I have been in hibernation for a while but anywho, I got a little too hard into JRRT esp Silmarillion and I had a hilarious idea for a fic, and a theory:
Here me out:
I will put this idea in a snippet
Please other Silm fans tell me if this would work or no
The One ring glistened on his finger, the elvish script, a longstanding, powerful language, shimmering in the brightness of the fires of Mount Doom, and the sweet embrace of darkness. His greatest work his chiefest triumph: dominion over several more kingdoms than more mortals could dream, corruption abound and bound to him alone.
Melkor- no, Morgoth, would be proud. Then again, the Darkest of Vala never shared power; no, Mairon, or rather, Sauron, had surpassed Morgoth. All would soon be in his grasp, in a way that even Morgoth would envy, that Manwe himself would fear, that all the Valar would tremble before him, the one who turned all of Eru Iluvatar's children into his slaves.
Sauron smirked, his armour shuddering with his black laugh. All in due time, of course. All in due time.
Sauron twirled the ring around his finger, his other arm wound around his helmet, a mouthless terror that amplified his commands and made his slaves cower further into the dirt. His crown would soon grace his brow as all mortals fell before it.
"Are my legions in position?" asked Sauron, turning to his commander, a hideous creature of an orc that would soon beautify itself in swallowing the flesh and blood of other, purer living things. Sauron's eyes glittered at the menacing grin as he donned his helmet, ready to meet that fool Isildur's campaign and the elves that dared to follow in some mortal's footsteps.
Sauron struck down another elf, blood decorating his sword with the all the macabre beauty of cherry wine spilling across a silver goblet- but no, this sight was far better; the dwarves, the Eastern tribes, the human kingdoms that were falling under his spell, orcs slaying men and beast alike, it was a beauty he could never capture in time, in paint, in tapestry- oh, if he could relive it again and again!
Sauron lifted his sword, ready to strike at another elf, when something stopped him.
But who could ever stop the terrifying lieutenant of Morgoth, the greatest horror of his age? The Lord of Gifts, A Great Deceiver?
No one stood in front of him. o what was this feeling that stopped him? It wasn't... no, it couldn't be!
Sauron turned his head fiercely, looking around the battlefield, his menacing form cutting through ranks of enemies and allies alike as he marched towards the source of this sensation, this coldness in his body that should not exist with the heat of victory and Mount Doom about to come.
His golden One Ring glinted in affront, the band rubbing against Sauron's sword with how tightly the Maia clenched his gauntleted fist. Sauron's steps crested the hill, and he looked down to see what it was that dared to stop him.
A sword gleamed in the distance, whilst some mortal creature dared to ride some pathetic horse across the field of battle. The mortal, a woman, came closer to the hill, riding across the valley. Her armour, gleaming in what little light the clouds allowed, protected her various weak points, but under her helmet, her eyes shone with a conviction as bright as the Two Trees of Valinor long extinguished.
'My, what a determined face. Just like Galadriel, like Feanor, like Mandos even. Does this mortal seek glory? Do they not understand death? Surely they do. How refreshingly interesting,' Sauron thought to himself, his fist loosening around his sword in amusement.
Sauron's ring pulsed. His fist clenched once more, his brow furrowing under his helm, eyeing that strange mortal once more. What was it doing? The horse was coming closer, and the woman's eyes locked onto his form.
She was foolish enough to come straight towards him? This would be fun-
Sauron's eyes widened behind his helm. The One Ring pulsed once more, just like the little cold tick that wouldn't go away.
The lady rushed up the valley, coming ever closer still, and that was when Sauron knew why this mortal woman had the recklessness, the fearless abandon to charge straight for him.
Her sword hand gleamed, and upon her first finger, a band glowed in the light.
Many coloured metals made up this mismatched ring, welded together by what clearly was Celebrimbor's own work. It was not ordinary trinket, this charmed jewelry.
Sauron was there to oversee the creation of those rings, the dwarven and man-king rings. He knew every hammer strike, every shade of metal, every decorative carving, the exact lustre of each ring.
And he saw it here.
All of them.
A multicoloured obscenity embracing her finger, every colour a piece of at least one ring that was created, making this terrifying tapestry of metals, all bound for one purpose.
It was clear to him, two things.
Mortals were clever in making something almost exactly like his own- a counter, a sister ring to overthrow his One with the power of Many.
Now he too understood why Morgoth, the strongest and most terrible of the Valar, could feel fear.
TL;DR: Gather the dust and remnants from every ring, heat that shit up, and make a new ring to punch the One Ring in the smooth face with the power of Friendship
Yandere King of Hearts x Reader x Yandere Queen of Hearts (Ocs Kinda)
Warnings: Blood, mass murder, vomiting, obsessive behavior. Reader wears dresses but pronouns are kept neutral.
Masterlist 💘
The queen's hands felt like knives on your spine as she tied the laces of the bodice, her lip raising into a scowl as she fought with the red ribbon.
"Why make laces if they don't fit..." She hissed under her breath, but you were more focused on the reflection in front of you.
You didn't even recognize them; all dolled up with no sign of wear and tear. You were so used to the bags under your eyes and the scars from your previous life on the countryside. Oh, how you wished you could go back. You wished you could wake up every morning to the sweet smell of your mother's perfume and the pancakes on the stove. You wished you could feel your father hug you tight before you picked the annoying crops from the garden. You miss it so much that your heart began to ache.
You only exited your mind when the queen grabbed your shoulders, her nails digging into the puffs of your sleeves.
"Chin up, love. It's your wedding day." The queen reminded, as if it were a mockery rather than an announcement. A reminder you could never be free again.
Your mouth twitched as you faked a tight smile; it hurt to do so. Your eyes looked so dull as they looked at themselves. You couldn't see the spark that you once had before all of this. Why did they have to chose you as a consort? Why couldn't it be the ladies and gentlemen that swooned over their every step?
The queen adjusted your veil before pulling your shoulders until you sat upright. "There. You look perfect, my heart." She murmured, resting her head on your shoulder. Her crown felt like a knife against your cheek.
She took your hand and slowly led you out of the room as if you were made of glass, glaring at anyone who stood too close. The cathedral doors felt like a prison you were willingly walking into, but where would you run? They would just capture you again like a rabid animal.
The cathedral doors slid open and you could feel your heart beating faster in your ears. When your posture grew to a hunch again, the queen's nails dug roughly into your palm, forcing you to stand tall again.
Your veil casketed down your back like a weighted chain, slowly inching closer to your cell as you walked down the isle. Your "lover" looked like the happiest woman in the kingdom, her red lips upward in a proud grin.
Just ahead, the king stood tall and nervous. But not nearly for the reasons you were. He was nervous as though he were but a simple groom awaiting his spouse, not a captor awaiting his victim.
The queen moved to the king's side as you stood before the two. One side facing the pope and one facing the kingdom, you let the king and queen hold either of your hands, the final chain across your wrist.
Your heartbeat grew faster and louder in your ears until it's all you could hear. You palms and back grew sweaty, but the king and queen looked almost pleased? Did they think you were just a blushing bride? They probably saw it as cute; they always did when you were scared.
The pope's words were tuned out as you got into a staring competition with your spouses to be, until finally, the pope hammered the final nail in your coffin.
"Do you take Lady Matilda and Lord Victor as your lawfully wedded wife and husband?" The old man asked.
You began sweating even more, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You could feel the crowd staring at you in anticipation, their eyes looking at you from almost every angle of the room. The queen's nails began digging into your hand.
"I..." You hesitated, but in the midst of your panic, you didn't see the king signal to the card guards nearby. That is, until screams echoed through the church. Your head shot up as bayonets pierced through any nearby citizens with a sickening slash all while gunshots pierced through the room without a care.
Your ears rung with every fire of the rifles. You let out a sob when everything went silent. Your dress was covered blood as you threw your hands from the king and queen's hold to cover your mouth. You began sobbing and praying to any god that would listen, your quivering legs collapsing beneath you as you covered your mouth. But all you did was forced the smell of iron and viscera closer to your nose. Your throat burned as you purged whatever food was left in you onto the marble floor.
Tears flooded your vision even as the king and queen patted your back when you began to heave. "Aw, sorry sweetie. It won't happen again" The king said, as though he was mocking you. Mocking you for his decision to murder the nobles, mocking your decision to agree to stay with them in the first place, mocking your suffering.
You sobbed and shook your head, but the queen grabbed you by your hair and forced your eyes to meet hers. "Honey, this would all be avoided if you didn't hesitate. If you won't answer the pope, then answer me. Will you be our spouse?" The queen asked, her voice calm and her eyes soft.
You began to breathe heavily before the king grabbed your shoulders from behind. "Answer her, sweetness." He murmured in your ear as if he were encouraging a child.
"Yes! I do... I do!" You gasped out, your eyes squeezing shut. The king and queen caged you between them as the queen kissed your face.
"Such a good consort. We promise to spoil you until you stop breathing..."
