He felt warmth and comfort.
Wait... Sauron slowly opened his eyelids. He sat up and looked around. He was in a forest of tall trees, lush green grass, butterflies fluttering and birds singing. Warm sunlight filtered through the trees, creating a beautiful scene.
"Where am I?" Sauron wondered. As he tried to remember... "Hah," Sauron sneered.
The Hobbits, a weak and small race, had outsmarted him and thrown the ring into Mount Doom.
Sauron looked around and began to assess the situation. He had lost the ring, but that didn't mean he was weak. He was still physically strong, and magic was still within him. Good.
First, he had to figure out where he was. Sauron closed his eyes and concentrated his mind to search the space around him.
The settlement in the East had around 500 inhabitants. Good.
He used magic to disguise himself as a traveler and began traveling eastward. It was time to gather information.
*Two weeks later*
Two weeks was enough for Sauron to learn not much, but enough. First, information and technology, from literature and communication to tools for building houses or farming, were all more backward than Gondor and Rohan at their weakest. Sauron felt pity for this kingdom. He knew the name of the kingdom, Germana, and the map of the kingdom where he was located was very close to the royal palace.
There was a rumor, at first just one, but everyone he asked said the same thing: the queen of Germana was the most beautiful woman, the envy of all. Sauron didn't believe it, but he could exploit it. In the city surrounding the royal palace, he infiltrated the palace, using a bit of illusion and magic so that no one noticed or saw him. At the court, he stood among the nobles, and when the queen emerged, he saw her and understood why the rumor was true.
The queen was tall and slender, with gorgeous black hair, skin as white as if it would glow, lips so red they beckoned anyone to take a bite, and delicate hands that anyone would want to cherish like a treasure. But Sauron focused on only one thing; beneath her, beneath that skin, he didn't see the beauty the kingdom celebrated. He saw invisible cracks in her mind: a fear of being forgotten, a hunger for power, and a desperate desire to control beauty as if it were her very soul.
And that… was familiar.
Three days later, a new advisor appeared in the court.
A tall man with a deep voice, possessing a strange understanding of human nature. He was neither obsequious nor fearful. He was not captivated by her beauty.Seraphelle quickly realized:
This man was not serving her. He was assessing her.And that intrigued her…
In the throne room, only the two of them remained.
"Who are you?" she asked. The man smiled faintly.
"Just a lost soul… searching for his place."
"And what do you see in my kingdom?"
Sauron looked directly into her eyes.
"Potential."
In the months that followed, the court changed in ways that were almost imperceptible.
At first, it was just small pieces of advice.
A trade treaty was postponed—to "reassess the risks."
A border lord was replaced—for "disloyalty."
A new guard—"more effective, less emotionally driven."
All of it made sense.
All of it benefited the kingdom.
And all of it… came from the new advisor.
Seraphelle found herself summoning him privately more and more often.
At first, it was about state affairs. Then it became… conversations without a third person present.
He didn't see her as a subject.
He didn't see her as a symbol of beauty.
He didn't see her as a monster.
He saw her as… a force.
That sometimes made her heart skip a beat—a strange, unsettling… and addictive feeling.
She hated it.
Because it made her feel seen through.
One night, on the palace balcony. "You're not afraid of me," Seraphelle said, her eyes still fixed on the city.
"No," Sauron replied simply.
"Why?"
A long silence.
"Because I understand you."
Seraphelle turned. Her gaze was sharp as a blade.
"Then tell me. What am I?"
Sauron didn't answer immediately.
"You are someone who refuses to be replaced.
You don't want to be just the most beautiful today—
You want to be the standard of beauty forever."
Seraphelle gripped the railing. No one had ever said that aloud.
From that night on, she began to let him stay longer.
Not because of trust. Not because of love.
But because… he made her feel she wasn't alone in her ambition.
Deep down, a small part of her realized:
He wasn't just standing beside her.
He was standing behind history.
And Sauron? He watched her like a gardener watching a growing tree.
Seraphelle wasn't a tool.
She was… the key.
A queen obsessed with eternity. A kingdom that believed in myth.
He just needed to piece them together.
Seraphelle, walking down the dark corridor, suddenly stopped.
A strange feeling welled up in her chest.
Not fear. Not desire. Not power.
Something more dangerous. The possibility… she could trust him.
She immediately dismissed the thought.
But the seed had been sown.