#sauron more like sit on...me?

[oof-ow-my-bone]

sneezes

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

Defied (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

Warnings: evil!reader, that Celebrimbor scene in 2x08, so torture and death (the description isn’t too graphic and reader doesn’t torture him directly but she plays good cop to Sauron’s bad cop) angst + comfort, biting, some manhandling, mention of reader killing people

Note: one more fic in the evil!reader collection. Works on its own too but reader’s backstory is more detailed than here in Old Wounds. I think I broke myself writing this.

Celebrimbor awakens to a damp cloth gently brushing the blood and sweat off his feverish brow. A touch kinder than he had imagined he would ever feel again. He groans weakly, awash with relief as he opens his eyes.

Any trace of comfort vanishes when he sees it is the wife of Sauron who is administering the merciful treatment.

“Shh,” you murmur as he tries to lift his head. The soft pillow on which it’s resting are your thighs, your legs folded beneath you as you sit sideways on the floor. It takes only the lightest push for you to hold him down by the shoulder, but it still sends pain shooting through his tormented body.

“We do not have long,” you whisper, throwing a slightly nervous glance towards the door. “He will return soon.”

Frowning and too weak to do anything but lie there, Celebrimbor searches the room with his eyes, finding that the two of you are, indeed, alone. He also finds that you have removed the arrows from his body while he had been unconscious, his wounds still painful but at least more bearable than before. To his surprise, they don’t seem to be bleeding as profusely as one would expect.

“I’ve done what I could,” you say regretfully, gently pressing the cloth to his temple. “I can do more.”

Your voice leads him to raise his gaze to yours. There’s a shaft of light pouring through the window at just the right angle so that it bathes your face in an ethereal glow. Looking at him from above, all beauty and light in the midst of his forge’s ruins, you seem like a gift from the Valar themselves. You could be his salvation, his way back to freedom, if only he would—

“If only I would give you the Nine.”

His voice is so weak and hoarse, he barely hears it himself. Your brow furrows, as sympathetic as the small smile you grace him with.

“There is no other way,” you whisper.

Despite it all, the weakest of chuckles escapes his parched throat.

“After he is done inflicting his torment,” he says, somehow finding enough strength within himself to pour into his voice, “you come to me with a kind word and soothing touch. Seeking to melt my will, rather than break it.” He shakes his head once, meeting your gaze unwaveringly, even from below. “I see through the illusions now. His... and yours.”

You breathe in. Slowly, deeply. As you exhale, the divine light dims and vanishes, leaving your expression as it truly is—cold and utterly frustrated as you give a sharp sigh.

“And how is that to your benefit?” you deadpan. You cast the bloodied cloth aside and remove your legs from under him. He groans in pain as you maneuver him so that he’s sitting up against a column, standing to your full height beside him. There’s nothing soothing whatsoever about the sight of you looking down at him now.

“Seriously, Celebrimbor,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. You’ve already sacrificed those poor guards of yours to do it. I mean,” you shake your head, chuckling with pity, “trying to have my husband arrested, like some common Elf? What did you imagine that would accomplish?”

“Does it not pain you,” he ignores your taunts, voice trembling as it grows in despair, “to see me tormented as the one you claim to love once was, at the hands of Morgoth? You said you were there. You said Morgoth had you mend him with your gifts, only so he could begin his tortures anew. Did you not weep as you told that story? Does it not pain you, then,” he cries out, “that your beloved husband would force you to relive that past by having you do the very same to another?!”

“It’s not him that is forcing me!” you scream out in return.

He had said that word—husband—which you use so often, and with such delight, as if it were the greatest poison known to Middle-Earth. That cracked something within you, tears of anger burning in your eyes as you begin to pace like an animal in a cage.

“Do you think this is what I would have chosen? Do you think this is what I’ve always wanted?”

Before you know what you are doing, you grab a piece of rubble and flung it against the pillar, above Celebrimbor. He gasps and flinches as pieces of shattered stone rain down dangerously close to him, though he’s lucky enough to only become covered in dust.

“There was a time,” you say, practically trembling with anger as you rush to Celebrimbor’s side, “after Morgoth was defeated, when he and I were perfectly content to simply... exist! That was enough. More than enough. We were finally free from Morgoth, finally free to be together.” You shake your head and close your eyes, breathing to regain your composure. After that, you are no longer shaking, and your voice is grim. “But we both had been free before. And we knew how easily that can be taken away. The only being who truly has freedom... is that who controls all else. And so that had to be us.”

“Perfectly sound logic.”

His words drip sarcasm. Your jaw clenches.

“Mock me all you want,” you say, crouching to his level and forcing him to look straight your merciless gaze with a firm knuckle beneath his chin. “Which one of us has their freedom now?”

Celebrimbor meets your ire with a sympathetic smile.

“Neither, my false friend,” he murmurs. “Neither.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes you. You have truly underestimated his willpower. But he has done the same with your ruthlessness.

“We’ll see,” you hiss. “Love,” you call out, the word fierce but ragged on your tongue as you release Celebrimbor’s face and stand up. He hasn’t noticed your husband walk into the room, or come to stand no longer than an arm’s length away from you. Most likely he had been lingering in the shadows, waiting for a sign from you to reveal himself. Even as you turn to him, you’re still glaring daggers meant for Celebrimbor.

“I think he likes you better,” you say.

Sauron looks at you, impassive. “Perhaps you’ve lost your touch.”

What might have otherwise been simply another tease cuts into your chest. He is a particular kind of distant now, has been since you have lost the Nine. The setback angered you as well, but your husband seems wholly consumed with the need to have them in his grasp again. Perhaps because he had poured part of himself into the making of those Rings. Not like that is any consolation. There’s a strain between you now, and nothing playful about it—only a sense of dread sinking its claws into your heart.

At an uncharacteristic loss for a snide reply, you clench your mouth shut and step aside to let him do the work.

But Celebrimbor does not relent. No matter how many arrows your husband plants in him, how much pain he endures, his lips remain sealed and the location of the Nine firmly withheld. Your husband speaks of the Orcs ravaging his city, and Celebrimbor speaks of the birds that used to fly to the river who are now silenced. Your husband pleads with him to let him share the wonders of the Rings with the world, and Celebrimbor speaks of the peace he is soon to find in death.

“There are ways to keep you alive,” is Sauron’s grim reply. “My wife’s skill being the most efficient of them.”

“Is it?” you question quietly. “I thought I’d... ‘lost my touch’.”

You don’t bother to look at him as you speak the bitter words. For a while now, you’ve been leaning against the wall near the window, staring out at the darkened horizon. You don’t need to see your husband to picture the piercing gaze he turns towards you, or the tick in his jaw as he grouses, “Now is not the time—”

“It’s never the time.” Your head whips to look at him, and you flinch when you find him closer already than you had expected, staring you down. But you’re long past being intimidated by such gestures. You only meet your husband’s gaze defiantly. “I no longer wish to do this.”

There is the smallest furrow of his brow, equal parts surprised and disturbed. You hardly ever refuse each other. Especially in moments as critical as this. Glancing at Celebrimbor, you see his bloody brow is knitted in confusion, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to give heed to his words. And it is not for him that you are doing this—but your husband follows your line of sight, and his gaze has gone from displeased to wrathful as it returns to yours.

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a little blood,” he says, voice low and menacing as he steps closer, crowding you into the wall. “Or perhaps it is not the torment, but the Elf on whom it is being inflicted that stays your hand?” He takes hold of your wrist as he speaks, lifting it between your chests as he closes his fingers over yours with misleading delicacy. “Is that it, my love? Has our dear Celebrimbor grown on you at last?”

“Don’t be absurd,” you huff out, making to walk past him—but he slams your hand into the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours, trapping you as you gasp and glare. Your free hand pushes against his chest to no avail, while his cups your cheek to make you look him in the eye.

“Is this why you tell him of our past so freely?” he growls, his breath hot and heavy on your lips. “Why you justify yourself, hoping to find forgiveness, perhaps? Compassion?” He trembles with rage as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. “...desire?”

Rage blinds you, raw and animalistic—and like an animal, you bite onto his finger, shoving him in the chest at the same time. He stumbles back, glaring down at his hand. Your teeth have drawn black blood, and you furiously wipe it off your lips with the back of your hand.

“How dare you?” You charge for him and hit his chest again, putting enough of your powers behind it that he almost doesn’t catch himself and tumbles to the ground. “How dare you accuse me of such treachery?” you scream. Tears of rage gather in your eyes, while his are a mix of disbelief and anger. “After all I have done for you. All the ways I have proven my devotion, the oaths we swore, the centuries we have lived for nothing but each other—”

“You speak as though I were a stranger to your jealous anger,” he retorts. “As if you did not pierce me with your rageful glare each time as I so much as looked Mirdania’s way—”

“I did not mean it as you do!” you cry out. “It was a game, it’s what we do! You know that.”

For a moment, only your heavy breathing fills the room. Yours and your husband’s as you stare each other down, neither willing to yield. But there is also the faint sound of Celebrimbor’s, who lies nearly forgotten in the rubble. It reminds you what it was that had been gnawing at you in the first place. You shut your eyes briefly, willing your voice to be calm and composed as you speak.

“I’ve done my fair share of dark deeds, most in the name of our love,” you say, this time heading towards your husband in a peaceful manner. “I shall do more, if needed. Worse. But this—what is happening here...” You nod your head, infuriatingly helpless as you admit, “He’s right. It means something to me. To us. This is exactly what Morgoth put us through. You are asking me to do what he made me to do you.” Your voice begins to tremble with long-suppressed grief. “And you, in your greed for those Rings, could not care less what it does to me to think of that time, let alone reenact it.”

Your husband stares as though you’ve said something incomprehensible.

“All depends upon the Rings,” he all but whispers, willing you to understand. This time when he takes one of your hands in his, the gesture is somehow both tender and desperate, as if you’ll slip away. “All of this... is for us,” he vows.

That sliver of doubt in your chest is enough to break you.

“Is it?” you breathe out shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Because it is your blood you have poured into the Nine. Not ours.”

You pull away from him—to his devastation, written plainly on his face. Your hand shakes as you wipe away your tears. A deep, aching desire burns in you to be away from this place, to start anew. You feel it is the only way to fix what has been broken, even if you can’t even tell where the divide between you lies or where it has begun.

“We shall soon have an army,” you try to reason. “Power beyond imagining, even without the Nine. No doubt, with time the Rings will find their way to you—”

“And you would have me wait for them even one moment more?” he says in disbelief. You give him a sorrowful smile.

“I have awaited your return for an eternity,” you say. “Perhaps it is your turn to wait for my sake.”

His voice is so faint you barely hear as he asks, “Or what?”

A terrible pause follows. There’s a threat in your eyes, which you don’t dare to speak out loud. You are not even sure you would be capable of doing such a thing—if, even just as another game between you, as an attempt to rile him up, even just for a brief time, you might truly find the strength or the will to turn and walk away—

It’s as if he senses the shape of those words in your mind, and they clip his breath. In an instant, he takes your face in his hands, his hold on you desperate and his eyes feral.

“If you betray me... if you forsake me...” he breathes out the word like it’s poison, planting daggers in his throat as he speaks it, “I shall forget all thoughts of healing, and raze Middle-Earth to the ground so that I am all that is left in the world for you to return to.”

“Even the Rings?” you ask, gripping his wrists to keep him close, every inch of you weak at the tortured yearning in his declaration. “Would you vanquish them as well, if it meant I would return to you?”

For a moment, his eyes widen as though you have stabbed him. Then they darken with determination.

“I shall have you... and the Rings,” he swears. “Nothing less.” His lips meet yours roughly, briefly, like he wants to prove they are still his to kiss. “Nothing...” He does it again. “...less.”

And this time, you believe him. You are desperate to, and mad with longing, ready to lose yourself to your husband’s touch and let it purge this new fear that has crept inside your heart, whispering insidiously that peril for the love you share lies on the path ahead of you. But your embrace is cut short by Celebrimbor’s voice.

“Shadow of Morgoth!” he calls out. You and your husband break away and turn to him, and the sheer defiance in his gaze chills you to the bone. “You shall have neither,” he says fiercely. “The Rings of Power shall destroy you. This twisted... mockery of love shall be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. And in the end,” his voice grows to a guttural cry, “I foresee it is the very fruit of it that shall be your utter ruin!”

You gasp in horror. It’s as though the dread within you has spoken from his mouth. Your husband is equally affected, though he is moved to rage rather than fear. In an instant, he has picked up a spear, reached Celebrimbor and impaled him in the stomach, lifting him up against the pillar.

“You’re wrong!” he growls up at the Elf moaning in pain. “We shall rule together,” he declares, almost in a craze, “and be masters of our own creations.”

Even now, even like this, Celebrimbor smiles defiantly. “No,” he says. “You shall be slaves to them. And to each other. Sauron... the Abhorred... and his Accursed Bride. Lord and Lady of the Rings.”

And so, Celebrimbor gives his last breath.

You’ve seen beings die before. You’ve been responsible for it. You can’t remember the last time it’s left you as hollow as it does now, Celebrimbor’s final words still lingering in the air around you.

“It’s only words,” you murmur in the silence, to convince the both of you. “They mean nothing.”

Your husband drives the end of the spear into the ground, leaving the body propped up against the pillar.

“I wanted to do worse,” he says blankly, staring at the ground. “But you wished for this to be over. So I did as you asked.” He lifts his gaze to yours. “How could his words be true... when there is nothing I would not do to keep you?”

His words steal your breath—but what truly claws at your heart, leaving it raw and trembling within your chest, is the fact that a lone tear has swelled in his eye, and slipped down his cheek.

“You are weeping,” you whisper, awe-stricken. “I have not seen your tears since...”

Your throat closes around the words.

“Do you doubt me, my love?” he murmurs. “Do you doubt us?”

His voice, weak and pained, undoes you.

“No,” you breathe out. “No, no, no!”

You all but run to him and throw your arms around his neck, whimpering as he wraps you in a desperate embrace. He releases a ragged breath, his heartbeat rampant against your chest, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder that makes you shiver. “We will have all that we have been striving for,” you promise against his neck, then pull back to look into his eyes. “Soon. Together.”

“My love,” is all he whispers in return. You cup his face with the most gentle touch, fingers brushing his fair hair before you press your lips to his cheek, cherishing each drop of his tears that you are kissing away.

“My love,” you repeat as if in prayer. You rest your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently nudging at the bow made of his hair as you simply stand there, holding him with his cheek to yours.

Celebrimbor was wrong. You were wrong to fear. No feeling so soul-consuming in its might could ever be shattered. Not by powers of flesh, not by those over flesh. You are sure of it now.

It’s like this that the Orcs find you as they barge into the forge room with bloody weapons in their hands. One gestures for the others to halt while you and your husband face them, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you him?” he asks, some semblance of hope in his gruff voice. “Are you Sauron?”

“I have many names,” your husband says, as always. “But her...” he wraps his arm around your waist as you hold your chin high, “you shall call ‘my Queen’.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Kill and make up

Next fic with same reader -> The Two

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 11

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Summary: The Deciever has a question for his Sweet One.

Tags: fluff. Like FLUFF. He may be deranged but he's got a soft spot. Also, told you I was gonna make the Annatar bow angsty.

Notes: the fic is out of order now because I have a lot going on and ITS MY FIC OK OK. Not having to have everything in order has given me so much inspo that within the next 24 hours there could be 2 more parts and 2 other things too soo. I love you all. Thank you for your support. My dms and inbox are always open, also if you wanna give me like a lil tip it would be appreciated.

Halbrand leaned against the archway to the library and watched you as you read through the scrolls and histories. It's how you'd spent your days since coming to Eregion. He worked on the elven rings, and you were here, reading. It was endearing to him that you sought knowledge in such a way. Proof that he had made the right choice in you.

There had to be three. Just as there had to be three rings.

Him with his power and darkness.

Galadriel with her wisdom and light.

You with your goodness and warmth to balance them out.

Three.

Though, he only desired you. Only loved you. You were what he was doing all this for. He had to create a lasting peace. He had to make Middle Earth safe and perfect. He had to overcome this pesky issue of your mortality. He could not allow you to live in a broken world. He would not allow you to come to harm, and, selfishly, perhaps, he could not let you die. The rings were for you. His ambitions and goals revolved around you.

All for you.

At least, that is what he made himself believe. If he was truly honest, he had different motives as well. Motives of power and control. Motives that would have driven him down this path if you'd never met. His deception was so great that he was able to hide that away. He was able to believe the ends justified the means. And if you were what was at the end, there was no depravity he could not justify.

Watching you now, you were breathtaking with your eyes focused and strands of hair falling in your face. You'd taken full advantage of the beautiful wardrobe and styles of the elves. Intricate, delicate strands of silver were braided through your hair. You wore a dress of light blue with more silver, and the delicate chains only served to accentuate your curves. He had thought you were beautiful in the Numenorian garb, but now you looked stunning. Breathtaking. He'd seen the most beautiful of the elves, the Silmarils, the light of creation. Yet you were greater than them all.

“I know you're there,” you spoke, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips, but your eyes never moved from the page.

“And yet you stare only at your books. My heart can not help but break.” He teased. “I will not be shamed for staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

He smirked at your blush, approaching you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He noticed that the back half of your hair was pulled up and tied into a bow. He chuckled softly and rested his chin on your shoulder. “What do you read now?”

“A tale of a human and elf falling in love,” you relaxed into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, up to your cheek before turning your head so he could capture your lips in a soft kiss. “Last week, it was the fall of elven cities. This week, it's romance. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You are easily amazed, then.”

“Do not doubt yourself, sweet one.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, turning you around in his arms and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. “I am in awe of you always, but recently, I'm in awe of these things you do with your hair. A bow?” He teased softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Do you not like it,” The way you looked up at him, seeking his approval, it mirrored the expression you wore when you were on your knees begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hips, restraining from taking you on the table.

“I do. It suits you.” He smiles softly, his eyes softening as he sees your bright smile.

“Perhaps you could grow your hair, and I can do it to you. I've seen elves of all kind wear it,” there was an excitement to your voice as you spoke.

He chuckled, “Perhaps one day, if we are parted, I will wear it as a reminder of you when my heart yearns for you.”

“You jest.”

“I do no such thing. You have plenty of things to remember me by,” his fingers traveled down to the intricate necklace of copper he'd made for you at the forge in Numenor. You always wore it. “I shall have the hair bow.”

You frowned, and his thumb traced the downward turn of your lips, his head tilted in a silent question. “Perhaps if I were to have more coin, I could get you something. Perhaps…”

Your words were muffled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hands held your face as he deepened it. It was only when he felt his body react that he pulled away. His nose brushed yours. “You have given me more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, face flushed and lips swollen. His thumb gently caressed your cheeks.

“I don't intend to ever be parted from you,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I mean it.”

He pulled away, searching his pockets for a moment before pulling out a ring. It had a silver band and a small blue gem at the center. He knew it was more than a simple band. He knew of the power he placed in it. The materials he snuck from the forge to add to it. It would need to be perfected in time to come, but for now, it would do what he needed it to. It would increase your lifespan, heal your wounds faster, and It created a connection with him, wherever you were.

It also served as a symbol. That you were his. That his feelings for you were real. His intentions were true.

He looked at it for a moment before looking at you. “ In elven culture, it's customary to give your betrothed a silver ring that you wear until marriage. At that time, they were traded for gold bands. I added a bit more. A gem as blue as the waters that brought us together.”

You gasped softly, looking at the ring and then to him.

“It's the custom of your people to ask the family but you have none. The family who warded you is gone as well. I have no one to ask for your hand but you. As such, I felt that I should give you the same proposal in which I would have given your father.”

He stood up straight, one hand on your chin directing you to look at him. “You fill me with a warmth I've never known. I no longer know who I am if not with you. I was lost and astray, without hope or purpose. It was as if the gods themselves put you on my path. You are a beacon of hope, your smile my purpose. There is nothing I would not do for you, no trial I would not face. I love you. I adore you. I have never thought of children until I met you, and now I know I want to make you a mother. I want to make you my wife.”

He brushed away a tear that had fallen from your eyes, “I give you the choice, I would never force anything upon you. Do you want that? Do you want me?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Fuck, I'm so nervous I can't talk. Just tell me, yes or no? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, nodding your head. He slid the ring onto your finger before lifting you and twirling you around. As he set you down, you looked at the ring on your finger.

“I never thought I'd be betrothed. I never thought I'd choose who I could marry.” You smiled up at him, and it filled him with joy unimaginable.

“I never thought I'd give a woman a romantic speech or truly want to settle down.” He rested his forehead against yours once more. “I'm a changed man thanks to you. Near unrecognizable to that drifter on the raft.”

“That is true. You will be a king soon.” You gasped suddenly as a realization dawned on you. “ I'm going to be a queen. Me? A queen” you laughed softly at the thought.

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That is true. As soon as my business here is done, we can return to the southlands and be wed, and you can meet all your subjects.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I'm not sure I like the thought of having subjects.”

“Of course you don't, “ he rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling. “Why don't we go back to our chambers, and I can show you how devoted of a subject I am?”

Your cheeks turned red, and you buried your face in his neck. He placed a kiss on your head, “I'll kneel and worship my queen.”

“Halbrand,” you spoke, pulling back and giving him a look.

“I'll fill you with my warmth.”

"Stop it!” You smacked his arm,causing him to laugh deeply and wrap his arms around you for a tight hug.

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You have no choice but to follow Sauron and your daughter to Mordor because you do not want to abandon her. As time passes, you find yourself being lured by your husband's charm once more as the memories of his cruelty in Eregion begin to fade away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — And here we are go with the last part! I know I probably write Sauron's relationship with his daughter in a very idealistic way – that in canon he would be most likely way worse. But writing it like that would bring me no joy. 🤷🏻‍♀️ It's a fic for dad!Sauron and I want him to be at least a bit decent while we're at it! 😤

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Sauron, Sauron being a very mid dad who manipulates his daughter and teaches her how to be evil like him, child in danger (nothing happens in the end), murder (of the Orcs), Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, immaculate conception (yes, again!)

WORD COUNT — 4,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (III)

Celebrimbor was out of his mind again. Your heart ached for him as you were sitting next to him and caressing his hair softly as if he was a child. He had spent centuries taking care of you and now it was your turn to return the favour. You kept sobbing, feeling angry at yourself that you could not protect him.

Sauron was gone. After finding out where The Rings were, he had left in a hurry, leaving you with a few Orcs that had come to the forge in the meantime. They wanted to plead their allegiance to your husband and the very first task they had been given was to watch over you, your daughter and your uncle. To make sure none of you would escape.

Almárea was not scared of them, which surprised you. In fact, she approached them and kept asking them a million questions as the Orcs were growing a little frustrated with her curiosity. They were, however, answering all her questions patiently. You cracked a smile at that. She was still a child – curious and so full of life.

So full of light, too. You could not let the darkness win within her.

“I shall not allow him to hurt you, uncle. I shall not, I promise,” you kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead and your uncle looked up at you with hazy eyes and a loving smile. “You have endured and suffered so much because of him already. But no more, no more, uncle… Now you must rest.”

“Your daughter…” He mumbled out and you looked down at his face with a sad smile. “Is she not the most precious? She is the exact copy of you, sweet (Y/N). You were a girl like her once, running around this very forge.”

“I remember, uncle,” you sobbed. “I remember it vividly. My father and you working together, my mother still happy and full of life, before she began a lifetime of mourning. I remember…”

You pulled him closer and tried to come up with an idea how to save him. Even if Sauron would not kill him – he had made this promise to Almárea when she had revealed to him Lady Galadriel had been the one to have The Rings now and you wanted to believe he would keep that promise – you still had a feeling your husband would use Celebrimbor somehow or hurt him. 

“Almárea?” You called out for her and she turned around to lay her eyes upon you. You beckoned her over and she nodded at the Orcs before running up to you. “Almárea, do you want uncle Celebrimbor to be safe?”

“Of course, mummy,” your daughter’s eyes widened.

“Can you distract them as I walk him out of here? I will be right back,” you whispered as you pointed at the Orcs with your chin.

“I do not know, mummy… Last time I listened to you, daddy was very angry…” She looked down, nervously.

“Almárea, please. Do you love uncle Celebrimbor?” You asked.

“Yes, of course,” she nodded.

“Then, please…”

“But will you come back to me? Truly?” She lifted up her eyes and looked into yours with a hint of anxiety.

“My darling, always. I shall never abandon you,” you promised, truthfully. Your heart ached at the thought she was not as sure of it as you were.

Eventually, she nodded as she turned around towards the Orcs once more. She ran up to them joyfully and kept asking them questions. When you moved up, dragging Celebrimbor with you, they did not even flinch, which meant that your daughter’s deception was working.

You felt bad for leaving her with them even for a short moment but at this moment it was your uncle who was the most vulnerable and who needed you more. You owed him that, at least.

You walked him out of the forge and hurried to the secret tunnel below the city. The Orcs who had taken over Eregion were feasting now in havoc in the courtyard, which distracted them enough to make it possible for you to lead your uncle safely to the passage.

You walked inside with him and he was following you like a trusting child. In the middle of the passage, you bumped into Herald Elrond. Your heart was in joy to see him and to know that he was safe. He had been some sort of a cousin to you – his father had also been a friend of Celebrimbor and he also was a half-Elf. You had many things in common and you had been close friends in your youth.

“(Y/N), thank the Valar,” he sighed. “Where is your daughter? I was sent here by the High King to make an attempt to rescue you and–” He began.

“I must go back,” you shook your head with your eyes full of tears. “Take uncle Celebrimbor to safety. Heal his mind. Forget about me,” you pleaded and he furrowed his brows.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “Where is Almárea?”

“Please, Elrond. You must not know,” you insisted before kissing your uncle’s forehead once more and caressing his cheeks to tell him goodbye.

“(Y/N)!” Elrond called out for you when you turned around to go back to Eregion and to your daughter.

“If you love me and respect me,” you began. “If you love Celebrimbor… Just take him away from here. That is all I ask for,” you insisted and hurried back to Eregion. “Do not follow me!” You exclaimed after hearing him trying to rush after you.

He eventually listened to you because he had a huge love for Celebrimbor and he could see the state of him was not the best. You heard the sound of their steps subduing as you went back to Eregion. 

You went back to the forge, feeling a bit more peaceful on the inside, knowing that you managed to save your uncle from Sauron. You nodded at Almárea and she nodded back at you, visibly relieved to see you coming back to her.

Her father came back not long after, too. He was wearing a breastplate and holding Morgoth’s crown in his hand, which was dripping blood – you could feel from afar its purity and light. It was Elven.

“Have you killed her?” You whispered with widened eyes.

“Sadly, no,” Sauron answered with a smirk. “But I got The Nine,” he added and you looked away, feeling defeated. “Speaking of, where is Celebrimbor?”

“Far away,” you mumbled out, expecting him to lash out.

Surprisingly, he did not. He shrugged his arms.

“Whatever. He is no use to me anymore. Almárea, we are leaving,” he extended his free hand and nodded at her.

“You cannot take her away from me!” You turned your head around again to watch what she would do. She hesitated but then she ran up to him and squeezed his hand, which felt like a punch straight into your heart.

“Where are we going, daddy?” She asked.

“To our new home,” Sauron answered and turned around, dragging her behind him but she remained still. “What is it?” He asked with an irritated sigh.

“We are taking mummy with us, right?” She asked.

Long silence occurred. Sauron laid his cold and empty eyes upon you, sitting on the floor with your back pressed to the wall and crying silent tears.

“It is her choice,” he answered, softly, “but I doubt she wants to go with us.”

“On the contrary. I have no choice,” you gritted your teeth, clumsily standing up. “I must go where she goes. Even if it is a path I hate to follow.”

“Do you truly realise who I am?” Your husband titled his head at your words. “All the stories they have told you about me when you were a child – I am worse than any of them.”

“I am fully aware,” you approached him and held Almárea’s free hand. “And that is why I must go to make sure you do not turn her into a monster like you.”

It took you a few days of travel with the filthy army of Orcs to get to Mordor. You and Sauron did not exchange a single word during this trip. Almárea was riding with you on your horse for half of the day and then she would go to ride with her father. You made no stops on your way, so after arriving in Mordor, you and your daughter were exhausted.

The land was dark and barren, full of fire and ashes. It looked like hell but you decided not to complain because you realised you were on thin ice already – Sauron did not treat you like his consort in any way. Apparently, you would be nothing but a mother to his child from now on. Any sign of disobedience could be punished with exile and that was the last thing you wanted. You needed to be close to your daughter.

He ordered the Orcs to build him a grand fortress but until then, you resided in a big mansion that had once belonged to a rich human family of The Southlands. You had an awful view of Mount Doom from there and the rooms were all beautifully decorated but also dusty and worn out.

Once again – you did not complain. You did not dare.

You followed Sauron to the chambers he had decided would be yours and Almárea’s. He was carrying her in his arms as she was half-asleep already. You watched him put her to bed and caress her head as you sat down on the chair next to the bed. You held her little hand and squeezed it lovingly, watching her drift off to the land of dreams. Those past few days had been difficult and exhausting for her.

Sauron straightened his back and looked down at you with a bit of contempt but also affection – mixed together, they made you feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Do you remember?” He asked, speaking his very first sentence to you in days.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, questioningly. Your husband extended his hand and touched your cheek with it.

At that moment, your vision got blurry and you felt yourself go back in time a few years to one, specific memory. One of the most beautiful days you had ever lived.

You were sitting by the river, in a field full of flowers. Almárea was about a year old and clumsily taking her first steps. You watched Annatar helping her and chuckling at her harmless but funny falls as she kept giggling and blabbering, excitedly. The sun was slowly setting and you felt at peace. You truly believed your whole life would be just like that.

When Sauron took his hand away from your face, you found yourself back in Mordor, stripped of any faith and any dignity.

“Why did you show me that?” You asked him, angrily, as your eyes filled with fresh tears.

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

“Perhaps you should have,” was all you answered, in a whisper nearly inaudible as you watched him walk away with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You had cried out so many of them recently that you were starting to feel hollow and empty.

Weeks passed, maybe months. You had lost track of time since all your days were the same. You were given quite a lot of freedom because Sauron was sure you would never leave his side as long as Almárea was there. You were allowed to walk around the mansion and even take walks although you did not crave them at all since Mordor was not the perfect place to spend time outside.

You were barely exchanging any words with your husband and you seemed to avoid each other. However, he was making sure you were not short on anything. Once in a while there was a package waiting for you on your bed. Inside it you would find gifts – books to read or new dresses. And yesterday you had found an embroidery set, which filled your heart with joy.

You missed embroidery and you even considered it quite thoughtful that he had remembered about it. So, you were sitting by the window and focusing on your craft, trying to recreate Mount Doom, which your daughter loved for some reason. You wanted to make her happy.

You were focused on your work when the doors opened loudly, making you misplace the needle and hurt yourself as you hissed and looked up at your husband.

“Where is Almárea?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Is she not with you? Are you not teaching her your craft of treachery and deception like every day?” You asked with a sigh, defeated.

Sauron rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on your remark.

“I told her to go back to her mother about two hours ago,” he informed you and your heart skipped a beat at that revelation.

“Why didn’t you walk her here yourself?” You asked.

“I had an important matter to attend to and it is not like she is a toddler, is it?” Sauron clenched his jaw but you spotted a glimpse of panic in his eyes. “Where is she?”

“How can I know?! I thought she was with you!” You stood up instantly and put your embroidery set down before rushing out of your chambers. “Almárea!” You called out. “Almárea!”

“Have you seen Lady Almárea?” Sauron asked one of the Orcs walking down the hall.

“N-no, my Lord Sauron,” the Orc shook his head and you watched your husband sit his throat just like that. Usually, you found this behaviour of his dreadful. But now you were too scared and worried for your daughter to care

You kept searching for her all over the mansion, calling out her name, leaving a pile of dead Orcs behind because none of them could answer Sauron about Almárea’s location.

“I think she must have gone outside,” you said after bumping into your husband in the corridor. You watched his eyes widen even further in terror and concern. You snorted at that. “What are you? Scared of losing your precious tool?” You asked him with contempt.

That only angered him further as he grabbed your arm and squeezed it so tightly that you were sure there was a bruise forming already.

“Do not ever say that again,” he drawled out through gritted teeth right into your face. “Do not speak of matters you have no idea of.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Despite everything between you two – it seemed like you shared a thread together and that was love for your daughter. And because you were a worried mother, you regretted inflicting any pain upon a worried father.

“Forgive me,” you whispered and he let go of your arm.

“Do you have any idea where she could go?” Sauron asked you and you shook your head before freezing as you realised.

“Mount Doom,” you whispered. “For some reason, she adores it,” you explained.

“We must not waste any moment then,” Sauron grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind him as you two ran out of the mansion.

The forsaken volcano was not very far away from your home but it still took you quite a while to get there. The air was poisonous around it, making you choke and tear up. You were no mortal, therefore you were in no danger, but it was still an inconvenience. 

“If anything happened to her, I shall be the one to kill you, whatever it takes!” You threatened your husband and he did not even say anything to this. He let go of your wrist and proceeded to climb up.

You followed him but in many places the ground was slippery and you needed his support. His hand would grab you each time you stumbled and pull you up.

Breathing heavily, both covered in dirt from the ashes, you stood there, petrified, seeing Almárea sitting by the edge of the volcano and staring at it spitting out fire. She seemed to be content with her position. You looked up at Sauron with terror in your eyes and he left you behind to approach your daughter with extended hands.

“Almárea, what are you doing here? Have you not been told to never go outside without me or your mother?” Sauron asked, carefully.

“Ugh, daddy, I know, I am sorry. I was just so curious about this mountain and guess what? It is even better than I have imagined,” she confessed with a smile. “Do you know what it reminds me of?”

“What, Almárea?” He asked, taking a few more small steps closer to her.

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

“Yes, I can, my darling. And we will,” he assured her. “But please, come to me and mummy now, will you?” He extended his hand even further and she nodded, eagerly.

You both gasped watching her stand up because one little wrong move could cause her to fall down the volcano. She, however, seemed to be oblivious. She skipped along towards her father and Sauron picked her up in an instant, squeezing her tight and caressing the back of her head.

Your heart swelled inside your chest at the realisation that he truly cared for her and truly loved her  – even if it was not enough to save her from making her play a part in his schemes.

“Can we go back home, please?” You pleaded and it was the very first time you called that awful place your home.

Sauron nodded at you and you began your walk down the mountain. You were still shaking slightly and holding onto his sleeve to make sure you would not fall. Just like in the old days, he was bringing you comfort and safety – he was making you feel protected even if it was only being protected from a fall.

When you reached your mansion, Sauron took Almárea to the chambers she shared with you. Her skin and robes were dirty with mud and ashes, therefore you prepared her a bath and helped her to undress and get inside the bathtub.

“Call for me if you need anything,” you told her as you placed a new dress on the chair for her to dress herself into after the bath. “Be careful, my darling,” you smiled at her and left her alone in the bathroom, although you left the door ajar just in case.

Sauron was still inside your chambers and staring out of the window at Mount Doom. You sighed at the sight of his back turned on you and you decided to approach him softly.

Your hands acted before you allowed them to and they placed themselves on his arm softly. Your body ached for him and his presence; it was too used to his touch.

He flinched a little and turned his head around to look down at you with a puzzled expression.

“I miss you,” you confessed. “I miss being close to you,” you added.

“You miss Annatar, not me,” he shrugged his arms and looked out of the window again.

“Was Annatar not you? From the very beginning, my husband was Sauron. I only chose to be blind to see it,” you whispered and he looked back at you again, surprised to hear your words.

“Do I not repulse you?” He snorted.

“It does not change the fact I love you still,” you sighed and pressed your cheek to his arm. You both remained dirty from the ashes but you did not mind that all because today’s shared experience of fear and concern for your daughter had brought you two close together once more.

“Your love differs from mine,” he pointed out, a little harshly.

“It has not escaped me,” you let out a chuckle and nuzzled your face deeper into his sleeve. “But it is alright that we love differently. I do not want to be your Queen, I do not want you to share your power with me. All I want is to–”

“Have a family with me,” Sauron finished the sentence softly and you looked up at him, gently. It was the very first time in a long time when your eyes filled with affection for him again. “I was never keen on the idea of having offspring,” he admitted. “But then you made me realise what a blessing children might be,” he cracked a smile and raised his hand to caress your cheek. “I was terrified of my potential child stealing my powers and overthrowing me but Almárea… Her powers and her mind terrify me in the most exquisite way. Do you know why she is so perfect?” He asked and you shook your head. “Because she is half you. She is half light and half darkness. The perfect balance and what else could possibly heal Middle-earth?”

You hated yourself but you found yourself falling for his beautiful words once again. You could never be sure after everything that had happened if his sweet nothings, promises and love declarations were ever genuine. Perhaps, you would forever wonder about it. But despite all of that, the dreadful memories of Eregion’s downfall and his behaviour then were becoming blurry with time and you were ready to move on; to start another chapter with him.

And, as usual, you had an excuse for your husband, too. He had been nervous then. Of course he had been the worst version of himself. But it did not mean he would always be like this. Right now he was not.

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

“Here I stand,” you whispered and a single tear streamed down your cheek.

“Almárea asked me about us,” Sauron put his hands on your arms and moved away slightly to be able to look at your face. “She wonders if we still love each other. I told her it was complicated.”

“I told her the very same thing,” you smiled sadly.

“But it is not, is it?” He raised an eyebrow and you shook your head, laughing nervously through your tears.

“No,” you admitted. “It is not.”

“It is true that I had my reasons to choose you out of all Elven maidens. And it is true that I was scared of having a son with you because I thought that the chances of a son overthrowing me would be higher,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “But you have become the most dear to me, the most precious,” he confessed and turned you around, making you look at Mount Doom as his hands lowered themselves to your abdomen.

You knew what he was about to do. You flinched at first, torn on the inside if it was truly what you wanted. Last time you had been deceived but now you would willingly allow it, despite knowing the true nature of the man who was your husband.

You looked down at his hands resting on your womb. He was still wearing a golden ring on his finger that you had put there on the day of your wedding. And you were still wearing yours because you still loved him despite hating yourself for it. You still wanted to be around him as if he was something addictive that you could not live without. And your womb was still open for more of his offspring.

You relaxed and when he sensed your consent, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his hands and filling you up, forming a new life inside of you.

You put your hands on top of his and squeezed them for courage.

“A son,” he whispered into your ear with lots of satisfaction and excitement.

“Another tool for you to use,” you pointed out.

“Another child for you to love and spoil,” Sauron brushed your hair strand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Another thread of love binding us together.”

“Mummy? Daddy?” Almárea’s voice made you both turn around. She walked out of the bathroom in her new dress and kept looking at you two with a big grin. “Does it mean you are in love again?” She asked, full of hope.

“Oh, my darling, we have never stopped being in love,” you assured her and opened your arms to allow her to give you a hug. You did not want her to know all the details about the nature of your relationship with her father. She had already seen and witnessed way too much.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight, which only made her smile grow even wider as she looked up.

“I am going to have a sibling!” She exclaimed, happily, after sensing the new life inside of you.

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

“But… But you will still rule over us all, right, daddy?” Almárea asked hopefully, as if she was already scared of the responsibility that one day would be put upon her shoulders.

“Oh, of course, little one,” Sauron smiled lovingly at her. “I shall always bear the biggest burden of power for that is a father’s one to carry.”

He loved her – of that you were sure now. But no amount of his love could protect her from his schemes and his manipulations. Therefore, he had to love you as well and no amount of cruelty he had put you through contradicted it.

That was the way Sauron loved. It was a cursed devotion but also a blessed one.

MASTERLIST

[etherealeowyn]

"Will you be my queen?" - Annatar x Fem Reader

Annatar comes back early, and Y/n's in for a surprise.

THIS CONTAINS SMUT - MINORS DNI

Word Count: 682

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Raindrops endlessly fell from the sky, as a chill washed over Y/n’s bedroom chamber, making the woman pull her blankets closer to her body. A fire was flickering near the foot of the bed, but the warmth emitted did not compare to Annatar’s body heat.

He had left early to attend to some matters with Celebrimbor regarding forging the rings of power.

Naivety was not an attribute that Y/n possessed. She knew Annatar was not his true name; he was Sauron, the demi-god feared for ages. But this knowledge did not dissuade her love for him.

Even though logically, it should have.

But logic carried very little weight over matters of the heart.

Sitting up, Y/n pushed the covers off her body before swinging her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the feeling of the cold stone beneath her bare feet. She walked over to the divider in the corner of the room designated as a changing space and began to slip on a thick velvet dress.

“There’s no need for you to put that on,” a man’s voice sounded, causing Y/n’s head to snap up from what she was doing.

A small blush crept onto her face as she recognized Annatar’s voice. She could see the silhouette of his frame, through the divider, illuminated by the burning fire.

She watched as his hand pushed the divider to the side, removing the barrier that separated the pair.

Looking up at him with anticipation prominent in her eyes, she felt her heart pound rapidly within her chest, wanting nothing more than for his skin to encounter hers. His fingers delicately pushed the garment from her shoulders, making it fall onto the ground in a heap. Annatar offered his hand to the woman, and she eagerly took it, stepping away and following him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“Sit,” he stated, his voice containing a well-balanced mixture of assertiveness and warmth.

She did as he said without hesitation, knowing everything he did for her was always in her best interest.

Using his calloused hands, Annatar spread open the woman’s legs, causing Y/n to fall back onto her elbows. The way that his long blond hair brushed the inside of her thighs before his mouth reached her clit, made her breath quicken, and she swore that she could feel electricity flowing through every part of her body.

There was no sorcery involved, but when he went down on her, it felt like time slowed down, and every touch, whether big or small, was amplified. He’d occasionally look up at her, eyes clouded, with a smirk playing on his lips as she squirmed in pleasure.

Her hair was sprawled out around her on the bed, slightly messy but perfect, nonetheless. He had hardly seen her like this, usually, in the public eye she was the epitome of put-together, making him feel mildly powerful that he was able to unravel her like this.

“S-Sauron,” she moaned his name as she finished, panting as beads of sweat adorned her forehead.

Y/n wasn’t expecting to let that name fall from her mouth, but she had a hard time calling him by his other names when this one seemed to fit him so well. Plus, her head felt like it was spinning, from the way that his tongue worked. Y/n knew that it was twisted to love someone like him, but at the same time, she felt so deeply connected to him that she couldn’t possibly run from him.

“I was not expecting you to say that, but I’m not surprised you figured it out, love. I always knew you were smart,” he spoke with a cocky smile.

Y/n sat up, struggling to form words, however, she let a smile brighten up her features.

“I could fill you in on everything later, but I just need to know, will you be my queen?” he asked, sloppily trailing kisses up her leg.

“Absolutely,” Y/n responded breathily, placing her finger underneath his chin and pointing it upwards so she could connect her lips to his.

[thyras]

→ your shadow

PAIRING → halbrand (sauron) x f!númenórean!reader

WORD COUNT → 2.3k words

WARNINGS → pining (mainly our dark lord), stalking, flirting, secrets, manipulating dreams, obsession, sinful thoughts 🤭

SUMMARY → the dark lord begins his quest to turn you to the darkness, he uses every tactic he can think of but for some reason the darkness doesn’t consume you like the others.

AUTHORS NOTE → this is turning out to be a pretty long series so I'll start linking the previous parts. i wanted to also thank you all for the lovely comments and love for this series. it is my first time branching out to another fandom so thank you so much for welcoming me with open arms, it means the world to me 🩵

also massive warning; i am not versed in the lore as I am still new to this obviously none of what happens in here will be canonical as readers secret is probably not in the slightest possible.

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

He could not help himself. In the days following your meeting in the jail, his mind had followed you, reaching out when you slept just so he could taste the sweet thoughts and manipulate those dreams to aid in his corruption of you. He needed more than just a touch; he required a bond—one only solidified by the mixing of blood.

Like with Galadriel, you started as a cog in the master plan. Something to corrupt, a means to an end. But as he spends more and more time watching you from the shadows, he realizes that you have become more. More than a simple pawn on the board to play in this game of healing Middle-Earth.

He grew to admire your strength and resilience toward his meddling. Now, as he watched from the shadows of the darkened alley, he could not help but try to pull on that little invisible thread starting to show itself to him. However, something surprised him: a bright shimmer seemed to encompass you this time, like a shield protecting you from his onslaught.

Your laughter was so pure and sinful to his ears that it, for even the briefest moment, caused a faint shimmer of light to return to his dark soul. But the light was fleeting, and he returned to the darkness to leave you to mingle and converse with your fellow maidens until he would find you in your dreams again.

"Lord Halbrand," you called, causing him to stop his stride away from the tavern once you caught a glimpse of him probably leaving. He spun around to look at you, a thin smile on his lips. "Come sit with us," you waved him over, though slightly drunken by the ale you had been drinking if your shaky hand was any tell to him. The other maidens looked at you and spoke inaudible words. Ones they clearly aimed at him if their alarmed minds were any tell.

"Ladies," he bowed slightly as you smiled up at him. His eyes swept over the other maidens, who looked less than pleased to see the rugged man standing there.

"I see you escaped your cage," you say with a hint of amusement. "A pity for us then," he chuckled as the words spilled out your lips.

A pity indeed.

He thought mildly as he took his seat next to you. You waved for someone to bring another thing of ale before turning to him and motioning to the guild emblem on his tunic.

"I see you have been busy since we last spoke," He looked down at where you were pointing, and another thin smile rose on his lips.

"I guess," He paused. "I have your queen to thank,"

"The she-elf, to be exact," one of the other maidens said from the rim of her mug before taking a nervous sip as he turned his dark eyes on her. She's been adamant about getting you both to Middle-Earth," you kicked the fellow maiden from underneath the table. She winced and reached down to rub it soothingly.

He knew that he had Galadriel eating right out of the palm of his hand, but he wished to have you doing more than eating out of the palm of his hand. As he looked down at you, that light aura reappeared as he tried to twist the darkness against you.

Still protecting your mind from any deeper manipulation.

A woman sat a mug in front of him, and he took a sip before stating his opinion on the maiden's statement. It was not like he needed the liquid, but the deception was required to continue until it was the right time.

"The she-elf and I do not have aligned motives, and I have no wish to return to where I came from." It seemed to make your eyes sparkle at the mention of him not wanting to leave. The aura dropped just in the slightest, allowing him to manipulate the dark thread a little.

He watched as your face changed slightly before you took a nervous sip of your drink. If he could show that dark, nebulous smile, he would have. Watching you fall just that little deeper into the darkness was a joy, even if it was becoming a challenge.

But he liked challenges, and to break the sweet, innocent woman you were would be even lovelier than the rest.

His desire for you to be his was ever palpable in his mind. No mere mortal had ever caught his attention like you had. He had never been blinded by manly desires or instinctual needs; there was no need for it when you were a Maia. But he began succumbing to these desires the more he lived in this form and understood why Men, Elves, and even Dwarves fought wars over the feelings now burning intensely in his mind.

Though you were not some mere mortal. He had sensed it, as had Galadriel. But it was not his place to reveal the secret, only yours.

"So you wish to stay then?" you asked with a drunken smile.

"Like I said, I wish for a peaceful life—one away from the turmoil of war and death." He said with measured precision as if he had been practicing it for hours.

"So you would just stand idly by while your people are murdered?" His eyes narrowed at you before sitting up straighter against your gaze.

"It is not my place to intervene."

"But you are their king," You said a little too boldly for his liking. Sure, the illusion of his kingly hood was a mere construction of the she-elf's imagination. He was surprised that you even believed it.

"I am not, my lady," his voice lowered before taking a sip. He stared off into the distance until he felt the warm touch of your delicate hand against his bicep. The feeling sent an electric sensation down his arm as the darkness seemed to surface against your touch, covering his body in a dark encasing as your light seemed to glow even more.

"Then why can't you be?" You asked slowly with a raised brow.

"I've done evil," He breathed. "Things I care not to burden your delicate ears with." A warmth filled your face as he spoke the words.

"We've all done evil things, Lord Halbrand, things we are not proud of, things we hold onto in the deepest swells of our minds, locking them away in hopes we never see them again." This surprised him. Her statement had genuinely surprised him. What evil could a fair maiden like yourself have done for you to push it away from your mind?

Sure, when he touched your dreams, he found darkness—hollow darkness, regret, and hatred for yourself. This is what he latched onto when trying to manipulate you. But nothing had ever come of it. Not even an image presented itself.

What demon walked beneath your beautiful eyes that you would utter such a statement?

He craved to find out even more now. Milk it for everything it was worth, hoping it would sway you to his cause.

"I doubt the evil you have done compares." You snorted.

"You would be surprised, my lord," Your eyes grew distant momentarily as overwhelming sadness and regret filled your heart. The aura dropped even more, and he took that chance to wind another dark thread against your shimmering one, drawing even more of that darkness you carried to the surface.

"We must leave you," one of the other maidens said as they both stood and laid coins on the wooden table. "We need to rise early; do not stay out too late, " she said to you with a small smile before they both made their way back down the road towards the palace.

"I should probably be getting back as well," You tried standing but almost tripped over the bench in your drunken state. He grabbed you and tried steading you.

"I hardly think it is wise for you to walk back alone," He paused, a smile touching his lips as his dark green eyes met yours. "You never know what may follow you in the dark."

"I am perfectly capable of protecting myself," He chuckled and shook his head.

"Not in this state, little one," Your face warmed, and your core twisted as the words fell out of his lips. You liked it when that silvery tongue spoke words like that. It was intoxicating against your drunken mind and almost made you drop the innocent facade you clung so profoundly to.

"You would be surprised,"

The streets were familiar to you, and you knew how to get back in your drunken state, but you wished to talk to Halbrand for longer. So, instead of taking the usual route, you made a few other turns until you walked up towards one of the many courtyards surrounding the palace.

His grip on you was light as he steadied you, carefully taking each step as you ascended the marble stairs. "Can we take a moment? I wish to pick your brain a little more, Lord Halbrand,"

"Of course," he said as you motioned to one of the sitting areas. You took a seat and smoothed your hands over the fabric of your dress as he sat next to you. Your eyes looked up at the stars that were on display tonight. They seemed even brighter than usual. "What would you like to know?"

"Why do you shake under your responsibility?" You say, not taking your eyes off the heavens.

"My responsibility has always been to myself, no one else." You turn to him, touching his stubbled cheek, rubbing your thumb across the cool skin. Eyes locked as you pondered the following words to exit your mouth. He looked almost shocked by your touch.

"I doubt that," you breathed. "You have seen evil, done evil, and still your eyes tell me you wish for vengeance against those who have wronged you." He took your hand off his cheek and lowered it to your lap.

"You know nothing of what you speak of, my lady, just the workings of your drunken state." You moved to grip his wrist, and to his surprise, the darkness rose in you. It was not his, but yours. He watched as your eyes darkened and pulled him in.

"But I do," You breathed in the darkened night. "I know the pain you carry. The revenge you seek." You paused and moved to pick at the stitching in your gown. "It eats at me like some demon that craves flesh and blood to sate its sadistic tendencies."

Halbrand could not help but smile at the cruel irony of it all. You believed herself a demon when the very thing you spoke of was sitting right next to you, listening and praying on this darkness like some leech.

"When I was younger, I was a wild soul and seemed to always be drawn towards the sea like it called out to me. My mother was a Númenórean from a house unknown to anyone. I never bothered to ask." You shrugged but continued. "I never knew my father. Mama had said he was long gone before she whisked me away to Middle-Earth. We settled in a seaside village with other pilgrims, and life seemed picturesque."

You swallow hard against the next revelation. The next part you had never uttered to another soul, sworn to secrecy by your mother, and you had carried it for a few hundred years. "Then came the war; our village was ravaged by Morgoth's forces. In a desperate attempt to save my village and my mother, I pulled on my usage of the magicks that resided in me, flooding the village and wiping out every living soul there, including my mother." Tears formed on your cheeks as the screams filled your ears once more, drawing out the darkness you had pulled on at that moment to protect the people you cared for. "I later found her after the waters receded; she still clung to life. There, she told me of my father, a fair man with white shimmering hair and icy blue eyes whom she met while sailing the shores. They fell in love and had me; he told her he was a Valar and showed her things. Then he gave her this." You produced a necklace from underneath your gown.

The beautiful blue jewel sparkled in the light as Halbrand's eyes grew. The shimmer of protection gleamed against the stone, and now he understood the aura surrounding you, making it even more of a challenge.

This revelation only complicated things more. But he could not hold back his surprise in the slightest as he gazed upon the daughter of a fucking Valar. One as powerful as any witch or even Maia like himself. If he could turn you, there would be no stopping him or even you on your joined conquest of healing Middle-Earth.

You thumbed the jewel, trying to calm your nerves slightly before continuing. "He told her he would always protect her and me in our darkest moments. But he was not there even after we begged him to free us from Morgoth's forces. So I turned to the dark and brought havoc, smiting him and all the other Valar for standing idly by. I have never touched that part of myself since then."

Before you could continue, his pillowy lips met yours in soothing calmness. You melted into him and let your drunken thoughts run wild as his fingers traveled to grasp your chin. Those tears that once fell on your cheeks were now wiped clean by the fiery man engulfing you. Your fingers moved wind into his loose, brown waves as he fought your lips for dominance.

A whimper fell from your lips as he pulled away, leaving you breathless and even more dizzy than before. "Your secret is safe with me." He breathed against your lips.

Now he had an in.

And now the real work would begin.

[serailovesbagelsetc]

I rarely try to excuse this guy’s behaviour,but can you even imagine being Sauron and having gone through an entire age of Silmaril-related drama,then tried a self-coronation where he got Julius Caesared and turned into goo, then finally managing,after ages and after having eaten at least one poor woman,to take a human form,then finding yourself on a tattered raft on the sea after having to jump ship,now possibly being hunted by a water creature-going through all that,and then looking up to see a personified fucking Silmaril swimming towards you?

Look…look…if he took some time to understand what was happening,and if he absolutely thought he was having some trauma-related hallucination and thought someone was playing a cosmic joke on him…all I’m saying is that letting one of the traumas you’ve only just recovered from back into you life and your raft,might have given anyone pause.He was probably just sitting on that raft convinced he was free,thinking-"no thanks no more silmaril stuff for me,no sir, that was wild lol so glad I'm done with all that, I’ve had enough,I never even want to talk about-“

And then he saw her and had the first panic attack he’s ever had.

She will then go on to live rent-free in his mind for the rest of his life,like tell me he didn’t hate that fucking raft for the rest of his existence.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine warning Annatar (Sauron) not to pressure Celebrimbor…

In all the years you knew him, Celebrimbor never yelled. And yet, he had just done so and stormed off.

You frowned. Taking a step away from the elven smiths by the Great Forge, you followed the staircase to where Celebrimbor had chosen to seek refuge.

You found him seated at his circular desk and marched over.

“I do not know what has come over you. And I do not know if you will confide in me.” You started and pointed toward the space from which you had just left. “But each of those elves worked tirelessly over the seven rings. I watched over their work, it was nothing short of magnificent. I cannot understand your urgency to perfect a process that has been perfected.”

“If it were perfect, I would have no need to request it.” Celebrimbor snapped in return.

You let out a soft sigh and lowered yourself to sit on your knees at his side. “Has something happened?” You asked.

His behaviour had never been erratic even on his more tempered days. Your mind wandered back to recent changes that may have affected his mood but it always singled to one particular moment - or rather, a single person who had suddenly turned up.

“Has Annatar said something to you?”

The question made Celebrimbor turn his head almost immediately. His mouth opened to speak, likely to reprimand you for the accusation, when a shadow fell over the door.

“I do hope I am not interrupting.” Annatar said politely before crossing the threshold.

With a small shake of your head, you stood up and squeezed Celebrimbor’s shoulder kindly.

“I shall take my leave, dear friend.”

Turning away from him, you made for the exit. As you passed Annatar, you paused briefly when his shoulder gently touched yours. With a subtle movement of your head, you spoke in a low whisper meant only for his ears.

“If you are the cause for my friend’s unhappiness, you will not like the consequences that I will bring upon you.” You warned.

Annatar said nothing in reply, in fact, he merely smiled. A gesture that normally felt warm but in that moment had an icy bite to it. You had hoped he would argue but as he chose to remain silent in your presence, you left the room hoping that he understood.

~ More imagines here ~

[morganas-pendragons]

wash away the blood | celebrimbor

gif by beaulesbian

this idea was WAY too good for my little brain to pass up. I'm gonna keep writing these regardless of what happens to him (I have 2 hurt/comfort fics for Celebrimbor in my drafts... let me know what else you want to see!) and this was born from my desire to hug Celebrimbor and never let go.

this still follows the elf reader for my past fic Ease and is a female reader + the prompt is ''river'' and ''blood'' (which I came up with myself LOL)

LIGHT SPOILERS FOR 2x07 READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

His entire being aches down to the very core of his soul. His hands are bloodied, and his cheeks are cut up and bruised, but Celebrimbor cannot help but allow himself this one moment of comfort as Galadriel stands in front of him and cradles his face like he is the most precious thing in this world.

The hearts of his kin were always far bigger than he could comprehend.

"I built this city. My place is here."

Galadriel shook her head. "No," She replied. "Your place is with her, far away from Sauron's influence. I will take The Nine for you. You dare not face him alone."

Like a being straight out of his dreams, Celebrimbor watches you emerge from the darkness of Eregion's ruins with all the desperation of a woman just trying to save the man she loves. The two of you had been separated in the explosion. Your own form mirrors that of the injuries he has obtained since coming out of the Forge.

That is the promise you made to him, after all. A promise of rescue.

It was the one thing he could count on amid the illusion.

"Celebrimbor, my love," You slip your staff over your shoulders and approach him with haste, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him as he leans his weight into the warmth of your embrace. You have been an embodiment of safety and security since Annatar showed up. You had proven to him that despite his misgivings, his pride, and his arrogance, he was worth more than simply the skills he had to offer Middle Earth. "She's right. We have to go. We have time to flee the city if we go now."

"Go to Lindon. You will be safe there," Galadriel assures. "Tell them it was I who sent you. I will buy you time."

Your face crumples when you feel his hand come to cradle your jaw and find it slick with blood. His thumb is missing. You feel the weight of him sinking into you further and shifting to accommodate as you turn yourself and Celebrimbor toward Galadriel. She has no argument. The Commander of the Northern Armies simply nods her confirmation and disappears into the shadow and flame.

Celebrimbor's quiet, agonized confession echoes soundlessly in your ears as you lead the way toward the Dwarven tunnel.

"All that loss, all that death... And it all remains on my hands."

You don't have anything to say to him. Bracing your hand against his hip, you lead the Smith you love to the horse at the end of the tunnel and help him into the saddle first. He is barely conscious by the time you sit behind him and gently pull his body into your own so he will sit upright.

A quiet sigh breaks past your lips as you press your chin into his shoulder and allow silent tears to fall. Celebrimbor follows suit, swallowing the knot in his throat as tears fall down the blood on his cheeks.

He can only manage a strangled whisper of, "I love you." before your fingers are pressed against his stomach, murmuring in Quenya under your breath as he falls into unconsciousness.

***

The first thing Celebrimbor feels upon waking is warmth. His entire being is warm. The crackle of a fire echoes beside him as he slowly opens his eyes, greeted with a twilight sky and the gentle hum of a voice somewhere above him as fingers card through his hair.

He feigns sleep for another moment to bask in the moment. It is the first true moment of safety he has felt in weeks.

"Good morning, my love." You murmur. Celebrimbor forces his eyes open again to gaze upon your face and softens. You look the picture of beauty, even with your unkempt hair and ash and blood upon your cheeks. "You've been asleep for two days."

Well. That was mostly true. Sauron's influence had not fully lost its grip until you were well out of Eregion's reach, and in that time, he had attempted to attack you twice and had left bruises on you. You chalked it up to exhaustion and delirium. He would not. Celebrimbor would never forgive himself for it.

"I seem to be a mess," He said quietly. You pressed your hands against his shoulders and slowly helped him to sit up. The forest around you was quiet save for the chatter of creatures and bird song. There was no war to be seen for miles. "And here you are, taking care of me yet again."

"I love you. What happened in Eregion and what Sauron did does not change that." You said firmly. Reaching over him, you produce a bag of fruits and nuts you'd obtained earlier that morning while he slept. "I do however want you to try to eat."

He almost immediately complies, were it not for the shock of seeing his hand healed.

Celebrimbor's eyes snap to you in astonishment as he runs his other hand over where his injured thumb is. He remembered being in agonizing pain, remembered the gentle lull of your voice and the warmth of silver light engulfing him.

It was you.

"You..." His voice falters, leaving you an opportunity to interject if you so wish to. You did not dare. His voice had been taken from him for so long that you would never put him in a position where he could not speak his thoughts and feelings again. "It was mangled when we left Eregion. Bloodied. What did you do?"

You tap your circlet and wiggle your fingers. "I told you I have healing magic. It's just one thing I've remembered how to do." You said. "But I cannot heal weariness. That only comes with time."

Your eyes are fixated on his mouth as his tongue slides across one of the berries before disappearing behind his lips.

The air between you is thick with tension, electrified by your growing desire for him. He knows it. So do you, but you do not wish to overstep, especially when he is in this state. That is what prompts Celebrimbor to motion toward the river and then to his robes.

"I believe we are both in need of a cleansing. I am too weak to do it on my own." He states. Realization flickers behind your eyes as he sets the bag of food aside before gesturing for your hand. "Would you guide me to the river, My Lady?"

How are you supposed to say no when he's looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon in the sky, like you are an emissary sent straight from the Valar themselves, ever the image of true beauty?

Despite knowing you love him and he loves you, he still has such capacity to reduce you into a stuttering mess.

You nod wordlessly and stand to your feet. He's still hesitant to be in the open, as is expected, but there is something about your protection in Celebrimbor's most vulnerable moment that puts him at ease as you two trek the distance to the river.

It only occurs to you upon spotting its banks that this is the first time since you will see him fully unclothed. It's not like the massage when you met. It's more intimate. It's vulnerable.

"My love," Celebrimbor's voice breaks through your reverie as you step into the sand. "I believe I may need help removing these old things. I don't know what use they will be anymore. Can you assist me?"

You don't know why you're hesitating. You love him. He's made it clear he loves you too, and no one else in this world has ever made you feel so safe. He'd taken such good care of you when you arrived in Eregion. Alone and destitute, The Lord of the Elven Smiths had brought you under his wing as you sought out refuge from the world around you. From your lack of memories, from your lack of trust.

And then he'd shown you what pure love looked like. You had been his ever since.

"Lift your arms." You murmur low in his ear. Celebrimbor complies, wincing as the fabric grazes a wound on his side before he finds himself free of the confines of his robes. His underclothes do not fare much better. "I'm sorry, Celebrimbor."

"Whatever for? You are not to blame for this."

"I'm sorry that he inflicted such pain upon you. You have a kind and gracious heart that only wished to fulfill a legacy you feel is an expectation of being from the House of Feanör," You state as you slowly lead him into the water just enough to where it dips beneath your waist. You are still dressed in your own clothes. The armor you'd worn during the Siege has long been discarded. "And I'm sorry he used you as a means to his own end."

"I survived." He replies. You lean outward as his good hand catches your face, seeking out the warmth and comfort of a desired touch as his thumb traces your lips. "You were my only truth amid all the deceit."

You allow him to draw you to him as he bends his head to meet your mouth, sighing softly in response as you press your hands to his chest. It is a sweet and short kiss that conveys nothing short of Celebrimbor's gratitude that you have stood by his side throughout it all.

When you are the first to pull away, you bend down to cup your hands and fill them with water. "It'll be easier for me to wash your hair if you are kneeling. Would you?"

"Of course."

The next few minutes pass in silence as you wash the blood from his hair. The water of the river tinges red as you continue, working your fingers through his curls and deep against his scalp to ensure you have removed all of the dirt and grime that has settled there. He tips his head into your hands, at your total mercy, and allows his eyes to flicker across your aspect as you continue.

"Okay," You remark. "That is your hair. The rest-"

"I would very much like it to be your turn." He interjects. You raise a brow at his forwardness and laugh as his cheeks tinge pink. "If you'll allow it."

You turn your body toward him and lift your hair to allow him access to the fastenings of your clothing. You are just as bloodied as he is, skin smeared with orc and elf blood.

A shiver runs down your spine as Celebrimbors fingers graze the curve of your back, loosening each fastening before your shirt is loose and heavy with water. You nod your confirmation and watch it fly back in the direction of the shoreline where his robes sit.

You kneel and peer up at him through your hair. You're so glad he's here. You were so sure that Sauron was going to kill him.

''Hey, hey. What are these tears for?" He asks, urgency and concern lingering in his tone as he kneels to meet you in the water.

"I thought-" You swallow your fear and screw your eyes shut as your forehead seeks his own. Celebrimbor softens. He's always admired your ability to be vulnerable with him. To let him see your heart in a way no one else ever has. "I thought Sauron was going to kill you. Kill you, make me watch-"

He'd thought the same thing.

Celebrimbor runs his fingers over the bruises on your cheeks before shaking his head. "You and Galadriel made me see reason. You got me out. You took care of me and tended to my wounds. No one else would have been able to break through his influence like you did. And now that we are here?" You open your eyes and sigh as water descends through your hair and down your neck. "Let us be cleansed of Him."

So that's exactly what happens. Minutes feel like hours as you keep him afloat atop the water and help him wash his body of the war you have left behind. Even though Celebrimbor struggles, he does the same to you, cradling you with such a tenderness that it makes your heart ache.

When you are both cleansed, you stop him from returning to the shore with a kiss that takes his breath away. Celebrimbor is only just able to return the kiss with equal fervor when he manages to get your feet out from beneath you and topples you into the water.

Laughter echoes in the air as you sink below the water before you pull yourself back up, flabbergasted that he'd pulled such a move.

Then you see why.

Celebrimbor is smiling.

He may not be as whole as he once was, oh no, but he's still the most beautiful person you know. That soul is so gentle despite all he has endured.

Precious.

"You're staring."

You snap to attention at his remark and grin. You can't help it. "I love you." You reply. His response is immediate: That smile you love so much as he slowly chases you through the water with all the strength you both can muster before you both collapse on the boulder where your clothes are drying.

Sauron has no influence here. Not anymore.

[prettyshinnythings]

Resurrection Chapter 2

pairings: Sauron x Reader, Adar x reader

Warnings: This is for readers 18+. This chapter contains mentions of smutty activities. There will be smut in the next part if anyone wants that! Please do not read if you're under 18.

This is my first fic on this blog.

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

My breathing hitched in my throat as I stepped from the outside world and into the tent where Adar kept his prisoner king. Inside the tent, there was barely any light, what little light there was came from a dim lamp beside the support beam keeping the tent from collapsing in on itself. Cautiously, I hold my bag to my body, my fingers gripping the sturdy leather of the bag. It had been my idea to bring something to treat whatever wounds the king sustained in Adar’s interrogation. I knew that he could get quite rough whenever he felt the situation called for it. 

Breathing a deep sigh, I take a step further into the tent, allowing the flaps to close behind me, and making the room darker. 

The prisoner doesn’t say anything as I softly walk along the uneven dirt ground. He does not even bother to acknowledge me until I sit on the stool resting in front of the support beam. I set the bag down before sitting on the stool, my eyes finding the man sitting across from me. He has dark brown locks that fall just past his jaw, and his face is handsome, even with the bruising. He lifts his eyes to meet mine slowly, his stubble-covered jaw lifting up in defiance of the pain that I know he’s in. When he looks at me, an undetectable look flickers in his eyes. A moment of recognition that I could not understand. I had never seen this man before, but there was something about him that felt familiar. Even with a cut on his lips, he still manages to smirk up at me. 

“Well, look at you…”

His gaze intensifies as he looks at me over. The dress Adar had suggested for me to wear fit along my body like a second skin. The dark black fabric made me look like I was a member of a lavish court in a wealthy kingdom. The lower cut of the dress seemed particularly interesting to him. 

“... Adar sent in someone pretty to look at. Tell me, love, are you supposed to get me to talk?”

My eyes move from his handsome face to the chain around his neck. Seeing him like that sent a curious shiver up my spine and I was not entirely sure why. Did I like seeing him in chains? I try to shake the thought from my head and force myself to meet his gaze once again. The look on his face has changed slightly, as if he had read my mind. A dark chuckle escapes him as I attempt to remain focused.

“I simply want to ease your suffering, your Majesty. I know Adar can be quite rough when he feels like he is not getting what he wants.” 

My voice is small, and reserved, as I look at him. I attempt to focus on my breathing whilst I do this. Whoever this man was, I felt this pull that I had never felt before. Like the man from my dream. 

My words bring about new amusement on his handsome face. Again, as if he knew what I’d just thought. 

“Have a lot of experience with Adar’s roughness have you? What exactly is an elf doing with a Uruk who is terrorizing my people? Do you love him?”

I feel my stomach turn at his questions. The latter half sounded almost angry as if I was his lover who had betrayed him by being with Adar. I cannot discern what it is exactly that has upset the king, but I do not bite the bait.

“I simply wanted to help you. If my presence is a problem then I will let the guards continue to do what they do to get answers out of you. Though I would hate to bring any more harm to you, your Majesty.” 

Remaining calm, I reach down for my bag and attempt to stand up from the stool. I knew it had been a bad idea to try and get him to talk. But the second that I stand from my spot, he breathes a pained sigh.

“You do not have to go. Forgive me, I am just curious. You do not have to answer if you do not want to.” 

The smirk remains on his face as he says this. His eyes watched me closely to see if I still decided to go. 

Cautiously, I dare to move closer to the king of the Southlands. I sit beside him, placing my bag on the ground near my feet. I do not speak as I reach into the bag and pull out a cloth and a bottle of gin. Opening the gin I take a swig of it and sigh in contentment as I feel the warmth of the gin cascading down the back of my throat. A welcomed sensation that contrasted with the coldness of the tent. I give the king a small smile as I tilt the bottle in his direction, offering him a sip. Hesitantly, he lets me put the bottle to his lips as I pour the gin down his throat. Once I feel like he’s had a few decent swallows I pull the bottle from his lips. 

We lock eyes for only a moment when I pull the bottle away, his gaze seeming to darken at my closer proximity. I feel my breathing hitch and I have to force myself to look away. Turning my attention to the cloth, I pour a decent amount onto the cloth before daring to speak to him. 

“Can I touch you?”

I whisper, momentarily daring to look at him once more. He swallows hard and nods, unable to speak suddenly. With his permission I lean in, my hand holding the cloth on his bloodied lip. He does not flinch when the alcohol touches his skin and I start to clean the spot as gently as possible. I move the cloth from his lip after a few moments before pulling it away from him, the blood almost completely gone. 

“I am sorry that he has hurt your people, my lord. He does not tell me what he does once he leaves the confines of our shared tent. He thinks I am too weak to handle the truth of what he does. What he has his children do.” 

I pour more gin on the cloth and move it to wash his face, clean his face, and softly exfoliate any potential cuts he may have received. Not once does he look away from me, his gaze calculating as he anticipates what I will do next. 

“Adar saved me when I was a younger elf maiden. My parents were both slain and I was the only survivor. He has taken care of me for a long time. I know our pairing seems odd, but he was the first one to care for me and keep me safe.” 

I pour more gin on the cloth and then turn my attention to his hands, carefully cleaning them. He has strong hands. I wonder what they would feel like around my…

I mentally shake the thought from my head before letting it fully form. His voice cut through the silence that had befallen us once again. 

“You look like someone I knew once. You could be her exact copy…”

He pauses as I finish my work. He waits until I put the lid on the bottle and put it back into my bag with the cloth before speaking. 

“... Would you come closer?” 

He asks the question quietly but it is my willingness to comply that shocks me. Without speaking a single word I stand up and move my body to straddle his. Our eyes locked together as I sat in his lap. I am unsure of why his question compelled me to do this, but here I was. Here, mere inches away from his face. 

His eyes move from mine to my lips, the smirk he had worn earlier slowly creeping back onto his face. 

“Show me your chest and torso.”

My breathing hitches as he says this, my mind in a compliant haze. Without any hesitation I pull my arms out of my sleeves. He licks his lips when I pull the fabric down and reveal full access to my exposed breasts. I feel my heartbeat quicken as he watches me pull the fabric further to show the top of my torso. I had been born with scars along my chest and torso. It looked like I’d been cut deeply by something very sharp. My whole life those marks had marred my skin, to the point where I did not wear certain clothing because the scars were so unappealing to look at. 

He seems deeply transfixed by my scars as his bound hands reach out, stopping before making complete contact with my flesh. 

“Can I touch you?”

He asks as I had only moments before. Without thinking twice I nod, watching him closely. Slowly he uses his fingers to lightly trace over the marks on my torso, his brow furrowed as he does. I could not quite understand what the look on his face meant, but there was a pain etched into his expression like I was some ghost he never thought he would see again. 

“I know…” 

I start breathlessly, my body suddenly on edge. I feel a chill move up my spine and my stomach turns in anticipation of what he will do next. A wetness started to form in between my legs. A dark chuckle brushes past his lips, seeming to note the way my body has changed beneath his touch. 

“... I know they’re ugly to look at. I was born with these markings. My parents used to try and cover them up because they are so unsightly.”

His fingertips are light along my body, so light that I almost feel like I imagined them. My comment causes his brow to furrow as his eyes flick up from the markings to my face. His bound fingers lightly move from the marks on my torso to the one on my chest right above my heart. 

“You’re beautiful. Your birthmarks do not take that away.”

My heart skips when he says this and suddenly I am all too aware of how close his lips are to mine. There is an arrogance that moves across his face when he sees that I have fully taken in our current predicament. 

“What do you know of Sauron your majesty?”

I whisper, his lips ghosting over mine. My eyes flutter shut and he chuckles. I am trying to stay on task now that I realized how much I had quickly played into his hands. I was in his lap with the whole top part of my body exposed to him. This was certainly not what Adar had wanted.

Adar.

“Call me Halbrand.”

He rasps and kisses me deeply, my lips are powerless to deny how good he feels against me. I am quick to return the kiss with as much passion as he offers me. I gasp when his bound hands grasp my breast, his thumbs toying with my hardened nipple. He shudders against me when my hips roll against his. My body is desperate for friction. I can feel myself getting caught up in this heated exchange. I would give myself over to this man without a second thought… well until I thought of Adar once again. This time when I think about him I break the kiss and look at Halbrand. My heart is beating so fast that I am surprised that he cannot see the outline of it thumping in my chest. 

“Halbrand… Please tell me about Sauron.”

I pull my head back to look at him, my body’s desire for him reflected in my face. I wondered what he thought of me at that moment. Did he think I was an easy fuck? Or did he feel it too? This strange connection that I could not understand. A dangerous look pulsates beneath the surface of the smile he gives me. He tilts his head back against the wall and I feel the frustration boiling within me at the smug look that overtakes his face. 

“He is closer than you could ever imagine, Sweetling.” 

My eyes widen at the nickname and instantly I remember being called Sweetling before…

In my dream. 

How could he have known about it? 

“Is this funny to you Halbrand? Do you enjoy being locked in here? If you tell me what you know I can speak with Adar. I could convince him to let you go without you befalling any more harm.” 

At this, he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. He looks me over once again, amused that he has given me nothing but I was here partially naked before him. 

“How will you convince him, hmm? Will you suck his cock and tell him how much you love him? Will you let him fuck your pretty little pussy? Is that what you will do? Meanwhile, Middle Earth is suffering, but I bet that does not matter to you as long as you are his whore.”

When he finishes speaking all of the wind in my lungs feels as if it has left my body. Halbrand looked back at me like I had done something awful to him. As if I had betrayed him in some personal way. I cannot stop the tears that form in my eyes at his words. Instead, I get up off of his lap and pull my dress back up over my exposed chest, concealing myself once more. I refuse to look at him as I bend down to pick up the bag, but when I do his hands grasp my arm. I want to pull out of his grasp but find that I cannot. I am too overcome with emotion to push him away. No one had ever said those words to me before. Sure, I knew what the uruks thought of my relationship with Adar. Some loved me, others did not. I knew what people thought of me when they found me standing at Adar’s side. But no one had ever voiced those feelings out loud. 

“Halbrand.”

I whimper, forcing myself to look over at him. The tears in my eyes have softened his expression as he watched me cautiously. 

“What is your name, Sweetling.”

He asks, his tone careful. 

“(Y/n).”

I feel like a child who has been scolded when I speak to him as if I was in trouble. 

“(Y/n), Sauron has taken a new form. I know not where he resides, only that he does not look the same as Adar remembers.”

The information he provides does not have a moment to sink in before Adar’s voice sounds from behind me. 

“Halbrand, do not touch (y/n). She is mine.”

My blood seems to freeze when Adar calls me his. Suddenly, it did not feel as comforting as it had this morning when I had awoken in his bed. Halbrand does let go of my arm and when he does I reach down to grab my bag before walking over to Adar’s side. He peers down at me with an unreadable expression. Almost as if he knew that I had gone too far. As if he felt the shift that had happened the moment Halbrand’s lips were on mine. He pulls me in against him, his hands on my waist. Adar’s lips find the side of my face, but there is no comfort that I feel from the action. 

“She was someone else’s at one point was she not lord father? Or at least someone whose likeness she shares. But you knew that already didn’t you?”

Halbrand’s voice breaks through the uncomfortable tension that had manifested in the room. At this statement, I peer up at Adar in confusion. What could Halbrand have meant? I take a few steps back from Adar, my eyes wide as I look at him. A deep sigh escaped my lover before he glanced past me to Halbrand. 

“During the first age, Sauron had a messenger who became his mistress. The name Morgoth gave her was Thuringwethil. But she was known amongst the uruks who served Sauron as a different name. (Y/n), was the one he loved more than anything. He would have done anything for her, but on the night of his coronation, something terrible happened. He had sent her to take one final message and during that journey, she was killed when she came across the hound of Valinor. Sauron never learned of her passing because I killed him before he was able to learn the fate of his mistress…”

I feel my skin crawl at his words. Not because I was disturbed by them, but because they felt familiar to me. As if my body could recall every memory he recounted. Adar’s gaze finds mine, his lips pulled into a tight line. 

“...When I found you I was shocked by how much you looked like Thuringwethil. Every single part of you is her perfect likeness, apart from the fact that you are an elf. You have her face, her hair, her body, and those same scars that Morgoth had etched into Thuringwethil. When I found you I knew that I had to have you. That having you was the perfect revenge against Sauron and what he put my children through. If Thuringwethil was his true love in his past life then I wanted to make sure that, he would never have her again.”

When he finishes speaking, he takes a step forward, his hand outstretched to take mine in his. I am in shock by everything he has just said, so much so that I just stare at him. My body is unmoving as if I had turned into a statue. Everything I had known to be true had been flipped on its head. Every piece of my relationship with Adar seemed to pass through my mind like a demented illusion. And worst of all, it hurt because I had believed that Adar had loved me for me. Not because I looked like someone he had known. Not because of his anger with Sauron.

“How do you even know that I am her? What if I just look like her?”

I ask in quiet desperation, pleading for some sort of explainable reasoning. Adar gives my hand a squeeze and nods.

“Sometimes, when you dream you say his name. His true name that not many know. You said it this morning when you woke up. I do not believe that is a coincidence.”

My brow furrows as I think back to the name of the man from my dream and I feel my heart stop. Cautiously, I look up at Adar before mumbling feebly. 

“Marion.”

[system-to-the-madness]

All the Time - Elrond x Reader

Pairing: LotR!Elrond x fem!Elf!Reader Genre: hurt/comfort Word Count: 1 818 Warnings: depression/melancholia(?), mentions of the war and Sauron Summary: Elrond comes to search for you when you don’t attend a feast in Rivendell

At the sound of familiar steps approaching the room, you turned your head away from the doorway, facing out into the night covered valley instead. Snowflakes danced in the air, carried on gusts of cold winter wind. The steps halted in the doorway, the Elf who had approached doubtlessly taking in your turned away form, your pulled up shoulders as you were laying stretched out on the daybed, non-verbally making your disinterest in his presence known by not acknowledging him. After a moment’s hesitation, or consideration, he entered the room nonetheless, the gentle call of your name falling from his lips.

You could not help the shiver that went through you, as anytime Elrond addressed you by name. For centuries you had resided in Imladris, and it was more than friendship that bound you to the Elvenlord by now, no matter how long it had gone unacknowledged by either of you.

His steps halted mere inches from the daybed, and a moment later, he lightly placed his hand on your shoulder. Even through the warm layers of the winter dress you could feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his palm soothing the dark ache in your heart. For a few seconds he stood like that, just resting his hand on you, before he gently squeezed your shoulder and drew away.

Almost you expected him to turn and leave you alone again, but you should have known the Lord of Imladris better than that. Instead of leaving you to the weight that still rested on your shoulders, even now that the war was over, he pushed the fabric of your skirt aside and settled behind you, his backside lightly brushing against your calves. It was no offensive contact, but instead one that, as Elrond’s touch did so often, conveyed the assurance that he was with you, and that no matter your sorrow, he would not abandon you.

For a long while you sat like that, feeling his eyes on the side of your face and the warmth of his body against your calves while your own focus was more on him than the snowflakes your eyes were turned towards.

“Why have you come,” you eventually settled on asking, your voice sounding weaker than you meant to.

“Because you have not,” Elrond answered in his ever patient and even tone. There was no reproach in his voice, he simply answered your question. “The celebration is in full swing, and I was missing your presence.”

“Don’t hold it against me, but I do not feel like celebrating tonight,” you mumbled, curling your fingers into the fabric of the pillow your head was resting on.

“As long as you don’t hold my concern for you against me,” Elrond answered, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder again. 

Considering the Elves’ respect for personal space, Elrond had always been rather physically affectionate with you, you thought to yourself. Hugs after hunts, a hand on the shoulder when he was concerned or proud, or on the small of the back when he was guiding you alongside him. Never had his touch brought anything but comfort into your heart, and even now, when all you wanted to do was shut yourself off from the world, you could not help but feel like the soft gesture lessened the weight you felt.

“You have been quiet these past days, my friend, and I dearly miss the light you always carry. Will you not tell what is weighing down your mind so we may share the burden?”

You inhaled deeply, the clean, crisp air of winter, warmed only by the elven magic that encased Imladris. 

“It is not a burden that can be shared,” you answered, finally turning and sitting up. 

Elrond’s hand slipped off your shoulder, but found your fingers instead, cold to the touch, making his eyebrows furrow before he took your other hand as well, bringing them together between his to warm them. 

“Then what kind of burden is it,” he asked, looking from your hands to your eyes, searching for an answer in them.

“It feels like-” You took another deep breath, feeling as if the night outside the windows was suffocating you. “It feels like the dark that came into the world with Sauron still lingers. And the longer the nights grow, the stronger his power. I know he has been destroyed, and yet… the scars he has left on this world have not yet healed.”

“They will not heal for a long time,” Elrond agreed, “Too many have lost their lives, their loved ones, have fallen victim to injury and pain. Too great is the wound Sauron and Saruman have ripped into the face of Middle-Earth. There is no shame to feel that pain, especially not when the sun barely rises over the mountains and stars are hidden from sight by clouds heavy with snow.”

“It makes me think of the clouds over Mordor, even though I fully know the ones here are only filled with snow, not the dark magic or Morgoth’s servant.”

Elrond’s eyes hesitantly pulled away from your features and instead directed outwards where a thin layer of snow settled on the leaves that had not fallen yet. 

“I do not believe there was ever anyone I told this to, but for years, decades even after the first ring war, I felt the same way about clouds,” he admitted. “I sometimes even feared the night when the stars were in the sky, feeling as if Sauron’s armoured hand was clasping around my throat. It was not for a long time before I saw beauty in the dark, star-sprinkled sky again, not until-”

Expectantly you tried catching his gaze, that was absentmindedly directed into the valley of Rivendell.

“Not until?”

“Not until you came here,” he admitted, finally looking back at you. His grey eyes seemed to be glowing in the dim light of candles lighting the room, and another shiver ran through you, one that almost had you throw your arms around his neck and bury your head under his chin to press as close as you might. “It was only then that I felt like the stars were shining again, only then that the dark clouds lost their threat and returned to what they were, clouds. And I so desperately wish I could return the beauty of nature back into your eyes the way you have done for me. But I am not just aware that we are very different people, with very different experiences, but also that close to a century passed before I found the light of the stars again, and that it has only been a few months for you.”

Something in the way Elrond spoke made your heart ache sweetly, and you turned your hands in his so you could hold his hands in yours.

“I’m glad to know I played a part in you seeing the world for its wonders again. And while I grieve for the time you did not, it gives me hope I too will overcome this darkness one day.”

“You will,” Elrond assured you, touching his forehead to yours. “The darkness seems unending, especially when the nights are as long as now. But the sun will rise, and the shadow will be banned from Middle-Earth just as from your heart. If you wish to stay alone for now, I will see to it that you will be disturbed no more, and if you want company, I offer my own. But should you wish to join the celebrations, I would like to join them with you.”

After a moment of contemplation, you nodded. “Yes, I think,” you agreed. “I think I will join you. But Elrond, wait-” 

The Elf had, with a hopeful smile on his lips already pulled away again but was stopped by your words and your hand reaching up to his chin to catch him in the motion. Curious eyes glimmered in grey back at you as your finger brushed over his skin. Making a fast decision, scared your courage might leave you were you not to act immediately, you leant forward, brushing your lips against his, if only just for a short moment. His lips were soft and warm, just like any touch he had ever shared with you, but the euphoria at the small contact was unmatched, especially when you pulled away and he tried chasing your lips, eyes still closed. Giving in, you placed a second kiss on him, one that made the corners of his mouth tuck upwards, before his eyes fluttered open again, and he regarded you with the softest expression.

“Meleth nin,” he whispered into the space between you, as if he were in joyous disbelief at your action. “I take this as the sign that my affections are returned?”

You smiled, the first real smile in weeks since the sun had forsaken the valley and the winter had gathered its clouds. But Elrond would always be the one to bring light into your heart and a smile to your lips. “Was there any doubt?”

“Only a fool’s doubt,” he replied, his eyes searching your whole face, taking in every detail as if he only truly got to see you now. “Yet a fool it seems I am.”

“No fool,” you disagreed gently, “The Lord of Imladris and the one who holds my heart.”

“Then I shall watch and guard the one with as much care and responsibility as the other, since I shall not have to worry about my own heart while it is with you.”

Your smile widened and you shook your head in amusement as you got up from the daybed, Elrond following your motion, his eyes still glued to your face. “Your words are like poetry,” you teased, making him shrug while he reached for your hand.

“How are you to know they are not part of the songs I wrote with none but you in mind,” he responded in the same teasing manner as his fingers intertwined with you.

“Then, I suppose, where those words came from, there are more, and in due time I shall want to hear as many of them as you will reveal.”

“If you wish so, I shall read them to you,” Elrond agreed as he guided you into the corridor and away from the dark windows. “But a word of warning. There are more of them than I would wish to admit even in front of myself.”

“Well, meleth nin,” you spoke lightly, feeling a shiver run through Elrond at the use of the sweet name, before he squeezed your hand tighter, “I do believe we have time for that.”

“All the time we need,” Elrond agreed, guiding you to walk closer to him as he led you through the dark towards the celebration with food and music and dance in the fire-lit halls of Imladris.

[markantonys]

Top 5 Adar who FUCKS moments?

LMAO okay, just off the top of my head and in no particular order:

-the one that made us all collectively Lose Our Minds. i'm so glad i caught up with ROP just in time that this could be my first (maybe second) live episode and i could experience the mass Awakening™ that occurred because of this moment.

-he likes to be held at knifepoint by girlbosses but he ALSO likes to choke out twinks. he has the range.

-making halbrand put his head in the dirt at his feet to swear loyalty to him. he was fully suspecting halbrand was sauron at this point and STILL chose to humiliate him even further and piss him off even more AND be kinky about it in the process, just because he could.

-sitting atop his throne in the 1 moment of true contentment he got to have in between thousands of years of torment and then more shit immediately hitting the fan

-screencaps don't do this one near enough justice, but when he fiiiiiinally enters the battlefield in 2x07 and just TANKS through everyone there (and catches an arrow in midair). he 👏 fucks 👏

and honorable mentions to:

"[calmly puts out the flaming arrow galadriel shot at him with his hand] a star shines on the hour of our meeting, lady galadriel" like sir leave some rizz for the rest of us good god (in hindsight i think this was probably my Hot Adar Who Fucks awakening and my adariel shipping awakening, and then the knife-throat moment in the next episode just solidified it)

"why didn't you defeat sauron back then?" "because i hadn't yet met you" or whatever, once again, leave some rizz for the rest of us

channeling his inner mr. darcy by creating some period-drama-5-alarm-spice Hand Shots with galadriel

"you have the beauty of your foremother and if you've also inherited her wisdom then you'll know you can't defeat me in battle" just tell elrond you want him to be your pretty little sugar baby, it would be quicker

i will also add an s1 moment, when galadriel threatens to obliterate him and calls him an orc and puts a knife to his throat and he just looks at her and quietly corrects her "uruk" and almost smiles a little, homeboy was Ready to be on the receiving end of some knifeplay but alas sauron interrupted

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

Perfect illusion (Sauron x Celebrimbor’s daughter!reader)

-> in which you have to sit by your father’s side as Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

Warnings: No romance, just angst. You marry Annatar (+ implied smut) when you don’t know he’s Sauron, so there’s all the emotional torment and consent issues that come with that. Uncomfortable touching (not smut) after you find out he’s Sauron. Manipulation, mind control and victim blaming as per canon

You sit in your chair, watching your father work. A familiar thing, which you have done a million times before. Before, however, there had never been a shackle around his wrist, or blood marring his brow. There had never been rubble scattered about the workplace, or the sound of battle coming through the window. Before, there had never been The Dark Lord standing behind you, his hands weighing you down as though the ceiling had collapsed upon you.

That is not to say that they are forceful. No, his touch is soft, as it has always been, his fingers brushing your hair gently, almost absent-mindedly. At times they reach your neck or your cheek, grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. You dig your nails painfully into your own hands to keep from trembling. It’s the least, even if the most inconsequential thing, that you can still do—to deny him this small satisfaction.

“Stop that,” Sauron says, his voice deceivingly gentle as he gives your shoulder a warning squeeze. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Of course, that only makes you want to clench your fists harder. But you force yourself to open them, mindful of what might happen if you disobey.

“You once took comfort in my touch,” he says. If you knew no better, you’d believe the sorrow in his voice is genuine. “It is only comfort I wish to give you now as well.”

His knuckles brush your cheek, painfully tender and excruciatingly familiar. Though you’ve been trying to keep as still as possible, you cannot help but turn your face away, if only just an inch.

His hand stills mid-air, then returns to your shoulder. He takes a breath, quiet but long and deep.

“I have caused you suffering. That is true,” he admits, patiently. “But I assure you that this too shall pass. Once Middle-Earth is healed, and the people will see what we did here... your feelings will change.”

You can’t help how your breath quickens, chest trembling with anger. It only becomes worse when Sauron puts his fingers to your chin, coaxing you to twist your neck and look up into his piercing eyes. “You must know it pains me,” he says, “treating you like—”

“Like you have treated countless others?” your father intercedes in haste.

Sauron’s attention turns to Celebrimbor then, as your father had no doubt hoped it would. The whole time he’d been working, his eyes kept straying to you, as if to make sure you are still alive and whole. To your relief, Sauron removes his hand from your face. To your dread, he is now moving towards Celebrimbor, displeased with his remark.

“Like Morgoth treated me,” he corrects, hovering over your father.

You are not bound. You could, in theory, try to run. But you are not foolish enough to believe you could escape. Any such attempt would only earn you a shackle of your own, similar to your father’s. Though, you’re starting to believe that the cold bite of metal might just be more bearable than the silent imprisonment of your husband’s touch.

Your husband. The word twists in your stomach, carves holes into your heart. It all came so naturally to you when you spoke the vows and sealed the bond. Now, you can’t imagine how you got here. All you know are the facts of what happened, and even those no longer seem to make sense in your weakened mind.

You know who you used to be, when the world still made sense: daughter of Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elven smiths. You think his talents mixed with your mother’s magic may have resulted in your gift to manipulate materials in particular ways which do not necessarily come naturally. You know the mithril had refused to be coaxed into joining with the other metals without your intervention. You know Halbrand had been the one to suggest that you try it.

You know how easily he had endeared himself to you from the moment you met, and how confusing and sharp the pain had been when he disappeared without a trace. You know how quick you had been to let him into Eregion when he returned, despite Galadriel’s inexplicable request that you refrain from doing so.

You know the transition from Halbrand to Annatar had been unexpected, if not jarring, but in the end the pull you felt towards him was unchanged. You know there were touches, desire... trust.

You no longer know why. Because there never was a reason—not a true one, anyway. Only his deception, his mind games. But at the time, you didn’t know. At the time, it had made perfect sense when, one night, you had found yourself at the dining table, anxious about giving your father the news of what had happened a mere few hours prior.

Annatar was to your side, sitting at the head of the long table, while your father was across from you. He may be the Lord of Eregion, but he had insisted that an emissary of the Valar should take the most important seat. Yet despite your father’s deep admiration for Annatar, you were not sure how he would react.

“As you know,” you began tentatively, “Lord Annatar has been a close and trusted friend to me, these past few weeks. As he has been to you.”

“Indeed,” your father nodded. His unsure smile and knitted brow told you he was at a loss for what you were leading up to. You opened your mouth, but found yourself quite tongue-tied. You glanced at Annatar, who graciously took over.

“However,” he continued, lips forming a gentle, almost bashful smile, “after a time, we found that there were... deeper feelings between us.”

Though he was speaking to Celebrimbor, his gaze sought yours. You met it, heart fluttering as he wrapped your hand in his, resting them on the table in such a way that the new ring on your finger was in your father’s line of sight.

“Annatar has proposed marriage, father,” you finally say, turning to him. “And I have accepted.”

Your father blinked, eyebrows lifting in an expression of wordless surprise. When words failed to leave his mouth, Annatar took it upon himself to break the silence once more.

“My friend, I...” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant in his choice of words. “I am well aware I should have asked for your blessing beforehand. Especially since things have progressed with such unusual haste, but—”

“Oh, nonsense!” your father burst out, as if finally regaining his senses. “Nonsense, my friend, this...” A short laugh bubbled out of him as he turned to you with a face-splitting grin. “Such wonderful news! Oh, my dear,” he took your hand in his, gazing in wonder upon your betrothal ring before he pressed a kiss filled with fatherly love to your knuckles. “You could not have found a better match,” he praised.

“The same is true for myself,” Annatar said, giving you that kind smile of his that never failed to have you return it.

Relief washed over you. All was well.

You’d be lying to say there isn’t a part of you that resents your father for giving you away so eagerly. He could not stop you no matter who you chose to wed, but with anyone else, he’d have at the very least warned you that the engagement had happened much too quickly. He’d have been more cautious of your betrothed, tried to determine whether or not their intentions towards you were true. But Annatar, in your father’s eyes, was of divine nature, and the thought of becoming kin with one of his kind had filled your father with such pride, it overshadowed all else.

You wonder if he is as ashamed of that moment now as you are. And of everything that came after.

You’re not sure if speaking the wedding vows had somehow allowed Sauron better dominion over your mind, or if you were simply too far gone by then. Little by little, more and more over time, you came to depend on your husband. When your father began acting strange and ill-tempered, Annatar alone knew of his ailment, and he alone could help him heal. He alone could provide the comfort you needed as you watched your father lose himself by the day, unaware that the same was happening to you.

He always knew when and what to say to bring you peace. He never seemed to leave your side, whether in the presence of others or alone. And you craved being alone with him more than anything else. He was an expert lover, so attuned to the needs of your flesh, it was as though he could slither beneath your skin and discern for himself which of his touches felt the most exquisite. Being near him was a delight in itself, but intimacy with him was simply addictive.

Warm morning light flooded through your window, and you wondered how you were supposed to ever leave this bed. Lying on your husband’s chest, skin to skin in the afterglow of your love-making, everything else in the world seemed so inconsequential in comparison.

“Do you ever sleep?” you asked, wondering suddenly how it had never crossed your mind before. He was always by your side as you drifted to sleep—most often spent from yet another passionate exchange—and he was there to greet you each time you awoke. Yet he was not of your kind, and an emissary of the Valar seemed to you above such things as sleep.

“It is not in my nature to sleep,” he admitted, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down your spine. “But I rather enjoy laying by your side as you do.”

Your heart soared at the quiet adoration in his voice. And before long, you found yourself aching for him once more. You brushed his neck with your lips, lightly at first, and then with more insistence, making your desire known.

“Again?” he asked, faintly amused.

You lifted your head, the smallest furrow in your brow. “Does it bother you?”

“Not in the least,” he replied. If that wasn’t reassurance enough, his lips caught yours, and he moved so that your body was safely beneath his, and even the thousandth time would not have been enough.

You can still taste his kisses—and they feel like ash. You remember how each time you became one, it felt better, but only now can you see how it made things so much worse. A corner of your mind, growing larger by the day, was always occupied by him. Each time you aided in the making of one of your father’s Ring designs, you did so with thoughts of Annatar. You know now why he wanted it that way—your craving for his touch, your utter devotion to him, seeping into the Rings the Power, one by one. You think you might have known even then. But he was always careful not to push you too far, to bring you back from the brink of suspicion before it ever started to take shape in your mind.

Even when the reality of things was undeniable before your eyes.

Your last night before finding out had been spent in a dreadful haze. Sleep felt more like a waking prison as you dreamt of terrible, yet distant things, hearing screams without seeing where they came from, seeing blood and ashes on streets you felt you should but could not recognize. You were grateful to wake up and see the sunlit sky beyond your window. Its light adorned your husband’s hair beautifully, the familiar sight of him sitting on the edge of your bed bringing you further relief.

“There you are,” he greeted softly, brow creased with a trace of concern. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“What—?” Your attempt to speak ended in a cough, as if you’d been breathing dust instead of air. Annatar left your side in haste, returning but a moment later with a glass of water.

“Here,” he said, putting the glass to your lips. You took it gladly, relishing the water soothing your throat. Once Annatar had helped you sit up and settle against the pillows, you asked, as you had meant to, “What happened?”

There was pity in his gaze. “Don’t you remember, my love?”

You shut your eyes, trying to grasp at figments of blurry images. “I was outside, I think. Mirdania was there. And you. And...”

Annatar shook his head, speaking as softly as if to a frightened child. “Earlier in the day, perhaps. When you collapsed, you were in the forge, with me and Lord Celebrimbor. When you sought to aid your father in merging the metals for his latest attempt at the Nine, your efforts over these past weeks took their toll on you.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, fingers brushing your cheek. “You fell right into my arms.”

“I did?”

His words did evoke images. The memory was there, somewhere. But the more you tried to reach for it, the more your insides churned.

“Be at ease,” Annatar soothed. “You merely slept through the night. I have watched over you all the while, and I shall do so until you are better.”

Better. Yes, you would get better.

But you knew, deep in your bones, that you were not well. The sense of dread within you refused to recede, lingering in the furthest corner of your mind even in the moments where you felt the safest. Something deeply rooted in you wanted it all to be over—the work, the forging, the ailments, your father’s as well as yours. You wished so desperately for things to return to the way they used to be before the Rings, it felt as though a great fist had clenched around your heart and refused to release it. But then again, before the Rings, there hadn’t been Annatar. And your need for him hurt just as terribly.

In the end, everything hurt. Everything.

“Are you in pain?” your husband murmured. You hadn’t realized tears were already sliding down your cheeks.

You broke into sobs.

He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped you in his arms. It became even harder to breathe, and you clung to him all the harder for it, desperate to find that peace that he had offered you time and again.

“Hush, my love,” he cooed, holding you close to his chest as you wept for reasons unknown. “All will be well soon.”

You had fallen into his arms, just like he’d said. Only, you hadn’t been inside the forge, but outside, just as your mind had fruitlessly struggled to remind you. You were there when the siege alarms began to blare and chaos erupted in the streets. When you saw your husband walk amongst it, you had run to him at once. Asking where your father was, wanting to stand united with your kin amidst the unfolding madness.

Darkness had engulfed your vision instead, shrouding your memory as well. He must have carried you back to your chambers himself, crafting an illusion within your mind to match the one in which Celebrimbor was already trapped.

It makes sense now. How desperately you had clung to the very source of your misery. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking sea water, but you, in your foolishness, had drunk enough to drain the sea.

“You chose it,” he now tells your father, speaking of the suffering he had inflicted, “not I.”

And there’s a part of you that believes him, even as another screams inside you that his words are poison. You cling desperately to the scrap of reason within you which recognizes that his claims are atrocious—that it is Celebrimbor who forced Sauron to torment him, that he is the true author of his own torment. You watch in disbelief, feeling as though you’re falling through the floor, waiting for your father to refute Sauron’s lies as if hearing the truth spoken out loud will save you from shattering to pieces at the bottom of the abyss.

And you can tell he wants to. There is defiance in Celebrimbor’s eyes as he glances to you, the fire of his will still burning beneath the burden of his torment. But, slowly and surely, he tames it. Averts his gaze in shame.

“Very well,” your father says. “Give me the blame. Punish me as you see fit. You have already taken my city. But I beg you,” his voice trembles, tears gathering in his eyes, “let my daughter leave.”

A smirk tugs at Sauron’s lips. “Your daughter...” He returns to your side, gathering your stiff hand in his and thumbing your wedding ring. “...is my wife, Celebrimbor. It is only natural that she should remain at my side.”

You and Celebrimbor exchange a despairing glance. Your father, determined to plea for your freedom—you, fearing the consequences he might bring upon himself.

“Please—”

“Father, don’t—”

“No!” he cries out. “I all but pushed you into his arms.” Tears slip from his regret-filled eyes. “That is my fault.”

Sauron takes a seat next to you, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t possibly grasp the reason for such grievances.

“She has given herself to me freely,” he says, your hand still trapped in his as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have you not?”

You glare daggers at him.

“How could I have chosen you freely, when I never knew who you were?” you hiss. It does nothing to deter him.

“Why do you lie to yourself? You knew.” You shake your head. He nods his, insisting, “Yes. Deep within your heart, you knew.”

“Don’t say such things to her,” Celebrimbor pleads, “I beg you—”

“Such things as the truth, Celebrimbor?” Sauron asks roughly, irritated by the interruption. “Tell him, my dear wife,” he challenges, “that you never once suspected I was more than what I claimed to be. That you never felt the caress of darkness within my touch.”

You cannot look at him, or at your father. You cannot speak those words, however desperately you wish you could.

“Tell him,” Sauron insists cruelly, squeezing your hand to the point of near pain.

“I did,” you murmur miserably. Sauron loosens his threatening grip on your hand, pleased.

“Yet even as you cried yourself to sleep in fear of it,” he goes on, “it was within my arms that you took comfort. Because, in truth, you were not afraid of who I was—you were afraid of how little it mattered to you.” A last spark of defiance drives you to make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his sickly sympathetic smile makes you shudder within his hold. “He needed to create,” he reasons. “You needed to be desired. And I needed you both.”

His arm is no longer around you, but the relief is meager and short-lived as he then cups your cheek, thumb catching the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes. He insists to hold his hand there as you flinch, screwing your eyes shut. A small sigh leaves him.

“Have I not treated you well?” he asks. “Was I not kind to you when you most needed it? A caring husband, a most... generous lover?”

“Hold your wicked tongue!” you all but growl, your head jerking with enough force that he retracts his hand. Your eyes fly to Celebrimbor, and see that he has shut his in great pain. Shame crawls under your skin. Sauron smiles in a mockery of bashfulness.

“Forgive me for speaking of such matters before your father, but it is only the truth. You must admit that. And it need not change.”

His hand returns to your cheek then, pressed more firmly to it, and you only now realize it’s the one he cut. You feel a warm wetness on your skin, and know that once he removes it, his blood, black as the pitch, would be smeared there, marking you even further as his.

“The Rings are nearly finished,” you say through gritted teeth. “You never truly desired me. What more use could you have of me?”

“Who says I never desired you?” he whispers, almost as if wounded. “I would not have made you my wife, if it hadn’t been my wish to make you my Queen as well.”

His voice is so alluring, so saccharine and familiar to your ears, it takes everything in you to remind yourself that every word is a lie. And if you grasp at reason, you can tell why he speaks them. Because of your involvement in making the Rings, you would always have some measure of influence over them, so it serves him well to have you under his control. But not only that. He would relish knowing he has subdued you to his will. That he not only ensnared the mind of the greatest of Elven smiths, but also claimed his daughter as his prize.

A storm brews in Sauron’s eyes as he senses your persisting reluctance. His fingers grip your chin, pulling you close so that his breath falls on your cheek as he speaks.

“You will say yes to me once more.”

You hate how determined he is to make it so. You hate how helpless you are to do anything other than glare back at him.

But what you hate the most is that you are not certain he is wrong.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt iii

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, more ships/love triangles to come, though, so stay tuned.

Summary: the deciver has decided he must get rid of you until a stranger reignites his curiosity in an unexpected way.

Word count: 2k

Notes: let me know if you wanna be tagged. I was not expecting this many people to like this fic. Thank you so much for the feed back, I read every comment and reblog multiple times. Keep any and all feedback coming. I'm super invested in this series and have so many plans that I'm so excited to write.

Tags/warning: male masturbation, nothing super explicit but sauron has some pretty unhealthy kinks, slow burn, saurons post nut clarity is murder plotting, sauron being sauron. galadriel finally shows up, cliffhanger

Series Masterlist

“She does nothing but sit there, day in and day out. Our rations are wasted on her!” 

“All of us sit and do nothing because there is fucking nothing to do.”

Halbrand and the older man were fighting again. Halbrand had become annoyed that the other had declared himself the de facto leader of the raft, and his anger exploded when it was proclaimed you had not 'earned' your rations. He had obviously found it absolutely insane and when you made no sound or protest, he took it upon himself to make it known how insane it was. 

“I am the leader here. I have organized the rations, I have kept order, and I have directed where we go.” The other man seemed offended. He had proven himself to be rather arrogant, and you held no surprise that he would suggest such a thing or believe that he was the leader of the raft.

“Oh great Lord of the Raft. How difficult your job must be. Deciding if we die a little to the west or a little to the east.” Halbrand rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

“Be sarcastic all you want. She's lucky we don't throw her in.” 

The air stilled and a dark shadow passed over Halbrands face, his jaw clenched and in a moment he had grabbed the other by their shirt, “The moment you do that is the moment I feed you and every single person on this raft to the wyrm.” Their faces merely inches apart,  Halbrands voice was cold, full of hatred, and it sent a chill over everyone on the raft. The older man stared up at him with fear, a fear so palpable and intense that it was as if he was looking into the eyes of the great foe himself. 

“Halbrand,” you spoke softly, fingers gently wrapping around his wrist and moving him away. “This is not what I wish.”

He turned to look at you and his gaze softened,tongue peaking out to wet his lips. The air flowed again, and the darkness lifted, “You wish to starve? Because that's his wish, that's his plan. He wants to make our supply of food last longer by taking the very little portion you have. He knows you would never say anything to him, and you can not ask me to sit back and watch you starve, sweet one.” His eyes searched your face as he spoke with such earnest conviction. 

“I do not wish for you to murder in my name,” you replied in a passionate whisper. 

Halbrand nodded, sighing softly, “Then I will not,” he leaned closer to you, so his lips were next to your ear, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. Your breath caught in your voice as he whispered softly, “Know that I would, though. If you only asked, I would burn this raft and everyone on it to keep you safe.” 

He pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you stood speechless. The butterflies in your stomach exploded. This was new. Your interactions had been purely platonic until this point. He never presented himself as someone more than a friend, and you had been content with that. Yet you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your forehead and greatly missed them when they were gone. 

The talk of murdering everyone else was one you didn't wish to dwell on. Perhaps it was hyperbolic. Perhaps said in anger. Either way, those were thoughts for another time. Now, you would embrace the shivers and butterflies. 

“Well, your highness, she will be eating today and I will ensure it,” Halbrand gave the man a pointed look and the other simply nodded, his eyes still swimming as if he'd seen some great horror but you were too fixated on the ghost of Halbrands kiss that lingered on your forehead to pay it much mind. 

~

He'd taken the deception too far when he placed that kiss upon your head. He regretted it the moment he did it. The taste of your skin stained his lips, and it was all he could think of. Your skin felt unbelievably soft and he could just imagine what your lips would taste like, your tongue, your cunt. 

Your cunt. The thought of it had been all consuming. Warm and wet. Soft and velvety. He ached to feel it, to taste it, to take it. The thoughts had led to his current position, standing at the edge of the raft with his cock in his fist. This act felt below him but the thoughts wouldn't leave his mind and he needed some relief from them. From the thoughts of you. 

Thoughts of your cunt. 

Warm and wet. Soft and velvet. 

His eyes fluttered, and his breath caught in his throat. He hated every second of this. He had no control. Ever since you looked up at him with those eyes of yours, eyes he wanted to make weep as you choked on his cock. He breathed a soft curse as he imagined your sweet, innocent eyes looking up at him with your lips wrapped around his cock. His thumb collected the precum from his tip and worked it around his shaft, the soft wet sounds filling the night. 

Would you be inexperienced?  Had someone claimed you before? You were his and his alone, his precious sweet one. The thought of someone else having you first filled him with such rage. He would drench his hands in their blood and paint your body with it as he fucked you. His hands around your neck, squeezing enough to feel your life thrumming underneath his fingers. 

You were his and his alone. No one else could touch you, no other lips taste you, no other cock take you. He'd burn all of Middle Earth to ensure it, torture any man who dared look at you. He'd carve his name into your flesh, lick the blood off your skin. A growl escaped his lips, the thought of his name scared into your soft skin. His hand tightened around his cock and his movements increased in speed. 

His breathing got more ragged as he got closer to his peak,  your name tumbling past his lips in a choked whisper. He could almost imagine you whining and whimpering his name, his real name.  That was what sent him over, the visual of you impaled on his cock and desperately calling his name. He groaned loudly, his seed shooting into the water. 

Breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Almost immediately, the cacophony of thoughts entered his mind. That had been a brief reprieve, but now his existential crisis continued. What was his purpose? Who was he now that his master was dead? Power and control, how could he have both without sacrificing the other?  

And then your smiling face flashed through his mind, the sound of your laugh...-

This couldn't continue. No amount of curiosity was worth this loss of control. He was a god, but his mind as of late had been reminiscent of a teenage boy. Thoughts may plague him, but he would forget you within the age. He needed you gone, dead. The longer you stayed alive, the longer these damn lustful thoughts would plague him and be his undoing. He was slowly losing his sanity because of you. 

The problem was he couldn't do it. He tried mere minutes before giving into these urges, but as he looked at your sleeping face, he couldn't bring himself to push you in and under the waves. In thousands of years, no one had been able to still his blade or stay his hand with such ease. He couldn't look at you and take your life. He could not be the one to do it, that thought alone proving to be more a reason for your death. Weakness was not something he would tolerate. 

His mind called out to wyrm, calling it to their location. If he couldn't do it, he'd give the task to something else. By nightfall tomorrow, you'd be gone. You'd be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the beast. By nightfall, he'd have his mind back. 

Why did the thought of your death fill him with such dread?

~

He wouldn't even look at you. You'd greeted him in the morning, and he ignored you. You sat next to him, and he moved to the other side of the raft. You watched as his eyes bore into planks of the raft. You wet your lips and pulled it between your teeth. He was your first friend in a very long time, and now you had lost him for reasons that escaped you.  You were utterly alone, lost at sea, and you struggled to find hope here. All you could do is close your eyes and remind yourself that falling into despair would do nothing more than make the situation worse and more hopeless.

You watched the clouds pass in the sky, counting them, and your fingers tapped away at the wood. Every few moments, you had to blink away the tears that had started welling in your eyes as you thought of losing another person you cared for. Suddenly, you sat up as you heard what you thought was a voice in the air. You squinted as your eyes examined the fog.

“There's a voice on the water.” You spoke quietly. 

Almost instantly, bickering broke amongst the others. To save her or not. You shook your head, “We're not leaving her to starve and die!” 

One of the others pulled her up and gave her water as you grabbed her a chunk of bread and looked for a piece of cloth or something that could bring the stranger some warmth. The bickering continued as you searched and returned with a piece of bread.

“Suppose you'll be sharing your rations?” the old man asked. 

You couldn't help the roll of your eyes, “Damn the rations,” you kneeled and handed the stranger the bread. “It's not much, but it's something. Are you hurt?” 

Before she could answer, one of the others asked, “What are you doing out here?”  

The stranger took the bread, “I was separated from my ship.” 

You looked at her with empathy. Of course, you could understand. She looked over at you as if to answer your question next, but she stopped, her eyes examining your face as if she knew you but was unable to place how. It made you uncomfortable, made your heart still. Has your past caught up with you all the way out here? 

“She doesn't look dangerous,” the other woman spoke.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Halbrand spoke, and you were about to protest when you saw the point to her ears. Your blood ran cold, and you moved back from her. 

“Remove your hand from me, sir,” the stranger spoke, her attention returning to you. “I know your face.”

You quickly stood up and stepped back. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. Perhaps the elf could save you, or perhaps she would convince the others to throw you into the sea. The sins of your father would never stop chasing you, it seemed. 

~

“I know your face."

His head snapped your direction at this revelation. What did that mean? How would an elf know you? He watched your reaction, the fear and shame passing over your face confirming that there was a story there. He cursed silently.

All day, he avoided looking at you. All day, he had convinced himself that you were nothing more than a naive human, that the warmth he felt had to be in relation to this new form getting used to the world around him. There was nothing special about you. Nothing at all. He repeated it over and over, though he never really believed it. He could sense the darkness and calamity swimming through the ocean towards them, the beast he had called, and he had convinced himself that your death would solve his internal struggle. 

But now, this damn elf had reignited the curiosity with vigor. It felt as if an inferno burnt through him. He had to know more. He knew when the wyrm came, he would be unable to leave you to death. You were the most curious thing, and it was infuriating. 

Who were you? 

previous next

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (II)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You only have a few days to convince Adar that he should keep you alive and choose you as his companion. You get to know him better, which makes you start feeling sorry for him – but not sorry enough to forgive him for defeating your lover. In the meantime, Adar's suspicions about Sauron's comeback give you hope.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! 🤗 Thank you for liking the first part of this story and I am sorry it's going a bit slower than I expected but I am job hunting at the moment and I might actually get one, which is an opportunity for me. Because of that, I was pretty busy those past few days + I have started a different multichapter fic as well. Please, keep your fingers crossed! 😊 Although, if I don't get the job, I will have more time for writing... 🤣 Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 5,120

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (II)

You spent the rest of the day in your chambers, watching the courtyard carefully from your window. The orcs were walking around it carefreely as if the saint trees did not grow there. They could not care less about anything holy. And at night they started a fire to sit around it while talking and laughing loudly in the most obscene manner. But because they went to sleep so late, they also were not up early – unlike you.

You got dressed in a black mourning gown, which was a beautiful piece made of velvet and lace. You were grieving in many ways after all – you were grieving your life that you could lose very soon and you were grieving the downfall of the fortress that had been your home for such a long time.

When you were finishing getting dressed, you looked out of the window and furrowed your brows at the sight of Adar approaching the holy trees and sitting on a bench underneath them. Was it possible that he prayed? You highly doubted that – even you were finding it difficult these days after the time you had spent with Sauron. An Elf as corrupted as Adar just could not pray, of that you were sure.

In that quiet moment in the early morning, you found your first chance to approach him but with a different attitude than on the day before. However, you were aware that the change of behaviour cannot be too sudden – otherwise, it would reek of falsehood.

Taking light steps, you walked up to Adar and even though he had to hear you coming, he did not even flinch. Only when you were very close to him, he turned his head around to look at you without a word. You did not say anything either and took a seat on the other side of the bench, clasping your hands on your lap and staring at the tree above you. He eventually stopped observing you and went back to looking at the tree as well.

“Do you pray to the Valars?” You asked calmly but with a hint of curiosity. Your eyes still remained on the benches of the tree, though. You refused to lock your eyes with him. Not yet.

Adar was not answering for a while, which made you grow nervous. But, thankfully, he eventually answered your question. Well, kind of.

“Do you?” He inquired without looking at you either.

“Nobody listens to my prayers,” you said, “but I like to come here and think.”

Adar nodded and the long silence occurred again. You were fidgeting with your fingers nervously throughout all that time but you didn’t mind him noticing that. You knew what kind of person you had to play – tough, mysterious and intriguing in a way. With a hint of darkness that would make him curious but also with a hint of innocence and nervousness that would make him feel compassion. You were sure he was still able to do it since he could treat the Orcs like children. You wanted him to pity you in a way – to pity you enough to keep you alive. And to intrigue him enough to make him want to keep you with him.

“You wore black today,” he pointed out with a smirk and finally looked at you. You turned your head around to meet his gaze and you felt your cheeks heating up. His eyes were intense and so far you caught yourself feeling all the things you wanted him to feel towards you – you were intrigued by him but you also felt sorry.

“I mourn Ostirith,” you informed him and watched his reaction but there was really none. He was as cold as a stone on the outside like he was on the inside.

Adar looked up at the benches with leaves. You looked there, too, following his gaze and from the corner of your eye, you spotted him staring at your exposed neck. You wondered what was going inside his head. Was a man like him ever thinking of women in the same way as other men did? Was he ever craving someone to be by his side? He had to be lonely.

Perhaps, you had to make him realise how much. And that he did not have to be anymore.

“What happened to you?” You broke the silence and looked at him again, which made him furrow his brows with a hint of anger. You expected this sort of reaction, so you quickly backed out. “Forgive me…” You lowered your voice and looked down, nervously.

You hoped he wouldn’t walk away and indeed – he did not. That was part of the success already, you thought. You waited patiently for his next move.

“Morgoth happened to me. Sauron,” Adar explained after a long while of silence. At the sound of your lover’s name, you felt shivers go down your body and you moved uncomfortably. You hoped he hadn’t noticed but why would he suspect you to know any of these men personally? You were only a naive daughter of the Lord Guardian of the Southlands.

“What do you mean?” You laid your eyes on him again and batted your eyelashes, trying to show him compassion with the way you looked at him. Adar hesitated before answering more of your questions.

“I followed Morgoth out of my own curiosity and thirst for knowledge and power. And then I paid the price,” he explained, sparing you the details. You wondered if it was because they were too painful to talk about or was it because he found you too delicate for them.

“Is it justified to blame them for your downfall, Lord Father?” You dared to ask. “Was it not your own pride and greed that caused it?”

Adar chuckled at that as he tilted his head to take a better look at you. You did not shy away this time, showing your inner strength.

“You are not afraid of me, my Lady,” he pointed out.

“Why would I be? I only have a week of life to live,” you reminded him. “For an Elf, that is nothing. It makes no difference to me if you kill me then or now.”

“Why would I kill you for asking questions?” Adar shook his head. “Curiosity is no stranger to me,” he added and looked away, sadly. You remained silent for another long moment, allowing him to make a decision if he should keep talking or not. “I know I have only myself to blame for what happened although I have to admit I was naive. I hoped for more than suffering. There was only pain,” Adar’s voice turned into a whisper and he looked away. 

You felt sorry for him now. You knew Sauron’s nature and you knew it was a result of Morgoth’s training of pain and suffering. You were not surprised to find out that your lover could inflict the pain on others as well. Everyone Morgoth had ever hurt turned out to be broken creatures who wanted nothing but revenge.

“Well, they are gone now, aren’t they? Morgoth and Sauron?” You asked, playing naive.

“Morgoth, surely. I cannot be completely convinced about Sauron. He is of a cunning nature. I have defeated him once but I shall defeat him again if I must,” Adar’s jaw clenched as he explained and your heart skipped a beat.

So there he was – the murderer of your beloved, right in front of you. And even though you hated him with every fibre of your being, you had to play it cool and bat your eyelashes, hoping to seduce him enough to make him want you as his companion.

But the fact that even Adar did not believe in Sauron’s disappearance from this world was giving you hope. He would come back… Of  that you were sure. He would come back and make you his Queen.

Adar’s eyes were filled with fire and hatred whenever he spoke of Sauron, so you didn’t want to continue this conversation for now. You nodded and you stood up to leave after hearing that some of the Orcs were already entering the sacred courtyard and approaching their Lord Father.

“I shall retire for now,” you explained. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, Lord Father.”

“You do not have to lie,” he snorted.

“I do not lie,” you lied. “You are different than what I thought. Forgive my rapid judgement but I was driven by fear. Have a good day, Lord Father,” you bowed your head and walked away.

On your way out of the courtyard, you walked past the filthy Orcs. You were trying your best not to flinch or wince as their eyes were following you with curiosity that was deeply uncomfortable. You did not want creatures of this sort to have any interest in you.

Even though you were trying to view them as any other species of Middle-earth, you simply couldn’t. They were too hideous and too disgusting. You knew how unfair was your judgement but you were sure that all Elves would agree when it came to the Orcs. And so would humans. Perhaps some species had only been created to make others feel unsettled.

You spent the rest of that day with your mother, cheering her up. You felt bad for her because she would pay for the sins she had not committed. You were not pure anymore and in many ways you deserved to die. Your father had turned out to be a vile creature of no backbone. But your mother was pure and innocent and she had been begging for you all to run away. She could have run away alone but she would never abandon her family. And now – because of how dutiful and loyal she was – she would die…?

You could not let that happen.

On the second day you were informed that Adar was in the library, looking through your father’s ancient collection of manuscripts. You pretended that you had not known about it and you entered the room very naturally, without paying any attention to your guest. You picked up some random volume and sat by the table, a few chairs away from the Lord Father. You were wearing your black dress again.

Adar looked up at you for a moment but when he realised you were not in the mood to talk, he just decided to ignore you as well. In the meantime, you were looking through the pages of the book you had chosen and pretended to read it in silence but in reality you were observing him from the corner of your eye.

“Are they your children because they remind you of yourself?” You asked all of a sudden while biting on your lower lip. Adar froze and looked up to lay his eyes on you. He did not say anything, so you explained. “They are damaged and do not belong with any other species. Nobody loves them but you because you know what it is like to not be loved at all,” you pointed out.

“Your father was right about your nature,” Adar cracked a smile. “You have a great intuition, my Lady,” he bowed his head to you and you smiled at his compliment. “That is not all, though. My children and I have more in common. We were all hurt by Sauron,” he explained.

“How?” You asked and titled your head.

“He wanted to enslave my children and use them like mindless tools but they are not… They deserve to live in freedom and peace,” Adar explained to you. In many ways, you felt as if he was your father who was explaining things to you in a gentle and soft manner. He was explaining to a naive daughter how the world worked.

But that was not the dynamic you were aspiring for.

“You speak of peace as if you haven’t burnt villages on your way. As if you haven’t killed the men and women who had denied to follow you. And those who had bent their knees, you have marked them like cattle. Do not talk about peace to me, intruder, when you are the one who brought the war to these lands,” you spat out and closed your heavy volume angrily.

The sound echoed through the walls as the dust raised up and danced in the air. When it fell down and the echo subdued, Adar spoke again.

“If we came in peace and asked for a piece of land to live there, would your people accept us?” Adar asked and you pursed your lips. You knew very well your answer would be a lie. Elves and humans would never accept the Orcs. Even the dwarves would not do that. “Some creatures are born with their right to live and others must fight for it,” Adar added and went back to the manuscripts.

The doors opened with a squeak and one of the Orcs entered the library. He was the one you had spotted many times before around the Lord Father and you assumed he was the closest to Adar.

The Orc took a step back at the sight of you and lowered his head a little. You could not blame him for that because you were staring at him with so much intensity and anger that it would intimidate many. Still, it felt oddly nice to see they respected you just because they could see that your kin was equal to their Lord Father. 

Despite Sauron’s corruption, you still were the bearer of the light. Nobody could tell just yet that the very root of this light was rotting deep inside of you. Especially not a common Orc. To him, you were the beacon in the middle of the ruins.

“What is it, my son?” Adar asked him but the Orc only shook his head, refusing to speak. You spotted his small eyes staring at you and you only smirked. “Do not fear her. She is a friend,” Adar explained and you furrowed your brows at that but you did not say anything.

“Well, then, my Lord Father, I just wanted to bring you the message from our scouts,” the Orc walked up to the table and handed Adar a small piece of paper.

“Thank you,” Adar took it from him gently and read it. The Orc kept staring at you with curiosity.

“I shall retire to my chambers,” you stood up and walked past them to approach the doors.

The Orc bowed his head down after you and Adar looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing, my son? She is not your master,” he pointed out but you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because you walked out of the library. You wished to hear the rest of it but it would be too suspicious.

You wondered, though, why the Orcs really treated you this way. Perhaps it was not because of the light you were carrying – perhaps it was quite the opposite. What if it was them who could smell Sauron on you? Your lover had been the one who had tried to enslave them in the past. Sauron would never treat them like children and he would never be their father. He had wanted to be their master.

Seeing their fearsome and filthy army profanating your home, you somehow wanted to be their master, too. You understood Sauron now – having such an army could make you feel invincible. They respected nothing and they were hungry for blood. The only thing you could not understand was how Adar was able to trust his own children. Perhaps that should be the next question you would ask him.

On the third day you approached him in the courtyard again, still in the same black dress. This time he was sitting by the fire with the Orcs but when you walked up to him, you froze at the sight of a baby Orc sitting on his lap. You kept staring at this strange little creature with a mix of emotions – the baby was still innocent but it was not pure by any means. Because of its kin, it was doomed like the rest of them.

“Are you quite alright, my Lady?” Adar’s voice made you snap back to reality and you cursed yourself for not being the one to ask him a question first on that day.

“Yes, thank you, Lord Father,” you nodded and took a seat next to him that was empty. At the sight of you getting near the baby, the father approached Adar to take his offspring. It was the Orc from the library.

“He does not trust me,” you pointed out, although you would not trust yourself either if you were them.

“His name is Glûg,” Adar told you. “None of them trusts you. 

“Do you?” You asked and batted your eyelashes while laying your eyes on him. Adar turned his head around to look into your eyes but he was visibly confused, so you changed the tactic. “Do you trust them?”

“I do,” he nodded. “They are my children.”

“I would not trust them if they have so much in common with you,” you teased. “Do you trust yourself?”

“They are all I have,” Adar opened his hands to show you the emptiness of them.

“You are lonely,” your voice saddened as your eyes filled with compassion. It was forced but you were a trained actress and your greatest power was that no one knew about your studies or your teacher.

Adar did not like your insinuation. He moved uncomfortably and sighed as he shook his head.

“I thought higher of you, my Lady… But you are here to help your father’s agenda, are you not? You are trying to convince me,” he smirked. “I am not interested.”

“My father’s agenda is not my own. It has never been and never will be,” you clenched your jaw as your eyes filled with anger and hatred. You despised him being even mentioned and you had been successfully managing to avoid him those past few days. In fact, every reminder of being his daughter was making the blood in your veins boil. “I simply wanted to say I know what it is like to be lonely. I am, too. I have always been,” you looked into the fire, following the dancing flames with your eyes.

That was not a lie – not fully. There had been a time in your life when you hadn’t felt lonely and that was the time you had shared with Sauron. But it had not been a long time, especially compared to your whole long Elven life.

“It must be lonely for a young Elven woman to grow up in Ostirith,” Adar admitted. “Isolating.”

“It was,” you nodded, refusing to look at him again. You were scared that your current vulnerability would reveal your true self to him. “I understand you… In some ways. To have so many children, to be loved… That would surely feel good,” you admitted.

“No,” Adar shook his head. “You do not understand me. You would, if you were able to see them as your children, too. You would not preach to me about war and peace then but you would feel the need to protect them no matter what price,” he said.

“We protect what we love,” you agreed as you nodded. All you could think of was him – Sauron. Dying somewhere, all alone, killed by his own army, betrayed. And you had not been there to protect him but even if you had been… What would you do? You were not powerful enough to do anything but watch. “Even if it is a hopeless case,” you finished.

A short silence occurred and you could feel the Lord Father watching you with curiosity.

“My children are not a hopeless case,” he only said.

You stood up and wiped the single tear that had escaped your eyes before. The Orcs around the fire stopped their conversations and they looked up at you, observing your movements.

“I shall go to see my mother now,” you informed Adar and he nodded at you but you could feel his eyes following you out of the courtyard.

On the fourth day you wore a crimson red gown that had been a gift to you from Sauron. It was a risky move but your parents had believed it was a dress you had gotten yourself in Eregion so why would Adar question it? 

You felt somehow powerful while walking down the hallways of Ostirith with all the Orcs moving out of your way, staring at you with a mix of curiosity, hatred and respect. You were on your way out of the fortress because you had seen through your window Adar walking out earlier. He was probably taking a walk in the forest surrounding the fortress and you missed walking, too.

The Orcs standing by the gate did not want to let you pass, though.

“Lord Father says your family can’t leave,” one of them drawled out as he looked you up and down, pointing his dagger at you.

“I am going to him. To your Lord Father,” you tried to reason with him in a calm manner.

“I don’t believe you, Elf,” he spat out as if your kin was an insult.

“Let her go,” another voice interrupted you. You turned around and spotted Glûg. His small eyes found yours and nodded before looking down again. “Lord Father says Dark Lady is a friend.”

“Dark Lady?” You asked, surprised, but there was no time to question it because the Orcs standing by the gate hesitantly let you pass, so you just decided to use the opportunity to walk out of the fortress.

You knew they were observing you, so after crossing the bridge, you went down the same forest path you had seen Adar taking before. But when you found yourself deeper inside the woods, you actually considered taking another turn and disappearing forever.

Where would you go, though? To Gil-galad? He would immediately sense the darkness inside of you because he was made of pure light himself. And you would never forgive yourself for abandoning your mother.

No, because of her you had to follow the same path Adar had chosen. And so you did, until you found yourself by the cliff. He was sitting on the edge and staring at the Southlands below him. Those were the lands he still had not conquered.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps but he did not question how you had managed to get out of Ostirith.

“Are you not mourning anymore?” He asked at the sight of your dress.

“I have accepted my fate,” you took a seat next to him and took a deep breath at the sight of the Southlands. “Are you going to conquer it all?”

“If I must,” Adar nodded and you looked at his hands. He was holding a piece of paper there like the one Glûg had brought to him on the second day.

“Why do you send the scouts? What news do they bring?” You bit on your lower lip. You were not scared of asking questions anymore because he was not angry at you for being curious, which he had proven already.

“I have reasons to believe that Sauron is back,” Adar looked at you and you flinched. Thankfully, he must have taken that reaction as fear or disgust instead of blooming hope inside of your chest.

“And what about it?” You raised your eyebrow.

“I shall destroy him again. And again and again until my children are safe,” he answered with anger as his eyes filled with rage. Sauron was his weak spot.

“You hate Sauron more than you love your children,” you risked the statement. “You would do anything to avenge what he did to you, no matter the cost. Many of your children will die while you chase him,” you explained.

“I shall not watch him turn my children into slaves!” Adar squeezed his fist with the paper inside of it. His anger did not scare you, though. Somehow, the news about Sauron made you feel more fearless and more peaceful. Everything would be alright, all the pieces were coming together.

“Because if he does… You will be alone again. All alone,” you only pointed out softly and you stood up to walk away and go back to the fortress. “But you do not have to be.”

“Why would you follow me if not to save your life?” Adar asked and you froze after turning around already. You smiled to yourself nervously.

“Why do your children call me a Dark Lady?” You asked.

“They have not met an Elf like you before. You are different. Dark,” Adar explained.

“And you?” You turned your head around, confused.

“I am an Uruk,” he explained and you nodded.

“If I died now, I would still see Valinor. It would heal me and save me,” you revealed, “if I followed you, I would be doomed forever. Following you is not cowardice. It is an act of courage and a sacrifice.”

“Why?”

“I have always wanted more,” you admitted and turned your head around again to take the first step towards the forest but Adar wanted to ask one more question before you would go:

“If you could save only one person out of the whole fortress, who would it be?”

You did not hesitate with your answer. She was the reason for this all.

“My mother,” you told him.

On the fifth day you were sitting in the courtyard on the bench under the holy trees while the Orcs were sitting behind you by the fire. You could feel their eyes observing you but they were not bothering you and you were not bothering them. You were waiting for their Lord Father to join them to continue your game. You knew that you were running out of time.

Sitting there and looking up at the leaves, you were lost in your thoughts. You sighed and then you felt something pulling on the fabric of your dress. When you looked down, you saw the baby Orc staring up at you. At first, you winced out of disgust but you quickly hid that expression and the baby was too little to snitch on you later.

You looked around but you could not spot any worried parents looking for their offspring, so you assumed they still had not realised the baby was gone and you did not want to raise the alarm and bring everyone’s attention to yourself.

The baby Orc tugged on your dress again and then it lifted its hands up. You decided to give it a chance… Perhaps it would make you understand Adar better.

You picked the baby up gently and put it on your lap. The little Orc was actually interested in the leaves of the sacred Elven trees and it made you chuckle. You reached your hand to pick one of the leaves and use it to tickle the baby a little.

You heard familiar and heavy footsteps behind you so you turned your head around and you spotted Adar with Glûg beside him. They both froze at the sight but you did not care about the Orc at all, you focused on the Lord Father. You were staring into his cold eyes intensely as if you were challenging him.

“Forgive us, Dark Lady!” Glûg ran up to you to take his child from your arms. “Forgive my son for bothering you,” he bowed his head down.

You did not say anything to that but you handed the leaf to the baby so the little one would still have his new “toy” for a while longer. When Glûg walked away with his son, you laid your eyes on Adar again and he approached you slowly and sat next to you.

“I spoke with your father,” he started and you winced at yet another reminder of whose daughter you were. “Tomorrow at dawn by this tree,” he said and you could not understand the meaning of his words at first and then you realised he was handing you something.

A silver ring.

You nearly gasped at the sight. He claimed to be an Uruk but the traditions he followed were Elven. Where had he even taken it from? You assumed your father had given him one. You, however, were not prepared.

“I… I do not have one,” you admitted in a whisper.

“That is alright. Just have the golden one for tomorrow,” Adar attempted to actually make a joke and you cracked a nervous smile as you reached your hand towards him. “Are you sure, my Lady? There is no going back from this.”

“I am sure,” you nodded, trying to sound as firm as possible.

Oh, you were sure. You were sure that Sauron would come for you soon and he would be pleased with your cunning schemes that would help him in the end. That he would kiss you again like in the old days, that he would put the crown onto your head and make everyone in Middle-earth to bow down for you. And that he would be grateful for your sacrifice just to bring him justice… You were sure.

Adar nodded and put the ring onto your finger. When the act was done, long silence occurred between you two. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and he eventually held your hand in his, which nearly made you feel sorry for him for a moment.

“The days of loneliness are about to be over for us,” you tried to sound sweet but not too much because it would be suspicious. “I shall serve you with advice and companionship, Lord Father.”

Adar nodded at those words and his cold hand squeezed yours even tighter.

“I shall build a new life for us where we can be ourselves freely, Dark Lady.”

And when he let go of your hand to stand up and walk away, you truly felt bad for him. You hated him for hurting Sauron but he was more than that – he was hurt and sad. His pure Elven nature was twisted and the light of Valinor was gone from his soul. What he truly needed was healing even though it was too late for him now.

You would not bring that to him, though. You were a treacherous bearer of death and all you could think of on that night before your wedding was the moment when Sauron would save you and put a crown onto your head.

MASTERLIST

[interdimensionaltales]

Drifting back to you

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x reader

Word Count: 981

Warnings: besides not having been beta, for now, none. (this will probably change in the future)

Summary: What if you were on a quest to figure out why you're so different from your kind and ended up stranded at sea with Sauron himself disguised as a mortal Southlander? What is it that sets you apart? Can you find the answers and accept yourself? Why is Sauron, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, pretending to be a commoner? Trying to forget? Binding his time? Pretending nothing happened? On top of that, there's a force that brings you two together and keeps you both drifting back to each other again and again no matter how much he, or you both, try to deny it. And the power that he feels coming from you may be it or it may be love. That's what you both need to figure out.

PS: This probably has been done before, the idea is not revolutionary. I read a lot of fic, but my ship is Haladriel and other fandoms so I've never read anything like this and I'm a little bitch for someone powerful meeting their equal and questioning everything so... Here we are.

This is the first time I'm trying to write my own, please be kind, but feedback and advice are welcomed. English is not my first language. This fic is intended to be multichaptered, but I figured I'd post what I came up with first to see if I could get a boost or the very least some feedback that would help me to get to a full fic. Anyway, let me know if you guys think it has potential! Thanks for reading!

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There wasn't much that could bring you comfort in a strange land, with strange people and their customs. After what you have been through, one would think that any comfort would do. Being stranded at sea has a way of making people seek out the best that life has to offer once back on land, but for you, there wasn't much to find beside the company of the one you were stranded with. Halbrand. The tall brunette, with his calm stance and inquisitive eyes that came to be so familiar now. No matter what wonders you would find on this so-called island of Númenor, you always ended up drifting back to him. So there you were again at his shores.

''It's been a fortnight now, Halbrand,'' you said, pulling out a stool at one of the bar's table, sitting in defeat.'' A fortnight, they said we would be given a chance to get into a guild. What are they waiting for? What's taking so long? What are we supposed to do meanwhile?''

''Enjoy our stay.'' he replied, amusement plastered on his face when he saw the look on yours.

''I have, and now I'm ready to do something more meaningful. '' You sighed. You were so tired of this aimless days filled with ale and idle time. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed answers, you needed to understand what was happening to you and the only way to do that was to get into that tower, the library. ''There has to be a way to speed things up.'' you said and rested your face on your hands.

He looked at you with those lazy eyes, a soft gaze but ever inquisitive. Why were you so set on getting a job? It couldn't be just boredom, otherwise, you would have taken on any other jobs available. It has to be the tower, but what do you want to find there? You were rubbing your face in frustration but that didn't tell him any more than he already knew so he drank the rest of the content in his cup and spoke again.

''There are many ways,'' he said standing up, ''You just need to know how far are you willing to go.''

He gestured to you ''Let's go for a walk.''

Halbrand knew. He knew that whatever it was that he was feeling didn't have space in his life or in him right now. It never had, it couldn't have. He was given a second chance at peace if you could call it given. He should have just left, he should have started putting some distance between you two a while ago, nothing good comes from wanting more than you can have, even worse, deserve it. But there he was, walking around with you, listening to you, being captivated by you, and far worse, wanting to help you get what you want. So he stayed, just a while longer, he did indeed tell you to enjoy things a bit more, he was just following his own advice and basking in your presence while he could ignore that gnawing feeling in him. The one that kept telling him how starved he was of something only you could give him.

''Where are we going?'' You asked taking him out of his reverie. He looked at you and licked his lips, a reminiscence of those unwanted feelings still lingering in his mind and the thought of where you both could go flooded him making it harder to shove those feelings down.

''We are going to speed things up'' He said making his way into the busy streets. ''More often than not, life is nothing but a trade, ''he continued. ''If you want something you need to know what to give in return.''

''Halbrand,'' you called struggling to keep up, ''We can't buy our crest, there's nothing we can give in re-- Sorry.'' you said bumping into a stranger, which made you fall behind a bit so you rushed to catch up with him. ''Even if we could,'' you continued zigzagging your way into the crowd so you were just a couple steps behind him, ''We don't have any-'' when he turned around and you ran into him, your face right into his chest. ''-money.'' He held you in place by your arms, balancing you. People going around you both in the crowd. You were never this close to him before. Sure, on the raft, you had to sleep side by side for the lack of space, but nothing like this. You were so close you could taste the salt on his skin, he smelled of smoke, leather, and iron. You were just about to evaporate into smoke too if it wasn't for the feeling of those callous hands on your skin, condensing you into form. Taking a sharp breath, you looked at him. He was looking down, his gaze fixed on your face. A battle raging in his hazy eyes

The way you were pressed against him made him never want to let you go, he had barely managed to shove those feelings down, and with one touch of you, he was lost in it again. What was this? All he could think about was how he wanted to keep touching you. The softness of your skin was a foreign concept to him, nothing in his later life has ever felt like this. It made him think of before, of the beginning. Enough! This is madness. There's no going back and no way this could work. It took all the strength in him to let go of you. It's a waste of time, he thought, there's no way I deserve this. ''Let's go'' he said, but took your hand nonetheless, guiding you through the crowd.