His Queen

Chapter 41 - Kitra

Kitra stirred in her sleep, her body curled against Aragorn's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing presence. The night around them was quiet, the soft breathing of the others in the room blending with the gentle crackle of the dying fire. She had fallen asleep with her head resting on Aragorn's chest, seeking the comfort that his presence always provided. But even in the quiet, her sleep was restless, haunted by the unease that seemed to follow her everywhere.

In the middle of the night, she felt Aragorn shift beneath her. His warmth left her side as he moved, and the soft rustle of his clothing reached her ears. Half asleep, she blinked her eyes open, watching as he sat up.

"What's going on?" she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"Nothing," Aragorn replied softly, glancing down at her. He tried to keep his voice light, but there was something in his tone that tugged at Kitra's attention. "I just need some air. Sorry I woke you."

Kitra started to sit up, instinctively reaching for him. "S'alright," she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep. But before she could push herself fully upright, Aragorn's hand was on her shoulder, gently pressing her back down.

"Go back to sleep," he said, his voice tender but firm.

Kitra looked up at him, her mind still clouded by sleep, but the steady reassurance in his touch and the exhaustion of the past few days pulled her back down. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the blankets and the weight of her body dragging her back into unconsciousness.

As Aragorn slipped out of the room, Kitra remained in a dreamlike state, her mind flitting between the darkness of sleep and the faint awareness of the world around her. Time passed in a blur, and it wasn't until later that something stirred her awake once more—voices, hushed whispers from nearby.

She blinked groggily, her senses still dulled by sleep, and it wasn't until a strange energy prickled at her skin that she fully awoke. There was a sudden tension in the air, a wrongness that tugged at the edge of her consciousness.

Pippin's laughter had ceased. In its place was a silence, a heavy silence that made Kitra's heart pound with growing unease. She pushed herself up just in time to see Pippin reaching for the Palantír, his hands closing around the dark orb as if drawn to it by some unseen force.

The Palantír was surrounded by fire. Its malevolent glow filled the room, and Pippin's face contorted in pain as he collapsed to the floor, struggling to break free from its hold.

Before Kitra could think, she was moving, her hand reaching out to grab the Palantír in a desperate attempt to pull it away from Pippin. The moment her fingers touched the cold surface of the orb, the world around her vanished.

Sauron had been lurking at the edges of her mind for days, a dark presence she had felt in her quietest moments, whispering in the shadows of her thoughts. He had been trying to break through, to push her, to turn her against those she loved. And every day, Kitra had fought him off, resisting the temptation to give in to the darkness, to let the rage and fear consume her. She knew what he wanted—he wanted her to kill them, to destroy everything she held dear. But Kitra had always held firm, clinging to her love for Aragorn, Alana, and the others. She would never let Sauron have them.

But now, touching the Palantír, everything was swallowed by darkness.

A wave of excruciating pain shot through her body, so intense that she couldn't breathe. Her vision went white, and then—Sauron. His presence filled her mind, his voice reverberating through her skull. His dark, oppressive will pressed down on her, suffocating her thoughts as if he were trying to break her, to claim her.