Chapter Text
The cave swallowed them whole, it's cool breath brushing against Artanis’s skin as she stepped deeper into the shadows. The air smelled of old stone and forgotten secrets, the kind of place Maedhros would have chosen precisely because no one else would think to look. Her fingers brushed the rough wall as she moved, following the faint hum of Noldorin wards woven into the rock. It was like touching the memory of her kin, a whisper of craft and intention left behind in the dark. She found the crevice almost by instinct, her hand slipping into the narrow gap until her fingertips brushed cloth. When she pulled the bundle free, her heart surged with a fierce, bright relief. The map. The one thing Sauron could never be allowed to touch. She pressed it to her chest, breath catching, joy rising so sharply it almost hurt. “We have it,” she whispered, turning toward the cave mouth. “Halbrand, we—”
He wasn’t beside her.
He stood in the entrance, framed by the pale morning light, his silhouette rigid and unnervingly still. The warmth she had grown used to, the quiet steadiness, the mortal softness, was gone. In its place was something colder, heavier, a presence that pressed against the air like a storm building behind a mountain. Artanis felt the shift before she understood it. The temperature dropped, frost blooming along the cave walls in delicate, crystalline veins. Her breath fogged in front of her. The map suddenly felt heavier in her hands.
“Halbrand?” she asked, her voice tightening. “Why aren’t you moving?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t blink. He simply watched her with an expression that was no longer human.
“Give me the map,” he said.
The voice was wrong. Not in pitch, in weight. In age. In the way it curled around the edges of the cave like smoke.
Artanis stepped back, clutching the oilcloth tighter. "What is your name?
He lifted his head slowly, and the smile that spread across his face was a stranger’s, sharp, knowing, ancient. “I have had many names,” he murmured, and the illusion around him flickered like a dying flame. Not fully gone but fractured. The mortal shape still clung to him, but the truth beneath it bled through in the set of his shoulders, the glint in his eyes, the cold power radiating from him.
Her stomach dropped.
“No,” she whispered. “No—”
He took a single step forward, and the cave seemed to shrink around him.
It had been him.
All along.
Sauron.
Artanis turned and ran.
She didn’t think, she simply moved, her boots striking the stone, her breath tearing from her lungs. She burst into the forest, sunlight blinding her for a heartbeat as she sprinted through the underbrush. Branches whipped at her arms, leaves tore at her hair, but she didn’t stop. She pressed the map tight against her bodice, her heart pounding with fury and betrayal. She had kissed him. Trusted him. Let herself— suddenly, a wall of shimmering force slammed down around her.
She hit it hard, palms stinging as she rebounded. The dome sealed itself in an instant, a perfect sphere of humming, icy power. She struck it again, harder, but it held firm, cold and unyielding. The air inside tasted metallic, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Sauron stepped through the trees, still wearing Halbrand’s face, but the warmth was gone. Only the predator remained, amused and unhurried.
“You’re quick,” he said, circling the dome with the lazy confidence of someone who already knew the outcome. “But not quicker than me.”
Artanis glared at him, chest heaving. “You deceived me.”
He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You’re the one who insisted on running off to find the map. I simply… accompanied you.”
“You lied.”
“You believed,” he corrected, eyes gleaming. “There’s a difference.”
She slammed her fist against the barrier. “I kissed you.”
His smile sharpened, pleased in a way that made her want to scream. “Oh, I remember. Quite vividly.”
Her face burned with fury. “You manipulated me.”
“Did I?” he asked, leaning closer to the barrier. “Or did you simply enjoy yourself?”
“Let me out.”
“Give me the map.”
“Never.”
He clicked his tongue, circling her like a wolf evaluating a trapped deer. “You tucked it into your bodice, didn’t you? Clever. And bold.” His eyes flicked downward, teasing, infuriating. “If you want help retrieving it, I’m more than willing.”
She nearly threw herself at the barrier.
“You are vile.”
“And you,” he said, stopping directly in front of her, “are adorable when you’re angry.”
She backed away, clenching her fists. “I will not give it to you.”
“You will,” he said softly. “Eventually.”
“Why? Because you think you can charm me again?”
“Oh, I don’t need to charm you,” he said, leaning one hand against the dome. “But if you want to do more kissing, I’m certainly not opposed.”
Artanis’s fury flared so hot it felt like light. “I hate you.”
He smiled wider, delighted. “Yet you kissed me.”
She grabbed a stone and hurled it at him. It bounced harmlessly off the dome.
Sauron laughed, low, warm, infuriatingly pleased.
“Come now, Artanis,” he said. “We both know this is far from over.”
The dome tightened around her like a second skin, humming with cold, coiled power. Artanis pressed her palms against it again, harder this time, feeling the sting travel up her arms. The barrier didn’t budge. It pulsed faintly beneath her touch, as though responding to her heartbeat, or mocking it. The forest beyond the shimmering curve looked impossibly distant, the sunlight fractured into shards of gold and white as it passed through the magical shell.
Sauron stood just outside, still wearing Halbrand’s face, though the illusion no longer sat comfortably on him. It flickered at the edges, like a candle flame fighting a draft. His eyes were wrong, too bright, too knowing, too ancient to belong to the mortal she thought she’d kissed beneath the dawn. He watched her with a calm, predatory patience, as though he had all the time in the world and she had none.
“Artanis,” he said softly, almost gently. “Stop fighting. You’re only exhausting yourself.”
She glared at him, breath sharp. “I will never give you the map.”
He stepped closer, the dome rippling faintly as his presence brushed against it. “You say that now. But you haven’t thought it through.”
“I have,” she snapped. “More than you know.”
“No,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You’re reacting. You’re angry. Betrayed. Hurt.” His smile deepened, slow and unbearably self‑satisfied. “And you’re letting that cloud your judgment.”
She slammed her fist against the barrier again. “You deceived me.”
“And you,” he said, “wanted to be deceived.”
Her breath caught, not in agreement, but in fury so sharp it felt like a blade. “You think I wanted this?”
“I think,” he said, circling the dome with unhurried steps, “that you wanted someone who understood you. Someone who could keep up with you. Someone who could fight beside you without faltering.” He paused behind her, his voice brushing the back of her neck like a cold wind. “Someone who didn’t fear you.”
She spun, pressing her back to the barrier. “You are not that someone.”
He appeared on the other side of the dome, leaning one hand against it, his face inches from hers. “Aren’t I?”
“No.”
“You kissed me.”
She bared her teeth. “I kissed Halbrand.”
He smiled, a slow, wicked, delighted. “Halbrand was me.”
She struck the barrier again, wishing it were his face. “You are vile.”
“And you,” he said, “are lying to yourself.”
Artanis turned away, refusing to look at him. She pressed the map tighter against her chest, feeling the edges of the oilcloth dig into her ribs. The weight of it grounded her, reminded her why she had come, why she had run, why she could not falter now.
Sauron’s voice softened, losing its mockery. “Artanis. Listen to me.”
She didn’t turn.
“You cannot save them alone.”
Her breath hitched.
“You cannot storm Angband with a handful of mortals and hope to succeed. You cannot protect your kin, your betrothed, your people, without power.” His voice lowered, becoming something quieter, more dangerous. “And I can give you that power.”
She turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “You want me to join you.”
“I want you to survive,” he said. “And to stop pretending you are not meant for more than the scraps your kin allow you.”
Her pulse quickened but not with temptation, but with fury. “You know nothing of my kin.”
“I know everything about them,” he said. “I know how they look at you. I know how they fear your strength. I know how they whisper about your ambition.” He stepped closer, the dome shimmering between them. “And I know how they will break under my hand if you refuse me.”
She lunged at the barrier, palms slamming against it. “Do not touch them.”
He smiled, not cruelly, but with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had found the crack in the armor. “Then give me the map.”
“No.”
“Artanis—”
“No.”
He exhaled slowly, as though she were a stubborn child refusing to see reason. “You are making this harder than it needs to be.”
“Good.”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that made her want to throw something at him. “You are infuriating.”
“You are insufferable.”
“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, “you kissed me.”
She clenched her jaw. “I regret it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
She threw a handful of dirt at him. It hit the dome and slid down uselessly.
Sauron’s grin widened. “If you want to do more kissing, you only have to ask.”
She nearly screamed.
He looked delighted.
“Come now,” he murmured. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I will never kiss you again.”
“We’ll see.”
“I hate you.”
“And yet,” he said, tapping the dome lightly with one finger, “you’re still thinking about it.”
She turned away, pressing her forehead against the barrier, trying to steady her breath, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.
Sauron watched her, eyes gleaming with triumph and something else, something darker, deeper, more possessive.
“This isn’t over,” he said softly.
She knew he was right.
The dome didn’t shatter so much as implode. One moment it was a perfect sphere of shimmering force, humming with cold power; the next, it collapsed inward with a sound like cracking ice, the air rushing back into the space it had occupied. Artanis stumbled forward as the barrier dissolved around her, the sudden freedom disorienting. She barely had time to draw breath before a hand closed around her arm—iron‑strong, unyielding—and yanked her back against a solid chest. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Sauron, still wearing Halbrand’s face, though the illusion flickered like a dying flame, held her pinned with brute force, one arm locked around her waist, the other gripping her wrist to keep her from striking him.
She fought anyway. Her heel slammed down toward his shin; he shifted just enough to avoid it, his breath brushing her ear in a low, infuriating laugh. She twisted, trying to wrench free, but his grip only tightened, his strength far beyond anything mortal. The forest around them blurred as she struggled, the sunlight fractured through the trees, the scent of crushed leaves rising beneath their feet.
“Stop,” he murmured, voice maddeningly calm. “You’re only tiring yourself.”
“Let go of me,” she snarled, trying to elbow him in the ribs. He caught the movement before it landed, pulling her closer, his hold unbreakable.
“Not until you listen.”
“I will never listen to you.”
“You will,” he said, his tone shifting, still soft, but threaded with something ancient and resonant, something that vibrated through her bones. “Because you know I’m right.”
She twisted again, fury burning through her. “You are a liar.”
“And you,” he said, “are wasting time you don’t have.”
She tried to kick him again. He blocked it with his leg, his grip tightening around her waist until she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath against her back. The closeness made her skin crawl with anger, and something else she refused to name.
“Artanis,” he said, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper, “think on my proposal.”
“I’d rather die.”
“You might,” he said simply. “And so might your kin. Your betrothed. Your people. All because you refuse to see what stands in front of you.”
She froze—not because she believed him, but because the cold certainty in his tone cut deeper than any threat.
He felt the shift.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now listen.”
“I will not—”
“You want power,” he said, overriding her. “Real power. Not the scraps your uncles dole out. Not the borrowed light of your aunt. Power. Enough to reshape the world. Enough to protect everyone you love.”
She clenched her jaw. “I do not want your corruption.”
He laughed softly, the sound warm and infuriating. “Corruption? No. I offer you strength. I can make you more powerful than Melian ever dreamed of being. Stronger than the foundations of the earth itself.”
She jerked against him, fury flaring. “I would rather burn.”
“You already are,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek. “Burning with anger. Burning with fear. Burning with potential you refuse to claim.”
She tried to slam her head back into his face. He caught the motion easily, shifting his grip so her back was pressed fully against him, her arms pinned at her sides.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, leaning close enough that she could feel the curve of his smile, “you’re delightful when you fight.”
She nearly screamed.
He sounded delighted.
“You are insufferable.”
“And you,” he said, “are magnificent.”
“Release me.”
“Not until you stop pretending you don’t want to hear what I’m offering.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You kissed me.”
“That was before I knew who you were.”
“And now that you do,” he said, voice dropping into a low, pleased murmur, “you’re fighting me with even more enthusiasm. I can’t decide if I should be offended or flattered.”
She twisted again, trying to stomp on his foot. He dodged, laughing under his breath.
“You are vile.”
“And you,” he said, “are adorable when you’re furious.”
She tried to elbow him again. He caught her wrist mid‑strike, pulling her even closer.
“Think on my offer,” he murmured. “Power beyond anything your kin could imagine. Power to save them. Power to reshape your fate.”
“I will never join you.”
“We’ll see.”
“I hate you.”
“And yet,” he said, his smile audible in his voice, “you kissed me. If you want to do more kissing, you only have to ask.”
She made a sound halfway between a snarl and a scream.
Sauron laughed, low, warm, maddeningly pleased. His hands went to the front of her bodice and with one quick motion, ripped it open and the map fell to the ground.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here."
"You vile-"
Before she could finish, he used his power to move her against a nearby tree, stringing her hands above her head, her tunic tore open, her breasts on full display to the forest. Sauron bent down and took the map and folded it carefully and stuck it into his waistband and smirked at her. "If you want it...."
She spit on him.
Sauron stood there, and his eyes grew darker. She realized her mistake then. His attack was fast and forceful. His mouth searing on hers, jerking her head back by her hair, while his other hand groped her breast. She tried to bite but he moved his moth to her jaw, then to her neck, and then down to her breasts.
Artanis was so shocked she couldn't barely moved. She had no idea what sex was truly. Her lady mother and lady aunt always clutched their necklaces and changed the subject if she asked. Guess it was time for a hands-on lesson.
Sauron released her and took a step back, forcing himself to break away.
"Not like this and not here." He stated as he put his clothes back into place. "Come Artanis."
Sauron started walking away and she found the restraints pulled her along, whether she wanted to be or not.