[He once had been truly good, a long time ago before the trees died and darkness took root in him and so many of the Noldor. The praise tickles something in the back of his mind, like a memory of a desire he cannot quite grasp or put into words. The shadow of a need, ancient and primal that he cannot shake.
No more did he think he was actually good. Better, maybe, but the bar was literally in hell when it came to who he had to compare himself to. He is angry and broken and twisted strangely in a way that only feels whole when he is with Sauron. He doesn't even think he is that obedient to Sauron. He takes liberties, as his master had been quick to point out. Thinks highly of himself. Knows his worth in a way that makes him dangerous.
Yet the words still work on him.]
I– [He wants to protest, to squirm, to pull away but he is frozen there, looking at his master, his lover, the closest thing he had left right now to a friend.] I am your boy– [he tries, then swallows, cheeks burning hotter still. He feels like a furnace set to explode.] Your good boy.
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No more did he think he was actually good. Better, maybe, but the bar was literally in hell when it came to who he had to compare himself to. He is angry and broken and twisted strangely in a way that only feels whole when he is with Sauron. He doesn't even think he is that obedient to Sauron. He takes liberties, as his master had been quick to point out. Thinks highly of himself. Knows his worth in a way that makes him dangerous.
Yet the words still work on him.]
I– [He wants to protest, to squirm, to pull away but he is frozen there, looking at his master, his lover, the closest thing he had left right now to a friend.] I am your boy– [he tries, then swallows, cheeks burning hotter still. He feels like a furnace set to explode.] Your good boy.