leave Arda before the darkness would consume you fully."

"The… darkness…" A flash of fire engulfed you, as the images of your life appeared before you, reminding you of the only existence you had known. You had been so caught up in this otherworldly euphoria that you had somehow left all thought of it behind with your earthly body. Halbrand came back to you, your love, your king, your destiny… or so you had thought. Now your tears became droplets of sorrow, of grief for what you had lost. "Mother… this… this can't be my destiny! I… I'm meant to stay with Halbrand… to ensure that goodness endures in Middle-earth…" A powerful sense of dread invaded you as a realisation struck you. "If I'm gone… then… then…" You couldn't bring yourself to say it, so instead, the words came out of you in a different way, manifesting before you the aftermath of your demise.

You and your mother watched on in silence as Halbrand succumbed to his grief, and succumbed to Sauron. The tears were streaming out of you now, a river that flowed down and into the sea that surrounded your mother. This was Sauron like you had never witnessed. It was pure unadulterated power. The display of which you had heard mention of, but never truly believed that the man you loved was capable of exhibiting such force. Yet it was occurring right before you as if you were standing still in the town square having never left. He had dominion over the elements, conjuring fire, summoning lightning, needing no sword to strike his enemies.

Though it seemed he still took pleasure in the elegance of a sharp blade. Your blade. Sauron murdered Olwenna and Padrig, and your pain was immense. But you were not hateful towards your love, even still, even after seeing this horrid sight… you understood him. Fighting because he must, and because all meaning had been lost, taken away from him. The light had fled with you, nowhere to be found within him. As if the sun itself had been extinguished. Only darkness would remain.

You could feel your grief turn to anger, your sorrow to rage, building quickly within your spirit. The mist that covered you began to darken and your stars dwindled as they fell victim to your change. A new voice entered your ear then, as you drifted back the vision to the moments before your lifeless body became no more. You closed your eyes, imagining your spirit back within your flesh, wanting to hear the words spoken as if your dead body was actually listening. The language was black speech, and although you had never heard it, you understood exactly what it meant.

"And now the fire that burns so blindingly… is our love immortal, burning for eternity."

Sauron's lament, once lines of a loving stanza he had sung to you by the fire. Now they took on a different meaning. Your spirit could not take anymore. The demented screams that escaped you now were carried on a black smoke that billowed quickly from your mouth. The sound clashed almost violently with the serene orchestra that had brought you such joy only moments earlier. It was twisted, deformed, inhuman. It was all you were now.

"Hold onto me, daughter…" You could hear your mother's peaceful voice on the edge of your shriek, your dark music. You turned to see her waves reaching for you, the hand of her spirit outstretched. The screaming endured, and she was enveloped by your charcoal plumes. "SEND… ME… BACK…" you cried, demanding to leave this place, to be apart of it's blissful music no longer. "You want me to remain in the light… I cannot do so here! For parted… Sauron and I will only bring darkness to whatever realm we occupy. I will infect this place, mother… I will be a plague upon it! Is that what you want?"

The smoke from you was fast filling the white space, the music drowned out and replaced by your haunting. Now your mother's tears flowed down and into her ocean. "The time at which your life ended… was a point of no return. There was only shadow ahead. It was the last chance to ensure you left Arda with light in you. I had to protect you." "Why?" you shouted at her, monstrously. "Because a mother loves her daughter… and would sacrifice anything to keep her." "What have you done!?" The weight of your mother's actions hit you with blunt force. "All of your interference only led to our darkness being unleashed! Halbrand is lost!" "My child… I am afraid his dark descent was inevitable… I had to spare you of it… save you." "SEND ME BACK!" you demanded hopelessly, not even questioning if your mother had to power to do so or not. She seemed to be responsible for ripping you out of the arms of your love, why would she not be able to return you to him? "That is something that I cannot do. Your spirit belongs with me now. Until we are called upon to serve our greater purpose."

The opaque fumes that had emanated from you had now completely covered the realm in which you both resided. The music could be heard no longer, and now peace, bliss, was something you would perhaps never find. Existing now in eternal heartache, parted forever from your love, only able to look upon him from a great distance, and watch as he continued on in his world, without his queen by his side…

*****

The lands of Mordor trembled under the power of the fiery mountain, its eruptions sending the blood of Middle-earth up into the sky and down upon the ground, scorching it. New vibrations suddenly began to clash with those of nature, for a great army was marching in, invading the ash covered plains, bracing to war with their enemy. The dark lord stood atop his dark tower, Barad-dûr, a looming symbol of his power within his domain, threatening and evil. Lightning in the distance provided a striking backdrop for the Nazgûl as they flew across the impending battlefield, the screeches of their fell beasts echoing across the landscape. Sauron watched, amused by the attempts of men and elves to conquer him.

His charcoal armour sounded in the air with every step he took, pacing on the precipice of his tower, gazing downward as his orcs howled and readied themselves to fight in his name, banners of The Eye blowing fiercely in the wind. His muted brown hair flowed out long behind him, underneath the six spired crown he wore, signifying his rule. He had grown rather fond of the idea of wearing one ever since his first kingship. Indeed it was the very same crown, only transformed by his own forging, crafted to represent his presence now as the dark lord. Sauron's thoughts of his brief time in Pelargir were never far from his mind. In fact, the city still stood all these years later, untouched by his shadow since the day he left.

Since the day you left.

He grinned, closing his slitted eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling as if your spirit was passing into him. Sauron always felt you near, for though you had died, it was as he had said, your spirit would always linger, stoking the fire of his beating heart. "Oh my love…" he whispered to you, "Look who comes for slaughter…" he snickered devilishly, the fast drumming of his heart your response as his excitement took hold. It was then he turned to face you, the one ring on his armoured finger, glistening in the flames of Mount Doom, it's power unmatched, transcendent, making the dark lord almost a being of pure omniscience. Feeling it's pull, he glanced at it proudly, for his achievement was great. Though it was not what he considered to be his best work. That, was what he gazed upon now.

For in the very centre of the summit of Barad-dûr, there stood a statue. A monument, an effigy… of you. Wrought in blackened iron, your love had crafted an image of you, capturing your beauty, your love, and your reign as queen. For on your form was shaped your diadem atop your head, and your wedding gown which Sauron had captured expertly, down to the detail within the billowing sleeves of pearl. He had recreated the way the dress had moved, even with this statue as still as the night, it looked as if it were fluttering elegantly in the wind.

This sculpture was also your tomb, and the last touch added to the dark tower upon its completion. Inside the great forge of the mountain, your love had fused your ashes within the iron, giving you new life, a new vessel from which to rule. Sauron stepped towards your ethereal figure, gazing up at the soft smile he had carved on your face, and he took off the sharp metal glove from his left hand, revealing his wedding ring. He had never removed it. Placing that same hand upon your own ringed finger, connecting the two bands of your love he had made for you both in Pelargir, Sauron beamed up at you as a single tear shed from him. The wind blew around him then in a circular motion, just as it did that day when your ashes had spiralled around him in farewell. He couldn't help but let out a loving laugh, and just for a moment, he was a humble blacksmith again, working a forge on Númenor, greeting a beautiful woman who had stumbled upon his workshop. And now, he beheld his greatest creation. The meaning of his life.

Sauron kissed your hand gently, grateful to have his queen by his side. As it was destined. Though together, but very much apart, the darkness was victorious over the light, and the shadow of Sauron, of Barad-dûr, of you swept across the lands, and the lady of light was ever out of reach.

Tagging: @denzit @heronamedhawks @pursuitseternal @coraleethroughthelookingglass @hikarielizabethbloom @restless-tides @vaguelyvibin @imjustsuperweird @gil-galadhwen @somebirdortheother @lady-of-imladris @princessfantaghiro @starlady66

Thank you so much to ALL OF YOU who have taken the time to read my story. I really cannot put into words how it makes me feel. To those of you who have been on this journey since I posted the first chapter, to those who jumped on during the ride, and to those who have found this right at the end... you all have a place in my heart. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. It's changed my life. And that's mostly thanks to all of you. I am eternally grateful. Now... onto the next! ❤️❤️❤️

[swordgrace]

❝ 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.”

[notreallythatlost]

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

[kasagia]

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.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine your final request to Annatar (Sauron) going horribly wrong…

“If you are to bring my death then I would plead with you to allow me one last moment of happiness.”

He wished that his spell over you had not broken, that you had not seen the true horrors of his conquest. But most of all, he wished that he was being given another choice. Unable to speak, he merely gazed upon your face in the small hope that your mind would change.

“Kiss me for the last time.”

He had endured torment at the hands of Morgoth and yet this felt worse.

“What?”

“Let my last breath be upon your lips. Let me feel your embrace for another heartbeat. Perhaps it will ease the heartache of what could have been.” You said. “Please, I do not ask for much else.”

His dream to achieve order was near. He had manipulated and spilled blood at each turn but he also felt love. He did not think he could and yet, he allowed you into settle in his heart and create a home.

Could he forsake you? Would it be worth it?

Needing clarity, he granted you this one pardon. Taking you into his arms as he had done many times before, Annatar closed the space and gently pressed his lips upon yours. When you moved against him with equal pressure, his conflicted mind was calmed. His senses were overwhelmed with your scent, your sweet taste - that is when he realised that he could not follow through.

He would allow you to live and hate him for eternity but he would not be the cause of your death. Not here and, certainly, not now.

Suddenly, you took in a sharp breath and bit his lower lip. He felt blood being drawn but he also felt something else, something sharp.

Your body grew heavy, alarming Annatar. His eyes opened and he saw it, a surviving guard had summoned enough strength to stand and plunge a sword into his immortal chest… through your body.

Rage swelled and with one single stare, the guard’s neck snapped leaving him to crumple in a heap. He snapped his fingers and the sword vanished leaving only a trail of blood.

When he called your name, you did not stir. He demanded that you open your eyes. He promised a swift destruction to the lands if you did not speak. He fell to his knees and wept when you did not heed his commands.

It was too late. You had passed, taking the remains of his heart and capacity to love with you. And you would never know that he loved you enough.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Well, I’m sad now.

[wordbunch]

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

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

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

[halbravd]

rings of power boys ft “can you send me $100?” a modern!au text prank

isildur:

halbrand/sauron:

elendil:

arondir:

celebrimbor:

elrond:

gil galad:

[thyras]

→ your divine

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

WORD COUNT → 6.6k words

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

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

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

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

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

Never to know the longing of separation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I learned from the best,"

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

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

The family never suspecting of your true loyalty.

And your purpose here.

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

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

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

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

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

And the chaos that would cause.

Such delightful chaos.

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

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

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

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

Why did you always have to be his rational conscience?

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I will it,"

[dracowars]

of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

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

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

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

universe: the rings of power

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

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

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

"Sister-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scares you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't allow that."

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

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

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

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

"Lord Halb-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dinsbeskar]

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

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

The beginning of the end... what will become of our beloved throuple? Can the uprising be stopped?

I am so very proud of this chapter, and I truly hope you all enjoy it. Two more to go... *hides away to await your reactions*

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader; Galadriel x Female Reader; light Haladriel/Saurondriel.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Light violence. Major Character Death. 😬

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Nine, Thirty, Thirty-One, Thirty-Two, Thirty-Three, Thirty-Four, and Thirty-Five!

Chapter Thirty-Six

All heads turned to the she-elf. Her eyes held the same grief within them as your brothers had when they first entered. "I came to warn you-" "We know." Halbrand interrupted, wishing to save Galadriel the breath. "My brothers have just informed us of what our people seem to be plotting." you explained, trying to contain your joy at the sight of the woman you loved. She was here. She had returned to you. "Galadriel… do you stand with us?" She let the most subtle of smiles creep into her expression, nodding her head in assent. "Hope is not lost then, my love." you spoke, shifting your gaze to Halbrand, watching the fear begin to dissipate in his eyes.

"We must act now, if we wish to prevent your people from mutiny. The minds of men are easily persuaded. The three of us should be able to repair the damage before it is too late." Galadriel implored. "Though you may want to dress for the occasion, your majesty." she scoffed, though playfully, finding it hard not to enjoy the sight of Halbrand's bare chest, and the opportunity it afforded her to make a jab at him. Your love said nothing in response, only wandered over to slide on his burgundy tunic, the one from your wedding, before putting boots and belt on, and grabbing the final touch that is required of royalty: your crowns. Once your own boots were laced up, and you fetched your dagger, you stood upright to receive the diadem once more. The people needed to be reminded of who they dared to challenge.

The five of you then exited your home, rainwater splashing under your feet as you moved through the streets. The rain seemed to have driven the citizens of Pelargir indoors, for there was no one to be found at all roaming the city. The only movement came from you. Steeling yourself with each breath you took, you looked deep within for the strength to face what was to come. For winning over your people, especially those you knew and cared for, was not going to be easy. Another battle to be fought it seemed, though hopefully this one would occur without the need for violence.

Soon the great hall came into view, and yet still there was not a soul to be found. It was all beginning to feel rather odd. "Galadriel, do you know where everyone is?" you questioned her, unable to hide the nerves in your tone. "Yes. This way." she answered, shooting you a quick glance of her crystal blue eyes. You couldn't wait to get lost in them again. Lost in her. A handful of minutes later, you could see your fear in the distance. Stood in the town square ahead, covered in sparse beams of sunlight that had burst through the clouds, were the citizens of Pelargir. Every. Single. One. The crowd was too large for it to be anything less. Your breathing hitched in your throat and you clung tightly to Halbrand. Not only were you going to convince a few dozen people, you were going to convince all of them.

Upon approach, you noticed five familiar faces front and centre in the massive group: Bronwyn, Arondir, Theo, Olwenna, and Padrig. The five people you needed to win over the most. The five that would no doubt be the hardest to convince. You stopped only a few metres from them, not getting too close, the rage of the crowd feeling like the surface of the sun. You locked eyes with Olwenna in that moment, facing your fear head on. The kind and understanding woman you knew her to be was gone. Her face was one you almost did not recognise, for it was twisted in her mourning and her anger. The lady's beautiful auburn tresses billowed out behind her, the wind flicking them like the flame upon a candle. Her eyes were as red. You felt a tear fall fast down your cheek, but this show of emotion did not quell her, for her sympathy for you had fled.

Bronwyn began her argument against you by announcing your names to the masses, as if she was reading a decree from a parchment. Though she refused to call either of you king or queen. This, both you and Halbrand, did not like. "It seems we have been premature in our celebrations. Information has come to light that leaves us, the people, with no choice but to renounce you both as our royal leaders, and offer up a vote to either exile you… or execute you."

You could feel the fury rising within Halbrand, and you tugged on him reasurringly, trying to ground him, to keep him from losing this battle before he has a chance to defend himself. Sauron or no, it was rather difficult for him to loosen his pride. He took a deep breath before answering Bronwyn. "I should have you locked up for sedition, Lady Bronwyn. This is a most disppointing sight. How is it your loyalty could falter so easily?" "Because of me." Suddenly Halbrand was ripped away from you, the force of which caused you to stumble. Once you found your footing, you looked upward and across at a scene you did not believe.

Galadriel was holding your dagger to Halbrand's throat.

It appeared now that the she-elf had been the lure on the hook, not Bronwyn. They had known your brothers had been listening. "Galadriel… what are… what are you doing?" The question could barely pass your lips. The she-elf did not answer you, not even her piercing eyes contained the reasoning for what she was doing now. All you saw in them was conviction laced with sorrow. Bronwyn spoke on her behalf. "After I witnessed the cruel murder of that poor man at your hands, after I had seen to it that my only son would survive, I spoke with Galadriel. I knew she was conflicted about which side she should fall on. Should she remain true to her intentions and kill you both? Or should she lend you the chance to be our king and queen and save the Southlanders? I… I was regretfully adamant, and admitted my mistakes. I had been blinded by the love for my people that I did not see… the monsters on our doorstep.

"I told her about what I saw. She then told me about what she had seen. That helpless village… they could have united with us peacefully, we could have brought them to see the cause that you claim!" Bronwyn was letting her temper best her, and she paused a moment to regain her resolve, stepping towards Halbrand who was not struggling against the she-elf's grip. "Galadriel told me… the nefarious means by which you attained the title of our king…" Bronwyn spoke those words so low they were almost a whisper. "That you seek only power… and nothing will stop you from gaining it." "Bronwyn, please-" you tried to interject, but the lady would not have it.

"You are Sauron. You are allied with Morgoth. You brought the mountain down upon our home." her voice trembled as she spoke. "These are things we cannot forgive!" Crying out these words, the roar of the people behind her was deafening. The contrast was sharp between your arrival in Pelargir and the scene before you now. Your heart ached as you remembered how joyous the crowd had been as they had welcomed you, and celebrated the impending nuptials between the king and the queen. Yet now their cries were maddening, filled with ferocity, betrayal, and vengeance. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, in just a handful of days.

Perhaps you both deserved this reckoning. You had thought Garion striking you down would be your retribution, but it seems it was only the beginning, only leading to this moment. You moved your gaze from Bronwyn with her impassioned and angry face, to Galadriel, as you attempted to understand exactly why she had betrayed you. When only this morning you were naked with her, holding her in your arms, relishing in her touch and that of the warm water of the bath. You had been absolutely certain that she was allied with you once more, that her love for you, her love for Halbrand meant her allegiances were secured. Why would she give herself over to you both if she was going to take it all back, or never meant any of it in the first place? Or perhaps, this new development was something she had not intended. She had been gone all day after all, only returning to you when it was necessary for the uprising to take hold.

Galadriel's face broke the moment her eyes locked with yours. It had been an expression of steel, of her vengeance returning, matching the violence of her holding Halbrand at knife point. Though when your eyes connected, she found it rather difficult to keep herself together. Her lips trembled, and water began to pool around her blue irises. Was this regret she was wearing now? Did she not wish to be holding your dagger, holding your love's life in her hands? Perhaps this might be the way to get through to her, and through to them all, for if Galadriel topples, then the rest of the people would be sure to follow.

Casting your vision upon your husband now, he was oddly calm, acting almost as if this was a minor inconvenience to him that would soon be sorted out. This was the mask he wore, the veil he put up to show that he would not be affected by any attempts to thwart him or his rule. Because you knew underneath how he truly felt. He was fearful, disheartened, and most definitely filled with ire. Halbrand was giving a remarkable performance, lest he give into his emotions which would only lead to his darkness escaping. He had to do everything within his power to prevent that from happening. And so did you. For if either of you lost the battle within, then you would have no chance of winning the battle without.

"Release me, elf, so that I might explain myself." Halbrand requested, ready to fight with words. Galadriel did not budge, tightening her grip it seemed, and you swore you could see a small droplet of blood exit the throat of your love. "Do as he asks, Galadriel." spoke Arondir finally, wise enough to know he might be the only one with whom she would comply. Reluctantly of course, she loosened herself from him, but remained close, dagger at the ready. Halbrand stared into Bronwyn's eyes deeply as he spoke.

"The eruption of Orodruin was a plan that I conceived, yes. Hundreds of years ago. In that time, my desires have shifted greatly." He began to pace in front of the crowd slowly, casting his eyes upon all who dared to look at him. "The words I spoke to you all during yesterday's feast… I meant every single one. For in the freedom I have found since the defeat of Morgoth, I have only desired to make right the wrongs I committed. So when the opportunity presented itself to rule over these lands… I took it as a sign. As a chance to heal this world. And to not take it would be cruel.

"The fire from the mountain rained down upon you all not because of me, or my wife, your queen… but because of your enemy. My enemy. Adar and his orcs have now claimed the remade Southlands as their own home. They are the ones who have stolen your lands from you. Their undertaking was not my hope for you. Nor do I wish to see your lives taken by their swords. I fought with you, defended you, lead you to victory because it is what you deserve. And it is only the beginning of what we will achieve together if I remain your king."

Olwenna surged from where she stood, Padrig unable to hold her back. She walked briskly towards Halbrand, and struck him hard across the cheek. He flinched just the right amount, for you doubted her strength would be enough to truly take him aback. The king placating one of his subjects for her satisfaction, which he would hope, might lead to his satisfaction later on. "You murdered my husband!" she screamed at him, her whole body shaking as she did so. "How could you?!"

In this moment, without hesitation, the words passed your lips in an instant. "Because he was going to kill me!" You stepped forward then, standing now between your love and your friend. Defending him as he had defended you. Olwenna's face contorted with rage and confusion as your words hit her ears. "No… do not lie to me again, my friend." she spat venomously at you. "This is not possible." "Why else would we have to harm him?" you urged her as she seethed silently, shaking her head.

"Show her the proof, my love." Halbrand suggested calmly from at your back. The wound to your skull had not yet healed fully, and would now, it seems, be key evidence in this terrible trial. You gently removed your crown from atop your head, parting your hair to reveal the gash in your scalp caused by Garion's blunt attack. Your eyes darted between both Olwenna and Bronwyn as they studied the wound, their mouths agape. "An orc could have done that. Easily." argued Bronwyn, not wanting to admit she was wrong.

"What do my eyes tell you, Olwenna? You know me, you sense my spirit… am I lying to you now?" Tears were fighting against your will, and you held them back as long as you could so as to stare down the red-headed woman. You did not blink, and nor did she, and you watched as it dawned on her. Clasping her hands over her mouth, she tried to hold back sobs, but to no avail. Padrig rushed to her side, and she threw herself on the young man, her grief taking hold once more. With her eyes no longer on you, you let your own tears manifest, feeling them spill over and down to the ground.

Wiping them away with your plum coloured sleeves, you placed your diadem back on your head, before stepping beside Halbrand, locking your fingers tightly with his. Surveying the faces of your people now, you saw them becoming torn. It was working. They were doubting what Bronwyn and Galadriel had told them. They were starting to believe in their king and queen once more. You even looked to Azrahin and Târikun, taking in their hopeful expressions. Feeling her people being swayed, Bronwyn threw out her final attempt to depose and dispose of you and Halbrand. "Galadriel… you know the depths of Sauron's deceit, cunning, and devastation more than any here… I now give you the chance to do what you should have done days ago… claim your vengeance."

Bronwyn stepped back beside Arondir and Theo, giving Galadriel space enough to size you both up if she needed to. The she-elf entered your vision, her back to you as she spoke to the citizens of Pelargir, her lengthy blonde locks, still slightly damp, swaying lightly in the wind against the dark turquoise fabric she wore. "I see the doubt upon all of your faces. It is the same doubt that weighs heavy on me. The choice we need to make is a burden we should not have to bear, but we bear it not only for ourselves, but for our children, and their children, and their children. And we pray that they shall never have to be faced with a choice as imperative and difficult as this.

"When I arrived in your small city days ago, I had only one goal, one objective that I desperately desired to achieve. It was the force that swept me from my elven realm, drove me to the ends of Middle-earth over this age, a force that saw all with only one eye. But since that time when my blade was prevented from ending the life of Sauron, my other eye has opened and now together they both see a view all encompassing. The good and the evil. The light and the dark. Love… and hate." Galadriel turned to face you and Halbrand then, stepping slowly towards you both. "This is what I see in you." Her head slowly moved from Halbrand, to you, and back again. "And it is what I see in myself. You have both made your choice. Now it is time to make mine."

You could only look at her and nothing else. The entire world melted away. Galadriel cast her eyes upon you, smiling softly. A great calm washed over you, her presence soothing you, and you managed a smile back, letting a deep breath work its way through your body. Her love for you emanated outward from her heart, her very spirit, and you drank it in, letting it sustain you. You felt at peace. Finally. It was a magical sensation. Everything was going to be alright, you were sure of it now.

Though something changed very quickly. The air was invaded by an unshakable sense of dread. Galadriel blinked, and you watched tears trickle down her soft cheeks. Suddenly the smile struggled to stay on her face. The next words she spoke trembled as they passed her lips, as if they were forcing their way out of her. "I choose the light. It is my destiny. As it is yours." she paused, not wishing to finish her thoughts. Shifting her gaze to Halbrand, she raised a hand to his face and gently caressed it. A moment passed, though it was a moment that felt like an eternity. "And we must save this Middle-earth."

You saw what she was going to do before she had the chance to do it. A queen must protect her king. In the blink of an eye, you forced yourself between your two loves, just as your dagger in Galadriel's hand moved to strike. Your breath hitched and your body burned painfully as the weapon penetrated you. The she-elf's eyes went wide, as shock rippled through her. Despite the near unbearable ache you were now feeling, you were able to smile at her, and placing both your hands on her exquisite skin, you pulled her towards you in a kiss. Your lips clung to hers with all your might, trying to communicate all you could about how you felt in this moment. To reassure her this was okay. That you still loved her and could never hate her.

Now you knew how your victims felt with your blade buried deep inside your flesh. The justice their ghosts must feel at the notion of it. Releasing her from your tender touch, you cast your eyes downward to see the sight you knew was there. For you had already seen it. The same image your mother had shown you, Galadriel's hand on your bloody hilt, the blade hidden within you, blood gushing from your gut. The meaning of your mother's vision resonated in your mind, as it had now come to pass. The warning you did not heed.

Suddenly, Halbrand was screaming like you had never heard, the realisation of what had just occurred hitting him like a tidal wave. A mournful cry, filled with inhuman desperation that projected itself loudly for all to hear. Losing the ability to stand, you collapsed on the ground beneath your feet, Halbrand falling down with you, keeping your head from connecting with the damp pavement. He was cradling you, holding you tight, as if to tether you to this world, to assure you would never leave it. You looked up at him in his anguish, tears running fast down his face, landing on your cheeks. Galadriel fell to her knees before you, crouching at your feet, her expression almost one of complete catatonia. Azrahin and Târikun ran to your side, clasping your right arm and hand, their sobs entering the air. You were surrounded by your family, by the people you loved. Knowing this, your peaceful feeling returned, as each second that passed ticked towards your last.

"Someone do something!" called out Azrahin urgently. "Please!" Of all the hundreds of people in the town square that day, not one of them did a single thing to save you, accepting your fate. "Bronwyn! Please help her!" begged Târikun. You glanced down at your fatal wound, the daggers hilt protruding skyward, blood continuing to flow freely from you. Slowly turning your head to your brothers, you offered them solace. "There is nothing that can be done… the blood… its too much…" you spoke between coughs. Now you felt the metallic taste of it on your tongue. "It's okay."

"No… sister… we are not losing you…" cried Azrahin, trying to change your fate with his words. You could only cough in response, small dropets of blood landing on your lips. Halbrand stroked your face gently as he gazed down sorrowfully at you, his own sobs taking control. "My love.. why did you do that? Why did you do that?" he cried uselessly, as if the answer would put things right. "I didn't need saving…"

"Yes you did… it's all I wanted to do… save you…" you uttered softly with a smile, feeling yourself growing lightheaded… weaker. Halbrand managed a laugh somehow. "You saved me long ago, my love… it was supposed to be my job to save you." "And you… and you did." you coughed again and felt your blood trickle out from your mouth. Your love bit down on his bottom lip to prevent his sobs from controlling him once more. "This… this is not how it was meant to be… you're supposed to stay by my side… my queen… my wife… I'm not ready… I'm not ready to be without you."

Raising your left hand to cup his tear stained face, he closed his eyes in his sadness, attempting to savour the touch of you whilst he still could. Then you let it move down, and using the last of your strength, you held it firmly over his heart. "Such music as this will never end." you whispered with a faint smile, and Halbrand quickly returned it, before placing his lips upon yours in one last kiss.

Your eyes did not open again.

Tagging: @denzit @heronamedhawks @pursuitseternal @coraleethroughthelookingglass @hikarielizabethbloom @restless-tides @imjustsuperweird @vaguelyvibin @gil-galadhwen

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 10.2

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: The wall breaks.

Tags: manipulation, mentions of blood, smut, cream pie, fingering, sauron needs a therapist he is unwell, wall sex, obsession, sauron pov,

Notes: you sluts convinced me. I'm very proud of this one, especially the first part. As always I love your feedback.

He splashed the water over his face, mind reeling back to hours earlier. He hoped his ruse with the blacksmith worked. Yes, he wanted a job and a fresh start. At least part of him did, the part that didn't seek to take over the world and force every race under the sun to their knees. But he also knew where you'd be. Of course he did. He could sense you anywhere. You'd never be able to hide from him. The sight of you with the boy made his blood boil, but it all served a purpose. To make you doubt. To make you think. To convince you, he felt nothing real for the elf. Nothing like he felt for you.

That wasn't a deception. He didn't feel the same for her that he felt for you. She was a powerful ally and the best pawn he could have at his disposal. She intrigued him, but in a different way than you did. She had such darkness in her, but she didn't acknowledge it. She was beautiful, of course. But you were different in ways that he dare not think too much of. The wall he has built in his mind was too strong to allow his mind to wander to what his feelings for you meant, where the deception ended, and his truth began.

The knock drew him from his thoughts, and he made quick work of dressing himself. He couldn't help but smirk. It was you, of course it was, and it meant that his plan had worked. In a moment, his face changed as he opened the door.

“When did you get back?”

The sound of your voice started a chorus inside his soul. The miniscule part of him that could feel love and affection and joy and hope came alive. Morgoth convinced him it was the weak part of him. Morgoth had worked endlessly to destroy that. Sauron could almost believe it was gone until he looked into your eyes, and it ravaged him, shaking his being and willpower and fighting against everything he knew and believed.

“Early this morning, before sunrise.” He spoke softly. Your silence was thick in the air. Perhaps he needed to do more.

“Sweet one, I am sorry for what happened before. I ..-”

“Do you love me?”

What?

No.

He didn't.

He couldn't.

He wasn't capable of it.

Inside his mind, the carefully constructed wall began to crack.

Do you love me?

The words rang in his ears, getting louder and louder until it was all he could think. His mind could not break free. There was no manipulating or deceiving his way out of this. His consciousness would no longer let him deny it.

He couldn't lie to you. Not truly. Not without regret. The lies he spoke to you were like needles coming from his throat and spilling from his tongue, gashing and cutting him before spilling past his lips. He could not lie to you.

Why?

He could not look you in the eyes and think of bringing you harm. He had tried. How many times on that raft had he thought of drowning you in the sea. Or stabbing you. He could imagine his body acting the movements. He could see it in his mind's eyes, but he could never do it. He could never harm you. He couldn't even make something else bring you harm.

Why?

You made him think of home. Of song and light and love. Of a time before time when everything was peaceful and quiet. Your touch brought him a warmth he had not felt in time unimaginable.

Why?

Why did he have to protect you? Why did he seek you out every moment of every day? Why did 3 days apart from you feel longer than the thousands of years he spent as sludge in a cave?

Why did you make him wonder? Wonder about the future, about his morality, about his redemption. About the mystery of if Maia and mortals could ever have children. Why did you make him think of a family?

Why was your mere presence so utterly groundbreaking to who he had become that it felt like an apocalypse had come over his very soul?

“Halbrand, do you love me?”

Your voice tore him from these thoughts, and looking at you, he knew. He knew.

And in that knowing he feared. He feared what he could do to you. He feared what others could do to you. He feared his old master long dead.

He feared because it was true.

He feared because he loved you, and he could no longer keep it hidden from himself.

“I do.”

He was not prepared for when you sprung on him, and he couldn't gather the willpower to hesitate. He had felt lust before, for others of his kind and for a select few elves, but what he felt for you transcended the physical. You tasted sweet, of course you did, and he couldn't help the groan that rumbled in his throat. His fingers dug into the plump flesh of your cheeks as if afraid you'd move away.

He had longed for this moment, it seemed for an eternity, but he knew that was not the case. He broke the kiss, holding your chin in his grasp as he kept your face away from him. He could not just take you. He had to know if you wanted him too. He craved it. And if you didn't want him, he would wait until you did.

“Sweet one,” his voice was deep and rough, looking down at you. You looked so pure and so innocent. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“I want this. I want you.”

You spoke with no hesitation. There was not even a moment. What he thought about in the quiet of the night with his cock grasped in his hand, the lewd sounds he'd only imagined you making, it was all about to become a reality.

“Fuck,” he groaned and made quick work of pulling you into his room. He pushed you against the door, knee between your legs and lips bruising yours. He could feel your arousal on the cloth of his pants, his tongue slipping inside of your mouth. You tasted so sweet. So pure. So good. He could never be sated.

Your skin felt soft in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded all of you. Your stomach. Your thighs. Your ass. Your breasts. The feel of your skin would be an invisible tattoo etched into his hands until the stars rained from the skies.

It was him who whined when you pulled away. He was desperate for more. His forehead rested against yours as he watched you. Your lips swollen and red, he could taste your spit on his tongue, and he needed more of you.

But only if you wanted him too. Only if you needed him to. The devastation of his love for you had been immense. He could not imagine the havoc your rejection would cause. One hand gently rested at the base of your neck to direct your eyes to him, his thumb softly caressing your skin.

“Tell me to stop, sweet one, and I will.”

You looked up at him, and his breath caught in his throat. How could anyone compare to you?

“I am yours.”

Oh, sweet one.

You did not know what you spoke. You did not know who you were saying this. He had selfishly claimed you, but in this moment, he felt almost broken because you did not deserve him.

“Do not say words when you do not know the weight of them, sweet one.”

“I am yours.” And suddenly you were leading his hand under your dress and to your soaked underwear. He had to grit his teeth to stop his eyes from rolling back. He doesn't dream, but he had dreamed of this. It was slick and wet and hot. And you smiled at him.

Fuck.

He did not care about his deception in this moment. He would fill you with his corruption, his darkness until it flowed from you like a fountain. Until it dripped in pools at your feet.

He moved his fingers against your clit, softly and slowly, “Has anyone touched you like this?” His voice was thick with desire.

You shook your head, but that was not good enough for him. He gently squeezed your throat, and he felt the blood that surged under his touch. One day, he would carve his name into your flesh, and he would lap at the blood that flowed from the wound.

“Use your words,” he mumbled softly.

“No, only you.”

Only him.

He slid his finger inside of you, relishing the sound it made. The wetness and slick on his fingers made him want to taste you, but he couldn't, not tonight. He knew he would spend forever in between your thighs, and he did not have the time for that.

“Fuck, do you hear that?” His finger moved faster, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. “My sweet one,” he cooed, “fucking soaked at the thought of my cock, huh?”

He breathed heavily, his cock was achingly hard. He was addicted to the feel of your cunt and the sounds it made as he fucked it. The way you backed against his palm, the blissed out look in your eyes, he watched it all intently. He added a second finger and as your lips parted, he hungrily tasted your mouth once more. It was sloppy and wet, his teeth tugging at your lips. He couldn't get enough. Grunts and groans and growls ripped through him as he fucked you with his fingers harder and deeper. His lips trailed to your neck, licking your salty skin and sucking until your skin turned red.

You belonged to him.

You whimpered and gasped, and he needed more of it. He gently rubbed your peaked nipple and that was enough. You were a squirming mess as you came, soaking his hand.

“That's it, that's my girl,” he mumbled softly, his fingers never ceasing. “C'mon sweet girl. Fuck, look at you. Look at that pretty fucking face.”

He watched you intently as your body relaxed and your head hit the door. “That was incredible,” your voice was soft and spent.

He chuckled, his thumb coaxing you to look at him. “Pretty girl, look at me.” You did as he told you, his hands cupping your face. You were so pretty. So beautiful. Especially now, exhausted from how hard you came.

“That's my girl,” he squeezed your cheeks in his hand. “My pretty fucking girl. I need you to look at me, okay, and I need you to be honest. There is nothing more I want right now than your cunt squeezing around my cock but I need to know you want that too.”

“Yes, Halbrand, please.”

And that was all it took.

It was a blur as he moved clothes to the side but the moment his cock slid inside you, any moral dilemma or internal conflict disappeared. Only you mattered. Only how perfect your cunt wrapped around him was important. He held your face so he could watch how you reacted to him and he could tell from your lidded eyes and flush face you felt it all too.

"Fuck,” his breath hitched.“Fuck. Does my cock feel good, sweet one?”

You nodded, but again, that wasn't enough. He needed to hear your voice say it, “No, no, no. Use your words. Let me hear it.”

“Your cock feels good,” you breathed out.

Hearing you say that made his cock twitch inside of you. “Such foul words from such a pretty mouth.” His thumb traced your bottom lip. “I'm going to move now.”

You nodded before catching yourself, “please.”

One day, he'd have to make you beg for him.

He looked down to where your bodies connected and moved, watching his cock fuck your cunt for a moment before his attention turned to you. Your eyes rolled back and lips parted like a cock drunk slut already. His cock drunk slut. The slick sounds filling the room pulled his attention back to where you two met. The way you stretched around him was intoxicating to watch.

“You're taking my cock so well, sweet one.” He kept moving, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

Your hips moved to match his thrusts and the fingernails in his skin. You had broken so easily. Given into him so easily. He knew he could take you wherever, knew by the look on your face that you'd be his to fuck whenever he pleased.

“You're mine,” he whispered. “This my fucking cunt, isn't it?”

“My cunt is yours,” you whined.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He thrusted deep and hard, watching your face. You were his. His alone. No one could have you. No one could dare. He'd burn the world to the ground and everyone with it. He'd drown the world in blood. No sin was too dark for him to commit, not if he ended back here. Deep inside you.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and he couldn't have that. He roughly squeezed your cheeks until your eyes opened.

“Eyes on me. Focus on the feeling. I want to see how good I make you feel. Look at those pretty eyes. Those. Pretty. Fucking. Eyes.” He gasped, his grip on your face tight. You whimpered and arched into him.

Something about how you looked at him in that moment, he realized you owned him. He was yours. No one else's. No elf. No Maiar. There was only you. You were his religion, and this was his worship. He was yours. You owned him. He was ruined for anyone else. Perhaps you were not made for him, but he for you.

“You feel that cock, huh? It's yours, only yours. This is your cock, sweet one. I am yours.”

He could tell you were close, and he was too. How he wished it was his true name falling from your lips. He fucked into you harder and harder.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered, “tell me you love me, and I will come undone.”

He needed it. He needed the release. He was desperate.

“I love you.”

It was music to his ears. Moments later, when your cunt clenched around him and cries ripped through your body, he was soon to follow. His head buried in your neck as his warmth coated you. Your name passed through his lips. He would never be sated. He would always need this.

And later that night, long after you fell asleep, as he caressed your face, he knew he could never go back across the sea. He would stay here with you and prove his redemption to the valar. That he would start a family with you. That he would make you happy. The only thing that mattered more was keeping you safe.

Nothing mattered more than that.

[notreallythatlost]

IF YOU BLED

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!elf!reader

summary: you fell in love with halbrand because he was everything you ever wanted. but you didn't know who he really was. not until now.

warnings: angst, reader gets disappointed (i mean it’s sauron??) but wants to give in to the darkness

word count: 1.4k

note: here i am, writing another fic about our beloved dark lord. i listened to a song y’all might know and let myself just go with it. this is how it turned out and i really hope you like it. xx ps: there’s a second part. 🙂‍↔️

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

You already knew that you would fall deeply in love with him when you first saw him.

He was beautiful.

His soft lips and his hands that felt so perfect in yours. And there were these little wrinkles that formed at the edges of his eyes whenever he smiled.

But it was his green eyes that managed to cast a spell on you. They were so deep that it seemed almost impossible to ever let go again.

With each passing day, you could see more in him. The lost king who would never stop fighting until his last breath. With every second, you began to understand him more and fell in love with the idea that he could save you. From the pain that had happened to you in your past and the pain that would await you in the future.

You always felt a little less broken by his side.

And when Galadriel found out who he really was, everything you should feel was contempt. But you could never hate him. It was too late for that.

There was only the pain of not telling you the truth himself. All he had said to you was an illusion for what you had most desired. It had never been real.

“Have you been listening to me?” Galadriel’s voice tears you away from your thoughts. “Halbrand is not who you thought he was! He deceived you, he deceived us all,” she says and waits for your reaction. But all you can do is to look at her.

Memories started to play before your inner eyes. Of what had happened and dreams of what you wished would happen.

Above all, Halbrand, who touched you in a way that no one ever had before. In every possible way.

You can still feel his warm breath on your skin and his fingers gently stroking the fabric of the dress on your hip while he stands behind you.

His voice, just a gentle breath in your ear and the goosebumps it causes on your body.

His promise to take away the darkness inside you.

His lips gently dancing over your neck and making you sigh.

And the following kiss that set everything inside you ablaze. The harbinger of a fire that could burn down all of Middle Earth.

“No…” the word comes out in a whisper and you shake your head as a tear runs down your cheek.

Before Galadriel can say anything else, you turn away from her and leave the room to run up the steps of the tower to the top where the forge is located.

Your eyes immediately fall on Celebrimbor, who is looking down at something with a smile. Elrond is standing next to him and looks less thrilled, his gaze first on you, then back to the stone table.

You step closer and now you can understand why Elrond's gaze is so serious.

There were three rings lying there, each one more beautiful than the other. You are drawn to them as if by magic, you can no longer look away.

“They are... beautiful.” You slowly stretch out your hand, wanting to touch one of them, when Elrond clears his throat.

Your gaze wanders upwards and you see him shaking his head. It was a silent warning which makes you lower your hand again.

Galadriel slowly enters the forge behind you and also comes closer. “I can't believe it actually worked,” you hear her say, but your attention remains on the rings.

They sparkle in the light of the slowly setting sun and remind you of the glow in his eyes.

You hear Galadriel and Elrond talking to each other, but you don't understand them. It was if they were far away from you. All you can think about is Halbrand and the pain he left behind in you. As well as the never ending longing in your heart.

The desire to finally surrender to the darkness, now that it threatens to devour you from all sides.

Only when your name is mentioned and Galadriel puts her hand on your arm, you are torn from your thoughts.

You pull away from her touch, shaking your head and you see the pain in her eyes. But you don’t care about it, just as she doesn’t seem to care about yours.

“I... have to go. Don't try to stop me,” you say quietly and look one last time at Elrond and Celebrimbor, who are both frowning worriedly, then you turn around and run down the stairs again.

You don’t see that Galadriel tries to follow you, but Elrond stops her. He seems to know, that you needed to be alone now.

When you get downstairs, you hurry through the hall that is still lit by the last rays of the sun. You wanted to get away from there as far as possible.

But you stop at the sound of a voice. It is his voice, no doubt about it. You slowly turn around as he steps out from behind a pillar.

He looks different than the last time you saw him, but still so beautiful. Your gazes meet and it takes your breath away, just like always.

All you can do is to watch, as he comes closer. But when he holds out his hand to you, you flinch away.

He immediately frowns until he seems to understand and a certain hardness flashes in his eyes. “So Galadriel told you?” he asks.

You nod slowly and look him in the eyes to find out what he must be feeling, but he doesn't let you in.

“You should have told me yourself, Halbrand,” you begin, looking him dead in the eyes. “Oh wait, that is not your name, right?”, you add, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

But no matter how strong your disappointment is, you know, that you could never escape his darkness. Not now that you know, that this darkness also lives in you. Not when he holds your heart in his hands.

Halbrand holds your gaze and takes another step towards you. This time you don't back away. Not even when he carefully separates your arms. “And what would it have changed if you had known?” he asks with a rough voice and looks down at you.

“It would have simply changed everything. Because you would have never deceived me like you did,” you answer and you can hear your own desperation in your voice. “All of that was an illusion of what I always wanted. And you used that against me. You used me. It was all a lie,” you add with a whisper and you can't hold back another tear.

Halbrand raises one of his hands to your face and catches the tear with his thumb. He smears it on your skin as he strokes your cheek, watching as it glistens in the sunlight.

He looks at you with a gentle gaze, even a little desperate. As if your words touch him deeply.

As suddenly footsteps sound behind you, he gently pulls you into the shadows, the part of the hall that is no longer lit by the sun.

You feel the cold stone wall at your back and resist the urge to lean into his touch.

“You're wrong,” Halbrand finally says and you look him in the eyes again. “I never lied to you. I was just not completely honest about one thing...” he pauses and slowly moves his face closer to you. “I never intended to take the darkness from you. I wanted you to surrender to it,” he finally breathes against your lips and you close your eyes.

His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you closer to his body. “I wanted you to surrender to me,” he adds, his mouth now on your ear.

You can't help but shiver as his breath brushes over your neck, causing goosebumps on your body. But instead of kissing you there, he pulls away from you again and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“As much as I would like you to do it right now, this is not the right time,” Halbrand whispers and you begin to understand.

“You're not really here, am I right?” Just then you notice the blood on the right corner of his mouth. It hadn't been there before.

Suddenly he seems completely different, as if he was dropping his facade. His face is dirty and his clothes have seen better days too. You put your hand gently on his cheek and caress the blood with your thumb.

“What has happened? Where are you?” you ask quietly and raise your gaze to look into his eyes, but there is secrecy in them. He wouldn't tell you.

“Please, Halbrand, tell me where you are. Let me come to you,” you say, but he shakes his head and takes your face between his hands.

The look in his eyes leaves no room for protest and you know you wouldn’t resist him. You never could.

“No. You will stay in Eregion. I will find my way back to you, i promise.” Those are the last words you hear, then you find yourself alone in the hall again, surrounded by complete darkness.

And you are more than ready to drown in it.

PART TWO

[sansaorgana]

— SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!human(?)!Reader

SUMMARY — Lady Galadriel keeps convincing Halbrand and his wife to change their minds and go back to Middle-earth but Sauron is starting to realise that this new life might be his chance to start all over and redeem himself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As I warned, in this part Sauron is very ooc but I'm a sucker for happy endings... I couldn't picture it any other way with a mortal Reader tbh... 🤷🏻‍♀️ Although, whether she is really a human or not – I let you decide and interpret it whatever way you wish! 😉💝 The song The Reader sings in this part is called Lonesome Road and I know it from Joan Baez but I changed the lyrics a little so they could fit the fantasy world better.

WORD COUNT — 4,570

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

Even though he thought Halbrand's wife had given up on him already, it seemed to be quite otherwise. The guards came to Sauron in the early morning to tell him that he was free to go under a condition to never start any fight on the streets of Númenor ever again. Next time, the Queen Regent would not be so merciful. And now, she would even give him a chance to prove his worth and earn the guild crest.

Apparently, (Y/N) had spent nearly the whole night begging and pleading after getting an audience.

Free to go anywhere he wanted to, he simply decided to walk back to his new home and wait there for Lady Galadriel to show up with the next idea or opportunity.

It was not going according to his plan – (Y/N) had made sure of it. But it was still going well enough and that was what mattered the most.

As he was approaching the house, he heard a familiar voice singing a song as the sound travelled through the open windows and out into the streets. The voice perhaps was not the most talented but it was not awful either and he found it oddly soothing to listen to.

Slowly and quietly, Sauron walked inside the house and leaned on the wall with crossed arms as he watched (Y/N) with a smirk. She had her back turned on him and had no idea he was there as she busied herself with brushing her hair in front of a small mirror and preparing to go to her new work.

And while doing so, she was singing. Sauron listened with curiosity because he had missed many new songs in the time when he had been regaining his strength to go back to the world of living.

And he had never been familiar with the songs of common people anyway.

“They say all good friends must part sometime. Why not you and I, my Lord? Why not you and I?” (Y/N) sang softly. “Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never been born or died when I was a baby, my Lord… Or died when I was a baby,” she added and Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat.

He had no idea he would be able to see himself in a song written by commoners and yet, he sometimes wondered himself why the Valar had created him. And he often wished they had not. It would save him pain and suffering that he was not able to speak of.

“Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never seen your face, heard your lyin' tongue, my Lord… Heard your lyin' tongue,” (Y/N) kept going with the song as she put some rouge upon her cheeks. “You better look up and down that long, lonesome road where all of your friends have gone, my Lord, and you and I must go…” she continued humming and then she jumped up at the sight of him standing behind her with crossed arms. “Oi, Hal, I haven't seen ye. Forgive me, I know ye don't like it when I sing,” she got nervous in an instant.

“I don't?” Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Ye always say it's givin' ye headaches,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Anyhow, I'm off to work now,” she informed him with a sweet smile and approached him to place a kiss upon his cheek.

He let her but when she wanted to move away, he grabbed her wrists to keep her in place and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What have you done to free me, love?” He asked in a whisper.

“I begged and pleaded for ye, Hal,” she answered. “Told the good Queen ye're naught but a man who wants to work, with a pride that's hurt. I promised ye wouldn't get in trouble again. An' ye better not.” (Y/N)'s eyes filled with pain as if she knew already he would break the promise.

Because Halbrand most likely had broken such promises many times before and Sauron had planned that, too. But now, looking deep into her eyes, he suddenly wanted to change his mind. He did not want to be like Halbrand – he wanted to be a better version of him.

“I don't deserve you,” he admitted and caressed her cheek gently.

“Start, then,” she challenged him with a cracked smile and patted his chest before going out of the house.

And even though Sauron was tempted to stay inside and wait for Lady Galadriel to show up, he walked out as well and went to the forge nearby where he was supposed to start his own training to be able to earn the guild crest.

Humiliating it was and very humbling for the disciple of Aulë to be reduced to the role of a common smith's errand boy.

When Sauron was coming back from work, it was getting dark already. He was walking slowly down the steps and whistling the very same song he had heard earlier that day – the one Halbrand's wife had been singing.

In his hands he was carrying a few coins he had earned on that day and he was playing with them by tossing them in the air and catching them swiftly right after. As he approached the harbour, he spotted (Y/N) standing by one of the wooden tables and selling the goods to the people standing in the queue.

He wondered why she was left alone by the stand but assumed the woman working with her was having a break. And the closer to the market he was getting, the more he could see how stressed Halbrand's wife seemed to be.

“You useless woman, you can't even count properly, can you?!” Sauron heard some man's harsh words due to the fact his hearing was much better than if he was truly human.

“I-I'm sorry, I'm still learnin'. How much do I owe ye, then?” (Y/N) was trying to sound nice.

“You're good for nothing, stupid wench,” the man spat out. “Where is Bellona?”

“She had to leave earlier today. Please, it is no big deal. Let me just give you back the money and–”

“You should go back to Middle-earth where low women like you belong,” the man interrupted her.

Sauron didn't think much in that moment as the primal instincts took over him. He hid his coins away and hurried to (Y/N)'s stand as he grabbed the rude man by his tunic and turned him around.

“Are you bothering my wife?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hal!” (Y/N) squealed, looking nervously at the guards that were already coming their way after sensing trouble. “Let go of him, I beg ye! Ye promised me ye wouldn't–”

“Oh, but it's different, is it not? This man deserves it,” Sauron hissed out and when he was sure that (Y/N) kept glancing at the guards, he allowed his eyes to transform into two snake-like orbs that visibly terrified the rude man.

Sauron let go of his tunic the moment he heard the guards standing behind him and the man hurried away as quickly as possible.

“It's nothin', it's nothin'!” (Y/N) exclaimed at the guards. “I'm closin' for the day! Please, let us go.”

The men looked at each other but since the other man had run away and did not file any complaint, they just shrugged their arms and walked away alongside the rest of the people waiting in the queue.

“Ye promised!” (Y/N) gave Sauron a very scolding look as she busied herself with tidying up the stand and collecting the money.

“If you think I am going to let some bastard treat you this way, love, then you are mistaken. If I must rot in that cell for a lifetime, then I shall,” Sauron shrugged his arms and Halbrand's wife looked at him as if he had just said something crazy.

“Since when are ye so gifted with words, Hal?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyhow, in that cell, ye won't be 'round to protect me. Foolish, it'd be, but ye've never been the brightest, have ye?” she pointed out and Sauron gritted his teeth with an eye roll.

She kept blabbering to him about her day while they walked back to their house and even though it was a short road, it felt like forever due to her talking. However, Sauron was very surprised at the sight of Lady Galadriel sitting by the table when they entered the house.

He had been waiting for her to come and now he was shocked, nearly startled. As if he had forgotten already about his scheme.

“Oi!” (Y/N) put her hands on her hips. “Is it not illegal to sneak up on folk like that inside their own homes, Elf?!” She asked. “When'll ye leave us be, huh?”

“The Queen Regent agreed to gather the army. They will seek for the volunteers,” Galadriel announced. “People of Númenor might not need you, Halbrand, but when we arrive in The Southlands, a strong leader will be needed. Someone to unite and show the way.”

“Someone to lie, ye say,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and finally closed the door behind her. “But go on, Elf, keep talkin'. I'm sure my husband'll agree sooner or later. Vain as he is, always has been,” she sighed as if she was defeated.

Sauron felt an odd tug inside his heart at those words. Even though going with Galadriel to Middle-earth and continuing his plan while leaving annoying (Y/N) behind would be an ideal outcome… He felt challenged now to refuse Galadriel just to show (Y/N) that he could do better than that.

“I have already told the Queen Regent who you most likely are,” Galadriel insisted, ignoring Halbrand's wife and looking deep into his eyes.

“You must be desperate,” he pointed out with a smirk and watched his angry wife unpacking the groceries from her wicker basket on the kitchen counter.

“Of course I am. And you should be, too. It is about your home. Why do you give up on it so easily?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It gave up on us long before we ever gave up on it,” (Y/N) turned around to answer her.

“This land was your place in Middle-earth. It was giving you vegetables to eat, grass to feed your animals with, clean water from the rivers…” Lady Galadriel pointed out.

“And what do ye know about it, grand Elf?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at that. “It ain't easy work growin' yer vegetables an' keepin' yer animals alive. One bad winter's all it takes to take away yer loved ones, yer cows, horses, an' chickens. I've no love for that land,” she stated, harshly.

“You can change the fate of people who suffer like you have suffered…” Galadriel's voice softened. “As their Queen,” she tempted and Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised to see how dirty she could play.

Nearly as dirty as him.

“Me? A Queen?” (Y/N) laughed at that. “I can't even read!” She only said and turned around again to deal with the groceries.

“Halbrand, please. They need you,” Galadriel stood up and put her hand on his shoulder before lowering her voice. “I need you,” she added and looked down before leaving the house quietly.

Long silence occurred between Sauron and Halbrand's wife.

“Go with her,” (Y/N) muttered.

“What?” Sauron looked at her, surprised. She turned around to lay her wet eyes on him.

“I know ye want to. Just go, claim the title that's not yours, go on. But don't be stupid enough to think she'd ever want ye the way ye want her. Please, husband, don't embarrass yerself by thinkin' she'd want a filthy, ragged commoner,” (Y/N) whispered but in her voice there was no malice – it was pure worry and concern. Love.

“I'm not that stupid,” Sauron approached her with hesitance and put his hands on her arms to comfort her. “I know you're the only woman who is crazy enough to love me.”

“But is that enough to make ye stay?” She asked and her lower lip trembled.

He did not answer but he pulled her close to his chest to wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her head.

Sauron was laying awake all night long as usual, caressing the back of Halbrand's wife and staring at the ceiling. He knew they would gather the volunteers on the next day and he still was not sure what to do.

The path he had chosen for himself was not so certain anymore. He truly did not mind the life he had here in Númenor and even (Y/N)'s presence was becoming less and less annoying to him. In fact – even though she had no idea who he truly was – it felt oddly nice to be loved and taken care of. As simple as that.

He extended his hand to the nightstand and brushed the pendant laying there with his fingertips as he remembered the very first conversation he had had with the heraldry's original owner – Diarmid.

“A sure path may crumble, but there's always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there's a place across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life.”

What if it was a second chance for him? Not for Sauron, but for the real him – Mairon…? What if it was his chance to get redeemed? To be at peace finally as if all the suffering Morgoth had put him through had never taken place?

(Y/N) shifted slightly in his arms and he looked down at her face that was now lit up by the first rays of the rising sun getting through the window. At that moment, that common and simple woman looked like the most beautiful creature in the whole world to him. And she certainly felt like peace.

“Is it time to wake up now, love?” She mumbled out, sleepily.

“No, love, not yet. I will tell you when,” he assured her.

“Good,” she smiled and nuzzled her face deeper into him.

“(Y/N)?” Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat as he fidgeted with the pendant between his fingers.

“Hm?”

“What if I told you I was not your husband?” He tried to make it sound light-hearted as if he was jesting. “That I'm a spirit that took over his body at that time when he was away while the village was being attacked?” He looked down at her, nervously.

“Ye're crazy, Hal,” she chuckled and opened her eyes lazily. Then, she tilted her head and reached her hand up to caress his hair. “But, mayhaps, I'd believe that, ye know? 'Cause ye've changed a lot since then,” she admitted and hesitated for a moment as she bit on her lower lip. “It doesn't matter, love. I love ye the way ye are now – more than I've ever loved ye, even though I didn't think it was possible,” she confessed and Sauron felt his heart swelling inside his chest as he leaned down to join their lips together in a loving kiss.

As he watched the ships sail away on that day, Sauron couldn't believe that he was simply letting them go. He saw Lady Galadriel standing in her shining armour, holding her sword. She was still glancing at him as if she expected him to jump into the waters and join them no matter what.

He wondered why she was so drawn to him, even after (Y/N)'s big mouth had made it clear that he was not any forgotten king. Could Galadriel feel who he was, deep inside?

But who was he? He was not sure anymore.

So, he looked away and went back on the road that would lead him to the forge where he worked these days. He was told he would get his guild crest very soon because they were in awe of his extraordinary talents.

Not only talent was his quality, though. It was also how much he was able to work at once and without breaks. At least it had been this way until recently.

It was the first time ever when he felt… tired. In the simplest and most common way, he felt exhausted and his stomach seemed to demand to have a meal. He nearly fainted at the end of his shift and when he dragged his feet back home, he was yawning. Surely, it would worry him under any other circumstances but now he was simply too tired to overthink what could have caused it. Was it some sort of a curse put on him by angry Lady Galadriel?

“Halbrand!” (Y/N)'s worried tone brought him back to reality when he entered the house.

She hurried to him and cupped his cheeks with widened eyes.

“Love, ye're so pale, an' the bags under yer eyes… What happened?!”

“Nothing happened,” Sauron shrugged his arms. “I'm just tired, that's it. I nearly fainted,” he admitted and sat down on the chair, sighing out of relief to finally be able to rest a little.

“Well, that's no wonder! Ye've been eatin' half meals for weeks now!” Halbrand's wife pointed out in a scolding manner. “We're not starvin' anymore, Hal, ye don't have to keep givin' me yer portions!” She exclaimed and approached the stove to pour him a bowl full of soup. “Here, eat,” she ordered as she placed it in front of him.

And, for some reason, Sauron ate all of it in a blink of an eye. He even asked for one more portion as Halbrand's wife gave it to him gladly but not without more of her whining about him being irresponsible. Then he asked for another and after three bowls of her soup, he finally felt better.

His stomach was no longer hurting at least, but he was still sleepy.

“Go, take some rest, love,” (Y/N) shook her head. “Ye don't sleep enough, don't eat enough. At least ye're not drinkin' and gamblin' anymore, but ye can't go on like this. Do ye want to die before forty, Hal? I ain't lettin' that happen!” She continued with her usual whining and he rolled his eyes.

“How can I rest when you keep your mouth open?!” Sauron asked and she huffed but she went silent and left him alone in the bedroom as she went back to the kitchen to clean the bowl after his soup.

It was the very first time when Sauron fell asleep not out of boredom or the need of dissociation but out of exhaustion.

And when he opened his eyes again, it was the next morning already and (Y/N) was shaking him to wake him up.

“Halbrand! Ye're gonna be late for work!” She exclaimed.

“But… I'm still tired…” He mumbled out, not understanding what was happening to him.

“Like all of us working folk each mornin'!” (Y/N) laughed. “Come on, I'm not lettin' ye out without breakfast, go to the kitchen,” she hurried him and he rubbed his eyes before nodding at her.

Sauron began to suspect that he was turning into a human for some time now but it took an unusual revelation to convince him that it was truly happening indeed.

(Y/N) was grinning widely on that day when he came back home and she welcomed him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him all over his face as he tried to give back some of the kisses. When she finally stopped, she fixed his brand new guild crest and batted her eyelashes while looking up to stare into his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I think I'm expectin', Hal,” she told him, excitedly. “I wasn't sure but my friends at work said those are the very symptoms!” She added happily and he froze as he blinked slowly a few times, trying to process the new information.

“That is… Impossible,” he furrowed his brows.

“I used to think so, too. Married for so long with no babe of our own but I was wishin' and hopin' and here we are!” She clapped her hands like an excited child. “Perhaps it was that damned Middle-earth not being good for us, Hal, but here we can!”

Sauron took a deep breath in. She didn't understand – it was not about being fertile or not. It was about the fact he was a Maia and there was no possibility of him putting a baby in her without doing it with his own free will.

Unless…

“You're not sleeping around, are you?” He asked before he could think about the rubbish leaving his mouth.

(Y/N) froze at his words and her smile turned into a frown. She approached him at this very moment and slapped his face. Hard. He could feel it like any mortal would now and he admitted it truly hurt.

“How dare ye, Halbrand?! Ye wretched bastard! Even if ye meant to jest, that was uncalled for!” She raised her voice as he rubbed his cheek and winced out of pain.

“I'm sorry, love, I haven't thought before speaking. I just can't believe it…” He tried to excuse himself. “Please, forgive me.”

Her face didn't look so angry anymore but she didn't say anything and turned around without a word to walk away.

In fact, she didn't say a word to him for the rest of the day and only at night when she was deep asleep, he dared to touch her abdomen slightly with his hand.

He wasn't able to feel any presence there but these days he couldn't feel anything, to be honest. He couldn't hear nor see as much either. He was losing his abilities as time was passing.

Sauron kept his hand there, on the belly of Halbrand's wife, and he sighed. It was happening, whether he liked it or not. And he was not even sure anymore if he wanted it or not.

As he got lost in the train of thought, he realised that he had been caressing (Y/N) abdomen all that time without thinking. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled gently at him.

“Hal, ye son of a bitch,” she shook her head and giggled as she took his hand carefully and brought it to her lips to place a few small and sweet kisses upon his knuckles. “I swear, ye're gonna be the death of me.”

“And you are going to be the death of me,” he chuckled and leaned in to peck her lips.

She was going to be. Literally.

This body would start growing old normally now and, eventually, he would pass away like every mortal. But maybe he would do that laying in a bed, holding her hand and surrounded by their children.

When they broke the kiss, (Y/N) smiled widely and caressed her husband's cheeks lovingly. She looked ethereal at that moment and a crazy thought appeared inside of his head.

“Tell me, love,” he started and she raised an eyebrow at him, “are you a spirit sent to me from Valinor to lead me back on the right path? Have I passed the test?” He dared to ask and he could swear, there was a small sparkle lighting up her eyes for a short while. But then, she only laughed.

“Go back to sleep, ye madman,” she patted his chest lightly and turned around while laughing softly.

He kept staring at her for some time more, then he went back to looking at the ceiling. And, eventually, he turned around as well to wrap his arm around the waist of Halbrand's wife.

His wife.

Halbrand was coming back from work slowly while playing with the little horse forged out of iron in his hand as he hummed a song. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon when he approached the harbour where (Y/N) was slowly tidying up her stand on the market.

Her own one, that she had earned finally and was so proud of it as she was working for herself now and was able to bring more money home.

He watched her tidy up with a loving smile and their son was helping her while talking to her excitedly about something – his mouth would never close just like his mother's.

“Daddy!” He spotted him finally and ran up to him as (Y/N) chuckled.

“Hey, little man,” Halbrand crouched down to give his son a hug. “How was your day?”

“It was good!” The boy nodded. “I helped mummy a bit. And yours, daddy?”

“I made this for you,” Halbrand handed him the little horse and the boys' eyes sparkled at the sight.

“So pretty! Thank you, daddy!” He wrapped his little arms around Halbrand's neck to give him another hug and Halbrand patted his back.

“And for me?! For me?!” He felt something tugging at his tunic and he laughed at the sight of his excited daughter. He gave her a hug, too and caressed her ruffled hair as she gave him a toothless smile.

“I have something for you, too, Princess,” Halbrand assured her and took another item out of his pocket – a seashell made out of iron.

He had made sure it was crafted with the best precision and with all the tiny details, therefore it looked nearly like a real seashell. Only it was silver, which made it even better in his little girl's eyes.

“Thank you, daddy!” She giggled as she squinted her eyes at the shell and kept examining it under every possible angle.

“You spoil 'em way too much!” (Y/N) stood above him and he stood up to greet her with a short peck on the cheek.

“Somebody has to,” Halbrand answered playfully and his wife shot him a glance, which made his son giggle.

“Stop sayin' nonsense and let's go back home,” she shook her head and walked away slowly.

He watched his children follow her happily and he did, too, but much slower as he stared at the sun setting on the horizon. The sky looked like a canva full of pink and orange hues and he took a deep breath in at the beauty of it.

It was nearly as peaceful and beautiful as back in the day in Valinor. Mortals perhaps were not welcome there but, apparently, they could also experience wonders as marvellous.

And perhaps this whole life was built on a lie because he couldn't imagine telling (Y/N) the truth about who he truly was and that her real husband had been dead for years. That he had died because of gambling and drinking after leaving her alone when she was being attacked by the Orcs. There was no point in telling her even if she would somehow believe him. It would only bring her useless pain and he knew very well that her actual husband would most likely never do all these things he had done to make her happy. He would not love her right like he could.

“Ye comin', Hal?” His wife's voice brought him back to reality.

Halbrand nodded at her and joined her side to take his daughter by her little hand.

After all, it was not the sunset but her and her brother that were the real wonders. And it was not Númenor that he called home but it was them – they were his better place.

MASTERLIST

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

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.