[He doesn't doubt he thinks so, and sometimes it even feels real. But he knows in his heart he is more of a possession or a pet, a plaything. The love that he has for Sauron, in spite of it all, isn't like that. It burns a hole in his chest, too real and too much like what he might have known if he was left to his people all these years.
His soul was so bound to Sauron that he didn't think he could ever love another this way. The imprint of maia hands was on his heart, all over his body even now with his flesh as smooth as silkstone.]
I know.
[As long as he behaves, as long as his master is happy, as long as nothing he talks back to him with is shared in company or too sharp or too true. As long as Sauron doesn't crave the sounds he makes when hurt, again, or have another idea on how to improve him.]
no subject
His soul was so bound to Sauron that he didn't think he could ever love another this way. The imprint of maia hands was on his heart, all over his body even now with his flesh as smooth as silkstone.]
I know.
[As long as he behaves, as long as his master is happy, as long as nothing he talks back to him with is shared in company or too sharp or too true. As long as Sauron doesn't crave the sounds he makes when hurt, again, or have another idea on how to improve him.]