#sauron imagine

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Sauron (Annatar) being unable to resist your allure as you work on the rings…

Distance. He repeated to himself. Although he did not understand why it was necessary when he chose to ignore the warning and step closer to you.

He had donned a new face with a new name - Annatar - but it did little to fade the pull he felt to you as ‘Halbrand’. As fate would have it, your journey drew you to Eregion to aid Celebrimbor with his crafts.

Or perhaps you were simply drawn to where Sauron would be?

A part of him longed to tell you the truth but he had a larger plan that relied on secrecy. He could not risk you speaking with Galadriel nor did he wish to cause you harm. And so, he chose to keep the knowledge to himself.

He watched as you picked up a glittering gold band forged for one of the dwarf lords. One of seven. Crafted by Celebrimbor, they were perfect. Touched by his hands, there would be malice and a darkness so deep-rooted.

But jewelled by your fingers? They would have enough light to remind him that not all he touches is true evil.

“Have you chosen a stone for this one?” He asked.

You inspected the fine craftsmanship. “Perhaps a sapphire.” You said rather distracted. He gave you a small musing hum and you turned to meet his eyes. “You disagree?”

“I merely think a ruby would complement this particular piece.”

“Do enlightenment me, Lord of Gifts.” You challenged.

He almost laughed at the offence you took. But he merely stepped behind and touched an elbow with one hand, raising it a little higher. His free hand caught your chin, fingers gently lifting your head to tilt upwards to see the gold band twinkle under a ray of sun.

It was intimate and he wrestled with his impulsive urges. To kiss you in this moment would be too easy. But again, he could not. All he could do was savour this moment with you.

“The sunlight catches the band casting it in a glow of power. A ruby would emphasize such a notion beneath the mountain.” He said, lips drawing impossibly close to your ear. He noticed the prickling of your skin and the way your breath hitched.

“Power kissed by sunlight.” You whispered, realising his vision. Head turning to his once more, he saw the way your eyes flickered to his lips for a fleeting second.

It appeared that the pull he felt was mutual, drawing you to him in equal strength. You were drifting closer and closer and-

“Wonderful news! We have just received word from the realm of Men.” Celebrimbor announced as he walked into the forge.

With a sharp breath, Sauron pulled away just as you had done the same. He took note of how you quickly busied yourself in the work once more.

Composing himself, he stood up and smiled at the ring maker who had not noticed the spark rushing for cover.

He should have been more careful.

“This is truly good to hear.” He told Celebrimbor and led the elf away from your workspace. “How soon can we extend an invitation for their visit?”

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Written at 12am because I have no regard for waking early tomorrow for work. When the writing bug bites, you write.

[dracowars]

of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

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

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

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

universe: the rings of power

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

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

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

"Sister-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scares you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't allow that."

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

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

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

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

"Lord Halb-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[little-diable]

The Lord of Gifts (smut)

@theanythingbuthuman has to endure my rambling about Annatar 24/7, so I needed to write something with him and I couldn’t wait for Kinktober to pass. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader seeks out Annatar’s company late at night as she fears that Sauron is close, robbing her of her sleep. Perhaps the lord of gifts can distract her for some moments.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, semi public, lies because duh

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!reader (1.8k words)

“Please, (y/n), you don’t need to keep away.” His soft voice cozied her along, words dripping from his lips like the finest honey harvested in Eregion. Carefully, she stepped closer, eyes set on his handsome features, fully exposed due to the way he had made a bow out of his bright hair strands.

“Forgive me for disturbing you so late at night.” (Y/n) had to avert her gaze, fumbling with her fingers as she came to a halt close to Lord Annatar. She felt him shift closer, cold hand finding her warm chin to tilt her head up towards him. Heat buzzed through her at the touch, making the spot he touched tingle with excitement.

For the past days, she had found herself longing for some alone time with the being, the lord of gifts as he had been introduced by Master Celebrimbor. Something about him seemed to pull (y/n) in, something having a dark touch to it she couldn’t understand but feel fascinated about nevertheless.

“This is nothing to apologise for, I am always looking forward to your presence, (y/n).” The smile tugging on his lips had an addicting effect on her, unable to stop her grin from widening as he slowly let go of her - reluctantly almost. She had to stop herself from chasing the touch, forcing her feet to stay rooted to the ground while her eyes followed his frame.

Annatar sank down in one of the chairs, body hugged by his dark clothes, perfectly matching the fair contrast of his features and hair. He was truly beautiful, a distracting appearance hiding whatever he wanted to keep from curious eyes.

“What is it that keeps you up so late at night, (y/n)?” She watched him pour some wine before pointing towards the chair next to his, waiting for her to come sit. (Y/n)’s legs trembled as she walked closer, fingers interlocked in front of her before she sank down on the comfortable wooden chair.

“There is something lingering in the air, my lord. Something dark, something,” her breath hitched in her chest, wide eyes focusing on the dancing flames warming the workshop. Annatar had his eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he waited for her to keep on speaking. “Something dangerous, it is as if He has found me, speaking to me late at night to drive me towards my end. I feel as if I’m going insane.”

“Trust me, love, there is nothing you need to fear, not as long as I am with you. He can’t reach you within my grasp, that much I can promise.” She dared to look at him again, trying to decipher the emotions tugging on his features. His slender fingers found her trembling knee, placed on top of the fine fabric of her dress to keep close. Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected touch, a touch calling for her to hold onto him, allowing her fingers to slowly find his.

“Have you ever met him?” The question rolled off her tongue without (y/n) being able to stop the words from hallowing through the empty workshop. His expression turned into something rather grim, as if he was plagued by thoughts and memories he had buried a long time ago. (Y/n) could see his jaw muscles clench and for a moment it seemed as if he was a completely different being, shape shifting into somebody else for just a fraction of a second.

“Let us not dim this night with memories dark and gruesome, (y/n). Let us cherish the quietness we have both been aching for.” The soft smile he shot her made (y/n) slightly relax in the chair. She could only nod her head, taking another sip of the wine as Annatar mimicked her movements.

“How do you pass your time when you’re not spending your time with Master Celebrimbor? Is your husband keeping you company?” A soft chuckle clawed through (y/n) at his question, followed by the shake of her head.

“If I were married I would not seek out your company this late at night, my lord.” Heat crawled up her spine, fuelled by the anticipation the smirk now widening on his lips made simmer deep inside of her. (Y/n) had to avert her gaze once again, wondering where she had found the confidence to speak words so teasing to a being this powerful.

Annatar rose to his feet, hand stretched out for (y/n) to take. A soft gasp left her as he pulled her against his chest, hand finding its way back to her chin, “Forgive my foolishness, but I couldn’t dare risk pushing you into a tangled web of misfortunes, (y/n).”

She got no time to overthink his words, pulled closer to let his lips ghost over hers. Her fingers found the fabrics covering his chest, fisting them in her trembling hands as he kissed her properly. Everything had stopped moving, time had lost its meaning, even the clouds no longer moved across the sky as Annatar kissed her breathless - at least that’s what it felt like to (y/n) and her racing mind.

Without breaking the kiss, (y/n) felt herself being pushed backwards, letting her smaller back press against the edge of a table. She was pushed onto the table, legs patted for the lord of gifts to rest between her thighs as he hungrily kissed her. Deep down, (y/n) found herself convinced that this was nothing but a dream, a play of her tired mind to pass its time, but the way his hands roughly grabbed her waist felt too real to be a mere dream, pulling her closer against him.

“I fear I don’t have the strength to hold back any longer, (y/n). The days in your closeness have been torturous as I was unable to touch you. Tell me, do you feel the same bond slumbering inside your chest?” The words were sweeter than any fruits she had ever eaten, any wine only the High King was fortunate enough to drink. Heat clung to every part of her body, forcing words to roll off her tongue while Annatar kissed his way down her throat.

“I do, my lord. I’m yours, I have been since the moment our paths were destined to cross.” It was all he needed to hear before he pushed her back down on the table. (Y/n) watched him push the fabric of her dress up to her waist, dipping his head down to kiss the insides of her thighs before his warm breath fanned over her heat.

“The night is short, our solitude will be disturbed, but soon we will find enough time to get lost in our longings, that much I can promise, love.” Her words got stuck in her throat the second his skilled tongue brushed over her folds, moaning at her taste. Gasps rolled off her tongue at the feeling of his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, touching her just like she had touched herself to the thought of him hours ago. He was eager, eating her out with an unfamiliar kind of urgency to push her towards the edge within a handful of seconds.

“Stars, this feels so good.” It wasn’t much she managed to speak, not many words that made it past her teeth, and yet they seemed to be enough to draw a chuckle out of the lord. His piercing eyes flickered up to meet hers, intently staring at (y/n) while he kept lapping at her folds, high on her taste.

Her hands found his bright hair, tugging on the roots to keep herself somewhat grounded. It felt as if she had lost all strength to guide her body, letting her back arch off the table the moment her thighs began to tremble, feeling her orgasm climb up her body. But seconds before she could fall off the edge with a call of his name, he parted from her.

“Let us become one. Will you allow us to find comfort with our bodies united, (y/n)?” His voice dripped with something raspy, something dark that made goosebumps appear on her limbs. The conscious part of her brain could tell that there was more to his words than she managed to pick up on, something the needy part of her couldn’t care about at that very moment.

“Take me, I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” Annatar dipped his head down to kiss her, letting their tongues fight for victory while he freed his cock. He aligned himself with her heat, and with their eyes holding contact again, he pushed into her. Another gasp rumbled through (y/n), robbing her of the last air lingering in her lungs as she desperately tried to adjust to his size.

“Breathe, love. Let yourself fall.” He began to move, slow at first, building a steady rhythm. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to feel as much of him as possible. Their lips found one another every few seconds, sharing kisses that matched the strength of his faster growing thrusts.

Moans clawed through the both of them, sounds that would forever ring in their minds as they thought back to this very moment. Annatar held onto her with a strong grip, spurred on by the feeling of her walls fluttering around him with every perfectly calculated thrust, pushing her further and further towards the edge once again.

She was sure that he was leaving bruises on her body, marking her for days to come - and yet (y/n) could only feel excitement at the thought of being marked by the lord of gifts. Her fingernails clawed at his skin, holding onto Annatar as her eyes fluttered close, tasting her close release on the tip of her tongue.

“Let go, let me hear the way you call out my name as lust drives you on.” Her mouth instantly followed his command, choking on Annatar’s name. (Y/n)’s orgasm clashed through her, buzzing through her veins while he kept snapping his hips against hers, following her down the edge seconds later. Another raspy moan left the lord, making a smile tug on her slightly swollen lips as she watched him come undone.

“I will have you until darkness rises again, until time loses all its meaning. Eternity will feel short in comparison to what our path ahead will look like, (y/n).”

[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.

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine accepting Annatar's proposal...

Imagine accepting Annatar's proposal after centuries of him trying to court you...

He knew you had doubts despite your feelings for him being so clear from the beginning, and he understood your reasoning, to be hesitant to bind yourself to someone for eternity was normal. After all, it can't be undone. He understood, even if you did not share all your thoughts on the matter. Or at least he thought he did.

For your mind changed suddenly and without explanation but after so many years you claimed to be ready to bind yourself to him. He made you a ring on the same day, not silver for engagement but gold to call you his as soon as he could.

Neither of you wanted a big celebration so you didn't share the news with anyone yet. You wanted this moment to be yours only.

He said the sacred vows first, declaring his intent, calling upon the One to make the union unbreakable, he named you as his chosen, then he waited for you to do the same before you could consummate your marriage.

He was holding you close, caressing your cheeks as he smiled at you lovingly, eyes glistening with untold emotions while you started your vow. His expression changed into mild terror when, instead of the name he went by in Eregion these days, you used the name he was first given, the one you shouldn't know to associate with him, the one no one called him in literal ages because people didn't think him worthy of it anymore.

Yet here you were, saying it with so many different meanings. A sign of acceptance, a challenge, a chance, an offer, a surrounder of more than your knowledge of his true identity but your very soul that could now belong to him if he chose to take that last step...

[sun-snatcher]

( credits to @winterswake for this phenomenal gifset ! )

3/? | SEAWARDS, TO YOU. ; REPENTANT!AU

summ.  A continuation. Sauron learns what it means to be human— and what it takes to be one. or: Sauron experiences the best & worst of mortality. pairing.  (Repentant!Mairon/Sauron) Halbrand / f!reader , ( established in #SEAWARDSTOYOU ) w.count.  4k a/n.  Important tags in first chapter ! Warnings for implications to PTSD & slight horror , including Non-graphically implied Animal Death.

THE BARNACLES STARE.

They’re overgrown; marrow-white and clinging onto the cracks of the salt-licked rockface, breathing and blinking at him like the thousand, ever-watchful eyes of the Ainur. 

In his dreams, every single one turns to blazing stars that wink out in an instant as he passes them. The shadow of Morgoth is a powerful darkness: it can dim them into lightlessness and nothingness. He tells them he is neither Morgoth nor Melkor nor Sauron nor Mairon, that he is something new; something different— but they can’t hear him under the sheet of waves crashing like a tempest on the shores, pulling him down, down, down, and under.

(He drowns. Rarely does he choose to fight the currents.)

In other vivid dreams, the barnacles don’t listen. They don’t because they can’t listen; because they’re dead and lifeless and the colour of their shells look eerily vertebral and bone-faced. They’re skulls, he later realises. A thousand of them. Endless. Both young and old. Their missing teeth and gaping maws, frozen in terror, roll in masses that wash in from the bloody tides and take up the shore beneath his feet. They fracture and splinter and cry out in pain when he walks on where soft sands ought to be, begging for mercy with every black step he takes.

He wakes up restless. He wakes up mortified. 

A forest fire rips through Eldalondë.

It dies out as quick as it had come, however; by the grace of the Valar and their blessed storms! The Faithful cry.

“Blessed,” Galadriel hears Halbrand scoff underneath his breath. They’d both sailed down the river Nunduinë with the other locals to help with clearing out whatever the blaze had left in its wake, and the very air now is clogged with residual smoke and the stench of death. She doesn’t comment on his muttering. (He had yet to heal completely from the rope burns in his palms from when they’d been stranded at sea, after all.) 

“You think it’s a sign?” asks one of the arborists. 

A grave weight seemed to have sunken into Galadriel when the scent of the Mellyrn had greeted her, and she’d been brought to the heart of the massive grove, where she lay a hand on the now-sundered tree.

“These very trees were brought as seeds from Aman by the Eldar of Tol Erresëa. Elros Tar-Minyatur himself had hand in planting these.” She remembers Elrond, too, had come to sail and plant a tree of his own here. The forest had been so young then, in the early years of the Second Age. Now the woods seem unsettled— even the very winds that blow between its spaces.

“Not idly do the trees of Valinor burn,” she finally warns. “Even when ensnared by lightning.”

Halbrand had seen it from afar, coming downwind from the riverbank: the tree’s colossal trunk— thick as a Dwarven-hewn mountain pillar— torn in its center from the high canopies of branches, snaking all the way down to the spindly stretch of roots. The bolt of light had rent an ugly, gaping wound into its silver bole, hollowing out the wood and carving it out to look like a glaring crack into the Unseen World.

He can still see the gleam of red embers between the bark of the tunnelled tree.

He can still hear it crackling in its seams, even.

Or… no. That isn’t the fire— 

“Galadriel!”

Mallorn branches grow great and wide, so it takes out an entire stable when it crashes down. 

One of the horses get caught underneath. 

They cannot move the branch. (It wouldn’t do any good, even if they did.)

Abârzî, the sea-cadet weeps, stroking the mare before he went to braid the hairs of her tail and cut it off. He chants it like a prayer.

Abârzî. Abârzî. Abârzî.

(No one has the heart to finish the job.

Halbrand does not exactly offer— but they don’t stop him either when he begrudgingly enters the stables for them.)

“What was he saying?” Sauron asks, after, in some poorly attempt to clear his mind.

“Her name,” Galadriel translates, solemn. “Abâr holds several meanings. It stands for strength, might, endurance. ‘One of Valiance’, even. Perhaps: ‘Admirable one’—”

It’s the first time Mairon ever experiences throwing up.

Galadriel sits beside him, and doesn’t say a word more.

He’s glad. 

Or, maybe he isn’t.

He doesn’t understand what he feels these days.

The wine Sauron pours to the raven-haired elf in his dreams is thick.

Too thick to be wine— but just as deceptively sweet.

On other nights, he pours and it keeps going, and going, and going. It gushes down his palms and down the nameless peak he’s standing in, and cascades down the cliff- like a thundering waterfall— no, an open wound. Sometimes the elf pushes him forward from the back, and it stings like a stabbing betrayal. (Other times, Mairon simply chooses to fall.)

When he plummets, it’s into red seas. It feels like wading through molasses; exhausting a pain into his limbs more than the dull ache at his nape and the throb of his suffocating lungs. Then there’s the twinkle of starlight throwing him off every time he swims. He always mistakes them for the night sky, and he blindly reaches towards the surface— until they turn out to be the white-faces of barnacles instead, attached to the maws of a sea-wyrm deep in the ocean.

Tonight, however, he swims in the right direction. 

The raven-haired elf pulls him out with a trusting, helping hand wrapped in a gauntlet; and when Sauron breaches ashore, he’s not kneeling at his feet on sands or bones, but instead on the all-too familiar cracked, black stones of his old fortress up in the bleak frigidness of Forodwaith.

Mairon is garbed in soaking red robes.

This time, Adar coronates Sauron not with Morgoth’s crown, but with a rotting horse skull named Abârz—

“You have a strange shadow, ‘Maril,” Eärien tells you, not long after you’d come down to Nísimaldar to assist in the clean-up effort. “It’s shaped like… a funny-looking man who always seems to look as if he’s rolled around in the dirt for ten hours.”

You blink, puzzled, then turn to where she’s peering over your shoulder.

Halbrand’s eyes dart away just as you meet his gaze. 

“Friend,” you correct, levelling an unimpressed glare back at your table of teasing looks. “Halbrand is a friend.”

Isildur raises his brows once you begin gathering another fresh bowl of seafood. “Don’t forget the oysters. I hear they’re great for men’s libid—”

“Shut your mouth when you eat,” comes your sharp flick at his ear, going to leave as the rest of the cadets break into laughter. “Even Berek has better manners than you, airhead.”

Halbrand, shaded under a temporary forge set up by the treeline near the half-constructed stables, senses you long before he hears your voice. You’re appraising him again. He can feel it. It reminds him of the barnacles staring, and he has to actively remember not to be instinctively beset.

You’ve been kind, after all.

Frustratingly so. 

And Sauron, as uncertain as he has been of everything (and by everything, he means his entire simulacrum of an existence— or, reincarnation? Re-embodiment?) of late, is smart enough to know not to bite the hand that feeds him. You’d made it clear that night in the forge, after all, that you’re a friend. And if not that, then at the very least— an ally.

So it’s no surprise he sets the horseshoes he’s working on aside, and relents to your plate of food. It is a surprise, however, when a few minutes later you go:

“Thank you, by the way.”

He shuts your train of thought down before it can take off.

“Don’t start,” Sauron says, voice a low rasp. He knows where you’re going with this: You’ll thank Halbrand for going out of his way to help, for lending a hand with the rebuilding, for putting down a boy’s dying horse. He wants nothing to do with it. 

“Then I want to—”

“Don’t apologise either,” he interjects, failing to hold back the mild bite. (So much for biting the hand, huh?) 

Sauron had chosen, anyway, to take it upon himself to toil away in the forge, from sunrise to sundown; Dedicating himself to aiding the reconstruction by crafting everything from bridles, stirrups and bits, to metal brackets, hinges, and nails. He’d toiled because it focused him; because he’s utilitarian at heart and so despises uselessness; because it helps blur the waking haunts of horses and the seas under the hissing and clanging of working metal. 

(Besides, there’s plenty to improve in this part of the island, and Sauron is the type to not count flaws and cracks but to instead step up and fix them.)

So there’s no place for you to apologise. 

“You work quickly,” you redirect instead, avoiding the urge to bicker with him. “Some might say almost tirelessly. Seems you’re getting into our good graces, from what I hear.”

“Well, you ought to listen closer.” Local gossip is difficult to not earwig, especially if the topic is about a low-man from the South; even more so that they don’t expect said low-man to have a passable fluency in Adûnaic. 

You don’t bother to hide the amused look on your face. “Right. Well. They do say eavesdroppers never hear but ill of themselves. What have you gathered, jailbird?”

“That I would be their downfall,” he says, then after a mouthful, goes: “That I would squander their resources and drain their waters and steal their women,” which makes you laugh.

“Númenórean women are not so easily taken.”

He hums at that. “And are you?” 

“…Am I what?”

“Númenorean.”

You blink. Halbrand levels a gaze you suddenly can’t meet. It’s a game he plays, you guess right then, between the crawl of heat up your cheeks. Of sharpening ulterior meanings into both sides of his words like one would a sword’s edge. 

(“The low-man said that?” Isildur titters, much later. “What a smooth advance! I ought to give him a—”

“Beheading,” Eärien overrides, “You do know he also effectively implied your sister may be easy?”

Isildur cheers. “And he’s honest? Outstanding!”)

“I believe I am one, and that’s enough for me,” you lie. The thought has crossed your mind before— that you may very well be an orphan descendant of those who had sided with the Enemy, once upon a time. That it’s likely you’ll die long before your own foster family does. 

“And if you’re wrong?” asks Halbrand. He enjoys making you squirm. “Shall that be enough?”

“Then so be it,” you wrinkle your nose, displeased yet matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t matter what type of life we’ve been chanced to be given, jailbird, so long as we live it doing the right thing.”

Until it becomes part of your nature, Sauron abruptly remembers Diarmid; of his words; the necklace he’d cruelly taken from the old man that stormy night. The advice had been unwelcome then, and now it seems to haunt him still.

“Is that your heraldry?”

Halbrand loosens his grip. His hand has been flying to the pouch out of habit, lately. “No.” Then, after you scrutinise him, cocks his head and says, “Is it so hard to believe we might quite be the same— Lost and found at sea?”

“You have a past,” you point out, the same way Elendil had chivvied you then. (If you had noticed him blink away in a flinch, he’s grateful you don’t mention it.) “But no, not so hard to believe, considering that’s precisely how my father found you too. It’s just hard for me to believe someone would be so willing to sever ties with their history.”

“I found this on a dead man.”

“Then why keep it?”

“Thought it looked fancy,” he dodges.

“A pearl is fancy,” you reflect, unconsciously flexing your fingers. The ring he’d caught the first day you two met lustres now at certain angles of the setting sun, beyond the horses grazing lazily in half-barren pastures.

Your answer is hardly a surprise to him. A bereft orphan would likely covet something as insignificant as a worn-out emblem if it meant a potential link to their true heritage, no matter how thin or nonsensical. Yours just happens to be a pearl.

“Beauty is subjective, seabird,” he comments sagely, before letting curiosity get the better of him to ask, “Is that from the tidepool, too?”

No, you want to say. I like to think my mother gave it to me. “Yes. It was in my grasp when my father found me; so came my name.”

Halbrand finishes his bowl, and doesn’t say a word more.

You’re glad.

“You know, I meant to say earlier, before you interrupted me,” you begin out of the blue, voice possessing that Nienna-esque lilt that makes him unconsciously want to shrink into himself. “…You shouldn’t have had to be the one.” 

He follows your gaze to one of the Bay horses being herded away. Its body gleams; a vibrant, rich red-brown in the dusk that needles a strange grief into him. The colour reminds Mairon of his old form. 

“You’re right, I didn’t,” he agrees distastefully. Needless suffering also falls under the realm of uselessness, however. Perhaps, in a twisted, roundabout way, Sauron had chosen to put down Abârzî. “…But I’ve done far worse things.” 

You watch him tuck the necklace away beneath his collar, and he wonders, briefly, if you’d caught his shudder; his waver. 

“To survive,” you emphasise. Surely.

He laughs under his breath. It’s neither sad nor sordid, just empty. 

“Not all of it.”

Sauron opens his eyes to a crowned shadow and a blade.

Do not fear, it says. And when its hand had come away with a fistful of his long, braided hair, cut from his blazing red head— it repeats itself to him again, though this time in the commanding tongue of Black Speech.

Do not fret.

(He frets, and begs. He disobeys because he’s terrified— but it’s all happening under his skin. Black Speech cannot completely overpower the mind, you see, but it can command and seed an intent in it; a sliver of power over the flesh, if willed so. He can fret and beg all he likes; it will never translate to his body. 

Now he’s just a vessel, still as a Bay horse caught neath a great tree, watching and waiting; helpless and paralysed.)

He catches the glint of the dagger but he cannot scream.

Do not fret, Morgoth commands, in that divinely, beautiful way only a Valar can make all guttural words sound. Do not fret, Abârzî.

Mairon startles awake.

When the candlelight flickers with the moon, he mistakes them for blood on his hands and a stable floo—

“Y’alright, brother?” Someone claps him on the back.

It’s noon, now. It feels like he’s woken up for the third time today. 

The stables are coming up nicely (Quickly, because Halbrand works when everyone else is asleep). The clouds are thick, so the day isn’t beating down on the horses as they feed on bran and alfalfa, and there aren’t any damning signs of coming rain to hinder what little is left of the reconstruction today.

“Never better,” Halbrand says, after steadying his heavy breathing. The perfectly delivered lie is somehow miraculously seen through, however, and promptly called out, via: an insistent pint of ale into his calloused hands that’s supposedly the ‘cure to all ailments’. 

He learns the old drunkard’s name is Seamus.

He learns a bit of everything to nothing, really; until the sun had sunken too far beneath the canopies of the Mellyrn, and the dappled light faded into drifting spots, and all that was left of their drinks was a final sip. Sauron had found himself both inexplicably refreshed and exhausted between the overload that managed to distract him from the cavernous feeling in his chest.

“It’s a swallow bird. We sailors tattoo it as belief it’ll lead us back home when we get out at sea,” says the old man, between a tangent on island customs and traditions beyond the primly ‘Nobody kneels in Númenor’ ones. “Why? Lookin’ to get inked yourself?”

Halbrand blinks.

He had composed as Mairon among the other Ainur in the Timeless Halls for the Ainulindalë, once upon a time; and then served, much, much later, as Sauron alongside Morgoth in the Iron mountains of Thangorodrim. Neither exactly had been something anybody would call a home— One was simply a state of Being far beyond Eä, and the other had been both a fortress and a prison. 

“Don’t have a home to return to,” is all he decides.

It sounds a lot like a realisation.

“Aye, well…” The drunkard flails his hand to the chilly winds. “Swallows mate for life.”

Halbrand frowns in confusion. Seamus just laughs, mad.

He doesn’t understand what the crazy old shrimp had meant, until two days later (of which Sauron still had only understood half of what was told to him, if he’s being honest) when the stables had at last been completed and the locals put together a small feast for everyone who had come together to help.

Crab legs had been the catalyst, oddly enough. 

Or, rather, how you seemed to move amongst the people-who-may-not-be-your-people, and spoke to your family-who-isn’t-actually-your-family.

“Here,” you say, and idly lay skillfully de-shelled crab legs and a lobster tail on your bright-eyed sister’s plate. Then onto your even-more-bright-eyed brother’s plate, before doing the same to those within your reach at the table, including Halbrand— sitting adjacent and at a length, because nobody quite fancied sitting next to a brooding stranger.

“I can de-shell my crabs on my own,” he had wanted to huff, put out by the way he suddenly felt impeccably small by your limitless grace and social-butterfly-ness, but one of the cadets had beaten him to it.

Your answer is a smile that’d made Mairon think of Nienna again, followed by a winsome, “I know you can.”

He lingers on what you’d told him ere a week ago, at the forge when you’d come to him saying he looked most at home with a hammer and tongs in hand, and drafts in his head something he tells you much later, which is:

“You looked different around your not-people.”

You’re wrapped in a pelerine cloak that seems to do little with the cold Mallorn-fragrant winds, here at the Bay of Eldanna, where you’ve somehow convinced him to follow you down to at the crack of dawn. (It’s not like he could sleep through the night, anyway, now that the stables are complete and there’s nothing left to busy himself with for the time being.)

It’s early enough that the carpet of stars in the sky shines the rocky shoreline a blinding silver, and only the lantern-lit trawlers far out at sea are awake to fish for teeming shoals of shrimps in season beyond the reef. 

“My not-people?” you yawn, gathering up your cloak and shift dress to toe between the rocks. “Ah. I get it. Because I’m an outsider.”

He raises a tolerant eyebrow. “I’m the outsider, seabird.” To which you answer, breezily, as if it’s a simple equation: 

“Not to me. If it helps though, we can both be outsiders together.”

He barely has time to wrap his head around together when you begin skipping across the tidepools.

“I meant,” he trails after you, ungainly and tender-footed to the shallows compared to your well-versed steps. He had not been raised by the sea like you. “That you looked at home; with your people. And tha— Eärmaril, why did you bring me out here with a bucket?”

You peer at the crevices of the outcrops, turning over black slabs with a trained eye. “Have you ever had soft-shell crabs? They’re active around this time of night, so watch your step. If you’re not getting pinched by their claws, you’ll get stabbed by an urchin.”

“You loon!” he exclaims. “You brought me here for a hunting trip?”

“Hush, now! Or you’ll scare the fur seals further down the coast,” you hiss over your shoulder. “And no. I brought you here because I know you won’t be sleeping, anyway.”

The blatant accusation has him slipping from a jutting rock face.

You catch his hand to steady him.

(He’s warm. Some part of you wants to pull him close.)

“I overheard the farriers. They say the only reason the stables got put up that quickly is because you worked through the night.” You inform him as delicately as you can, because there’s a recognisable, vestigial haunt in his eyes you’ve seen in your father’s, under the shimmer of Eärendil’s starlight. “Is it nightmares, Halbrand?”

“See, Amm— Mother saved Isildur when he was a child.” Nobody in the family prefers to say drowned except your father, because the word is bitter to the taste. “I was there when it happened. Couldn’t sleep for weeks after. Do you dream of the waters too?”

The defensive frown he’d put up melts away, but you can see Halbrand steel himself, still, in order to answer.

“I dream of barnacles,” Sauron allows, brusque so as to cut the conversation short as he regains his footing.

You let go and narrow your eyes at him. 

After a long moment, you conclude, resolutely: “Valar, you’re a terrible liar, jailbird.”

And Mairon couldn’t help it— 

He laughed.

(It sends your heart stumbling.)

“Believe me when I say, seabird, that if I were to deceive you, you would never know.”

“…Right,” you scoff, quick to turn away to hide the budding smile on your face as you carve his laugh and awfully handsome grin into memory. “Now, come and be useful, will you? Before the tide runs in with daybreak.”

He can do that. He likes to be useful.

So he does.

Sauron, however, gathers alarmingly quickly that he’s as helpful as an infant grappling the ways of the water for the first time. Some distant part of him enjoys it, though— learning. It reminds him of his long gone time with Aulë.

Learning to follow your effortless sea-nymph dance across the jagged shallows, memorising how to identify which rocks to flip and the right ways to harvest mollusks or crabs without risking a fingertip, all while unconsciously committing to mind the shanties you hum under your breath.

You tell Halbrand stories and Mairon listens despite the general inanity of it; because he’s a quiet sort, and because he likes the diluting distraction of it all. 

Little things, like how your mother had bequeathed the craft of pottery to you, or that your father had preferred to teach you to fight instead of fish (“I can hardly imagine that,” Sauron muses, which earns him a sharp look and a: “Well, you don’t seem the imaginative type, anyway.”); that Eärien’s artistic strength is adapted from her uncanny skill of observation, and that Isildur is often wayward because he’s as free-spirited as the sun.

The conversation whiles and goes until the sky slowly pales awake, and the fur seals begin to bark and bay at the shorebirds and skimmers diving close to the rolling surfs. When the stretch of Eldanna’s shoreline finally raises, peaks and tidepools drowning back below the cresting of blue seas, the both of you make headway back inland.

“I was telling the truth,” he says, abruptly, which made you stop in your tracks at the beach. Your cloak is billowing from the salt gusts, edges sticking to the wet of your ankles.

“You don’t have to tell me,” comes your honest answer. 

But he wants to. It feels right to. Here Mairon stands bearing witness to the intimacies of your life, while he had nothing to offer you in return beneath the veneer of Halbrand. It’s only fair to do the same. An exchange, if you will. It’s all he’s ever known.

He sets the bucket of skittering crabs on to the wet sand, and dips his feet at the lap of the tide. “I dream of the Dark,” Sauron admits. “Of a light I cannot reach. The ocean is always red— red as my hands— and the rock-faces are always white and blinking.”

Barnacles. You understand now.

“When I wake up, I feel like I’m bracing for something, but I don’t know what,” he says, which he’s quick to realise had been an instinctive lie, and so he amends it with an explanation. “Like I’m charging headfirst into the abyss, and I’m bracing myself for the impact. For a fight or a— punishment.”

Halbrand kicks at a bubbling bump in the water and out pops a shell. (It’s a whelk. Lightning whelk, if Sauron is being precise. He’d listened to you listing the different kinds an hour ago.) 

“Anybody home?” you peer.

“Mh.” Sauron assents and tosses the hermit back to the waves.

He looks at where the open sky meets the sea, thinks of the knee-high swathes of sea oats growing at the coastlines of Valinor if he’d set sail Westwards from Eldanna and choose not to look back. He entertains idly on the idea of home for a beast such as himself— if it’s even possible to tame savagery into such domestications. 

Then he resists on asking you if there’s a difference between making a home and inventing one (those are questions for another sleepless night, he supposes), and instead glances down to where you’ve stepped into one of the remaining tidepools and back out.

A smooth pebble with a perfectly circular hole in its centre, still damp from its discovery, sits in your palm.

“What in Eru’s name is that?” he furrows, watching you wink at him through the gap.

“A hagstone,” you say, unoffended. “My other brother Anárion has one, though he prefers calling it an adder stone. Ammê told us they were naturally-occurring talismans. They ward off anything evil and protects its keeper. Catch.”

He does so with attractive ease.

(…You commit that to memory, too.)

“You don’t actually believe this little thing, do you, seabird?” he asks, tossing the piece up in his hands.

His snort makes you roll your eyes. “See! You are the unimaginative type. Halbrand, it’s the nature of a thing that matters, not its form.”

Right. He’d forgotten you are You; who built a home in the people; whose wound is your geography and history— or lack thereof— and who’s chosen to anchor to Númenor, because your foster family is where you found your true port of call. 

“You Númenóreans are an odd lot,” he settles candidly, and curls his fingers around the hagstone.

“Odd?”

“Superstitious,” he clarifies.

“I prefer traditional,” you volley.

“Try paranoid.”

Your warm laugh breaks with the surf of the shore, makes him tarry on the sight and sound of you.

“Red sky in the morning; sailor’s warning…”

“Red sky at night; sailor’s delight,” Halbrand recites Seamus, scoffing humorously. “I mean… Boarding a ship right foot first? Nailing a horseshoe under the mast, laying a silver coin for Uinen or tattooing swallows to lead the way home? And no whistling on board, lest it’ll challenge the winds; Or so Isildur claims of Manwë.”

“Ah, but don’t forget—”

“—Never rename a ship,” he says in unison.

Halbrand shakes his head, but the fond look on his face is undeniable as you break out into another merry smile. Your plan to chase away his night-terrors seem to have worked perfectly. If you’d thought him handsome before, then he looks utterly divine now. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. There’s another one, though,” you hum, eyes fixated at the gulls taking wing to and fro their nests, the trawlers sailing home with their morning catch. “Never ever bring harm to a seabird.”

He cocks his head. “If I didn't know any better, seabird, I’d say you were making a threat.”

“And?” you smile. “Do you, jailbird?”

“Do I what?”

“Know better.”

Halbrand laughs again. A charming peal of a sound, canine-wide and punched out. It makes your heart sing— makes you wonder when was the last time he laughed this freely.

“You!” he exclaims once more, but there’s a thunderdrum in his ribs to reckon with all of a sudden, from the way the first break of light begins to dawn on your face and the charming, affectionate grin flowering across it, and so he couldn’t finish his insult after all.

You offer him wine in his dreams. 

Soot blackens your fingers as he takes it, but the stains don’t seem to bother you.

Weighty is a hagstone in his palm.

The sea is blue and quiet—

And barnacles are just barnacles, now.

Footnotes in AO3!

[baby-dragons-art]

There is no life in the void..... But there could beeeeeee.

Follow for more of my art on instagram!

: https://www.instagram.com/baby__dragon__draws/?hl=en

[storiesaplenty]

Coercion (18+)

Annatar (Sauron) x gn/Reader

The Rings of Power Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings. Smut under the cut. Oral. Cum swallowing. Use of a blindfold. coercion by Annatar

WC: 822

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Annatar calls for his favourite elf to come & see him, but it isn't to help with the last remaining rings.

"You called for me, Lord Annatar?" Their soft voice said to me.

I looked over my shoulder at the sound of their voice, already knowing that they were here.

The doors closed behind them, leaving the two of us alone.

I turned around to look at them, looking them up and down.

They were the most beautiful elf I have ever seen, and today is finally the day I make them mine.

I knew that Adar was coming any day now, and I did not have much time.

"Yes I did, now please have a seat." I pointed to the chair that I wanted them to sit in.

I took the seat across from them.

"I have noticed the wonderful work you have done with the rings, and I wanted to say thank you." I said to them, and I could see them trying to keep a smile off their face.

From what I gathered about them, was that their mother was an elf, and their father was a mere man.

Celebrimbor took pity on them, being a half-ling and all, and took them under his guidance.

They were kind of how should I say, flighty. Their human side seeming to take over more than the elf side.

"I am just doing what is asked of me my Lord." They said.

"I know, and I noticed. You always do each task without any complaints, and that is why I have brought you here to help me with one special task."

"Anything Lord Annatar." How sweet of them to be so eager to help me.

I felt my cock twitch under the fabric I am wearing.

"I have a message from the Valor, but I can not access it without someone who is a true believer."

"I am a true believer, but you have never had issues before."

They were confused.

How cute.

I stood up, walking around them in the seat, slowly.

"This message is of top priority, and as such, it comes to me in a different way. Now, will you help me or not?"

"Yes, Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now I need you to wear this blindfold." I placed a blindfold in their hand, and they looked at me, and then back at the blindfold.

"A bright, white light will appear and I do not wish any harm to come to you. Now, please put it on."

They did as I asked, and I did a few hand movements to make sure that they couldn't see anything.

"Now, I need you on the floor, on your knees, hands firmly in your lap."

I started to remove my clothes as they did as I asked.

My cock in my hand, as I jerked it up and down.

"Now, this part may be odd, but please know that it will not last long, and that this needs to be done to get the full message."

"Yes Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now keep your mouth open." I said as I placed the tip of my cock in their mouth.

I watched them carefully to see how they would react as I started to push my hips forward.

"You're doing so well." I said, my breath almost catching in my throat as they took me inch by inch down their throat.

"Now, this part may be a bit rough, but do not move away. We need to stay connected for this message to come through."

I pulled my hips back, leaving just the tip in their mouth before thrusting forward, making them choke just a bit around my cock, but they didn't move.

Not even when I put my hands on the back of their head and held them there was a fucked their face and mouth.

I made no sounds as I wanted them to believe that I was actually concentrating on trying to get a message from the Valor.

But I knew I was close.

I could feel my balls tense up, my thrusting was becoming erratic.

"Now, some liquid will come out, but I need you to swallow it." Was all I got before I came down their throat.

They quickly swallowed it all, not wasting a single drop.

I step back and they were trying to breathe through their nose as I quickly got dressed.

I took my seat once more. "You may take the blindfold off."

I watched as their confused eyes landed on me.

"Did you get the message my Lord?" They asked as they licked their lips, probably wondering what just happened.

"Yes, you did wonderful. I knew you were the Elf for the job."

A smile came over their face.

"Now, once you leave here, do not tell the others what has happened. No one else needs to know how special you are."

They stood up, and I dismissed them

I watched them as they left my room.

Now, how do I get them in my bed?

Part 2

[queers-gambit]

thank you so so much for all of your elrond fics !! they are masterpieces and i’ve reread each one ab three times bc they are so so good 💌💌 i’m in a spiralling trop brain rot and i thank you for contributing xx

thank you so very kindly! we can spiral together, my precious, cause the TROP brain rot is so real. it's lowkey taken over my life, i honestly cannot focus on anything else.

i'm debating starting a Sauron fic, too 🥴 i just don't know if i want it to be with Halbrand or Annatar, and what the plot would be. but i'm leaning towards a sort of "Yin Yang" dynamic; he's Dark, she's Light.

we'll see where my mania takes us. but if anyone has an idea, please give me direction 😂 otherwise it's gonna get REALLY unhinged, REALLY quick. i'm so very happy you're here. there's more Elrond to come!

all my love 🖤

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A step closer

Pairing: Sauron x Manwë

Warnings: none

Word count : 600+ words

Summary: Sauron is brought to Manwë after spending his allotted time in Lumbi, and makes his own choice known.

A/n: What started as an idea for LOTR20, turned into something else altogether

Divider by@saradika

Ilmarin had not changed since Sauron walked it last. The tapestries were exactly as they were, the stained glass windows were exactly as they were, and even the scrollwork on all those slender columns were exactly as they were. He would recognize them by touch alone, for it was he who aided his master when crafting them for the Elder King. 

Aulë was not my master, he corrected himself. He may have been my mentor, and taught me all that I knew, but he was never my master. My true master still waits for me in the Void. 

A hush lay upon the great throne room. The others had turned to face their king. Manwë leaned down from his lofty throne and regarded him with kindly eyes. 

"You have served your allotted time in Lumbi," he began, "and must now await my decision on where you will go from here. Before I make my decision, Mairon, I need to know if you wish to repent and sue for pardon?"

Mairon. That was his name once. And yet, it felt strange coming from the lips of the king. Manwë hurried his name a little, as if speaking it caused him pain. Sauron fought back the urge to radiate pure joy. It pleased him no end to see the Elder King so uncomfortable. 

"No, my lord," he replied without fear. "I will neither repent nor sue for pardon. I will not grovel, and I refuse to live out a miserable existence as another's servant in this staid realm again."

"But you were his servant as well. Pray how was that any different?"

"I may have been your brother's servant in name, but in deed, I was his equal in all things. He made me a lord in my own right. He never restrained me, as others would have. And he loves me. Truly. Does that satisfy you, my lord?"

The other Ainur had been whispering in hushed tones, scandalized by everything they heard. Sauron answered so boldly, his spirit radiating light like fired gold with each word he uttered. He studied some of those who had gathered to hear of his fate. Námo sat as if he had been hewn out of stone. His countenance, as always, was a perfect mask. Aulë and Yavanna looked pained, and Tulkas looked as if he yearned to throw hands. Sauron paid them no mind, for they meant nothing to him. He simply waited for the king to speak. 

"I see," Manwë replied, and sighed. "And do you accept the charges laid at your feet?"

"Yes," Sauron answered in return. 

"And do you still choose the Void?" The king asked.

"Better to rule by his side in the Void than to serve in paradise, my lord." 

More hushed whispers followed. Some of the other Ainur sounded appalled.

"Better to rule by his side in the Void than to serve here," Manwë echoed, as if saddened by what he heard. His brother had declared such in a similar vein before he left to forge a kingdom of his own. "Well, if that is your wish—"

"It is," Sauron interjected sharply. "My lord."

The king turned to Námo, and something unheard passed between them. Then he cleared his throat and addressed them all. 

"Then so it shall be, Mairon." Sauron listened carefully while the king issued his verdict. "You will be cast through the Door of Night and into the Void, and there you shall forever remain. May your decision bring you much peace."

It will, Sauron thought to himself, for it has brought me a step closer to being united with him once more. He voiced his pleasure with Manwë's judgment, and waited while the warriors escorting him to the Door of Night armed and armored themselves. 

 Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil

[wroniec]

Mairon

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Halbrand (Sauron) visiting you in your dreams…

Your eye caught the split lip and swelling bruise on his cheek. The drying blood did very little to quell the unease growing in your chest.

You were warned not to speak with him. It was explicitly requested that you alert Galadriel or Elrond should Sauron venture into your dreams again… but your heart loved too fiercely. Maybe it was as Galadriel had feared, that you had fallen in love by the allure of his darkness but you had fallen.

“Are you in pain?” You asked.

Halbrand seemed surprised by the question. He had visited each night for the past week speaking of adventures, whispering apologies or reminiscing over stolen moments and you had not uttered a single word - until now. 

“Physical pain can be endured. The ache in my chest, however, echoes more greatly.” He answered.

You turned away briefly in an attempt to wash away his implication of lingering emotions. Instead, you focused on another thought that plagued your mind.

“You are a being of great power.” You stated and looked at him once more. “Why have you subjected yourself to this?”

“Perhaps it was the only way to have you speak to me again?” Halbrand teased. When you chose not to comment he continued. “Or perhaps it is my penance for causing you such hurt?”

“That is no answer.” You told him sternly.

Halbrand softened his gaze and smiled lovingly like he had on so many occasions. “It is not but there are some secrets that I must hold on to. Surely you understand?”

“I do not hold on to secrets as you would assume.”

“No? Then why have you not yet awoken and called for the guards to report my appearance? Why have you chosen to keep Galadriel in the dark about my visits?” He questioned.

You remained silent. He was right. But you had no desire to confess that to him and you had a feeling that he knew it too.

“The hour is growing late. I will leave you to your dreams.” Halbrand said. “I do hope we speak again soon.”

He waited for a few moments. You had wanted to tell him to stay safe but that was far too complicated with what has unfolded. So you said nothing and watched him vanish, leaving you to dream of an empty room.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Oh how I’ve missed writing for this show!

[dracowars]

angel | annatar

pairing: annatar x elf!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where annatar fails to protect what is most precious to him

a/n: this man has me in a chokehold, writing for him is so much fun!! thank you for all the love and support on my first annatar one shot, i'm so excited to write more for him in the future. i hope you enjoy this one as well and ily all <3

warnings: angst, manipulation, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, mentions of death, character death

universe: the rings of power

You breathe in relief when you finally reach a clearing, the fresh air blowing through your hair, the sun high in the sky warming your face. Breathing heavily and holding on to the stones at the exit of the cave tunnel you just stumbled through, you leave the protective walls behind you with a few more steps. Your gaze wanders over Eregion, immediately diminishing the short spark of joy you felt. The beautiful city, your home, lies in ruins. Most of the buildings have crumbled or burned beyond recognition and even from up here you can hear the roar of the numerous orcs invading the city. The sun, which brightens yet another day, does nothing to cheer you up. It is merely a reminder of what you have lost in the last few horrifying hours. The night may be over, but the battle is not.

You take a moment to take in the disaster, but hiss when you suddenly feel a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The climb up here has cost you an enormous amount of strength and you can't even formulate a coherent thought anymore. You look down at yourself, your precious dress dirty and torn. Trembling, you remove your hand from the wound on your stomach, where an arrow had pierced your flesh just a few moments ago. You broke it off in agony and tried to stop the blood with your hand, but you continue to lose blood, causing you to stagger a little.

You are not a fighter, you are a simple elf and resident of Eregion. Never in your eternal life would you have expected to see Eregion fall. And its Lord with it.

Celebrimbor has been entirely dedicated to the creation of the Rings of Power. For the past few weeks he has been left in solitude to end what he started. You gave him the time and space he needed. And prayed that he finishes his work before it finishes him, as Lord Annatar put it. But what did all these precautions ultimately lead to? You stood there, watching your only home get destroyed. You stood there, watching your best friend fall to her death by the hand of Celebrimbor. You stood there and let him accuse Annatar of the most atrocious deeds.

Annatar, who sacrificed so much for him, for this city. Annatar, who always helped everyone in need, who did not shy away from standing up against the Lord of Eregion or fighting for the well-being of the elves.

Annatar, who captured your heart.

Which is why you find yourself on top of a mountain right now and not in the middle of a fight for life or death. Celebrimbor's mind is gone. And the proof lies right in front of you, your beautiful, breathtaking Eregion - nothing more than rubble and ashes.

All you knew is that you had to follow him.

'Stay', Annatar told you with his beautiful shining eyes in which you discovered the stars. 'You are safe here.'

You nodded. And still followed him.

And now you understand why you should have listened to him. As you turn around and look into the forest that is at the top of the mountain, you see him standing there, his sword drawn. But he is not alone. At first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, that the heavy loss of blood was confusing your thoughts, causing you to hallucinate, but you actually see Galadriel standing opposite him.

Not only that, they are also surrounded by orcs who are just waiting for the order to attack. An order from none other than Adar, who is slowly walking towards Annatar now as well, with his weapon drawn.

"No", you gasp under your breath, stumbling your way toward them. You take one painful step after the other. They haven't noticed you yet, the trees covering you protectively. Breathing heavily, you lean against a broad trunk, a few steps already exhausting your weak body, Annatar's words wafting over to you more and more clearly the closer you get. You swallow hard, but as you want to turn to them, your gaze is caught by an orc lying dead on the ground, his blade capturing the sunlight breaking through the treetops.

Carefully, you approach the creature and grab its weapon in a swift movement. The handle of the sword feels heavy in your hands and you would rather drop it immediately. But you have to somehow make sure that you can defend yourself if necessary. Once again, you breathe in and move on.

Galadriel and Adar are facing Annatar together now, apparently coming to a silent agreement to focus their attention on Annatar for the time being. Once you realize this betrayal, your weakend heart beats faster. Because how can Galadriel of the Ñoldor, daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin, Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-galad, side with this monster? With the man who is responsible for numerous deaths, for the destruction of Eregion? Whose orcs are currently ravaging an entire city, dividing families and carrying elven souls on their conscience.

Blinking your tears away that well up in your eyes at the thought and sight of it, you try to steady your steps. When you were just a little elf, you looked up to Galadriel, but now you don't recognize her anymore, from the stories you were once told. The only thing that calms you down a little is the fact that Annatar doesn't seem surprised by this turn of events at all. He stands there, his dark armour swallowing the rays of sunshine, his sword lying loosely in his hand. If you didn't know better, you imagine that you can even see a mischievous, knowing smile on his lips from the distance.

In a high arc, Galadriel swings her sword at Annatar and thus opens the fight. Annatar, however, dodges the attack skillfully, making it look like it was not even remotely dangerous for him. In contrast, Galadriel has to parry his blows with great effort. You didn't know that Annatar was such a good fighter, but it seems like he always has a trick up his sleeve.

Even when Adar joins the fight and Annatar now has to dodge two life threatening blades, he is not challenged at all. Although you wonder how long he can keep this up. No matter how good of a fighter he is, immortal or not, the odds are clearly against him. That is why you look around for help, searching for something that could potentially aid him in this battle. However, all you see is a lot of orcs standing at the other end of the clearing, idly watching the spectacle. Fearing that they might spot you, you step back in order to be hidden from their view by the thick trunk of a tree. Or so you hope.

As you move, a branch cracks under your boots. The sound is barely audible, but Annatar's gaze meets yours in an instant and his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes that one split-second glance for him to discover that you are badly injured. That you are bleeding. And that you have disobeyed his words, his direct order.

Although he is only distracted for a tiny second, Galadriel takes this chance and strikes, hitting Annatar's face with the tip of her sword, which inevitably makes you gasp aloud in shock. Now Galadriel and Adar definitely noted your presence, the orcs as well, but you can only watch in silence as a tiny droplet of blood runs from the cut on Annatar's cheek.

"Leave! This is not your fight", Galadriel calls over to you, breathing heavily, her face and golden hair dirty. Her expression screams at you to go. Adar, on the other hand, looks at you with pity. And Annatar looks like he is about to burn the whole world down. In one swift move, he attacks Galadriel again, unable to believe that she has actually shed his blood.

You are forced to tear your eyes away from the fight, however, when you suddenly hear snarling and footsteps on the leaf-covered ground to your left. Your presence on top of the mountain seems to have peaked the orcs' interest.

Sharp pain shoots through your entire body as you lean your back against the tree trunk in order to hide your body from their view. You close your eyes to be able to discern their sounds better, breathing heavily. Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly with both hands, pressing it against your breasts with the blade pointing towards the ground, you stand there completely motionless. At least you try to, but the sword almost slips from your hands, your palms slick with your own blood, making it all the more difficult to hold on to. Your breathing is still louder and faster than you wish and you know that the creatures can smell your blood from miles away anyway.

They talk to each other as they get closer to you, completely ignoring their father's fight in the promising prospect of prey. When they are about to reach the tree behind which you are hiding, a command rings out through the thicket and the orcs look to its source and so do you. Before you can even realize what is happening, however, a blade suddenly pierces through Adar's upper body, causing the orcs to roar loudly. In an instant, they all charge towards the two figures that are still standing, Annatar's sword stained with black blood. To your surprise, not all of the orcs attack their father's murderer; some of them suddenly stab Adar, who has collapsed on the ground, with their own weapons.

They stab him again and again, black blood splattering everywhere. Bile rises in your throat, which you quickly swallow as you turn away from the horrifying sight.

When you hear your name across the clearing, however, you spot Annatar, who comes running towards you, the momentary chaos apparently enabling him to escape from the action as he reaches his hand out to you.

"You need to leave. Now", he orders, but you just shake your head with tear-filled eyes, which earns you a stoic but compassionate and sad look from him. He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn't get the chance when you suddenly see an orc charging towards you. With all your strength, you push Annatar away from you, so that the orc's axe lands in the tree trunk between the two of you. The sudden movement makes you dizzy and you almost fall to the ground if Annatar didn't grab your upper arm in the last second and pulled you up against him. The orc, now dead by his blade, lies to your feet.

The battlefield that stretches out before you is terrible: Adar's lifeless, blood-soaked body lies on the ground, Galadriel has to defend herself against some orcs, but the majority of them are attacking each other, apparently not agreeing on which orders they should follow now that Adar is dead. Some of them come towards you as well, not understanding their dead brother's warning. Annatar quickly grabs your hand and walks ahead, his body serving as a protective shield for you.

If you can't protect yourself, he will have to.

Together you fight your way through the charging orcs, whom Annatar defeats without much effort, so that you find yourself facing Galadriel again. She stands in front of you, dead orcs to her feet, one hand on her hip as she is obviously quite out of breath. When she spots you behind Annatar's back, her eyes widen.

"You're on the wrong side", she whispers through clenched teeth and slowly moves to the right, as if she wants to circle her prey. Annatar squeezes your hand briefly and then lets go so that he can fully concentrate on the fight in front of him. Before that, however, he signals you to move a little farther away, which you do immediately.

"Where are the rings?", he asks her, keeping a close eye on her, waiting for her next move. Meanwhile, you are struggling to ignore how the remaining orcs behind them are still fighting each other to death.

Instead of answering him, Galadriel sprints towards him with a battle cry and their swords meet several times. The force behind it causes Annatar to stumble a few steps backwards, towards you. Your vision is now so blurred, the pain running through your whole body so numbing, that you hardly notice it. You only vaguely perceive Annatar moving on to the next attack. Exhausted, you squeeze your eyes shut in the hope that the fog will clear from your vision. But it is to no avail. Everything is still blurry.

What you do see, however, is a small pouch lying next to the spot where Galadriel and Annatar are currently fighting. Narrowing your eyes, you try to discern what it could be, until Annatar's previous words come to your mind.

The rings. Galadriel must have lost them in the fight without noticing.

Making up your mind, you stumble a few weak, trembling steps towards it, away from the seemingly endless fight. When you reach the small pouch, you fall to your knees and carefully take it in your shaking hands. When you peak inside, several beautiful rings shine at you, enveloping you in their spell for a moment.

A moment it takes for an orc to stand in front of you with his raised blade after spotting you with the rings. A moment in which you can only raise your head and look the beast in the eye. Then his blood splatters everywhere, covering you in it, when his head is suddenly separated from the rest of his body with a clean cut. He would have ended your life here and now. You let out a frightened scream and frantically scramble to stand up when you feel a gentle touch on your arm. Looking deep into Annatar's eyes, you try to thank him for saving your life once again, but your vocal cords are not able to form any coherent words.

Then, everything happens very quickly. Out of the corner of your eye you see Galadriel rushing towards the two of you, her sword drawn. As if time moves very slowly, your gaze wanders to the man in front of you, who is unaware of the impending danger. Because his focus was on you, on protecting you. Without thinking twice, you tug on his arm, pulling him in your direction, and walk towards Galadriel yourself, throwing your beaten body between them.

You exhale in shock as her sword pierces right through your middle.

"NO!", you hear Annatar cry out loudly, anger and sadness mingling in his voice which breaks at the end. Galadriel, who is just as shocked as you are, stands in front of you with tears in her eyes. Her hand around her sword is trembling.

"I- I-", she stammers, but doesn't get much further as Annatar pushes her away with so much force that she flies through the air. She hits the ground and remains there, motionless. Gasping for breath, you fall to the ground as well, no longer able to hold yourself upright. Involuntarily, your hand goes to where the sword is still sticking out of you.

It hurts. It hurts so much that you can't even shed a tear, your breath catching in your throat. Black dots appear in your vision, covering the blue sky like stars. But then Annatar's face appears in front of you and they suddenly disappear.

"Stay with me. You hear me? Don't go", he shouts at you as he kneels next to you and bends over your fragile body, gently lifting you so that he can place your head on his lap. "No, no, no", he whispers quietly to himself, his hand wandering over your upper body without touching it, as if he could only do more damage otherwise.

You can't do anything but lie there, your throat too dry to choke out another word. The sun shining from behind Annatar's head makes him look like an angel, bringing a gentle smile to your chapped lips. With a trembling hand you lift the little pouch, which you still had in a firm grip, up to him.

Annatar's eyes widen and as soon as he feels the rings in his hand, he discards them. He feels your willpower leaving. Desperate for help, he looks around, thinking about how he could help you, how he could save you. But Galadriel is gone, with her one of the elven rings which might have given you a slim chance of survival. And he can't use the Nine because he personally made sure that they were corrupted.

"Why would you do that?", he asks you now, sounding so defeated, not understanding how you could give your life for his so thoughtlessly. If only you had known that he is not easy to kill, that his immortality cannot be threatened by a simple sword.

And yet here you are, on your way to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor.

"You can't leave me", Annatar says almost reproachfully, his hand gently stroking your still soft hair. His eyes, which look deep into yours, are getting glassier each moment. He simply can't accept that you are leaving him now, that you are leaving him alone, the only person who ever truly cared for him. Who made his cold heart of stone a little warmer, a little softer.

You were supposed to be his. His and only his forever.

"Leithio nin¹", your weak voice whispers in Sindarin, your hand searching for his and finally enveloping it on top of your slow beating heart. You tell him to release you, to release you from this pain, and yet he can't fathom how he should ever be able to let you go.

"I will bring you back. We will meet again, I will make sure of that. I promise. Even if I have to burn down the whole of Middle-earth just to see you again", he says, giving you one last promise which you consider with a small smile, your eyes heavy. You look at him closely one more time, to memorize his face for eternity, your trembling hand reaching for him. Before you can touch him one last time, feel his soft skin beneath your fingertips, your eyes close forever.

"Gi melin²", Annatar sobs, the words following you along on your journey before your last breath finally leaves you and your body goes limp in his arms. He puts his forehead against yours, pulling you as close to him as possible, rocking you, and a single tear finds its way down his cheek.

After just a few seconds, the sadness inside him mixes with anger. With unrelenting, burning anger. He will make everyone suffer for his loss.

He meant every word he said. He will bring you back, no matter what it takes.

And the One Ring will help him.

¹ Release me

² I love you

[little-diable]

Bound in Eternity - Halbrand/Sauron (smut)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“Halbrand, what a strange name to choose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[etherealeowyn]

I made a Sauron inspired playlist ❤️

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine that Sauron figures out that you were created for him...

Imagine that Sauron figures out that you were created for him... or because of him... that part is still unclear...

If he was Order, then you were Chaos, something he should despise but feels enchanted by.

If he was supposed to be light, you should be dark. And yet your darkness is more mischief than malice.

If he was meant to be a creator, then you should be a personification of destruction but somehow you inspire those around you.

He understands that you exist to counter him, that you were created because he went to the extremes and neither of you are how you should be but he is not sure why were you sent to him. And why now?

To balance him? To bring him back to where he belongs? To punish him when he lets his guard down? To destroy him?

He doesn't think he deserves anything better than the latter, even though he is sure it is not possible to completely erase his existence.

He doesn't understand you or your purpose here with him, and it fills him with fear, constant dread, it's almost like a slow unending stab to his heart, a heavy pain that won't leave him be. Yet he longs for you, feels hope when he looks at you, feels seen and understood when you listen without judgement but share your own thoughts that more often than not contradict him.

Anger evades him. It never shows when you defy him, it doesn't come when he thinks you are only here to play him. He realises it's because he doesn't care. As long as he has you everything else is inconsequential.

You give him peace and he loves you for it.