Emotions-- A series of vignettes by MisbehavingMaiar

Regret, Longing, Love

A pyrric victory is won, and a moment of tenderness rebuked; three emotions in one scene.
(Shades of shipping: Sauron/Melkor)

REGRET, LONGING, LOVE: 

Screams echo from the black glass walls; Angband’s heavy iron gates shiver open to admit the wailing Vala. 

"Damn you, hateful, darting thing! Gnawing rodent! May you rot, gibbeted from an eagle’s nest! Curse you! Curse your children and your kin! May your entrails spill and be feast to flies! I will grind you to dust! I will crack your bones in my teeth and drink you blood, reeking vermin!  Damn you and damn you again!—"  

The spindly tower of thorns that is Melkor falls and shrinks. He limps, dragging his foot and clutching his face; his one good eye blazing with vengeful hate, the other dripping glittering red-gold ichor that smokes as it hits the floor. 

Mishapen minions draw back in terror, yet are drawn to watch in horror as their master falters, supporting his weight upon Grond like an aged crone. His breath is wet and rough over gore-stained teeth. When he stumbles and falls, betrayed by the ruined tendons that have hobbled him, a hushed murmur seeps through the halls. None dare approach, but all gather to stare. 

"STAND CLEAR OR I WILL FLAY THE LOT OF YOU." Roars a voice from within the keep, and the minor spirits and orcs flee from the crack of steel-threaded whips. 
There is great uproar as the hall empties, and the eavesdroppers flee from the wrath of Sauron, whose armored feet throw sparks against the floor. Alone, he rushes to support the fallen lord. 

"Look what they have done to me! My face, my heel!" The Vala cries, his once-lovely voice hoarse and painful to hear. "That absurd wretch of an elf! That damned spying harpy of Manwë’s!" He chokes. "I cannot sing, I cannot hold, I cannot walk, and now I cannot see! This body no longer heals! It is fixed and blighted and I am dying in it!"  

The crowned head is heavy against the lieutenant’s shoulder.
For a moment, there is bitter longing in the maia’s eyes as he looks upon the radiant gems fitted there. His broad fingers lift as if he would knock them from his master’s head in a rage— for they cannot be worth this... Nothing could be worth this agony, this debasement of a being so great! But he dares not. 

"My lord, you were victorious. The Noldor have lost three kings, and you still wear their prize. All is well... But if you would only allow me to ease your pain, to remove the burden from your brow—"

This is a mistake. 

"DO NOT TOUCH ME. Get thee from me!" Melkor spits, lurching to his feet. "They are mine and no other shall lay hand on them! Do not forget thy place!"  

As the Vala stumbles towards the throne room, hissing with pain and leaning heavily upon the black mace, Sauron feels his heart constrict.

“I have not forgotten." He says, uheard. "It is by your side even if you would not have me.”