I read your entire Enslaved by Kings and Dragons story and I have to tell you this - you are one of the best writers I have ever come across. Hands down. like WOW. W.O.W. I am defiantly going to read Valkyrie, but are you going to do the second ending to Enslaved? I can't wait for more! I also seriously might have to draw scenes from Enslaved . . .
Sorry for taking so long to get to my inbox, I have so many messages and I don't know how old anything is [sobs in being absent]
The endings to EBAK are here:
ENDING ONE - WHAT THE HEART WANTS
ENDING TWO - YOUR HEART IS MINE <-- this one is the most requested one, I think.
The full list of EBAK Chapters can be found here:
INTRO
"Lost traveler, you say."
The king of Mirkwood smiles kindly down at you, but his gaze is ice. The guard hands him your knapsack, and
Enslaved by Kings and Dragons- [Your Heart Is Mine] - ENDING TWO
[note: please catch up on what happened in the prior chapter, or read the full fic so you know what’s going on ;)]
Your king. Your love.
Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.
"...Give me the ring," Anon screams at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"
Dazedly, Legolas wrenches at his finger and presses the ring it on her palm. The emerald flashes black as Anon slides it onto a slender finger. For a second, she stands there, admiring the ring she had coveted for so long.
"Thranduil is gone. I have mothered his heir, and hold his father's ring of power. I claim Mirkwood as its rightful Queen."
"No!" You moan.
With her head held high, she surveyed the soldiers with coldly, daring them to challenge her. None did.
Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.
You have done well, Anon. You shall be my queen, rule by my side. Together, we will raze Middle Earth and build a new world in its place.
"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"
She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.
"What is power, when I can never have your love?"
I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.
Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."
Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.
"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.
How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?
Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.
The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.
“Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"
She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.
"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."
"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."
Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.
"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."
"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"
Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.
"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.
"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."
Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.
Love.
Sacrifice.
A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.
"Use my heart. Bring him back."
"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"
"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.
"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.
"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."
Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.
"No, my son. It is time I made things right."
Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.
"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"
"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."
You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."
She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.
Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.
"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.
"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."
You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.
Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.
"...Let's go home," you murmur.
Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.
"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."
You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.
"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"
From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.
"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.
"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"
You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.
"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."
Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.
"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.
"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.
Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.
"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.
"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.
"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"
You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."
He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."
"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."
Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.
His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.
"...How far are they...to the mountain?"
Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.
"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."
You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.
"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."
"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.
"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.
“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.
“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.
He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.
“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.
You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.
Across the lake, a white elk stares at Erebor in the distance, his heart empty but for a slight pang of unexplained emotion. He turns away, and heads home to Mirkwood.
Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. The Dark Lord lifts his hands, casting snarling shadows towards the elven prince. Anon throws herself before her son, gathering the shadows to her in a mad embrace.
“You have prevailed, Sauron,” Thranduil says slowly, stepping forward. “But it is not her you desire. It is the might of Mirkwood unified with a dragon that you want. Release her, and the might of Mirkwood is yours to command.”
He falls to one knee, and offers his sword to Sauron. “For her freedom, I pledge my allegiance to you.”
You stare in horror as the rest of Thranduil's men follow his lead, knees in the dirt and weapons in the air in surrender.
"There is no freedom, under the shadow of Mordor!" Cumbersmaug growls, eyes flashing. "You think surrendering the might of elves will keep her safe?"
Of course it will, Sauron purrs, his voice as soft as a blade across one's throat. The world will burn with the inferno of Mordor; all that stand against me shall be reduced to ash. Follow me, and the girl shall be spared. All that she loves will be spared.
"...Shall you stand by my side, and protect her?" Thranduil asks quietly, staring unflinchingly at Cumbersmaug. "...Or shall we perish here together?"
They stare at one another, the silence between them as heavy as death. Finally, Cumbersmaug closes his eyes, and jerks his head in a curt nod. In that instant, Thranduil leaps in the air and slashes down on the Dark Lord with violent hatred. On cue, Cumbersmaug yanks you away, shielding you with his body. His men whirl into formation, swords flashing, slicing away at the Dark Lord.
"You know nothing of Mirkwood elves, Sauron!" Thranduil hisses through clenched teeth as he hacks away mercilessly. "We will die before we surrender to evil!"
Sauron laughs, his form fading in and out like wisps of smoke. Then DIE!
A black thorn shoots from the sifting darkness, straight into Thranduil's heart. There is a shuddery gasp as he falls to his knees, staring disbelieving at the gaping hole in his chest. Then his eyes rolls back, and he falls over, lifeless.
"NO!" You scream, lunging for him, but Cumbersmaug holds you back. Legolas lets out gut-wrenching cry, and tries to grab a sword from one of the soldiers. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.
"...Give me the ring," Anon rasps at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"
Dazedly, Legolas hands her the ring. She slips the ring on her finger, and dark power crackles about her like fire. Cumbersmaug curses under his breath, and his arms tighten protectively around you. The Mirkwood elves back away in uncertainty, swords raised defensively.
Anon slowly turns towards the Dark Lord, green eyes gleaming.
"I have served you for many, many years, my Lord," she breathes. "I have given you my body, my soul. All I have asked for in return is your love. You do love me, don't you?"
Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.
All gods love their creations, no matter how wretched they may be. I have kept you alive, despite your many failures. Is that not testament enough?
Anon closes her eyes and lets out broken laugh.
"My son has taught me love to be unconditional sacrifice. I know now that neither you, nor I, will ever be capable of such true emotion."
With a shout, she directs a dark fireball into Sauron. There is a ear-splitting roar as Sauron dissipates into ash and is blown away.
"Is he gone?" Cumbersmaug demands sharply. Anon closes her eyes and shakes her head.
"You know He will awaken again, in time."
She kneels down, and carresses Thranduil's cold, white cheek.
"...Bring him back!" You shout, lips trembling. "That ring has the power-"
"-to bring back the dead? Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic. It is a broken, dead thing now." She holds out her palm. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey. "But I have no need of the ring. I know spells. Dark, terrible spells that can revive your precious king."
"Then do it!" you snarl angrily.
Anon bends down and takes Thranduil's dagger, tracing the sharp blade with her fingers. "Sacrifice. That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "My heart is bound to his; he will live, if I give him my heart."
Your throat is dry as you watch her raise the dagger to her breast. "...You will die."
"Yes. But his heart will be mine, and he will never love you again."
Anon smiles cruelly. She pulls the dagger from Thranduil's sheath and examines the sharpness of the blade. "Unconditional sacrifice. He would give his life for yours. What would you give for his?"
"Anything," you say firmly, and Cumbersmaug grips your shoulders.
"I will not allow it!" He growls. "I will not have your sacrifice your life for another!"
"As if I would kill her and make her some sort of martyr for him to pine over for the rest of eternity," Anon snarled. "I merely ask for what is rightfully mine."
You stare at her uncomprehendingly, and she smiles cruelly.
"I will bring him back to life. In return, you disappear from his life forever. I will be Queen of Mirkwood, unhindered and unchallenged. I will resume being the singular light in his life, and you will be nothing but a distant memory."
Legolas staggers over and clutches at your arm, eyes red and frantic. "I cannot lose him," he pleads. "If you ever loved him, please..."
You close your eyes. You know you must let him go, if he is to live again. You lean down and kiss his forehead, whispering the words in your heart you never had the chance to say to him and never will have the chance to. Then you stand up and take Cumbersmaug by the hand.
"Let's go back to Erebor."
Thranduil woke with a horrible pain in his chest. Beside him lay Anon unconcious, a bloody mess at her chest.
Legolas: "Ada, she took a piece of her heart and placed it in your chest. It almost killed her, but we were able to revive her and you."
He staggers to his feet. "...What about the girl?"
"She's gone. She left with her dragon. Your wife risked her life for yours. Please don't speak of the human again. For my sake, please do not find her again."
Sometimes you feel as if you are being watched, catching a glimpse of a snowy white elk from the corner of your eye.
Did you think I would be so easily betrayed?
Thranduil's cry is choked by the gurgle of his blood.
He falls to his knees, his hand reaching out for you. Then he falls backwards, his eyes wide, his hair splayed about him like a halo. Then he is still, staring lifelessly at the skies above.
Your king. Your love.
Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.
"...Give me the ring," Anon screams at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"
Dazedly, Legolas wrenches at his finger and presses the ring it on her palm. The emerald flashes black as Anon slides it onto a slender finger. For a second, she stands there, admiring the ring she had coveted for so long.
"Thranduil is gone. I have mothered his heir, and hold his father's ring of power. I claim Mirkwood as its rightful Queen."
"No!" You moan.
With her head held high, she surveyed the soldiers with coldly, daring them to challenge her. None did.
Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.
You have done well, Anon. You shall be my queen, rule by my side. Together, we will raze Middle Earth and build a new world in its place.
"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"
She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.
"What is power, when I can never have your love?"
I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.
Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."
Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.
"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.
How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?
Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.
The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.
Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"
She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.
"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."
"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."
Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.
"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."
"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"
Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.
"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.
"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."
Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.
Love.
Sacrifice.
A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.
"Use my heart. Bring him back."
"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"
"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.
"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.
"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."
Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.
"No, my son. It is time I made things right."
Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.
"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"
"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."
You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."
She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.
Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.
"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.
"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."
You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.
Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.
"...Let's go home," you murmur.
Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.
"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."
You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.
"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"
From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.
"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.
"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"
You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.
"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."
Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.
"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.
"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.
Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.
"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.
"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.
"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"
You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."
He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."
"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."
Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.
His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.
"...How far are they...to the mountain?"
Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.
"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."
You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.
"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."
"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.
"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.
“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.
“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.
He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.
“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.
You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.
Across the lake, a white elk stares at Erebor in the distance, his heart empty but for a slight pang of unexplained emotion. He turns away, and heads home to Mirkwood.
Enslaved by Kings and Dragons- [What the Heart Wants] - ENDING ONE
Your king. Your love.
Fervent whispers in the night. Warm, strong arms wrapped about you in guilty possession. His insatiable love. His tortured devotion.
You scream. But there is no sound but the deafening hammering of your heart.
Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. The Dark Lord lifts his hands, casting snarling shadows towards the elven prince. Anon throws herself before her son, gathering the shadows to her in a mad embrace.
Angry black handprints appear on her delicate white neck, staining her skin like ink. Fissures of red and white spread through her flesh like the cracks on an egg. She is breaking apart, dark fire consuming her from within. Legolas wails and wraps his arms around his mother, trying to hold her together. But she crumbles to ash in his arms.
He stands paralyzed, staring at the ash streaming through his fingers. Then he falls to his knees, trembling.
The last high elf of Mirkwood, The Dark Lord sneers, circling him like a vulture. He grips his throat, and raises him high. What a pitiful, miserable wretch you are. Let your kin witness your death, so better to consider their fate.
Black handprints spread across his face, red and white cracks streaking across his skin. He will be dead, and all of Mirkwood will be lost.
“...Wait,” you murmur, and step forward. You scarcely know what it is you’re doing, but you know you must take action. Cumbersmaug tries to stop you but you are too fast for him. You give him a sad look, then slip Sauron’s ring upon your finger.
Cumbersmaug’s face turns a pale grey, and he jerks his head in dismay.
You could have been free, he says wordlessly with his expression. We could have just left all this behind, and been happy.
But Thranduil is dead, and Mirkwood is on the verge of ruin. So many people have died because of you. You have to stop the Dark Lord, even if it means your life.
“...Legolas is a high elf, is he not?” You ask, feeling the surge of power from the ring creep across your skin and take hold in dark, corrupt power. “Grant me his life to resurrect Thranduil, and I will never fight you again.”
You would trade the life of this innocent to bring back his father? How deliciously twisted.
Sauron cackles and slams Legolas to the ground.
The elven prince stares at your with eyes red from grief, tears still framing his long, delicate lashes.
“Will you not give me the chance to make things right?” You whisper, taking his hand. He holds your gaze for a long time. Then he yields, eyes rolling back and breath leaving his body.
He is dead.
There is a ripple among the Mirkwood soldiers, but you hold the life of their king and prince in the palm of your hand. You hold so much power, you feel as if you are ready to burst. But you cannot. For Thranduil’s sake. For all your sake.
Sauron’s blade slips easily from his cold, broken chest. Legolas’ life is warm around your finger, humming with promise. You press your palms against the gaping, black wound, keeping your mind as blank as a mirror so to focus.
“My Lord,” your murmur. “I fear that the power you have bestowed upon me is not working.”
Nonsense. Sauron narrows his eyes at you, his glare dangerous and cold. My ring is perfection. Its power is flawless.
“...Perhaps it is because I also wear Oropher’s ring?” You reach out and flash the fiery emerald set against the charred, wooden band. You had slipped the ring from Legolas’ hands, after he allowed the family heirloom to sap him of his life. Sauron’s eyes widen ever the so slightly.
Give that to me. Now.
You shake your head slowly in wide-eyed innocence. “...It’s stuck.”
Sauron is upon you, iron talons ripping at your fingers. Your other hand is pressed firmly against Thranduil, the Dark Lord's ring humming with power. You close your eyes, and channel Sauron’s lifeforce into the cold flesh of your dead king.
What do you think you are doing? Sauron roars, trying to wrench from your grasp. But Legolas’ lifeforce is strong in Oropher’s ring, and he knows he cannot let go. Together, you hold on to the Dark Lord, sapping the very essence of the Darkness and channelling it all to Thranduil.
There is the shriek of a thousand bats, the howling of tortured, rabid beasts. The Dark Lord writhes and twists, metal grinding against metal as He is reduced with every heaving jolt of life into Thranduil's chest. Thranduil's wounds begin to close, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. There is a ear-splitting crunch, and suddenly the Dark Lord is gone.
Thranduil stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.
"...I was reunited with my father," he whispers. "I heard the voice of my son, yet he was not with me. There was an unnatural gust of such force that pulled me away, I could not help but heed..." His voice trails off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his expression turns fearful. "...You have brought me back, but at what cost?"
Legolas.
You rush to Legolas' body, placing Oropher’s ring back on his finger. The ring shimmers, then the emerald grows dark. The wooden band splits, the magic of the ring spent completely. Slowly, Legolas opens his eyes, and looks up at you. He smiles and takes your hand and grips it tightly.
“I have had my doubts about you,” he murmurs. “But you have pulled through in our time of greatest need. We owe you our lives, my lady. I will never doubt you again.”
Cumbersmaug clasps a hand tightly on your shoulder, worry etched on his face.
“...It was a brave, brilliant thing you did. But Sauron is not so easily vanquished. He lives in shadow, and may be lying in wait-” His voice cuts off abruptly as grabs your hand.
Sauron’s ring is twisting black and red on your finger; black shadows creeping from the ring and across your fingers like tar.
You think you are safe from me? The Dark Lord’s voice hisses from the ring. I cannot be killed! You cannot destroy me!
The ring begins to smoke as Darkness curls across you and plunges into your mind.
You are the Dark God, the all-seeing eye, born of hellfire and wrath and baptized in blood. You are the ONE, the mother of decay and filth. The world is yours to tear and feast, to ravage and destroy. Once you have the one ring of power...
"Look at me," Cumbersmaug breathes, heartbreak etched in his gaze. He is gripping your shoulders and shaking you.
“...You are beauty, you are light!” He says softly. “You are all that is wonderful in the world, and more. Darkness must never take you again.”
He draws you in a tight embrace, kissing you like he will never kiss you again. In that moment you forget the fire. The red and the black. There is nothing in this world but you and your Cumber, the taste of his kiss, the warmth of his strong, safe arms. Then he slips the ring from your finger, and places it in his mouth. You are ripped from fire, and back to mortal flesh. You regain your senses just as he swallows the ring.
“What did you do?” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him.
He buckles over, clutching his chest. You can see the gleam of evil fire tearing through his skin. He is dying, Sauron’s evil eating him alive from the inside.
“...It is killing the flesh of man, but it cannot kill the dragon,” he manages, the imprint of scales flashing gold on his arms, countering the black of death. He stretches into dragon, wings wide and claws sharp.
“...Ah,” he groans, shuddering painfully. “I have lost the part of me that is most dear.”
Then he looks at you, golden eyes full of love and sorrow. The way he looks at you now, the way he kissed you before swallowing the ring.
“...Cumber?” You whisper, dread and fear eating at your insides.
"Sweet, beautiful girl,” he rumbles softly. “The one who has kept me tethered, showed me what is to love. You are my shining gem, my greatest treasure. I have held you captive all your life. I can do so no longer."
"What are you saying?" You cry. "Cumber!"
"Go to the elf. Promise me that you will live your life free and unburdened. Free to laugh, free to love. I will return to Erebor and sleep for a millennia. Until you have passed and are truly safe from the Dark Lord’s grasp.”
“No,” You whisper, tears streaming down your face. “There is still so much ahead of us! You promised you’d always be by my side...”
Cumbersmaug gives you a toothy, broken smile. “I will remain dragon forever, and must keep to myself if I am to keep the Darkness at bay. It is a small price to pay, If it means you will be safe from now on.” He turns his gaze to Thranduil, whose expression is hard and unreadable as marble.
“Mirkwood elf,” He growls, his voice thick with resentment. “I am entrusting you with what is most precious to me. In time, the Dark Lord’s evil will seep from me into the mountain of gold. You must see to it that she never returns to Erebor. You must protect her with your life.”
Thranduil says nothing, glaring at him icily. Then he turns to his men.
"...Take her," he orders. "We return to Mirkwood."
"No!" You leap from the Mirkwood soldiers and wrap your arms tightly around Cumbersmaug's snout. "NO!"
“Goodbye, my love," He murmurs, nuzzling you gently. "Remember that your dragon shall love you until the day he breathes his very last.”
Then he is gone, soaring into the air, his grief filling the sky with streaks of fire. You run after him shrieking, tears streaming down your cheeks. It is Legolas that pulls you to him in comfort.
It is Spring.
The evening wind carries the distant scent of mountain lilies into the halls of the Great Elven King. You look out into the distance at the Lonely Mountain, and think about the solitary, slumbering dragon within.
It's almost been a year since the Mirkwood elves half carried, half dragged you back to the Great Halls. It is for the greater good, they say. Cumbersmaug sleeps to keep Middle Earth safe. To keep you safe.
You wonder what he dreams of. If his mind is filled with gems and gold, or of ravaging, dark fire. You wonder if he dreams of you, of flower wreaths and the scent of a forgotten Spring.
Promise me that you will live your life free and unburdened,
he said. Free to laugh, free to love
.
When he wakes, you will be long gone. And he will be alone.
You feel the elven King's presence behind you. He is holding a thick, woolen shawl.
"It is still brisk out," he says softly, giving you a slight smile. "It would be wise to stay warm."
He hands you the shawl, taking great care that your fingers do not touch. He has been kind to you, but distant. He guards his thoughts and emotions with painstaking care, his face a cool mask of kind indifference. But you know him too well; his eyes always betray him.
"...Do you still wish to wake him?" His voice is calm, as if he were asking about the weather.
"Yes." There is no hesitation in your voice.
"...He means much to you, that you would risk the safety of Middle Earth."
You look away. How do you explain the ache of your heart, the guilt you feel? Your best friend, the only family you have left will spend the rest of your life asleep, and you will never have the chance to tell him goodbye.
There is heartbreak in Thranduil’s eyes as he tries to read your expression, to understand the thoughts that are running through your head. Alas, he fails, as he has failed time and time again.
"...I will leave you to your reverie."
As he turns away, you catch his hand. He freezes, his entire body taut. It has been a year since you have touched him, since you brought him back from the Hall of Mandos.
He closes his eyes. His palm is warm against against yours. Then he gently releases your hand, and leaves.
That night, you slip past the guards and into Thranduil's private chambers. He is standing at his window, an empty wine glass between his fingers. His tall figure is bent like a willow tree, straining against the weight of his despair. He does not look at you as you enter; rather, he stares out into the wide, open sky.
"...Have you come to bid me farewell? Your heart lies in Erebor. As it has been since the very, very beginning." The wine glass in his hand is trembling, and he sets it down.
"...You have my permission to return to Erebor,” He says slowly, trying so hard to keep his voice steady. “Go wake the dragon, if that is what your heart desires-"
His voice cuts off as you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp him tightly.
"And what does the King of Mirkwood know of my heart?" You murmur softly. "I know your woods like the back of my hand. You know how easily I slip past your guards. Tell me why I linger here, if my heart belongs to another."
Thranduil inhales sharply; the thought of you staying all this time of your own free will had never occurred to him.
"Cumber knew my heart was yours, yet still sacrificed himself for me. That is what makes his loss so much harder to bear. Forgive me, for being so consumed by what I have lost, that I lose sight of what I have. I love you, Thranduil. Now and forever."
He turns around slowly. His eyes are shining as they study yours. Then he crushes you against him, burying his head into your hair. His breath is shaky, his arms wrapped around you as if he fears you may slip away.
"So long I have watched you, not knowing whether the emotions in your eyes were a projection of my own," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "All this time, I thought you had chosen him, that I was keeping you from him..."
You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in to you. Lips parting, tongue seeking. He is breathless, fingers weaving through your hair. His body is hot and firm against yours, his longing radiating from his flesh. How he has held back from you all this time. His need, his ache. His longing that is also your longing, simmering through your very being.
He takes your hand and clasps it against his heart.
"If your heart is not ready. If you still grieve..." he chokes huskily. You press a finger against his lips, then trace down his chin, his neck. There is a want in you, a need that transcends the flesh. It is a hunger of the heart, a hunger of the soul. You slide your hands under his shirt, pulling them off his shoulders. He is smooth and muscular, his flesh warm beneath your palms. You run your fingers down his firm, broad chest, feeling the pinpricks dance in the wake of your touch. He closes his eyes, as if in pain.
“Melamin,” he whispers, his words like a prayer. “Melamin…”
He soaks in the sight of you as he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to his bed. There is no darkness between you now. Only understanding. How long has this moment of clarity eluded both you, and how it is finally found.
His fingers are entwined with yours as his presses them tightly against his pillows. He falls into you tenderly, like a leaf drifting into the open arms of a field.
His body molds perfectly to yours, curves into hollows, the soft melting into to the firm.
He remembers you, his fingers gentle in his rediscovery, his lips and tongue savoring and seeking.
And you remember him, the memory a sweet, beautiful song that you coax from his depths.
You are a delicate flower draped in shreds of ravished silk, blooming and blossoming under his care, welcoming his completion.
And he finds you, tasting your cries of fierce pleasure and echoing them in groans of his own endless desire.
He is the last missing piece of the endless puzzle, the key that unlocks the enigma of your soul.
Your name weaves in and out of his feverish gasps and elvish whispers.
You are lost in in the rhythm of racing hearts, in the song that is the wind through the forest, the rush of waterfall into the sea.
Forever, he asks silently as he drifts towards ecstasy.
Forever, you answer, and follow him.
Together, you are the shimmer of stardust, the dance of the celestials glittering in the velvety night.
You are giddy anticipation of the endless wonder that lay ahead. Free to laugh, free to love.
