Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile. The precious moments are all lost in the tide. They're swept away and nothing is what it seems. The feeling of belonging to your dreams.

Halbrand made his way down the familiar path through the forest, his long-awaited destination growing closer. Each step felt heavier than the last, not from fatigue but from the weight of longing that had settled in his chest during the long months of war. He could almost hear her laughter, the way it danced through the air like a melody, bringing warmth to his heart. It had been months since the battle had been won, but Halbrand’s conscience led him astray only for a little while to help aid the poor by stealing from the rich. Gathering a following of loyal common folk, Halbrand earned a new name, ‘Robin Hood’. He had taken to helping the poor, robbing from the rich as a way to cope with his own sorrow. But the name Robin Hood felt foreign on his tongue. All he wanted was to be Halbrand again—to be with Y/n.

In the light of positivity for his actions, Halbrand had also become a wanted man by the royals, and he had always managed to sneak away before being caught. Halbrand felt whole once again, his heart content that he was helping those who needed it. His unwavering loyalty to the humble and hard-working people served as an inspiration for those to stand up and fight for their freedom and rights. Robin Hood was more than just a thief; he was a hero—a beacon of hope.

Y/n had always adored that about him; he only imagined what she would think of him now that he was the infamous thief that everyone claimed him to be. He was still the same Halbrand she knew and loved, but he was different. The battle changed him; the scars he carries internally, as well as marks on his skin, serve as a reminder of his turmoils. Halbrand fought now not just for his king and kingdom but for his love. His Y/n. He fought valiantly, holding onto his promise that he would return to her and marry her. The fabled love story of Halbrand and Y/n reached all the kingdoms far and wide. They were each other’s true love, one another’s destiny. The gods had weaved them together. No one could break them apart, and it was said that not even death could part them. Halbrand’s murky ocean eyes shined, seeing the familiar cottage come into view. A heavy sigh left his lips, his feet carrying him faster; the cottage door opened as Halbrand paused. 

I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes. 

Y/n stepped out as she brushed her dress skirts before gazing up, her eyes wide, seeing Halbrand standing at her gate. “Y/n.” He called her name, his voice barely above a whisper. Y/n blinked, and for a moment, the world around them faded; only they existed. “Halbrand?” She breathed, disbelief etched across her features. Taking a few steps forward, Halbrand opened her gate, closing it behind him; he nodded “Y/n.” He repeated, stepping closer, longing to bridge the distance. “I’m home.” Y/n dropped her basket on the ground and ran to him, their arms wrapping around one another, their emotions overwhelming them, their sobs filling the chilled air. Y/n buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, the familiar smells of the forest embedded in his clothing and skin. “They told me you were dead. I mourned for you.” She sobbed. Halbrand cradled her face in his hand.

Listen to your heart. When he's calling for you. Listen to your heart. There's nothing else you can do.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He smiled, resting his head on hers, the steady beat of her heart syncing with his. “I will always come back to you. I promised you I would never break that promise.” Gazing into her eyes, his thumbs brushed the apple of her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered closed, welcoming his touch, the very touch she had thought she would never feel again. “I’m sorry. That I took so long to come back to you.” His voice cracked, the weight of his absence crashing over them both. “I was lost in the war, but I found my way back to you. The very thought of hearing your voice and coming back to your welcoming arms guided me home.” Y/n smiled through her tears, each cascading down her cheeks.

 Her light laughter made Halbrand’s heart skip a beat. “And you came back as… as this Robin Hood?” Her eyes furrowed with a mix of confusion and admiration. “Why?” She tilted her head, her fingers raking through his auburn locks. Halbrand sighed heavily, shaking his head. “To help those who needed it most. I couldn’t just stand by after all I’ve seen. It changed me. What I have seen, what I’ve done. I fear I’m not the same Halbrand as I was when I left you.” His gaze softened, pain flickering through his gaze Y/n’s heart clenched at his confession. “I do not care for what they say about Robin Hood. I love the man behind the name—the man who fights for those who cannot. Who aids those in need without question nor fear. If anything, it makes me love you even more so, you are not a thief. You are a good man with a pure heart. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐀𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝.” Y/n whispered. Her eyes glittered with love as Halbrand smiled, and a soft hum rumbled through his chest. “Well, in that case, if that is so, then it is worth noting that I still intend to marry you, Lady Y/n.” His smile widened as Y/n’s heart fluttered at his words; looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. Her nose caressed his as their lips grazed, the weight of anticipation and sexual tension lingering in the air. Halbrand leaned in closing the distance, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was tender at first, but soon grew fervent as they made up for lost time. “I missed you more than you can imagine.” He whispered against her lips. Halbrand’s hands swept down the sides of her body as they walked backwards. Y/n’s back hit the door as she unlatched the handle and pulled him toward him inside. As they entered the cottage, the familiar scent of lavender and honey enveloped them. Halbrand kicked the door shut with his foot, leaning back to lock it. “Halbrand, I—” Y/n began, but he silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, filled with the passion of longing and the desperation of their separation. Removing his cloak and shoes, Halbrand swept Y/n in his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Their laughter filled the room as Halbrand again kicked the door and closed, his lips finding her neck. Y/n tangled her fingers in his hair, letting her slip slightly Y/n gasped. Halbrand grinned, his hands roughly untying the laces of her corset at her front, and the top of her dress became loose. 

And there are voices. That want to be heard. So much to mention. But you can't find the words.

Standing her on her feet, Halbrand helped remove her dress, the fabric pooling at their feet. Her chemise was the only clothing barrier between her bare body and Halbrand’s eyes. Silence fell in the room, and the lovers were too entranced by each other’s presence to even care about the outside world. The room was dimly lit, creating a sanctuary just for them. Slowly moving her hands to his waist, Halbrand rested his head on Y/n’s as their gazes solely focused on one another; tugging the material, Halbrand stretched his arms up as Y/n pulled the clothing over his torso and his head. Halbrand threw the garment onto the floor, his body glowing under the fire’s flame, revealing the scars on his skin—reminders of the battles he had fought. Tracing each scar with her fingers, Y/n kissed each one, her hands working up his arms. Being away fighting, his body had grown more toned and well-built. His muscles flexed under her touch, echoing a comfortable acceptance.

“𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝…” Y/n murmured his name, her fingers finding his chest, weaving through the hair. Halbrand chuckled, his brow raised. “You cannot ever seem to be able to help yourself.” Y/n’s lashes fluttered, averting his gaze briefly before meeting his eyes again. “And you never make a move to stop me.” She answered. Halbrand brushed his fingers along her shoulder, moved to her chest, and tugged the laces playfully. “No, far be it for me to stop you from having some enjoyment.” Removing the laces of her chemise, the lightweight linen garment too, joined her dress on the floor. Halbrand leant in to kiss her cheek, trailing down to her neck, bending down to pick her up, and laying her on the bed. Halbrand pressed his body firmly to hers, their mouths finding one another in a passion-filled kiss. Working his way down her body, Halbrand decorated her skin with love bites, beginning at the column of her throat, his tongue darting out to lick a broad stripe, a sensation of shivers rippling through her body. Y/n sighed underneath, feeling his smirk on her skin, his attention now focused on her breasts. Lavishing each with undivided attention, alternating between kissing and massaging with his hands. The air thickened with unspoken desires. She leaned back against the bed, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and Halbrand felt a rush of heat surge through him. Admiring her, his hands ran over her body as he kissed her stomach, tongue tracing swirls moving down where she ached for him most.

“Halbrand.” She breathed, her voice a sultry whisper. Halbrand’s eyes darted up to look at her, their heated gaze growing dark with the building lust between them. “Show me you’re really here. Please.” Her hands reaching out for him, Halbrand grinned, nuzzling his face against her thigh. Halbrand’s heart raced, and the dull throbbing within his ribcage bled into his ears. He thoroughly explored her body with admiration, each touch igniting a fire within him that he had thought extinguished in battle. He wanted to worship every inch of her, to make her feel cherished. Far too long after being separated, he wanted to fall into her. To be consumed by her. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” He breathed, laying kisses along her thighs and behind her knees. Hands moving behind her and cupping her ass gently, bringing her closer to him. Y/n shivered; the mix of feeling vulnerable and desired under his gaze made her blush and hide with embarrassment. Halbrand parted her legs further as he laid himself in between. Halbrand's hands roamed whilst tracing the curves of her waist and the flare of her hips. With slow, deliberate movements, his fingers gently caressed her folds, her glistening arousal coating the tips of his fingers. "So wet, so ready for me." He winked Y/n’s hips bucked as his fingers found her core, stroking, circling, and plunging into her warmth. Y/n’s body jolted at the unfamiliar feeling but welcomed the pleasure that came from it. "Oh, yes, there, my love." Halbrand's lips found hers again, silencing her pleas with a deep and possessive kiss. While his fingers worked their magic, Y/n gripped his shoulder, her moans filling their kiss as Halbrand smirked, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy, before withdrawing, leaving her wanting more. Y/n whined softly at the loss of his fingers Halbrand rubbed her clit with his thumb. "Please, Halbrand, don't stop. Do not tease me." She begged, her voice hoarse with desire. "I won't, my love." He promised, his voice thick, dripping with liquid sex. 

His breath fanning her cheek as he whispered lowly in her ear. "But first, I must have my taste of you, to feel your pleasure, to watch you come undone with my tongue." A light growl emitted from his lips making Y/n moan. Halbrand swiftly moved between her legs, lowering his head between resting her legs over his shoulders. His tongue, skilled and gentle, glided along her folds, eliciting a moan that echoed through the room. "Ah... Halbrand... yes, there..." Y/n gasped. Halbrand hummed in response, the vibration sending shivers through her core and spine. Y/n’s hands gripped the sheets, her body arching off the bed; one of her hands left the bed and tangled in Halbrand’s chocolate curls, gripping the roots gently as his tongue danced and swirled, driving her wild with pleasure. The delicious beard burn creating a wonderful feeling between her legs. She loved his beard before, but oh, how she loved it even more now. Writhing beneath him a chorus of moans, Halbrand’s name escaped her lips like fallen prayers. His tongue delved deeper, finding that hidden pearl of pleasure, and Y/n shattered, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

He continued his ministrations, drawing out her ecstasy, until her cries softened to soft moans and her body relaxed, sated and fulfilled. “My love, you are a wonder.” He whispered, his voice filled with awe. “To bring you such pleasure is a gift beyond measure.” Y/n smiled, her mind hazy and body weightless as Halbrand kissed his way back up her body. Entangling their lips together, both moaned in unison as Halbrand pulled away to stand, moving to the fastenings of his trousers, eager to free himself from the confines of his clothing. Y/n reached out to him, beckoning him to come back as he crawled on top of her. "Nervous, my love?" Halbrand's deep voice sent a pleasant shiver to course through her veins. Y/n gave a soft nod and a tremulous breath, filling the gap between their lips. Halbrand’s fingers swept the loose strands of hair covering her face, tracing them down her cheek. “I just want to please you. I’m inexperienced, and I am nervous that the first time we lay together will not be perfect.” A soft chuckle fell from Halbrand’s lips, shaking his head and dismissing his lover’s words. “It will be my lady. Your nerves shall cease to exist soon enough” His hands, calloused from years of wielding sword and hammer, gently took hold of her trembling fingers, guiding them away to intertwine them with his. 

Swallowing nervously, Halbrand rested his cheek on hers, their soft breaths mingling with slow movements; Halbrand guided himself inside her, her body opening to receiving him, a perfect fit as if she was welcoming him home. Halbrand's breath caught in his throat, his eyes closing in sheer pleasure as he filled her. Falling still to allow her to adjust, Y/n let out a light whimper at the feeling—a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re so responsive. It’s enchanting.” Y/n’s eyes glazed with impending tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “𝐌𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝...𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞” Y/n’s gentle pleas spurred Halbrand to move his hips, afraid he would break her he started slow and tender. Filling her inch by inch, her warmth sent his body trembling, setting every nerve alight. Y/n’s free hand smoothed over his shoulders, her nails raking down behind his shoulders as she moaned loudly. Halbrand tucked his face in her neck, peppering kisses along her exposed skin, tongue darting out to lick the light layer of sweat. The scent of her jasmine bath oils filled his nose, making him groan, picking up his pace Y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist. Halbrand’s free hand hoisted them up slightly higher up his torso, allowing himself to lay on top of her. Their bodies firmly glued together: "𝐎𝐡, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞..." He gasped, his voice ragged with desire. "...𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞" Arching into him, Y/n sounds grew desperate as she begged Halbrand to go faster, obeying her wish Halbrand readjusted their position so he could reach her sensitive, sweet spot with the head of cock.

The string of gasps and strained moans escaped her as he rested his head on hers, heavy grunts falling from his mouth. “Halbrand…” She struggled to form a sentence, feeling the familiar coil of heat pooling in her lower abdomen, her walls clenching around him. The pent-up sensation was beginning to surface; Halbrand could feel it, his thrusts growing shallow and uneven, his release too approaching. “That’s it, my sweetheart, allow yourself to fall apart…my heart aches for you." He whispered, his voice rough with passion. "I have dreamed of this moment, of holding you, of feeling your warmth against me. To give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams. I want nothing more than to be the very reason for your happiness." He choked, tears falling down his cheeks Y/n smiled through her tears, pulling him down to press her lips to his. This time, there was no gentleness, only raw passion, a primal need to be closer, to be one. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, tasting the salt of their tears, the sweetness of each other’s desire. 

Y/n's cries filled the room as her body surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over her. Halbrand groaned into the kiss as he gave one more thrust before spilling inside her, coating her walls with his release. Breaking the kiss, their shuddered breaths filled the room as their hearts raced from their passionate lovemaking. As their breathing grew steady, Halbrand kissed Y/n’s cheeks and jaw before slowly pulling out Y/n whined at the loss as Halbrand fell onto his back. Their bodies glittered with sweat as Y/n rolled onto her side, tucking herself into his body. Sweeping his arm underneath her and pulling her close, Y/n’s fingers danced along his chest, running over the hair decorating his skin. Halbrand’s eyes cast down, watching her with love filling his gaze. Draping his hand to massage the crown of his love’s head, Y/n moaned at the feeling, her head turning to face him.

In that moment, as they held each other, they knew their love was a gift, a treasure to be cherished and celebrated, a bond that would never be broken. They had found each other again in the darkness, their love a beacon in the storm. Halbrand was no longer just Robin Hood, the masked outlaw. He was Halbrand, the man she loved, the man she was meant to spend her life with. Their love, like a phoenix, had risen from the ashes of grief, stronger and more vibrant than ever before, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in the Southlands. “I need you to promise me something.” Y/n whispered, her fingers moving to caress his jaw. The soft brush of his beard tickled her fingers. “Anything.” He smiled. “Promise me you’ll always come back to me.” Her eyes searched his; Halbrand nodded, his thumb brushing her cheek. “I promise.” He said, sealing his promise with a kiss. “Nothing will take me away from you again.”

CHRYSALIS

Tasarë was her name – young Elven girl Mairon saw through the trees in his wolf form. His yellow eyes of the beast were following the way she danced around the fire with her friends, her long hair waving in the wind and her laughter travelling through the cold air of the night.

Perhaps none of this story would happen if she hadn’t looked back, sensing his presence. He could sense from afar the shiver that went down her spine after spotting him and their eyes met – hers filling with fear after realising she had been observed by a werewolf.

Startled by her sensing his presence, Mairon ran away from there to meet with his master who impatiently awaited his report. As usual, Melkor wanted to make sure Mairon was not lying about anything, therefore he allowed himself to sneak into his servant’s mind. And amongst his memories of the battles and schemes, he found the one about the young Elven maiden Tasarë and Mairon’s fascination with her.

“You will bring her to me,” Melkor ordered. “And she will be untouched and unspoiled when she arrives here.”

Mairon nodded. He could not refuse, could he? And he could never defile what belonged to his master, so he obeyed the order completely.

He kidnapped Tasarë away from her village and her pure heart treated him with nothing but kindness throughout their whole journey. She begged him often to let her go and if it depended on him only – he would. He would, in a heartbeat.

Or perhaps he would not. Perhaps he would keep her for himself.

But he knew that he was taking her to her demise. What would Melkor do to her? Each time she smiled at Mairon while bathing in the moonlight, radiating pure beauty and light, he wondered about the pain that awaited her and his heart ached for her.

“When we arrive there, what will happen to me?” She asked once as if she had already accepted the fact she was kidnapped but the details had been kept from her until now.

“You will become a bride,” Mairon informed her and a hint of smile showed on her face, which surprised him.

“Yours?” She inquired. Perhaps such a thought was not as dreadful to her as he would expect – after all the weeks they had spent together, he became the devil she knew, after all.

“My master’s,” Mairon answered and her smile disappeared as her body froze.

“Your master?” Tasarë raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot tell you his name,” Mairon shook his head and she looked up at the night sky with tears filling her eyes.

“Do not then. I believe I know already,” she whispered.

When Mairon brought her to Melkor’s fortress, it was the last time he saw her. The Dark Lord sent him away right after as if he was afraid of the bond forged between Tasarë and his servant.

And when Mairon was back from his mission, Tasarë was not in the fortress anymore. From Melkor’s other servants, Mairon found out that his master sent her away to one of the most secluded castles up in the coldest and loneliest realms of the North. Where she was hidden from everyone and everything and where Melkor could visit her whenever he wanted to. His little bride no one else could even lay their eyes on.

“How can she endure that?” Mairon whispered but the answer he received was even sadder than whatever he had been expecting instead.

“She grew to love him. She had no other choice.”

Many long years had passed since that time and Mairon never expected to see Tasarë again but Melkor sent him – his most loyal servant – to his most secluded and hidden fortress to carry a very important message to his lover. Mairon was supposed to be a messenger and he tried his best not to show his enthusiasm too much because it could worry and alarm his master.

It was not pure joy or excitement, however, no. It was also a curiosity with a bit of anxiety at the thought of what could be left of Tasarë after all the centuries of being Melkor’s bride.

The journey was long and boring – there was nothing around but vast land of white snow and dried out trees. The place where she was being kept was the most secluded and the loneliest he could imagine. He wondered if it was still in the same dimension because the longer he travelled, the more he felt as if he was crossing a bridge from one world to another.

He spotted the castle first – enormous and black with tall towers shaped as if they were spikes. It contrasted with the white land of endless snow although the weather was dark and gloomy. Days were short here if they existed at all.

As he travelled through the snow, nearly effortlessly due to the fact he was a Maia, therefore the cold was not his enemy, he spotted something that made him furrow his brows – footsteps on the snow.

They belonged to a person – a female, he assumed, judging by the size. Was it possible that Tasarë was not as obedient to Melkor as her lover had been suspecting? After all, she was not supposed to ever leave the castle’s walls.

Mairon followed the traces with his heart pounding in his chest, awaiting to see her again but then he froze at the sight of a young woman sitting on the snow nearby one of the castle’s back doors, under a leafless tree with ice-decorated branches.

The young woman was certainly not Tasarë although she resembled her a little. Her ears were pointed but Mairon could feel even from afar that she was no ordinary Elf. She was a creature much more powerful and when he squinted his eyes, he noticed that flowers were growing under her hands and butterflies were flying around her as she laughed. She could not only bend the world to her liking but she could also create new life. She was no goddess, though, of that he was sure.

She was no Elf, no Maia, no Vala. What was she, he wondered…?

When she turned around for a moment while looking at the butterflies, his heart froze in his chest. Her face was… terrifying.

It was undeniably beautiful but gruesome at the same time. Whoever would stare at her for too long, could risk being turned into a stone. There was only one as godly beautiful as scary to the point of no one being able to look at his face for too long and Melkor was his name.

“Who are you? Why are you hiding there?” The young woman asked as a butterfly sat on her hand and she batted her snow-covered eyelashes while looking in the direction of Mairon who was hiding behind a huge rock covered with ice.

“I… Forgive me,” he cleared his throat and stepped out, bowing his head slightly and she chuckled.

“Your hair resembles fire,” she pointed out. “Are you here to burn me?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Mairon confessed. “I am here for Lady Tasarë,” he explained and the girl pouted.

“Sad,” she shrugged her arms. “I hoped that finally some adventure would happen to me. Do you know I have been living in this castle ever since I was born? A whole century!” She whined. She was an adult already but still very young and considering the fact she did not know the real world, it was understandable that she was still like a child in many ways. “Is there anything else except for the snow?”

“There is,” Mairon assured her and crouched down next to her as he pointed at the butterfly on her hand. “You create such things. Flowers, butterflies…”

“Oh, but they…” She looked down sadly and then she looked up again to meet his gaze but with so much mischief in her eyes that a shiver travelled down Mairon’s spine at how terrifying she truly was. “I bring them to life only to die. Look, they’re drying out already in the cold. I give them life and they suffer because of my whim,” she informed him without any emotion whatsoever.

“Why then?” Mairon inquired.

“Because I am selfish,” she answered. “I destroy.”

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured her and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” she noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly as he was thinking of an answer but they were interrupted by another woman walking out of the castle through the back door.

“(Y/N),” familiar but horribly changed voice caused his facial muscles to twitch out of nervousness. “You are forbidden from going outside. How many more times do I have to say that?”

“You’ve no control over me. I am my own storm; my own thunder,” the girl named (Y/N) stood up angrily.

Mairon stood up as well and straightened his back as he clasped his hands and kept staring down, not daring to look up before being addressed.

“Stop being dramatic and go back inside,” Tasarë sighed and (Y/N) groaned out of frustration before going inside the castle. “Mairon,” the Elf finally called his name and he raised his head.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her kin was known for staying forever young, yet she aged in the most peculiar way. The corruption and rot had spread throughout her and there was nothing but a shell of her old self now. In a way, she reminded Mairon of the fallen Elves that Melkor had taken to turn into the Uruks but she remained more beautiful than them and she was not covered with any scars.

Because it was not his torture that had damaged her but his love. Everything about him was destructive and deadly.

The young Elven maiden dancing innocently around the fire in the moonlight was long gone. The woman standing in front of him was a mockery of her old self. 

“Stop pitying me, Mairon,” she snarled at him with contempt. “Did he send you here or were you a fool to give in to your urges to find me and check on the state of me?” She asked.

“He sent me,” Mairon answered. “I have a message.”

“Come in then,” Tasarë pointed at the doors and he went inside the castle. It was as dark and cold on the inside as on the outside.

Tasarë led him to the big room where (Y/N) was sitting as well. She was reading a manuscript by the fire and looked up with a wicked smile at the sight of them.

“Leave us,” Tasarë ordered and the young girl clenched her jaw out of anger before walking out.

“Who is she?” Mairon asked in a whisper.

“You know who she is. You suspect. The answer is yes,” Tasarë sat by the table and reached her hand out for him to hand her the message.

Mairon did so but his brow remained furrowed. Well, it was possible for his master to become a father – as wicked as it sounded – but he was now bound to the form of his flesh. That was the very reason why he was avoiding taking part in his battles despite some accusing him of cowardice. And for a Vala, being bound to the form of your flesh also meant that you could reproduce.

“Forgive me. I have asked the wrong question,” Mairon interrupted Tasarë as she was reading and she looked up to meet his gaze, irritated. “I should have not asked who she was,” he nodded. “What is she?”

“It is hard to tell,” Tasarë answered. “She is like a god but weaker than one. Perhaps a bit like you. She can change her forms and no ordinary blow will slay her. She can create life as you have already seen. She… terrifies me,” Tasarë confessed. “But I love her.”

“Like you love her father?”

Tasarë gave him a scolding look.

“You are asking too many questions, Mairon. He will look through your mind, don’t you know? He will punish you for the fact you have seen (Y/N). That you know about her. That you dared to ask about her and now this… My sweet devil, you must enjoy the pain he is giving you,” she shook her head.

“So do you, apparently,” Mairon did not give up. The punishment would come anyway already, she was right about that.

“It is impossible not to… He is a god,” Tasarë explained as if she was surprised that she had to explain that at all. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be chosen by a god?”

“Not like you do,” Mairon admitted.

Long silence occurred and Tasarë looked around as if she was scared Melkor was right there, spying on them. Because, perhaps he could be. She beckoned Mairon over and he leaned in to hear her words better and her lips nearly brushed his slightly pointed ear as his ginger hair tickled her cheek.

“I have dismissed her to protect you and her from his wrath. You cannot know too much about her but one thing I shall tell you – she is half me, too. Half of the real me. The woman you saw dancing by the fire as a beast; the woman you kidnapped to lay her on his lethal altar and sacrifice her. And now her daughter terrifies me but the amount of her power is so vast… She can heal as much as destroy, my sweet master of deception. And I can see how much healing is what you truly crave,” Tasarë confessed. “Promise me that you will take care of her if anything happens. That you will watch over her. You owe me that. You owe that to the young maiden you took away from her family for him to destroy.”

“I can’t assure you I will be able to tame her,” Mairon breathed out, taken aback by her plea.

“I am not asking you to tame her,” Tasarë shot him a glance. “Don’t you even dare! I am asking you to… accompany her. She is awfully lonely here. She craves to see the world and I am sure the world craves to see her as well for she is a wonder.”

“I will,” Mairon nodded, with all seriousness.

He had seen (Y/N) only for a while but he was drawn to her already. In a way, he understood why Melkor was hiding her from the world. Everyone would be drawn to her. She was the most extraordinary creature. Her enormous power, the light balancing with the darkness within her – the innocence mixed with wickedness. 

He was honoured to be chosen by her mother to be burdened with such a task. And he owed her that favor. 

When Melkor fell and the Valar locked him away, Tasarë followed him even though she was offered mercy. But there was no life for her anymore except for the life next to her lover and she refused to abandon him in the abyss. She volunteered to spend the eternity there with him and the Valar were in awe of her devotion to the point they granted her Elven flesh the possibility of spending her forever alongside Melkor in the dimension of his prison.

The Valar also found out about the existence of (Y/N) and they debated for a long time about what to do with a creature so extraordinary. However, she remained completely innocent so far and the only danger about her was her father’s heritage.

Nienna, She Who Weeps, was (Y/N)’s greatest advocate. And when Mairon was given his second chance to come back to Valinor and face his judgement, they asked him to bring (Y/N) with him because they wanted to meet her – yet the castle she was in remained out of their grasp, which only made Mairon realise that it was truly another dimension that his master had created to hide his lover and offspring in from the world.

And so Mairon went back to that secluded realm in the North, trying to find his master’s daughter. And he found her inside the castle, curled on the floor, in the middle of the biggest room. She seemed to be frozen but she was obviously still alive. He crouched down next to her and touched her shoulder gently, which caused her to stir.

“They abandoned me. Both of them. I shall stay here forever,” she mumbled out.

“Did you not want to see the world?” Mairon asked her gently and (Y/N) looked up at him as she snorted.

“That was a long time ago. My father is defeated now. There is no world for me anymore,” she answered, as dramatically as when he had met her for the first time a few centuries earlier.

“Truth to be told, your father was destroying the world. There would be nothing for you to see if he succeeded. But it is still there, although hurt and bruised. Together, we can heal it,” Mairon offered her his hand.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, visibly intrigued. She sat up and fixed her hair.

“I promised your mother to watch over you if anything happens. She did not want you to be left alone,” he added to encourage her.

“Why would she ask you out of all?” (Y/N) remained suspicious, doubting his status.

“My name is Mairon. I was your father’s most powerful Lieutenant,” Mairon pointed out, nearly offended that he had to introduce himself to anyone. “Most people know me by a different name, though. It is… Sauron,” he winced a little while saying this.

“The Abhorred,” (Y/N) hummed to herself. “Ah, yes, my mother only spoke of you this way when you were not around,” she added and Mairon pursed his lips, trying not to show his irritation too much. “Well, do you promise me that I will see the world?” She asked as she held his hand, which he still kept extended.

“Yes, I do,” Mairon nodded.

It was never his intention to inform her about the chance the Valar wanted to give them. No, it was not his plan to take her to Valinor and to face their judgement. He had much better plans for the two of them.

Ever since he had seen her for the first time and the promise he had made to her mother, he could not help imagining and plotting them two ruling over Middle-earth. And when Melkor’s defeat had become a question of when instead of if, he had already known that (Y/N) was his future.

Despite the seed of evil deep inside of her – alongside the seed of goodness, of course – she was an innocent being who knew nothing of the real world. He could shape her the way he wished and whatever would come out of her was all in his hands now. In a way, he was a god of this situation – considering she would not be too uncontrollable due to her undeniable power. But which seed would grow within her was up to him entirely. It was his choice which part of her he would water and feed, pamper and spoil.

“We will go everywhere. We will heal and we will conquer. I will take your father’s place amongst the dark creatures of the shadows. I will lead them and I will rule over Middle-earth but you will not be hidden away any longer. No, you will be right by my side,” Mairon promised. He was always good with words and he could see how her terrifying eyes were starting to sparkle at his promises.

“As?” She inquired.

“What do you mean as?” He furrowed his brows.

“As whom? I will be by your side as whom?” (Y/N) explained her question.

“As whoever you wish to be. I am not here to tame you,” he remembered her mother’s words.

No, he was there to use her. To take advantage of her power and to bask in it. To introduce her as Morgoth’s daughter and his right hand, which would convince the dark creatures to follow him more eagerly.

And to have her as his own, to own her, to be the only man able to touch her and look at her. His master’s daughter – she was a prize indeed. Half-goddess he was unworthy of and yet she would eat from his hand.

Those were only bold daydreams that he knew his master and her mother would kill him for but they were far away and he remained out of their reach. 

Because perhaps there was some goodness in him still and that urge to heal the world but at heart he was a predator and a warlord. And even though she still felt like nothing but Melkor’s humbled servant sometimes, he knew that with time he would eventually bloom into his worthy successor. Offering him her daughter while calling out the remains of his softness, Tasarë had not known that she had been giving (Y/N) away to Melkor’s shadow.

“I can sense your greed, Sauron,” (Y/N) squeezed his fingers tighter as if she was trapping him. “But greed is no stranger to me for I have been locked here since birth. I am greedy for life. Selfish for it. And I need your guidance,” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

He saw fire in her gaze – her father’s uncontrollable destruction. Perhaps he should slay her and leave her to rot. Perhaps it would be for the better for the whole of Middle-earth and for him, too. He got scared suddenly that he would never be able to keep her temper and her powers under control.

That not only she would finish her father’s work but she would overthrow him – Mairon himself.

But he could also see the flowers blooming and the sun rising above the green hills – she and she only could turn Middle-earth into a realm as beautiful as Valinor; the place he was no longer welcome.

Mairon helped (Y/N) to stand up and he adjusted her dresses as if he was a maid, getting rid of all the dust.

“Do you think the world will fall on its knees at the sight of me?” She asked without the smallest hint of irony. Nearly innocently she believed that she was the most exceptional and the most special creature. And the worst thing was that she had every right to because she was. 

“I will make sure of it,” Mairon promised her and she smiled.

And when she was smiling, she was resembling her mother the most – the very same kind smile Tasarë had been giving him during their journey to Melkor after he had kidnapped her.

Mairon’s heart clenched at the memory.

From one fortress to another Mairon took her – from one prison to another, (Y/N) would say. They had moved South significantly but they hadn’t even left the North yet and (Y/N) was bitter about it since snow and ice was still all she could see. She was unprepared to roam freely around Middle-earth, though, and she was given much more space now instead while the new fortress was much fuller with creatures of all kinds, therefore she could no longer call herself lonely.

It made Mairon happy to see how the Orcs were bowing their heads at the sight of her, nearly touching the ground with their foreheads; too scared to look into her terrifying, cold eyes. He was so excited about it that he did not realise how suspicious Adar was getting.

(Y/N) was given the most beautiful gowns by Mairon and even though it was making him feel frustrated to feel this way – he truly enjoyed giving her gifts and watching her eyes sparkle, although sometimes she would openly admit she found something ugly. He waited for her harsh judgement with anticipation and her approval meant the world to him, meanwhile her rejection felt like a blow. And he hated that for one reason only – it was a brutal reminder that he was a Maia and his nature was of a servant.

His eyes always followed her – he told himself it was to protect her but truth to be told, it was the world that should be protected from her and not the other way around. Yet, he witnessed her whims and dramatic outbursts, her laughter – both pure and wicked – her dancing and her acts of creation. Within the walls of this fortress her butterflies lived much longer and she adorably found it endearing. 

But she was also fascinated by the weapons of all sorts and forbidden magic spells left by her father. Her blood was as black and thick as his, Mairon noticed one day when she drew it with a dagger to perform one innocent spell.

He felt like a nanny sometimes – running towards her to take away the books with too dangerous spells from her. She was yet unprepared to use them. He did not even want to think about what would happen if she was left unsupervised.

Therefore, even in her dreams he followed her and she often dreamt of her mother and of imaginary lands since she had no idea what the real ones looked like. And he had to admit the realms (Y/N) was creating with her mind were… beautiful. They were full of sun and green fields of grass, butterflies and flowers. They were ideal and full of harmony – the very first time Mairon had joined them in her dreams, he nearly cried because it was exactly how he wanted the world to look like. But it also meant that at the end of the day (Y/N)’s heart remained pure and uncorrupted.

And just like that, he fell in love with her. As her protector, as her servant, as her subject, as her friend. As her lover.

One evening Mairon asked (Y/N) to join him in the forge where she had not yet been. She walked inside and looked around with widened eyes and a smile – soft but a little contemptuous as well.

“Do you like it?” Mairon asked her with his hands clasped nervously behind his back.

“Perhaps. But is it not a commoner’s work to commit himself to physical labour?” She leaned her back onto the pillar and Mairon chuckled nervously as he approached her.

“Would a commoner craft you such wonders?” He asked as he reached his hand out and showed her a necklace and a ring that he was holding inside his hand and that he had forged for her a few days earlier. He had been lacking the courage to give it to her until now, though.

“Are they for me?” (Y/N) asked as her eyes sparkled when she took the jewellery from him. Mairon nodded at her question, proud of himself because she visibly liked the gift. “Why?” She asked.

“You do not own any,” he answered.

“But who sees me here? I surely have no need to look grand for the Orcs,” she laughed.

“I see you,” Mairon pointed out and she froze.

He panicked at first, scared that those three words had been three too many. But she was not looking at him at all. She pointed her finger at the item behind his back.

“That is…” (Y/N) whispered.

“Your father’s crown,” Mairon nodded and walked up to it. “I am about to reforge it to fit me. Do you want to watch?” He asked and (Y/N) nodded, hesitantly.

She put on her new necklace and a new ring before Mairon offered her one of the leather aprons. It made her giggle when he was putting it over her gown.

“I would not want your robes to get damaged,” he informed her and she nodded as she sat on the chair nearby and watched with fascination how he worked.

When the black iron of her father’s crown melted, she sighed loudly and Mairon turned his head around to raise his eyebrow at her.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking if you could forge an item for me made out of this iron, too,” she looked up at him. “He was my father. I wish to keep a part of him with me always.”

“You are part of him,” Mairon laughed and she pouted. “But, surely, why not,” he promised and she grinned.

He poured a small amount of the liquid black iron aside to one of the cauldrons over the fire to avoid solidification. And while he worked on his new crown, he wondered what he could forge for (Y/N).

A bold idea came to his mind – an idea so forbidden that he felt a shiver travel down his spine at the thought of what her parents would do to him for having it.

Yet, he was out of their reach, so he went with it and at the end of the night, he handed (Y/N) a wedding band.

“Another ring?” She huffed. “Thought you would be more creative,” she sighed. “It doesn’t even have any gemstone attached to it!”

“Do you know what that is?” Mairon asked, a little impatiently, but mostly nervously. If she rejected him now, it would certainly be one of his grandest humiliations.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and tilted her head as she stared at the item in her hand, looking at it from every angle. And when the light from the forge’s fire reflected upon the surface of the band, the letters glistened and she read them out loud in a whisper.

“It is a love declaration in Black Speech,” she looked up to meet his gaze as Mairon swallowed the lump in his throat. “That language was not made with love declarations in mind, that is for sure,” she remarked.

“Nevermind then,” Mairon tore the item out of her hands and walked away nervously to avoid her gaze. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down after such a humiliation, he did not hear her footsteps following him.

“Sauron…” She whispered, addressing him by the only name she was ever calling him with because her mother had taught her so, and touched his shoulder but he flinched. “You do not like that name, do you?”

“Yet you keep using it,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“The Abhorred sounds so pretty to me,” she confessed and he softened a little but still refused to turn around and meet her gaze. “From the moment I saw you those centuries ago… I knew that you were the one for me,” she added and Mairon’s heart quickened. “You showed up out of nowhere like a knight out of my dreams who would save me. Your red hair contrasting with the snow… I shall never forget that day.”

Mairon finally turned around and he watched as she cupped his face gently and pulled his head down to be able to place a kiss upon his forehead while his heart began to pounder.

“However, I cannot marry a man who needs me more than I need him,” she added when she let go of him, her words shattering his heart into millions of pieces.

And alongside the pain, anger came as well. Mairon did not enjoy being rejected.

“If you think you do not need me, you are mistaken,” he spoke as the sudden fury overtook him, causing his veins to swell with thick, black blood. (Y/N) took a step back at the sight. “If it was not for me, you would still be rotting in that fortress, hidden away from the world. I took you here, I prepare your father’s armies to continue their march because you have never been taught anything. I am the one promising you the whole Middle-earth, ensuring its people will worship you. If you do not wish to be sent back there to rot, then you have to accept the fact that I am your only future!” He snapped and calmed down right after, softening immediately as his hands began to tremble slightly. He fixed his hair and clasped his shaky hands quickly to hide his nervousness from her.

“You… You dropped the band,” was all (Y/N) said to that as she pointed at the floor before crouching down to pick it up.

Before she stood up, she looked up at his face and it only made him feel even more guilty and scared for lashing out on her.

“Forgive me,” he grabbed her face and leaned in to be as close as he could. “Forgive me, please, I did not mean to… Gods, it has never been my intention to hurt you,” he was lying to herself as much as to his own self. “You must forgive me, it was only caused by fear. Fear of losing you,” he continued and felt her muscles relaxing eventually.

She even dared to wrap her arms around him as she clinged to him like a child seeking warmth.

“I would never leave you,” she breathed out and brushed his ginger hair to put the loose hair strands behind his ears. “There is nothing I am scared of more than to be left all alone again. You were right and I was mistaken – I do need you. I was teasing you only but I did not expect such wrath in return. You are all I have. What is the point of being so powerful when there is no one to witness?” She finished with a playful question and Mairon sighed out of relief, leaning in to brush her nose a little with his own.

She winced slightly and giggled before moving her head to brush him with the tip of her nose as well. Like two kittens they played like that for a while until he finally joined their lips together and she opened her mouth to let him devour her.

He felt Melkor’s wrath even from all the dimensions away but he could not care less about any of that. To hold a creature like her so close and to feel the heart of her flesh beating so fast for him was a victory of its own. For a moment, he nearly wanted to abandon all his schemes and start a new life with her somewhere – to create a life like the one from her dreams but for the both of them only where they could hide from the world and spend eternity in each other’s embrace.

“Please, don’t send me away back there,” she whispered softly after breaking the kiss, her lower lip trembling slightly.

How silly she could be. He would not be able to do so even if he tried because she was too powerful for that. Yet, her loneliness caused her dependance on him and it was all for him for the taking. He felt bad taking advantage of that but it was too tempting to reject.

“My beautiful (Y/N),” he whispered and caressed her cheeks. “You will never be alone. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And wherever you go, I shall make sure everyone there worships your light and your darkness as equals for you are too powerful to be reduced to one. You will help me to heal, to create new life and I will lead your father’s armies to ensure our victories,” he promised and she smiled before pecking his lips once more.

(Y/N) took a small step back and he watched in awe as she put the wedding band onto her finger. His heart and soul sang at the sight.

“I refuse to be in the shadows like my mother once was. I want to lead the armies with you,” she met Mairon’s gaze. “I want to earn my own squalid name, Sauron. The Abhorred. I want to carry my own title with pride,” she revealed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

How cute and innocent she could be one moment and how terrifying the next. Mairon wondered if the war of her two natures within her was exhausting her. Was she being haunted constantly by the duel of her light and her darkness?

But perhaps there was no war within her. It was only natural for her, after all. Perhaps they coexisted and balanced perfectly and it all made sense somehow. And perhaps it was not his duty to understand any of this but to accept her the way she was.

“You will be given a sword and armour,” he promised. “You will be their Queen of The Day and of The Night. You will be their rescue and their demise. Their Sun and their Moon. Their Life and their Death. And whatever path you choose, I shall follow you down the road.”

“Worry not,” (Y/N) chuckled and approached him to put her hands on his shoulders. “I know it is your wish to heal. And my wish is to rule over a world so beautiful like the ones from my dreams. I will only destroy those who stand on our way to create such greatness,” she swore.

Her words soothed him but could he truly trust her? She was Melkor’s daughter and his influence might have been stronger than they both suspected. What other choice did Mairon have, though? To slay her? He would never do that. Therefore, all he could do was to keep her close and take care of her.

Who was he fooling, though? His own self?

He was there to follow and serve and it was only the matter of time when she would realise how powerful she truly was and what a great influence she had over him as well.

Even if she would destroy the whole Middle-earth like her father wanted to and create a land of ashes, he would gladly rule over it by her side. 

Gods, he would gladly serve there as his Queen’s subject and that would be enough.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” he breathed out and she giggled.

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

Sauron released a breath, believing he was more prepared to speak; he smiled his ocean eyes finding hers in a lovestruck gaze. “Names Halbrand, not a lord, just a ‘low man’ as I’ve been often described. And your name, fair maiden?” He introduced himself, asking her name in reply. His voice was warm like the summer breeze she adored when it swept through Lindon's trees. And through the grass on the hills surrounding Eregion. “Well, Halbrand. I’m Y/n.” She gave him her name, his hand sliding under hers, bringing it to his lips.

The gentlest caress of his lips touched her hand and made her blush. Casting her eyes down to avert his gaze, he laughed lightly. “It seems the tables have turned quite quickly in this matter.” He winked. Y/n noticed he was still holding her hand, and his eyes followed her gaze. He released her hand as quickly as he grabbed it and apologised softly. “Oh no, it’s quite alright. It’s not often I have that kind of affectionate greeting. If my sister were here, she’d have it put to an end. She’s fiercely protective.” She sighed dramatically. Sauron gave a nod, his brows furrowed. “Does your sister live here with you in Eregion?” He asked her Y/n, shaking her head, her mouth open to reply, when another voice cut her off. “Y/n!” Looking over Halbrand’s shoulder, Y/n’s eyes lit up as she swept her dress skirts into her hands and ran toward the familiar voice hitting Sauron’s ear. “Sister!”

Turning around, his mouth parted before his shoulders slumped slightly. Galadriel. Well, that’s perhaps a hurdle he didn’t expect to have on his path, but nevertheless, it's a hurdle he must cross over if he has to. Standing behind Y/n, his eyes found Galadriel’s a smile on his face. Y/n spun around, gasping sharply, excusing herself. “Where are my manners, Galadriel? This is Halbrand. Hal-” Y/n began when Galadriel nodded her head with a straight face. “I know Halbrand; he is the Southlander King I told you about.” She expressed that Y/n’s eyes widened; stepping back, she put her hands on her hips.

“Well, that information was left out conveniently, Your Majesty.” Y/n curtsied to Sauron, who laid his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up. “You do not need to do that, sweet Y/n. I am no King.” He spoke, his focus directed to Galadriel. The elf tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly in annoyance. “Sister, Elrond was looking forward to seeing you. I would like to speak to Halbrand for a moment.” She smiled at her younger sister Y/n looked between her sister and Sauron, nodding in understanding. “Of course, Galadriel, until we see each other again, 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝.” Her lashes fluttered, meeting his eyes in a deep stare. Breaking eye contact, Y/n let out a shuddered breath as she walked away to find Elrond. Looking back, she saw him do the same. Watching her walk away, she smiled with a wave.

Sauron waved back, feeling a harsh shove from Galadriel. Spinning on his heel, he eyed her with a narrow expression. “You must understand when it comes to my sister I-” Sauron chuckled, cutting her off as he finished her sentence. “You are fiercely protective, Y/n has already informed me. You do not have to worry about any wrongful actions between your sister and me.” Sauron explained, his heart throbbing at the thought Y/n. Galadriel was not blind; she knew the look of love all too well; she once had such love. She observed Sauron’s head turn in the direction where Y/n had left. “Might I ask if any man has expressed interest in your sister? If I am permitted, I would like to.” His voice was unsteady, and a slight stutter of his words made a soft laugh fall from Galadriel’s lips. Giving a nod, Galadriel walked beside Sauron as they strolled along the cobblestone path. “I do not see anything wrong with such a request. Only that you promise me one thing.” She expressed her eyes while looking at the numerous merchant stalls. Sauron’s eyes lit up, a smile building. Trying to contain his enthusiasm, he played it cool. “Of course, anything at all.” The Commander turned her attention back to her friend, her face stoic and expressionless before the curves of her lips formed a light smile. “Be true to her.” Sauron felt his eyes soften at Galadriel’s promise of allowing him to court her sister and bowing his head respectfully.

Sauron released a small breath of relief and anxiety. “I will honour such promise with all my heart. You have nothing to fear.” 

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Try as I may, I can never explain

What I hear when you don't say a thing

Some time has passed since their meeting, and Sauron tried to think of the best way to approach Y/n with his intentions of courting her. He would back out each time; Y/n would often see him walking the streets and wave from afar. Their brief and yet nervous exchanges of words made each other’s hearts skip. When he discovered her favourite flowers, Sauron rushed to the nearest florist merchant and bought her favourites. So now Sauron walked up the small path past the gate leading to Y/n’s home; he suddenly grew nervous. The Dark Lord was nervous; for once, it was not from the thought of impending torture for misjudgement or the fight for power with his old master. Sauron, who now felt like his old self once again, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, his heart racing. There was something about Y/n that made him want to seek redemption and to be what he once was and had long thought was gone from his mind. To be as Eru created him to be. 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

Rehearsing his lines over in his mind, he braced his knuckles to make contact with her door. Shaking his head, he stepped back, pacing back and forth along the path leading to her home. Feeling brave, Sauron approached the door once more and knocked thrice, awaiting for Y/n to answer. As the door opened, he was greeted by her beautiful smile. “Halbrand!” She gasped, noticing the flowers in his hand—her favourites. The gesture made her cheeks flush with heat as Sauron stretched out his hand, bowing his head. “I spoke to your sister, and she has given her blessing for me to court you. And I thought as a first gesture of my affections would be a bouquet of your favourite flowers. And mayhaps a night walk?” He wondered his eyes and smiled, hopeful she would say yes. Y/n put a hand over her heart, and she closed her door with a nod. Accepting his flowers, smelling the sweet scents blended together, her eyes sparkled at his thoughtful gift. “This is a wonderful gift, Halbrand; I did not think you were really listening when I spoke about…anything.” She admitted with a nervous smile. Sauron offered his arm with a charming grin, silently asking her to take his arm.

Y/n looped her arm around his, and the two walked side by side, conversing about their day.  The streets of Eregion were quiet, and the odd rowdy bunch of drunk elves in the tavern were cheering and clapping in the distance. “So Galadriel permitted you to court me? That is unlike her, every other suitor she has driven away.” Y/n giggled. Holding onto his arm as the cool gentle breeze blew as Sauron led them to the river nearby. “Your sister is only protecting you. I admire that.” They sat near the edge, admiring the stars beginning to appear in the dark sky above. “Varda creates the most beautiful stars.” Y/n breathed, her face glowing with adoration. Sauron tensed at the mention of the Queen of the Stars; smiling softly, he hummed in response. “She does. She is much loved, not just by the others of the Valar but by the elves. I should know.” He murmured Y/n turned her head to look at Sauron, her fingers sliding along his hand, the gesture making his breath hitch. “There is much about me you do not know. And if I am to remain loyal to your sister and my promise, I must fulfil it.” He whispered, his heart growing heavy with doubt and anxiety; the silence from Y/n made him uneasy, but seeing her soft smile and sparkling eyes made him feel less worried.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me

“I am, was a Maia. My name was Mairon, and I was created by Eru. I apprenticed under Aule the Smith. I spent my days learning how to craft metals and mastering the forging skills. But I was led astray by Melkor, or what your people know him as Morgoth. I became his lieutenant, I did his dirty work, I helped him destroy so much, and it pained me. I have long forgotten how many tears I wept whilst and after the torture I endured under his hand. Morgoth was a God; no one understands the suffering you experience under such circumstances. So I became 𝐒𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝. My name was never Halbrand, nor am I a man.” He couldn’t bring himself to look into Y/n’s eyes, but he could smell the salt in her eyes daring to look; his eyes flickered to her face. The stray tears escaped her eyes as she blinked gently. A shuddered breath escaped her parted lips. “You killed my brother Finrod. You want to enslave all of Middle-Earth.” She whispered, her eyes not leaving his. Sauron, too, felt tears beginning to form in his eyes as he held into Y/n’s hands, though she did not move to escape his grasp. “I am sorry for everything I have done and what I did to your brother. I have been driven to believe that the power and darkness within me is all that exists. But I saw the pure light radiating from you; it was the calling I needed to remind me of the good inside me that I thought was dead. That I am capable of redemption and being as good and noble as I was created to be. You have awakened that old flicker of light inside me. I want to be Mairon again. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬.” He smiled through his tears as they fell down his cheeks, his thumbs brushing along her hands.

The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall

You say it best, when you say nothing at all

Y/n remained silent, trying to process all the information she had heard. It’s true she did feel a conflict was lingering deep within him. But Y/n has always been able to see the good in everyone, no matter their past wrongdoings. Though she will always resent him for killing her brother, she couldn’t deny how her heart would flutter whenever she would think about him. Her thoughts were filled with him every one of her waking moments, and in her dreams—𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡. Sauron took Y/n’s silence as a negative response, his hands releasing hers as a shaky breath left his lips. “I’m sorry I should never have- I want to be true to you. And that meant revealing my true identity to you. And that I am not- I no longer wish to be Sauron.” 

He confessed, staring into her bright eyes; surprising him, Y/n leaned forward, her lips pressed to his own with a gentle kiss. Sauron was taken aback but soon reciprocated the kiss, his fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer. The tiniest moan left Y/n’s lips and filled their kiss. Angling his head to the side, Sauron deepened the kiss, his hand reaching out to find hers. Breaking apart for air, Sauron felt a dazed smile appear, noticing Y/n’s eyes were still closed, her lashes fluttering delicately, revealing her pretty eyes to his vision. He could see her release a soft gasp as she mirrored his expression, her fingers intertwining between his. “Is that how a first kiss should be?” She breathed, resting her head on his. Sauron’s knuckles swept over the apple of her cheek, humming softly. His voice broke the comfortable silence. “I do not believe you.” He laughed lightly Y/n nudged her nose along Sauron’s, and she nodded. “Truly, I’ve never kissed a man before. There was one boy, but Galadriel stopped it. So I waited until the right…man…” Her voice fell quiet as Sauron connected their lips again Y/n giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers lightly trailing along the nape of his neck and up to gently grip the roots of his hair. “I think I have found a new favourite pastime of mine.” Sauron spoke between kisses Y/n pulled away, titling her head at his confession. Sauron smiled brightly. “Kissing you.” He established with a chuckle. “Oh no, have I fallen in love with a charmer?” She raised a brow; Sauron smirked, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “Only time will tell.” He winked.

✧ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✧ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✧

All day long, I can hear people talking out loud

But when you hold me near you drown out the crowd 

Y/n clapped loudly as she watched Galadriel teach some young children how to wield a sword. Of course, they were wooden swords, but nonetheless, Galadriel pretended to be wounded whenever the children would strike her. Y/n would cheer for the young elves against her sister as she felt two arms wrap around her waist. Gasping, she looked over her shoulder, meeting the familiar gaze of her betrothed’s eyes. “Careful, or your sister may get jealous you are favouring young elven children to beat her in a ‘made up’ hand-to-hand combat.” His voice murmured into her neck, his breath tickling her skin; she wriggled in his grasp, spinning in his hold. “Galadriel knows how much I adore children. She is also aware that she cannot compete with the adorableness of children.” She giggled.

Try as they may, they can never define

What's being said between your heart and mine

 Sauron swayed them from side to side, his brows raised in amusement, and a grin spread across his handsome features. “Goodness, how will she be when competing with our children?” He remarked with a mock expression. Y/n felt giddy at the thought that Sauron had been thinking about children. “You would like to have children? I was unsure if you wanted-” Sauron put a finger to her lips, smiling warmly as he swiped his finger along her bottom lip. “I would not be opposed to having children with you, my love. It would fill my heart with joy to share a family with you.” He whispered against her lips. Y/n gazed over at Galadriel, and then a smirk appeared on her lips. Fluttering her lashes seductively, Sauron noticed the change in her eyes; he grinned. “Well, I am off child supervision for now; perhaps you and I can start to 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫?” Holding her hand tightly in his, they swept through the crowd, laughing like two idiots in love as Sauron swept Y/n into his arms, carrying her past the threshold of their home.

He wonders if a Maia could even be capable of such trivial things like a sickness. Wonders if maybe it’s borne from this mortal flesh he’d awoken in; if perhaps Melian had fretted too over this fatigued, adrift state of sense when she bound herself to her corporeality and the menial necessities that came with living in such a body.

Is this what it’s like to fall from grace?

He’d found himself in an endless loop of madness in trying to decipher his Judgement the day he first awoke: Why the Valar had allowed him— Sauron, the Abhorred, Gorthaur the Cruel, Shadow of Morgoth— a second chance; a rebirth. It doesn’t feel like mercy. Is this punishment? A test? Is he truly as free as they're making him believe?

Why, if anything, these hammer and tongs— his age-old solace— just feel like another shackle binding his wrists. 

It’s both too good to be true and not at all.

Perhaps this is the play. To have his uncertainty drive him into insanity. To be the architect of his own demise. Or maybe this is just another part of a grand design amongst the Ainur he isn’t privy to anymore— but surely not; Who would want to give a role of any significance to him? He is Sauron. The Great Deceiver. He cannot be trusted. 

By his very own hands, he had ensured that.

…Except you. Eärmaril. The one who’d offered him wine and proverbial bread and a new beginning. 

Foolish, he thinks, pursing his lips. But with whatever few days of time he chanced to spend with you sitting in that cell, there’d been a graceful naïveté to you he found (charming) himself envying. A mortal innocence. An excitable youth he’d long since grown out of. This seemingly bright wonder and an ever-light in your eyes he deemed frustratingly blinding— like the blaze of a sun, or the glare of a moonglade— that he surprisingly couldn’t help but be drawn into out of pure fascination.

Even moreso, now, since he’s discovered:

“You’re a craftsman?” says Halbrand, stunned. “You didn’t tell me.”

In the clear midday afternoon, you pause to look up from your potter’s wheel. 

He’s fascinated. It shows in the curious dart of his eyes. 

Earthenware line the front of your atelier, all in odd colours, shapes and sizes, still dewy from catching the remains of the late morning shower. They trail into your workshop; great pots and elaborate vases dotting the floor while the flatware stack neatly on shelves lining limestone walls. The ceramics are all set aside in a way one could see a careful path to your throwing wheel, where you’re nestled behind and idly washing the slip off your fingernails in a bucket of water.

“You don’t tell me a lot of things, either,” you snort, drying your hands on your apron. Your tousled hair is tied neatly away, and there’s a spot of clay marking the edge of your jaw. “Besides, is it so surprising I am?”

Halbrand had seen you at the docks, just this salty morning when he stood at the forge (that you’d spent hours cajoling the Master blacksmith into accepting him into the day prior); barefooted on the docks among the local sailors, casually dirtying your pretty alabaster skirts with wet sand and seawater to help tug the ropes of a wayward skiff, dainty sleeves rolled and rumpled up to your elbows as you moored it with the unwomanly ease of a seasoned sailor.

“How unladylike!” he’d overheard the chinwag of the traditional Númenorean mothers when she came upshore. “What a mess!”

(What a mess, indeed. But it explains plenty, and as a Smith, Mairon can understand it. An esoteric signature between all artisans is to be a mess; to rebel against the orthodox. It had been what set him apart from the other Maiar— And it had been precisely what led him into Morgoth’s hands.)

“No, I suppose not,” says Halbrand, sounding somewhat breathless. You stamp down the prickle of alarm when he picks up a piece to study it; the instinctual urge to warn him to be careful.

There is a thread of… something, after all, no matter how unconsciously thin it may be, between you two. You cannot call it trust— not yet, but you’re determined to get there— so perhaps understanding would do; And if it starts with something as small a step as trusting him not to mishandle your works, then you’ll chance it.

Craftsmanship appears to be the only bridge to a version of Halbrand you’ve not yet seen since you’ve met him, after all. You want to hold on to it. No, you want him to hold on to it, more like. To this lifeline; this rare flicker of radiant light in him.

“Have you ever tried pottery?” you ask, noticing the acuity of his appraising gaze.

For a moment, his gaze had fallen inwards, and he was not in the room with you when he spoke with a longing look. Sauron is far away, in the place where Aulë first taught Mairon all there is to know of the joys of creation. 

“I’ve tried my hand in plenty a craft before metalwork, believe it or not,” Halbrand says, and sets the plate back down with a clink. “Admittedly, clay is my weakest medium.”

“Oh?” you smile, suddenly curious, and Halbrand meets your inquisitive look once you’ve set your finished piece— a jug it looks to be— alongside the rest of the unfired clay prepared for the kilns.

“Clay is ever elusive,” says Halbrand, mildly as he can to avoid offense. “It is the inferior material to work with. The most fragile after being tempered.”

It had sounded almost recited, the way he said it, and so you frown, “Right. And who told you that?”

Morgoth. “…My old master.”

“Valar, then your old master must’ve been as good as…” you wave, face twisting in incredulity to find the words. “A netless net cast on shallow shores.”

There’s a pause, and you wonder if you’d crossed a line at the sudden seize of him— until he lets out a breath, akin to a wheeze, almost. 

It’s a small sound, but enough to catch you off-guard nonetheless. You've never heard him laugh before. 

“You disagree?” asks Halbrand, amusingly. 

“Not entirely.” You cock your head, sidling a hip at the table as you playfully stare him down. “It is elusive and fragile, yes. That it is an inferior material? No. Shaped correctly, pottery can endure centuries. It does not rust like steel, erode like stone, or decay like wood. It can outlast an age. Outlast even us.”

Us. He tarries on the word more longer than he should. He suddenly remembers he isn’t Mairon the Admirable— not just a craftsman speaking to another craftsman— but Sauron, hiding beneath the veneer that is Halbrand, a mortal man with a seemingly inevitable end.

He looks at the pot sitting underneath the table beside you. Bright green and lustrous, with elegant filigree of cresting waves and boats adorned with sails carrying the sun. Then he looks at the bucket by his feet, filled to the brim with broken shards of colourful ceramic, toeing it with his boot. 

“And yet,” is all he says.

You wrinkle your nose. “Those will be repurposed. That is its very beauty.”

“There is no strength in fragilities.”

You uncross your arms with a narrow look, as if he’s missed your point, and pick up a cup from the tray of bisqueware. Then, to his utter surprise— toss it casually aways from you. 

Reflex serves him well.

He catches it before it can shatter. “What—?!”

“The nature of the claypots strength relies solely on how one holds it,” you correct his previous statement. “And therefore, its value.”

Sauron looks at you then, and realises what it is you’re doing; what it is you’re asking of him. 

The thought should not have been that frightening, frankly— but there lingers still an ache in his nape and the unseen scars of a thousand daggers across his chest. There sears still a phantom hole in his beating heart, however much he decides to stubbornly ignore it.

“Trust,” he states, finally. The word sounds bitter to hear coming from him as he grips the delicate cup in his hand. “You know, I can very well crush this, Eärmaril.” 

“Yes. You could.” That is to say: Exactly my point!

He huffs out his nose, bristling. Halbrand moves over to return the cup in your palms. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

There’s the Judgement of Eru and Manwë echoing like a chorus in his head. There’s Mairon long gone, and Sauron that remains. The Great Deceiver. The one who cannot be trusted, because he had made it so with his bare hands.

“I am asking a man—”

“I am not—” A man, Sauron very nearly overrides. “—who you think I am.”

“What about who you can be, then?” You catch his wrist just before he can step back to retreat, and he can feel the ignition of a flame running through his arm like a frisson. “Isn’t that what this all is?”

“Halbrand, you told me you’ve done evil; irrevocable, irredeemable sin. Yes, so what shall you do now, then? This repentance of yours— to whom are you atoning for? The dead? The Valar? They are not here. What can they do with it? It is your life, after all, and your freedom.”

You let him go. Sauron stays rooted, prickled by how this feels alot like one of his unspoken, one-sided conversations he’d have with Uinen’s statue back at the cells.

“I will carry this regret with me forever.” His voice is heavy with a fell conviction. “It is not something your seas can absolve me of, or whatever other metaphor it is your people like to believe in.”

You hum at that. A reluctant assent of agreement. It’s infuriatingly patient. (This is an unfamiliar battleground. He’d expected you to be put off by him; to be angry— instead he’s been unsteadied with startling kindness.)

“Well, I am not asking you to forget, Halbrand. I am asking you to be free of it,” you roll your eyes, voice light and matter-of-fact. “You can choose to spend it wallowing in misery; shackle yourself to your past like a victim of your own villainy; But that would be the true evil— a disservice to those you’ve so claimed have suffered under your deeds. The real victims.”

Another voice interrupts the both of you. Apologies! says the young messenger, shifting timidly at the foot of your atelier with a scroll in hand, It is urgent. 

You wave in assent, then look back to Halbrand.

“You pace so long in your cage you’ve conditioned yourself to its unseen shadows,” you muse, and Sauron can hear your steady voice, both as delicate and as mighty as freshly-fired clay. “Remember this: What you do with the second chance the seas have granted you is what will define your atonement— nothing more, nothing less. Do not waste it on being a jailbird.”

And then—

And then.

You’re off, brushing past him like the sweetness of a saltbreeze, leaving him standing in your wake and staring at the cup you’ve left purposely behind.

It’s set precariously close to the edge of the table.

Open invitation.

(Mairon’s finger twitches in instinct.) 

He looks at the cup, and thinks, then looks and thinks again— only to conclude he couldn’t think at all, that you make it irritatingly impossible to do so. His mind is too far fixed on the fond smile of your face and your sunburst laugh carrying up the docks; the striking touch of your hand when you’d grabbed his wrist and the sincerity in your eyes.

No. He shan’t take your bait.

He ought not to entertain this little exercise of yours— this petty endeavour. Ought not to give in to this fairytale you fancy yourself a saviour in. 

He shouldn’t.

He’ll leave everything untouched as you left it.

…The cup is pushed noticeably further— safer— into the table, pristine despite the telling thumbprint of soot, by evening when you return.

You smile.

He had been unprepared for how aimless this would all feel, even in the dusty comforts of a forge and the timely strike he makes on every metal he wills to bend.

What could a great, primordial Being in the material shell of a common, mortal man do? For as much as Mairon now sought peace, he had no idea what to do with it. Where to go from here— much less begin. 

“Lost the way to your rookery, fair lady?” says Halbrand, not blinking an eye from his worktable. 

Even between the thick silt and smoke of the blazing forge, your nebulous presence sticks out in the air like a phantom itch he couldn’t ignore. 

“Do all Southlanders bite the hand that feeds them?” 

Puzzled, he pauses mid-polish of a blade, looking over his shoulder to see you’ve set a lidded claypot of what he assumes to be dinner, to heat on stray coals of the hearth.

“Wolves do,” he muses warningly, going back to turning his sword in his hands to scrutinise it for any flaws. “They tend to have an appetite for harmless little seabirds who don’t know any better than to fly too close to the snap of jaws.”

You laugh.

It feels like a tender caress.

Halbrand fails to resist the urge to turn to the honey-sweet sound.

“I suppose a hound was, indeed, how you looked like,” you tease, feigning distant recollection. “Locked in a cage, backed in a corner…”

He raises his brows. “I remember being right at the bars of my cell.”

“When we were at the Queen’s court,” you correct, remembering the way he seemed to shrink before you when the guards had unshackled him. “I didn’t mean the prison. Though— ah, pass me the tongs, would you?— you did look quite like a wet dog in there, too. ”

The casual request knocks him from getting scathed at the passing insult. He passes you the tongs, and watches as you use it to lift the lid of the claypot and examine the braised Snapper between the steam, before setting everything back down, back wholly turned against him.

Something about how easy you move around him, how easy it is to turn your back towards him so calmly— flickers a spark of annoyance in him. It isn’t so much that he felt less of a powerful being around your aloof-self— he still is a Maia, after all, even if constrained in certain aspects; and his entire plan is to appear mortal, anyway— but moreso in that you are vexingly… trusting? Foolish? 

“Shall I toss the spoon?” you heartily jest. “I imagine Great Halbrand the Wolf hardly needs one—”

“I’ve had time to think,” he interrupts rudely, finally putting aside his sword to cross his arms accusingly. “That if it’s not 'grand adventure and finer things' you seek, seabird, that it must then be something much more intangible. Personal.”

“So tell me, what do you expect this kindness will bring you? Is this your version of penance? Are you— as you’ve so eloquently described it— defining your atonement?” He dips his head to meet your gaze from where he’s leaning against an anvil, and the firelight paints him razor-sharp. “You pace a cage of your own, too, Eärmaril. I can see it.”

A beat. If you had been rattled, you didn’t show.

You look up at him, and your face is impassive. 

Sauron decides, then and there, that he hates it. He’s decided a lot about you, lately; That he detested your courage, your blind faith, your pestering kindness, and your utter unpredictability— though none so much as the look on your face here and now: startlingly dim and devoid of your usual sword-bright light. 

He has half the mind to rescind his words.

“I’m glad to see you’re not your old Master, Halbrand,” you comment, and mistake the flinch he’d made for a timely shift in his weight. “Who was as pitifully brittle as a sand dollar and outwitted by something as simple as clay.”

“Yes, I pace a cage. But it is not entirely of my making,” you allow, and leave out: Not like yours. 

Unlike him, your cage is being unhistoried and irreconcilable, found as a waif with no one but a white seabird standing guard by moon-water and jagged black rocks. Your cage is a sandbar between diaspora and anemoia, appearing and disappearing now and then like the ebb and flow of tides.

“So no, it is not an atonement, rather a purpose I have given myself. Something you ought to do, really, lest you become aimless.” 

Too often do mortal men reduce regrets into nothing more than abstract performance; do not tread the erroneous path of causeless martyrdom— is probably the more appropriate way to warn him, but you decide against that. 

“Is that what I am to you, then?” he finds himself snapping, the same tone he’d used on Galadriel when they’d been stranded at sea on that raft. “A project to bide your time with? A means to an end?” 

“No!” you bite, aghast and suddenly severe. That jars him. He very nearly averts his gaze when you level him with a stricken look. “You’re my—” 

—Friend, you mean to say, just before you felt dwarfed by the admission. I hoped for us to be friends.

You let it hang tenuously in the air instead. It’s the first he’d ever seen you look so small.

“You have far too much faith in the hands of others,” Sauron begins, calmer now. He remembers the light weight of a white cup in his grasp, the thin daintiness of its handle. “Trust broken is far worse than trust never first given.”

(He’s far away again, with a carafe in his hands, by a shape upon a dark and nameless peak.)

“Yes,” you recognise. “Though one would lead a terribly lonely life without taking that risk.”

“But I will leave you be, Halbrand, if you so desire. You need only to tell me,” you say, solemn and abrupt. “I can go back. I can leave you; to your hammer and your tongs and your metal; like the lone wolf you fancy yourself to be.”

Your expression is solid— but not cruel. 

He doesn’t think you’re capable of that, now that he thinks about it. 

You’re not like Sauron, not like him.

He is a Smith, after all; And Smiths value strength and resilience above mercy and benevolence. Every hammer strike must be measured and every blade sharpened to its finest point. Mairon is born with the endogenous instinct to craft nothing short of mastered perfection and intention; and more often than not that calls for an unyielding, iron fist— to control instead of cradle as you do.

(The claypot is spared the dilemma of the steel sword; that is, preservation of peace through necessary violence.)

It’s no wonder Morgoth was quick to corrupt him into Sauron; Into a Being with too cruel a grip, too demanding a voice, too pragmatic a soul and too utilitarian a heart. 

And yet—

“…No,” he remarks quietly, suddenly inconceivably panicked at the very thought of you (and your light) turning away from him. 

But his answer had made him feel too vulnerable— too exposed, and so he says, “My days of commanding people are over.” And is quick to deflect before you could question him, by going: “Regardless, I hardly believe it’d take that little to stop a pesky seagull.”

“Seagull?” you hiss, diverted by the non-sequitur. “What happened to seabird?”

“I see no difference.” 

You scoff, but without heat. It relieves him more than he should’ve allowed it. “Then you’re a—! How does the saying go? An albatross around one’s neck. Except you’re the albatross, and you’re around your own neck.”

You childishly swat at the space between you, and with it went the uneasy tension in the air as a gust blew in. It had simmered the furnace, and he caught the scent of you between the coals and the dish you’ve slid off it, and he found you smelled like your earthen clay and the salt of the seas.

You smell like— not life, per se, but the very act of living.

“I was like you, once upon a time,” Sauron blurts. “Young and unbearably credulous.”

“You mean young and at peace.”

An indefinable muscle tics in his jaw. “Peaceful, but not as ignorant.”

“You’re just cynical.”

“I’m a realist!” Mairon states, sounding offended. 

“Pessimist.”

“Agree to disagree, then,” Halbrand finally sighs, rolling his eyes as he uncrosses his arms after a dismissive wave, feigning surrender. 

Your eyes reflexively travel up the rugged curl of them, before settling on his face. You’re surprised to see there’s a ghost of a smile across it— As if he’d enjoyed the mindless banter.

“Very well.” You offer a friendly shake to end the mock-parley, only to catch him by surprise when you playfully tug him a step forward after he meets it. 

“What?” blinks Halbrand, after a quiet moment.

“You look different in the forge,” you say fondly, looking up at his towering figure, “Less a jailbird, more a… More at home, maybe. Walls down.”

There’s green in his eyes— Viridian. Verdigris. Otherworldly, almost. You never quite noticed it until now, this up and close to him. It’s beautiful. (He’s beautiful.)

A powdery streak of black soot marks the smooth of your skin now. It feels less like a dirty stain, and more like a sacred covenant of sorts— as if both of you have piously hallowed into your bones the dawning of something he couldn't quite yet fathom; as if an uncrossable threshold has miraculously been crossed, or an act set in sacrosanct motion, and neither of you could ever turn back from here.

It feels like a bind.

“Walls down…” Halbrand repeats, voice a low rasp that sends a shiver through you. His thumb slides tentatively across your forearm as he hums. “Must I put them up, Eärmaril?”

Your voice is endearingly light. 

“Not around me. Didn’t you call me a harmless little seabird?”

Then you’re laughing. Soft, susurrus, dulcet; Fair as the sea and sun—

And a terrible, fleeting catharsis blooms in Mairon as he realises: it’s a sound he doesn’t mind drowning in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I touch you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... Would you come closer?” 

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

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

“Show me your chest and torso.”

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

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

“Can I touch you?”

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

“I know…” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you know of Sauron your majesty?”

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

Adar.

“Call me Halbrand.”

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

“Halbrand… Please tell me about Sauron.”

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

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

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

In my dream. 

How could he have known about it? 

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

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

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

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

“Halbrand.”

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

“What is your name, Sweetling.”

He asks, his tone careful. 

“(Y/n).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You say that you wanna go To a land that's far away How are we supposed to get there With the way that we're living today?

Resting on her thighs, Y/n waited for Gil-galad to release his painfully hard cock before she laid her legs on either side of his waist. Lowering herself, his cock filling her thoroughly, a loud moan bubbled in her throat while she stilled her body to adjust to his large size. Gil-galad groaned, his head thrown back, exposing the veins in his neck as Y/n desperately clutched his clothing for stability. “Gods be good. Just like that, my love.” Gil-galad gasped; a sharp thrust from his pelvis drove his cock to hit her sweet spot, making Y/n lose her balance, scrambling to hold herself up as Gil-galad made a breathy laugh with each roll of her hips sent a pleasurable shock through her core. “So beautiful above me, using me for your pleasure. Not many Kings would allow it.”

Gil-galad grunted, earning a sigh from his wife. Her eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the waves of euphoria flowing through her. Gil-galad’s hand lay on her stomach, and Y/n’s fingers were lacing with his in a loving grip. Her eyes opened, a sharp gasp escaping her mouth, seeing Halbrand leaning against a tree—a dangerous smirk on his face. Rolling them over, Gil-galad ran his hand up Y/n’s thigh under her dress, exposing her thigh, his lips attached to her neck. “𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?” His voice filled her mind Y/n arched her back, her eyes falling on Halbrand, and raised his finger to his lips. “𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡?” He asked, his back falling onto the tree, sliding down to the grass, his eyes falling closed, and Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. “Gil-galad!” Y/n cried out, one hand tangled into her husband’s raven hair, the other behind his shoulder, gripping his robe tightly. Halbrand laughed, his wrists draped over his knees. “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?” Y/n felt her legs begin to quiver, her climax threatening to break as Gil-galad panted heavily. “Want to feel you come undone around me, my love.” He moaned, his lips finding hers in a passionate kiss Y/n, her tongue dancing with his, their gasps filling each other’s mouths as Halbrand’s lips ghosted over her cheek. “𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?” His fingers trailed along the collar of her dress. “𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞” Y/n sobbed her walls clenching around Gil-galad’s cock her hands gripping his arms Gil-galad’s hips turned erratic as he chased his climax filling her womb with his seed. His body shook from the afterpleasure, his head resting on Y/n’s, their laboured breathing touching each other’s lips. “I have always been the optimistic one, my dear, but I do believe you will be child this time.” He smiled Y/n felt tears brim her eyes and nodded, nudging her nose against his. “I would love nothing more, my love.” Peppering Y/n’s neck with delicate kisses, her eyes flickered behind her. 

— 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sauron opened his eyes, letting out a guttural moan as his body curled forward. His hand was sticky with his seed; he looked into his mirror. His forehead was drenched in sweat, lips red from him biting down to suppress his sounds. His chest hurried to keep up with his unsteady breaths. “How tragic, you want a woman so desperately you watch another have what you can’t. Sauron; the pitiful.” Morgoth laughed. Saruon pushed his old master out of his mind, cleaned himself from his release and adjusted his robes. The colours of beige and brown fitting for a perfect emissary of the Valar — 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬. He chose the name quite literally ‘anna’ meaning Gift and ‘tar’ meaning Lord, though some others in Middle Earth would argue it meant for of meaning to a King or High King. Running his fingers through his hair, the sun lighting the angelic-like blonde hair to match his fair form. An elf with immaculate features, he differed from other elves; he didn’t take this form just to fool those around him. He had taken this handsome form in hopes she would find it attractive. Everything he did from the moment he met her was for her only. He gently placed the half-golden crown on his head, and a smirk formed on his lips — 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬.

You talk lots about God Freedom comes from the call But that's not what this bitch wants Not what I want at all

Y/n found her hand brushing along her cheek, where she felt the caress of Halbrand’s lips. A delighted shiver travelled through her body, bringing a smile to her face. Y/n poured some water into her goblet, sipping the cool liquid and her fingers flipping through the pages of her book. “𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.” Halbrand’s voice echoed in the chambers. Y/n swallowed, her eyes fluttered and closed, and she felt the ghost touch of his hands on her skin. “You are not real. Nor are you here.” She spoke aloud, continuing to read her book, ignoring Halbrand’s alluring voice. A moment of silence fell in the chambers Y/n reached out to adjust her dress, feeling a hand grip her wrist. “𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞” His figure appeared before she swatted his hand away Y/n stood before him. “I am the High Queen. And Gil-galad’s wife, you will show me respect and give me the courtesy of leaving of my mind.” She commanded, speaking with a shaky tone. Halbrand smiled, his eyes shining with amusement. “𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭.” He whispered, a finger tracing along her bottom lip; his eyes turned soft, and he walked her back slowly to the wall. Pinning her between him and the marble, Halbrand released a shuddered breath. Y/n felt paralysed under his gaze, unable to move or run from his grasp. Halbrand smoothed his hands over her hips, pushing up her body and resting his head on hers. “𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞” He whispered again, fading before her. Y/n rested a hand over her rapidly beating heart, touching her hip, and a warmth bloomed from his touch. Pushing herself away from the wall, she paced her chambers, biting her nails nervously. “𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞” She heard him call to her. 

I want money, power and glory I want money and all your power, all your glory Hallelujah, I wanna take you for all that you got Hallelujah, I'm gonna take them for all that they got, baby

Feeling two arms wrap around her waist, Y/n let her head fall back onto a broad shoulder. “I’ve missed you” A mix of Halbrand and Gil-galad’s voices caused a moan to fall from her lips. “Want you” She murmured, spinning in their hold and kissing their lips with a fevor. Sweeping her into their arms and carrying her to the bed, Y/n gasped, feeling light-headed. The sound of her dress tearing didn’t bother her. Craving the man's attention before her, she needed to feel something. Anything. “𝐒𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞” Halbrand’s rough tone made her shiver her fingers threading through his brunette hair his mouth attached to her thigh biting down leaving a mark on her porcelain skin. “Yes!” She cried, the contact of his tongue meeting her aching core making her body jolt a chuckle leaving Halbrand his tongue greedily lapping her arousal leaking from her needy cunt. Gazing down, her eyes were met with her husband’s, a sharp gasp escaping her one hand gripping the bed in a fierce grip. Her legs sprawled out, her desperate whines filling the chambers as the man between her legs ate her out. 

“Been thinking about you all day, my love.” Gil-galad mumbled into her cunt. The vibrations through her core made her sigh. Arching her back, her hips rolling against his tongue, she couldn’t tell what was genuine or a dream. It all felt so real even if it was a dream. “Gil-galad!” Y/n whined, her fingers holding his head, rolling her hips harder against his face. His nose nudged her clit whilst his tongue delved into her entrance, moving his muscle in circular motions; his head moved from side to side Y/n dared to look down at Halbrand’s piercing ocean eyes staring back at her. His eyes sparkled something animalist and wild behind the stare as he grinned, cupping her ass and pulling her closer, the loose strands of chocolate curls falling over her hips—a hungry growl emitting from his chest, positing himself further up her body—𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲. Halbrand threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling away his lips and chin glistening with her arousal.

“𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.” His lips curled, his hands gripping her soft flesh tightly in his grip. His eyes grew dark, jaw tightening, and his features almost turned possessive. The image made Y/n’s heart skip, not of fear but in delight; Halbrand could sense it; he licked his lips. His mouth moved, but with no sound came a sinister smile decorating his lips. Y/n blinked; the image of Halbrand was replaced with Gil-galad looking back at her with a creased brow. “Have I done something to upset you, my dear?” His gentle voice filled with concern; Y/n shook her head, and her husband crawled up to press his lips to hers.

“Do you wish for me to carry on?” Y/n nodded silently. Gil-galad grinned, kissing down her body Y/n felt her body collapse onto the bed. Gil-galad’s mouth latched onto her cunt, this time with more vigor. Screwing her eyes shut, Y/n whimpered, a chorus of moans and spills of her husband’s name filling the room. Lapping at her cunt greedily, the debauchery of his tongue meeting her wetness seeping from her entrance, making her head grow fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. Swinging a leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer, smothering his face between her legs, her husband gave a pleased moan, his hands massaging any part of her flesh he could hold. 

“Anne- me your pleasure, mime mel.” {Give me your pleasure, my love.} The heat pooled in her lower abdomen, growing fierce, her impending peak coursing through her. Holding Gil-galad’s head within her hands, she rocked her hips faster, a shattered cry escaping her mouth. Her back arched, and a quiet sob filled her throat. Gil-galad eased her through the aftershocks of her release, slowing his movements to gather all her arousal, not letting a drop go to waste and kissing her thighs, trailing along her hips up her body, peppering lovebites along her neck. Y/n wrapped her arms and legs around her husband’s body, breathing in his earthy scent. “I believe your talent with your mouth is arguing and commanding. But mayhaps this could be a close second.” She teased her husband, their lips meeting Gil-galad growled with his chest at his wife’s tease. “How dare you?” He gasped with a mock facial expression. Y/n gave a soft pout, her finger trailing along his bottom lip, catching the tip between his teeth. A mischievous glint caught in his dark eyes. Releasing her finger, he began to tug at the corset laces of her dress. “Well, in that case…” He sat back and unlaced her corset roughly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Raising a brow, he smiled down at his Queen, her eyes wide with anticipation. Swallowing nervously, her lips parted to allow a shaky breath to fall out. “I should show my wife what else my talented mouth can do.”

— 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐨𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sauron watched the molten metals pour through the deep circular mould, his eyes analysing the measurements carefully. Balancing with the slight inclusion of mithril, the metal melted seamlessly into the combined metal to form the next ring. Celebrimbor sat beside his friend; his brows creased in curiosity as he watched Sauron create. “If I might be allowed to ask Annatar, this design is not for one of the seven rings, isn’t it?” Sauron smiled, shaking his head and holding the sheet of paper in his hand. “No, it is not. It’s a special ring, designed for only one person in mind.” He showed the elven smith. Celebrimbor admired the intricate details and the beautiful craftsmanship. Celebrimbor was blown away, and a smile appeared on the older elf’s face. “Might I ask also who this special ring is for?” Sauron looked at his friend, and a dreamy sigh fell from his parted mouth. “The most beautiful woman the Valar has graced me with. I intend to ask for her hand; I only pray she will say yes.” He gazed back into the pool of molten metals. Celebrimbor placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You truly love this woman, don’t you, Annatar? An emissary of the Valar fallen for a mortal.” Sauron nodded. “With all my heart and soul. Although in the Valar, we do not normalise love and lust physically, since my arrival, I have felt nothing but longing. And this woman, I cannot be without her. She is my light. The very reason for my existence. ” He expressed with a light laugh, resuming his work. Celebrimbor nodded silently, removing his hand from Sauron’s shoulder. “Well, I look forward to meeting this exceptional woman of yours. Do not be ailed, but I’m sure she will say yes.” Sauron watched the elven smith retire for the evening, the dark lord’s focus drawn back to the ring he was crafting.

Taking a small blade, he cut his palm, his black blood oozing to the surface of the fresh wound. “Za nazg symbolises izub prakhum, devotion, agh everlasting loyalty u the ash amirz holds izub hun agh soul. Let za nazg krimp to u izish as izg krimp to u myself. Za nazg creates a bond u entwine izubu shum beings sha for uluk eternity. Izg, sauron, will it sha uluk izub fuk within izish. For she shall be zo, agh izg shall be tob.” {This ring symbolises my love, devotion, and everlasting loyalty to the one who holds my heart and soul. Let this ring bind her to me as I bind her to myself. This ring creates a bond to entwine our very beings together for all eternity. I, Sauron, will it with all my power within me. For she shall be mine, and I shall be hers.} Sauron’s black speech echoed eerily in the forge his blood dripping into the melted metal, the slits in his eyes forming, the green faded, replaced with the burning colours of a roaring fire. Glancing down, Sauron gripped the mould with iron pliers and into the ring mould, the cold water surrounding it cooling the metal immediately as the silver band took shape. Eyeing the elegant ring within his fingers, he saw the smooth finish of the silver band glittering from the fire’s light. Placing it on the ring stand at his desk, Sauron walked onto the balcony; resting his hands on the ledge, he breathed slowly. “𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.” He murmured into the wind, carrying his voice, knowing it would reach her ears. He could sense the conflict in her heart; he was succeeding in his plan. When her King was fighting a losing battle, Sauron could almost feel guilty for him—𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲?

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

My lips part, my eyes wide as he watches me in quiet satisfaction. As if he’d never seen me at his mercy before. I whimper, my back arching into him as my body threatens to spill over the edge. Another chuckle escapes him as he watches the desperation overtake my face. 

“Go on my love, cum for me.” 

He rasps the words as his hips roll with one final thrust forward, my body unable to last a second longer. My lips find his as I cum, my walls fluttering around him. He kisses me back with as much passion as I give him, cumming with me with one final thrust. For a moment neither of us speaks, we just breathe together, our bodies settling as we lay together. With a final twitch of cock, he pulls out of me and lays next to me in the bed.

He lies on his side as he stares at me as if I’m the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen. His fingers trailed up my stomach, slowly moving up and down my bare body. I feel his eyes roam over every curve of my body. There was a time when I felt insecure under his gaze when I felt as if I wasn’t worthy of such an affectionate stare. Especially with the scars along my body, the deep dark marks that traveled over my chest and stomach. The places where Morgoth had tortured me in my years in his service. There was a time when I didn’t let Mairon see my scars, but after we started seeing each other it became impossible to hide from him.

 Not when he wanted to have every single inch of me. 

“My coronation will be tonight and I want to introduce you as my queen.”

His words are sweet, but I do not know how the Uruks would receive it. They did not respect me. A simple messenger who warmed Sauron’s bed. Surely I was not a suitable option. 

“Mairon, I do not think anyone would find me to be a suitable option for you.”

A quiet rage enters his eyes when I say this. Not because I have upset him, but because he knows that I am right. His brow furrows, as his eyes focus on my body once more, his hand never ceasing its movement along my skin. 

“I will kill anyone who dares to question my choice. (y/n), you are the only one I want. The only one I will ever want. I am yours and you are mine. Nothing will change that.” 

When he says this I feel my eyes begin to water. Emotion overtakes me before I have the chance to conceal it. He was the only one I had ever been with. The only person I loved and trusted above all else. I would follow him everywhere. 

“You are the only one I will ever want too. I am bound to you for the rest of my life.”

The words catch in my throat as I say them, but the tenderness draws him in closer to me, his body pulling mine in against him. The warmth of his body makes me feel safe and secure. In this bed, I feel as if I am home. 

“Only blood can bind my love…”

He murmurs lightly as he kisses the side of my head. I feel my eyes flutter closed when he says this. His proximity is intoxicating as always. 

“... Would you bind yourself to me?” 

He asks, his voice light. As if speaking any louder would scare me away from his question. He knew the answer without me saying a word. But before I can say anything another voice enters the room. 

“My lord…”

Adar’s voice sounds from across the room. My body is exposed for him to see, but I lay there unmoving. Wrapped in my lover’s arms. 

“... I have Morgoth’s crown. It has been resized and is ready for your coronation tonight. Would you like me to put in the great hall?”

Mairon’s eyes remain trained on me as his smirk grows. He’d been as ready for Morgoth’s fall as I had been. Under his rule, we had both suffered greatly and now it was a chance for us to start fresh. 

“Yes. I will meet you in there to discuss arrangements in a moment.” 

His tone is short when he speaks. A dismissive tone that Adar knows too well. That he has been excused. It’s only once we are alone once more that he speaks again, his lips finding the side of my head once more.  

“After my coronation, everything will change. I will make you my queen and I will be your king. Together we will bring peace to Middle Earth.” 

I let his promise hang in the air as I hold onto him. I knew that with him as my lord things would finally get better.

They had to…

… Right? 

–

1500 S.A.

I awaken with a jolt of panic, gasping for air as if I’ve been held beneath water. For a moment I forget where I am as the dream I’d awoken from slowly begins to fade. Light streams inside the tent, touching the foot of my makeshift bed. I feel the unease engulf me as I try desperately to breathe normally once more. 

“Bad dream?”

The soothing voice of my companion roots me in reality as I force myself to meet his gaze. Adar’s eyes look at me with great worry, his brow furrowed as he sits down on the bed next to me. Without speaking, his hands reach for mine, the pads of his fingers are rough against my fair skin. 

“It felt so real.”

I whimper through shaken breaths and forming tears. The dream had felt so real. Like a long-forgotten memory. I felt every emotion, every touch, every gasp, and every kiss. I felt the man from my dream as if he’d been there with me. And the loss of that realness shook me far deeper than it should have. At my side Adar sighs, pulling me from underneath the covers of our bed and guiding me to straddle his lap. His hands find my face as his eyes lock with mine. 

“You’re here now (y/n). That dream cannot hurt you anymore. I am here and I’ve got you.” 

His words are a kindness that I desperately needed. I give him a feeble nod before leaning in to press my lips to his. As if his kiss could take away the void the dream had put inside my heart. 

Adar had taken me in and had always taken care of me after a group of men had murdered my elven parents and destroyed my childhood home. He had become my home in a time of great darkness and I owed him my life. 

I would do anything for him and he knew it. 

The kiss deepens as his hands find my long dark black curls, entangling his fingers in the strands as I draw my body in closer to his. I feel him groan against my lips, his desire for more matching mine. 

“As much as I want to continue this…”

He growled against my lips, his breathing as ragged as mine. 

“... I do need your help with something else. And I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

At his words, I pull back to look at him. His eyes glazed over with wanton desire. Whatever he wanted me to do better be worth stopping us from continuing. 

“What do you need me to do?”

I ask, my breathing still uneven. The early sensation of the void slowly started to creep back in. Adar looks at me and gives me a small smile before tucking some of my hair behind my ear. There is an adoration in his eyes that makes me feel worthy of him. 

“The king of the Southlands turned himself in. He claims that he has news on Sauron’s resurgence. So far he hasn’t been forthcoming with what he knows. I was thinking he might prefer a prettier face to confide in.”

The mention of Sauron causes a chill to move up my spine. Sauron had been before my time, but I’d still grown up hearing the stories. The horrors he brought to Middle Earth and the bloodshed that he left in his wake. The very one Adar hated above all else.

“I can try to get him to talk to me, but I make no promises that I’ll be successful.”

My eagerness to please him causes his smile to grow as he presses his lips back to mine. This kiss is nothing more than a quick peck but the desire that had brewed between the two of us moments ago still lingered. He clenches his jaw as he looks down at me, our lips mere inches from each other. He is torn between what he wants to do and what he needs to do. 

“I have faith that you’ll be more than a little successful (y/n)...”

He pauses, his hands slowly moving from my hair to my torso. He holds my body in place as his hips buck up to grind his hardened member against me. I feel the shutter move through me as he smirks at the way my body desperately wants him. 

“... And once you’ve finished doing your part, I promise to reward you.”

I cannot help the smile that forms on my lips as he gives my bottom a playful squeeze. A giggle falls from my lips, a sound that makes him smile too. A sweet smile, one that left no indication of the dark things he’d done in his past. One that he reserved only for me in the privacy of our tent.

“Wear the dress I gifted you for your birthday. That dress could make any prisoner confess their darkest sins.”

I feel my cheeks redden at his words, my hands playfully smacking his chest.

“What works for you doesn’t necessarily work for everyone my dear Adar.” 

He shakes his head in an amused protest before allowing me to move off of his lap to ready myself for his prisoner king. He watches me closely while I move around the tent to gather everything I need. I couldn’t explain the way it made me feel to be under his gaze, but he always watched me in quiet fascination. 

Like I was an anomaly come to life. 

Like there was something about me that he knew that I didn’t have any knowledge of.