Sauron Ascendant Vol II: God-Emperor of Arda

BY : VladimirHarkonnen
Category: +First Age > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 119
Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion or the Lord of the Rings. No profit is intended by this story in any fashion.

An age had passed with the fall of Beleriand and the fall of Morgoth. Only a century in mortal time, which was far less than that in the eyes of the Deathless Realm, had lapsed. In that timeframe the Lost King, Manwe Sulimo, Breath of Arda, had become the Restored King. Mairon, once Melkor’s feared and abhorred servant, had become Annatar, the Gift-Lord. The repentant, seemingly, servant of Melkor had his potential new seat to the right of Manwe’s great throne. The day that Melkor was cast through the Doors of Night into the endless void with his feet hewn off and wounded by the Zweihander Sauron wielded one-handed in an effortless display of strength by his side was the first and for that next century, only time that Annatar had displayed his presence that puiblicly.

The initial distaste of Tulkas faded with the seemingly humility of Annatar, whose new name and fair form marked his severance from Melkor, as did his free bestowing of gifts and working to heal Melkor’s ravages. Manwe was marked forever with the scarring and the marks of Melkor’s servants, Orc-clans on his arms, Trolls on his stomach, and symbols of a ring on his cock and the small of his back. The others were known, and the symbolism on his arms frequently seen as he had taken to wearing a new kind of robe, sleeveless.

Publicly, Manwe Sulimo had said that there were other captives in Angband who bore the marks of Melkor’s torments and they were not broken, so why should he feel shame that he had been among the tormented? There were others, even in Aman, who bore those signs. The first time that he had arrived with robes more form-fitting than regal, with his arms bare and marked with the sigils of the nine Orc clans, one on his shoulders, one on his upper arms, one on his lower arms, there had been a stir in the Mahanxanar. Only Namo’s expression displayed not disquiet but resignation.

It was that evening that Annatar, returned from stabilizing the coastline near the newest north of Arda, saw Namo outside his chambers.

I know what you have done to my brother, Gorthaur.

Mandos was the lord of the land of the dead, and as death was impartial and amoral, so was he. With that awareness, Mairon turned his stare to him, his eyes shifting from the fair to the glowing monstrous yellow of the old days.

“What of it, King of the Dead-Halls?”

You seek to fix us all in a new realm, and to be the true King of Arda.

“You did not see what Melkor made him into. I do not do what I do out of desire for power, I do so that our realm may endure. Our King was changed in those halls of stone, I grant him peace, stability, freedom of mind. Do not begrudge me that I give the King a voice he is learning to recover for himself.

Melkor, you insist, yet in all his deeds you have a part, and it is in the stories of my incarcerated that I hear a greater part than otherwise. So many of Manwe’s plentiful monstrous progeny herald you as their other parent in truth, even when you were not in the coupling. Why is that?

“Melkor had his way of convincing people to work evil, Lord of Mandos.”

Mairon knelt before him, baring the back of his neck.

“If I am to be condemned for what I was compelled to do by the malice of others, take me to Tulkas that his strength may remove my head from my shoulders as is his writ.”

Namo said nothing.

That is not your fate, Mairon of Thangorodrim.

Mairon crossed his arms across his chest.

“I saved the Elder King from the torments the moment that such action would leave him better off than what had gone before it. Were I to have moved and failed he would have been left purely to the mad whims of Bauglir in his decay, and such would potentially have been his demise. Instead of a Lost King there would be the Eternal reign of glorious Varda Star-Queen.”

Namo nodeed.

That is true, Mairon.

“Then why I am judged?”

You nearly slew one of our order and hewed his hand off to a point that it has stayed off to this day. Such power is not….meant…for one of your kind. Yet here, you use none of it actively, you make no effort to bend the Elder King to your will the way Tulkas suspects is your intent.

“You saw the brother of yours I defeated in a great battle.”

Namo nodded.

“Such efforts are what broke him, they left him so weak that I was able to best him easily and to tear him down. I have seen what they create, and I have no desire to walk the same path. At most I ease Manwe’s mind and heart as one who suffered as grievously as he. Were I to exercise full power, it would be in his name and in his glory. Not aspiring to displace the One Above All that none may displace.”

Namo nodded again.

I have seen your fate, Mairon of Thangorodrim. You will not walk that path.

Mairon was stunned when Namo suddenly and abruptly knelt before him.

And having seen the fullness of that path, let me be the first to herald the true King of Aman, and future Master of All Arda.

“It is not the will of the Allfather that Manwe Sulimo be deposed. I did my power to restore him, in the end,”

I did not say he would be deposed, said Namo, as he raised himself to his feet and departed, striding levelly and with great calmness.

Mairon paused, his finger on his chin. For a moment the fairness faded and the truth of what hid behind it was revealed when a claw of the kind the truth usually concealed behind equally pointed gauntlets tapped his chin.

“I shall to go Tulkas.”

It was not a long walk to Tulkas’s own residence, which with his wife Nessa was the most fortress-like. Fitting for the mighty Vala of War and Combat. Sauron was not in the least intimidated, having great respect for Tulkas’s physical might and prowess but believing quite sincerely that Vala though he be, Tulkas was dumber than a box of Naugrim hammers and that he would find it easy to win over Tulkas with honeyed words.

Stepping in, Annatar adjusted the collar and hems of his robes, and put on his most sincere smile even as his eyes briefly flashed their true golden monstrous hue. He did, after all, give the physical prowess of Tulkas a very tremendous respect indeed, Tulkas Astaldo had humbled his master when he had not yet become the Mad God on the Obsidian Throne, conqueror of the Catamite-King. True, he had not lain with the much more revealing-garbed Manwe Sulimo since they had left Angband, nor had their interactions been anything but well-placed courtier and sovereign in public. He did not yet need to reassert his claim to Manwe, especially when the Seer of the Mahanxanar had confirmed that he would become the true master of the new realm.

Namo had all but told him he knew, and would do nothing with it. To be fair, it was hardly secret knowledge that he had known the Restored King, and that he had claimed him utterly. It was even known, partially, that the Blue Wolves and Great Orcs and others were products of Manwe’s own loins. What was not known was that Sauron had twice helped Manwe to depart for a time from Arda, both of them unclad in mortal flesh, and then taken him to remnants of the old Thangorodrim.

Melkor’s chains on Sauron had of old had been very strong, those placed on his tamed and defiled brother were stronger still. It had amused Sauron to see the ever more whorishly clad Manwe come to him and speak nervously, childishly, even. Wanting desperately some of the pleasures that Sauron and Morgoth had introduced to him, knowing he could not dare indulge himself. He had even sunk to his knees and pledged to suck off Sauron and swallow more of his ‘essence’,  as he had put it, if Sauron would reward him with it. Sauron had laughed, told him no need to go that far….and now there were new monsters, enhanced with Valar bloodlines.

Dark and monstrous equivalents of Luthien Tinuviel, and proof that even the Valar were not immune to the kind of awe-inspiring power that was Sauron’s and always his. He was deeply pleased to see more such monsters arising without his direct involvement in any sense but keeping an eye on Manwe, knowing that as the Vala took on the form of other such entities that it showcased his prowess. When he resumed the broken form that he had seen lowered on the floor of the old palace beneath Thangorodrim and was prostrate before him, holding the asscheeks of that form with his winking gape, Sauron had been quite tempted then, but a new and more splendid possibility gripped him.

He had refused the chance to sink his massive cock into Manwe’s well-fucked ass, an ass that he had claimed repeatedly, and simply shook his head and had the Elder King stand up, quietly jerking him off until his cum splattered on the ground…and shrunk his dick another inch in length and small enough that it was the size of an Eldar’s on a Vala-scaled frame. Easily small enough that a mortal could grab it with one hand with room to spare. Manwe bit his lip, the runes on his dick glowing, and accepted his chastisement. The amusement at that memory helped ensure the  sincerity of his smile as he stepped into the lair of what wasn’t a dragon, for those were only children of Melkor and then later, Manwe himself, but in Vala terms might as well have been.

Tulkas was a giant, vast and brutish and oozing the imagery of war and combat. His thumbs were thicker than Sauron’s forearms, and it was a matter of awe to him that he had been able even in Melkor’s weakness to hurt his former master more than this colossus had done at his apex. He had a vast golden beard and long hair that gave him a distinctly leonine appearance. His eyes flashed more naturally golden than did Mairon’s own, and his gaze was somewhere between cautious and glaring.

Mairon.

His voice was a tectonic rumble.

Mairon bent forward, in a posture of humility “Lord Tulkas.”

You have come to see me, then?

“Yes, Lord.”

I know you took the Elder King in that fortress.

Sauron blinked. Whatever he’d expected wasn’t quite that direct.

Yes, Mairon, I know. I’m meant to be a fighter, and I do not fit evenly with the code of what’s expected from my order.

Tulkas smiled, and Mairon immediately relaxed with the smile. It meant his subtle incantations in Tulkas’s chambers were reaping fruit at last. A century of work, subtle work, the kind to ensnare a great hunter that could not be ensnared openly would fall into it. Mairon had not expected that the snare would be precisely geared to Tulkas’s true soul, but the curiosity in his words was not only plain, but so was the sincerity in them, amplified by a genuine smile. Bemused for a microsecond, Mairon smoothly reacted when Tulkas continued:

What was it like?

“My lord?”

What was it like to lay with another male? With the Elder King?

“Delightful, my lord. In the breaking of fetters that have no logic to them, there is a great balm for the soul.’

Tulkas nodded. A very slight gesture of his fingers meant that Mairon’s spells intensified, producing a low haze. Tulkas leaned forward slightly.

“Nessa, dear,” his wife strode forward. The enchantments at work on Tulkas had been subtly different on Nessa, but no less potent. Nessa, the Swift, had become progressively less clad in far less modest clothing, though she much less seldom ventured from Tulkas’s house. She tried to entice him but Tulkas, because of the increasing power of Mairon’s spells and his intended punishments to the Vala of prowess and war for laying low his boss took root. This dissatisfaction was palpable, as Nessa’s bare divine cleavage displayed the ample light of her divine grace.

The sight of Manwe’s lowering himself to the standard of being with animals and beasts, and the monsters of his former master’s making in full divine splendor enslaved to that power was delightful. That Nessa strode forward wearing only a small girdle that shielded her midriff and left the rest of her exposed to his delight made it more delightful, for here she strode in what she and Tulkas alike believed was her own will and yet….

Hello Mairon, she purred. Tulkas recognized the purr and the frustration she felt. Nose twitching. A heat built up in him. There was the pure lovemaking of the Valar, who were pure in all things. Sexuality was not dirty, it never was, not in Eru’s design. The Valar and Maiar were never quite meant to produce in the manner of the children of Illuvatar, but they were never sexless or chaste. Melkor’s marring had introduced jealousy and desires, Varda having made a point to see all the other Valar males in the forms of their own thoughts unclad, finding herself dissatisfied with Manwe, though finding ways to…. compensate. The experiences of Manwe in Angband had accelerated elements of this, and so too had Sauron’s various enchantments in Valinor. The power that had surged in him and let him lay low Morgoth was enhanced here, particularly by those who could have stopped it making no effort to do so, and the effort of Namo to bend fate to serve his ascension.

Nessa strolled over to him with her hips swinging, and then her hand was pressed to his robed shoulder, as her body inclined toward him. Out of one of his eyes, he looked to Tulkas, seeing a cock larger than his own starting to rise. So did Nessa, who smiled.

Why my beloved, do you think we should?

I think it might be the only thing to fix our….dissatisfaction.

Tulkas moved toward Mairon.

If you can satisfy my wife, and let me experience…..these pleasures again, Mairon, you’ve already claimed one Vala, and the greatest of us all. Would you….

Mairon smiled, and as his spells achieved their intended result his smile became fangs and his eyes a burning golden-crimson again.

“As you will it, Lord Tulkas.”

With pleasure he pulled Nessa into a deep and passionate kiss, his tongue shifting serpentine and to greater length, easily conquering hers, as Nessa surrendered, her divine hands roaming around his body, lighting deep sparks of pleasure in his body, little corners of electricity that were a contrast to the Lord of the Air. He always felt high and ethereal in forms of his own thought, never truly there-there, something his artifice seemed to ensnare only because Manwe had become convinced it must. Nessa’s body moved in swift spasms, and his clothes were off. She did not discard hers, because anything he would have wished was already visible, as was his intent.

Nessa’s body was soaked as his hand, now restored to its proper clawlike form he preferred it have slipped around her ample ass to cup the swellings, as she groaned in pleasure, biting her lower lip, and let Melkor push her close to his half-erection that became fully so from the pleasurable friction of her slick wetness against him. He was soon tapping at her pussy, and Nessa nodded eagerly, and lifted her legs up, lowering herself on him by gravity’s pressure. Her groan of pleasure matched his, and Tulkas groaned likewise, the same enchantment that had let him become master of Manwe over time at work on Tulkas.

Tulkas. built for swiftness and totality in physical sensations, was not adept at being edged, and fidgeted as Nessa kissed Mairon and rode him, her legs riding him with a swift motion that blurred and matched her purpose as the swift. Mairon’s power was grand, and the blend of friction and depth meant that her body and his began to mold naturally together, more than had been so with Tulkas. Tulkas was a very unsatisfactory lover at points, but…..this….

She made a low quasi-scream of pleasure as her first orgasm hit, and Tulkas’s erection began to become painful for him, the spell in full effect. Tulkas found himself unwilling to move, telling himself he was, that Mairon could not bring Angband’s enchantments into Aman. That this was a satisfactory solution to an issue from their wedding night, and in a sense it was. When Mairon had her climax more times in succession for him than she had in the last few…….months, he told himself, not years, of their marriage, he allowed Tulkas to climax in his robes, leaving Tulkas to sag, his humiliation visceral as Sauron’s molten cum erupted in Nessa’s body, the effect grander in its shape than with the black lips and gums of the altered King of the Air. Nessa’s body felt the heat and the sense of burning pleasure through it, she felt low and unsubtle mystic alterations that would forever alter her, and she didn’t care, greedily kissing Mairon.

After he pulled out, Mairon snapped his fingers, and Tulkas was on his knees, cleaning off Melkor’s jism, finding the powerful heat more than he could handle at first, having to move his mouth away and swallow carefully. Sauron smiled coldly, patting Tulkas on the head.

“Don’t worry, Lord of Firmness, my new woman will be in good hands.” Licking his lips in satisfaction, Tulkas’s empty smile reflected the success of the sorcery, and Annatar then removed from a pouch a glamour of his had concealed two rings, bequeathing them to the Valar in question.

“Gifts befitting the Great Powers.” Tulkas placed his Ring on his finger and gasped as he felt his physical strength and warlike nature augmented….and found that as long as he looked at Nessa, he was limp, but Mairon, he was aroused. Nessa found her speed enhanced to a point that her vision was now the keenest in Aman, and her arousal likewise dependent on the view of anyone or…..she gulped slightly, pondering the greater prospects….anything over Tulkas.

Mairon stepped out, content that the very first phase of the Great Plan had gone off smoothly. It had been a long labor and a secret one with the Vanyar and the full approval of his well-tamed Manwe, whose will and backing made King Ingwe give his reluctant sanction to it, to develop these Rings of Power, things that offered those who took them enhanced potency…..and unknown to them all, he had his greatest secret hidden in his chambers, behind wards only he could open, waiting for the fullness to unfold.

A few tossles with beasts behind the back of his beloved wife and his puppet King had given him unconstrained power to delve into his wonders enhanced by the might of Aman. Between that, the judicious imprisonment of those most vocal against his rule until their voices would be silenced by the Great Scheme, and the realities that Manwe chafed for the absence of his cock and could be controlled as easily by promises of being with him as with his new love of Yavanna’s creatures, well….Mairon was awed at how simply and swiftly his plan unfolded. Eru still did nothing. Melkor had fallen in divine wrath.

He was ascending, turning Valinor from holy land to marred not in the will of his mad predecessor but in the far more organized image he chose, with only a single master, him. Give him time sufficient and the Valar would be disgraced and Tar-Mairon would be one of the Kings of Aman, and the only one with actual power. He clenched his fists together and made a hissing breath in a gesture surprisingly feminine for so rugged a form, but did not care. Things were working well indeed.

Tulkas’s humiliation was only beginning, and Mairon would take time and effort to cultivate it, and to ensure the official elements would be worked through Manwe. So limited the imagination of the Valar. They saw the ruination he had worked on Manwe as meaning he needed the direct, carnal influence. No, only to help him secretly slake the lusts honed on him in the shadowy depths of Angband, further compromising him, and deepening the rift between him and Varda, who was too controlled to give into it openly.

Varda did not like or trust him either, but he had carefully given her no cause for offense, and his ability to help with keeping Manwe stable and seeming regal only enhanced his true value in her eyes. More unsubtle and potent incantations had made her both prone to find faults where there were none to find with Manwe, and prone to hear Melkor as a soothing voice of reason, whatever the nature of his actual words and deeds.

His journey back from his tossle with Nessa, his newly conquered woman, was thus pleasant. Manwe had only the other day gone with him into the devastation left after the War of Wrath, siring more of the new Winged Dragons with females who had insisted that his work aid that of the males under Smaug. Such times were exhausting for him, and in that time he relied ever more thoroughly on the quiet work of Mairon.

Varda, for her part, would have been a dutiful queen loyal to the true plan of Eru, which was why the enchantments toward her were as powerful as they were. Beyond the genuine pleasure of dividing the husband and the wife who ran Arda, that is. And for the servant of Melkor the Morgoth, inflicting division and marring on the Valar was pleasure in itself, none else required.

Re-clad in his robes, not bothering to hide the nature of his true gaze when he stepped in, Mairon listened. He heard shouting and smiled as he stepped around the corner. The same enchantments that worked to remove the clothing of Nessa meant that in their own home, Varda now went permanently nude, and donned an appearance dark as the night sky and with eyes of shining stars, yet visibly and prominently feminine.

Her hands were above her hands, her fingers splayed, as she sneered:

Years, Manwe Sulimo. Years. You have last touched me in years. Mairon, your new advisor has known you, all I get is memories.

Manwe looked at her with bleary eyes.

I cannot change the way things are, wife.

Of course you can’t, husband. You can’t do much of anything these days without Mairon’s help.

Her hands on her hips, she turned to Mairon, whose golden eyes gleefully drank in the divine grandeur of her body. Her tits were massive with his eyes drawn to them, and her mound was a glorious slit akin to a star cluster. His smile became laviscious and she noticed, with a hard glare.

See, Mairon appreciates my body. Why can’t you?

You weren’t there in Angband, beloved.

No I wasn’t. Are you going to feel sorry for yourself for fucking dogs and trolls forever?

Manwe’s glare intensified, but a look from Mairon silenced the words from his mouth.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Varda nodded.

First, tell me what these gifts you’ve been distributing to the Children of Illuvatar and Aule are, then since he is too weak to satiate what must be sated, you can do it for him and remind him how a marriage and a bond between a husband and a wife work.

Mairon smiled and brought out more of his Rings.

“These are my Gifts. The world is ravaged, and the leaders of that World need aid. The Lords of the line of Elros have gladly taken these gifts and built a land of surpassing beauty. So too the High King of the Elves and the three Elven Lords, Elrond, Artanis, and the lord of the Sindar in Greenwood. Seven Dwarf Lords likewise.”

Varda took hers with curiosity, as Manwe slipped his own and his eyes widened and he groaned in a delirious feeling of pleasure. A streaming nebula of an eyebrow raised, Manwe smiling at her.

These are wondrous, beloved!

Varda slipped hers on cautiously and her body of darkness became a living night sky and light lit up through her as she gasped in pleasure unimaginable. Testing the scheme that had been laid for a century of mortal time, a blink of an eye to the Deathless, the kindly guise of Annatar fell and the tall and dark and monstrous guise of Gorthaur arose in its stead. His body donned a helm he had built with the aid of Aule’s forge, blending the darkness of Angband woven into the grim and bloodthirsty magics of his former master with the splendid light of Valinor, as did the rest of his armor.

The helm had four sharp edges extending outward, and a face guard that had an appearance like woven metal tendrils, the metal blackened by the reawakened heat of his body.

It was no longer the voice of kindly Annatar that spoke, but the roiling booming triumphant sounds of a Dark Lord awoken in power and glory:

Kneel, Varda.

She did, gleefully sinking to Mairon’s codpiece, removing it and gasping with awe and delight.

So much bigger than Manwe, she cooed.

Take it in your mouth.

She looked at Manwe.

With a cock this delicious, I can’t resist, darling.

Manwe nodded to Sauron.

You are the King of Valinor, it is only just the Queen become yours by right.

Gorthaur’s smile was cruel and fanged and he turned to Varda coldly, jamming his cock straight down her throat without further ado and pretense of kindness. Varda gleefully deepthroated him, forms of thought having no need to breathe and a far greater flexibility than flesh would permit. Gorthaur’s brutish claws and roseate squamous skin contrasted with the superlative beauty of the true darkness of Varda’s frame, and the starlight that gleamed from her. So did the rough and brutal squelching sounds of Gorthaur’s cock hard at work in her throat.

Yes, you Valarin bitch, take it. He huffed.

Tulkas had fallen into his hands, and between Tulkas and Manwe, the conquest of Valinor would become a manner of time and of the patience to let time wend its course rather than being so arrogant as to try to steer it. For now, there was dropping the mask, and ensuring that even if he kept it dropped in public, the Valar would convince the inhabitants of Aman that all was well. It would not be time yet to take up the Master Ring to rule them all until all of the Valar had taken them and asserted claim over their spheres.

Humanity had fallen swiftly, the Elves slightly less so, and both were autocratic species reliant on mighty kings and bold heroes to do deeds for passive majorities. The Dwarves, theirs would be the hardiest and the bloodiest conquest, and it would require him honing the will of his former master. Fortunately, his former master did not share Ulmos or Tulkas’s potential vices of an excess of free thought matching his deranged lord’s.

Rutting into the once-pristine throat and mouth of Varda, marking her with his heat and enhancing the runes he had placed on a bracelet he had ordered Manwe to give her and emphasized the order with a firm slap on the Elder King’s ass, Varda let him be as rough as he wished. A mortal would be dead by now, even an Eldar would be struggling. When the molten heat surged out, exploding into her throat, Varda’s eyes rolled and her resistance and distaste for Mairon failed, stuttering into the humming pleasure of her body, fingers scraping on the floor.

After he removed his dick, Mairon’s grin intensified as he turned to Manwe.

Now, Elder King, there is a simple matter. You said that for all that counts, I am King of Aman and of Valinor now.

Manwe left his chair and knelt before Mairon on both legs, the shining visage of Annatar restored.

As you will it, my lord, so shall it be done.

In a deliberate mirror of his former lord, with as close a duplicate of his voice as he could manage, he said:

Say that again.

As you will it my lord, so shall it be done.

Mairon smiled and again became Gorthaur, the self that fitted him most truly.

What I will first, my beloved whelper, is that you remind yourself of your place relative to me, as you had relative to my lord.

With that, Gorthaur stripped himself of his clothing, and sat on Manwe’s chair in his own home. It was scaled to a Vala, not a Maia, but the effect with his presence and enhanced potency sapped from the wreckage of his former Lord was that it seemed to suit him well indeed. His erection was as strong for Manwe as it had been for Varda, perhaps stronger.

Show me which of you is better at this. The wife, who showed her skills…or the husband I have carefully transformed into the new image of what has always been meant to be.

Crawling forward, Manwe’s hands fit on Mairon’s legs and the effect seemed dissonant. The giant Vala, embodiment of the wind, and ruler of all Aman as was intended was still clad in his robes, but on his knees before the towering dark lord who had claimed him so long ago and was now doing so before his wife. Leaning forward, Manwe took Mairon’s cock with familiar, loving attention, his own cock aching and weeping hard with pleasure. Varda raised an eyebrow as Manwe began to bob his head and proved indeed very adept at the task, crawling over in turn, and seated watching.

Her gaze was as keen as any in her long life, and Manwe’s hunger as eager as it had become in Angband. Such was the power of the rings on them that Varda’s initial staring became amplified by a friendly smile and she encouraged Manwe by going over and placing her hand on his head, watching the King of all Arda debase himself in a fashion that suited the new master of the place.

Yes, beloved, make our King content.

Manwe’s nose was jammed against Gorthaur’s body, and he relaxed, slouching slightly, enjoying that Varda was encouraging Manwe to submit and thus removing the biggest obstacle that had dogged him and his master back in the day. With that and wanting to please her after so long of bitter feuding, Manwe’s skills finally brought Sauron to another volcanic climax, with Manwe’s face jammed against him and those sky-clad eyes meeting his gaze with genuine, deep hunger.

Gorthaur sagged back, relaxing.

That’s a good king, he grinned.

Four of the Valar had become his, leaving the rest, but Gorthaur was in no particular hurry. After conquering Nessa, and returning to her that evening and leaving Tulkas to sit in his chair and slouch off, Mairon’s delight enhanced by the clear deftness of Nessa in carnal pleasures and her very eagerness, Mairon awoke the next morning the master of all Arda in truth, in one sense, and eager to slowly diffuse his Rings amongst the Valar.

Namo knelt and took his Ring from him, as did Vaire, at his side. They had come that next morning, and with them, Mairon relaxed completely. The Master of Doom and the Weaver were his, as were the King and Queen, and the Swift and Lord of War. His next task was to have Manwe summon to him Orome and Vana, who knelt before their King. They noticed the ring on his finger and Manwe’s increased vigor, enhanced by the presence of Mairon, returned to his seat.

With the power of Mandos at his disposal and aiding his work, they thought nothing of these things, and knelt, taking the Rings given to them, and placing them on their fingers. With that, Mairon ordered Orome to become a lord of sloth, leaving his horn away and allowing the new monsters to spread unchecked, while having Vana go to Vaire and seduce her. He ignored how that went, though it was clearly successful, judging by their expressions and handholding, and went next for Nienna.

She was very cautious facing him, as well she might have been, even when he took the form of Annatar. His enchantments in her palace had been strong from the beginning and in the wake of the conquest of Manwe and his soon to be open proclamation of Mairon as his Chief Minister, he was able to throw open the floodgates. Ulmo had called Tulkas to face Mairon, fearing what it meant that such powerful enchantments were at work, and Tulkas had gone to him with a look of friendly emptiness on his face.

Finding Mairon cornering Nienna, who though one of the Aratar at last perceived the Doom in which they were all caught and fearful, looked to Tulkas for aid, Mairon whipped around.

He became Gorthaur and strode up to Tulkas confidently, knowing his Ring held the power that it did.

Gorthaur’s rumbling voice echoed:

Tulkas, hold her arm and hand out for me that she may take the Ring that binds her and all her Maiar.

Tulkas strode forward with a cold smile on his face, and his immense strength held down Nienna with one hand as he held up her hand with the other.

Tulkas, please!

Mairon smiled cruelly, the savage fanged grin of Gorthaur of old Arda.

He won’t help you, weeper. I suborned him and the King and Queen first, for with them fallen, none can stop me.

With that the burning heat of his hand contrasted with Nienna’s grey robe as the Ring slipped on her finger and her eyes glowed and her mouth likewise and she sagged forward into Tulkas’s grip, her breasts firmly against his arm as he smiled, moving his arm to enjoy copping the feel. Mairon snorted and rolled his eyes.

Then, deciding to further enjoy his power over his old enemy, he told Tulkas to come see the King and the Queen that night. Tulkas merrily agreed.

Later that afternoon, Ulmo went to speak to Nienna, the incarnate majesty of the Sea seeing her calm detachment, and her tears visible.

What happened?

The echoing voice of the Sea, deep as its immensity of depth, was answered by the soothing voice of Nienna:

Mairon found an old enchantment of Melkor from the days of the Lamps. He removed it.

Ulmo’s eyes went to the Ring on her finger, and his eyes narrowed.

Hmm…..

With that he returned to his palace, brooding on his great throne.

That evening, Tulkas arrived at the home of Manwe and Varda, as the sun set and Varda’s stars gleamed. He stepped in, hearing the audible sound of…...of sexual activity, and an amused smile crossed his face. That Mairon, such a wonder. He must have shown the same wonders to Varda that he had to himself, Nessa, and Manwe.

Stepping in, Tulkas found Manwe on his knees, blowing Gorthaur, who slouched on his chair, relishing his ability to flaunt the form of a Dark Lord before one of the Valar. If his Rings had been less potent even without the master Ring, his claim here would have seen him sent to Mandos, but the master Ring existed, and its presence affected all the rest, and all Tulkas did was smile in a friendly fashion, and kneel before the rightful King of Arda.

Hail, Mairon, King of the Deathless.

Hello, Tulkas.

The sour tones of Mairon contrasted with the eager skill and audible noisiness of the blowjob from Manwe, and the curled toes of the Elder King, now the Mouth of Gorthaur in the eyes of Tulkas and the others.

Good at that is he?

Yes, he is.

It was then that he saw Varda stepping toward him, her body clad in a form that was somewhat akin to that of Tulkas himself. Not the visible majesty of the night sky, vaguely akin to a grander-scaled frame like that of the children of Illuvatar, save that hers was the deep darkness of the Void, the only concessions to her truth the light of her eyes and of the slit between her legs.

She strode to Tulkas, kissing him deeply, enjoying that Tulkas immediately became iron-hard in response to her pleasure, and then slipping down his pants, gasping in delight again.

I told you it was bigger, she cooed to Manwe, who was a little too distracted by sucking off the Lord of Aman to care at the moment.

Leaning forward, she raised herself up by his shoulders, and lowered herself on Tulkas, groaning in pleasure, her juices flooding him.

He grunted for his own pleasure, sighing in contentment as she raised and lowered herself on him, doing all the work.

Mairon does his best to make up for…..the King’s….inadequacies, she grunted, the eloquence another benefit of the thought forms, but he’s just not enough on his own.

It was then that one of Mairon’s little jokes at Tulkas’s expense went off and he groaned as he came willingly into Varda’s cunt, within four thrusts.

Varda slipped off of him and glared in anger.

Pathetic, she hissed, and then backhanded him so hard he hit the walls of the house.

Not caring that he was half-nude, she told him:

Get out!

With that, Tulkas fled the house of the King and Queen of Arda nude, with cum still splattered against his thighs. He returned in shame to Nessa, only to find her on her knees blowing a smiling Lord Cirdan, whose keen eyes met his own and he shrugged.

“She did ask me, my lord,” he said, and Tulkas stared, then sighed.

Nessa does as she will. You have my permission.

With that, Cirdan’s eyes became keener, as the Ring on Nessa’s finger thrummed with power, and struck Tulkas’s with a resonant wave that caused him to become fully erect. Cirdan’s eye raised, and then his eyes slipped from between his legs where the blurring head of Nessa was busy at work, and as Tulkas continued to watch him, but two minutes elapsed and spurts of his cum splattered out.

Cirdan, who’d spent a full three quarters of an hour blown by the wondrous mouth of Nessa saw this and his mouth made a silent ‘o’ of surprise as Nessa leaned back and smiled with a surprisingly beautiful smile, licking her lips.

We were married, yeah, but that happened on our wedding nights. He might get two thrusts and then that’s it. Now……I’m done pretending. Mortals are so much better at this than Tulkas.

With that she resumed blowing him, and it was not long after that Tulkas grunted again as his body sagged, another powerful orgasm compelled from him by the sight, and two more that followed it leaving him to sag on the floor, surrounded by drying puddles of his own cum, as Cirdan not only enjoyed the greatest blowjob of his life,  but was soon to take Nessa who giggled eagerly at the thought, to bed with him. There he would find himself asleep far later than he was accustomed to, awakening the next morning to the eager lips of Nessa and her movements that blended a motion so fast it was nearly impossible for him to follow with a genius skill in extending the duration of her pleasures.

Soon, Cirdan and Nessa would become a fixed point in Tulkas’s life, though Cirdan knew that he would not become Nessa’s only lover. Tulkas, for his part, became accustomed to Nessa’s new and exciting life, and to the shame of his time with Varda.

It was two mortal weeks after this that Tulkas, who had seen Nessa welcome Ingwe, whose wife was fully trusting (foolishly so) if the least of the Valier, that Tulkas was relaxing against the side of his house. The window was open and Nessa’s audible sounds of pleasure echoed. A set of deep booms followed, and he turned to see Ulmo standing toward him. Beside Ulmo was Mairon, fresh from an exciting visit to Nienna.

The stench that clung to him and the audible noises from Nessa’s mouth and the absence of Tulkas to produce them had Ulmo raise one of his horns to blow alarm when Tulkas suddenly moved, flashing a ring in his hand, and Ulmo stared bemused, the horn dropping as the Ring slipped on his finger, so startled by the randomness of what was placed upon him that he made no effort to resist. The Ring’s powers went into effect and Ulmo seemed to oscillate from a towering cloud of vapor to his true form to a brilliant statue of ice that moved until he finally stabilized, and turned to Mairon, looking at the Ring.

Kneeling, he spoke:

Hail Mairon, Master of Arda.

Mairon’s grin was savage as he told Ulmo:

Go to your palace and claim your vassal’s spouse, and until she has had three of your bastards, do not return here.

With Ulmo’s broad and somewhat empty smile and booming tread went the last hope of Valinor for true relief from the growing power that was spiraling through it.

With Ulmo conquered, to go for Irmo and Este next was as nothing at all, Irmo and Neste having seen the changes at work with the fall of the other Valar, kneeling when Mairon strode in with Tulkas behind him. Tulkas, as was Mairon’s won, now wore clothes that were puffy and made him look comical, Irmo and Este unable to resist a smile even aware of what was truly marching toward them in confidence.

Your king commands you, as Annatar became Gorthaur, and they held out their hands and received new Rings. With that, Irmo and Este retreated, though Tulkas strode to Este and pulled her against a wall to give her a deep and passionate kiss as his reward, only for her to groan in disgust and pull away when a dark spot stained his pants and the odor of semen wafted through.

She sighed.

No wonder Nessa needs mortals as lovers. Come, my husband. We shall await our true Master’s summons.

Tulkas flushed and Mairon rolled his eyes.

Pathetic, was his singular commentary, as he moved off. With these conquered, last came the confrontation he looked forward to the most, the one with his old master and his spouse.

Only Aule and Yavanna, the lord of Forge and the Lady of the Woods, remained as potential leaders of a Free Valinor, and they had seen the dismal changes overwhelming their fellows with a deep shame and chagrin. It was clear that Mairon, his old servant, had become a new kind of Dark Lord more terrible than Melkor, and far more successful. Tulkas was now a laughingstock with an unfaithful wife whose appetite was voracious and uniquely among the Valier geared toward mortals.

Ulmo was vanished as if he’d never come to Aman, though that was nothing infrequent.

Nienna was now a regular ‘guest’ of Mairon, and always emerged flushed and her gray clothes became more form-fitting and exposed more skin though her weeping was no less profound regardless, as her function’s crucialness had intensified. She, embodiment of sorrow and Despair, wept the tears the Rings denied their wielders. So too did she weep for herself, and for what Mairon’s cruelty was making anew and in a more dreadful form. Great sorrow gripped her, weeping and mourning in a land where tears elsewhere fell silent.

Orome the huntsman now was a hunter of feasts and of drink, and did not spend time chasing the old monsters of Melkor the Morgoth, stating that in any event it did not matter, repeating the once-rumors known now to be truthful facts that there were not truly monsters but kin, the spawn of their King, who had fallen upon the creatures of Yavanna in his lusts in Angband under Melkor’s enchantments.

Vana, in turn, had become disgusted with him and taken up with mortals in Arda itself, going to a Dwarf-hold where she had offered herself as bride and mother of children to the King, making derisory statements of her husband. The lords of Khazad-Dum had been speechless with her beauty but then welcomed her freely, and she was now espoused to Durin IV, and separated from the wastrel that Orome had become.

And the King and the Queen were no longer figures of reverence, either. Varda’s failed dalliance with Tulkas led to regular sharpness between them, and to her at one point blocking him against a wall and quite literally grinding against him in front of a crowd of the Quendi who revered her most. Such was their shame at the foul behavior of she whom had once been their holiest figure that Varda became not Elentari but Mukentari, Queen of the Shit, due to her slowly degrading herself not just with Tulkas, but her overt overtures to Ingwe in front of the Elder King, who just stood there and did nothing except give her a friendly, even encouraging smile.

The Elder King himself was useless to do more than sit on his throne in public and sleep absent the direction of Mairon, who ensured a firm and steady hand to the lords and rulers of Aman, who soon began to rally to him. That the Rings shaped this was not truly suspected, nor would it be questioned if it had. The Valar were becoming figures of scorn and mockery, the Vanyar speaking as scornfully of them as had the Noldor before them, and yet it was the very pattern the Valar had established that had earned that behavior.

Such was his reliance and the affection of his gestures, that it became a rumor that the old relationship of Elder King and Mairon from the fastness of Morgoth had not in truth ended, that Mairon was a favorite and able to give vigor to the otherwise useless Elder King, and this too became a source of scorn to him that a wife so beautiful as the increasingly less beloved Elbereth had been driven to the extent of her behavior due to him.

In all this, publicly, Mairon retained the beautiful and fair form of Annatar, honeyed words keeping the peace of Aman, and stabilizing the divided realm in a way that its masters were unable to do in full, and in each case the careful intrigues of Mairon had made himself look brilliant, a feat that absent the ever-increasing temptation to take his Ring had exhausted himself. He had made a point of his importance in Aman by departing on a visit to those in Arda who had taken his Rings, amplified by his contentment to savor the results of his successes and to ensure that his return would force the confrontation on his return.

For a Valarin month, fifty mortal years, Annatar was absent, Nienna’s servant Olorin taking on a humanoid form and accompanying him. Olorin did not fully trust Mairon, and was one to whom the power of the Rings would be at their most slippery, but he could be diverted to seek the more benevolent ends. Indeed, due to Olorin, Annatar discovered an entire sub-tribe of Men who had degenerated in size to live in surprisingly comfortable holes in the ground, and cultivated a most charming weed that he began to smoke, relishing its comforts and ordering the start of trade in this pipe-weed with Aman.

Aule and Yavanna, last of the old-model Valar before the coming of the Lord of the Rings to Valinor, watched Aman nearly disintegrate in a month of the Elder King’s misrule absent Mairon’s advice and person. In his slumber on the throne and the grievances of Varda, the King and the Queen provided further fodder for the growing scorn, especially when Ingwe’s wife learned of Varda having joined Nessa in Ingwe’s conquests.

The scene that followed, the outraged bellows of Ingya at Varda, who simply ignored them and then turned around to backhand her and told her that if she didn’t wish for others to slake themselves on her husband, she should do so herself led to further and much angrier notions. When she turned to the Elder King, she looked at him squarely and at his wife, and he just shrugged. Her eyes narrowed, and then Ingya hatched her own plan to try to get vengeance on Varda by seducing Manwe.

When Manwe did not rise at first and then did rise and came too quickly, she spluttered in discontent, right as Varda stepped into her house to look at her. The stories that spread told that the Star-Queen had laughed mockingly and asked Ingya if she knew now why she was so keen to take other lovers, not least among them Mairon, and Ingya had, with the Elder King’s juices splattered on her face from hairline to her cleavage, nodded.

Varda then told her to leave, and Ingya found herself drawn to Tulkas instead, and the still more embarrassing scene that followed left the First and the Least of the Valar in further shame. Aule tried to get those bequeathed with the Rings to allow him to examine one, but none would do so.

Finally, the sail with the symbol of the burning eye was visible, and crowds gathered in excitement on Aman’s shore. Mairon had returned, and with him order. Waiting on the shore was Aule, who requested audience with the King and Mairon at his side. A smug expression on his face, Mairon nodded, and told him to bring Yavanna with him.

The month of chaos had ended swiftly with Mairon’s return, the Valar no more respected, but Mairon welcome as the figure of order and stability in Aman. The climate of fear and anger had dissipated, a welcome change to Aule and Yavanna, the Lord and Lady of Forge and Woods stepping into the audience chamber. The wards of Mairon that were sent on the Mahanxanar were mighty, and where the request had been for an audience of King and Mairon, Varda was there, too.

A new robe for her of Mairon’s own make came high enough that the area between her legs, clean shaven, was fully visible, and her ample cleavage more than. Her midriff in its full taughtness was shown likewise, and with each subtle motion of her body, her cleavage jiggled with motions that distracted both Aule and Yavanna as much as the Queen’s open-legged seating position did. To them, her ‘robe’ barely qualified as one,, more the kind of clothing that the more refined in the erotic arts among mortals would wear in the bedroom. Varda had seen it with glee in a mirror and proclaimed it her favorite, and now that left Aule and Yavanna more distracted than they wished.

It was a hollow pretense of the old Elder King that looked at them from the throne, the continual touch of Mairon on his bare arm marked with Orc-clan colors the thing that kept him focused, and managed. Gradually the truth dawned on Aule, whose glare of anger was followed by his reaching for his hammer, only to find none present. Manwe then looked at him.

You dare to seek to raise a weapon in the presence of your king?

Aule snarled.

You are bewitched, Elder King! You do not rule in Aman any longer, this Morgoth-whelp has sought to usurp you. Remove your Ring,  my lord, let me help you.

You would rebel against me, then, the same as our lost brother?

No, lord. Aule sighed. I would not.

Mairon is my ally, and my friend. To seek to rebel against him is to seek to rebel against me, so pledge to me loyalty, must accept his aid and that of his wondrous Rings.

Look at your wife, O Elder King. See the casualness with which she bares that which should be kept secret.

What she bares is beautiful.

Yes it is, and it should not be for the eyes of all to see, particularly in the Council.

Fine words given that before Mairon she managed to see that which belonged to the rest of you, Manwe hissed. Mairon’s face was carefully level, as he whispered into Manwe’s ear.

My apologies, brother, we tread old ground.

Aule cocked his head.

Mairon calms you that readily, then, brother?

Yes, he does.

Aule tapped his chin with his finger.

In the month since he vanished, your realm nearly came undone. You were on the throne but your wife shamed you and all of us, while Nessa has become the harlot of the Elves and Tulkas, once our strongest, a laughingstock who none respect, not even I. Nienna has been weeping non-stop in a realm where none but her wail, and the murmuring of the Elves against those of us in the Mahanxanar is become treacherous.

Manwe looked at him calmly.

The more reason, then, to respect Mairon if he keeps these things from rolling outward, would you not say?

Aule froze, the point leaving him speechless for a moment.

Yavanna, who had watched things equally closely and was unable to remove her gaze from between Varda’s legs said toward Mairon:

Lord Mairon, if Aman depends on you to this degree, we cannot have you return to Arda.

That won’t do, Lady Yavanna. I am still atoning for my crimes. The changes in the Elder King remind me just how much there are crimes for me to atone for. Much of the suffering he underwent in Angband informs his behavior here among all of you, and it is my shame that I played my part in this, and in what he has become. But Arda itself still suffers, and we cannot be content to sit here in the Council Chambers and do nothing.

If you leave, our Kingdom will fall in a month.

With that same golden-eyed look, his eyes met Manwe’s, and he pointed to Orome, who gave a disgruntled sigh and got up to hand them Rings.

Take them, on the orders of your King, and as proof of your loyalty.

Looking at them, Aule’s eyes narrowed.

You-

Your loyalty, or your exile, Forge-King. One or the other.

Sighing, they put the Rings upon their fingers and Mairon then snapped his own fingers, as he let go of the glamour of Annatar and Gorthaur now stood openly near the ensorcelled Valar.

He removed the ruling Ring from a pouch tied to his waist, and placed it upon his finger and the light within his eyes and the potency of his power enhanced. And with that, the light in Aman changed in a singular moment, becoming hard and cold.

Manwe assembled the Valar, Ulmo alone absent and fulfilling the words of Mairon and in the process thereof, who rather than speaking in the language of thought, as was their wont and preference, spoke audibly:

The last month has shown absent the will of Mairon that Aman can no longer be governed by myself, or Varda, or any of the Aratar.

Their gaze turned to Tulkas, and then back to Manwe himself.

I, the Elder King, have left my wife sorely disappointed for centuries until she has sought love from others. The long-standing discontent of Tulkas and Nessa has become a further source of mockery before all Aman, leaving those of us here bereft of standing before the Quendi. The lesser Valar have not risen to show that we are worthy of respect, the Aratar have stumbled. Aule and Yavanna have kept to their functions and are the worthiest of us, but they too have been absent.

He turned to Mairon, now standing before all of them.

On grounds that we can no longer fulfill our duties and our functions without your aid, Lord Mairon, we proclaim you Lord of Aman, and master of the realm of Aman, and beyond it all Arda. You were my ally and my confederate in Angband where we both knew the long torments of Melkor the Morgoth, who sought to bind us in fetters of our own lives, and our own failures.  You have ever been the one with a kind word and the figure of stability, of order, of dignity here and in all the ways and paths of Aman the Blessed-Land.

He made a very mortal-sounding sigh.

To have been the Master of Aman as you are now is not a simple task, it has challenged you to rise far beyond what was known you were capable of being. You have shown us the deeper ways we may tread.  We honor you, O Mairon.

Manwe descended from his throne and knelt before him before all the assembled Valar save Ulmo, who had he been present would have agreed no less given the Ring and its power.

You have been my most faithful ally, old friend. Will you not aid us all, and speak to us and guide us?

Mairon smiled and took one of Manwe’s hands in both of his. In the towering and brutish form of Gorthaur, his truth revealed now that the Rings rendered the Valar thrall to it, enjoying it, kneeling before it in reverence and homage as should have been so with his former master had he been worthy of the initial power he was entrusted.

Of course, lover. Of course.

The next day, at high noon, the assembled leaders of Aman and the masses, who saw all through one of Mairon’s new creations that he had quietly diffused in preparation for this day via his Palantiri, knelt as Eonwe removed the crown from the head of Manwe, a spell of Mairon’s shrinking it to suit the smaller scale of Gorthaur the Maia’s head. The crown was placed upon him, and Eonwe, once the herald of the Elder King, now the Master of the Court of Gorthaur’s new realm of Angan, the name deliberately reminiscent of his old master’s realm, proclaimed Tar-Mairon the new Lord of Angan, High King of all Ardan Ainur and the Children of Illuvatar, co-king with the Elder King in name as he had been in fact these last few years.

Beyond this, he  first spat in Manwe’s eyes, then turned his back on him, kicking the dust from his feet at the original King.

He turned around.

You have proven unworthy of your title and of your crown. Aman has become a realm of chaos due to your rule since your return in Angband. I resign my oath to you as your servant and proclaim myself in duty and in thrall and in service herald of the High King, regardless of where the status of the Elder King is at any given moment.

Clad in new, refined robes of brilliant reddish hue, Mairon raised his clawed hands triumphantly, and gave a dulcet address that said much and said nothing at all with a fanged grin. The first phase of his campaign was complete, Aman was now his. Numenor would not quite become his until he set out to conquer the Kingdom of Elros Tar-Minyatur.

And beyond Numenor was the entirety of the rest of Arda itself. But all that could wait. For now…..after the coronation, he turned to the dethroned Manwe, looking at his robes that reflected the royal hue, and then with a wave of his hand burned away the clothing, glorying in the unconstrained use of his sorcery.

As his gaze turned to Tulkas, who stood up and went to Manwe, the deposed King replaced robes of royal blue with a coarse tunic that did not fully cover his genitals, which  while respectable in size for mortals led to warbling laughter from the crowds of Arda. Manwe in turn stood up and the warbling laughter became a tumult, as in a single moment the newly victorious Tar-Mairon completed the humiliation of Manwe Sulimo, once the singular King, and now reduced to the least of the Valar, beneath even Tulkas the Cuckold.

In the first decrees of the  new reign, Manwe was expelled from his house for the duration of Tar-Mairon’s wedding night, the wedding held the afternoon of the coronation, straight after it as those things which were his were taken by Gorthaur’s new Herald and destroyed with a hammer from the forges of Aule, the clashes of light standing out brightly on the Holy Mountain, and Manwe, exiled from its edges, dwelt furthest of the Valar at the outskirts of Valinor where the new Skinchanger-King could visit him on a whim.

Varda Mukentari was not exiled with her husband, but wed to Mairon in a mockery of the wedding of Tulkas and Nessa, Varda made to dance in full nudity before the assembled masses of Aman, who watched entranced as the now-remarried Star Queen savored both her shame and Mairon’s triumph. Her name formally changed to Mukentari, Mairon finished the ceremony by having the lords of the Eldar honor Varda as the new and improved Queen deserved, the nude queen having large buckets of coarse Dwarf-beer engulfing her face and hair, leaving her with a sharp stench and more than a little tipsy.

That night, Mairon took her to wife, the Palantir showing the depose Manwe the sight of the beer-drenched Varda in the bed, her legs spread wide, purring and demanding that she be fucked and fucked ruthlessly at that by her new husband, stating she at last had a husband capable of properly satiating her. Mairon’s claim was brutal and for hours she was beneath him, her legs wrapped around him, her screams echoing around the Holy Mountain, the bed creaking.

Varda had taken Mairon many times since she had first knelt, but nothing topped her second wedding night with so experienced a husband with the heat of a breath that darkened the stars in her shoulder, and the roiling climaxes that brought bursts of starlight marking her flushed body. Mairon smiled, kissing her brutally, savoring that her lips and experiencing her like this. Varda preferred to take charge in the bedroom, and had done so with Manwe, her dearly beloved husband.

Now, Mairon was effortlessly pinning her, kissing her, biting her.

Climaxes before Angband, even, were infrequent and most often the work of her own focus on herself, something there had been no sign of Eru’s disfavor for. How she had envied the frequent pleasures of Nessa and of Vana and of Yavanna. But here? Mairon was hung, and he knew all too well how to wield that which was his natural gift in a Fana. Not only was she not discontent and seeing her spouse roll over, she felt a wild and passionate connection more intense than she had ever felt, something beyond the power of the Rings that provided an entirely artificial element that ensured no female (nor male, when Mairon would wish it, and wish it he would) Powers were ever dissatisfied with Mairon doing even the most perfunctory actions.

Starlight lit the room and echoed outward in the kind of flashes that marked others of the married Valar almost every night and even with Nessa and her new love Cirdan, to whom she had betrothed while formally declaring Tulkas the Laughingstock and her marriage annulled on failure to fulfill a most fundamental duty, even with a mortal pleasing her, such were the frequent markers that all was well. Only  with the King and Queen had the flashes been infrequent, once a decade if that much in Valarin time.

And now, they echoed with a brilliance that had never been imagined from stately and wrongfully seen as chaste Varda. The brightness was such that even absent the Palantir, Manwe flushed at realizing that even without everything else Mairon might have succeeded if he had convinced Varda to let him in, and with her on his side, everything could have been so. Part of him felt a raw hollowness and sickness, but it was more than counterbalanced by the gratitude that his good friend and ally of Angband had come with him and for him, freeing him of an unhappy marriage, and of the burden of a throne he was so incapable of bearing.

The next morning, Mairon had descended on his place in the form of a great bat-winged thing, transforming into the towering form of Gorthaur. Kissing Mairon with what he immediately recognized as a mouth full of his Queen’s juices, Manwe  groaned pleasurably into the kisses, before Mairon pulled away.

You fulfilled your duty for the wedding night aptly and showed your fidelity. I am the High King, not the Elder King, but it is not fitting for a former King to moulder here in empty fields. Orome is not suited to the task of huntsman, which of course you are not either, as he pinched Manwe’s cheek with a roughness that made the deposed King whimper slightly.

But you have shown yourself more than adequate for the new role that awaits you. You are Elder King no more, you are Father of the Great Beasts. You are not fallen, in truth, only in part, until you have fulfilled your tasks.

With that he brought Manwe to the shores of Arda, where Nessa, flushed with pleasure, and her husband Cirdan stood before him.

This boat is enchanted to take you to the shores of Arda. You are sent there for four Valarin years, Manwe Lamanadar to prove to me your loyalty as you did in Aman of old. Bring back the Great Beasts of our mutual former lord and master the Morgoth, not in his weak dross, but the refined gold of your bloodline. When that time is done and the new races have enough fathers and mothers to proliferate, return to us, Laman-Ada.

With that he slapped Manwe roughly on his ass and Manwe sailed to Arda.

For four Valarin years, two mortal centuries, Manwe Sulimo was absent from Arda as Tar-Mairon, the new High King, subtly began to refashion it in his image. The beautiful old angles of the realm of Manwe became slowly more akin to the brutal sharp edges of old Angband, and much that had been a glorious thing of splendor never matched in mortal spheres became overlaid with darkness and sigils of bloodshed and murder. The Valar of old had been as worthy of respect as the Elder King, but under the reign of Mairon, Ulmo at last returned in the last months of the first year, with his vassal meek and his vassal’s wife the proud mother of Ulmo’s twins.

Kneeling before the High King, Ulmo took his seat and residence in Valinor at Tar-Mairon’s pleasure. From time to time, Tar-Mairon would return to Arda unclad to check on the deposed King and to ensure that the Beast-Father was fulfilling his duties, and in these absences of a Valarin week or occasionally month, the realm foundered in his absence.

The Valar were incapable of maintaining their duties, so It fell to Cirdan, betrothed and soon to be wed to Nessa, to govern the realm as best was in his power, and Cirdan’s skill provided what order Aman possessed. Cirdan had soon moved, with Nessa, to a new residence just beneath the palace, and was formally made the Ruler-in-absence by the High King, a move welcome to the Quendi.

In his absence, Varda Mukentari sought to find new lovers, only to find that her shame in the time prior to her marriage limited her prospects. Tar-Mairon’s specific New Orcs, products of her former husband and Orcs, became her most frequent seekers when all else in Aman would refuse her, and she became supremely popular in the Orc barracks. The High King, on his return the first time and learning of his wife’s activities simply held his hands out and said that Varda’s lusts were her issue and that he could not condone them but he would not condemn them.

As the four years passed and new, stronger breeds of creatures akin to the old monsters of Melkor the Morgoth grew, it was in that fourth year that the boat returned, and Manwe Lamanadar, triumphant and flushed with his pleasures of fulfilling the High King’s decrees returned to the new, more militarized Aman.

Cirdan, with his enthralled wife who in four Valarin years was as ardent for him as in their wedding night, and High King Tar-Mairon were waiting for him.

The immense stout form of Gorthaur crossed his arms in front of his breastplate and smirked when Manwe knelt before him, heedless that his tunic no longer covered the lower half of his body.

I have returned, my lord. The task you have set me is fulfilled.

Excellent. In that case…..

With the return of the crown, the Elder King looked confused.

You had to fulfill your task, Elder King. Aman cannot endure without my rule. It is fine without you.

Manwe nodded.

As he strode back up the Holy Mountain, the Eldar mocked him for what wasn’t beneath his legs and he simply tried for more pride, only to feel them slapping his ass and groping him, the lack of respect for the Valar magnified by Sauron’s four years of direct rule in Aman.

It was a panting, fully erect Manwe who returned and took his place not on the throne, which even with his restoration to the crown Mairon took as his own, but to a larger version of the seat beside it. Manwe took his seat, proud to wear the necklace adorned with Morgul-runes that the High King had given him, and of his Orc children who were proudly making nuisances of themselves with the Quendi women.

Angband was long ago, and now……..now the rightful king ruled it.

He smiled warmly at the enthroned Tar-Mairon, clad in the monstrous suit of armor he had forged for himself now full time, the Master Ring glowing brightly on his finger at all times. In his return, new decrees began to stem forward from the throne. All of them in truth the ideas of Tar-Mairon, but all of them credited to Manwe Lamanadar, who relied strongly on the will and the whim of his new co-King.

That night, as his head bobbed on the High King’s cock, Manwe reflected on how grateful he was to have succeeded in his goals. Freed of direct responsibility, now, and the weight of the Crown. Truly had High King Tar-Mairon freed him that day when he had found and bound him straight from the gates of Valinor the day the trees were darkened. He swallowed Tar-Mairon’s load with a contented moan, making no questions about his own pleasure as he’d asked of his fallen brother back in the day. The High King knew best, after all.



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