Of Love and Torture

107 ~ Mairon

A lone crow perched itself on the shrivelled branch outside the highest point of the west wing.
There were no windows, due to the vulnerability of the tower, yet it could see a warm glow protruding from an arrowslit, and blurred figures inside. It heard what was being said, and watched with mild curiosity.

The smallest figure, curled in a ball.
"I'm... sorry. I didn't mean to question you. I was merely observing and I wanted to make sure you -"

Then the taller one, who's face of steel had softened into one of sorrow and guilt.
He leaned forward and lifted the chin of the other until their gazes were locked.
"Sh. Mairon. Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong, and I'm sorry for acting as if you did."

The Maia looked downwards towards his knees. His eyes closed and he breathed out slowly, as if he was trying to diffuse the situation and save their relationship via telekinesis.

When he didn't speak, Melkor spoke again.
"It's alright to be angry. I - I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll leave if you want, and we'll take a break -"

"No." He looked up, his amber eyes glistening slightly, and a small smile crept along his pale lips as Melkor's expression relaxed in relief. "Can we try again?"

Melkor laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh, like the ones he gave to the prisoners, as if nothing mattered. This laugh was like everything did.
"Yes. Yes, let's start again. Thank you. And I love you, always remember that."

Mairon's smile widened to a grin. "More than that soup the Sindar made in Valinor?"

"Er, no... that soup was on another level..."

As the crow watched, the figures leaned forward. Gentle arms wrapped round shoulders that were pushed forward in eager longing of the bodily comfort, faces were buried in necks.

With the faint rattle of dead twigs, the crow flew away.