1 | vengeance [oakenshield]

ZERO

PROLOGUE

In the first fourteen years of her life, she was happy; she lived happily with her Elvish mother and Human father (he of whom hailed from the race of Men), younger sister of four years and older brother of three, all of them sharing a home in the settlement of Hultvís of within the Vales of Anduin. She loved the first fourteen years of her life, she loved her family, she loved her friends.

She loved her home.

At the time, she didn't understand why it had to be taken away from her. Even now, she feels confusion as to why the world chose to curse her instead of some other girl.

Azog the Defiler was ruthless when he raided her settlement, but he didn't do it for plunder and gold — no, but because his master wished it: find him someone to manipulate and torture into their perfect assassin, all to spite the world of the Free Peoples and all of Middle-earth. To spite the Woodland realm who would dare wage war on them and prove that not even they are powerful enough to protect their people. And in order to please him, he personally traveled to her homeland and ravaged it to nothing but ashes. 

The darkened sky and the golden light over the hills gave the impression of an early dusk to the people of her settlement — no one could have guessed that the darkening sky was in fact the smoke of settlements before hers, and the golden light that was mistaken for sun was, in fact, fire. The roars and distant cries of people slaughtered were all but mistaken for cheers of an untimely but not unwelcome celebration. The people kept this mindset, of course, until the same disaster struck them.

They came in one singular wave, torching homes and brandishing rusty weapons that was caked with dried blood. Her mother and siblings were all huddled into one corner, the woman clinging onto her three children as tightly as she could. The girl had to force herself to focus on her mother's gentle hymns and soft voice in attempts to block out the screaming of her kin that were being slaughtered from outside their home. When she heard the stinging sound of a blade tearing open someone's flesh, the girl let out a soft whimper.

Her mother pressed her lips into her daughter's hair. "Hush your cries, Katrina," she shushed gently. "This will all be over soon."

Not a few short moments later was the door to her small home being kicked down, and the shriek of the three Orcs raiding their home was overpowered by the screams of the terrified family. The Orcs stalked towards them, one of them grabbing Katrina by the arm as he attempted to rip her away from her mother's comforting grasp. Katrina struggled with all her might: she pushed, she kicked, she screamed, she even tried to claw the flesh of her attacker, but to no avail. Her siblings faired no better.

"My babies! Don't take my babies!" Their mother wept. "Katrina, Runin, Caitlyn! DON'T TAKE MY BABIES! NOO!"

Katrina was dragged out of her home and into the burning village shortly before she could witness the fate of her mother, her screams being drowned out by the cries of so many countless others. The air was foul with dead and rotting flesh, thanks to the fire that was peeling the skin off the bodies of her dead kin. But she was too focused on fighting her attacker's grip to focus on her surroundings, her mind racing with all the possibilities of where she could possibly be dragged to: a stake to burn at, a group to roundup and murder, or perhaps to a group of other children that would soon be made slaves of.

Survival. She had to survive. She had to.

After a sharp inhale, she sunk her teeth into the thumb of the opposing Orc, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when the Orc hissed sharply in pain and involuntarily brought his hand to his chest, letting go of the girl in the process.

Her fight or flight instincts told her to run in an aimless direction, to avoid any Orc, to survive. She forced her eyes forwards, her feet feeling sluggish in the mud as she ran — maybe this was because the mud was starting to become slippery with all the blood that was being spilt, or maybe it was because the amount of ash that was getting in her eyes was preventing her from seeing clearly. But still, she pressed on.

This was, until, she bumped into something soft. Now on the floor, she took the time to rub her eyes with her wrist, wishing she hadn't as soon as she had figured out what—who—she had ran into.

The white Warg was larger than any other Warg she had heard stories about. When it bared it's teeth, she saw how its fangs were glinting with the fresh blood of her kin. But it wasn't the Warg that was scaring her, but rather its rider: Azog the Defiler, the Pale Orc, the Orc-chieftan, was staring down at this small girl that was most likely more than half his size.

Quickly as she had fallen, she rushed to her feet. "My siblings," Katrina managed to say, crinkling her nose to rid of the itchy feeling of ash that was filling the air. "Where is my family?"

The stare the Pale Orc was giving her made her want to shrink, but she knew better than to back down. Her father had always told her that standing up to bullies was how you developed strength, and the being she was standing up to now was no more than a power hungry bully who thrived off of the pain and suffering of others.

Be strong. I can be strong. I have to be strong.

Her comment was met with a deep hum and almost grunt of satisfaction, something that made the girl's eyebrows twitch. Her breath hitched when the Pale Orc slid off of his steed, taking a small step back for every large step forwards. A small cry left her lips when she tripped, the sudden impact of her back hitting the ground making her wheeze as she hit the floor for a second time. By now, the ash stinging her eyes and causing tears that was worsening her already struggling eyesight. She did, however, manage to make out the clear image of a hand eye-level with her face.

With hesitation, she placed her small hand into the Defiler's larger palm. He helped her stand with relative ease before she was being picked up by her underarms, the Pale Orc awkwardly settling the girl in his arms before she was being placed on the back of the large white Warg. He was soon mounting the Warg as well before it burst into sprint. The Defiler used his large stature to prevent Katrina from looking behind her, her settlement shrinking in size as they and the rest of the raiding party rode away to Dul Guldur.

Azog saw a little girl in a time of desperation and manipulated her into being his pawn until eventually, she became perfect. Experimented on with the power of dark magic and the curse of a living demon taking residence within her body, Azog and his master soon attained their master assassin: a hybrid of both demon and Man, capable of dealing death like a second nature. Trauma became a repressed emotion, happiness became attributed to Azog's pleasure, and family? Family became Dul Guldur.

She would never know true family again.

Unless, by some magic, thirteen Dwarves became family instead.

[~]

bolded words will be in black speech

im very sorry for this shitty intro, but this is all ive got until i start working on this. please leave a vote and/or comment with your thoughts. thank you.