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build a dynasty

annatar/sauron x fem!elf!reader

summary: you have to watch eregion fall and with it your world, because the man you start to have feelings for, is not who he seems to be.

warnings: angst, blood, reader gets caught in an illusion, mentions of war and death, mind control, sauron being manipulative, maybe some sort of fluff?

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: i‘m glad you found your way here! <3 this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, so likes, reblogs and feedback are really appreciated. but since english is not my first language, please be nice to me. xx

The sound of the siege sirens could be heard throughout Eregion, sending goosebumps all over your body.

You stand on the balcony of the tower where Lord Celebrimbor's forge is located and you could feel the wind blowing through your hair. But there was no cold at all. Only the rising fear, because what you see in front of you, is the sight of pure horror.

From the edge of the forest across the river, cannons were fired, destroying the stone walls of the city you love so dear, as if they were made of sand.

The screams of the desperate elves reach your ears and you wish for nothing more, than to finally wake up from this nightmare.

But when you turn around to Celebrimbor, you see him working on the Nine without a care in the world. The Nine. The one thing that was the reason for Eregions downfall.

And there was only one person to blame.

“My Lord, we must leave immediately,” you call out as you hurry back inside, but Celebrimbor still doesn't move an inch. “My Lord!” you repeat, this time with more force.

Finally, the elf turns his head in your direction, but he doesn't seem disturbed at all. There is a slight smile on his face as he slowly stands up from his chair and walks over to you.

“Don't you hear? We are being attacked,” you try to explain to him, but he just takes your hands.

“My dear, you must be exhausted. Maybe you should take a break and get some rest?” he says quietly, raising his eyebrows.

You can't help but stare at him in disbelief, then take a small step back. “Maybe you’re right, I should take a break,” you say, turning away from him and starting to rush down the stairs, out of the tower.

As you step outside, the world around you seems to be coming to an end.

There was fire everywhere, rubble lay scattered on the floor and in the middle of it were the lifeless bodies of many elves.

Tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t have time for that now because you run straight into the chaos of the attack.

It doesn't take long to discover him. The reason for the downfall of Eregion and the boiling anger inside you.

“Lord Annatar!” you call over the loud noise around you and watch as he turns his face in your direction. His blue eyes immediately meet yours as he comes towards you.

“What is it? Is something wrong with the rings?” he asks and furrows his brows.

Without giving him an answer, you grab his wrist and pull him with you to the side. “Please tell me, what’s going on. Celebrimbor seems to have lost his mind, he just doesn't realize what's happening out here,” you begin, but Annatar puts his hands on your shoulders to calm you.

“You are right to worry about him. Let me look after him. You will stay here and defend the city until I return,” he orders you in a calm voice and strokes your cheek with his knuckles, leaving you no choice but to swallow the anger inside you.

You no longer know why you felt it and all you can do is to look at Annatar, who takes your hands in his and gently squeezes your fingers.

He breaks away from you moments later, but at that very second the siege sirens fall silent, making him stop.

“What’s happening?” you ask quietly as goosebumps spread across your body again.

A few other elves approach next to the both of you, looking worriedly towards the walls.

“They are drying up the river,” Mirdanias’ voice sounds and you feel the elf take your hand, catching your attention.

So you don’t notice, how Annatar slowly walks back to the tower.

“Have you spoken to Lord Celebrimbor?” Mirdania asks, looking at you with her eyes full of worry.

You nod slowly and turn to her. “He is not in a right state of mind. It seems as if he has completely lost it,” you repeat the words you said to Annatar before. “He will not give us any orders,” you add quietly.

The sound of drums is the sign that the orcs prepare to run across the exposed ground, that had previously been the river and you run towards the archers positioned on top of the walls. “Prepare for the ground attack! Don’t let them get into the city!” you shout as loudly as you can, then look up at the tower.

“Please make sure that the walls don’t fall,” you say to Mirdania as you already turn away.

“What are you going to do?” she calls after you.

“Getting my answers,” you say, more to yourself, while you walk straight towards the tower you had to leave earlier.

A heartbreaking sob was heard as you run up the stairs, just in time to see Celebrimbor pushing angrily against the table in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, walking past Annatar towards Celebrimbor who raises his shaking hand, his fingers completely smeared with black ink.

Or with something which seems like that.

Now your eyes fall on the vessel that the Mithríl was in. The true core of the Nine. But it wasn't what you thought it was.

“Tell me this isn't true,” you whisper and turn to Annatar. He slowly raises his hand and reveals a cut in his palm, a wound from which pitch black blood is dropping.

“True creation… requires sacrifice,” he says slowly and a gasp is heard from Celebrimbor.

He seems to realize, what slowly sinks into your mind, and a single tear falls from your eye. “So… it was all an illusion? All of this?”

Your voice just a whisper, laced with pain.

“You are him, aren’t you? You are… Sauron,” you say, which is what Celebrimbor seems to be afraid of.

“I have many names,” he replies and you are about to attack him with nothing more than your bare hands.

But you don’t get the chance, because suddenly you find yourself in the forge. You can't see any of the chaos around you, only the embers burning in the huge forge, illuminating the room.

“Did you really think you could ever stop any of this?” you suddenly hear his voice behind you and you close your eyes.

You realize that this must be another illusion.

Taken back to the moment when you knew exactly what you were feeling.

“I might not have been able to stop it, but I believed in the good. I believed that you wanted the best for us. But all you had in mind was our downfall,” you hiss through clenched teeth and flinch when you feel his touch on your arm.

“You're wrong,” he begins, now appearing in front of you. “I only want the best for you,” he continues, raising his hand. He touches your hair with his fingers and one corner of his mouth twitches slightly upwards.

“Don't you remember how much you trusted me? When you revealed your deepest desires to me?” he asks in a whisper and you close your eyes again.

“I can give you all of that. Everything you crave.” His voice rings in your head like a beautiful melody.

But you couldn’t let him in. You could not give yourself to him.

“None of this matters anymore,” you whisper, and another tear falls from your eye. “You lied to us, deceived us all. Celebrimbor most. And now you think I'll just give myself to you like that?” you ask, finally managing to look him in the eyes.

“You will. You’ll have no other choice.”

With these words, the illusion vanishes and you are standing in the destroyed forge again.

Celebrimbor is gone and only Sauron stands in front of you. His gaze is on you as he holds out his hand.

“Come with me. There is nothing, that keeps you here anymore. Come with me and I promise, I will protect you. Come with me and we build a real dynasty together.”

His lips did not move, but the words inside your head still sound like a promise.

And no matter how hard you try to resist, you make a step towards him, taking his hand, leaving everything behind what you truly believed in.

2024 | notreallythatlost

dress

halbrand/sauron x fem!human!reader

summary: it’s your last evening in númenor and you decide to wear a special outfit for the man you love.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, acting silly because of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1.4k

author’s note: well, do i have to say anything more about this? no. 🙂‍↕️ inspired by taylor swift’s song dress (one of my faves.) this is my first time writing smut, so i really hope it turned out well. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. xx

It wasn't your intention to draw everyone's attention when you appear. You only wanted the attention of one person.

And you can feel his gaze on you, so hot that it literally burns your skin, but you don't let it show.

The dark red dress clings to your body and sparkles silver in the light of the fire. Your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders and you know that everyone would fall to their knees at the sight.

But you only want to see him kneeling in front of you. With his hands and lips on your naked skin.

After a brief moment of silence, conversations start again and you slowly turn around, only to meet Halbrand's gaze, who is standing next to Galadriel a few meters away from you.

You know the effect you have on him, you can see it in his eyes even from the distance.

“This time you really surpassed yourself,” a voice sounds next to you and you tear your gaze away from Halbrand.

Smiling, you take the mug filled with ale, that Isildur holds out to you and take a sip.

“Someone told me to come out of my shell,” you reply and you both laugh.

“Since when have you been listening to my advice?” he asks, still with a smile on his lips.

You just shrug at his words and look at him with a grin as he puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the others.

The evening continues and you have stopped counting how many mugs of ale you have already had. You are just about to take another sip when someone takes the mug out of your hand.

“Hey...” you protest and look up at Halbrand, who is now holding your wrist. “That was definitely enough ale for today,” he says as he pulls you to your feet.

You giggle softly and sway slightly against his firm body. “I won't let you boss me around, handsome,” you say and pat his chest before you try to pull away from him again, but he doesn't loosen his grip.

“Oh, yes. You will,” he whispers and a shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you like a wolf that has finally caught its prey.

Without another word, he pulls you with him, away from the drinking soldiers and to a place where you would be undisturbed.

Before you know it, he's pressed you against the nearest wall and buries his nose in your hair. His hands wrap around your waist, caressing your skin through the fabric of the dress.

“You have no idea, how much control this evening has cost me. I wanted you the second I saw you in that dress,” he growls, now tucking your hair behind your shoulder, to give himself access to your neck.

His lips brush the sensitive skin there, making you hum as you close your eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Halbrand whispers against your skin and you shiver, a reaction he’s only too happy to see.

“That was your intention, wasn't it? You wanted to drive me crazy?” he continues and gently bites your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“It's our last evening in Númenor, I thought a little distraction wouldn't hurt,” you whisper now, the effect of the ale suddenly replaced by the desire that shoots through your veins like fire.

The sound that comes from Halbrand is like that of an animal and he presses you a little harder against the wall.

“Did you see the looks they gave you?” he says close to your ear and lets his lips slide over your jaw. “Everyone wanted to rip that dress off your body.” With these words he lifts you up and turns with you.

Your lips meet in a wild, longing kiss, as if you were about to starve. You feel him take a few steps until your back hits wood. You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth and his grip on you tightens.

The kiss becomes wilder, your tongues in an endless dance for dominance.

A surprised sound comes from your lips as he takes your lower lip between his teeth and pulls on it.

Finally, he turns away from the wall again and gently lays you down on something soft moments later.

You are apparently in his room. You don't know how you got here and you don't care, because all that matters to you at this moment, is Halbrand leaning over you.

“The only reason I'm wearing this dress is so you can take it off,” you breathe and place your hand on his chest. But Halbrand wraps his fingers around your wrist again and looks you in the eyes with a mischievous smile, before he takes the other one and holds both of them above your head.

“Oh, my sweet little girl. We're not there yet,” he whispers and starts to push the skirt of your dress up with his free hand.

Your breath catches and you try to turn your hands out of his grasp, but he holds them too tightly.

“Halbr-,” your words are cut off by a moan as he runs a finger through your wetness. Another growl escapes him and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek so that you feel the scratch of his stubble on your skin.

Without further warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you moan loudly. He doesn't seem to want to make any secret of what's going on, just encourage you.

“Let me hear you,” he whispers, moving his fingers until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

Then he releases his grip on your hands and slides down your body. Knowing what would follow, you bury your fingers in his long hair and close your eyes.

As his tongue slides through your folds, you moan and your hips jerk forward. Halbrand grabs you with his hands and holds you tight, so you can't move while he eats you out.

You long for release, you can hardly think straight anymore, but he doesn't seem to want to give it to you.

Just as you wanted to tease him with this dress, now this is him paying you back.

“Halbrand...” you moan his name loudly and he raises his head, leaving your throbbing cunt full of desire.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice sounds and you hear the rustling of fabric. “Tell me what you long for,” he continues and you sit up slightly.

“I want you,” you whisper, with all the strength you have left. Then Halbrand holds out his hand to help you up. His fingers immediately find the back of the dress, where he quickly unties the laces. As soon as the fabric loosens around your body, he pushes it over your shoulders, until it slides down of its own and reveals you to his gaze.

“You are…” he doesn't say anything else, just stares at you in awe as he pushes you back again and you look up at him.

His hand finds yours on the mattress and he laces his fingers with yours. With his other hand, he positions himself in front of you and slides the tip of his cock over your entrance.

With one fluid movement, he sinks into you and you can't help but let out a breathless gasp. The air leaves your lungs and you feel Halbrands' hand resting on the side of your face.

“You belong to me. Don't forget that,” he says with such devotion and yet so firm that your heart clenches in your chest.

“Forever,” you reply breathlessly as he starts to move. The feeling makes you moan and your eyes roll back as you arch towards him.

“Fuck,” he moans and lets his head fall forward. In this moment, there is only him and you and nothing could ever come between you.

Halbrand starts to move faster, hitting a spot that makes you moan whenever he moves his hips. It doesn't take long before you're screaming his name as the orgasm flows through your body like a wave.

The sight of you must have been enough for him, because not a second later he empties himself into you with a rough gasp and then sinks down on you.

“You're perfect,” you hear his voice between bliss and satisfaction and smile weakly.

You want to say something else, but you're too tired.

But you got what you longed for.

It was your last day on Númenor, after all. Soon you would be going to war.

2024 | notreallythatlost

well, i would let myself ruin by him everytime 🤭 i just love this and your writing wow. i would be so happy if you continue. i can’t wait for more

And Comes Dawn.

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.

Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.

The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.

He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.

"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."

You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.

He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."

"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.

"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.

"And what do you hope for in times like this?"

"A new start. A place to start fresh..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"

"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.

He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.

"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."

"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.

"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."

"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."

“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.

"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."

"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"

He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.

Everyone had darkness.

His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.

This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.

He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.

And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.

oh my god, i love it 😫 her reaction to who he is, is just priceless – and yeah, i think i would accept it as same as the reader, i mean who could resist him?? 🤭

Decision (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead

Warning: angst, implied smut, reader isn’t plain evil but she’s not saying no to touching Sauron the darkness either

Note: sequel to Choice but what happens there is explained here too

If you still had doubts before, now you’re absolutely certain. Halbrand has been avoiding you on purpose ever since you’ve reached Eregion and his lance wound has been healed.

Your pride would like you to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, but you cannot deny the pang in your chest each time you catch his eye only for him to look away. Or when, on the rare occasion that you do speak these days, he finds a way to cut the conversation short. But what hurts the most is that you are unable to discern the reason why.

Sometimes, you remember the night of passion you had shared in Númenor, trying to recall if there had been any misinterpretation on your part. You had met him in the smithy after he had refused Galadriel’s request to follow you to Middle-Earth and claim the title she believed was his as king of the Southlanders. You had told him his past deeds were of no consequence to you, that you believed he was worthy of leading regardless of whether or not it was his birthright. He had asked you, repeatedly, whether you were certain you could disregard his past as he had made his desire for you known.

And you had returned it. You’d had your fill of one another right there, on a table, utterly unable to restrain yourselves until you might have reached a more appropriate place for such activities. To say it was pleasurable would be an understatement. What Halbrand lacked in familiarity of your body, he made up in enthusiasm for discovering it, and becoming acquainted with his had been equally delightful for you. There had been no grand declaration of love, no spoken promises—but there had been unmistakable sentiment shared between you, during the deed as well as after. You had gently aided one another in redressing yourselves, and parted with a lingering kiss and a cheeky grin fron him whose memory still makes your heart flutter.

The following morning, you had sailed for Middle-Earth. Whether because of you or not, Halbrand had decided to make the journey after all, and that was all that mattered. And while your accommodations on the ship hardly allowed for privacy, you sought each other out more often than before, and spoke more freely. Although you shared few kisses, only in brief moments when you were away from prying eyes, and his past still remained much of a mystery to you, you figured it was simply not the right time or place for anything further.

The battlefield in the Southlands was even less ideal. The chaos unfolded quickly, a great eruption separated you, and you were only reunited with Halbrand at the survivors’ camp, where you’d found him wounded half to death by an enemy lance.

You had kissed him, then—when you were left alone in his tent, awaiting Galadriel to bring the horses that would take the three of you to Eregion, where his wound may be mended. You had found yourself pressing your lips to his with a different kind of urgency than before, struck by such powerful relief tears slipped from your eyes and fell onto his cheek as you pulled away.

“I thought you were dead,” you had whispered in anguish.

“I’ve been worse,” he had quipped, as if it were some kind of game. But this time, you had no witty comeback in return.

“No, Halbrand, I...” you’d said gravely, caressing his sweat-slicked cheek. “I realized, if that were the case... there were things I should have said to you—”

“Please,” he’d cut you off then, gently but decidedly pulling your hand away from his face. “Not yet.”

You had frowned, more than a little hurt by his dismissal, but didn’t insist. He was in a great deal of pain, and too exhausted to handle such a heavy conversation. You could understand that.

But once his wound had been healed, he only seemed less inclined to speak with you. In Eregion, there had been many occasions when he might have sought you out, visited your chamber. You could have, of course, visited his, but the few and brief interactions between you didn’t exactly encourage you to do so. He had begun to work with Celebrimbor, and whatever little time remained after their long hours together, he hardly ever chose to spend with you. You could tell he was in his element by Celebrimbor’s side, his eyes brightening beautifully with each new idea and small progress, yet a shadow passed over them when they met yours from across the forge room.

A week passed like this, then two—and you were beginning to question whether the thread of fate you’d once felt connecting you to him had been only a figment of your imagination after all.

It hurts. You do your best not to feel it. You know the few matches attempted between Elves and humans ended in loss and tragedy, but not from lack of care on the part of the lovers. If that is what you and Halbrand ever were.

Perhaps it is your pride that prevents you from confronting him yourself, or from revealing what is ailing you to anyone at all. On the few times Galadriel has attempted to broach the subject, you had insisted that there was nothing to discuss. Though with a look that told you she knew better, she had left you in peace. So, when a knock comes at the door of your chamber one late evening, you suspect it is her on the other side.

With a sigh, you go to greet her, but begin to speak even before the door is fully opened.

“Galadriel, I am quite tired—”

The words die in your throat—for it isn’t Galadriel at your door. It’s Halbrand.

“Might we speak?” he asks. As if it were perfectly natural. As if he has every right to be here. The first few days in Eregion, you would have been more than glad to receive him, had stared at door in anticipation of his visit, even. Now, your heart twists in your chest with rage, even as it aches at the sight of him.

“You avoid me like the plague for days on end,” you say harshly, “and now you wish to be allowed into my personal chamber at this late hour?”

He crosses his arms, nowhere near as repentant as he should be looking. In fact, a light smirk tugs at his mouth. “Surely my boldness does not come as a surprise to you.”

“Your boldness? No,” you retort. “Your lack of honor, however—that is both surprising and irritating. Not to mention disappointing. Should I continue?”

He sighs then, and uncrosses his arms to lean one hand against the doorframe, finally having the decency to look somewhat awkward as he surmises, “You are cross with me.”

“Do I not have cause to be?” You glance down the corridor to find it empty, but still lower your voice. “You bedded me—”

“It was a table, as I recall—”

“And now you mock me.”

You go to slam the door in his face.

“That was not my—” He hastily grabs the door, holding it open. “All right,” he relents, raising a hand in surrender. “All right. Forgive me.” This time, he is perfectly serious. You contemplate locking him out either way, but in the end resolve to make that decision based on what next comes out of his mouth. “I bedded you,” he admits, taking care to lower his voice as well, “then allowed acts of affection to pass between us, such as those between lovers. Yet my intentions went undeclared, and of late I have acted as though none of that ever happened. Indeed, I have not behaved as a... man of honor should. For that, I apologize. Truly.”

His gaze never leaves yours as he says it. There is no teasing lilt to his voice, no trace of playfulness or misdirection. If you are being honest with yourself, you believe him.

There is a part of you that still wants to give him a taste of his own medicine, turn him away at the moment he most wishes to be able to speak with you. But that would mean denying yourself the answers as well. So, with a sigh, you step out of the way in silent invitation. He gives you a slight, grateful smile as he takes it.

“I know what you did, Halbrand,” you say, shutting the door behind him once he is inside your chamber. “What I wish to know is why.”

“And I did wish to tell you,” he reassures you. “Only...”

It’s you who crosses your arms now, looking at him expectantly.

“It was for your sake that I have refrained from any further... closeness between us,” he goes on, somewhat hesitant. “I felt it would be unfair to receive your sincere confession when I was yet unable to make mine.”

“And why were you unable, pray tell?” you ask, skeptical. “Why is it now that you seek me out?”

When he next speaks, his voice is laced with frustration, as though it is only now seeping through after simmering for too long within him.

“Because with each glance cast my way, you have stripped me of the patience to deny us both of what we desire any longer, despite my reasons for doing so.” He steps closer to you, looking into your eyes intently. “You see, before I asked even more of you than what you had already granted me, I meant to prove myself to you. To show you, beyond doubt, that the purpose of my craft is not one of destruction, but of healing.”

“Speak plainly, Halbrand,” you urge impatiently. You cannot fathom where this train of thought leads. He takes a breath as though to make a grand confession, but what he says is, vexingly, nothing you haven’t heard before.

“I am not a king—”

“I told you, I don’t care—”

“...or a mortal,” he finishes.

That does work to silence you. Your brow knits, silently questioning what in the world he means by that. A grimness lurks in his eyes as he speaks, each word measured and heavy.

“I have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence. In that time, I’ve had many names.” After a pause, he adds with finality, “I am the one you call Sauron.”

You search his face for any sign that he is jesting. Lying. There is none. The silence stretches as his words sink in, and you finally understand what is happening.

Then, you do the only thing there is to do in such a predicament.

You laugh. Hand covering your mouth, belly shaking, you laugh in the face of Halbrand’s furrowed brow at your reaction.

“Oh, that is... pathetic. Truly,” you say as your mirthless laughter dies down, leaving behind nothing but the burning indignation in your chest. “I might have thought you brazen or uncouth, at times, but I never once took you for a coward, Halbrand. If all you wanted was a quick tumble in the sheets—or, to be accurate as you prefer, on a table—and nothing more, you can simply say you wish for me to leave you alone, instead of conjuring such a ridiculous excuse—”

He’s gone. Everything is gone—as if between blinks, you are no longer standing in your chamber, but in a different room altogether. Your mind is slow to catch up as panic grips you, eyes darting around your new surroundings. It’s a place you know well, one that has been at the forefront of your mind of late.

You are standing in the smithy in Númenor.

“I am no slave to such base urges,” Halbrand says, and you whip around, startled to find that he is suddenly beside you, drinking you in with his gaze in the very same hungered manner he had done the last time you were here. “If I feel desire, carnal or otherwise, it is because the object of it has truly, undeniably captivated me. So do not insult the intimacy we shared in this place by assuming it held no greater meaning.”

“End this,” you breathe out, too shaken to process his words. “End this, now!” you cry out.

He clenches his jaw, displeased—but in the next heartbeat, you are back in your chamber.

Your hand flies to your heaving chest as if that would tame your rampant heart. It’s as though you never left, and in truth, you suppose you didn’t. Halbrand is still standing before you.

But he is not Halbrand anymore. He never was.

“You...” you say, voice trembling as you stagger back until you bump into your writing table. The swirl of emotions within you is too great for you to even know where to begin. Your face twists in rage, even as your heart crumbles in pain. “You lied to me—”

“Lied to you? Not once,” Halbrand says in earnest, coming towards you with slow, careful steps. “I called myself a new name, that much is true, but I have had so many, given by others—why should one I give myself be of any less value?” You shake your head, open your mouth, but no words come out. You are glued on the spot, leaning back against the table for support as he stops at a reasonable distance, close enough to touch if you reach out but far enough that he is not crowding you.

“I told you I had done evil,” he goes on. “I asked you, over and over, whether you would have me regardless of the past, whatever that may be...” He brings a hand to his heart as he steps ever so slightly closer. “...and you accepted me as I was. As I am.”

He wears a soft smile as he says it, as if in awe that such a thing was true. And in truth... it is. You remember exactly what you had thought at the time. You knew he had suffered through a war, that the ‘evil’ of which he spoke must have meant some kind of death or betrayal. But over the years, through all the battles and the horrors you had endured yourself, those sins were part of your past as well. You wanted to believe they could be forgiven, that they had not been for nothing—and so you had forgiven his.

But you’d never imagined... You’d never suspected...

“Why me, then?” you ask quietly. In the end, those are the only words you find within yourself.

“Galadriel only asked me to fight at her side because she convinced herself I was the true king of the Southlands. But you...” Halbrand says, and you can tell when he means to reach out and touch you, but restrains himself. “You encouraged me to fulfill that role not because you believed it to be my birthright, but because you believed I was worthy of it, even if a lie was needed to unite the Southlanders. Because you know that what is right is not always what is considered good. Where others see black and white, you see the grey, and embrace it. There is light in you as well as darkness. Balance. That is what I seek for Middle-Earth as well. Harmony, perfection... lasting peace.”

You eye him warily. His words ring true within you, they resonate with parts of you which you rarely let show. Whether or not he means it when he says he wants peace, of one thing you are certain—he sees you.

“What you are crafting with Celebrimbor,” you ask, unable to withhold the curiosity he has sparked within you. “It’s meant to accomplish that? Peace?”

“It will,” he vows. But then his gaze shifts, uncertain. “Unless Celebrimbor learns of my identity, and refuses to proceed.”

“He surely would,” you agree wryly. “He would sooner let all of Elvendome abandon these shores forever than carry out the design of... one such as you.” You find yourself hesitating to call him by the name your people have given him. Somehow, despite everything, ‘the abhorred’ does not easily roll off your tongue when you look at him.

“That is why I meant to wait until the work was complete to reveal the truth to you, or to anyone else,” Halbrand confesses further. “But perhaps this is how I regain your trust—by leaving the fate of your own people in your hands, rather than decide it myself.”

His searing gaze, his words, the truth of what he is—it’s so much to take in all at once. You turn your back towards him, leaning against the table as you shut your eyes briefly so you can think.

“You would have me become a deceiver,” you say, staring outside your window at the lights of Eregion, “for the good of my people?”

There is a small silence, broken only by the sound of Halbrand’s soft steps towards you.

“The same as you once asked of me,” he reminds you. You feel how much closer he has come, enough that you feel the heat of his breath on your neck, yet you don’t feel compelled to move away. “The middle path between light and dark.” His fingers brush one of yours wrists, grazing your skin without wrapping around it. “I chose it,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Will you?”

Your gaze drifts to where he is touching you, and you remain staring as your heart rages in your chest.

The part of you that knows what is moral and good tells you to turn and run. To warn all Elves who cross your path that they have been deceived, that a great foe has been living amongst them in fair form, carrying out his plans unhindered.

But are those plans evil indeed, if they are meant to preserve the very light of the Elves? They would not even stop to consider such a question. His name alone would be too great a threat. It should, by all means, threaten you as well.

Yet his touch at your wrist does not feel threatening. Nor does his breath falling softly on the back of your neck. You’ve felt him close before in body as well as spirit, in ways that went beyond the words spoken or not between you, and you had never once sensed wrongness. Only a perfect, most fulfilling fit.

“If I do...” you ask quietly, feeling as though your world is tilting on its axis, “what happens then?”

He closes the last of the distance between you, and your eyes flutter shut as you allow him to press his front to your back. You hear his smile in his voice as he murmurs in your ear, “We end all wars.” The hand on your wrist slips downward to lace your fingers together, the other coming to rest on your waist. “We bring balance.” His lips brush your neck, and you tilt your head to grant him better access. “We heal Middle-Earth,” he vows as you shudder. “Together.”

His arm is coiling around your stomach, then, aiming to pull you more tightly against him—but you take a breath and turn around sharply to face him. There is desire in his eyes, the same kind that thrums beneath your skin. Still, you plant a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. Or to touch him. Both.

“You deceived me,” you say firmly. Regardless of what happens next, that is a grievance you still carry.

“I know,” Halbrand admits. “And I intend to make it up to you. Starting now...” His gaze drifts to your lips, voice lowering to a suggestive whisper, “...if you would allow it.”

You don’t think. You’ve done enough of that in your long life. It may be madness, but one thing is certain—for once, you decide to act upon what you feel.

So, you fist your hand in his shirt and pull him into a kiss, moaning softly as he grabs your waist to press you flush against him. You feel his deep satisfaction, mingled with relief in the way he greedily tastes your mouth once more. You only now realize how subdued his kisses after your night in the smithy had been. He has held himself back from you so as not to deceive you further, confessed his identity of his own free will. That counts for something, doesn’t it?

You’d like to think so, at the very least, as you swallow the groan he makes into your mouth. He hoists you up onto your table, and it feels as though you are back in the smithy again—not within an illusion this time, but in the urgency and abandon of your embrace, in the way you wrap your legs around him and the fervent sounds of desire you pant out into each other’s mouths.

It’s almost the same, but everything has changed.

“This is not an answer,” you breathe out as his lips release yours, only to trail a line of bone-melting kisses down your neck. Your words, however determined you mean for them to sound, are but a soft moan as you sink your fingers in his hair and hold him to you. “I am only... exploring my options.”

He hums, understanding but not entirely pleased—perhaps that is why he briefly catches the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth, drawing a whimper from you with the pleasurable sting. When he lifts his head to meet your gaze, however, he seems anything but discouraged.

“Well, since tables are a trodden path...” he says, lips ghosting over yours, “let us explore the bed this time.”

Worrying less about what is good, and choosing what feels right, you make no protest as he carries you into that particular uncharted territory.

oh, how obsessed i am with his hair bow (and this fic wow). alone the thought of the reader being the reason he wears it makes me kick my feet 🤭🤭

A true gift (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you share a private moment with your husband, then add a special little detail to his new look

Warnings: evil!reader, nudity, mentions of smut, but really this is just a silly fluff piece written ‘cause I’m obsessed with his little hair bow🤭

Note: set in 2x06, part of the evil!reader collection - all you need to know for this one is that reader has been married to Sauron since before Adar killed him and infiltrated herself in Eregion as a smith while she waited for his return.

Your husband is a Maia, and as such never sleeps. He does, however, feel inclined to lie down with his eyes closed and be lost to the world, in moments such as now—when he is held in your peaceful embrace, your fingers lovingly stroking his loose hair.

It’s a rare moment of intimacy these days, and you cherish it all the more for it. Celebrimbor rarely allows you a moment of respite in his rush to finish the Nine, and you and your husband do your best to not disappear at the same time, so as to avoid suspicions that you share any deeper of a relationship with him than the other smiths of Eregion. Needless to say, you are overjoyed to find yourself alone with him. And in a bed, no less.

He had slipped inside your chamber under the cover of night, and sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind as you and your husband had sated your longing over and again. Naked and spent, you had pulled each other close, and so you still are now, as soft morning light pours through your window. He has coiled himself around your completely, one leg draped across your waist and his head resting upon your chest, and you do not mind his weight above you in the slightest as you hold him close. His hair is wonderfully soft under your roaming fingertips, his skin delights yours everywhere you touch.

He may not need sleep, but you would gladly drift into it. In a blissful position such as this, you would drift gladly even into death.

But you do neither, for he stirs, wishing to lift his head. You know what he means to say—that your absence will soon be noticed now that the day has begun, that you ought to return to the forge and to your plans and to your charade. You tighten your hold on him and keep his head against your chest, giving a stubborn groan.

His low chuckle reverberates into your skin.

“I know. I know,” he coos, shifting to press his lips to your heart. “I have no wish to leave.”

“But you will,” you sigh in defeat, even as he trails lazy kisses up along your clavicle. “We must.”

He hums, nuzzling your neck. Too much of you is pressed against too much of him for desire not to ignite within you at the slightest movement. It’s a bittersweet relief when he presses one last, lingering kiss to your lips and takes it upon himself to pry his body away from yours and leave the bed. You turn to your side, pulling the covers up to your chest to ward off the cold he leaves behind.

You are, however, presented with the slight consolation of watching your husband move naked about the room.

Of course, it isn’t exactly the particular image of your husband’s body, or even the features of his face that had won your affections in the first place. Your love runs too deep to be dampened by any sort of aesthetic transformation, though you do admit some forms are more practical than others when it comes to the physical aspect of your relationship, strictly shape-wise (one such as the amorphous black mass to which he had been reduced until recently, for instance, might prove a challenge in that department—yet not an entirely insurmountable one).

His current form, however... Lord of Gifts, indeed. It is the finest of male specimens of whom you are given a most generous view, and he damn well knows it. He takes his sweet time sauntering across the room, each movement slow and deliberate as he treats you to the sight of his tall, perfectly sculpted body. His long hair falling over his shoulder blades, the elegant line of his spine, the plump globes of his buttocks—oh, the bastard. Showing himself off as if you are not in a state of constant desire for him, like you’re not literally his soulbound wife already.

Or maybe it’s you slowing time with your eyes as you look at him, precisely because of how utterly and hopelessly smitten you are.

Whatever the case, a knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he glances your way. You look on, shamelessly, as he recovers the clothes he had carelessly discarded the night before, and methodically (as well as tragically) begins to dress himself back to decency. He’d had a new garment made, one more suited to his tastes now that his previous modest, light-grey robes had served their purpose of conveying his most pure intentions to Celebrimbor. This outfit is an intricately patterned black with a golden band at the waist, the imitation of leaves raining down his collar area and left shoulder, and a discrete glimmer that looks as though stars have been trapped deep within the fabric of his sleeves.

You’d loved the sight of him dressed in it so much that, paradoxically, you had taken tremendous pleasure in stripping it off him. He was a gift in too pretty a wrapping for you not to greedily reach inside for the wonders you knew lay there, meant only for you.

But if you had it your way and peeled it off each time the mood arose, you would never get anything done. Perhaps, once you are King and Queen and have plenty of servants to carry out your orders, you shall be free to confine yourselves to some ornate bedchamber and reemerge only after days on end of having your fill of one another.

For now, you must allow his newly tidy appearance to remain intact. He is nearly ready to join the others in the forge, the only unruliness left about him being his loose and disheveled hair. You particularly enjoy how softly it falls upon your shoulders whilst you are beneath him, and he certainly takes pleasure in your tendency to fist your hands in it and tug at the roots, causing all kinds of entanglements. It’s nearly sad, how easily he can undo the sensual mess. One power-wielding hand smoothing down the tresses, and his hair looks as though it has been brushed to perfection with a thousand thoroughly administered strokes.

That done, he sits down at your vanity and picks up the last accessory he must arrange upon himself—the headpiece he’s been wearing since he became Annatar, the partial imitation of a crown which curves around the back of his head, serving to hold his hair practically away from his face whilst accentuating the divine nature of the presumed Lord of Gifts.

Lord of Gifts.

Your love-addled brain is stricken with an idea too wonderful to go unheeded.

“Oh, let me,” you say, suddenly rising from beneath the sheets. It takes but a moment to put on a nearby nightgown, not nearly enough for your husband’s questioning eyes to drink you in the way he attempts to, but you are too enthusiastic to care. It is best anyway not to let his gaze set your skin ablaze when you must wait for the following night to have him tend to the flames.

His brow knits in slight amusement, but he indulges you and halts in his movements, waiting for you to come to him. He must think you mean to arrange the headpiece in his hair yourself—thus stealing another few touches before you leave the bedchamber and must refrain from doing so for the remainder of the day. And he is not too far from the truth. But as soon as you are standing behind him, you take the accessory from his hand and toss it casually upon the bed, reaching for your comb on the vanity table instead. Now, your husband frowns, unsure.

“My love, as much as I would like an excuse to prolong our stay—”

“Oh, shush,” you chide. “This will take but a moment.”

With nimble fingers and the help of the comb, you part his hair at the temples and brush it into satisfyingly neat sections. It’s an improvisation, really, but you set about the task you have in mind with nothing but determination and a nice little hum on your breath. Your husband sits with the sort of quiet compliance he reserves for your benefit only, and you know that he is relishing the sensation of your fingers gently handling his hair as much as you are. At times your fingers more or less coincidentally brush over the pointed tips of his ears, and the lightest flutter of his lashes betrays how sensitive they are to the touch, the very same as those of any Elf.

You catch his gaze in the mirror, and give him a playful smile as you work on his hair. The vision you had in mind is beginning to take nice shape, and you bite your lip in concentration as you try to guide each golden strand precisely where you need it to be.

“Pass me that hair tie, will you?” It’s a bit further away on the vanity table than the previous ones you had used, and you are busy keeping together quite the intricate design. Your husband obliges you—but his hand catches yours as you take the tie from him.

“My love,” he says, mirth dancing in his eyes in the mirror, “I do hope you have not managed a knot so vicious that even my power cannot see it undone.”

“It isn’t a knot,” you retort, lightly swatting his hand away from yours so you can finish what you started. You shake your head in faux disappointment. “How little you trust me.”

“I trust you with life, my flesh and my soul,” he declares solemnly. “My hair, however, is a different matter.”

That would earn him another scandalized swat, if your hands weren’t occupied with the finishing touches to your little masterpiece.

“There,” you grin triumphantly, at last satisfied with what you have accomplished. It’s almost ridiculous, the youthful delight that takes over you. An echo from a distant life that was so long ago, it barely feels like it was ever yours. It brings a small pang to your chest—but you ignore it as you cradle your husband’s head from behind and place an adoring little kiss to his hair, right above your handy work.

With a small, not unkind sigh, he picks up a hand mirror from the table and turns around on his stool so he may align the reflection with the one in the vanity mirror, see for himself what you have accomplished:

An utterly precious, superbly elegant hair bow.

“A true gift,” you say proudly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “for all of Middle-Earth.” Your fingers drift to his chin, and nudge it upward so he meets your gaze. “But for me, especially.”

Without looking away, he sets down the hand mirror and takes your wrist, planting a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“It is fitting,” he admits, a teasing lilt to his tons as he idly plays with your fingers. “It shall be a pity, when I next bed you, to see such beautiful work unraveled by the very hands which crafted it.”

“Oh, I am not ruining that,” you assure him, striving to sound like you mean it. “Whatever you may do, I shall keep my hands firmly to myself. Or rather, to other parts of you,” you add, shrugging as if in afterthought.

The underlying challenge in your voice is swiftly accepted. Your husband stands and faces you with a mischievous gaze, cupping your cheeks.

“We shall see,” he murmurs against your lips, right before he claims them in a parting kiss filled with lurid promises. Then he pulls away, smiling innocently. “See you soon, my love.”

You are reminded, as he leaves, how futile it is to pretend like you may ever part without your body and soul aching for his return before he even steps out of your sight. But all eyes which look upon him today shall see the work of your loving fingers that he proudly wears upon himself—another small consolation to which you cling whilst you wait for the victory that shall make all your sufferings worth it.

Previous fic with same reader -> As one

Next fic with same reader -> Jealousy

well, this gets more and more interesting 🙂‍↔️

And Comes Dawn pt iv

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader

Summary: truths are revealed.

Warings: talk of mass murder, mentions of death, family loss, angst, reader gets angry a little bit, flashbacks, I'm sure yall will have more questions

Notes: this part is kinda short. I'm not super fond of it. I don't think I got galadriel down. Idk Idk I just think it doesn't read all that great. Feedback is appreciated. I love yall honestly.

He could feel the beast approaching before he saw the masts in the fog. The impending doom of everyone on board this raft was minutes away and the elf set his plans aflame with 4 words.

“I know your face.”

Her words and the look on your face as she spoke them played over and over on an endless loop. He could not figure out what you could possibly have done to gain the elves' attention. You stood there still, looking as if you wanted the sea to swallow you whole.

“Look! There's a ship.” Someone called. Everyone looked toward the horizon, but he slowly made his way towards you. He couldn't let you die, even though it was the sole reason he'd called the beast here. Perhaps he'd never be able to do it either way, but he knew now that your death wasn't an option.

There was a small back and forth, was it a corsair ship or was it help? It didn't take long before he hear your voice whisper the truth.

“That's our ship.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, did screaming and panic set in amongst the ship inhabitants, one even pushing the elf overboard. He could see the fear on face, feel it emanating off of you. Your arms wrapped around your body and eyes clamped closed. His attempts to block you from his mind had made you feel alone. He could see that much. He knew in that instance he'd never be able to leave you to die.

“Sweet one,” He reaches for you, gently holding your face in his hands and making you look at him. Those eyes. What was happening to him? “Look at me.sweet one, I will die before I allow any harm to come to you. Do you understand? Stay by side.” He searched your eyes to make sure you understood. The way you fear disappeared under his gaze, and the little nod to your head was stirring something, a warmth, deep within him. If he reached back to distant memories within his mind, the feeling wasn't unfamiliar, and he'd once been filled with it.

It was unwelcome now, though, and he wouldn't allow himself to name the feeling. He banished it from his thoughts as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. This was nothing more than a deception to sate his growing curiosity and nothing more. He removed his hands from your face, and you instantly held on to his wrist, keeping him anchored to your side. He could feel your pulse quicken as the beast swam under the raft and again when it pushed its body into it.

“This way, sweet one.” He called over the sound of wood breaking and screams, the waves crashing. His fingers tangled with yours as he was all but dragged along with him. Quickly, he had untied a small portion of the raft, pushing it so you were out to safety.

“We can't leave her out there,” you motioned towards the elf, swimming away from the calamity.

He had no intentions of leaving her for a multitude of reasons, but it was interesting that you wanted to save her. She obviously knew something about you that you didn't want known, and it would all go away if you let the elf drown.

But you didn't want that to happen.

Of course you didn't.

He wouldn't be in this mess if you were that easy to read.

~

You sat back against one of the spikes, the raft causing your body to rock to and fro. You didn't look at Halbrand, nor at the elf - whose name you'd learned was Galadriel. You simply looked out at the waves, memories that you struggled to forget playing over and over in your mind.

“Up, up little one,” a deep voice laughed, picking you up and standing you on the table. Your father rested his forehead against yours, and you giggled. The music from the festival was loud outside the doors to your small home but Mama had said you couldn't go due to your fever. You needed rest, she had told you and your father repeatedly, but your Papa ignored her.

His hands clasped your face, “Perhaps we cannot dance out there, but we will in here.” A kiss pressed to your nose as he lifted you in his arms and danced throughout the living area as your body shook with laughter.

You were pulled from your memory by Halbrands voice, “You needn't keep your distance.”

“I am not keeping my distance. I am simply wondering what manner of man would leave his companions to die,” the elf replied back, eyes not looking at him nor attention away from her task.

“One who knows how to survive.”

Those words tore you back into your memories.

“If you do not do this, you will never know how to survive.” Your brother towered over you with his arms crossed, looking at you expectantly. He was 11 years older than you, and he tried to parent you often.

“Papa says I'm only 6, and I needn't worry about that yet.” You responded by pushing your plate away and crossing your arms, staring up at him with a firey defiance.

“You must always be ready for….”

“For what, boy?,” your uncle interjected, “ I heard no marching of armies? No horns blaring. I simply see a young girl who wishes not to eat the radishes your mother made for dinner. It is hardly a matter of life and death.”

Your brother sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms. He had the best intentions, he truly did. He simply wants what was best for you, wants you to be healthy and strong and not have a hunger in your belly.

Halbrand and the elf continued their bickering as your mind swarmed with the happy memories you had of your family. Your mama helping you make your first pie, which your father ate in its entirety though you suspect it was hornedesly inedible. Your father's deep voice as he'd sing, sometimes rocking you to sleep or dancing with you through the house, it was your favorite song. Sitting atop your uncle's shoulders as he walked along the path to the village. Your brother's jokes and how he'd always sneak you an extra serving of cake.

Your family had been happy, your home full of laughter and light. Your parents had adored each other, and the love they had was the envy of all young girls searching for true love. He brought her flowers and danced with her even when there was no music. You loved your life, and you had taken that happiness for granted. It all came crashing down when your mother caught a fever and nothing could break it. Those were memories you refused to wallow in or entertain. They were locked away so far in the back of your mind that it would break your very being to bring them out now.

“I have pursued this foe since before the first sunrise bloodied the sky,” you were pulled from your thoughts to the heated conversation between Galadriel and Halbrand. “It would take more than your lifetime to even speak the names of those they've taken from me.”

You scoffed. Your body filled with irritation as you shook your head, their heads snapped to your direction. You felt anger fill your veins as you remembered everything you had lost. Not just your family, but your village and all those who lived in it. “Our loss isn't less significant than yours simply because our lifetime is shorter.”

Galadriel appraised you for a moment, her anger written on her face. “You have grown into the spitting image of your brother. It is a coincidence, is it not, that orcs burned your village and a wyrm destroyed your ship and yet you live.”

Halbrand chuckled in disbelief, “What are you saying? That she, of all people, commands an orc army and controls a wyrm. What do you think she is?”

Galadriel never took her eyes off you, she spoke two words in elvish that had been haunting you for 15 years. Whispered behind your back anywhere you roamed.

“What does that mean?”

“Elf slayer,” you said quietly. “Your king himself said I am not the sins of my father. That I was a child. That I was to be unpunished.”

“It is still his blood that flows through your veins,” Galadriel spoke coldly, “Does your companion know that your father was an insane cultist? He has a right to know of whom he travels with.”

Halbrand looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, “What is she talking about?”

Your lip trembled, and you caught it in between your teeth. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, but your breath was still shaky. “My father, uncle, and brother butchered a small village of elves as they slept. They were caught and executed for their crimes.”

Halbrand looked speechless. He turned his attention back to Galadriel as if looking for more answers.

“It was a blood ritual with the hopes of bringing back the enemy,” Galadriel looked to him. “To use elvish blood to resurrect Sauron,” her eyes turned to look at you, her accusation clear in them.

“ I do not wish to bring evil upon this world. I do not wish to subjugate my people's under the will of a tyrant. I have done nothing with my life besides try and repent for the atrocities committed by my family. For you to stand in accusation of me when your people, when your king, absolved me of any guilt. If you recall correctly, I was merely 8 and asleep in my bed when it happened.”

Galadriel opened her mouth in retort but closed it quickly as thunder cracked and storm clouds formed in the sky. This conversation wasn't over but there were more pressing matters at hand now.

i bleed the same

annatar/sauron x fem!elf!reader

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, angst, unprotected sex, biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 the song inspired for this part is better by syml. i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

part 1

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 | notreallythatlost