Title: "The Breaking Of The World" Pairing: Morgoth/Sauron Rating: R (violence) Summary: Sauron defies, Morgoth takes, a witness wishes to be elsewhere. Disclaimer: Never happened. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me. Notes: Written for the Contralamontre 'POV must be from someone outside the relationship who's not in love with one of the people in it' challenge. I have no idea where this came from. And no, part of it isn't canon, but for the purposes of the story, this is how it happened. "I wish I could eat your cancer When you turn black" -- Nirvana I no longer question why they need me to watch, why I'm a silent participant to something that should be private, should be left between the two of them. I know better than to question, to try to escape. They will forever find me. I am bound to them as much as they are to each other. I would rather not be here, but I could never deny either of them anything. Sauron's hair falls in thick, dark ropes, lank with sweat, across a smooth forehead, and he leans back on his haunches, arms straining inside the confines of the slender Elven rope, wrists tied behind his back. Morgoth circles him, a thin finger trailing through the raised welt, crimson blood staining silken flesh. "You know how much I hate doing this to you." Morgoth's voice is soft, sibilant, barely catching the damp air of the tightly enclosed bedchamber. "Why must you disobey me?" Sauron raises still defiant eyes, and I can sense the quiet amusement cutting through the haze of pain. "What would we be if I did not, my Lord?" Sauron and I both wince when Morgoth's hand strikes Sauron's cheek, a purplish bruise slowly forming across ivory skin. "I am your Lord. Never forget that." "I know, my Lord." Morgoth tangles his fingers in Sauron's hair, yanks back with quiet force, piercing eyes staring hard into Sauron's. I wait, silent, pulsing with sick anticipation of what is to come. Wish I could look away. But I know I won't. "Do you belong to me, voronwer?" Morgoth kneels behind Sauron, lips a bare inch away from Sauron's ear, heavily muscled chest pressing tightly against Sauron's bloody back. "Yes, my Lord." Sauron's reply is just as soft, the sheen covering his own chest glowing in the soft light from the torches scattered throughout the room. The darkness would have been preferable. The air hums with tension; the world waits with bated breath for Morgoth's next move. I wait with it, wait with Sauron, count every soft exhalation, every shift of flesh scraping the stone floors as Morgoth presses closer, pushes the silverbright blade of an Elven hunting knife to Sauron's throat. "I should kill you," Morgoth whispers. "You would destroy me if I let you." "But you won't," Sauron replies, tilting his neck back, the bare edge of the blade cutting a thin trail across his throat. I watch, horrified, mute, as another thin trickle of blood crests along Sauron's smooth chest. "We are bound to each other, you and I." Sauron presses his neck closer to the blade, the tip burrowing into slick flesh. "Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar." /I will follow you to death and beyond/ "Detholalle." /Your choice/ Abruptly, the blade vanishes, and Morgoth tugs Sauron's head to his shoulder, pink tongue lapping at the thin trail of blood. "Aratoamin." /My champion/ "Forever," Sauron murmurs, nuzzling the soft skin behind Morgoth's ear. I gleam dully – smooth gold glinting as I lay on the table, the only witness to their twisted love. If you enjoyed this fic, please leave feedback here. Thanks!