#ive wrriten aaravos and you so many times they don't seem like real words anymore someone send help

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aaravos || memories

They couldn’t break you fully. Hurt you, and you would have simply waited until death. Killed you, and you would have simply moved onto the next life to meet with Aaravos. 

There was nothing you feared.

Or so you thought.

aaravos x gender neutral reader, angst, mentions of torture, >1.5k 

The cell was pitch black.

At first, you had liked that. It meant you could slip into dreamland, fool yourself into thinking you weren’t awake, weren’t alive, even.

That was before the memories began to attack you. They hurt. 

Dragged to your knees, head pulled back to watch as he was taken away, casted into a mirror dimension right before you. His eyes met yours one last time; a million years would never wipe that look from your mind.

The darkness meant that you couldn’t escape the memories. Darkness that had once been your friend, your lover. The time of stars in the night sky, scattered on his body.

It was then that you began to love the pitch blackness once more.

You could pretend that the crawling on your skin was not whatever vile creatures festered in the cell; no, it was his fingers trailing your arms, face, like he used to. Pretend that if you opened your eyes, you would wake to his starlit face, and not more nothingness. The cold grip on your wrists were his hands, not the chains.

Those thoughts took up a lot of energy. A lot of will. But you forced yourself to think them, forced yourself to live through the life before you had been caught over and over if only so that when you did finally die, you might not even notice it. You would awaken in the afterlife, wherever and whatever that might be, with him waiting there.

You had long accepted that you would die. No one came to see you. To give you food or water. How long had it been? 

You only wished for death to hurry.

The flame of hope; death. Oh, the irony. 

And when bright light flooded through the cell, your heart soared. You had arrived.

But it was not Aaravos’ face you were met with.

Instead, it was the face of another elf, eyes sharp and disgusted as they glared down at your form.

You had not died.

“You’re coming with us!”

“Hey, be more gentle--”

“You defending the freak?”

“No! If it dies, we’re in trouble, remember? Tch, idiot.”

“Be quiet! It’ll live. Humans always do.”

You did not want to. Could they kill you if you wished? You wanted to tell them that, but however long you had gone without water was too long; your throat was rawer and drier than the west of the continent.

Your heart began to pound weakly against your chest as they hauled you away from the dungeons. 

Whatever this was, there was no way they’d let you live freely and happily.

It was a trick. One you could not bring yourself to care about. If all they did was harm you, that would be fine. As long as they dared not to try pit you against Aaravos; as long as they dared not use you against him. 

You were taken to a large chamber. Candles hung suspended in the air, a circle of robed elves in the center, their faces cast in deep shadows. You were shoved into the midst of it all, too starved to try to move. 

It was fine.

You would accept whatever they did to you. 

It might have been the only way you’d die.

“Y/N of the humans. You, who conspired with the traitorous startouch elf, must now pay the price. You, who dared to steal magic from others, must now atone for your sins! Now!”

The elves lifted their arms, the robes hiding the candles from view.

You might have smiled. You might have been too weak to.

All you knew was that you were fine with whatever atonement they deemed necessary. They couldn’t break you fully. Hurt you, and you would have simply waited until death. Killed you, and you would have simply moved onto the next life to meet with Aaravos. 

There was nothing you feared.

“Obliviscatur te in unum. Obliviscatur te docuit ille qui. Obliviscentes in tenebris.”

Or so you thought.

“Obliviscatur te in unum. Obliviscatur te docuit ille qui. Obliviscentes in tenebris.”

No.

“Obliviscatur te in unum. Obliviscatur te docuit ille qui. Obliviscentes in tenebris.”

No.

You screamed, silently, internally, eternally.

No.

It couldn’t have been.

But it was.

It was it was it was. 

You were wrong. 

You feared one thing. 

A life without Aaravos. A life without memories.

Death would have been a thousand times favoured. A lifetime of torture better endured, if it meant you would return to his arms. 

Now, now...

You might have met him later. Might have found him again in that second life, waiting. No matter how agonizing the days. No matter how wrenching the loneliness. You would have waited.

Because you would have never forgotten.

Even as the seconds ticked by, your mind began to crumble.

Memories. Hundreds upon thousands of them. 

The first time you had seen the elf with the universe in himself. Your first meeting, the way he had raised an eyebrow at your antics. The day you had gathered enough courage to ask him to teach you magic in any way he could, knowing it was likely impossible, putting all your hope and faith in him. The relentless hours of study and spell-casting that never succeeded until that summer evening. You had pulled the magic out of the butterfly in front of you and had lit up his dark garden with a thousand lights. The moment the magic spilled out, the wondrous smile on his face as you both knew, in that moment, that anything and everything was possible.

Anything and everything.

Gone.

All...

Gone?

What

was

gone?

Your name was Y/N L/N. You were a human that woke up surrounded by a group of elves all glaring down at your frail, thin body underneath the sheets. If you looked, you would see your ribs poking out and the sharp shape of your legs.

Your head hurt. Your body did too. It alarmed you. Why were you in such a condition? Why were you in such a lavish sick room? Why were you surrounded by such noble elves? So many questions, and yet you were not the one doing the asking.

“Do you know how to do magic?”

You stared at the elf who spoke, blinking in confusion. “No...I’m a-a human. Why...why would I?” You cautiously answered, feeling like your life hung in those words.

The elves seemed to deflate in relief. But they did not move. You couldn’t understand why you were so attuned to their emotions. Like you knew all their signs.

The elf turned to the one next to them. “It’s all gone now. We can release it.”

“Are you sure?” The other one insisted. “What if it returns--”

“It won’t. Trust me on that.”

You didn’t understand what they were talking about. Had you been caught up in something? An attack? A conspiracy? 

You...

Didn’t care.

You had to return home. Someone was waiting. Someone...

Who?

Who was it that was waiting? Waiting in that room, decorated with stars...

You winced as a spark of pain lashed out from within your head. 

That’s right!

Your mother was waiting. Waiting at your home with her on the outskirts of the country. 

“If I may leave...” You began hesitantly, but with a firm determination. There was so much work to be done at home. Chores and studies. 

Studies of...

Studies of the farm work. You were to take over the farm once mother let you. You had to study how to do everything she did. 

That’s right.

The elf shook their head. “You must come with us first. It will only be a moment.”

You nodded. That was fine. As long as you returned home quickly enough. He didn’t like it when you were late.

He?

No, she. Mother. Mother didn’t like it when you were late.

You’re hefted from the bed in one smooth motion by a larger elf. 

The walk is hurried, but long. Passing the windows, you tried to catch a glimpse outside but you go too quickly. You swore there was smoke in the distance. You went down many flights of stairs, the lower it went, the darker it became. Your heart began to race when you recognised the dungeons. You passed a door that made you nauseous. You could not bear to look at it. It gave you bad vibes. 

Like...like you could not stand it.

Like something had happened there.

The elves stopped at the cell furthest in the dungeons, the door barricaded generously.

When they unlocked it, you’re met with the sight of an elaborate mirror, runes carved into the frame.

The mirror scared you.

But you did not know why.

You stared at your reflection, eyes wide. 

A shadow passed your face, but it made your head ache. You squeezed your eyes shut, and when you opened them, only your tear-stained face stared back.

Why...

Were you crying?

“Tsk. We’ll have to give it another go.”

“Are you sure about that? It may damage it permanently.”

“Do you want to risk it? Do you?” The sharp-eyed elf scoffed. “Asking me ‘are you sure’! Honestly, if I didn’t know better, you are on their side--”

“Of course not! How dare you think that?!”

“Enough. Don’t fight in front of it.”

You did not understand why they were so agitated. You did not understand why you were so emotional. Where did these tears come from? Where did this sea of emotion...

What sea of emotion?

You...

You didn’t feel anything.

What

was

there

to

feel?

The mirror. It must have been dangerous. It must be the one doing all these things to you.

You dropped your gaze, staring down at your wet hands. 

The mirror hurt to look at.

It must have been dangerous.

You did not look at him.

You looked through him. 

Your eyes, that had once gazed at him so lovingly and passionately, now stared blankly at the mirror. You were confused. You were not...

You.

He had fallen in love with your mind, your heart, your passion and desire to grow and learn magic, your silly antics and mannerisms; he had fallen in love with the you that was so clearly not in front of him, a you that moved so little, sat so still. The you that had so clearly been taken away and buried.

He could not bear to see you like that. Your body wrapped in bandages, held by the large elf that gripped you too tightly. Your eyes, dull and different and unseeing.

Your magic, your memories--you were gone.

Of that, he was sure.

And yet, as the elves took you away, speaking of a second round of spells, giving him one last scathing glare as they threw the cloak over the mirror, Aaravos found that that was fine with him.

At least then, you could have a second life. Spared by the lifetimes and lifetimes of pain he would be forced to go through. You would not remember him and all the memories you had shared; from the walks under the starry night, the quiet moments reading together, the days he had awoken to you hovering above him, happily whispering a good morning. From everything and anything you two had shared.

That was fine.

He would meet you again. 

Until then, you could live a life of happiness. What he had always wished for you. What he had not been able to give you.

Because of them.

Aaravos turned away from the mirror.

Until then, he would never forgive those who had separated you from him.

He wouldn’t be idle. 

Lifetimes and lifetimes trapped he would endure.

If only to avenge you when the time came.

a/n: jumping on that aaravos bandwagon yay! first thing ive written for tdp sooo i hope you like it!! thanks for reading!!

(yes i used google translate for the spell. just in case someone wants to know, it’s supposed to say something like “forget who you love forget the magic within” but i forgot (wow the irony) what i wrote exactly and google translate is translating it into something else entirely so whoops)