A little snippet slightly based off @admirably-abhorrent headcanon that Mairon still calls Melkor “my lord” as a term of endearment. Not to mention Mórul causing chaos mere hours after he’s born, we love to see it
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Melkor couldn’t stop staring. Feanor could show up on his doorstep ready to hand the Silmarils over on a silver platter and Melkor couldn’t care less.
In the room he shared with Mairon, his little flame was lying in their bed exhausted and proud, the result of forty-eight hours of labor resting on his chest. The minute Melkor had gotten the okay, he had gently climbed into bed next to them.
A small, tiny baby with pointed ears nursed eagerly at Mairon’s chest, only stopping for a few moments to breathe. Mairon was covered in sweat, afterbirth, and blood, and Melkor still saw him as the most beautiful being in Arda. Especially now after seeing him give birth to something so precious.
“You’re staring, my lord.”
Melkor started a bit, luckily not enough to wake their son. He used one hand to gently stroke Mairon’s arm. “I don’t think I could ever stop, my little flame.”
Mairon’s eyes shone as Melkor kissed his forehead, soothing their baby when he whined to change positions. Once again, Melkor was enraptured.
“Did you know?”
Mairon looked up. “What?”
“Did you know our child would be a boy?”
Melkor grinned at the teasing glint in Mairon’s eyes. “I had a bit of an inkling from the start. I was more sure of it the bigger he grew, and the fact that he was late, as his other father so often is.”
Melkor ignored the jab in favor of watching Mórul let out a tiny yawn before going back to Mairon’s breast.
“However, Maia aren’t born with a gender in mind. We come into the world as our souls first picture our physical bodies to be, and we change our fanas to represent who we feel we are inside at the time. This is how Mórul chose to make his entrance. He may very well change his mind as he grows.”
Melkor was just filled with utter wonderment and joy as he whispered. “Fantastic.”
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“Of course, precious. And I am happy for him.”
Melkor frowned suddenly as he gazed at Mórul.
“What is it, my lord?”
“I suppose I wonder what I have given him. Suppose I gave him nothing to claim his power with.”
Mairon sighed with fond exasperation. “My lord. I’m perfectly sure our son will-“
At that moment, Mórul’s little face scrunched up uncomfortably. He stopped nursing for a moment to raise his head and let out a tiny sneeze. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to frighten someone who had never sneezed before. Mórul whimpered once and then let out a piercing cry.
Mairon began to gather him close when the entire fortress suddenly shook, trembling all over and knocking things off the tables and walls. Melkor tensed, immediately reaching for his family. “Mairon, I believe we’re under attack.”
Worried, Mairon guided Mórul back to his breast, cooing and whispering as calmly as his fear allowed him. Mórul’s crying gradually faded into whining as his red cheeks made contact with his father’s bare chest. As he latched on, Melkor had already headed to the door and prepared himself to slaughter whoever dared to disturb them.
The moment he pulled his armor on the shaking slowly came to a stop. So, Valinor planned to play dirty with multiple siege strikes? Melkor wouldn’t dare let them, they—
“My lord.”
Melkor turned to see his family still safe in their bed. “Do not worry, precious. Their forces will not live to see tomorrow. I will send Thuringwethil to be your guard, and perhaps Draugluin, too, to be safe.”
“My lord.”
“Our outward defenses might be damaged after their brutality, but I promise you it will be repaired before the next full moon. Perhaps I should send you with our personal guard to Angband in the meantime. Yes, that would be the best course of action-“
“Melkor.”
Melkor stopped at Mairon’s insistent tone, only one foot covered with a boot. Mairon was staring at him fondly. “Come here and take off your armor.”
“Little flame-“
“I believe I have discovered the cause of our little “disturbance” just now.”
Melkor looked where Mairon had angled his head and was shocked to find himself staring into icy, blue eyes. Mórul. They were cold as night and so shrewd for one so young. “You don’t mean-“
Mairon smirked as Mórul returned to feeding. “It seems our little one has a flair for the dramatics. After all, there is only one Vala I know of that could rend Arda in two with a single cry.”
Melkor let the rest of his armor fall to the ground, returning their bed with utter amazement in his eyes. “He has the voice of the Valar inside him.”
Mairon nodded. “And the fana of the Maiar.”
There was truly nothing Mórul wasn’t capable of.
