#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

[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.

[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

[system-to-the-madness]

The Dark is But a Passing - Faramir x Reader

Pairing: Faramir x fem!Reader Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 265 Warnings: fear of the night, mentions of the war and Sauron Summary: Faramir finds you, late at night, keeping watch at a window

You got torn out of your thoughts by the sound of light steps on tiled floor. Even without turning, you knew it was no guard, too light the steps to belong to one of the armoured men guarding the citadel of Minas Tirith.

"I thought I saw light in here," the soft voice of the Steward spoke, as he stepped next to the window seat you had curled up in. "Why are you still awake, my Lady?"

"Sleep evaded me," you responded, finally looking up. Kind eyes met yours, crinkled with a soft smile. "What about you, my lord Faramir? A man as busy as yourself should value his sleep, shouldn't he?"

The look in Faramir's eyes grew distant for a moment, the light in them fading as a dark shadow pulled over his beautiful features. 

"The darkness seems deeper tonight," he answered slowly, "just as it did in the days of the war."

You watched him, as he stood next to you, dressed in a light blue tunic with silver stitching around the hems. His hair fell in soft locks past his shoulders and his water blue eyes carried a deep sadness you could not even begin to understand. The war had taken his beloved brother, and his father, driven mad from the pain had not only taken his own life, but also tried to take Faramir's.

Before you were quite aware of what you were doing, more instinct than anything, you reached over, closing your fingers around Faramir's. His skin was warm in your hand, and his fingers flexed, before he closed them around yours, taking them in a gentle hold. The darkness seemed to fade from his face and the light returned into his eyes. Giving you a small smile, he sat down in the nook next to you, directing his eyes out past the window.

"What drew you to this window of the many in Minas Tirith," he asked almost absentmindedly as he tried to spy what lay within the dark of the night past the glass.

"The view," you answered, tearing your eyes away from him and looking out as well.

"The view," Faramir echoed questioningly. "What view is it you see in the darkness?"

"Not the view I see now but the one I'm waiting for. The sunrise over the mountains in the east." You inhaled deeply, as if to take courage to speak the next words. "It is the longest night of the year, and tonight more than any other night it feels like the sun might never rise again. Like the shadow in the east is reborn in the long darkness of the night and if I were not to sit here, waiting for the sun, it would feel no need to try to fight the night anymore. It is stupid, but…"

"You're scared," Faramir concluded, his voice soft, as he pulled his own feet up into the nook, sitting more comfortably, mirroring your posture. "I understand that fear. It is still unusual to see the sun rise where once nothing but clouds and shadow dwelled. It feels as if tonight the world of men holds its breath, waiting to see if light once again will drive out darkness."

"It feels colder, this night," you mumbled. "I know it's but the winter air carrying the first snow but-"

"It is cold tonight," Faramir nodded. "But sitting against a cold window won't warm you up much when you are tired."

You knew the implication in his words, the unspoken question if it would not be wiser to retire to your bed and sleep under the warm covers to wake up to the sun over the mountains in the east. 

You were about to speak, about to explain that you just could not give in to the urge of sleep and comfort if it meant leaving the dark unattended, but before you could open your mouth, Faramir let go of your still intertwined hands, and reached for a blanket that had been stored in a basket next to the window and threw it over both your bodies.

With wonderment you watched his face as he busied himself with tucking the edges of the blanket into place. You had admired the Steward of Gondor for a long time, your heart tucking you towards his presence with a sweet ache and moments like tonight, not uncommon in the past months, made you wonder if your heart was not the only one that felt such affection. 

Faramir's eyes met yours, a glimmer sparking in them as he saw how softly you regarded him. 

"I would also go fetch a pillow if you wished so," he offered with raised eyebrows, making you shake your head with a smile.

"I should fear falling asleep if I were any more comfortable," you laughed quietly. 

"Then sleep," Faramir encouraged you, "I shall wake you when the horizon starts to brighten. Should it not be enough if one of us kept watch of the dark?"

"I cannot expect you to sacrifice your sleep for my irrational fear of the night," you protested, sitting up on your knees, alarmed Faramir would even offer such a service.

"You wouldn't," he disagreed. "Rather you would do me a favour, if I knew you rested comfortably."

You stared at him for a moment in disbelief. You could not take such an offer, could you? He was an important man, maybe the most important man after the King. He needed to be awake and have his wits together for his daily work. And still, he would offer his sleep for your comfort? But he was a proud man, and even though he would not show it, he would be disappointed if you rejected the offer.

"I wish I could," you answered slowly, still kneeling in front of where he had pulled his knees to his chest. "But I fear the cold of the dark will not let me find sleep."

"We might yet wither it together," Faramir offered, opening his arms invitingly.

For a moment you hesitated, uncertain whether the gesture meant what you thought it did, but when you carefully shifted towards him, he smiled with a nod and opened his arms further.

Settling into his side, between him and the window, Faramir adjusted the blanket over your bodies and gently pulled you closer so you could rest your head against his chest. Your heart was thundering against your rips so loudly you feared he would hear, as you shifted so you could look out of the window, but then you felt Faramir's heartbeat of equal speed, and a smile tugged at your lips. It was comforting to know his heart was just as excited as yours.

"Sleep now," Faramir encouraged, pressing a lingering kiss against the top of your head. "The darkness is but a passing. I shall keep watch and wake you before the first rays of the sun meet the white walls of the city."

"Thank you," you whispered, already lulled in by the warmth his body radiated, and a few moments later sleep had claimed you.

Faramir made sure you had fallen asleep before he inhaled deeply. It felt right, sitting here with you resting against his chest, as right as everything felt any time he got to spend time with you, although he had to admit he had not dared hoping you would welcome his affection. And as he sat staring out into the night, willing the sun to soon lighten the sky with her ascent, he felt the darkness brighten with you at his side.

[saanphoenix]

As mean as it is, I must stress, Solas threw spirits at Elgar'nan's front door because he had "his people" going up the back way to Steal The Lyrium Dagger.

They say "relic" in the scene itself, but going off the codices, the regret murals, the order of events, and what Solas himself says about what that "relic" can do, he means the Lyrium Dagger.

That was him risking the only shot they had to put an end to the Evanuris for good.

Like. Solas has personally tussled with Elgar'nan before. We've seen what state he was in afterwards. We've heard him tell Rook if Elgar'nan takes the field to Run unless that fucking Archdemon is dead.

Man's not afraid of "making the sacrifices required of leadership." Sometimes those sacrifices are his own life, and other times they are, unfortunately, his allies. But, like. That's the tragedy you get when you're the leader. You put everything on yourself. You can't really trust anyone else to do the job for you because the Entire World is at stake. YOU have to do the ritual to stop the Evanuris because YOU made the dagger, its enchantments, and are well-knowledgable about the blight. YOU can't be the one risking their life right now, so who do you choose? Who rides to the Black Gates to distract the Eye of Sauron while Frodo and Sam hike up Mount Doom?

The only thing that sits wrong with me is he didn't tell them it was a suicide mission.

But like. Would he have believed anyone would have willingly made that sacrifice? Would they have fought as hard as they did if they knew they had no shot of success? Would them knowing have tipped Elgar'nan off to the other plan because of how he can just get into minds?

Situation's fucked, but no more than dooming a city because you can't save both.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Thinking of fourth gen Finwëans because it always makes me laugh cause you have like:

Celebrimbor - born YT, killed Second Age

Idril - born YT, left First Age

Maeglin - born and killed in the mid First Age

Finduilas - born and killed in the mid First Age

Gil Galad - born First Age, killed very end of Second Age

Celebrian - born in Second Age, left mid Third Age

Just. The scale of time and experiences for Finwë’s grandchildren vs great grandchildren is wild 😂

Also they should totally have meet ups in Valinor. Elrond’s an honourary member.

But in terms of dynamics:

Celebrimbor + Gil Galad + Celebrian - Second Age besties. Get along like a house on fire to the older Finwëan generations ever increasing concern. Basically if Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin all got along (but switch some personalities and temperaments between them) and were left to their own devices. Add Elrond and we have the full house.

Finduilas + Celebrian - similar end of ME life experiences and idk. The vibes are there. First Cousins ftw.

Idril + Celebrimbor - Been through so much Rubbish from Fëanor and Fingolfin’s drama to the First Age chaos, they honestly just vibe. No hard feelings on either side. Fill in the younger members on the Family Lore.

Maeglin + Celebrimbor - Tyelpë’s feral adopted pet rat. “I was friends with Sauron, I can deal with this.” Forge buddies. Helping him adjust to society and come to terms with what was Morgoth’s fault and what was Maeglin himself.

Idril + Gil Galad - It weirds them out that they’re first cousins. Gil Galad’s lowkey annoyed that she left without at least saying hi. But he gets it.

Celebrian + Idril + Celebrimbor - Idril and Celebrian love their respective human/half-elf. Celebrimbor misses his mortal friends. They share all the stories.

Finduilas + Gil Galad - “…yeah we could probably be siblings. Also how was it away from the war but dealing with the fallout?”

Finduilas + Celebrimbor - Nargothrond besties. The first and only cousin she met. Finduilas is very much like a little sister to him.

Maeglin + Idril - Have a silent agreement to avoid each other unless others are around.

Maeglin + Celebrian - “What would you know of such matters, child.” “Born later, lived literally thousands of years longer than you, baby cousin.” Co-owns the feral pet rat with Celebrimbor. The only one who can match him word for word, her perceptiveness rivals his ‘sharp glance.’

Finduilas + Maeglin + Gil Galad - “don’t you just love inheriting curses?”

Finduilas + Idril - Architecture. These two come up with entire elaborate but functional plans in less than two hours. Probably built everyone’s houses. Celebrimbor sometimes joins.

Gil Galad + Maeglin - “You actually wanted to be crown prince???” “You didn’t??” “That explains so much.” Not surprised Maeglin got stuck in the family and High King curse. They don’t mind each other’s presence and pretty happily sit doing their own things in a room. Gil Galad’s doing this for Celebrian more than anyone else. AKA the reluctant pet sitter who got dragged into this mess by his best friends.

[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.

[fatcatlittlebox]

Something has been needling me since I first read that quote from Morfydd and it later caught fire on the webs:

What I had taken immediately for granted was that she meant that the relationship between Halbrand and Galadriel was intended to be platonic and it was Charlie who decided to add the extra heat and the hint of a romantic aspect. But in retrospect upon reading and watching his interviews I think it is the opposite -- were Halbrand and Galadriel originally meant to have been shown as more overtly falling in love? Was it written more explicitly as a love story rather than implied, as we eventually see?

First, we can recall that the very first promotions for the show had press descriptions of Halbrand as Galadriel’s “love interest”. Even the concept art showed more intimacy.

And I think this is the reason why I find it so interesting when I revisit some of the Haladriel scenes from season 1. Particularly the ones that Charlie and Morfydd had said they came up with the blocking for. And that clearly the director agreed with. I can appreciate that if the blocking were chosen differently, it would have changed the whole tenor of the scene and hence, the dynamics of their relationship. Take for instance, the log scene. Imagine if Galadriel and Halbrand had been simply standing and saying those words, looking upon each other. It would obviously be a conversation between lovers. A tone of romantic declaration. Imagine if Galadriel had been looking directly into Halbrand's eyes, bodies facing, when she said, "I felt it too."

But that's not what Charlie, Morfydd and the director went with and I like it even better. It was Charlie and Morfydd who collaborated and agreed that they would sit parallel and not looking at each other. The scene takes on a "confession". Which...Catholic. The symbolism here is great because as I have said before in previous metas, their original "sin" was when they chose each other over their gods. And here, in this "confessional" scene, as it is composed, they are performing the sacrament of reconciliation. With Galadriel and Sauron interchanging roles of penitent and priest. Galadriel is pledging allegiance, unbeknownst to her, to a fallen demigod and Sauron is seeking absolution from her, an exiled elf. A sinner asking for salvation from his accomplice. It is worshipful and sacrilegious.

As Charlie, and frequently supported by Morfydd, have said, their connection "transcends" romantic love. It is not a human, mortal emotion. It is cosmic. It disrupts the celestial hierarchy but is ultimately restorative to the universal harmony. It is their beginning and ending eternally. Where Sauron isn't just the biblical snake. He is the snake eating his own tail.

Love and hate. Light and dark. Life in defiance of death. And I would much rather have that. Galadriel and Sauron as emissaries of this cosmic balance, permanent fixtures in a primordial architecture. Destined to always be chasing the other. Gravitating, circling. Vigilant and yearning.

[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 ~

[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.

[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.

[princessofgondor]

walk with me // boromir x fem!reader 💖

Sauron is defeated, the war is over, and Gondor once again has a king. Boromir, now the Steward, wishes to speak with you about something.

Fellowship!Reader, Boromir Lives!AU, Post!ROTK, Fluff, In the same universe as my earlier Boromir fic 'Early Hours' (this fic is smut-free though), Briefly mentioned Faramir/Éowyn. 1381 Words. Author is still in the process of reading the LOTR books so this is movie-based! Thank you to @wings-and-beskar for the ask that inspired this fic!! I struggled deciding whether the reader in this story should be Fellowship!Reader or whether she should be Boromir's beloved waiting for him to come home, but I decided on Fellowship!Reader. It's not as long as I would have liked but I hope you all enjoy!

***

The world is so much more peaceful now.

The Ring has been destroyed, and Sauron defeated. Aragorn – or Elessar, as he is now known, though those who know him well still call him Aragorn – was crowned King, and the efforts to rebuild Minas Tirith are well underway. Boromir is adjusting to his new position as the Steward of Gondor, with paperwork and long council meetings replacing the war and bloodshed he was used to. He has been busy, but in the times you have seen him, he seems more content than ever before (excluding, perhaps, when the two of you are laying together, smiling and catching your breath after making love).

Though you do not hail from the White City, you are in no rush to return to your home. The city of Minas Tirith is just as glorious as Boromir had always described it, and you cannot help but want to see how it looks once it is repaired once more. Though, that is not the only reason that you cannot bring yourself to leave.

You are surprised one day when a messenger comes to you with a note from Boromir. His handwriting is neater than you would have expected from a soldier such as himself, but the more important thing about the note is the contents – Boromir wishes to speak with you tomorrow, and he asks if you will take a stroll with him as you talk. It will be nice, you think, to simply spend some time with Boromir without having to look over your shoulder every few moments. You hastily write a note telling Boromir that you will be honoured to see him, and when and where he should meet you. You hand the note to the young messenger, and he scurries off to deliver it to the Steward.

***

You manage to sleep through the night despite your excitement, and eagerly await the time of your meeting with Boromir. You are only waiting a few minutes at the place where you had agreed to meet – just outside the gate of the inn you were staying at – before you see Boromir walking towards you.

“I have missed you,” Boromir tells you, kissing your hand, “I am sorry that I have not been able to see you as often as I would like.”

“Oh, Boromir, do not apologise,” you respond, smiling fondly, “there is much work to be done, and you are an invaluable part of it. I will not fault you for doing your duty.”

He seems grateful that you do not blame him for being busy. “I have something of great importance that I must tell you about,” he says, “but I do not wish to do it here.”

You nod, then take his arm, and the two of you begin to walk together. Boromir seems nervous, you think, and you cannot help but wonder what is on his mind. He does make idle conversation with you as you walk, however, speaking of various goings-on in the city, the most important among them being the engagement of his brother Faramir and Éowyn.

After you have been walking for a while, you see a beautiful garden, filled with colourful flowers that contrast with the stark white walls and roads of Minas Tirith. “Come,” Boromir says, and leads you towards a bench that is nestled in the center of the garden, urging you to sit down. When you do, he takes a seat beside you.

The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, before Boromir whispers your name. He takes your hands in his own larger ones, and then takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know we have not long known each other,” Boromir begins, speaking slowly and carefully, “but I have never met another quite like you. You brought hope and light into my life when I thought that all was lost. Had you not been there by my side, I am sure that I would have never lived to see my home again.”

The hopelessness that Boromir described was not a surprise to you. He had opened up to you a number of times while you were travelling with the Fellowship, but it still makes your heart ache to know how dark his outlook has been.

“I had long believed that I would die in battle, serving my country as I have done since my youth. But meeting you… falling for you… for the first time, I have seen that perhaps my life can be more than that. I still love Gondor, that has not changed, but there is one alone who I hold in higher regard.”

The words almost take your breath away. You are the one thing that this brave warrior holds dear above all else, even the city and country that he has sworn to protect. Your heart pounds at an almost concerning rate within your ribcage. You wish to tell him the depths of your own feelings for him in return, but you cannot find the words.

Boromir brings your hand to his chest, laying it flat above his heart. Even through the fabric of his tunic, you can feel the way that it quickens at your touch.

“My heart is yours,” he says, the pure devotion in his gaze almost enough to reduce you to tears. You actively have to hold the tears back, as not to embarrass yourself, at least for now. That plan is swiftly foiled, however, when Boromir pulls something from his pocket. Once it has been slipped onto your finger, you quickly realise that it is a ring.

You look down at the ring – silver with tiny, intricate carvings of swans on the band, and set with sapphires – then back up at your love’s face. “This ring was my mother’s. Before she passed, she told me that I should give it to the one who holds my heart. I was only a boy then, so I thought the idea foolish, but now… I understand what she meant. She would have wanted me to give it to you.”

Your eyes are wide and tearful as you look up at Boromir. He brings his hand up to rest on your cheek, brushing away your tears with his thumb. You cannot help but lean into his touch, wishing that he wasn’t wearing gloves. Though you had felt the touch of his bare hands on your skin before, you still craved it again. “If you do not feel the same, I will not hold it against you, but if you do… I will spend the rest of my days devoting myself to you.” His voice cracks, and you see his own eyes beginning to well with tears. “I want to be with you. I want you to be my wife.”

Boromir wants you to be his wife. You, a woman with no noble blood to her name, the wife of the Steward of Gondor. A small part of you wonders whether you are worthy of this honour, but you quickly push it away. Boromir loves you, he wants to spend his life with you, and you want that too. You want that more than anything you have ever known. He certainly thinks that you are worthy, and you are not going to ruin your chance of happiness with the man you love with your own insecurities.

Realising after a few moments that you haven’t given him an answer, you cup Boromir’s face in your hands, bringing him towards you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He feels tense at first, but after a few moments he seems to relax, reciprocating the kiss. “Boromir,” you breathe after the kiss ends, your forehead resting against his as tears begin to roll down your cheeks, “yes. I love you, of course I will marry you.”

Boromir stands from the bench, pulling you up to stand as well. He lets out a laugh, wrapping his strong arms about your body and spinning you around for a moment, lifting you off the ground slightly. You laugh too, throwing your arms around his neck, and he gently places you back on the ground. Boromir is gazing at you with such love that you feel yourself falling for him all over again.

[prettyshinnythings]

The Offering. Chapter 3

Story Idea: What if Sauron had been successful? What if he'd taken all of Middle Earth and obtained everything he ever desired? What if he still desired something more?

Warnings: This chapter is 18 plus. Contains smut, language, and an arranged marriage.

Pairings: Sauron x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

My breathing was uneven.

My body tense as I walk through the halls of the castle.

I had awoken this morning in my bed, alone and with no sign of my new husband. It had been a strange feeling waking up all alone but, just as I had felt the morning before, I could feel his gaze upon me without him physically near me. Even still, some of me felt empty when I awoke in our bed alone. A fear that all mornings would be lonely found itself deep within my heart. Last night had been unlike anything I could have dreamed of. When my dark king touched me, my body was on fire and completely at his whim. Consemating our marriage felt like two souls coming together. Not just two bodies bound together out of necessity, but out of want and desire. He had been so gentle and careful with me, so much so that I could convince myself that he must feel something deeper for me than pure obligation.  I attempt to shake the thought from my head as I travel the candle-lit hallways on my own.

I did not know my way around the castle yet, but something inside of me told me that I could not hide away all morning. I knew that I would have to face him eventually. I worried if he would feel differently for me in the cruel light of the morning. That perhaps he would see me and be displeased now that we had been officially wed. This fear struck me deeply whilst I dressed this morning with my two handmaidens. Another new gown for me to wear.

A gown of black velvet, molded to my body like a second skin. With a deep neckline that would expose the valley between my breasts if it were not for the sheer fabric carefully sewn into the velvet gown. Black beading traces up the sheer fabric, a design of vines and flowers emphasizing the black velvet gown. My long (h/c) curls are loose and cascade down my back. I was dressed with him in mind, hoping he would like the way the dress clung to my form. My hands trace the stone walls as I walk the halls, mentally attempting to recall exactly where the throne room was. The rough texture of the stone makes my fingers tingle, but I do not care to notice. My brain wanders with each passing step that I take. Until eventually I hear the sound of voices echoing down the hallway. I pass by a set of grand doors and stop in the doorway. I noticed the long wooden tables that were separated on two sides of the room, with only a single carpeted aisle in the middle of the room. Following the carpet path with my eyes, I spot the table at the head of the room. The table my husband sits at with another man, the two of them speaking to each other in hushed voices.

I breathe a deep sigh and force myself passed the doorway. I try my best to smile at the other people in the room who sit at the other tables. Members of my husband's court who smile at me back out of obligation. I pause at the table before my husband, who stops speaking with the mystery man once I am before him. He leans his head back against the cool wood of his chair, his eyes darkening a few shades as he studies me. The smirk he always seemed to wear plays on his lips as he looks me up and down. He takes in every inch of my body, every curve the dress clings to. His smirk grows when I curtsy before him, my eyes focused on my dark king and no one else. He tilts his head in approval before gesturing for me to stand and join him at his side. I walk around the table and give him a small smile when he stands and his hands reach out to take mine in his. He pulls my body to his, knocking the wind out of me momentarily.

"Good morning little dove..."

He pauses and leans in, his lips descending onto mine, granting me a tender kiss.

"... I am sorry I left you before you awoke this morning. I had things to attend to. I shall try not to make a habit of it."

He explains, pressing his forehead to mine. His thumbs draw circles on my hands whilst he holds them. His touch is gentle and considerate.

"You do not need to explain yourself. You are busy. I understand. I am the last thing you need to worry about."

I whisper the words, my eyes meeting his. He peers down at me in quiet contemplation. Perhaps he worried I would be a wife who relied on her husband too much for companionship. Or he feared that I would not understand that his duties far exceeded the new wife he had married out of obligation.

"Do you doubt your importance to me little dove? Have I not made my desire for you clear?"

His voice is lower when he speaks, his lips moving to my ear so he can whisper;

"Shall I prove my unwavering desire for you here? In the great hall amongst the members of my court? Hmm? Shall I fuck you in front of them all to prove that there is no one else I covet more than you?"

My breathing hitches at his words, our gazes locking together when he pulls back to look at me. The look he gives me is a mixture of delightful mischief as he knows exactly what his words have done to me. My cheeks are flushed, my heart is pounding, and I can feel the dampness of my arousal pooling between my legs. His smirk grows as he reaches out to place the back of his hand along my forehead and cheeks.

"Are you not feeling well my lady? You look feverish."

I give him a playful pout at his jape at my expense. My hands reach to pull his away from my forehead. I pull myself in against him, hands on his chest before responding quietly.

"Very funny. How else am I to react when you say such devilish things to me?"                                                               

I look up at him wide-eyed. The room around us is suddenly quiet and a small part of me fears that everyone somehow heard him and I speaking. Amused by this fear he smiles down at me and I cannot help but find myself ensnared by the beauty of his face. The contrast to what I had known he had done to become king to begin with. I would never have believed that 'Sauron the Terrible' could be so beautiful. But I also knew that he could change forms when he wanted. I wondered what those other forms looked like. I had only ever heard of his fair form. The long blonde hair and the elven ears, an appearance he wore to mock the elves he had enslaved upon his rise to power. This mockery was evident in the clothing he wore, shoes, and other jewelry pieces he would wear from time to time. The only two things he wore that we purely a reflection of who he was, his ring of power and the crown of Morgoth that adorned his head when he was in front of his court.

Without thinking I find myself reaching out to touch the base of his crown. Not because I wish to hold it, but because I wish to feel its dark power. His smile falters at the movement, his eyes watching me closely. I must look ridicilous as I stand on my tip toes to reach for his crown, but he humors me by tilting his head down slightly so I can reach it better. Once the palm of my hand reaches the blackened metal I feel somehing strange shoot through me. An odd feeling that I could not place. He can sense this odd feeling too, because his brow furrows the second I feel it. My eyes flutter closed and I breathe in deeply, the metal calling to me like a song I had never heard before. In my head, I see images and memories attached to the crown. I see the bloodlust, anger, and hatred that any barrer of the crown had felt. But I also feel the pain, torment, and trauma of the barrer as well. I see Sauron himself, in different forms, but undeniably him. I see all he had gone through and feel it in my very being until I can no longer stand another second of it. Forcing my eyes open, a tear escapes me, my lips quivering at the cold pulsating within me from his memories. Slowly I pull my hand away from the crown, my eyes locking with his once more.

"Do not pity me little dove. All I have done has brought me here. To where I belong."

He misunderstood my tears. For I do not pity him, I understand him in a way I never dreamed possible. How had one been seen and felt so much without imploding? How had he made it this far along?

"I would never pity you, my king. I am in awe of you. Of your very journey that brought you here. It is truly inspiring."

Doubt flashes over his eyes but I mean every word and he knows it. His hands find either side of my face and I realize that I am still standing on my tip toes. Without a warning, his lips find mine. He kisses me as though we are alone, and in this moment it does feel that way. His courtier's eyes fade into obscurity as long as I am in his arms, nothing else matters. I deepen the kiss without a care, his hands falling to my waist before pulling me in against him. I want more of him and he wants more of me, but when the faint clearing of a throat sounds from behind us, his lips leave mine. My chest is heaving from the lack of air, but I do not care about the witnesses.

"My lord-"

The man's voice stills in his throat as he looks at the man who has interrupted us. I can see the discomfort on the man's face as he attempts to speak once more but remains silent still.

"Do you not see I am busy with my wife? Whatever it is you have to say can wait. In fact, all of you need to leave. NOW."

My dark king's voice is full of authority, his voice rising. The others in the room stand up without question and I hear the sound of their chairs scraping against the stone of the great hall. The quick steps of the courtiers sound throughout the room while I peer up at my husband, my body at his whim and completely enthralled by him. Once we are alone he flicks his hand and the doors of the great hall slam shut and give us privacy. As his lips find mine once more. I do not miss a beat, I cling to him as his mouth explores my own. The caution of the night before seems to have ceased to exist as he lifts my body up onto the table he had been sitting at. He pushes the food and drinks out of the way and lays me against the firm wood of the table. He remains standing, leaning over the table, using his height to his advantage.

"I have thought of you all night. Whilst you slept beside me, all I could think about was taking you again."

I moan when he rasps the words against my throat. My hands are on his chest while he stands between my legs. He has me spread before him. Somewhere in the mess of our kiss, he managed to lift my dress up, exposing me to the cold. His smirk grows when he realizes I am not wearing undergarments.

"Why did you not take me again? I would give you anything you wanted as many times as you wanted my king. You need not ask. I am yours to use for your pleasure."

The words fall from my lips in a breathless whimper, his lips gently sucking on my neck. Marking me as his own.

"It is not only my pleasure I am thinking of. Besides it was your first time. You needed to rest and I quite enjoyed how sweet you looked curled up next to me. Like I was not the man that I am as if you were not bound to someone who has done the evil I have done."

I knew the evil he had done. The histories of what was once the way of life in Middle Earth and what is now have been taught to me since I came to be. Since I was an elven child. I had never mourned the life that Middle Earth once had for I had never known a time without Sauron's rule. And while I did not share his bloodlust or his desire for power and order, I could not bring myself to see him in a negative light. I had seen how soft he was with me, how much care he showed me in our time together, and surely that meant something.

"I cannot judge your past, my king. I can only live in the here and now. And what I feel for you is an unrelenting desire. A need to please you in whatever way you seek."

An undetectable look flickers over his face as he studies me below him. A look similar to the one he gave me last night. He draws circles along the inside of my thighs and breathes in a deep sigh. Slowly, his fingers trail up my thighs, pushing more of the fabric of my gown up, bunching it up around my waist. He does not speak, only keeps his eyes on me before getting onto his knees. His head disappears between my thighs and his lips find my sensitive bud. I breathe a sharp sigh when he gives my bud a kiss. My entire body felt as if it was extremely sensitive from the night before.

The sensitivity sends another sharp sigh up my spine, my breathing hitching when I feel his tongue dip between my folds. I gasp at the sensation, the night before he had only used his fingers to pleasure me before fucking me with his cock. I had no idea that his tongue could make me feel just as good.

"My word."

I whimper as his hands move to hold my thighs apart, his tongue delving ever deeper. I hear him chuckle at my words, but I cannot bring myself to be ashamed. My head is spinning and I feel so good that I could not care less if I said something embarrassing. I am so wet that I fear I could drown him in my arousal. But he tastes me as if I am the purest honey he has ever had. My hands grasp for something to hang onto as the familiar tightening in my stomach begins to build. I was going to cum at any moment and he could sense it. The way that my walls began to tighten around his tongue.

"I do not know if I can last another moment my king."

When he hears me speak, his tongue dives deeper inside of me, almost as if he likes the challenge of making me come undone around him. His pace quickens, his grip on my thighs tight. I lay there with my head continuing to spin, my body completely caught up in him. My back arches off of the table, my moans falling from my lips. I am loud but I do not care. If anyone hears us, that is on them. Let them hear how my king makes me feel so complete. Seeming to read my thoughts, his tongue gives another sharp flick of my sensitive bud and it is what sends me completely over the edge. I feel my legs tremble as I cum on his tongue. He laps up every drop, drinking from me like my body is the nectar of the gods. I lay there breathless, my body slowly coming down from its high. He remains safely tucked between my thighs until he has tasted every last drop of me. It is only then that he re-emerges, his satisfied smirk causing my cheeks to redden.

"You taste divine, little dove."

He rasps, his hands reaching for me. He pulls me up so I am no longer lying on the table, our bodies now face to face. It takes me a moment to collect myself, my head is still spinning from what he had done to me. I find myself resting my hands on his chest, my breathing uneven. He holds onto me when he realizes that I am dizzy. His gaze is soft. Slowly his lips find mine and it is the most gentle kiss I have ever felt. Almost as if he is trying to ground me as if he is trying to grant my brain much-needed clarity. I taste myself on his lips, the sweetness of my arousal sending a chill up my spine. It is only when he senses that my dizziness has subsided that he breaks the kiss. His eyes lock with mine.

"Tonight, there will be a ball to celebrate our marriage. All shall look upon you and kneel before their dark queen. That is why I left you this morning, to finalize the details."

I look back at him in wonder. He wanted to celebrate our marriage. It was a kind thing to be sure and completely unexpected.

"Sauron, you do not have to do all of this for me."

He nods, but his furrowed brows protest.

"I want to. But there is one thing I wish to ask you for in return."

I study him closely and mentally ponder what he could want from me. Instead, I lean into him and place my lips to his for a single kiss to his lips before peering up at him with a look of understanding.

"Whatever it is you want, I shall give it to you."

I mean the words and he knows I do. I have no clue what it was about him that made me fall so deeply so quickly. I should be wary of the man who had always been referred to as the great deceiver, but I could not bring myself to care if he was deceiving me. I only cared for his happiness. He knows this and I can sense it in the way that he looks down at me, recognition of what I had been thinking reflected in his eyes.

"Please do not call me Sauron. When I first came to be I was known by another name; Marion. I wish for you to call me this, only you. With you, I am the most myself I have been in over an age. Sauron is who I shall be with the world, but Marion is who I shall be for you and only you."

Tears find my eyes without warning. His request, so sweet that I almost wondered if I misheard him for a moment.

"Marion..."

I whisper in awe, his name falling from my lips so naturally it is as if I had never known him by another name. The smile that finds his lips is unlike any other that he has displayed in front of me thus far. It is a smile so genuine that I feel as if my heart will melt.

"... Marion, my king, and my husband, it is so nice to know your true name. For I shall serve you and no one else for all of my days. Until the end of time."

--

Day fell into night. Faster than my nerves were willing to accept. I had already survived a wedding before a court of strangers, but now I would have to face them all again. My nerves were on edge, worse now that I knew I would have to ready myself. My breathing is uneven as I stand in the center of the room, looking at my bed. My eyes glance over the three dresses that had been laid out before me with the help of my silent handmaidens. One emerald green, one red, and one pale blue. All of them are beautiful and beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of wearing.

"Which would you pick?"

I ask the blonde one, and hopefully, she will speak to me if I initiate it. But the maiden looks at me with wide eyes, glancing between me and the brunette she was always accompanied by. My heart hurts to look at my fellow elvish sisters, the silence that they seemed forced into.

"Please talk to me. I promise anything you say will stay between us. I cannot bear your forced silence."

I sound desperate when I speak with them, my hands on my heart as I plead with them. They do not speak though, instead, they look at each other with sympathetic expression. They want to speak to me, but for whatever reason they cannot.

"They will not speak to you little dove. Unless I allow them to."

My husband's voice sounds from the doorway. He had come in so quietly that I had not heard him prior to this moment. My eyes dart to him, noting how his tall form fills the doorway, his hands on either side of the wooden panel. My two maidens freeze in place, bodies standing straighter once they realize their king is here. I look at him in honest confusion whilst he takes a step inside of the room. The servants take a few steps back, curtsying before him. He waves them off carelessly with his eyes on me. Every step he takes towards me is countered by the elf maidens, like a dance of avoidance. As if space could spare them if he wanted to harm them.

"Why do they need to be silenced?"

I ask cautiously, unsure of what his response will be. Amusement finds his face, his eyes darkening a few shades when he glances over at the elves.

"The elves have always found themselves to be better than everyone else. They judge and condemn anything they believe to be beneath them. So, when I rose to power I thought it only fair that I put them in their place. Silencing their judgment and enslaving them amongst creatures they deemed so unworthy."

The elven maidens finally sidestep close enough to the door that they can leave. Curtsying one final time before closing our bedroom door behind them.

"Is it necessary? Could you make an exception for my maidens? It is awkward to communicate with them when they are silent all of the time."

My request amuses him thoroughly and causes him to chuckle. At first, he does not answer me, only turns his attention to the dresses that had been laid out on our bed. Quietly he observes the three options that had been provided. With one hand out, he traces over the fabric of each gown.

"What would you have me do little dove? Surely you know that if I allow them to speak it will only be a matter of time before others appeal to that kind heart of yours. Then you will want me to grant others the same permission. I cannot have others finding me weak because I care for you. They will use that care and exploit it for their own gain."

His logic is sound, but I do not agree and he knows it. He glances over at me when I move to stand at his side. The look he gives me is teasing almost as if he is testing me to try and push my luck on the topic.

"Marion."

I plead, my eyes wide. His amusement grows when I use his name.

"(y/n)."

He replies, eyes back to the gowns laid out on the bed. He picks the red gown up off of the dress and hands it to me.

"Wear this one."

The satin fabric is so soft and luxurious in my hands. Almost too precious to be touched by the likes of me. I nod quietly before laying it on top of the dresser beside the bed, where my undergarments are kept.

"I am an elf. Do you wish to silence me?"

I ask him, watching him closely as he collects the other two gowns and drapes them over the footer of our bed. He sighs and shoots me a look that tells me his amusement of the topic is starting to wear thin. So I decide to play dirty. I put my hands up in defense and give him an innocent doe-eyed expression before turning my back to him to expose the intricately tied corset of my black gown.

"Would you help me out of this? Since you scared off my handmaidens."

I keep my wide eyes on him as I glance over my shoulder, quietly beckoning for him to rid me of my dress. With raised eyebrows and a huff, his hands find the laces of my corset. His hands are rough with the strings as he begins undoing them one by one.

"I know what you are doing little dove and it is not going to work."

He rasps the words in my ear, breathing along my neck while he speaks. He may be saying that it is not going to work, but I feel the energy in the room changing around us. Like an invisible fog slowly descending on us.

"Humor me. Let's say I was able to tempt you into allowing me to get my way, how would that look? What would I need to do to tempt you into considering it?"

He finishes unlacing my corset while I speak, his hands finding my skin as he slowly pulls the fabric of my gown open. He traces my bare back before guiding his fingers up to either side of my shoulders. He pulls the long sleeves of my dress down and off of my arms and when he does the dress falls around me on the floor. Reminiscent of the way my wedding dress fell to the ground the night before. Stepping out of the dress I turn to face him completely naked. His eyes are darker, almost black while he studies me as if he is seeing me for the first time all over again.

"Perhaps you and I are even better matched for one another than I could have ever imagined."

He whispers, hands tracing my body and staring at my collarbone before slowly descending down to my bare breasts. My nipples harden under his touch and our gazes remain locked together as a battle of wills seems to ignite.

"I would never wish to silence you little dove. Even if you are an elf..."

He pauses, replying to my previous question.

"...No, I intend to make you scream for me. For all to hear. So no one ever doubts who it is you belong to."

I swallow hard at the words, a dampness forming between my thighs. A dampness he notices instantly. The smirk finds his lips as it always seems to in moments like this, but he does not act. Instead, he pulls away from me.

"Close your eyes and do not open them until I tell you to."

His tone is commanding and I know better than to defy him. I force my eyes closed and stand there, my other senses seeming to heighten as a result of my closed eyes. From behind my eyelids, I hear the sound of clothing being discarded onto the cool stone of our bedroom floor. My breathing hitches in anticipation, goosebumps erupting all over my skin as the room seems to grow cooler. I hear the bed dip down as if someone has laid down in it. After a moment I hear him speak once more.

"Open your eyes, sweetling."

I do not waste a second before doing as instructed and when I do I feel my heart skip a beat. He lays in our bed, directly in the middle with his head propped up on a pillow, hand pumping his cock as he watches me. He does not need to tell me to walk forward before I find myself doing it already. I walk from the foot of our bed, meeting him at the edge of our bed. I do not speak as I watch him slowly pump his cock, precum leaking from the tip. His beautiful length is thick and veiny, ready to tear me apart. I find myself frozen in place at the sight of him, completely naked, the muscles in his lower stomach tight as his cock begins to grow needy for friction. Slowly, unfreezing I crawl onto the bed, but stop when I have reached his side

"Swing one leg over me, darling... Do not be afraid, I shall be gentle. Just like I was last night."

I tremble, suddenly finding myself nervous. But I do as my king instructs and swing my leg over his torso, my aching cunt mere inches from his throbbing cock. I glance down at him and feel the nerves bubbling up to a new level of nervousness and he sees it. He places a hand on my hip before leaning up to kiss me. While our lips move together in perfect sync with one another, he uses his other hand to guide his cock between my soaked folds. He does not put himself inside of me at first. Instead, he gathers up some of my arousal to coat his cock before he dares to slowly insert himself inside of me. When he does this, my lips fall from his, my forehead against his. A moan falls from my lips as I feel him fill me, my ass flush against him once his cock is fully inside of me. This sensation is different from the one I had experienced the night before. He was filling me in a new way and I loved it.

"Marion."

I gasp, my lips moaning against his. At the mention of his name, he rolls his hips, his cock deeper inside of me. Slowly he begins to thrust up into me, my body unsure of what to do for a moment before naturally meeting his thrusts. Our kisses are sloppy and our bodies move together in unison while he fucks me. So deeply and so thoroughly that it almost feels like a dream that existed in only my mind. But it was reality and it felt so good. His hands grasp my breasts firmly but, unlike earlier, I feel the cold metal of his ring. His one ring. I break the kiss and find myself peering down at the golden band.

"Is it heavy? That ring that you wear? The one that rules them all?"

My question sounds silly, but I could never imagine holding so much power upon my finger. Up close it did not appear any different from a common golden band, but I knew that it was more special than I could ever comprehend. Sauron's gaze, still hungry, softens as he looks over every inch of my body in quiet appreciation as if I am a treasure. Without speaking a word he grinds himself against me once more, his cock moving deeper within me, hitting a new bundle of nerves that sends a chill up my spine.

"Would my wife like to try it on? Test its craftmanship for herself?"

I gasp at another roll of his hips. My lips part, a faint mewl falling from me. I would never question the craft of Sauron, Marion, for I knew he was one of the most skilled smiths in all of Middle Earth. I can feel the need to apologize on my lips but he stills that need with the pressing of his lips to mine. A kiss that grounds me and makes me want to soar at the same time. I feel my lips move against his like they were made for me, all-consuming. So much so that I do not feel his hand move his ring of power from his finger to my thumb. When he does this I feel a shift within me. Darkness, unlike anything I have ever known. Around me is a world like our own, but contorted into something else. I should be afraid of it, but I cannot bring myself to feel fear. Instead, I peer around in wonder. Was this a world he had created? Was this what he saw when he wore the ring himself?

"Well, little dove, what do you think? Does it feel heavy to you? Does it terrify you to see the unseen world?"

He rasps the words against my neck as his lips leave mine and descend lower. With one hand on his chest and the ring-clad hand drawing closer to my face as I bring it closer to inspect it I still do not fear the ring.

"It is not heavy and it does not scare me, my dark king. It is beautiful even with its darkness. It is perfect, but how could it be any less when it was you who created it?"

My compliment causes him to still his actions, his lips on my collarbone. Whatever he expected me to say, it was not this. I pull the ring off of me and find our gazes meeting in the light of our world. Gone were the dark shadows of the unseen world. He studies me closely as I lift his hand and slip his ring back onto his finger. My king's silence makes me worry that I have done something wrong. But the moment the thought flickers into my mind he shakes his head in protest. He uses my confusion as to what has made him quiet as an opportunity to flip our position, his cock pulling out of me long enough to pin me beneath him in our bed before pushing back inside of me. I moan at the loss and regaining of him inside of me. His lips push back down onto mine as he thrusts into me with a primal and dominating force that takes my breath away.

"Mine."

He growls in a tone that verges on animalistic. I find myself nodding as I maneuver my hips to meet his thrusts once more. He had said he would take it slow with me, but I liked the fact that he was not treating me as though I was made of glass. I found this part of him undeniable and so unbelievably tantalizing.

"Yours. Only yours my king."

I find myself replying as he stares down at me lost in lust. His eyes were darker and his jaw clenched tightly while thrusting his cock inside of my soaked sex. Every inch of his cock felt as if it was made to be inside of me. And I quietly contemplated how I could have ever known a time without him being so intimately mine. Though he had not said he was mine, I could feel it in the way that he looked at me. As if my wearing of his ring had changed something between the two of us. As if me seeing inside of his world without fear had made his desire for me more raw than it had been before.

"Do not doubt yourself little one, I am yours. Only yours."

I find myself smiling at his words, the response to the worry in my head. I wondered if there would ever be a time when I would tire of him peeking inside of my head, but right now it was nice. It was nice to communicate so closely.

The tip of his cock teases a deeper part of my sex, and it causes a white-hot feeling inside of me. A feeling that causes my bundle of nerves to buckle. I can feel my body nearing the same climax he had elicited from me earlier. At the thought, I can feel his cock straining within me, eager for his own release.

"I am going to cum inside of you. And I want to do it at the same time you come undone."

He makes sure that our gazes are locked together when he says this, leaving no question of whether I heard him or not. I nod, my hands reaching up to take his face in my grasp, my lips meeting his once again. The second our lips touch he thrusts one final time and we both come undone together. He keeps his lips connected with mine as our bodies get lost in their own coming down from the high we had been on. I feel him twitch inside of me one final time before he pulls out and gazes down at me.

"It is not very common for someone to see the unseen world and be unafraid. Much less such a sweet and virtuous little elf."

My cheeks redden at his words, but I cannot explain to him that I was not frightened. Even I could not explain it to myself. By all rights, I should have been terrified. I should have felt the corruption of the one ring other ring bearers had been, but I was unaffected.

Fascinated but unaffected all the same.

"Would you like me to be afraid my king? Is that truly what you want?"

A smirk befalls his lips as he shakes his head in protest for the second time this evening. No, instead lays in our bed beside me staring up at the canopy above us. He is quiet for only a moment before he guides my body to his. My head finds his shoulder and my hand rests on his chest.

"No, what I want is for you to understand that I have a specific way that I am ruling. I cannot have you questioning me in front of my servants again. However, I will grant you the chance to speak with your elven maidens. They shall be permitted to speak in our chamber, your dressing room, and the library. They cannot speak anywhere else."

I peer up at him, my heart skipping a beat as he allows himself to grant me this one wish. A small victory that I would take without question.

"Thank you."

I murmur before lifting my head off of his shoulder to give him a small kiss on the side of his cheek. He rolls his eyes at the action, almost as if he is ashamed that he gave me what I wanted.

"Yes, you are welcome little dove. Now, let us get ready. We have a party to attend after all."

[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

[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.