Edited 17-11-12. Probably now rated M, but I'm not bumping up the story rating for one paragraph.


He hadn't wanted to come. Morgoth was furious. He had been humiliated in his own hall, and had lost a Silmaril. Never mind that if he himself had fallen under Lúthien's power, Sauron had no chance against her. In Morgoth's mind, if Sauron had killed Beren, none of this would have happened. So Morgoth decided all the blame for this fiasco rested squarely on the shoulders of his lieutenant.

Understandably, this made Sauron extremely nervous, and he wished he could be anywhere but here. But his Master had called, and Sauron could not ignore the summons.

Arriving before the throne, Sauron bowed deeply, remaining half hunched over, hoping against hope that his obvious display of fear and contrition might soften the punishment that was sure to follow.

"Look at me," Morgoth commanded, his voice a low, soft growl. Sauron mentally gulped. This was the most furious he had ever seen his fell master, and he had been there when Draugluin and Glaurung had displeased Morgoth enough to end up as his next 'projects'. This was not going to end well.

Slowly, he raised his head and eyes to the Vala in front of him. As soon as he did so, Morgoth's hand shot out, wrapping around his throat, fingers burying themselves into the scabbed over wounds that Huan had left, reopening them. Sauron was unable to stop himself from wincing in pain, but he did not cry out. Doing so would only encourage the Vala to hurt him worse to see what other reactions he could provoke.

"Do you know what has occurred here since you lost Tol Sirion?" Morgoth asked rhetorically. "I have lost a Silmaril to a elleth and a mortal. And then I find out that you had the mortal in your power and you–didn't–kill–him." On the last words he tightened his grip, leaving Sauron unable to fully reach the floor, almost hanging in Morgoth's grasp by his already damaged neck.

"So this entire humiliation can be laid at your feet," Morgoth continued. "And I am in no mood to forgive this failure."

With that, the full force of his will slammed into Sauron's mental defenses, effortlessly destroying them. Sauron's back arced, a psychic shriek escaping him as the Vala's fury tore through him.

Morgoth ripped into the young Maia's memories, taking the pleasant memories he cherished and destroyed or bound them, laying heavy blocks in his mind. He left alone Sauron's technical knowledge, as that was still useful to the Vala. Once the only memories that the Maia still retained were technical in nature, or ones he hated or regretted, Morgoth cruelly pushed deeper into Sauron's mind, tearing another mental scream from the Maia. The fallen Vala forced his way into the core of Sauron's very being, violating his mind and soul as Melkor's hatred and malice damaged the delicate parts of Sauron's fëa that created who the Maia truly was.

With the hand still gripping Sauron's throat, Morgoth threw him across the room into the wall. He lay crumpled at the base of it, glassy eyes seeing nothing, unable to even think after the brutality he'd been subjected to.

"Gothmog," Morgoth ordered. The Lord of the Balrogs moved forward and bowed, torn between fear of his master's wrath, and hope that he would finally get to take revenge against his hated rival.

"You may do what you will with him," Morgoth continued. Gothmog grinned, bowed again, and moved forward. Sauron was unable to resist as burning hands grabbed his upper arms, hauling him upright.

"Oh, and Gothmog," Morgoth continued. Gothmog paused, and looked back at the Lord of Angband. "Do what you will, but do not destroy the fána. Otherwise it will be you who faces my wrath next."

"Yes, my lord," the Balrog-lord said, bowing once more. Turning, he continued to drag the Maia who was responsible for him being stuck in this hideous form into the bowels of Angband. Only the orcs and the Noldorin slaves who sadly toiled here knew of the full horror that lay in the depths. He grinned. Revenge would be sweet.

Gothmog pulled the dazed Maia through Angband, until he reached the little used smaller chamber. Generally, the slaves were punished in one big room; seeing the evidence of what was in store for them, and hearing the screams of their fellows increased their fear wonderfully.

But this was his revenge. He didn't want an audience.

Slowly, almost gently, he grasped Sauron's wrists, shackling them to the hanging chains in the center of the room. Then he used his claws to shred the other Maia's tunic, until Sauron was bare from the waist up. Again, with exaggerated gentleness, he pushed Sauron's long black hair over his shoulder, exposing his back.

"What do you want?" Sauron finally spat out, voice flat and emotionless, still fighting to recover from Morgoth's psychic assault. Gothmog grinned.

"From you?" he asked, voice almost a purr. "Nothing but your screams."

With that, he brought his fire whip hissing down on the other Maia's unprotected back. Sauron jerked, but otherwise didn't react. Gothmog hadn't expected anything else. Morgoth had nothing against hurting his followers for the smallest of infractions, or simply for his own pleasure. Sauron had escaped a good deal of it, simply because of how good he was at what he did, but he still knew how to hide his reactions. Morgoth's fascination for the pain of others made it a necessity for those who served him.

Undeterred, Gothmog continued until finally a small, explosive gasp tore from Sauron's lips. Instantly he stopped, and setting down the fire whip, moved in to take the other Maia in his arms. He pulled in, feeling damaged flesh against his own.

"What was that I heard?" he asked rhetorically. "Am I finally breaking through that vaunted composure of yours?"

Keeping one arm snaked around the Maia's chest, Gothmog moved to grip to Sauron's upper left arm. Then, in one fluid move, he snapped it. Sauron's back arched, and he finally screamed, the pain of the broken arm adding to the pain of his back. Gothmog chuckled; a dark, pleased sound.

"There," he murmured to the gasping Maia in his arms. "That's all I want. Not so hard, is it?" Gothmog stroked the dark hair, then tangled his fingers in it, pulling back the smaller Maia's head, giving him a light kiss.

"Now then," Gothmog continued, letting go. "I've been rather neglectful, haven't I? Here I've only been paying attention to your back." With that he removed boots and trousers, leaving Sauron hanging naked in chains.

"Much better," Gothmog muttered, as he swung the fire whip again. He continued mercilessly, as Sauron's screams echoed in the small chamber. When the screams began to quiet, as the pain completely overloaded the Maia's system, he finally stopped. But it was only to take the other Maia in his arms again.

"No, no, you can't stop now," he said. "I'm enjoying this so much, you see. I've waited for such a long time for you to slip up, make a mistake, and let me take my revenge." Gothmog grinned, and shifted his grip to Sauron's right thigh. Then, using his knee as leverage, snapped the femur. Sauron's anguished scream echoed around the chamber, and Gothmog did nothing for a moment, savoring his enemy's pain.

With an evil grin, Gothmog reached up and grasped Sauron's right forearm.

"Do you want me to snap this one too?" he asked the barely conscious Maia. "Leave you helpless? You already cannot walk, do you want to be unable to use your arms as well?" The dark haired Maia frantically shook his head. Gothmog's grin widened.

"Then beg," he whispered.

"Please," rasped Sauron, voice nearly gone. "Please, no."

"Hmm," grinned Gothmog, enjoying the humiliation he was inflicting on the other Maia. "Not quite good enough." He increased pressure on Sauron's arm.

"Please," Sauron whispered hoarsely. "Please don't. Please."

With a truly evil grin that Sauron couldn't see, Gothmog released his arm. Sauron slumped in relief. Then with a quick move, Gothmog moved to his other forearm, and snapped it. Again, an anguished scream echoed in the small chamber.

"There," Gothmog whispered. "You still have one working arm." Sauron couldn't hear him, the pain had finally sent him into the release of unconsciousness. Gothmog frowned, thoughtfully. He could rouse the other Maia and continue, but he was mindful of his orders. He sighed. The last few hours had been delightful, but he knew that he would receive the same treatment if he disobeyed. Regretfully, he unchained the unresponsive Maia, and dragged him away.


He was lying on a cold stone floor. He only knew it because he was shivering. The pain was too intense to take notice of any of his surroundings. He whimpered in pain and winced, his throat raw from screaming. He didn't think he was bleeding anywhere but his neck, but that was only because the fire whips cauterized the wounds they left.

He didn't want to think about that. He tried to push the memory away, but was unable too, his mind still in turmoil from what Morgoth had done to him. Distracted as he was, trying to create order out of the chaos that was his mind and body, he jumped when someone ran a finger down his still bleeding throat. He screamed despite himself as that movement re-woke the agony that devoured what had once been a nicely working fána. The scream hurt too, his throat hurting more than the rest of his physical form, if that were even possible.

Once the pain had died down slightly, he opened glazed golden eyes to peer at the world around him, wanting to know who was with him. A pure, holy light met his unfocused gaze. He promptly shut his eyes again. Not who he wanted to see. Even Gothmog would have been better. And after what he had done to him, that was saying something.

"Ah, Mairon," Morgoth's voice was smooth and gentle. "Why do you make me do this?"

Sauron didn't answer, unable to speak with his damaged throat.

"It's your fault you know," Morgoth continued, pouring poison into the already shattered thoughts of the Maia. "If you would simply be better, I wouldn't have to do this. I'm doing it for your own good. You need to be punished for your mistakes, or you'll never learn from them. I'm doing it because I want you to be better than you are now. You have wonderful potential. But you can't start making mistakes."

Morgoth gently ran his hand down the broken body of the helpless Maia before him. Sauron shuddered, incapable of hiding his reactions like he normally did. Morgoth gripped Sauron's upper arm, tightening his grasp to painful levels. The arm was broken, Sauron remembered with an odd floating detachment.

"Disincarnate," Morgoth growled. "Disincarnate and get out."

On his fourth try, Sauron was able to do just that, not realizing as he fled Angband that his once steady golden aura was now mostly black with red and orange fragments, shattered and distorted.