"I'll handle it, my Lord. I will send emissaries to the village. The creatures would be easily persuaded."
"No. Raze the damned village to the ground. I will make an example of them: let the fate of those cooperating with my enemies be whispered in terror across the land for years to come."
"That village is situated most strategically. We could use some allies in that area. If we draw them to our side and fortify the place properly, the ongoing benefits would far exceed any shock value retribution might procure. My spies are among them and their reports are good: I know all their weaknesses, all their hidden desires. They'd gladly kneel if I make the right proposition."
"I said, burn them."
"My Lord, I must insist…"
"No."
"Why?" the question was blatant, annoyed.
"Out." Morgoth spit, his eyes fixed balefully on his Lieutenant. The hall emptied immediately, its occupants scurrying out of harm's way. The Maia remained, back straight as a steel rod and his arms folded behind him, meeting his gaze full on. Suspicion has been gnawing at the Vala's mind for some time now, only making him more acutely aware of the pain in his head where that terrible crown dug into flesh. And this has already been a very trying day.
"You are very good at your job, aren't you, Lieutenant?"
"Yes."
"One might say my subjects are more terrified of you than they are of me. Perhaps they even consider you to be the King of Arda yourself?"
"Not by any action of mine."
"Indeed?" This was ridiculous. The implications were getting too transparent, even for this insolent wretch.
"Anything I do is for your glory, my lord and master." he explained, bowing elegantly, not losing his composure. A heavy silence followed, interrupted only by the tapping of one blackened finger against the iron armrest.
"I will forever be amazed by your ability to keep your face perfectly innocent while lying through your teeth," Morgoth said quietly, noting with satisfaction the alarm that finally crept into Mairon's eyes. "You are a deceitful little traitor, ever seeking to supplant me – "
"What? No, my Lord! I'm loyal – "
"Silence!" the Vala roared, suddenly rising from the throne and backhanding Mairon across the face. He caught the falling Maia and grabbed him by the temples, almost crushing his head. "I will have the truth, one way or another."
The Maia's mental defenses were very strong. Morgoth even helped him erect some of them, and he built further upon his foundations. But now they crumbled before him like paper consumed by fire. Mairon screamed in pain underneath him, slowly sinking to his knees, but Morgoth didn't care. He rummaged through his memories and thoughts, viciously pushing aside and trampling tender structures to find a hint of betrayal, not finding any. This angered him even more. He drilled deeper in. The thoughts were becoming more raw and intimate as he went, coming down at last to mere flames and notes of Music. Ignoring the flood of Maiarin emotions begging him to stay his hand, he breached the Core of Mairon's mind with more violence than could ever be needed. Then he stopped, shaken.
At the Core of an Ainu's mind Holiness dwelt. Try as he did, even Morgoth could not eradicate it from his own soul. And in the Maia's innermost sanctum, now violated and inflamed, Morgoth saw his own image.
He saw himself rising above the face of molten Arda, a great spirit of fury and might, creator and destroyer with a cloak of darkness swirling around him to devour all light. His word shattered matter; his glance made time stop and brought down the stars from the sky. His laughter crushed the soul, only to set it free. He was regal, magnificent, a true god. Mairon's scraped spirit still muttered little prayers, barely audible above the susurrus of blood in his temples.
He had not been this glorious being for ages now. He was shriveled, confined to this beaten and scarred mortal body. His power was diminished beyond recognition and his mind eaten away by hate. And yet, the Maia still saw him the way he used to be. He looked at him now, crumpled into a heap on the stone floor.
"I'm loyal, I love you…" he sobbed again and again, his voice never rising above a whisper. He was bleeding from his eyes and nose. Melkor let go of his head and sat down beside him with a thump. After a moment he put his arm around his shoulders. Mairon's arms shot forward and wrapped around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline. He caressed the mess of red hair in his lap, not saying anything. There was nothing left to say.
After a while Mairon stirred, trying to get up. Melkor pushed him back down gently and then picked him up himself and walked out of the throne room, leaving the accursed crown on the floor.
"Water to the Lieutenant's rooms," he said dismissively to a passing Orc who scrambled away to do his bidding.
Mairon's rooms were lushly furnished, a flurry of velvets and silks, all fire-colored and embroidered in gold. Thick furs covered the stone floor, glinting in the firelight. A servant had already filled the large copper bath with boiling water, scented with the Maia's favorite herbs.
Mairon was silent as Melkor undressed him, only sighing in relief as he was lowered into the scalding water, kept hot by a fire lit beneath the tub. Melkor knelt beside the bath and rubbed the blood off Mairon's face and hair with a washing cloth, admiring how the fire reflected off the rivulets of water running down the Maia's skin. Then Mairon opened his reddened eyes.
"I will send troops to the village first thing tomorrow morning," he whispered. "They will skewer the heads of every living creature on the village paling. The stench would be felt a hundred leagues away."
"Do that."
Mairon did not say anything again until he lay in bed, half covered by a wolf pelt. He worried his lip, as if struggling with himself, and at last he spoke.
"Torture me any way you want, Master, but please don't do that again. Please. Just not that."
"Don't give me reasons to do it. Hush now." He turned to leave, but the Maia grabbed his hand and kissed it, peering wordlessly into his eyes. He smiled a small, bitter smile, and shook his hand free.
"I will see you tomorrow, Mairon."