Author: MarieAmethyst
Title: Surrender to the Darkness
Rating: R
Chapter: Three, Sauron
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^
I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.
If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~
UPDATE 12/31/08: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)
-*-*-*-
You can't abandon me
You belong to me
Breathe in and take my life in you
No longer myself only you
There's no escaping me, my love
Surrender
-*-*-*-
"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."
~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~
~*~
"Sauron!" Aragorn cried out, reaching for the sword that wasn't at his side. The Dark Lord laughed again, smiling coldly at him.
"Yes, I am he. Does it surprise you? Perhaps you were expecting something else? A mere shadow, or a deformed body?" He spread his arms slightly, inviting Aragorn to survey him.
That was what Aragorn had expected. He never imagined Sauron to be so... beautiful, if in a cruel way. Raven-black hair spilled down his back, held away from his face by a simple silver circlet. High cheek bones framed eyes as dark and fathomless as the shadows around them. Always he had been told Sauron was nothing more than a shadow, and yet before him stood a man, with skin as pale as the snows in winter.
Robes rustled as the Dark Lord stepped nearer, gazing long at Aragorn. What he saw seemed to please him, for he smiled slightly, with only a hint of harshness. "Do I please you, my Lord Dunadan? For you please me. You should wear black silk more often."
Averting his eyes, Aragorn ignored the last comment and answered, "It matters naught if your appearance is not what I expected. I am sworn to destroy you."
One long, pale hand lifted from within the black robes, and in his grasp Sauron held a sword. "Of course. You are welcome to try and destroy me, if that is what you wish. And perhaps it will convince you that it is not possible." The sword, glittering dully in the dim light cast by only a few torches, beckoned him forward. Sauron extended the hilt toward him, lifting a black eyebrow when the Ranger hesitated. "What is the matter? Frightened?" He asked, mocking Aragorn's words before.
Resolving himself, Aragorn reached out and grasped the hilt. It was surprisingly light for its size, and he gave it a suspicious look. Then he looked back up and prepared to strike. The Dark Lord stood absolutely still before him, a mocking smile forming when Aragorn made no move. Taking another step closer, he placed himself within easy range for Aragorn to strike. "Come, what are you waiting for? You said yourself you wanted to destroy me. Here is your chance! Is the sword to heavy for you? Should I call another in to do the job for you?"
With a cry, Aragorn struck, only to have the sword stop an inch from Sauron's body. An unseen force was protecting the Dark Lord, or more likely his own powers. With a sigh of defeat, Aragorn lowered the sword, then looked up into his enemy's face. Instead of the triumphant expression he knew would be there, Sauron's face was unreadable. "You've proven your point," Aragorn said with another sigh. The sword fell from his grasp and landed with a muted clatter.
Moving closer, Sauron lifted the Ranger's face with one cold hand. Staring into grey eyes for a moment, he observed the defeated light within them. With a sigh of his own, he said, "I only meant to prove a point, Aragorn, not to break that spirit inside of you. In truth, that is what draws me to you, that fire that refuses to stop burning. But now I fear I have done what I truly wished to avoid.
"What will it take to restore that fire, that confidence? You are not the kind to wish for power, and are not swayed by greed. A companion from your own people? Though he would be only in name. You are now mine, my Lord Aragorn." The last was uttered in a whisper, near the other's lips.
Aragorn stared back helplessly, lost for a moment in the dark eyes gazing intently into his. With a small cry he stumbled back, putting distance between them. He wished now he hadn't dropped the sword, for it gave him some security. As if reading his mind, the sword darted from the floor to stop before him, and automatically he reached out to grasp the hilt again, shock plainly on his face.
"I want you to be afraid of me, Aragorn, that I will not deny. But I will not hurt you, not unless you give me reason too. If the sword makes you feel more secure, keep it. Or should I send for your precious sword? Narsil as it is referred too, believe. Or perhaps you would like to become my lieutenant?" From the shadows the Mouth of Sauron stirred at his Master's words, betraying his displeasure at the offering of his job. Sauron paid him no mind, continuing to gaze at the man before him.
"And why should I believe you, father of lies?" Aragorn asked, taking another step back. He was slowly falling under the Dark Lord's spell, but he felt no incarnation directed him. He didn't even want to consider what that meant.
"And what choice do you have otherwise?" Sauron countered, remaining where he stood, though it seemed to Aragorn he was nearer than before.
"None. But I do not understand what someone like you would want with me. Before you called me yours, though I cannot recall ever surrendering beyond the lost of defeating you with the sword," Aragorn said.
"There you are wrong, my lord," Sauron murmured, "You are mine, and will always be. Long have I desired to have you, and now that I do, I will not let you go." His ebony eyes were alight with a dark desire, and he wore a predator's grin.
The doors stopped his retreat backwards, and he could only watch helplessly as the Dark Lord began to stalk closer, robes flowing around a tall body that he now noticed as if for the first time. Aragorn drew in a sharp breath as Sauron stopped only inches from him. Again the cold hand cupped his chin, then slid up to his cheek, where another cold hand stroked the other cheek. And slowly, Sauron lowered his head and captured his lips with his own.
With a moan Aragorn let his head fall back under the assault of the hungry lips on his. A hand slid up on its own violation to tangle in the raven-black hair, as his other came up to cover a hand on his cheek. The icy lips lifted from his, then trailed small kisses down his cheek and over his eyes. Obediently, Aragorn closed them, trying to pretend this was not Sauron he was kissing, but a chuckle told him his thoughts were again read.
"You can deny it as much as you want, Aragorn," he whispered, biting delicately at an ear, then smiling as the Ranger shuddered against him, "but your body betrays you. You want me as much as I want you." With that he again took the other's mouth, and the protest died on the Ranger's lips. Sauron's arms slipped down to encircle his waist before pulling him more firmly against him.
"You are mine," he whispered against Aragorn's lips. Aragorn could only groan in response...