He clings to him as Melkor recounts his time in the Void; a time without time, more accurately. Hands peel free so a palm can press against his Master's cheek, warmer than the rest of Sauron and just for Melkor. An anchor.

He is sweating, sickening. Sliding to his feet, Sauron wavers but determinedly brushes back through inky black hair to cup a strong jaw. He has been wronged beyond all cruelty.

Evil they are, assuredly, in deeds and words with others, but never each other. Mairon recalls the beautiful Vala who caught his eye on Almaren and holds fast to him still.

"You will never be parted from me again, not even if Eru Himself wills it. I will stop such a course of action dead."

Fingertips slip over his Master's lips, curling their way back up a nose and across a brow as if painting him back into reality. The air is so refreshing, this rotten world could be Valinor for all he cares. He has what he wants.

"Whether you are diminished or not, if this is to be our lot, your claim upon me still stands the test of time. In any land, I am no one's but yours." His voice hushes. "I cannot heal you in turn or right the wrongs that cast you into the Void, but I will not suffer a distance between us again, I will take it into myself first so that you may go free.

"I only ask that you stay with me of your own volition if given the chance, in this world and all others."