The Way I Loved The Pain That Came With This, Wow Your Writing Is Amazing I CANT
the way i loved the pain that came with this, wow 😫 your writing is amazing I CAN’T
As one (Sauron x fem!Elf! reader)
-> in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar
Warnings: evil!reader, mentions of torture, basically reader takes some of his pain upon herself
Note: The evil!reader collection strikes again. Shout to this anon (again) for inspiring the Force-skype in this fic

It feels like a sickness, deep in your stomach. A piercing sense of dread made into bodily sensation, gnawing at your insides. Yet you know it is a mere echo of your husband’s pain, dulled a thousand times over before it reaches you from miles away through the bond you share.
Your beloved, you grimly realize, is suffering once more at the hands of Adar.
You are in Celebrimbor’s forge, carrying on with your duties as you would any other day when you feel it. It was one thing, pretending like you were not the wife of the Dark Lord himself, like you were nothing more than another smith working under Celebrimbor for the interminable years you had awaited your husband’s return to his physical form. But now that he had returned, and you had finally been able to touch and hold him again, it was nigh impossible to keep up the charade. Every inch of you longed to remain at his side every moment of every day, but you both knew your business in Eregion was not finished and the time had not yet come for you to reveal your true selves.
So, when Galadriel uncovered his treachery, you remained behind as he left for Mordor to plant the seeds which would result in Adar attacking Celebrimbor’s city, and his army becoming yours and Sauron’s. But at the moment, Adar still thinks your husband is Halbrand, King of the Southlands—and you can tell, from that sensation in your gut, that as expected, he has not received a warm welcome.
You are supposed to be giving shape to a piece of metal, but your movements become mechanical and your eyes unfocused as you reach out to your husband through your bond. The deeper your spirit delves towards his, the more his surroundings begin to take shape in your inner vision. You strive to carry on with your work as images flash before your eyes—dirty ground, shackles, Uruks laughing cruelly, an old man bringing down a bludgeon again and again, grinning in sinister enjoyment as he inflicts pain upon your husband, searing and merciless—
You are pushed away with a fury—directed not at you, but rather aimed at protecting you. The moment he senses your presence from afar, your husband strives to cut you off, refusing to let you experience any more than the fraction of his torment that you already have. Tears gather in your eyes, surely suspicious to any other smith in the forge who might happen to look your way, but you no longer care.
No, you think, focused only on resisting your husband’s attempts at keeping you at bay. No, let me be with you. Let us bear this burden together.
A wave of anguish rolls off him, pain of the flesh and frustration with you laced together, and it fuels a thrust of his power so mighty that it hurls you right back into yourself, staggering on your feet and dropping the hammer you were holding.
Celebrimbor calls your name from another worktable. You rush to wipe away the stray tears and compose yourself, picking the tool back up.
“Are you alright? What has happened?” Celebrimbor asks, frowning in concern as he comes to your side.
“Nothing,” you reassure him, managing the pleasant smile you’ve grown accustomed to plastering on your face over the years. “A slip of the fingers, that is all.”
Celebrimbor eyes you a bit suspiciously, but in the end gives a small shrug.
“Well then,” he says, laying a hand on your shoulder, “be careful you do not suffer an injury of the fingers.” He smiles amicably. “It would be a pity to be deprived of your talents, even for a short while.”
“Thank you, my lord,” you say gracefully, even as the words boil on your tongue. ‘My lord.’ You have only one Lord. And you should be standing at his side whilst Celebrimbor and all others address you as ‘my Queen’.
But all in due time. For now, you gather every ounce of patience within you until your work is finished for the day, and you are finally free to retire. Once in the privacy of your own chamber, you go straight to your bed and lie down, breathing deeply as you gather your concentration. This time, you intend to seek out your husband with every sliver of your conscience, not just a part of it, and you refuse to be forced away once more.
Eyes staring somewhere far beyond the ceiling, you caress the wedding band on your finger, murmuring an incantation in Black Speech to aid in this fuller transition. The bed feels as though it is falling away from you as you gracefully follow the thread connecting you to your husband. Where you expected resistance, however, only a sense of tired quiet greets you from his end. The door between you is shut, but not longer locked. You nudge at it, gently—and with the ghost of a sigh, it opens, allowing you in. You let yourself fall through, eyes fluttering shut as your body remains behind you, sound asleep in your bed to anyone who might see it.
But you are now sitting beside your husband, taking in his surroundings with as much clarity as if they were your own. They are dark and filthy, lit only by a few torches whose light reflects upon the stone walls. A warg lies chained close by, teeth bared and growling at your husband like it finds him as appetizing as you always do.
“Delightful company,” you remark flatly.
“It is now,” your husband says, his voice like nectar as he drinks in the sight of you. He is not fully pleased, however. “I did not wish for you to see this.”
“And yet you have been persuaded,” you tease.
“You were quite insistant in your request.” A smile tugs at his lips. “And I am quite unable to deny you.”
“This time, at least,” you say wryly, thinking of how callously he had banished your presence before. But any ire that might have caused you cannot help but melt at the sight of your husband in such a state. His face dirty, his beautiful lip cut and bleeding, his form chained to the wall with an iron collar around his throat as he is left to sit on the cold ground. It’s a tragedy, an outrage. It makes your heart quiver.
“Must you put yourself through this?” you ask softly, reaching out to hold one of his hands as they rest in his lap. You have some sensation of the touch, but it’s nowhere near as vivid and fulfilling as when you are together in body as well as spirit. No doubt as dismayed by this as you, your husband frowns as he looks down at your hands, intertwining your fingers tightly to wring every last drop of that phantom feeling.
“You know very well we need the Uruks to march upon Eregion,” he tells you. “For that, I need Adar’s ear. This is how I gain it.”
“Adar,” you all but growl, anger surging through you. Were your touch solid and real, your nails might have drawn blood from your husband’s skin with how furiously they dig into it. “One day, we shall watch him suffer the same fate he once forced upon you. Worse,” you add, your vicious gaze meeting his, “for it will be the very Uruks he holds so dear who shall slay him at our command.”
The same thirst for vengeance burns within his eyes. “On that day, it shall be my pleasure to hear that order from your lips, my love. For now, however...” His voice loses its fire, rueful but resigned. “I must simply endure.”
You shake your head vehemently. “No. Not you alone.” You can tell before he opens his mouth that he is doing so to protest, and you refuse to allow it. “Were those not the vows we swore?” you remind him in earnest. “No hurdle shall ever be too high, for we shall overcome it together?”
“Not like this,” he says grimly.
“Exactly like this,” you counter stubbornly.
For a moment, your eyes remain locked in a battle of wills. He knows what you are offering, and you know why he is refusing. It would be possible, through your bond, for you to share in his pain—and as any burden carried by two instead of one, only half of its weight shall be felt by each. But such a thing must be allowed to happen by the both of you, and while you are willing, your beloved still resists.
His gaze softens, seemingly in surrender.
“It is comfort enough,” he reassures in earnest, “that I may look upon your face now.”
“Not for me, it isn’t,” you’re quick to refute. However his softly-spoken words may tug at your heartstrings, you are not so easily assuaged. You lean in closer and cup his cheek, mourning how the sweet roughness of his stubble is dulled beneath your fingertips by the physical distance between you. “You know I can handle a little pain, my love,” you murmur, voice sweet and oh-so-alluring. “Allow me this gift, will you? Let us be one in torment as we so often are in pleasure.”
A low groan leaves your husband’s throat as he leans, fruitlessly, into the palm of your hand. “It is you who torments me now, my love,” he rasps out, eyes burning into yours, “for how greatly it pains me to sense your touch upon my skin, yet feel only the ghost of it.”
“Ghost?” a gruff voice shatters your moment. You pull away quickly, looking behind your husband. The wretched man who you had briefly glimpsed beating your beloved before has returned. “You talkin’ to ghosts now, your majesty?”
The scurge is mocking him, snorting out a hideous laugh. You regret that you are invisible to his eyes, for if he could see your glare, any trace of his mirth would wither and die. And shortly, so would he, if you were there in body to break his neck.
“Those are pretty words you’re tellin’ ‘em,” he goes on shamelessly. “Some poetry for a special lady, perhaps?”
Your husband clenches his jaw, refusing to turn his head and acknowledge the man’s presence. He narrows his eyes, frustrated by Halbrand’s silence.
“If you wanna get back to her, it’s simple enough. All you gotta do,” he crouches behind your husband, speaking lowly near his ear, “is tell ol’ Waldreg everything you know about Sauron.”
Oh, the irony.
Out of nowhere, your husband whips his head towards him, and Waldreg falls back with a startled yelp. You’d laugh if you weren’t so disgusted.
“Imbecile,” you mutter.
Waldreg scrambles to his feet, glaring daggers at your husband.
“Pain must be something you enjoy,” he taunts. As if summoned, a pair of Uruks join him from outside. One hands Waldreg a bludgeon whilst the other pulls at your husband’s chain. He groans as his head is yanked back, neck straining against the collar. His gaze meets yours briefly, and you are filled with such anguish and wrath, you cannot breathe. But you cannot do a thing, either, other than to keep your grip on his hand, diluted in feeling as it is, like a lifeline.
“After Lord Father releases me,” your husband growls, “I am going to kill you.”
Even as he speaks the threat, you feel his inner plea caress your mind—urging you to retreat back into yourself before you must witness what is soon to follow.
Waldreg snorts out a cruel chuckle. “Adar doesn’t even remember you are here!”
Heart pounding, you reach for your husband’s face, fingers sinking into his dirty hair as you lean over him so that your eyes are locked and you are all he sees.
“As one,” you beseech, baring your soul to him through your bond so he might feel the full might of your willingness, your craving to receive any sensation he might share with you, fair or foul.
He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping at the corner. And at last, overwhelmed by your endless devotion, he relents. He welcomes you into him wholly and pours himself into you in return, leaving the door wide open for the suffering that is to come to flow in between, each of you shouldering half of it.
The bludgeon begins to fall once more—and the pain is almost sweet when it tastes of your beloved’s soul bleeding into yours.
Next fic with same reader -> Jealousy
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More Posts from Notreallythatlost
i was WAITING for someone to write a fic about sauron with this song because it fits so perfect 😫 and this one was better than i could ever imagine

Skin and bones
Pairing: Halbrand/Annatar/We know who x fem!elf! reader Summary: Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were. Warning: I HAVEN'T WATCHED THE RINGS OF POWER. All my knowledge is based on fanfics, short scenes posted on yt and uncle google. I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind... And I don't regret anything. Inspired by: David Kushner - "Skin and bones" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist


"Y/N…" A cold shiver runs down your spine as you feel HIS hot, quiet, velvety whisper in your ear. You keep your eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see what image your mind, tired from today's meetings, has put before you this time.
For days now, your imagination had been tormenting you with strange dreams. Dreams in which you were haunted by him.
Halbrand.
You avoided speaking his true name. Somehow, the face of the one you should have hated with all your heart did not match the face of the one who had spent so many weeks by your and Galadriel's side.
And it scared you immensely. So much so that you weren't sure you could pretend to the light elf that you were haunted by the shadows of your past.
Galardiel once told you that to know true light, one must touch the darkness. But what do you do when that darkness becomes more attractive than light? What do you do to resist that magnetism? How do you enjoy the glow of pure light on your skin again when you still have spots of darkness on you in the shape of HIS fingerprints?
"Y/N." Another whisper, another brush of warm air against your cool skin, this time on your neck. Goosebumps rise up your spine, your hand shakes uncontrollably, trying to desperatly grasp something you can't see. "Let go. Just let go. I'm waiting here for you. With open arms, mime írima kal (my lovely light)."
The feathery touch of HIS lips against your earlobe sends a shiver through your body. Even though you are in complete darkness, you are perfectly aware that he is near, that his presence is right next to you.
Physically you could be miles away from each other but spiritually... spiritually he has made sure that he will haunt you every night.
"You miss me. You miss the feeling of power I gave you. The darkness you could hide in, when you were too tired of playing the hero no one appreciates as they should. Just as I miss your light. Your laugh. Your mind. Your lips. Your body..." His lips move with each sentence down your cheek and to your neck, leaving a gentle kiss as if he was appreciating your skin and paid tribute to it.
He was right. You missed this. Him. He was addictive. And like any addiction, you should cut yourself off before it goes too far... but hasn't it gone too far already?
"Do you think you can hide from me? That any elven friend of yours could disrupt my vision of you? That I would stop watching you at night in the darkness of your chambers, waiting for the moment when you finally realize that the cold you feel is caused by my lack of physical presence with you? Tell me, my beautiful, stubborn elf, when will you realize that the warmth you long for is found in my darkness and not in the light of your golden sunlight?"
You gasp as HE suddenly grabs you by the neck and uses his fingertips to force you to turn your head towards him. His mouth attacks yours with a huge force of possessiveness, anger, frustration, lust, as if he were going to conquer you by using only his soft lips and a silver-tongue trained over the centuries he spend on seducing others to his will.
And you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the next victim of his games and manipulation.
That's why you let him kiss you. Not because you enjoy it and miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You tangle your hands in his hair, shivering as you feel the cold metal of his spiked crown against the pads of your fingers.
You managed to let his guard down, letting his tongue tangle with yours in a familiar, passionate dance you used to indulge in when you knew him not as a Dark Lord but as a mere blacksmith. An electric jolt runs through you, stealing all the air from your lungs and making your mind cloud with lust—but not strong enough to make you completely forget about your plan.
Before he can realise it, you bite his lower lip and push him away from you. You summon all your power that he hasn't timed in your sleep and push him out of your unconscious mind. You can hear his loud growl of rage and the clang of his metal armour against the rocks as you fall into nothingness.
A loud thud echoes through the room you and Galadriel have rented as you fall from the small bed onto the wooden floor. You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and cursing under your breath as you wake up from yet another dream HE has taken over.
"Another one? Which one is it this week? Third?" You sigh at the question from the elf sitting on the bed across the small tavern room. You nod reluctantly and stand up, dusting off the dust and dirt from the floor.
"I'm not counting. I lost count about a two months ago anyway." You mumble, ignoring the fact that these dreams started much earlier. You turn your back to her, hiding the blush that blooms on your cheeks as you remember how… naughty your dreams were.
Before you realized that your… night visions weren't just yours, you and he… were doing all sorts of things. Most of them weren't really things you could speak about out loud. And as much as you're ashamed of them, you have to admit they were the best nights of sleep you've had since… you found out the truth about him.
"I keep wondering how he creates this connection with you? It's a bridge that shouldn't be created without… the willingness of both sides."
“It’s Sauron.” You reply, making sure to pronounce his name with just the right amount of disgust in your voice. "He has powers that allow him to break the rules. You know that."
"Still… they shouldn't be that strong."
"Are you suggesting something, Galadriel? Do you think I would really seek him out willingly? He has deceived us. He has deceived you and me. He wants to destroy Middle-earth, do you think I would willingly seek contact with him for any other purpose than to finally kill him?"
Your accusatory tone comes out a little stronger than you intended. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a few calming breaths, trying to calm the anger boiling inside you.
"I trust you. If I trust anyone, it's you, Y/N. I'm not your enemy here." She responds calmly and walks over to you. She cups your cheeks in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.
"I am highly aware." You respond and place your hands on the sides of her neck. "I'm just... tired. That's all." You sigh and rest your chin on her shoulder, snuggling into her.
You hold each other like that until she gently pulls away from you. She grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes.
"We all are. War is coming. Darkness is descending upon more of our lands. But together we will prevail. Sun and moon. We must work together if we are about to defeat him and Morgoth." Galadriel spoke, tightening her grip on your hands.
"I know." You mumble and shake your head. You remove your hands from her grip and turn to face the window, watching the sun slowly rise. “Which doesn’t mean he won’t see it coming. Because he will. We have to move faster, think five step ahead than he does if we want the light to break through his army of darkness.” You say not turning to face her since you're too afraid of what she'll find in your eyes. Galadriel sighs but doesn't try to catch your attention anymore.
"I guess we won't get any more sleep tonight. Get ready. I'll go find Erlond." She looks at you a little longer, her gaze burning on your back, but you stubbornly stare out at the valleys lit by the glow of the sun breaking through the morning mist, not yet feeling ready to face what is outside.
You breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. You turn one of the rings forged by HIM, which you have placed on your necklace, in your hands, quietly wondering if you should really do what you were about to do. But since he's decided to play dirty against you for weeks... you might as well start returning his little blows, too.
You close your eyes and place the ring on your finger. You hold your breath as the familiar surge of power makes your blood pump a little harder and your eyes sharpen to your surroundings. The outlines of the valleys in the distance become much clearer, and you can almost smell the forest that lies miles away.
You know he can sense where you are if you let him. So you take a little risk and remove the protective shield that keeps you away from him. And Sauron bursts through your slightly ajar door as if into a rabbit hole.
"If you're out there somewhere… if you can hear me… know that you've given me enough darkness to rip your black heart from your chest without blinking, mime melin cotumo."
Maybe calling him your dear enemy wasn't the best thing to end your threat, but the only thing that could leave your lips when you addressed him were such nicknames. Never the names you knew him by. Especially the name under which he hid when you so naively gave him part of your heart.
"Are you, Y/N?"
His whispered question echoes through the empty room. You immediately throw him out and slam the door on his ghostly presence, blocking his vision of you again. You want to celebrate this small victory over him, showing him that you are still in control, but you both know it's just an illusion. An illusion you're desperately trying to fall for. Unfortunately, you guess you're not as good at them as he is.

"I don't like him." You say to Galadriel, eyeing Annatar carefully.
You held little Celebrían in your arms and watched as Celeborn, Celebrimbor, and Annatar chatted in the distance, enjoying the party Celebrimbor had thrown for your arrival.
"He is… quiet around us. But that doesn't mean we have to be hostile towards him right away. We can't be overly suspicious." Galadriel says and takes her daughter from you, who begins to cry quietly. You sigh, looking at the child in her arms.
"In these times we can be as suspicious as we want, Galadriel. Middle-earth is even more divided; we elves do not have such a solid, strong united front. If Sauron decides to attack with his orcs, they will crush us one by one. We must act, not be stuck in pointless parties."
"Parties are also part of diplomacy. I'm off to melt the hearts of the ladies of other lands with this sweet little bundle. Try not to spit venom at others. We need allies, as you well noticed." And with that, she leaves you to drown your bitter thoughts in a glass of wine completely alone.
You snort, not paying attention to what's going on around you. The ring that hangs around your neck under your clothes burns your skin mercilessly as you try with all your might to push away the memories of the nap you took after arriving.
Warm, black furs clung to you as you slept soundly in your soft bed. In the background, you could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. You were tucked into warm pillows and blankets, the tip of your nose exposed to the cool air outside, being the only thing that was bothering you from resting in your bed.
After a while it turned out that it wasn't just one thing that was supposed to bother you.
You gasp as a strong arm suddenly wraps around your waist. The blankets are lifted, and the cool air assaults your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. A moment later, you feel yourself pressed against someone's bare, muscular chest.
"Is my queen comfortable enough?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and nuzzles your temple, tightening his grip on you as you try to squirm out of his arms. But he doesn't give you that chance.
He grabs both of your wrists and presses them to your chest as he straddles you. Black fur clings to his back, the only covering he's wearing.
"Do you intend to defile me in your dreams when in reality you cannot lay even the smallest fingertip upon me? You grow more pathetic with the passing centuries." You growl at him angrily, kicking beneath him and trying to break free from his grip.
"You will beg for my touch. I will make your cries heard throughout all the Middle-Earth." He murmurs a promise against your lips and leans down, capturing your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss that sets every fiber of your being on fire.
The surroundings around you change rapidly. Suddenly, you are completely alone in a black and gold throne room. The only source of light is the rays reflected off a golden throne engraved with a sun.
You glance around frantically, searching for him and a weapon you could use against him. You take a few steps back, heading unconsciously toward the two thrones on the dais. You gasp as your foot touches the tiled mechanism beneath you.
The throne room begins to change, darkness giving way to light, the black marble turning white. But the entire chamber, instead of being divided in half by two colours, blends into grey. The golden throne turns white, and the black as night one becomes a lighter shade of black, almost greige. You turn your face to the landscape outside the window and gasp at what you see.
All of Middle-earth. Divided, but still... a coherent whole. Each of the lands was arranged so as to separate races that got in each other's way, where conflict could arise. The lands of the Orcs were in a barren wasteland, where life could not have arisen anyway, but they made their kingdom on it. All separated from each other by walls of mountains so high that even from the height where the palace was located, it was difficult to see the top of their mountains and the paths of the passes.
You shiver as the heavy, cool metal of the crown settles against your temples. He quickly grabs your shoulders and digs his fingers into you. He holds you against him, forcing you to stare at the land before you, a land you barely recognise anymore.
"We could have that. All of that. I would place a crown on your head, make them all bow to you. Make them bow to us. I would heal Middle-earth of strife and war, make them all live in harmony in their own worlds."
"Would you confine them within the boundaries of their lands? What if they run out of space? Would you move mountains? Would you remake the world? You won't fix them this way; you can't avoid wars and bloodshed. Who do you think you are to decide how the world is suspposed to look like?" You ask him angrily, turning in his arms.
You bravely hold Halbrand’s watchful gaze as he analyses your words carefully, probably thinking of ways to make you join his side, ways to make you see his case in a completely different light.
And you hope you'll have the self-control to reject every single one of them - every little tempting suggestion of the future he wants to show you.
"Amil! (Mommy!)" The joyful cry of a child and the dull thud of tiny feet hitting the floor later are the only warning you get before something small pounces on your legs.
You stubbornly don't look down, but into the eyes of the man in front of you, because you know that once your eyes land on the little projection of a child he wants to show you, you'll be haunted for the rest of your life by the image of what you could have had with him.
“You won't even look at our son, Y/N?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to show him how much you don’t care or care about the future he has to offer you.
So you gather all the strength you have inside you and lean down to take the little boy into your arms. He mumbles something, playing with the necklace around your neck.
The boy has his dark hair. And your eyes. And he's too damn cute for you to ever forget the vision he shows you, that he created to torture you forever.
"How long would it take you to instill your dark, poisonous thoughts in him?" You ask with a trembling voice, giving him a look full of pain and dismay.
"I've told you many times, mime melin hon. With you by my side I would have no darkness within me." He mumbles and reaches up to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I will make you mine. Even if it was the last thing I would do. With or without your consent, I will bind you to me and make you who you were always meant to be: My queen."
You shiver as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You hold back a broken sob as the weight of the baby on your hip begins to fade and his touch becomes just a hazy memory as you wake from this beautiful and terrifying dream.
“Can you do me the great honour of dancing with you, my lady?” You shiver when you suddenly hear someone's voice next to you. You turn around and barely keep a grimace from forming on your face when the platinum hair of the hated elf catches your eye.
"Lord Annatar. I thought you weren't dancing tonight?" You say in a forced, pleasant tone of voice and nod towards the elf whose invitation to dance he declined. He becomes embarrassed at this and clears his throat awkwardly.
"I simply have been saving my first dance in the hope that my lady of the sun would consent to grace me with it." You present him with your practiced smile, internally cursing him for being so thoughtful with his choice of words. Refusing him would be like spitting in his face - something Galadriel would clearly disapprove of.
"How could I be so cruel in this situation and refuse you, Lord of Gifts?" You tease him flirtatiously, seeing an opportunity in his obvious little affection, and offer him your hand.
You tremble as an electric shiver suddenly runs through you. The strange reaction to his closeness makes your brain buzz with thoughts. Especially when the ring hidden under the material of your dress begins to heat up.
"I may be… but right now I feel like I've received the greatest gift from you, my lady." He says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. He confidently leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and being a little too close than was required for this particular dance.
His closeness overwhelms you. Not in a positive way. He seems suspiciously too familiar. Your body doesn't react to him as to a stranger; on the contrary, you immerse yourself in his touch as if it were familiar, comforting. You sense that something is wrong, but you can't say what yet.
"Do you like the rings we've been forging lately? Galadriel probably won't be too keen on his... idea."
"Because he follows in Sauron's footsteps. Perhaps we can dissuade him from this path. Together." You see his jaw tense slightly at your words. His grip on you tightens a little and he seems... flustered.
You narrow your eyes at him slightly, trying to understand his reaction, as well as why with every little touch he makes the ring on your chest burns like it's on fire.
"I truly believe we would be a great unit, úrin-o i world." You tremble when he calls you the sun of the world just as you tremble when he places his hands on your hips and lifts you.
He's in no hurry to put you down. It's as if he was deliberately prolonging this moment, and you let yourself be caught in the hypnotized state that his eyes bring you to.
For a moment, nothing exists except the two of you. It's just you and him. The dancing couples swirling around you momentarily become a blur.
You gasp when, for a moment, instead of Annatar's face, you see Halbrand. His mesmerising blue eyes pierce through you, making it all you can do to lean closer to him.
Your vision ends the moment one of the couples crashes into you. You land awkwardly on Annatar's chest, only his arms keeping you from falling. The couple apologizes and he just nods, pulling the two of you to the sidelines to a more secluded place.
You sigh, staring at him, your breathing heavy, not from the exertion of the dance, but from what you saw when you danced with him. Or rather, who.
"What are you?" You ask suspiciously, but he raises a surprised eyebrow at you, as if your sudden hostility was unfounded.
"You know who I am. Don't you, my Lady of the Sun?" You swallow hard at his question, but before you can answer him, Galadriel steps between you and him. A very angry and irritated Galadriel.
"He is of an unsound mind. How can he ignore what is so obvious? No one who follows the path that Sauron trod can call himself anything but his ally. I am leaving first thing in the morning. We cannot waste time while he is somewhere nearby, preparing an army against us."
"Perhaps you are giving him too much thought, my lady?" Annatar makes a sarcastic remark, but Galadriel ignores him and walks furiously away from the two of you, not even waiting for her husband, who has just reached the three of you.
"Galadriel..." You call out to her but she ignores you. "Galadriel!" Celeborn nods apologetically and follows the elf with the child in his arms. You stand in shock in the middle of the room and stare at the leaving elves.
"I don't blame them. You know what they're talking about... and about who they're talking." Annatar says, nodding at Celebrimbor. He stands alone in the corner, looking around nervously. "It would be best if you followed your lady." He advises you like a nasty snake that coils around your leg and whispers unwanted things in your ear.
You flinch and turn so you can fully look at him. He liked to play games. So he'll get one from you. You won't leave this palace without a promise from Celebrimbor to join you in case... if HE tries to attack.
Galadriel wanted to resort to desperate measures—she wanted to warn Adar that Sauron lived and wanted to use orcs in his plan to change Middle-earth. If you were to choose allies, you would rather heal the mind of an elf in whom you saw even a shred of light.
"I am my own lady. I do not have to follow anyone. Besides, I think you could use some help here, dear Annatar." You reply with a sweet smile. You see his jaw tense a little at your words. He clearly didn't want you around - that's why you had to stay here and see what the Lord of Gifts - the supposed envoy of the Valar was really doing in Eregion.
"Hm... that would be an honour to have you as our guest, my lady."
He says, smiling mysteriously at you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you already know that this won't be as much fun for you as it will be for him.
As if on cue, you drift off into blissful, dark unconsciousness.

"Fighting by your side… I felt like I could hold onto that feeling. Bind it in my very being."
"I felt it to." You mumble, staring at Halbrand's slightly bruised and scratched face.
You often had dreams like that. Flashbacks of past events. Sometimes they were real, and sometimes he was just playing with you in dreamland again, reenacting past events and laughing in your face, mocking you as you relived the same thing.
So I guess nothing has changed… if, knowing who I am, you still kiss me with such burning passion, my sunshine.
Cheap line. You managed to punch him for it many times. But that only seems to make him more cocky. So you stopped and instead looked for some way to get out of these dreams.
But now, as he leaned down and kissed you as sweetly as he had before... you could do nothing but moan and grab his hair in your fist as you pressed yourself against him, hating every bit of armour that covered your bodies and was separating you from him.
"The Valar must have spent aeons crafting those raspberry-sweet lips." He mumbles against your lips and cups your cheek in his hand. He pushes you back gently, your back pressing against the tree trunk you were sitting on.
You pretend you didn't notice that that little comment never came out of his mouth back then, and you take advantage of his moment of distraction. You take out your dagger and press it to his neck, pushing him away from you.
He needs a moment to process what happened. He chuckles raggedly and shakes his head slightly—just enough so that your blade doesn't even scratch his skin.
"What gave me away?"
"Sweet lips?" You mock him, pinning him against the rough tree trunk.
"I tried to be romantic with you, my beloved nemesis. Almost the same as that Lord of Gifts of yours, wasn't it?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The cocky smirk doesn't leave his face even as you straddle him with the blade at his neck. You want to pierce all of his arteries, but his comment about Annatara catches your attention more than the murderous urge he's inspired in you.
"Jealous?"
"Intrigued. Do you like him?" He corrects you and asks a question that makes you want to laugh. As if there was anyone else besides him who could hold your attention for longer…
"Are you afraid that it will take your place as the worst, most venomous snake I have ever encountered?"
"Oh please… we both know that's not the only thing I'm best at. I remember one night perfectly, when…" You press the metal of the blade to his neck and draw blood from him. A black stream runs down his skin, soaking into the tree trunk, which instantly rots. "I understand. You want to be the one to dominate today?"
You snort in frustration at him and push yourself away from him. You take a few steps away from him and watch him closely as he slowly stands up and catches up with you.
"Only if you let me plunge my blade into your black, cold heart."
"Only if you acknowledge the fact that it beats only for you." He whispers and gently cups your cheek with his hand. You tremble, unable to move away from him or make any movement except to stare at him. Anger and something else—a feeling you're terrified to admit to—boil inside you like crazy. And that's all because of him.
"As if you could love anyone but yourself." You answer shakily as he leans toward you. He kisses you again, more gently, more tenderly.
He lifts your chin with two fingers, demanding full access to your mouth, as if the way he kisses you is to prove to you that he is capable of love—that he is capable of giving himself over to a mad passion that he cannot control, as if you were truly his lady.
And it is out of fear that he will manage to squeeze out of you that little challenge that he so desires that you reach for the dagger you had abandoned earlier and brutally plunge it into your heart, bypassing the plates of your armor.
You gasp, tearing yourself out of the dream he has entangled you in, but only to find yourself in a real nightmare.
You look around in panic as you see only orcs above you. The dead body of a dark elf is being torn apart by them, as if they were performing some kind of ritual over the dead. They are talking to each other in the black language, clearly too distracted to pay much attention to you.
You reach out for their abandoned weapon beside you, but you can't move much. You groan as a foot steps on your wrist, hard enough to pin your hand in place but gentle enough not to break or crush your bone.
You lift your head and bite your lip, drawing blood when you see who is standing over you.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my sweet nemesis." Annatar says and nods to the two orcs closest to you. They walk over and hold you by the arms, lifting you to your feet.
"Sauron." You snap at him furiously, putting as much venom and hatred as you can into saying his real name.
"Hello, darling. Many years, centuries even, but it still seems like one day, right?" He mockingly responds to your seething fury. You watch him closely and freeze when you see that he holds not only his crown in his hand but Galadriel's ring as well.
He had two of the three forged for the elves. The last one... hung around your neck. And he could have taken it anytime he wanted. But he would have to pry it off your dead body if he really wanted it.
"You were more handsome as a brunette." You spit insults at him, trying to stay as calm as you can as he begins to walk forward. The orcs lead you right next to him.
"I can transform back into Halbrand just for you. Would you prefer that, my lady?" You press your lips together in a thin line, about to answer him, but he's already using his powers, and before you can do anything, Halbrand appears before your eyes.
You turn your gaze away from him and try to focus on the burning desire to draw some blood that the orcs' touch on you inspires as they lead you toward what looks like a camp.
"I'd rather have you rotted in Mordor."
"Ahh… such ugly words on such a joyous day? After all, you don't get married every day, do you?" He asks casually, too excited for your liking; if the orcs weren't forcing you towards the large tent, you would have stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the back of his head in complete shock.
"Married?" You repeat his words stupidly. The orcs hand you to him after you enter the large tent and quickly flee at their lord's beck and call. Halbrand... Sauron sets his crown down at the foot of the makeshift bed and turns to regard you, a huge, cocky grin on his face that you once found sexy. In the current situation, it only irritated you more.
"I promised you I would make you a queen. My queen. I have a crown, an army, and land. The only thing that is missing is you by my side—exactly as the Valar planned." He’s been explaining this to you for the umpteenth time, as if you were a carefree child to whom he had to explain something in a simple, banal way. You clench your fists and take one deep, calming breath.
"I'd rather die."
"No, you don't. Don't blaspheme like that. We both know that's what you want. I'm only doing you a favour by taking away your free will, giving you the illusion that I'm forcing you to do this against your will, so you don't have to feel guilty about acting on your heart's desires." He answers confidently, stubbornly, in a tone you knew—a tone he had used a thousand times when negotiating with kings, queens, and nobles.
Back then, when you thought he was just a man, you were charmed by his chearism, his self-confidence, and his unwavering actions. Now you saw how dangerous that was.
"You don't know my heart's desires." You whisper as he stops in front of you. But he doesn't move to touch you, does nothing but stand there and watch you.
You want to curse him for turning back into Halbrand and for showing you this illusion. It was much easier for you to reject Annatar than him... ironic, since it was Halbrand that betrayed you more than any other being.
"Another lie. I think you've gotten a lot better at it than I have in my absence, my dear sunshine."
You snort when he calls you that. The moment you open your mouth to answer, he leans in and steals your kiss and your breath. He pulls you to him by the material of your dress and perfectly ignores any thumps in your chest you give him. You jerk against his grip, bite his lip, and do everything to pull away from him. But he doesn't let go. Not until you're gasping for air and your lips are swollen, your clothes and hair a mess just like all of you.
"You know... I am not surprised you lied to me all this time. I mean... living for so long can trick your mind. You probably don't know your true self anymore, do you? When was the last time someone called you by your true name? Not with insult or fear, but with affection, maybe even sympathy?"
"Why? Want to change that, I úrin -o mime coiv- (the sun of my life)?" He asks, slowly pulling away from you. You ignore your instincts to follow his touch and stand frozen in place as he walks over to his abandoned crown.
"Are you just going to rule them? In the hopes that they won't kill you again? That I won't convince them to do so?"
"Fear is a powerful ally. And something tells me you'd rather have me alive than dead." He answers calmly and places his crown on your head. You frown as the cool metal settles on your temple.
You let him play with you for a moment and treat you like a doll he can do anything to. You waited for the perfect moment to attack, to throw him off balance. You wouldn't give in to him without a fight. Not when you still had at least a shred of strength to resist the darkness calling out to you.
"Not as powerful ally as love." Your response makes him more thoughtful. He stares at you, contemplating the sight of you in his crown, as if trying to forever engrave the image in his mind… to bind it to his very being.
"Indeed. But you either have one of them." He nods and runs his fingertips over your exposed shoulder. You shiver as he grazes the metal of your necklace.
"And what did you want? From me?" You see him soften noticeably at your question. Something like affection… maybe even tenderness or love appears in his eyes as he moves his hand to your neck, cupping it gently.
"You know my heart's desire, Y/N. Just as I know yours." He mumbles your name barely audible and leans in closer to you. You shiver as his bearded cheek brushes against yours, his soft lips caressing your earlobe as he whispers: "I don't have to say it out loud for you to know it."
"No… you don't have to." You respond and cup his cheek in your hand. He freezes at the sudden display of affection from you and involuntarily buries his face in your palm, closing his eyes. You lean down and press a small kiss to his cheek. He sighs tiredly, as if he had travelled a truly polynomial distance, and allows himself to melt in your touch. "Because I'd rather cut your tongue out than listen to another lie from you."
Before he can react, you're already reaching for his dagger. You press it to his neck, but he shakes off your little seduction and pushes you away from him roughly. You fall with the yak onto the mattress behind you, the crown falling off your head with a clatter to the floor as you stare at him intently, both of you aiming your blades at each other.
"In some races dagger is considered as one of the love's language." She mocks you, wiping the black blood off his neck with her free hand. He licks it off—a demonstration at which you hold your breath for a moment. Bloody bastard.
"I always preferred to consider it death's language." You respond and lunge at him again. He blocks your blade with his own and grabs your arm. You hiss at the hard, painful swipe of his fingers against your skin as he leans toward you, giving you one of his long, enigmatic, dark stares.
"You know what the difference is between me and them, Y/N? They fear you, what you can do, the power you wield with such grace, like it's nothing. But I'm willing to burn in the light of your sun if it means having you by my side."
"Rather, if it means gaining that power for yourself." You growl and kick him. He falls on his back in surprise at your strength, which you take advantage of and run forward—straight to the exit of the tent.
You run through the camp and quickly take the ring from your neck. You put it on your finger and, using the power it gives you, cast illusions on yourself, becoming invisible to the orcs. You hear Halb... Sauron's shouts behind you, ordering the orcs to find you and bring you alive to him. He himself gives chase through the forest. And you have to admit that he is not so far from you.
You run as long as your legs give you strength. You stop in some clearing with a small stream. You try to find a safe hiding place, hide, and wait out the mad pursuit. And just when you think you've made it, he emerges from behind the trees.
"Y/N! I know you are here! I can feel you! I will always..." He pauses, his voice shaking, and you realise this is the second time you've seen him so... vulnerable and open. It's a dangerous reaction from him. Either it's real... or he's using it as a card in his game to win yet another game he's playing with you. "I would make you a queen. In a heartbeat. You don't have to do anything. Just come with me."
And you really wish it were that simple. But you don't know if you could look at yourself in the mirror if you just so blatantly betrayed them and everything you know for… him and his lies. As beautiful and tempting as they were.
"Queen of slaves like you!" You scream, comming out from your hidding place and attack him.
"Yes! I am a slave! I am a slave to you, Y/N. At least I have the courage to admit it to myself and to you. And you, my queen?" He says each sentence every time your blades strike each other with a metallic clang.
"Don't forget about Mogoth, my king." You mock him and hit him more and more aggressively, each of your blows a precise attack on him.
"You're going to bind to me. Willingly or not, and I will relish every moment of it." He growls and finally knocks the blade out of your hand, and he grabs your wrists, twisting your arms behind you and pressing your back against his chest, the blade at your neck gently teasing your skin, as do his lips against your temple. "Let go. Just let go. I know you are tired. Let me help you. Let me carry for you all your worries and the hatred of the Middle-earth. Let me make you my queen. Heal this world with me."
"Only if you will made ma a crown from your skin and bones." You gasp, fighting his grip, trying to twist from the iron grip his arms have on you, but it's not as easy as it might seem. He pins you to the ground, straddling you, and stares at you, breathing heavily.
"I will wrap you in them, if that's what I need to keep you at my side!"
His cry echoes through the empty clearing. For a moment, you stare at each other, not making a move. The sound of the stream around you is the only other song playing in accompaniment to your heavy heartbeat, which you can hear in the deafening emptiness that surrounds you. The world stops. Again, when you're close to him.
"I did not desire power as much as I desire you. You hurt me more than Morgoth ever did; you poison me more than the darkness. I think of you every morning, afternoon, and night. You are like a poison that I cannot draw from myself. You are the light that blinds me, that destroys me, but I cling to it like a child in the dark. Even though the darkness has been a much longer and more loyal companion to me than you." He mumbles, pressing wild kisses to your face.
You moan as his lips and rough beard abuse your neck worse than the blade he had brought to you moments ago, which he had driven into the ground beside you. You had nothing. No weapon to attack him with, to protect yourself from his sweet lips and the burning touch that stirred desires so shameful and so familiar in you.
"A pathological liar." You gasp as he hastily undoes your dress. But you do nothing to stop him. You can't anymore.
You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the running away from him, all the fighting with him. Maybe you really were a lost cause; maybe you were always meant to blend with his darkness and try to balance it with your light. You don't know that. What you do know is that he feels too good against you for you to fight him any longer.
"Both of us. But I'm the only one here who doesn't deceive myself."
"I'd rather deceive myself than allow myself to think that I could desire someone like you." And it's awful that as you say that, you reach for him and help to undress him.
You were only proving that you really were a terrible liar and hypocrite. But how long could you hold back from touching the darkness that called out to you so sweetly?
"We both know this is much more than simple lust." He whispers, stroking your hair tenderly and pressing his lips to your forehead. His hands roam your exposed body, caressing every little part of you. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can forget for a moment who he really is—you can only see Halbrand and not HIM. "Tell me… what's it like to want to simultaneously pierce me with a sword, burn me at the stake, and cherish me in the privacy of your chambers, my dear sun?"
"Maddening." You whisper shakily, admitting what you feel.
A single tear rolls down your cheek—a tear that he quickly licks from you. He groans at the sweet-salty feeling of your tears and holds you tightly with his one arm as the other slowly begins to toy with your most sensitive place, preparing you for complete failure and defeat.
All you can feel is blissful pleasure as the darkness is touching you.
And just when he is about to bring you great pleasure, when he is about to unite the two of you as one after so long, he stops completely. You fidget, toss, and turn, seeking renewed contact with him that he does not grant you.
"I'll come for you. In one form or another. I'll make you my queen, whether you want me to or not. I may be a fraud, Y/N, but I don't have the strength to deceive myself. You'll understand when you will be my age. And I'll wait for that. I will wait for you to realise that I am the only one who sees you, accepts you, and adores you as you truly are. All you have to do is call for me." You almost cry in frustration as he pulls away from you, leaving only a ghostly touch on your skin as he continues to hold your wrists. "The sun is also having an eclipse, Y/N. I am your eclipse. And you will beg me to give you my darkness."
He places one last kiss on your forehead and then disappears. You sigh, looking around you, and realise with a shiver that he was never really there.
He tricked you. He connected with you through the ring you still wore on your finger and entered your mind as another illusion. You cry, your hand shakily pressed to your mouth as you try to keep from making any sound for fear that he and the orcs might still be nearby and sense you.
You bite your fingers as a pitiful cry wants to escape your lips; it starts as your mouth forms a cry of his name, but at the last moment you stop yourself. You grit your teeth and stand up from the ground. You dust off your dress and look around you.
The rising sun illuminates your face, but you no longer feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as you greet the morning light. You feel emptyness. A festering, burning emptiness. And the visible touch of HIS lips on your neck...
Sauron may have defeated you in your dreams and mind, but when it came to duels, when you faced each other in your own skin and bones, he lost. In the crucial moments, when he was about to make you his, you managed to slip away from him. You only fear how long you will be able to do so.
Especially since he has robbed you of all joy in the light and awakened a lust for the darkness you have touched with him...
And as you stared at the rising sun, you already knew that there would be no salvation for you, nothing that would make you forget about the electric thrill you felt every time you embraced the darkness with him.
Halbrand, Sauron, Annatar, whatever form he took, you were drawn to him. And you could either die, try to fight it, or accept it and try to save the little bit of light that was left in both of you. You didn't believe that after all the darkness he'd poured into you, he wouldn't get an ounce of your light from you in exchange. And if that tormented him as much as his darkness tormented you... then you felt at least a little less pathetic for falling in love with the Dark Lord of the Rings.
you know you have a problem when you could never deceive him to be his queen because you really want to be his queen 🫠 oh lord save me
Imagine making Sauron believe that he convinced you to be his queen...

Imagine making Sauron believe that he convinced you to be his queen...
As soon as it became clear that Galadriel's ring can heal and you could use it just as easily as her, you knew what to do. It was also too easy to make her believe that you were ready to follow her ridiculous "plan" of yet again going in head first and having no idea what she will do when she faces the being far more powerful then her, even with the ring aiding her.
So went along until you finally faced him again. He looked different, and not just for his elven features. He seemed detached, colder, darker. At lest until he looked at you with a softness that made you melt from the inside. You let it take over you.
You let in all that he made you feel, the anger, the hurt, the love that was more painful than any wound he could cause. How could he let the darkness consume him so quickly when he was the one to pull you out of your own? The plan was to cloud your mind with those feelings and your doubts so he wouldn't suspect your true intentions.
There was no faking in the way he had to lure you in, you still had your doubts but you saw no other way. Nenya showed it to you when you tried it on at the urging of Galadriel, to prove to you that the rings are not evil and Sauron cannot control them. You wasn't so sure about either of that but your mind was finally made up as you fought Galadriel for the ring and took it before taking your side by the Dark Lord.
No, not dark. You will be his light whether he truly meant that statement or not, you just have to be careful and patient, you supposed it would take longer than you anticipated and completely giving yourself to him will doom you either way but there was still hope in you.
You hoped that once you are fully bound to him your love shines bright enough to hide a steady link of healing power from the ring. You hoped that you could deceive The Deceiver with giving him what he wants and you don't have to use it against him by giving yourself up to your people, presenting the weakness he created by forming a soul-deep attachment to your very being with his own...
this. 🤧


THE RINGS OF POWER 1.03 x 2.08


The Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power Sauron and Galadriel dueling (insp) Shadow and Flame
I'm totally obsessed with him too 🫡 IT'S INSANE.
I can't wait to see what you come up with next!!!

we live in the halbrand/sauron supremacy. like literally and it’s just perfect. 🤧