i

Hëdwig of House Haleth had bled herself dry in giving him the child. He looked upon the babe, whining softly, and his lips curled inwardly. He looked like his mother, dark haired, with the same small face, more oval than round. Frail limbs kicked about. "Take him away."

Edging to her bed, he ignored the bloody sheets and the coolness of her skin. He took her hand in his. Mairon had loved her briefly before coming into his true power. Her faer was trying to break away from her body. The tip of his tongue pushed against the teeth ridge in annoyance. Did she really think he would let her go now? After all this, she was more his than she'd been in the golden halls and sprawling field they'd travelled together.

Sauron bend down to her, his face hovering above Hëdwig's. The pale light of her life glowed weakly. He could feel her shallow breathing against his face. Silver-blonde against the dark of her brown tresses, bone straight and splashed on the pillow. Her empty eyes looked at him, their cold warmth, glassy and misted, and the utter darkness, the voice of earth so strong in them. Mairon had been fascinated by them, wide and trusting, as she'd melted into him all those moons ago. And that mouth, curved in an almost smile-grimace. That mouth that had whispered in his ear as he'd devoured her bit by bit, taking all those parts of her soul that she'd left unguarded. A slender neck, adorned with rows of pearls, white and gleaming, forming a shield of alabaster.

Bringing his fingers to the fragile strings Sauron considered his options. Then, with the grace of his kind, he picked one of the white pearls and pulled them savagely away from her. Thin lines of angry red decorated her neck. His hands lowered over her the faer that had started ascending from her breast, and he pushed it back ruthlessly. "You'll leave only when I give you permission to," he thundered, binding the spirits within the flesh with his dark magic. He would not accept this, their attempt to take what was his from him. "Only when I have tired of you may you depart." Fingers touched the warming flesh of her throat.

She opened her lips just a fraction, a curse no doubt. He'd missed the sight of her. Sauron allowed his hands to fall to her shoulders, then down her arms. Let her curse his name, let her thought be consumed by him, let her be possessed by him.

ii

Once she'd been a foolish little girl who had fallen for sweet songs and bright eyes of starlight. Hëdwig opened her eyes, a river of abhorrence in her gaze. She'd love him once, and she loved him now, but she also hated him.

For the touch of his hand upon her skin, leaving behind a desert, she hated him. For the kiss of his mouth to hers, tasting of blood, she hated him. But as much as she loathed him, she belonged to him, tendrils of darkness wrapping tighter and tighter around her, stopping any attempt at escape.

"You have no right," she hissed, her voice cracking. This should have been her defiance, to die in childbed. She could have gone far away, away from the clutch of his familiar, sickening fingers. She'd thought it would be enough to have him see her covered in blood, and broken, and dying for this jailor of hers to let go. It hadn't.

"But I do," he replied easily, face still above hers. His lips touched hers, his hands took hers, fingers entwined. The dark magic in the tip of his fingers burned her. He seemed not to care. Rather than his body pressing down on hers it was his faer that anchored her to this prison of flesh and bones and raw emotions.

"I hate you." And the poison in her soul was slowly spreading to every corner, every extremity, every crevice filled to the point of refuse. That angelic face, and cold eyes, and wicked, wicked mouth. She hated all of him, this beast who had tricked her into becoming his. He'd forced his admiration of her little by little, day by day, until she cracked and broke and gave in.

Even now she could feel the gaping wound inside of her. He'd taken away everything, stripping her to the crude structure, the primordial essence of herself. That he'd held into the palm of his hands, and when she'd trusted him, his hand formed as fist and made her prisoner. "I hate you."

"I know." He watched her as if it mattered not at all what she felt. And perhaps it didn't. Not to him who had in his grasp. Threadbare, her heart accepted his touch as it had always done. This despicable fiend. "I know you do." And then he let go.

Because she knew he'd come again, Hëdwig didn't dare hope.