Chapter Text
Sauron’s knuckles rapped on the solid oak table.
“I would ask you to refrain from trying to damage our antiques, my lord.” Gil-galad bit out, as though irritated by the maia’s very presence. As though he himself had not invited the Dark Lord into Imladris.
“Apologies. I find myself growing rather concerned.” His voice was tight, annoyed. “You have, after all, just told me that the mother of my child remains in grave danger among your people.”
He sneered.
“So forgive me if I seem impolite.”
Gil-galad looked bored when he met his gaze.
They were not alone, of course. The half-elf boy, Galadriel’s decidedly estranged husband and another female elf, Sandriel of the Greenwood, were all present, standing around a large table in a cavernous room. As though they were equals. There to represent the interest of elves and free peoples across this continent, according to the king.
As though any of the assembled elves could stop him from burning this hall to the ground the second he decides to stop playing nice.
“Where is she?” Sauron asked again.
“Perhaps we can start negotiations early?” The elf-woman asked, ever the tone of politeness. Sauron gave her a sharp look.
“And why would I do that without assurance that Galadriel and my child are safe?” It was foolish being here.
He could have stolen her from Lindon in the night. He had no need to answer the High-King’s generous invitation.
His dramatic fit, as Galadriel would call it, was of course done to force her hand. He had been annoyed at the way she blocked her mind from him, the way she denied him glimpses of their daughter, so close to being in this world. He had been irked that she was trying to pass off the first half-maia child in this Age as belonging to anyone other than them. A bit of chaos was a useful tool, of course. But this went beyond what even he could control.
Stupid elves.
He knocked on the table again. He saw her husband roll his eyes. This was not the day to annoy him.
“I look forward to seeing what compromises your wife has in store for me.” He taunted. The elf did not dignify his childishness with a response.
“No one is delighted to be here today. Perhaps we endeavour to make this easier on each other by remaining civil, no?” The half-elf’s voice was firm and dark. His spine was straight, and he stood tall, despite the way that Sauron could see the hints of tension in his body.
Not fully healed.
The maia let out an annoyed sigh but kept silent.
The half-elf leaned back, satisfied.
The group was silent for a moment, letting the tension infuse the hall with its tendrils. Good, he thought. Let them sweat for putting themselves in this position in the first place. Let them be at our mercy.
Still, he could not stop the knot in his stomach, the vague panic at the corner of his mind that really this was his fault. His bruised pride endangered the only elf even remotely worthy of his attention.
“Where is she?” He asked again, his voice sharp. Gil-galad barely dignified him with a look.
“She will be along shortly.”
He did not doubt it.
“I am surprised that, given the dire nature of these negotiations, she would keep us waiting.” He lied, because of course she would. She would keep him waiting for a century if it suited her whims.
A movement at the door drew their attention.
He knew that Galadriel remained irked by his theatrics at the feast. But this was something else.
Galadriel was not the sort of elf to spend the final few weeks of her pregnancy in solemn confinement, and everything about her appearance was designed to reflect that.
To wear a cloak was considered demure in elven society, he knew that. But there was nothing retiring about the garment that covered her. The gold of her hair pushed against the adamants and fine-beading of her translucent hood. Instead of it causing her to fade into the background, it heightened her presence, causing every soul in the hall to stare directly at her serious face, and at the chiffon waves of her gown. The bodice was cut in a delicate vee that accentuated rather than concealed the growth of her breasts, much like how the bare skin of her stomach seemed to be almost, but not quite, visible through the fine, white chiffon skirts.
This was clearly a reminder. To herself, the elves, even him. The proud daughter of Finarfin would not be cowed -- she was a political, economic, even divine power in her own right.
As though he were ever at risk of forgetting.
She glanced at each member of the party in turn, and he could not help but smirk when her eyes met his and turned into a glare.
All he heard in his head was Don't start.
How he had missed her.
She lowered her hood in her own display of theatrics, nodding to a servant discreetly tucked away from view who removed the cloak from her shoulders.
"I hope I didn't miss much." She said simply before gracefully lowering herself into a seat at the head of the table.
Only now did the other elves find seats themselves, as though they awaited her permission.
Oh, but Galadriel was wasted tucked away in her people's lands.
The negotiations started poorly. In fact, Sauron’s very presence seemed unnecessary.
Instead, it was dominated by elven interests, bickering over their respective borders and grievances. The central tenet seemed to be that anything West of the Misty Mountains was firmly off the table, but if Sauron could agree to not take up arms against the elves, regardless of provocation, then his territory was negotiable, as was Galadriel.
He narrowed his eyes at the elven king as he said it. Arrogant and certain of himself, regardless of the woman’s presence at this very table. The maia wondered just how dire the situation had become for Galadriel to offer herself up like this. And for her foolish king to treat her like a parcel of land, to be meted out to the highest bidder.
No, he would not make it easy on this High-King of the elves.
Galadriel herself did not look pleased, sitting quietly in her chair, sending sharp looks to every speaker, biding her time.
Perhaps, he thought, she is here simply because she has been left with no other options. Gil-galad forcing her to the table, and her dolt of a husband too weak-willed to defend her against the rest of the Eldar. His body clenched at the thought that he was her last resort. It was not supposed to happen this way.
He had deluded himself that, when their daughter was born, she would see him in her daughter’s face, she would decide that her desire for him outweighed the sins of his past. He had plans -- he would not accept her immediately, his pride would not allow it. Instead, he would coldly greet her outside Pelargir, remaining distant from her until she was ready to beg for his affection once again. Only then would he consent to crown her, placing his daughter by their side in his final victory.
He had wanted her to want that.
His mind returned to what Gil-galad was saying.
“...a promise to disband the orc armies --”
“Why would I do that?” He snapped.
Gil-galad started, perhaps surprised that the maia had been listening at all.
“I will not leave my people in danger of your provocations.” He said simply. Sauron snorted.
“And yet it is yours that has provided the biggest provocation until now.”
The elven woman began:
“Perhaps a compromise --”
“No.”
Now he understood why Galadriel had acted as intransigent as she had in Numenór. It was rather fun. The elves bristled and Galadriel pursed her lips.
Good. Finally a reaction.
“On the subject of territory --” Her husband began.
“My daughter is descended from the Noldorin kings and queens of Valinor. She will have the might of my armies behind her, and those of my allies in Harad and beyond. Our borders will be wherever we say they are.” He said it as a challenge. No, there was no reason to cede any ground to these arrogant, short-sighted fools. If the only way he was to have his queen was through extortion and threats, then so be it. He would preserve his pride in this at least.
Galadriel looked unimpressed, but continued to remain silent.
He wondered what it would take, to make her break her façade of being this pretty elven princess. He wanted to know what was lying underneath this false composure that seemingly had everyone else fooled.
“How about we begin instead with the tributes that you will owe?” He crossed his leg over his lap in a clear affectation of nonchalance. The High-King of the elves pursed his lips. Sauron looked at the other members of the elven delegation. “Or perhaps the heads that you owe for your intended assassinations?”
“They failed. I, myself, am testament to --” Sauron held up his hand to the half-elf.
“I don’t care.”
He could see Galadriel, growing ever more incensed out of the corner of his eye. He continued, leaning forward and plucking the document held by Gil-galad from his elegant fingers.
“‘Retreat South past Ered Lithui’? ‘No harm shall come to a member of the Eldar’?” He tutted disapprovingly. “Tell me, were these demands drawn up by a child? There is no plausible reason that I would ever agree to even a single clause.”
"And yet here you are." Said Gil-galad.
Sauron glared daggers at him. He wanted to rip that stupid, elegant coronet off his head. Rip the glimmering ring off his finger, toss them in a fire and let the rest of the elves fade into nothing.
Galadriel would be fine. She would hate him forever, but he had dealt with worse moods from her.
Finally, the half-elf eyed him curiously.
"Then why don't you put forward terms." He said, a vision of politeness.
"And give you something to push against? I think not."
It was not as though he had a plan, after all.
Galadriel leaned back in her chair, and his eyes were immediately drawn to her movements.
"I would speak to Lord Sauron alone." She said finally, her expression tight. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well, it is not as though we are getting very far with negotiations as they are." She told him pointedly. He smiled at her, triumphant at even this small victory.
Gil-galad leaned over to her, muttering fast and low. She held her hand up.
"If you feel comfortable enough to delegate my fate to him, you can leave us be for a half hour." The elf-king quieted.
She turned to the half-elf's concerned glance.
"I will be perfectly alright, won't I, Sauron?" She asked.
"What could I possibly do? Get you pregnant again?" He drawled. She rolled her eyes.
"Quite."
Still, after another pause, the other elves rose, filing slowly out of the hall. Interestingly enough, her husband was the first to leave, seemingly unhappy to spend even a second longer than necessary in their company. Sauron could not blame him.
It was only when the half-elf shut the door behind him, leaving him alone with Galadriel for the first time in months that she spoke again.
"Well?"
****
"Where shall we start?" Sauron asked. Galadriel drummed her fingers on the edge of the table, her eyes intense and stormy.
"Ideally, with an apology." She bit out, her hand resting on her belly.
He at least had the grace to look moderately abashed.
"I did not intend for you to be in danger." It was as close to an apology as she was going to get. It was also not enough.
"Yes, your intention was simply to act like a petulant child and embarrass me." Her voice was cool.
"Surely you see now." He said, steepling his hands on the table. She wanted to knock them down, destroy his arrogance.
"They are nothing in comparison to you," he said. "They discard you at the slightest hint of disobedience. They fear you, fear our baby. They think that you, of all people, can be bought and sold like --"
"Enough." She said firmly. She knew he meant it. It did not mean she had to listen.
"This is humiliating." He said bitterly.
"For who?" She blinked. In her discarded cloak alone, she wore the wealth of a small nation. Her dignity was perfectly intact.
“Your king seems to assume that just because I will have you, I will be more willing to play nicely with the other children.” He was angry, and determined to lash out at the nearest person. Apparently, that was her, arrogantly assuming that she shared his rage at her treatment. As though she had not decided every detail of today for herself.
“What is to stop me from reneging on any agreement forged here today?” Now that was a fair point, and one that she had considered carefully over the past week.
“For a start, if you did, I would simply walk away, fading into the sea in a dreamlike mist.” She told him, almost amused. He snorted.
"Do you truly believe yourself to be so great a prize?" Sauron leered at her. Galadriel traced an elegant finger along the edge of the table. She looked at him idly, as though unconcerned.
"I believe that you think I am."
He did not reply, simply narrowed his eyes at her in anger. She was reminded of how he had glared at her across another table, a lifetime ago in the middle of the sea. He never did enjoy being bested.
"You are pouting like a child because you believe that the only reason I have agreed to these negotiations is because I have run out of options."
He didn't reply, choosing instead to look at a spot above her head.
She stood to block his sightline, graceful despite her stomach.
“I have plenty of options.” She said, “It would be a challenge at this point, but I’m sure that given enough time I could convince Celeborn to raise this child as his own.” Her hand was on her stomach, but her eyes remained fixed on his as she approached.
“If not, I could give her up to a loving elven family; they would raise her without either of us, and she would become pretty and small and dull. I could work with Gil-galad to unite the people, forge alliances with the dwarves and men. We would be at your gates within a year. Or,” and now, she stood coyly in front of him, her fingers toying gently with the embroidered threads on his jacket, the same way she knew her words were toying with his mind.
“I could flee across the sea with her. It would hurt my pride to beg Valinor for refuge, but they would not deny us. You would never see either of us again.”
She saw his hand flex out of the corner of her eye, his panic rising.
It was time to soothe him.
“I chose to be here, melmenya. Do not make me regret that by letting your wounded pride get in the way.” Her gentle tone, her quenya endearment -- she saw him soften.
She placed his hand on her stomach, and closed her eyes, encouraging their daughter to make herself known to him. Indeed, she felt a sharp kick, felt his hand press more firmly to her.
"There she is." She said softly, opening her eyes with a soft smile. "Our daughter deserves better than those futures. I will not let her childhood be marred by jealousy, war and misery."
Sauron stepped closer, laying his lips on the crown of her head.
"No provoking your kin?" He muttered. A first concession.
"It is a start."
He hummed.
"And what will you offer in return?" His hand mussed her hair from where it lay perfectly against her head, but she could not bring herself to care. Instead, she leaned into his touch, placing her lips to his open palm and catching fine threads of hair between them.
"I will not demand that you decommission your army." She told him. His eyebrows went up.
"How generous."
She let him step between her legs, smirking at him.
"Indeed, I thought so."
He wordlessly hoisted her onto the table, keeping her legs apart with his hands. She squirmed pleasantly when his hands ran down her thighs teasingly.
"Is this really the moment?" She asked, her mouth barely separate from his. He planted a light kiss on her lips.
"I believe it is, yes."
She gave a small hum of scepticism, but said nothing as he went to his knees, pushing her skirts to her waist.
Sauron's lips found her calf, her knee, her thigh as she took pity on him, holding the fabric above her core so he could see her wetness.
A gentle finger trailed along her folds.
"Undergarments are no longer in fashion for elven women?" He asked in amusement. Galadriel shifted, bringing herself closer to him.
"I thought it was for the best today at least." She said.
"Ever the pragmatist."
She stroked his hair away as he nuzzled against her, making her gasp when he pressed a brief kiss against her clit.
"Already wet, my love." He said smugly.
"Call it an effect of the pregnancy." She retorted. He snorted, the puff of air against her sending shivers down her spine.
"Yes," He said. "Thank you for reminding me that you are carrying my daughter."
She wondered how he managed to look in control, even as he sank his tongue lewdly into her. He robbed the rational thought from her mind when she felt a finger replace his tongue, his mouth moving to her clit instead. When he added another finger, twisting them inside of her, she whimpered.
She let him continue to lap at her, causing her wetness to leak onto the table. Still, for all that it made her hand tighten in his hair, this was not what she wanted. She stopped him.
"You are looking far too pleased with yourself." She told him, cold as ice.
"I am simply looking forward to pleasing my queen during our joint reign." He said, the picture of innocence.
"And if I tell you that it is your cock I want, and your clever tongue can stay in your mouth?" She said, and was pleased to see his eyes widen before he recovered. She gave him an imperious glance.
He rose wordlessly, obeying her order for silence, and removed his already hard cock from his breeches. He moved to spread her slickness over him, but she caught his hand.
"I will." She said firmly, taking him in a delicate hand.
She stroked him, in a pressure that she knew was far too gentle for his preference, and it made his mouth part.
She smiled, giving him the ghost of a kiss as she wiped the moisture from the head of his cock over his shaft.
"I wonder how quiet you can be for me…if you can let me take care of you." she mused. She increased the pressure of her hand. "Do you think you can manage that, melindo?"
He nodded. She rewarded him with another kiss, and a twist of her hand on his shaft. His hands caged her as they planted on the table, his head against her neck.
"If you are good," She told him into his ear. "I will let you fuck me here. But you will have to be ever so quiet."
Her rhythm increased, causing him to pant.
"My kinsmen are just outside, after all. It would kill them to see how you come apart for me, and I for you." Her voice was a gentle coo.
He heaved what might be a sob, tangling a hand in her hair, desperate for purchase. Much better, she thought.
"They wouldn't understand us." She told him.
She let him move closer, slicking his cock against her. He let out a quiet whimper when she let just the head of him slip inside, before taking him in hand again. She shushed his whine of frustration, pressing gentle kisses to the side of his face.
"There you go, melmenya, doesn't it feel good to know how wet I get for you?"
Her other hand joined the one on his cock, teasing lightly at his balls.
She could see him straining now, desperate to speak.
"What is it, love?" She asked innocently. He took a breath, but kept quiet. Good, he is learning. Her answering kiss to his wordless question was sweet, and she adjusted him again.
"It's okay, melmenya, you can fuck me now." She cooed. "But promise me you will be good…no, no, just a nod will do, love."
The maia nodded enthusiastically, silently begging her. She smiled, radiant and merciful, and let him slip inside her.
He struggled for a rhythm that would not come, and Galadriel almost pitied him. She soothed him, words of affection babbling from her lips in every language she knew.
For all her posturing, she knew that it would not take much for her to join him right on the edge, two fingers rubbing tight circles on her clit.
She moaned loudly when his thrust hit just right with the rhythm of her fingers. The sound caused Sauron's hips to stutter. She cupped his jaw in her hand, hooking her leg around his hip to draw him deeper, deeper inside of her.
"We can do this all the time," She said, her own voice shaking into a whine. "Our daughter will be safe in our castle, and your cock buried in my cunt." She let him groan. "Doesn't that sound lovely, melmenya?"
She left the rest unspoken. There would be no war. No more exerting power over the unseen world. She would not tame him entirely, but he would happily let his worst excesses be curbed by her.
It was when she felt her lover's release inside of her that Galadriel brought her own peak, coming with a moan that the maia caught in his mouth.
She left him with soft kisses, letting his breath return to him before removing his softened cock from inside of her. His head went to the crook of her neck, breathing deeply.
"No further West than the Anduin, no further North than the border of Fangorn." She whispered against the side of his head.
"No further West than the Anduin, no further North than the Gladden river."
It was a counter, but a reasonable one. There were parties who would be less than impressed by the compromise, but none of them were in the room. She gave her assent by tugging him up to her lips, kissing him long and slow.
"And you won't leave?" He muttered. She shifted; they remained so close, she could feel his softened cock brush against her debauched form, although he was the one who looked the more wrecked.
"If you keep to our terms, there will be no need." She told him. He kissed her again, his hand placed on her belly.
"Fine."
She couldn't help the triumphant smile that spread across her face.
"Congratulations, Lord of Mordor. You have won yourself a queen."
His answering grin was simply wicked.
They both looked as composed as ever by the time the elven delegation was invited back into the hall. Galadriel was sat, just as daintily as before, with her hands resting on her belly.
Regardless of the lack of evidence, the group clearly knew exactly how Galadriel had won this compromise. Elrond could not meet her eye. Elven hearing was a wondrous thing.
Sandriel assured them both that Celeborn had urgent business to attend, and regrettably would not be able to join them. The elf-woman looked largely impressed at Galadriel, her eyes filled with a respect that was entirely different from her simpering adoration a month prior. The dark circles under Gil-galad's eyes simply looked more pronounced than ever.
Still, he looked over their written compromise, and nodded.
Galadriel smiled gratefully at him, when she felt Sauron's hand rest on her shoulder from where he loomed behind her. She could feel her daughter's spirit -- wild and strong -- and she knew her baby was so close to being born. Mere weeks until her half-maia child was in her arms, squalling for attention that Galadriel would be only too happy to give.
"There is, of course, the matter of your ring." Sandriel said, placing her hands on the table.
The elf looked hungrily at Nenya on Galadriel's finger, the jewel pulsing in the late evening.
Galadriel blinked at her, before looking up at Sauron. He simply raised a brow at her as if it say This is your decision.
She shrugged and removed the ring, placing it directly into Elrond's palm.
"Anything else?" She asked the elven gossip, while her friend still stared stunned between the ring and Galadriel.
Sauron smirked behind her, unable to resist a final jab.
"It is no matter, my love. I can always make you another."