A/n: requested by @Morrowseerer. I know Azog dies in the Battle for Moria, (as stated in the book) but this is Jackson's storyline.

Azog the Defiler had adopted a young elfling. You to be more precise. The Pale Orc had ambushed your family as they were leaving the Greenwood, and killed them. Azog kept you alive. He saw you as someone he could train to be an assassin. So that's what you became.

For hundreds of years, you trained to become the deadliest killer in all of Middle Earth, and you were. You were out living on your own now, and had essentially retired from the "family business." In truth, you never liked the killings, you  did it because you never wanted to be killed yourself.

"Kill or be killed," Azog would say whenever you hesitated. The first time you had hesitated, Azog sliced your cheek with a sword. You were left with a scar on your right cheek, but you learned your lesson.

When Azog called for you to join him in the Battle of the Five Armies, you hesitated. You had settled into a good life outside of the village of Bree. Reluctantly, you answered the call and met the Orc in Ravenhill.

"Y/n, pathetic elfling. So good of you to come," Azog sneered at you as he spoke in Black Speech. You rolled your eyes.

"You sent for me, and I came. What do you want?"

Azog laughed the dark laughter that haunted your dreams. "The Elven King has brought an army. Meet him head on, and kill him."

You nod. Azog watched you leave, then sent your brother, Bolg, after you to make sure the job was done. It wasn't that you weren't trustworthy, it was the fact that you were being ordered to kill someone you knew a long time ago. In fact, you were betrothed to the Elven King long ago. That's why your family had been in the Greenwood of Old.

Thranduil had ordered his company to move into Dale as the battle continued. Hundreds of his kin had already been slain, and he didn't want to risk anymore. He rounded a corner when he saw you standing in the middle of the street. The elven King felt his breath catch in his throat.

You were thinner and paler than last he saw you. A long jagged scar ran from your eye to your jaw on your right cheek, and your long h/c hair was cut shorter than most Elleths. An arrow was pointed at the king, but you didn't shoot.

Feren, one of Thranduil's guards, unsheathed his sword ready to take you out. The Elven King raised his hand. "How can this be?"

You lowered your weapon slowly and stepped closer to the tall elf. "Azog the Defiler found me. That's where I've been all these years."

Thranduil stood a few feet from you. "Why have you come back?"

"The Pale Orc sent me to kill you, but I came to warn you of a second attack. Years ago I may have killed you, but I walked away from that life."

Feren scoffed in the background. "How do you walk away from that life?"

You raise an eyebrow at the brunette elf behind the king. "Let's just say I managed to disappear. The orcs won't go near a village of Men unless they had no choice. They don't want to risk losing their numbers to an entire village."

Before Thranduil could respond, an arrow whizzed past his head. One of his soldiers gasped and fell forward, the arrow sticking out of his chest. On instinct, you draw your bowstring back and turn around. Thranduil's army had drawn their weapons, and the King had his own drawn his own sword.

Azog the Defiler and Bolg stood under an archway. "I knew you wouldn't be able to finish the job," Azog sneered at you in Black Speech.

Bolg stood a foot behind him, ready to kill on command. You stood your ground in front of the King and the Orc who had adopted you. Thranduil moved closer to you, ready to defend you.

"If you kill him, I will kill you."

Azog smirked. "No, elfling. I will kill you either way for disobedience."

Thranduil stood his ground. "She is protected by my army and myself. I will gladly lay down my life for her."

You glance at him. Would he really do that for you? The king, lay his life down for you? A lowly Sindarian elf, who was an assassin?

Azog sneered angrily and launched at you. Both you and Thranduil fought side by side against the orc. Bolg and the elven army stood ready to defend those they fought for.

You managed to slice your adoptive father across the chest, making him stumble back. He glared at you and stormed off back to Ravenhill. Thranduil panted and looked you over. You were covered in cuts and bruises, but no major injuries.

"Will you come back to the Woodland realm?"

"If you'll have me," you chuckle. "Scars and all."

The king smiled and pulled you into his arms. He never gave up hope that you were alive, and here you were. Safe and sound in his arms. "I will. Now come, we have a battle to win."

You smirk and pull out your sword. "After you, my king."

A/n: so sorry this has taken so long, I'm on vacation this week.