I in no way, shape, or formcondone, sympathize with, or excuse any of Mairon's deeds. I do not see him as a 'misunderstood villain'. I strongly believe that he most likely suffered from Morgoth many times, but still do not excuse him, or think that he was doing evil 'blindly'. I do believe that some of his service may have been out of fear, but he was also willing, and extremely evil. I merely think Mairon is a very interesting character.
This is the darkest thing I have ever/probably will ever write.
I do not ship him with Morgoth, or Eönwë. I view the relationship between him and Eönwë as brotherly, nothing more.
Mairon slunk into a corner of the dungeon, wrapping his arms about his knees and shivering. The wrath of Morgoth after he had come back from Tol-in-Gaurhoth had been terrible. Indeed, he had nearly ripped him to pieces, learning that he had lost it to Lúthien Tinúviel.
Burying his head in his arms, he tried to remember if Aulë had ever gotten angry at him for failing a task before. He did not think so, but if he had, it must not have been such vicious, uncontrolled anger. Because Mairon would not forget that.
Blood dripped from his arm and face. He had cleaned himself up as well as he could, but not fully.
--
"Thou hast failed me." Morgoth had said calmly, though the malice in his voice was unmistakable.
"No my lord, have mercy." Mairon pleaded, falling to his hands and knees before Morgoth's throne.
"Mercy? I know it not." He replied, his tone more angry now. He grabbed a handful of Mairon's hair and twisted his head upwards, turning his eyes to meet him.
"Dog!" He spat, the back of his hand lifting and striking Mairon's face, hard enough for the Maia to stumble backwards. "Get up!"
Mairon stood, his head hanging. "I shall not fail thee again."
Morgoth laughed. "No. No you shall not." Grabbing Mairon, he twisted his arm until it had left the socket, eliciting a strangled cry.
"You will never, never fail me again!" Morgoth dug his nails into the flesh of Mairon's arm.
"Aiya! I have not done this since I held that damned Fëanorian!" He exclaimed, watching the blood trickle down Mairon's arm.
"My lord, please, do not."
Morgoth backhanded him. "I do not remember giving thee permission to speak."
Mairon stood, trembling as Morgoth's hand crept up his face. "It is a shame, really. I never wished to hurt thee."
--
Mairon shuddered and closed his eyes, not wishing the memories to return.
It was not often that he felt such raw emotion, but he was, and he could not stop it. Perhaps pain brought back something of the old him that he had forgotten.
A tear trickled down his cheek as he thought about life before- before Morgoth.
"Eönwë," he whispered to the darkness. Blue eyes flashed before his mind, holding out something to him. What was it? A flower? He could not remember. Nothing seemed clear anymore. Nothing other than the Darkness. And Morgoth.