Author's Note: I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Apparently I just want to kill Featho. I don't actually think he dies here. I think Sauron does in fact save him, but I cut it off, because…I just…don't really know what this is.

So I am toying with a sequel. The problem that I am having, is that it's basically a rehash of TYW. Father and son have a massive misunderstanding and then conflict ensues, and then maybe they work things out, and in the background Arda's destroyed, but who cares, because family drama is more interesting. Because no one cares millions of people just died, you know? Because sue-ish bad-fic drama is cooler…and I'm really unhappy with all my ideas thus far.

I think it really would be fun to see Featho and Sauron interacting Morgoth. But…the idea doesn't seem to carry over to a larger set up, so…

Part of it, boils down to incentive… like there's a reason I started TYW: to see if a tenth-walker fic featuring a child of Sauron could actually be done reasonably well. We'll have to see how that turns out.

I just don't have that. There's no major overarching hypothetical question I'm trying to answer.

Not that aren't questions I'd want to answer.

Can a Shelob/OC pairing be compelling and interesting? (It's an interesting, if not terrifying question, but it isn't large enough to warrant an entire fic being written about it.)

What would a Sauron redemption fic with a kid be like? (Basically it would resemble Sauron Gorthaur's Gorthauro Estel, which is an amazing piece of literature better than I could ever write, but with a sprog thrown in, so I ultimately wouldn't be bringing anything new to the table there.)

The only thing that might work, is if it's a revenge plot. Morgoth comes back with a vendetta against the Lieutenant that would have betrayed him, and seemingly abandoned him during the War of Wrath…so that's something...?

- And Sauron would of course seek to evade Morgoth's clutches, but because I'm me, he will invariably fail, resulting in imprisonment, enslavement, and whatever else Morgoth opts to do to him. (Which is a plotline stolen from Last Days...the only difference that the cinnamon roll following Sauron, is his own son, rather than some stupidly altruistic kid with sever anxiety and social maladjustments.)

Unfortunately I still don't find this idea interesting. Especially when I plan on exploring it with a much more 'canonical?' version of Sauron, rather than this bleeding-heart pretending to be Sauron.

Disclaimer: It's fanfiction.


Drabble: Unfortunate Circumstances

Featho laughed, bitter and derisive. His lip curled in scorn and his eyes glittered with hopeless mirth, and all the more taunting and daring his smirk became.

His white teeth were glazed pink, as he leant forward. The chains restraining him clinked as they were pulled taut, and he still he smirked, braving the eyes of Morgoth. Eyes that had he'd been warned, had grown in fear of, he leered at in knowledge that he was going to die, and there was nothing that could be done to change it.

He'd made his plans, as well as they could have been, and it was up to others to pick up the pieces. His wife would do it, because spiders were gate keepers and guardians like no other, and Shelob kept her oaths.

"I can't."

"Can you not? Surely there's no need to die today, when you might find me merciful." The Dark Lord's voice crooned and filled his ears with dark syrup. "All I ask, is the count of Valar's forces. Tis but a simple number. And as your father's liege lord, there's no reason for distrust and furtive secrets."

Ashen fingers, wrinkled and scorched gently cupped his cheek. "There's no need for coy resistance when open honesty and a declaration of fealty would spare you much toil."

"I can't." The words spat themselves out, as if his own tongue was unwilling to obey him.

But they leapt, clumsily into the space between them, hanging on visceral threads. In the corner of his eye, his father moved- a flinch, and his hand rose as if to intercede only to lower, as his eyes darted between his master, and his insolent, helpless child.

"You wish for honesty? I've already sworn an oath of fealty, and pledged myself to a plights of another far greater than me."

"Featho…." His father's voice was a warning in the background. A faint whisper lost in the breeze as Featho's blood rushed in his ears.

Featho's grey eyes glinted with wicked mirth. "You call yourself a 'dark lord' and claim darkness as your domain, but I know you have no sway. The Dark was never truly yours, and so it has eve been beyond your command, but there is one- a daughter of such darkness."

Morgoth's eyes flickered with intuition and suspicion.

"She died long ago." His words were a concussive avalanche.

"Did she?" Featho asked. "Perhaps you should tell her that when next you meet. Because, I can assure you she has not forgotten your rotten promises, nor has she forgotten her lust for a dark lord's flesh."

Solid and malignant darkness convalesced. Louder than his blood it pounded mercilessly at his temples, and it felt as though his head was being squeezed. A mountain of hate and cruel vengeance bore down on him, and Featho sagged in the chains the held him.

"She's coming."

Featho's smiled was a twisted sicking thing, maddened by pain, fury, guilt, and a thousand anxieties and regrets that had harboured for over an age in his chest, so long to become bitterest kin, but he could name them not.

He smiled knowingly, smirking at a joke to which only he knew the punch line. His teeth were pink with blood and silent laughter, a muted madman, come to the end of his tether.

She's coming," he breathed, and his words were the lilting caress of a lover, but his eyes were fire.

In silence he was cackling as he reached toward death in eager anticipation, like friends long torn asunder, soon to be reunited at last.

He smiled and faced the full brunt of Morgoth's malignant ruinous gaze.

"For you."

He cocked his head, insolent to the last.

"She's coming."