Thranduil x Orc Reader: Beauty Tamed the Beast Pt4

Modern AU! Thranduil x Orc Reader

Beauty Tamed the Beast: Part Four  

For several long moments Butterbur’s bar was silent; both man and woman locked in a wordless battle of wills. One with a cold, calculating gaze, and the other with an aura of mild amusement. It was the former who spoke first.

“So, Thranduil Greenwood: what is your business proposition?”

The man’s light blue eyes seemed to shine with unknown motive for a moment, before he moved to answer her.

“I am well aware that you have received an ultimatum from the Witch King, for my blood.” At the familiar nickname for Angmar (F/n)’s eyebrow rose, though Greenwood ignored her response and continued. “I am here to extend a new contract and grant you a counter-offer.”

(F/n) wondered how her target had come to know of Angmar’s threat, and would have puzzled over it for quite some time if a mental image of Thorin hadn’t flooded into her conscious almost immediately . . . The Oak must have been eavesdropping on the conversation she’d had with the Nazgul Leader in his chamber earlier that morning. It was the only plausible explanation for her target knowing what he knew- seeing as no electronics were allowed into Dol Guldur’s interior and all ORC-lings were thoroughly scanned at the gate.

At the reminder of Thorin’s betrayal, the Chopper wanted nothing more than to kill the man sitting next to her at the bar and be done with the whole ordeal. . . But she had vowed to hear him out before making a decision. So she would wait.

“What did you have in mind?” Though her voice was frosty and full of venom, Thranduil remained unperturbed as he steepled his long hands together and regarded her. It was downright unnatural how at ease he was.

“Last night you proved yourself incapable of killing me, and for your trouble you’ve been trapped in a precarious position.” The woman was about to object, but the look he passed her made her stay quiet. This wasn’t due to intimidation, but rather curiosity. “I propose that we compromise. You return to your Guild with a clean slate of conduct, and I continue to live.”

“And how do we accomplish such a flawless outcome?” (F/n)’s voice was laced with well-deserved skepticism, and Thranduil upon hearing it, smiled lightly.

“We fake it, Ms. (L/n).”

The Chopper raised an eyebrow. “And just how do we fake your death?”

“Technology these days can work wonders, can it not?”

“. . . Yes. But even if we were capable of creating a convincing death before a camera, we’d have to hope that one of the Guild’s servers picked it up and streamed it to the proper channels. It’d be a gamble of a lifetime. One in a million chance.”

“It wouldn’t be left to hope or luck, my dear.” Thranduil raised (F/n)’s commandeered glass of wine that he had been holding, and confidently downed the rest of the crimson liquid in one swallow.

(F/n) studied him for a long moment before what he was really saying clicked. “You’ve found a way to hack ORC’s systems.”

The man offered no clarification, but from the miniscule tip of his head, and tapping of his fingers against the glass as he laid it on the bar, the assassin knew that she was on the right track. And for the first time since the night before, the ORC-ling felt a spark of positive energy kindle within her. Perhaps there was a way out of this corner after all. . .

“And what about the job offer?” She wondered aloud, moving on to the second item of business Greenwood had mentioned. “If we somehow succeeded in streaming your theatrical demise to the Guild, what then?”

Thranduil wasted no time in reaching into the depths of his suit coat, as he answered the female assassin plainly. “I wish for you to kill someone. . . I’ve heard you’re quite good at it.”

(F/n) snorted despite herself, and noted that his smile grew slightly larger at the sound. “I was under the impression that Judges lived by the law? No killing, stealing, encroaching, or blackmailing- that lovely crime-free lifestyle that I’ve heard so much about.”

“Some crimes call for desperate measures,” he said calmly, though she knew she had finally hit a nerve by the displeasure that seemed to waft from him.

Basking in her first true victory against the man, (F/n) asked, “Who is it I would be killing?”

At this, what was left of Thranduil’s smile disappeared completely, as he pulled out a package from his suit and slid it to her on the bar counter.

“Someone who deserves death.”

When (F/n) made no move to touch or open the envelope, he sighed almost inaudibly.

“I am unsure of what his true name is,” he offered. “But in the underground he is known as Sauron.”

(F/n)’s expression remained unchanged, for she had never heard the name before and found no terror in it.

“Who is he? And why do you want him dead?” Usually, the woman never wanted details with her contracts, seeing as it made it personal and harder to carry out without complications. But this time she would need to know. Greenwood was a judge after all, and this could very well be a trap.

At her questions, Thranduil’s eyes became suddenly angry; the light blue pools turning into craggy glaciers in a mere matter of seconds. And despite the calm stature he presented before, his body tensed ever so slightly.  The Chopper was sure she would have missed this minute difference if she hadn’t been trained to spot such things. But luckily she had, and it wasn’t lost on her.  

“My reasons are irrelevant to the task’s completion,” came the curt reply. “All you need know, is that he is a man with many agendas that have hurt more people than can be named. He drabbles in the drug cartels and the sex slave trade, among many other less than savory activities. Sauron is a merchant of death, and must be stopped before he can cause further damage to this world.”

The ORC-ling was quiet for a moment before she said, “You seem to forget that I deal in death too.” (F/n) didn’t have any intention of letting her heart rule her head a second time, so she stood firm. “If you want him terminated, after all you have cost me, I’ll need a better reason then you trying to appeal to my humanity.”

“I will pay you whatever commission you deem appropriate.” But the ORC-ling was already shaking her head.

“It’s not a matter of money. If I end up taking this job, it’ll be because I want to. . . Now tell me, why should I work for the man who I was supposed to kill? Why. Do. You. Want. Him. Dead?”

Thranduil’s jaw clenched, and he once more pushed the envelope towards her. “He was involved in the death of someone I hold dear. A trait both Thorin and I share.”

(F/n)’s breath caught in her throat and her mask slipped. “Thorin lost someone? . . .”

For a moment the judge and assassin were both quiet, before Thranduil firmly pressed the package into the woman’s hands. And as she met his gaze once more, she couldn’t help but be entranced by the ardent glimmer that shone through the surface to greet her.

“See for yourself the wanton destruction that monster has caused, and tell me you would let him go unchallenged for his crimes.”

(F/n) looked into his light blue eyes for a long minute, and felt some of her resolve fade. Before, Thranduil’s fiery gaze had only seemed angry . . . but upon looking closer, the assassin could see so much more. There was regret, despair, and pain there as well. So much pain, that she could feel the hard shell around her heart shake in its very foundations. Whoever it was that Greenwood had lost, they had been someone invaluable to him. The collected and savvy Judge had loved this person beyond measure, and he wanted nothing more than swift retribution for the one responsible for taking his cherished one away. It was cold and simple, and something that the woman could be sympathetic toward.

(F/n) didn’t say a word as she opened the envelope and shifted her eyes away from his, but the woman had already made up her mind on what her answer would be. Silently, the Chopper leafed through the stack of photographs that had been housed in the paper sheaf. They depicted blown up buildings (several hospitals), corpses that had been pushed into piles and were rotting, large crates of weapons that were about to be shipped out, and several girls ranging from 12 to 20 with little to no clothing on. It was these women that caught the assassin’s attention. And if the woman had had any more empathetic tears to shed, she would have cried for them.

For a full minute (F/n) lingered on the pictures with the abused girls, before she lifted up the last one in the stack for inspection. Expecting more carnage, the woman nearly choked when her eyes came to rest on the center figure in the last image.

Though the ORC-ling had been trained for years to disregard her fear, it now consumed her tenfold. Her heartbeat resounded painfully in her ears, and her hands turned deathly white as she held the picture in a death grip.  It had been a very long time since the woman had felt this way, but the familiar feeling of being sick to her stomach was far from unexpected . . . given the circumstances.

(F/n) let her now dead eyes pass over the singular man in the photo, fighting the darkness it brought with all her might. She had been ruined by this demon before, and she would never allow a repeat performance.

“Is this Sauron?”

The question was said so softly that Thranduil wouldn’t have heard it, if he hadn’t been waiting for her to speak. And though he seemed curious over her reaction and sudden interest, he merely confirmed her inquiry.

The Chopper’s eyes never left the picture as she spoke again, and the conviction in her tone would have been enough to make most stop cold in their tracks.

“You’ve got yourself a contract, Greenwood. Sauron is as good as dead.”

Thranduil inclined his head in understanding. “Where should I deposit your fee?”

The ORC assassin shook her head. “No fee. This one’s on me.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Thranduil studied the woman carefully, looking for a tell on her pretty face. But all he found was her mask, once more firmly in place.

“My reasons are irrelevant to the task,” she said, repeating his own words from just minutes before. “All you need to know is that I’ll get the job done.”

(F/n) stared at the picture and felt the sure-fire tendrils of hate clench painfully at the edge of her mind. But despite the pain she remained unfazed.

Get ready to meet your end, Sauron. She thought as she once more met Thranduil’s light blue gaze. I’m coming for you, and nothing will stop me this time . . . . father.