A/N: Essentially more of the past chapter for now because I feel I was not exactly finished with it. We will escape Valinor soon, promise XD

...for lies and betrayal were things only Melkor could be capable of, of which Mairon could never be.
But Sauron was.

Sauron had existed prior to Melkor's direct influence, although the influence was essentially always there. Mairon to Sauron had been more of maturing than a sudden change-that part of him seemed to be waiting for the right moment, the ideal opportunity to take form. The thoughts had come independently, and it did not seem right to attribute them to the effects of the music of Melkor. Mairon despised it when he first heard it, anyway. He had tried to change the song back to how it started: rich, powerful, endless. Melkor's song contained discord and confusion. And so, in the beginning, he had initially not taken well to the disruption of harmony.

But his thoughts yet overwhelmed him, to the point where he could never see himself as the perfect Maia he was acclaimed to be. When he would bow to Manwe, the lord of Aman would look down on him and smile, for Manwe saw only the good. And Mairon would hide the inner workings of his mind as best he could, afraid that others would know that which he wanted: the order of things under his command and to his liking, more than anything. And had Melkor not finally approached him, he may have attempted, some way, to attain what he desired.

But the dark god distracted him from any possible plan or strategy he could devise for himself. Melkor made him want to shy away from his own plans that seemed so flimsy, so futile compared to those of a god.

And the Vala was the only one he dared share his thoughts with, for anything that deviated from the direct will of Eru was frowned upon, and because Melkor would listen to (or pretend to, which was not uncommon) and occasionally hold brief conversations with him.

When the lamps had been placed and Mairon first beheld their light, Melkor had managed to sneak up on him and had remained there for an unaccountable amount of time before speaking.

"Do you not find that light accursed?" He was not looking at Mairon, but rather following his line of sight to the lamps with a scowl, contempt dripping from his words.

No, Mairon had not. But he did ever after; they became a representation of a relentless, prying gaze that turned accusing once it revealed what lay within, that which he always tried to conceal.

Slowly, gradually, the views of Melkor became embedded and remained with Mairon, welcomed by this other part of him that praised the Vala for having no shame, and he was then drawn to the dark god. He gave his subtle aid to all of Melkor's projects and prided himself on his slyness. But Melkor seemed to be oblivious to all of it; and though it frustrated him, Mairon let it slide if only to witness the Vala's pleased countenance. That expression was worth more to him than the entire workmanship of Arda, and the only thing more satisfying was to have that look directed at him.


Melkor was released at a hectic time for the Valar, when they worried so for the firstborn, all alone in Arda. They had little time for their troubled captive, although he was always present, and now they had needed him. Mairon volunteered to fetch him, knocking at his door where he dwelt as a servant to Tulkas.

"GO AWAY, TULKAS! I refuse to continue with your degrading domestic activities!" Melkor's voice blared from inside the dwelling, surprising Mairon with its boldness.

He opened the door, spilling light from the Trees into the darkness of the room and into the face of Melkor. Outside, he kept up a fair demeanor and pleasing facade, but in here, isolated from others, his black hair hung ungroomed in his eyes. His stare was fierce and filled with loathing, taking in the sight of Mairon with a cold indifference while he rubbed his face in memory of where he had been punched by the one he just detestedly addressed.

Mairon awkwardly glimpsed the remnants of the chain of Angainor that bound yet to Melkor's wrists.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want?" Melkor narrowed his eyes at the form of the Maia standing at his door. He hated the way the Maiar regarded him, so coolly, as though they had no reason to fear him. Who was going to save them? Manwë?

And Mairon was among the worst; Aulë's pride and joy, always standing by him. The light from beyond the door made his bright hair shine, portraying him as the sparkling gift of Eru that everyone thought he was.

But there was hope for this one, Melkor noted.

"The Valar require your presence," Mairon informed him in the nonchalant tone he hated.

"And they sent a blacksmith to tell me that? Am I now unworthy of even a herald?"

His bitter words did little to affect Mairon. "Eönwë could not be bothered."

The hostility faded somewhat from Melkor's eyes as he studied him with an emotion Mairon could not read. Unsure, he stepped back some.

Melkor fixed his hair, smoothing it back effortlessly. Grinning smugly, he passed through the door Mairon held open for him. Why couldn't he wait on him like this everyday? Why Aulë?

Mairon remained at his side while they walked the street, before Melkor suddenly stopped and frowned at him. "Mairon."

The Maia paused, waiting a second before seeming to understand. "Would you rather I did not accompany you?"

"You may, but only if you walk behind me. I'm not sure where you get the nerve to walk at my side."

It was puzzling to Mairon why the Vala's behavior was not kept in check with him, yet he glossed over all of his words around the other Ainur-Tulkas excluded, though he did hold back the full extent of his anger to avoid a fight. Nevertheless, Mairon merely smiled and took his place behind Melkor. Both were aware that Mairon was disobeying orders in treating Melkor as a respected superior, and this made the Vala's ego swell.

But once before Taniquetil, his entire visage changed. He became a humbled and awe-inspired guest of Valinor, bowing before each of the Valar. For a split moment his eyes met Mairon's as the latter took position beside Aulë, and he knew then that the Maia was well aware of his pretense. His face hardened and his eyes regained their coldness, and for the second time Mairon alone had witnessed the true Melkor without his defenses. Melkor became fearful; but Mairon could not read him then, as he later could better than anyone, and saw only the threat.


Melkor was very wary of this Maia now. He was openly questioning his authority, only to feign subordinance, and likely told Aule about Melkor's rash behavior. And the Noldor just about worshiped him...nearly how Melkor should have been worshiped. Yes, Mairon was more dangerous than Eönwë now, who was constantly spying on him, yet "Could not be bothered" with him most of the time-his fury nearly built up at the thought, but he laughed it off. Eönwë was Manwë's Maia, of course he couldn't be bothered doing anything.

He glanced over to where Mairon was demonstrating...something to do with forging for Mahtan. He did not particularly care about that, unless they were planning to send everything they made to him as tribute.

He observed Mairon closely. He could not fully despise the Maia; after all, he was useful. And he had hard, strong features. Melkor could do something with that...he could make them intimidating. But Mairon was much, much too loyal. Oh yes, he was in awe of the dark god, anyone could see that. But he probably lacked the nerve. Which was fine...at least it meant he was cautious. Many of the other Maiar that Melkor had converted had regretted their decision soon after. He laughed aloud at the memory, causing the elves around him obvious discomfort. For some reason, their high-pitched giggles were accepted, whereas his sadistic laughter was never welcomed.

He decided to pay the Maia visits in his own forge. At first he was hoping to intimidate him, but Mairon seemed to actually...enjoy his presence. Perhaps he just liked to show off, because he was surely doing enough of that, and Melkor struggled to hide his envy and amazement. But he knew that he had little chance to sway the Maia to his side...and he would certainly need assistance for any devious plans. He would just have to make another attempt and wait until the Maia was alone. He used the only weapon he had against Mairon, that being their past conversations, usually centered around the flawed governing system of Valinor-if he remembered correctly...sometimes he had merely pretended to listen.

He promised Mairon control, to set order as he so desired. At first he figured that his plan would fail and the Maia would be lost from his clutches forever, but it appeared that he had strung the right chord. Mairon looked up and a fire seemed to light up his eyes, fastened intensely on Melkor. The Vala actually had to ease off somewhat; the fire in Mairon was strong, even to a god.

But it was thrilling.

You're mine, Mairon.


Those eyes had still not lost their spark when Melkor met up with them on the outskirts of Valinor. The Maia always waited patiently in the darkness before Silpion began its bloom, and Melkor enjoyed to simply hide and watch the visible battle of determination and uncertainty in his features; determination always won out, especially once Melkor showed up. It fascinated him that he barely had to fuel Mairon's desires to achieve his loyality.

Mairon stepped forward when confronted by his lord and bowed respectfully. "None are informed of your whereabouts, Lord Melkor."

Just recently suspicions had been aroused, speculating the existence of a spy amongst the Ainur. Mairon, of course, had been glanced over immediately without second thought. Much of the blame actually ended up going to Mandos, as he was a frequent scapegoat when Melkor was absent, and Mairon often wondered why he remained ever faithful and unmoved.

"Except for you, Mairon. How do I know I can trust you?"

Mairon tilted his head upwards. "My Lord, I did not come to you in the midst of your beginning glory to bask in it, and forsake you in your darkest hour."

"You were not with me in my beginning glory."

"That would not have been convenient for me, would it?"

Melkor did a double-take, hearing his words. He battled between emotions and would have lashed out, had he not beheld Mairon's calm, assured expression before him. The Maia was stealthy...he did not simply jump in before scoping out the danger.

"You are crafty. But insolent."

The Maia smiled bitterly. "Aye, but I am yours now; and whosoever dares to go up against the might of Melkor thereby invokes the insolence of Mairon."

A wide grin settled over the god's face like a shadow, and Mairon at last was at the receiving end of Melkor's satisfaction.

"You're darker than I thought, Maia."