#dark!manwe

[cilil]

How would Yandere Manwë react to his prospective darling (who’s a child of Fëanor) leaving on the Flight of the Noldor? Oh, annnnd the darling miiiight have rejected Manwë’s advances if he already made them. The darling’s too busy having an affair with a married cousin of theirs. (Sorry if this is too specific!)

𝓐𝓝 ~ No problem whatsoever, dear! Hope you like what I came up with!

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~ Gender-neutral pronouns are used for the darling, and the cousin in question is left unspecified, leaving it up to each reader's own imagination and preferences ♡

𝓣𝓦𝓼 ~ Yandere, obsessive behavior, mentions of cheating

ଘ Manwë had always been curious about Fëanor, interested even. He had sensed that this Elf could create great things; and his instincts turned out to be correct when he was introduced to a particular young Elf, one of Fëanor's children, one whom he would come to affectionately refer to as his darling in his mind.

ଘ Like their father, his darling was proud and stubborn. Manwë made sure to invite them to visit him and summon them at every opportunity he found, just so he would have an excuse to be near them and hopefully woo them.

ଘ He was subtle at first, all warm smiles and kind words and sprinkling in the occasional compliment and flirty remark, but his darling was never quite as excited about his attention as he would have liked. Assuming they might prefer a more "direct" approach, Manwë began to show his interest more openly and suggested that they should spend time alone, only to be turned down - to his surprise and indignation. Rejecting the Elder King? Inconceivable.

ଘ Naturally, he suspected that someone else might have gotten their hands on his darling first and had his birds and other servants spy on them until a scandalous secret was revealed to him: They had been seeing someone indeed. And it was their married cousin.

ଘ Manwë wondered what he should do. Should he expose the two and then take his darling under his wing during the fallout, setting himself up to be the one person they can turn to? But wouldn't this make them hate him and never wish to be with him? Should he talk to his darling, reveal what he knew and command them to end this affair? Should he blackmail them?

ଘ Yet before Manwë could come to a decision, disaster struck and the Noldor rebelled against the Valar, leaving Valinor under Fëanor's leadership - including his darling. Manwë attempted to reach them via ósanwë, both pleading with them to stay and furiously ordering them to turn back, and when he sent Námo to pronounce the Doom of the Noldor, he also tasked him with delivering a special message for his darling - "Choose wisely whether you wish to follow your father on a path of doom or to turn back and accept my love and mercy".

ଘ Still, his darling was swayed neither by his threats nor his promises and they followed their father and secret lover to Middle-earth.

ଘ Manwë has long since realized that their decision is final, but he hasn't given up. He keeps watching from his throne on Taniquetil, waiting for an opportunity to either save them from peril and be their hero who still loves them even after everything or to send an eagle to steal them away from their family and deliver them to him. Even if neither plan succeeds, he knows that the Doom of the Noldor will follow them until either they die and their fëa makes its way to Mandos or grief weighs down on them so heavily that they might return willingly, so he tells himself it's only a matter of time until he can finally get his hands on his darling and possess them like he always wanted to.

ଘ And another thing that Manwë knows for certain is that once this happens, he will never let them escape again.

[eri-pl]

Some poll results

What to do with shiny rock? (129 votes)

Almost half of you would give the Silmaril back to the rightful(?) murderous owners. Congrats, you get to live. Almost 1 in 10 would keep it (less than I expected) and over 1/4 would yeet it away. Interesting choice.

More polls under the cut, including why Melkor is radioactive

Eol (119 v)

Over 95% hate him. Which is much more of you than hate Morgoth (I should do a poll on why you hate Morgoth). And almost half of you hate him for so many reasons that you can't pick the top one.

The reasons are usually family-related (no surprise), with exactly one hardcore Noldo hating him for politics.

Elements

Melkor gets radioactivity (I know it's not all evil, but hey, neither is frost or fire!), feel free to use it in your fanfics. :)

Manwe gets electricity, which is not surprising and sort of canon IMO.

[yandere-ainur-confessions]

❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 , “ no one would believe you ,’

the benevolent. the kind. these are ways that many would describe the elder king. and oh, he makes sure to remind you of it whenever you try to act up. to keep you with him and reliant on him — him alone.

“where will you go, darling?” he'd croon, curling some of your hair along the crux of his finger as he leans in with his usual smile. the same one you had come to associate with a master of lies, a two-faced deceiver.

“who would believe you? that I could be any of what you claim me to be?” manwë chuckles as he listens to your thrumming heart and pulls you closer, as if to dance. and as his hands and arms draw yours into position, he leans in to press a kiss against the racing pulse of your neck.

“they would all think you mad,” he begins to sway with you. “they would reject you, ridicule you. . .”

he spins and sways with you, until finally he dips you gently. his face above yours, cerulean hues bearing into your eyes as that same, deceptively sweet smile graces his lips whilst he leans closer to your ear. and with a low, honeyed voice, he whispers:

“you'd come running back to me.”

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Penance

Day 6 for @manweweek

Prompts: Fallen | Storm

Rating: E

Pairing: Dark! Manwë/Ulmo for MoonLord

Themes: Dead Dove | Smut   

Warnings: Dubious consent | Power imbalance/Power dynamics | Oral sex | Manipulation

Wordcount: 1.4k words

Summary: Ulmo has to make penance after going against the edict to not interfere in the affairs of Middle-Earth.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

“You were all commanded to keep away from the exiled Children and the Edain, and you meddled still.” Manwë was wroth. He made the journey to Ulmonan, the great palace of the Lord of Waters, after a troubling message was carried to him by the wind. “Pray tell me why you aided the elves of Gondolin in their battles.”

“I was moved to do so, my lord.” Ulmo kneeled before his lord, his head bowed. “It felt wrong to leave the Children with no hope.”

The Vala of the seas and the rivers and all the waters that flowed in the world appeared to both Finrod and his kinsman, Turgon, in a dream, urging them to prepare great strongholds in the wars against Morgoth. Then he made himself known to Tuor, a son of the Edain, no less, and counseled him to call on Turgon as his messenger. However, those were not the only reasons why his lord was vexed with him. Ulmo did far more than he ought to; he aided Ecthelion in slaying Gothmog by moving the very waters he commanded and quenching the unholy flames that wreathed the Balrog who battled the elf.

And I was not the only being who involved themselves in the affairs of the exiles. “And while I understand your anger,” Ulmo continued, respectfully as always, “I do not understand why it is only I who is being taken to task. Was it not you, my lord, who aided Findecáno in his quest to free Nelyafinwë from his torment?”

“That was different,” the king scoffed with a dismissive wave of the hand. “For Ilúvatar himself urged me to do so. Did he do the same for you?”

Ah, but the creator did not, much to Ulmo’s sudden distress. Eru neither counseled nor moved him to act the way he did; Ulmo acted on his own accord. And Ulmo had little choice but to admit this folly to his king.

“He did not, my lord,” he confessed, paying no mind to the corral floor chafing against his knees. He was a being of pure spirit, and the pains afflicting his earthly vessel meant little to him. “But I am willing to do whatever I must to show that I will never act against the will of my king again.”

“Of course, you will not act against my will again,” returned Manwë, who regarded him keenly. He loved Ulmo dearly and with a longing so fierce that, at times, it felt like an unseen hand had reached in to constrict his very spirit. Nevertheless, he knew nothing fruitful would come out of such a longing. His friend had no desire for love or companionship. He rarely came to land, preferring the waters of the world and the solitude of his own palace. But the sight of him now, humble and contrite, willing to do anything to prove himself worthy of Manwë’s favor, led to the planting of a strange and dark seed in the Elder King’s heart. “And of course, you must make penance for such acts, yes?”

“Of course, my lord.” Ulmo dared to raise his head. He found his king looking intensely back at him, his otherwise bright eyes dark, and he liked it not. “Pray how can I make penance?”

Seize this moment, a voice within said. Seize it and satisfy your longing however you wish. He will obey you. You are his king, after all. 

Yes, the king decided. Yes. I will seize this moment, for another such as this may never present itself again.

It was the first time that Manwë, king of Arda, fell to the dark imaginings of his baser urges, and it was not going to be the last. He walked past Ulmo and climbed up the steps to his friend's oft-favored pearl and shell throne. 

“You look so pretty on your knees,” Manwë observed, making himself comfortable on a velvet cushion. “Come up here and settle on your knees once again, my lord Ulmo, so I can see you better.”

Ulmo let out a shaky breath, uncertain of what his lord had in store for him. He obeyed anyway, rising and climbing each step slowly, as if he were having to force his way through water thick with too much sand. Manwë let out an impatient sound, but he held his peace, not saying a word until Ulmo had settled himself before his spread legs.

“Closer, my friend,” he lilted, his words like honey. Ulmo was still too far away for his taste. “Come closer. There. Much better.”

His fellow Vala gave him a measured look. “What must I do now, my lord?”

“Please me.” Manwë leaned down and caressed Ulmo’s deep, sea-green hair, his cool cheek. The dark seed that had taken root within him grew and demanded to be fed when he breathed in the salt lingering on Ulmo’s skin. “Undo my sash and take all of me into your mouth. Go on.”

Ulmo opened his mouth to protest. This was too much. What his king asked of him was too much. Manwë could see it in his eyes. His own darkened, and the air whipped into a frenzy all around them, like a mighty storm was brewing within Ulmonan itself.

“Deny me, Ulmo,” Manwë interjected before he could speak, “and you will find yourself suffering the fate my brother once had to endure. It is what you rightfully deserve for your transgressions. Do you understand this?”

Ulmo did not have to be told any more. He was witness to Melkor’s confinement in Lumbi, that dark and lonely place deep within the Halls of Mandos. If he refused, he would be cut off from the sea, from its song and its creatures, and from all that he loved. The notion was more than he could bear.

“I understand, my lord,” he acquiesced with a tremulous sigh. “And I confess that I do not care for such a fate. I will do as you say.”

Manwë closed his eyes and sank into his seat, pleased. Ulmo, after some hesitation, loosened his king’s robes with trembling hands and freed his heavy erection. When he wrapped his hand around him, he shut his own eyes and dipped his head. 

His king moaned faintly, nearly coming apart when he found himself being taken into the welcomed heat of his reluctant companion’s mouth. Ulmo’s inexperience when it came to the pleasures of the flesh did little to dampen the raw lust already surging through his lord. It inflamed him instead. He did things he did not even know of with his lips, his tongue. They were so light and delicate that the king could barely feel them. And they were so wicked at the same time, whipping the king’s lust into a frenzied pitch—the kind he had never experienced before. Ulmo dared to open his eyes. Manwë looked fever-struck, his mouth slightly parted in a silent moan. Unable to help himself, the king buried his hands in Ulmo's thick hair, tugging at it just hard enough, and began thrusting lightly.

Too much! Lamented Ulmo. Tis too much! And yet, there was little he could do. Manwë was his lord and master; he could not act against him. It was not in his nature to do so, and if he somehow succeeded, his actions could bring about a fate worse than confinement in Lumbi. He pleasured his king as best he could, taking him over the precipice with the warmth of his hand and the tightness of his lips.

"Perfect," whispered the king, when he trembled and trembled and emptied himself of his spend. He released his grip on Ulmo’s hair, brushing his hands over it instead, almost in affection.

If only I had thought of this before! Manwë was still glad, for Ulmo's transgressions revealed to him a way to feed and satisfy his longing. The Lord of Waters was his to command now, and he was far from done with him.

“Now finish it all up," he then commanded feverishly. "Go on.”

Ulmo obeyed yet again, taking in the bitterness of his king’s seed without a word of complaint. He barely avoided wrinkling his face in distaste, and when he moved to rest more comfortably on his knees, he glanced up at his king and found him looking back with a satisfied smile.

Was he truly satisfied? Ulmo could not tell. The king extended his hand, and he, not knowing what else to do, accepted it. Manwë helped him rise to his feet, his eyes never leaving him, and said, “This will do for the moment. However, I feel more needs to be done in the matter concerning your admonishment. Set my robes to rights, my lord, and direct me to your chambers. I intend to stay here for a while.”

[greypetrel]

The truth about how Aisling was tempted into the dark side.

Melkor would have gladly tempted someone else, but she had ✨ideas✨ and no one else read his flier... Also Danger NoodleGLAURUNG likes her a lot, so...

(I'm done for today I swear, I'll go finish one prompt now, this was too much to keep it.)

[edensrose]

He holds your stare with his once delicate eyes that now mimic the frost upon Taniquetil’s peaks. His grip tightens. “Do you still cling to your stubbornness, my darling? Even after aeons of separation?” “N-No — No that is far from the case my Lord!” The tension beneath your jaw increases before dissipating altogether. Manwë circles your form once or twice, like a mighty bird of prey whilst you hang your head in shame.

Knelt Before The Throne — Dark!Manwë x Banished Maia!reader teaser ( porn with plot ៸៸ manipulative manwë ៸៸ possessiveness ៸៸ authority kink )

[thuringwedhil]

the sandmans lucifer design is so beautiful i admit i've been thinking of taking inspiration from it for melkor ... like the short fluffy, blonde, curly hair? to manwe's own long, fluffy, blonde, curly hair??? i am obsessed

[skyeventide]

does the Oath of Feanor work as a magical compulsion, or does it have magical properties, and are its consequences real?

yes, because the magic of Arda is also based on words of power, and it would be dissatisfying and limiting to assume that somehow that power doesn't work in this specific instance. no, because even if Feanor is the one speaking, not even his power could bend the fate of elves to that extent. yes, because the fate of any one people can be bent, delayed, or weirdly modified until an oath is fulfilled; in LOTR, the ghosts of the path of the dead prove it. no, because Manwe and Varda would not feel bound to enforce an oath of death with them as witnesses, and it goes against the rules of oathing. yes, because the enforcer is Eru, they just stand as witnesses and do not have the power to release the swearers as Eru would. no, because we don't even know if Eru accepted that oath. yes, because if the oath was invalid from the start, it would be beyond callous of Manwe and Varda not to inform the swearers and allow the consequences of the oath to happen. no, because a magical compulsion would remove or to an extent at least lessen responsibility of actions taken in its pursuit. yes, because the author of the story acknowledges a certain "will" of the oath by making it wake or sleep with active verbs. no, because even swearing without additional magic on top can feel like a compulsion to do things or to keep going that otherwise would not exist or not be felt by a given swearer. yes, because no matter what the everlasting darkness is or does, it can be real independently from any other prior compulsion to act; in other words, there may not be a magical property to the oath, but its called consequences for the swearers are very real. no, because there's several slightly different versions of the oath across the texts, and it's impossible to do a literal, word for word reading of its lines if it's possible to recite it slightly differently at a given time. yes, because the only valid version is the original pronounced by Feanor in Tirion, you can't wiggle out of that one. no, because who's to say that was recorded correctly, it's far too poetic for a sudden decision. yes, because who's to say that Feanor couldn't whip out all that via improvisation, I bet he could. yes, because other characters beyond the sons of Feanor treat the oath as something absolutely serious and real, and that includes Finrod in speaking to Andreth, when he says that Eru's name is not called upon even in jest, as well as Melian, when pointing out the strong forces awakened by involving that power. no, because neither of them can talk to Eru anyway. yes, because it's narratively more satisfying to imagine characters morally struggle against something that is eventually unbreakable and unavoidable like in any good tragedy. no, because it's narratively more satisfying to imagine characters do it to themselves and compromise with who they are out of family loyalty. yes, because the curse of Mandos actively turns it against the swearers into a betraying force, a consequence that wouldn't otherwise be a given, that is, nothing says that everything they start well would have finished badly and that the oath would have led them to defeat, and if it weren't magical before Mandos' addition, it is now. no, because Amrod's death in a draft would prove it breakable through his (admittedly only guessed) desire to turn back. yes, because he still died in the process, aka the everlasting darkness claimed him for being an oathbreaker. no, because how is it possible that it's simultaneously unbreakable and broken. yes, because the fate of arda and that of elves is inscribed within the eternal paradox of everything being predicted and everything being free will, and that will never be solved, neither regarding the fate of the elves nor the oath of Feanor. no, because the oath is a narrative device. yes, because the oath is a narrative device. three hundred more lines.

hope this helps. hope it doesn't. your pick.

[braxix]

Manwe: Melkor, what are you scared of?

Melkor: Nothing, I am the Darkness.

Manwe: Okay, so you're available to babysit, right?

Melkor: Absolutely not.

[animatorweirdo]

How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband? Part 2

Part 1

(Second part for the crack fic. I hope you enjoy this one)

Warnings: Reader being a headache to her family, Sauron just dealing with her antics, Melkor getting robbed of his lieutenant and Manwe not getting paid enough to deal with this.

----------------------------------

Nerdanel: *Sobbing* I can't believe our daughter would disappear again. What has Melkor's servant done to her mind to make her act like this?

Feanor: *Visibly angry* This is why the valars can't be trusted. They allowed something like this to occur to my only daughter. 

You: *Kicks the door open* Naneth! Atar! I'm home, and I have news for you! 

Nerdanel: *Startled* (Name)! Where have you been? And who is that beneath your arm?

You: *Carrying Sauron beneath your arm like a potato sack* My new husband! 

Your whole family: YOUR WHAT?!!!

Sauron: *Waving at them awkwardly* Uhm... hey. 

***

Feanor: (Name)! You can't just decide to marry someone you have only known for like a month! And he's one of the Ainur!

You: Don't worry. Mairon's a rogue, so he doesn't belong with the valar. 

Feanor: That's not what I meant! Why would you want to marry him anyway?!

You: One, he's less loud than all of you. Two, he's hot, and three, he gave me a dog— something you have refused to give me for centuries! 

Feanor: Seriously? 

You: *Holding Carna* Dead seriously!

Carna: Woof!

Feanor: (Name)!

Your brothers: *Glaring at Sauron* Hurt her, and you're dead. 

Sauron: *Deadpan* I'm literally the one that got kidnapped. 

***

Melkor: Well, well, well... now this is something I didn't expect to happen. 

Sauron: Hello, master. 

Melkor: So, what's your plan with Feanor's daughter? Did you seduce her? Did you brainwash her? Is your plan to have power over Feanor's house by marriage? 

Sauron: No. She just decided we should be married and forced me to come here. By the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. 

Melkor: Huh?

Sauron: *Slides in a resignation letter* 

Melkor: You want to quit? Why! Is it because you suddenly got a wife now?

Sauron: Master... it's literally been like 300 years since we even spoke. Everyone has literally gone in their own ways. 

Melkor: What? 

Sauron: Yeah. There's no one at Angband. We assumed you would never come back, so we didn't see a point to continue.

Melkor: Seriously? 

Sauron: No hard feelings. I might come back if you come up with something, but for now, I have different things to deal with. *Leaves*

You: *Grinning at Melkor* Haha! Fuck you, your lieutenant is mine now!

Melkor: *Silence*

Melkor: Oh dear– I got robbed of my lieutenant before I could rob her father’s silmarils. 

***

Your family: *Arguing with you in front of the valars*

You: *Arguing back* 

Manwe: *Having an headache*

Manwe: Alright! Settle down. I have a proposition that might help both of you in this matter! 

You & your family: *Look at him silently*

Manwe: (Name) Since your family wants you to stay, but you do not want to break your relationship with Sauron. How about this? During winter years, you shall spend your time with Sauron in Middle Earth, and during spring years, you will spend your time with your family in Valinor. 

You: *Thinks about it* Yeah, sounds good to me. 

Your family: Wait, it's the start of autumn. 

You: Woohoo! Which means half a year without you!

You: *Grap Sauron and began leaving* Bye! I see you in spring! 

Your family: *Sobs* (Name)!

[sesamenom]

Day 3 Fealty for @tolkiengenweek: rescuing your best friend/liege lord from Sauron, with fingon & sam.

It's really interesting to see how frodo& sam's relationship evolves from master/servant to something more akin to lord/vassal (mirroring their (and merry&pippin's) ascent into heroicism (is that a word?)). and that sort of reminded me of fingon & maedhros and how their relationship starts as childhood best friends -> maedhros being the king and fingon swearing loyalty -> fingon being the king and maedhros swearing loyalty.

on top of that, both fingon & sam find their respective person in the midst of the dark lord's realm where nobody else had gone, after said person was presumed dead, by singing. eagles are involved at some point.

bonus version, because i gave up on drawing the eagle so fingon gets the birdies of manwe

[eri-pl]

Let's map the sons of Feanor to the Valar

for no other reason than "there are 7 of them"

Celegorm - Orome (hunting, Orome liked Celegorm and gave him a dog, I don't like them)

Maglor - Ulmo (sea, music)

Curufin - Aule (crafts)

Amrod - Namo (doomed) (unless I'm confusing Amrod and Amras?)

Amras - Irmo (the other one to the doomed)

Maedhros - Manwe (not many Valar left + is the boss of others + mountain)

Caranthir - Tulkas (for some reason... I mean, he's the only one left. Plus hot temper?)

Generally, I'm thinking a lot of the "3/7 of something" scheme, because I love mapping things to other things.

Like: Dads of E&E / Silmarils / elements / some Valar / the 3 rings / Eldar types

Earendil - air - Manwe - Elrond's ring - the Vanyar

Maglor - water - Ulmo - Galadriel's ring - the Teleri

Maedhros - fire - Melkor - Gandalf's ring - the Noldor

No, I have no idea what this accomplishes, I just like giving structure to things and finding symmetries in them.

Also the 3 is often more like a 2+1. Not an equilateral triangle, but a ... how do you call it in English? Two sides equal, one different. isosceles triangle (thank you, @annalysa)

silver/gold + darkness (trees + a spider; ice / fire and evil - the three main elements of Melkor)

alternatively, silver + gold + jewels (sun+moon+stars, especially Earendil)

Fingolfin, Finarfin and Feanor

Namo, Irmo and Nienna

Maedhros, Maglor and Earendil

Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen

those two E-guys whose names I forgot + Elwing

Anglachel, Anguirel, Maeglin (that's how I HC Eol seeing them)

Similarly, the 7 grows to 8:

sons + Feanor => 8-pointed star of their house, 8 of them made the Oath

(male) Valar + Melkor

...? I don't know.

I wonder if there's anything interesting to do with the number 9, or with the whole 1+3+7+9 scheme, this would be awesome.

[yandere-ainur-confessions]

love the idea of a human darling that manwë takes immense interest in. like, we all know he’d be quick to pull some manipulation on you (ofc he has every power to do whatever, but others are so easy to deceive that he won’t have to resort to any means that might hurt anyone). “no one would believe you,” manwë would remind you of this 24/7. why would he, the greatest ainur take interest on a lowly human? what are you going to do, tell others that manwë has been following you? why would anyone believe you? tell everyone that manwë has been tormenting you? yeah, right. why would manwë even waste his time on a person like you? slowly and surely, at some point, human darling would def start believing they’re losing their sanity and this isn’t at all real. i think, manwë will take advantage on this vulnerability. humans might have the gift of mortality, but they are oh so easily breakable.

he finds it almost amusing, the way that you try to ramble to your loved ones about how manwë, the lord of arda, is following you around. how they find you absolutely delusional. and when you return? he awaits you back home. taking you into his arms and calling you his poor little dove, "are they ill-treating you again?" "did they call you delusional again?" "oh my darling I'm so sorry. . . I would never do that to you, I love you."

and when you try to push him away? he merely smiles. strokes some of your hair behind your ear and whispers for you to behave. after all, should he leave you here in a bloody heap, your loved ones would not chalk it up to anyone. no, they'd simply think you're at your tricks again.

he would continuously drill that fact through your head. reminding you over and over that you truly did only have him. if you lose your mind in the process, that's all the better. it means he can sweep you away and keep you to himself. his poor little mortal, so pliable and reliant on him. and only him.

[asianbutnotjapanese]

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

For: @feast-of-horns

Day 5: New alliances | New companions

Warings: none

Summary: Melkor reaps what he sows

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

"I do not understand how chasing someone is fun"

"Fun is not the right word queen Miriel thrill is what you must use"

Melkor's facial expression gave a malicious look Miriel could see a glimpse of longing in his eyes.

"Doing whatever you want to do with your prey is thrilling-....I am sure your face being flattened on the mud by Tulkas was a thrill too"

Mandos' whisper reached the ears of Miriel and Melkor.

Melkor eyed him with distaste and turned his face away from him.

"He was not following the rules"

Melkor gently pulled on the chains that bound him.

"You should not be the one talking about not following the rules"

Miriel, who saw Namo and Melkor quarrelling before never got tired of it, you learn new things when you witness angry people biting eachother.

"I want to participate in this hunt"

Miriel had to interrupt before their quarrel grew bigger and Mandos's maiar sent Melkor to one of the corners of the hall "to preserve what remains of his dignity" as one maia said before.

“The dead do not play with the living, Therinde”

The chains that were choking Melkor loosened as Mandos looked away from him to Miriel.

“But I did “play” with the living before and you allowed it”

“Curufinwe will be weaken-"

"My Feanaro is strong”

Taking a few steps closer to the throne Miriel interrupted him before he could finish.

“He will live until I say otherwise and you know this so you better not forget about it”

Her words sparked astonishment in Melkor's heart.

“Maybe you should let her out for this time Namo, I'm sure Miriel will be a good girl and won't wander away from the forest”

Melkor's eyes shone brighter than aule’s fire.

"And you can use part of me this time"

He raised his hand a thin thread emerged from his palm.

“This way neither Varie nor Manwe will suspect anything and you should remember they can feel when there is something wrong"

Miriel gave Melkor a dark look but didn't say anything.

"If you try anything, I will make sure your miserable existence becomes even more unbearable”

Namo warned Melkor.

Melkor's face contorted into a disparaging smile, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"You wound me, lord of the dead"

He bowed his head in mock submission.

"You have my word,”

"And who will you hunt down your majesty?"

Melkor turned his face to Miriel who already started sewing her divided spirit together with Melkor's soul

"My sister-wife"

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[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰❀꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮 ❜࿔

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë⠀& melkor⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. manwë deals with his bastard of a brother whilst they try to pick a new colour scheme for their syndicate. he quickly remembers that there is no one who can drive him up the wall more than melkor ( dark themes ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ corpse ៸៸ strong language )

· ⊰ note. idk but I've just been feeling them lately. their dynamic in this au is one of my favourites

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ au info post

♡. — 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒓

"Hmm."

Pale violet sweeps over the newly decorated wall. His cruxed index finger pressed against his lips and his thumb stroking beneath his chin for added effect.

"Not sure. Don't think I quite like the shade of red."

A click of tongue sounds through the office.

"You complain too much." Manwë rolls his eyes to the ceiling and flexes his hand against the wall. "What's wrong with it? You didn't like blue, you don't like red, what exactly do you like then?"

"Maybe black?" Melkor offers, running a thumb along the wall. As though feeling the new colour was possible.

"Vilisse is black." Drips Manwë's obviously exasperated tone as he arches his brow. "I thought Vilisse was green?" Melkor counters to which his brother sighs and shakes his head so that white locks bounce around him.

"Are we gonna settle on a colour or are you just going to paint fucking rainbows all over the syndicate?"

"That a challenge?" Melkor meets his sibling's irritated expression with a grin and a quirk of his brow. "I quite think your desk will look splendid in hot pink." He motions to the aforementioned wood to which Manwë tightens his fingers once more.

"That's Italian Maple you dick."

"Oooo fancy." Shrugs the older as he flicks his finger and sends a droplet of crimson onto the revered Italian Maple desk. "As if you couldn't just import a new one, Tweetie. Don't be such a scrooge."

Manwë inhales, reminding himself that his brother is right and refraining from slamming his head into the desk he had just stained. Instead, he fights back the urge to roll his eyes once more at the childhood nickname. It was hard to believe who was the true older of the two.

"The task is still at hand. What colour are we transitioning to? Lest you want to keep the old man's design?"

Melkor groans and hangs his head back after stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Decisions, decisions. . . How about purple? Maybe blue?"

"I thought you said no to blue?"

"Well I change my mind."

"For fucks sa —"

"You know what? I actually quite like the red."

With that last sentence from his brother, Manwë finally relaxes his fingers from the head of hair he was flushing against the wall. A loud thud echoes through his office and he nonchalantly steps past the body laying on his rich wooden floors. The crimson stains drip from the wall and soak into the ground as Melkor admires the 'shade of red'.

"Hey now," the older chuckles as Manwë's shoulder knocks with his as he makes a beeline for the door. "No need to throw a tantrum." He muses, spinning around to face the other's back. "All that blood's gonna get on your precious Italian Maple y'know!"

"Clean it up then." Manwë mutters, retrieving his handkerchief to clean his fingers from the sorry soul whose blood became a paint sample. "And come find me when you're done playing these fucking games."

He receives only a mocking croon before Melkor thinks to himself. Just before his brother leaves the doorway he calls out, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"You know, I think gold would do the trick. What do ya say?"

A moment of silence fills the office before Manwë glances over his shoulder with a curl on his lips. "Gold for glory. I like it." And with that, he steps out, yet not before calling back.

"I'm serious about that blood. Clean it up, lest I overload your flask with gasoline."

"Bastard."

"Dick."

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[holyplasmaball]

For the manwe week prompt "Free of evil | Opposition":

“The blame rests not upon you”, Nienna spoke with a heart unbarred. In a torrent endless poured forth her compassion, until Manwë found his cup filled and overflowed, her kindness not a balm but a spillage, a flood which overwhelmed instead.

In him there lay no such hollow to be filled, no chamber vast enough to contain all that she proffered, and he could not fathom why she would pour forth from herself in such direful abundance with naught to necessitate it. He had ventured here not for solace, but for counsel, to gain insight into her ruminations so as to comprehend why she acted thus. Why she, who shed tears for all the world's woes, who felt the sting of his brother’s transgressions most keenly, would then prostrate herself and implore mercy on Melkor’s behalf. Why she would weep when he who had wrought ruin and devastation was at last ensnared within unyielding confines, his evil chained in impotence.

Nienna placed her hand upon Manwë’s arm. “You know not what you do."

In these words was made apparent what the surfeit of her compassion had implied. She deemed him culpable. Blameless, yet culpable, a party who had erred unintentionally.

The verdict given had indeed not found favor with her.

“I but act our Father’s will,” Manwë did remind her then, partly to reassure her that no harm had been done. He did his Father’s will, and thus, could not err. This was the simple truth of him, the cornerstone of all his principles, the speck of light set within his spirit by which he might illumine his way through the shadows of this world. As long as he stayed faithful to this, and did trod the righteous path, he would remain untainted, and all that could be redeemed from his brother’s deeds would eventually be uplifted.

Yet Nienna remained as she had been.

“I know,” said she.

And Manwë could not comprehend her. The words hinted at dissent, as if she conceded that he had indeed acted in accordance with their Father's will, yet still somehow faltered. As if it were their Father who had erred, and caused them all to stumble. Yet this could not be so, and rather he must have misconstrued her intent, for she was not corrupt, and even contemplating casting doubt upon her purity pained his heart.

To purge these suspicions from his mind, he voiced them aloud for her to dispel: “You speak as one who has lost their faith.”

“Faith?” Nienna’s lips curved in a manner that, on another spirit, might have lead to laughter. Her amusement was sincere, and devoid of mockery, resembling the fondness of a mother confronted with the sweet innocence of her child.

“Love,” she spoke instead. "A power which does the stars in heavens raise, which births mountains and valleys and the oceans to fill them, and all life still and moving to traverse them. A boundless might, more potent even than our Father’s decree, for His will too is moved by it. For our Father loves us, and it is for love that He has made us, just as we have made the world.” She paused. “Yet love is foolish.”

Upon this perilous turn she stalled, perhaps to grant him grace. For it much seemed like a free passage, a chance for Manwë to divert the course with words of his own so he might steer clear of her true musings and escape unscathed. Yet he had come here to understand her, and to this end he did stay and hearken.

“Our Father loves us,” Nienna continued. “And He is good, and what He has made He loves, and it is then made good. This is a truth which none of you can see: that in essence, we all are virtuous, none tainted by evil's hue. That it is the deeds themselves which embody the darkness. And that, in our folly, blinded by ignorance’s veil, all, in unwitting error, succumb to sin.

And here, at last, afore these truths does emerge, the folly of our Father’s love, spoken now, yet forever unheard; for you, Manwë Súlimo, have been made free. Evil you can not comprehend, and so, what evil you beget, you can never perceive.”

@manweweek i'm a little late, hope it's okay!