#silmarillions

In the great depths of Angband, Melkor sought refuge in his companion. Mighty he had been, now lay weakened in the chamber—blood spilled from the gaping flesh; a trail of defeat from the battle.

Rare it was for an Ainur to bear a pain only known to the Eldar. A great being such as he, would be left untouched in his strength, but as The Sun had conquered the darkness, his power dwindled. The kingdoms he proudly built, had been taken by the last remaining light of The trees—how The Valar mocked him so.

Mairon shed the armor that Melkor wore with care, looking upon the injuries on his body. His face unreadable as his fingers traced over the bruises and the scars on his Lord's vessel. Gentle was his touch, reserved only to him. It was the peace that he sought, before a discovery of a wound interrupted it.

Melkor expressed pain greater than that of The Eldar, as his roar echoed through Angband. His legions shivered when his voice touched them. He peered down to the thumb of his lieutenant where he saw a sickly brown gash, reopened once more.

"Fret not, my lord. It is naught but an old wound." Mairon soothed the dark lord with a honeyed song. A melody all too familiar in his present, though with the same detachement in his eyes. He brought forth supplies from the side of the desk, as he carefully mend the opened wound. He brought the stitches to his lord vessel carefully, piercing the skins together.

Melkor then, winced similar to that of a snake.

For once in his life, Melkor was shaken. Pride no longer settled in his heart, for uncertainty had taken its place. His lieutenant sensed this, for fear flickered in his golden eyes.

Mairon turned his attention from the wound he's tending, to the face of his lord. Even in horror, allure graced his vessel. Such a sight provided comfort to the uneased Melkor.

"You shall not leave me," Mairon then warned in his true voice, though void of any sound that are familiar to the ear, it trembled with a great fury. "You have taken me from the guidance of Aulë. You have taken me to a life of darkness, where I acted as a lamp for your cause. Then you abandoned me for the very light that detest you. Do not fool yourself, O Morgoth, for my presence comes not from your false promises, but from my own choices. I have sworn myself to you as Ossë once did, only that, I chose to wait for you. You are mine, as I am yours. Not even your undoing can take you away from me."

Melkor found bliss in the cruel reminder, for he smiled with joy. His darkened finger then reached for his companion hair, a sight full of glory for he shone as the flames that sorrounded them. Frailed he may be, yet his sweet voice slipped from his lips with a deep rasp. "How loyal The Admirable one is to me. Always there to assist."

"You do not listen."

"I do, my Admirable One." There was sadness in his song, before he continue to spoke. His finger traced from his hair to his cheek, then to his neck. "But I will not be here long. All that is mighty will be replaced. Time is ever changing. Death or The Void will take me, but I shall not forget you. For even in darkness I shall be there with you, for you have binded yourself to me. Your light shall be my company in my punishment."

"You can not leave me here for what you did to me. I served for you. I lived for you. I sacrificed everything for you." Despair now filled his words. His voice spreaded further and stronger than that of Melkor.

"My Admirable One," there was silence from Melkor, yet his smile remained. He then, laughed—a bright laughed that was honest of love. "You will do well. You are beautiful and mightier than me. I will remember you as you will remember me. My kingdom shall be yours. You will succeed where I failed."

A sorrow, so unspeakeable, and beyond the knowledge of The Eldar, filled the room. The fire dimmed and now the darkness held over the chamber. A kiss to his companion forehead, from the cold lips of The Dark Lord, as he embraced Mairon in his arms.