Entry tags:
but don't make me your enemy
( from here. )
[ Adar is left alone for a night. Sauron finds him in the obsidian hallways of the palace, the parts he is allowed to frequent as a captain, standing at the end of a corridor when Adar turns. His robes are dark, simmering with a soft burn at the ends of his robes, and his eyes are the only light of any worth, fixed on his uruk. ]
[ Adar is left alone for a night. Sauron finds him in the obsidian hallways of the palace, the parts he is allowed to frequent as a captain, standing at the end of a corridor when Adar turns. His robes are dark, simmering with a soft burn at the ends of his robes, and his eyes are the only light of any worth, fixed on his uruk. ]
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Come.
[ He leads the way to a smaller hall, cosy by Angband's standards where a dining table has been set. Skulls sliced cleanly open above eyes, brains made into soup and pate, limbs roasted with honey and herbs, fruit pies with eyes melted atop, goblets of bloodwine fragranced with rose petals. A banquet of death.
He walks in, gesturing to a seat. ]
Eat.
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Must we? is clear on his face though he doesn't so much as mouth the words as he swallows and forces himself to go inside.] I see now why you did not bother to find me. [He was concocting an extension of his punishment, one that was almost dressed up like a reward (again) and would be to nearly anyone in Angband.
He tries not to look at them, but his other choice is his master who will surely turn his gaze back and so he finds himself staring at their young faces, ruined forever. He sits, but makes no move to take any of the food.]
Would you not run? [he asks, leaning back in the chair to look at him.] If it were Manwë here instead of Morgoth and you were some cog in his machine? Would you not try? [He asks but he knows, because Sauron would preserve himself at any cost. That was the core of his being, more than anything else.]
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My dear captain, take this as a gesture of apology. I have let you have too much freedom, too highly vaunted for your deeds, and you thought running a realistic option. It never was.
That was my fault.
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So he was pissed about Adar verbalising what they both knew, he supposed. That he had failed time and time again to make any other Uruks that compared to him, that he needed Adar and could not simply replace him with whatever elf wandered along next.]
You need not fear it happening again. [Not until he can stab you at the same time.] I have seen the error of my ways, my Lord.
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Eat, you will need your strength.
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May I ask why? [Probably not, but he felt compelled to try.]
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[ Wiping his mouth clean, he sits straight and rests his chin in a hand to watch his uruk picking mildly at the extravagantly prepared fare. ]
You have bred many in your time, your service has been noted. However, I have been busy and it is far too long since your position has been inverted.
I am going to breed you.
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If that is your wish. [It's not like he could say no and have it be worth the effort it took to expel the words from his lips.]
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It is.
[ He rises, taking a covered platter with him in one hand as he walks to Adar and sets it down nearby. Leaning in, he drops a soft kiss to the scarred skin where hair should grow. ]
But for a far stronger child to be born, as is true custom, I will need you willing.
[ The cover is lifted from the tray: elven broth, the same as what the marchwardens served, and clean water. It practically has its own little atmosphere of purity at the table. ]
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He had never been willing, not once, not for that, but his children were still stronger and smarter and better than the others so he blinks. Was Sauron after a new soldier or a replacement for him?]
The mother would need to be willing as well...
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Adar, [ he brushes his fingers through his uruk's remaining hair on the one side, petting it down on his shoulder, ] I am not made of skin and bone, my shape is only as you witness because I wish it. You and I are going to create a child, with your seed and my power.
And a lot of fucking, ostensibly. I will need much from you.
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You want to be a parent? [When he had pointed out that Sauron's experiments were failures, this was not what he meant! Yet he doesn't want to be too snarky because that broth is real food and he could so easily just smash the bowl of it against the wall and give Adar a thigh bone to chew on instead.]
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[ He leans down, bringing the broth closer. A kiss meets Adar's cheek. ]
Like you.
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He sighs softly. He really should hate him more than he did, it wasn't fair. With a soup spoon he eats some of the broth as he considers this whole situation.]
And you think this will earn you a better soldier? [Or a better Adar???? He really wants to ask without endangering his broth.]
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[ Oh, devious. Yes. ]
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He has more broth as he tries to think.]
Do you mean to do to it as you have done to me?
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[ He wanders behind Adar's chair, kneading at his shoulders. ]
Do you not wish for a trueborn son or daughter? Born in the dark, they will never fear it and truly be strong. [ He leans down, nuzzling a pointed ear as sweet words drip like belladonna. ] I would even let you name the babe.
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He nods because he doesn't trust himself to speak right now and does not want to think too much about the fact he naturally leaned towards his mouth as it spoke so softly and sweetly.
Sauron had had many terrifying ideas over the centuries, but this way by far the most frightening.]
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[ Taking the stoic silence as assent, he pats him on the shoulders and makes his way back down the table, robes swishing with his buoyed steps. He pauses to pick some apple slices out of the severed hand protruding from a dish (as if for help), popping them in his mouth, and he sends Adar a warm look of approval. ]
Finish your affairs downstairs, your duties from tonight are to personally serve the lieutenant of the fortress.
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Yes, my Lord. [As you wish, always. Even in this. When he is done with his food, every last drop drank from the bowl and the water finished he rises to his feet, and bows to Sauron slightly before he walks out to "finish his affairs" by which he can only assume Sauron means scream into his mouldy old pillow, because that is what he goes and does.
But not a full hour later he is back, about as clean as anyone who wasn't Sauron or Morgoth could manage in this hellhole, in his better set of clothes.] Master. [What do you want of him you overbroiled potato.]
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I must speak with Morgoth before ... we retire. You may come, but do not enter the throneroom.
[ That would explain why Sauron is at his full maian height. ]
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Is everything well? [he kind of hoped not, but it doesn't show in his voice at least, merely a gentle curiosity does instead.]
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[ That is all he answers with, a little more reserved than when delighted at dinner. All the way down to the throneroom he is silent and at the doors he leaves Adar outside. A crack remains to see through, the maia sweeping inside without waiting to be announced.
All is silent for a minute or so as they speak without words, then Sauron's fire flares to life and all the shadows shiver, thickening as they reach indoors to blot the light from sight. Amid the writhing storm of fire and gloom, two faintly discernible figures speak standing close, like ghosts having cast off their flesh; not entirely, they still resemble the forms used in Angband, but they glow. Even the darkness has an innate glimmer as it drinks down Sauron's brightness.
When they rest their foreheads together their shapes start to unravel and are painful to look at, but soon coalesce back into two separate entities. Sauron even reaches up to brush long dark hair from Melkor's scarred face under his crown of Silmarils.
Upon exiting the chamber and rejoining Adar, he is as hot as a torch in the darkness and the hem of his robes melts the floor. ]
... Come, then.
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Before he turns to walk back out to Adar the Uruk has already turned away from the door, standing like a soldier at the door. He both wished he knew what was said and was glad that he did not. He could only imagine it had something to do with his plan to bring half-maia children into the world.
Or a child, at least.
He hoped it was only one.
Adar follows, off to the side as they walk as he has never been inclined to lose a foot to the melted stone that Sauron so often leaves in his wake
like the dramatic bitch he is. Unlike usual, he doesn't say anything or ask anything. His mouth is dry, his arm throbs, he does his best to not think about anything more than keeping track of where they were in the palace.]no subject
He opens the door for Adar, a polite and calculated move; only slightly taller now. He can sense something is off with his uruk, an unease that makes him hold his tongue. ]
Would you like a drink?
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