Full Circle

Buffy stood there absolutely stunned; she had no idea that the war had been going on that long. After the initial shock wore off, she angrily grabbed Sauron by his tunic and said, “Why the hell didn’t you come and help me? My people are being slaughtered by Illyria’s forces!”

The evil Maia slapped her hands away. “I don’t have the authority to send Melkor’s armies into battle,” he retorted, the resentment in his voice apparent. “I’ve told you before; he will not listen to reason. You must convince him to act, not me! You’re the only one he’ll listen to, his darling Melisse.” He shook his head in disgust. “I expected you to have the wisdom to seek him out before the war started, not after!”

“Why do you always have to be such an asshole?” she spat back.

“Instead of wasting time with your meager attempts at insulting me, why don’t you get your… ass in there and speak with Melkor,” Sauron said with loathing as he pointed down the passageway. Buffy stood there scowling at the Necromancer. “Or perhaps you prefer to linger about the gates all day whilst your people continue to fall in battle.”

The Slayer bit her lip. She had to force herself to suppress the overwhelming urge to ‘bitch slap’ the Maia across the entrance hall. Unfortunately, she knew that he was right; she was wasting time. Immediately, she changed into a falcon so she could reach Melkor’s dwelling place faster. It was still some distance west of the gates. Sauron followed below once he had morphed into a wolf.

They traveled through the many dark and dank passageways that led to the fortress in the bowels of the mountain chain. The sound of numerous hammers beating against metal indicated that they were nearing their destination. Once they reached the doors to the Great Hall, Buffy and Sauron changed back to their mortal forms.

With trepidation, she entered the mammoth chamber. The many servants of Melkor warily eyed her as she crossed the room to the dais where Morgoth sat on his throne. His facade was that of the intimidating monster, the iron crown with the three Silmarils rested atop his head. His dark eyes looked at her disapprovingly, making Buffy slightly nervous. For the first time in a long while, the Slayer felt incredibly small.

“Do my eyes deceive me or has my Melisse returned to me at long last?” he asked as the murmurings in the room ceased.

“I need your help… ” she started before he held up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

“Is that so?” he queried with a small grin on his face. “I take it that the war with Illyria is not going as well as you had hoped.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here… ” began Buffy before Morgoth cut her off again.

“You stink!” he interjected with his nose wrinkled. “And I find that most unbecoming. Wash off that filth then we’ll speak.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, shocked by the prospect of a delay.

“I desire to see the woman in you, not the warrior.” Melkor leaned forward; the smile widened on his monstrous face. “I advise you to heed my counsel if you’ve come seeking my aid. It is I who has the ability to forestall your victory… or defeat, whichever it may be.”

“But… but my people are almost surrounded,” sputtered the Slayer incredulously. She couldn’t believe that Morgoth wouldn’t talk with her until she bathed. That seemed preposterous to her.

“Thuringwethil!” he shouted. The vampire maiden quickly approached the throne waiting for her lord’s command. “Take Inanna to my private chambers and see to it that she is made presentable… ”

“I don’t have time for that,” protested Buffy. “Illyria’s about to… ”

“I have made but a simple request, Melisse,” he said gently yet firmly. “Do I need to remind you that it’s not a matter open to debate? My will reigns here, my sweet, not yours.” He turned his attention back to Thuringwethil. “You will find clean garments for the Lady in the mahogany wardrobe. Go!”

The vampire grabbed her arm. The eyes of the Slayer bore into the woman; she quickly released her grip. “Come, my Lady,” she said politely. Buffy looked up at Morgoth. He refused to meet her gaze or allow her to continue arguing. “This way, Inanna,” indicated Thuringwethil.

“I know the way,” said Buffy dejectedly as she left the chamber for Melkor’s private rooms. She cursed under her breath the whole time they walked to Morgoth’s inner sanctum.

As Thuringwethil prepared her bath, the Slayer looked at herself in the mirror for the first time in a long while. She didn’t realize how nasty she was. A thick layer of blood, guts, grime, and unidentifiable bodily fluids coated her body. Buffy didn’t realize how much she stunk until she peeled her clothing off; the stench was awful. It must have been months since she had last bathed. While she scrubbed herself raw, Thuringwethil tried her best to brush the many knots out of her hair. It was so badly tangled that she instructed the vampire to cut her long blonde locks to shoulder length.

After she was cleaned and dressed, she was escorted to Morgoth’s private dining chamber. He had returned to his handsome form and sat at the head of the table. He was quite pleased by his beloved’s appearance. Buffy was ushered to the chair at the opposite end, some forty feet away from the Lord of Angband. The board was laden with so much food that the Slayer sat there agape. She had consumed so much lembas since the war had started that anything remotely different made her mouth water.

“Eat,” ordered Melkor as his attendants began loading their plates with victuals. Guilt and shame washed over the Slayer. How could she possibly enjoy a feast fit for a king while her people were fighting and dying by her command in the East? It was wrong. Morgoth sensed her apprehensiveness. “I insist that you eat, my darling. Put aside your troubles and enjoy the food that I had prepared especially for you,” he said before taking a sip of wine. “I trust that you left your most skillful generals to govern things in your absence.”

Buffy gave in. She couldn’t resist the pile of delicious food on her plate. Surely, there would be no harm in her eating as she spoke to Melkor. Her attempt at conversing with the Vala across the long table was hindered by the eight mammoth candelabras that adorned the tabletop. She couldn’t get a clear view of Melkor unless she tilted her head to the side, which annoyed her considerably. The frustrated Slayer picked up her plate and utensils, rose from her seat, and sat in the chair beside the Lord of Angband. Morgoth was delighted by that gesture, believing that she longed to be close to him. That alone made him reconsider punishing Buffy for her past deeds, notably her ‘relationship’ with the second son of Fëanor.

Morgoth refused to discuss Illyria while they ate, preferring to make ‘small talk’ instead. Buffy played along since she really didn’t have any other choice. He held all the power, the power that she so desperately wanted to wield, that she had to wield. And he knew that too. At one point during the meal, she had mentioned the war causing Melkor to threaten to delay her return even more if she attempted to bring the subject up again. The Slayer was caught between a rock and a hard place.

When they finished eating, they retreated to one of the sitting rooms. Morgoth was now willing to discuss their firstborn. Buffy told him all about the atrocities being committed by those under the sway of their daughter. He remained indifferent as she told him the many ghastly sights that she herself had witnessed when she visited the cities of Bâb-edh-Dhrâ and Numeira with Sauron.

“… They were actually eating infants! Infants, Melkor! They were roasting them on a spit. I couldn’t believe it when I saw that.”

“That is no different than eating a young cu,” he said unconcernedly.

“Are you out of your mind?” she queried in amazement. She rose from the couch and grabbed a bottle of wine from the sideboard. “How can you compare people to kine?” She poured the deep red liquid into two chalices.

“Many of my men have a hungering for the children of Ilúvatar. I see nothing wrong with it as long as they don’t eat my slaves.” He chuckled when he saw the look of revulsion on Buffy’s face. “I don’t partake of it myself, but I see nothing wrong with rewarding my people with flesh when they’ve completed their tasks successfully.”

“And I suppose you don’t condemn those that fuck animals either!” said Buffy disdainfully.

“That is sickening,” replied a grimacing Morgoth. “But I do not see what this has to do with Illyria.”

“Your daughter permits that crap to happen. She has no morals… or conscience, for that matter.”

“So now she’s my daughter,” he remarked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, it’s not like I helped raise her. She’d be a different… demon if I had,” answered the Slayer as she sat beside Morgoth on the couch. She handed him a drink.

“Then it seems that you’re to blame for Illyria’s lack of morality,” he countered. “A child needs her mother.”

Buffy was getting flustered. Nothing that she had said seemed to faze Melkor. Nothing. She decided that she had to play a different angle. After draining her cup, she turned towards Morgoth, taking his hands in hers.

“You’re probably right,” she agreed with a sigh. Buffy started caressing the tops of his blackened hands tenderly. “But we still have a problem with our daughter, Melkor. Middle-earth is supposed to be our domain. We’re the rulers here, not Illyria. As soon as she conquers my people in the East, she’s gonna be heading this way. She’ll be gunning for you next… Do you know that she calls herself the King of Arda?” The muscle in his cheek began to twitch. Now he was paying attention to what the Slayer had to say. “Oh, yeah,” she added with a nod of her head.

“I’ve delegated the regions east of the Orocarni to Illyria to do as she wishes. She will not disobey me by crossing the mountains.”

“Melkor, she intends to battle her way to Valinor, and believe me, she’s got the manpower. I’ve barely put a dent in her forces,” said Buffy fretfully.

He laughed. “So, is that why you’ve come? You wish to protect our brethren in the West.”

“I don’t give a damn about the Valar,” she said angrily as she pulled her hands away. She leaned against the arm of the couch, her arms folded across her chest. “They’ve screwed me over one too many times.”

Morgoth studied her for a few moments. “What’s brought about this change of heart of yours?” he queried. Buffy remained silent. A smile then came to his face. “They’ve abandoned you in your time of need, I take it. I’ve told you before, Melisse, they cannot be trusted. They care for none save themselves.”

“Yeah, I know. I should’ve listened to your words of wisdom sooner,” she answered remorsefully. “Illyria can have them. I don’t care. I only care about us. And Middle-earth. We can’t let her take our dominion, Melkor. We’ve got to stop her. I can’t do it alone. I need you.” The Slayer looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Why should I dethrone my only child when she has not violated my orders?”

“Yet!” countered Buffy. “She’s going to and you know it. For Eru’s sake, she’s claiming your title! You’re the Lord of Arda, not her!” The muscle started to twitch a bit more. “She thinks she’s more powerful than you. That’s why she’ll defy your words. She wants to usurp your kingship. We can’t let that happen.”

Morgoth refilled their cups before taking a long drink. He stared absently at the wall. “Do you know why I sent her to the East?” he queried faintly. The Slayer shook her head. He let out a heavy sigh. “Illyria managed to turn some of my disciples against me for my cowardice,” he continued in a pained voice. “I prefer commanding my troops from afar rather than fighting on the field.” He looked at Buffy with sorrowful eyes. “I am no warrior, Melisse… I fear getting bested on the battlefield.” She was taken aback by the fact that Melkor had just revealed his deepest and darkest secret to her. After hearing of his past deeds, Buffy wouldn’t have ever thought that he feared any type of confrontation. She looked at him sympathetically as she took his hands in hers again.

“I’m not afraid of fighting. I relish it. It’s what I was made to do. Let me lead your forces, Melkor. Let me take her down.”

He looked down at their intertwined hands. “She is my only family,” he replied weakly.

Buffy moved forward on the couch, her knees folded beneath her. She pulled one hand free, lifting Morgoth’s chin so that their eyes met. “And what am I? We’re family, Melkor. I see that now. You’ve always been there for me even when I was too stupid to see it. I fled when I should have stayed. You offered me the world and I foolishly turned it away.” She lovingly stroked his cheek. “I don’t want to make that same mistake again. I’m your muscle, your champion. Command me, Melindo.”

Her eyes sparkled with such loving admiration that Morgoth’s sadness quickly melted away. The sincerity of her words brought great joy to his heart. She had come to him because she realized that they were meant to be together. His Melisse. The love of his life. His soul mate.

“Blessed be this day,” Melkor said before warmly embracing her. “How I’ve longed for this moment.” He pulled out of the hug and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love you, my darling Melisse, I always have.”

“I love you, too,” answered Buffy as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She looked adoringly at Morgoth. “And I assume I always have,” she added with a smile.

“Prove it,” he said.

“What?”

“Words can be said in vain. I recall your saying, ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Show me that your words are not hollow. Make me believe you speak the truth.”

The smile faded from Buffy’s face, but her gaze remained locked on Morgoth. She crawled onto his lap and said, “Nothing would make me happier.” She pressed her lips against his. As their kiss turned passionate, the Slayer’s stomach twisted into knots. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought that it might pop out of her chest. Melkor pulled her tightly into his arms before he rose to his feet. Buffy impulsively wrapped her legs around his waist as the Vala crossed the room to the door leading to his bedchamber. Luthor’s words screamed in her mind:

“You’re playing a very dangerous game… ”

And indeed, she was! The Slayer did not take her current situation lightly. She knew that there would be obstacles that she needed to overcome to win Melkor over. Buffy had died twice in the past to save mankind. If having sex with Morgoth achieved the same result, would it not be worth it?

When Morgoth reached the foot of the bed, the Slayer placed her feet on the mattress. She stood upright as he grabbed the fabric of her gown with both hands, pulling it over her head so that she stood there naked before him. As his mouth found its way to her breasts, she struggled with the string of his tunic. It was tied in a knot forcing Buffy to tear the garment off him. Her aggressive behavior excited the Dark Foe all the more. She pressed her mouth against his as he eagerly worked on removing the rest of his clothing.

Her conscience cried out in despair. Don’t do this, it said. Think of Maglor. Don’t break your marital vows so needlessly.

I’ve gotta do, what I’ve gotta do, contested the other voice in her head. It’s for the betterment of the world. I have no other choice.

Buffy’s eyes glanced at one of the portraits of herself that hung on the wall of the bedchamber. She smiled naughtily as she emulated the seductive pose that Morgoth had painted years ago.

“Take me, Melkor,” she said with yearning. He looked at her lustily as he slowly started crawling across the bed.

Buffy had finally come to understand who she really was. She was not merely the Slayer, but more importantly, the Vala of Love. Her greatest gift was her body, something that she had always used as a weapon. But now, she needed to realize her ability to use that body as a tool. A tool that could manipulate men by having them succumb to the desires of the flesh. Her flesh.

Her conscience continued to argue bitterly. When Melkor entered her, the voice hissed, So begins your downward spiral. Adulterer! It then ceased.

Each had their eyes fixed unblinkingly on the other as their intertwined bodies moved rhythmically together. Both began to emit a light; his black, hers blue. Buffy’s mind instantly flashed back to the time when she and Marto had ‘united’ thus bringing forth the Oracles. Fearing that that was about to happen again, the Slayer willed herself not to become impregnated by Melkor.

Morgoth willed the darkness of his essence to engulf the Slayer wholly. She had managed to keep it astray until the first wave of pleasure washed over her. Buffy closed her eyes before letting out a throaty moan; she allowed his essence to devour hers…



A sore, but well rested Buffy woke the following morning, only to find that Melkor was gone. As she sat up in bed, she could hear voices coming from the adjoining sitting room; the door was left ajar. She climbed out of the bed and looked for her gown that should’ve been on the floor from the night before. It was nowhere to be found. Anxious to hear what was being said in the other room, the Slayer grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself. She tip toed to the door and listened.

“… It looks to be in order,” she heard Melkor say. “If Melisse doesn’t agree…”

“She will, my Lord,” interjected Sauron. “What choice does she have?”

“I fear losing her again, Sauron,” Morgoth answered gravely. “We’ve been separated for many long years. She has finally come to me on her own accord… I don’t want her to leave. Ever.”

The room fell quiet for a few minutes.

“We need to take things one step at a time. I’m confident that she’ll consent to your proposal,” said Sauron, breaking the silence.

“Perhaps. Whether she agrees or not, you will lead the armies against Illyria… ”

“The hell you say!” declared Buffy loudly as she stepped into the sitting room. Both Sauron and Morgoth were seated on the couch. On the table in front of them was a roll of parchment and a tea set.

“Melisse, you’re awake,” said Melkor as he rose to his feet. “I hope you slept well.” He walked over and kissed the top of her head while she sneered at the Necromancer.

“Yeah, like a rock,” she replied shortly. Buffy turned her gaze to Morgoth. “What’s this talk about Sauron leading your forces against Illyria? I’m your champion, not him.”

“Now, now, my beloved,” he said soothingly as he stroked her back affectionately. “There’s no need to get all riled up over little details.”

“Little details?” There was no way she could conceal her distress. The Slayer thought that she might hurl. She had slept with Melkor in hope of achieving her objectives. And now, he was saying that Sauron, of all people, would lead his armies into battle. That was unacceptable. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let Sauron lead your armies into battle,” she said with such venom that Morgoth was taken aback.

“Hmm,” began the evil Maia with a sadistic smile on his face. “It is winter and Angband is considered Hell by many, so it looks like my day has come at last.”

Sauron’s comment pushed Buffy over the edge. She lunged at the Necromancer, nearly losing her wrap in the process.

“Calm down, my love,” said Morgoth as he snatched his beloved around the waist before she could reach his first lieutenant. “Let’s be amicable here.”

“I hate that son-of-a-bitch,” she said scornfully, still flailing about in Melkor’s arms. “That asshole’s trying to screw me over!”

“Melisse! Pull yourself together,” reasoned the Lord of Angband. “I have not yet pronounced my declarations. Just relax and we can discuss this rationally.”

Buffy stopped thrashing about. “Fine!” Morgoth released her. Panting, she pushed the hair off her face as she continued to give Sauron a reproachful look.

“Firstly, let me get you something decent to wear, not that I find your ensemble unappealing,” said Melkor in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.” He then left the room.

“Tea?” asked a grinning Sauron as he started filling a cup with the steamy beverage.

The Slayer kept her gaze fixed on the evil Maia as she took a seat in the chair catty-cornered to the couch.

“I swear, I’m not gonna let you steal my thunder,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been busting my ass for three years in that war. My people have died. I won’t let you claim my victory.”

The Necromancer placed the tea cup on the table in front of Buffy.

“You heard Melkor; he has not yet made his final proclamations.” He gave her the once-over before leaning in closer. “How far are you willing to take this charade of yours, Inanna Luinil?” inquired the Maia knowingly. “Do not think that I cannot see through your guise. Your feminine wiles may work on my Lord, but they most certainly don’t work on me!”

WHAM! The Slayer no longer curtailed her anger. She nailed Sauron with a right hook, sending him flying over the other end of the sofa.

Before she could even get out of her seat to continue her assault, she felt Melkor’s hands on her shoulders. “Melisse!” he chastised. “There’s no need for violence.”

Sauron got unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “Unprovoked!” he said angrily. “I gave her no motive whatsoever to attack me, Lord. The Lady’s unstable.”

Buffy scowled at the evil Maia.

“Come now, Sauron,” began the Lord of Angband. “Surely you know that Melisse has been on edge lately.”

“But… ” protested the evil Maia before Morgoth interrupted him.

“Give us a few minutes,” instructed Melkor. “I’d like to speak with my beloved alone.” The Necromancer nodded his head and left the chamber rubbing his jaw. The Vala then turned to Buffy. “Put this on, my darling.” He placed a black robe into her hand. As Morgoth took a seat on the couch, the Slayer let the sheet fall to the floor before pulling on the robe. “Come sit next to me and drink your tea before it gets cold,” he added as he patted the cushion beside him.

“I can’t stand him,” she groaned, plopping down next to the Lord of Angband. “And he did provoke me!”

“That no longer matters,” he said before taking a sip of tea. Buffy did the same, hoping that it would help calm her nerves.

“Why did you say that Sauron’s gonna lead the armies?” she queried in a small voice.

“I thought it might come to this,” he answered, placing the cup back on its saucer with a clink. Melkor leaned back and shifted his eyes to Buffy. “I do not want you to leave my fortress, Melisse.”

“Why?”

“I want you to stay here with me. Let Sauron deal with the business of warfare,” he replied with a wave of his hand.

“There’s no way I’m staying,” she countered with resolve. “I want to see this thing through to the end. I have to. It’s my destiny.”

“Pfft,” he sounded. “Your destiny is to bring forth another heir for me.” Buffy could feel the blood draining from her face. “Surely, you don’t expect me to execute my firstborn without having another to take her place.” He smiled. “I’m afraid that you cannot leave until you produce an heir.”

“After the war,” she quickly suggested. “As soon as I’ve defeated Illyria, I’ll come back, and then we’ll have a baby.”

That made Morgoth laugh. “And I’m to believe you! I think not!”

“I swear,” implored the Slayer. “I won’t break my word.”

Melkor surveyed her very closely for several minutes before he spoke again. “Pick up the scroll, Melisse.” He pointed to the rolled up yellow parchment on the table next to the tea set. She did. “I am willing to reconsider my position as long as you sign that covenant.”

Buffy unrolled the scroll and glanced at the document. It was written in the Valinorean script.

“You want me to sign this?” she queried. He nodded his head.

“If and only if, you sign that, will I allow you to go back to the East and continue warring. I want a child, Melisse. Perhaps a son this time. I’ve given much thought to what went wrong with Illyria. I shan’t make the same mistake twice.”

“So, all I have to do is sign this and I can go.”

“Simply put, but yes. Sign it and you can leave this very day, although I would prefer it if you stayed longer. But you must come back to me after you’ve achieved your victory,” declared Morgoth.

Buffy was so eager to return to the East, that she didn’t question the instrument before her.

“Okay, where do I sign?” She eyed the scroll and at the very bottom of the document there was a place for her signature as well as others for three witnesses.

“Sauron!” Melkor shouted. A moment later, the door to the sitting room swung open and Sauron entered with the demons, Ohton and Vocah. “Melisse has agreed to sign the covenant,” he said with a smile. “You all need to witness her signature.”

“I need something to write with,” said the Slayer as she smoothed the parchment out on the table.

Sauron handed Morgoth the knife that hung from his hip. The Vala took the weapon before saying, “You sign using your blood, my sweet. Your blood will ‘seal the deal’ as they say.” He pricked her finger with the tip of the blade. He picked up the quill from the table top and placed her digit over the top. He then squeezed her finger, filling the hollow shaft with her blood. “And I want you to sign it with your given name.”

“Which one?” she asked with a laugh.

“Maranwë Luinil,” responded the Lord of Angband. It seemed so strange to hear Morgoth call her by that name. As the Slayer signed the parchment with her blood, the others looked on with huge grins on their faces. The witnesses signed with their own special quills, much to the delight of Melkor. “Excellent!” he exclaimed as he rolled the parchment back up.

“So that’s it,” said the Slayer as she sucked on the end of her finger, healing it instantly.

“Indeed!” answered the Vala. “I decree that Melisse shall lead my forces into battle.” He turned to Sauron. “You are to fight alongside my beloved. See to it that no harm befalls her or you shall pay dearly. Do not let her leave your sight, not even for a minute. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” replied the evil Maia with a quick nod of his head.

“Ready the men,” he instructed. “For I deem that Melisse will want to depart my Halls as quickly as it can be arranged.”

Sauron nodded again before leaving the chamber with his two comrades. Melkor pulled Buffy into his arms. He was ecstatic that she had signed the covenant. That guaranteed that she would return to him.

“Oh, wait a sec,” said Buffy as she pulled out of the embrace. “I’ve got to tell Sauron something very important.” She dashed out of the room and caught up with the Necromancer on the spiral staircase. “Sauron!” she called. Her voice echoed against the stone walls.

He stopped in his tracks and faced her. “What is it, Inanna?” he asked, the annoyance in his voice was evident.

“Mark all your men with a Red Cross… ”

The evil Maia looked at her with furrowed eyebrows before climbing up a few steps so that they were at eye level.

“What is that nonsense?”

“If you don’t mark them with my symbol, my people will kill them. It’s for their own safety. Understand?” she said with a straight-face.

Sauron looked at her for a moment. The expression on his face softened. “As you wish. We’ll be ready to go in thirty minutes. I’m most eager to bring this ordeal to an end… Let us put aside our differences and call a truce, for a while,” continued the Necromancer with a small smile. “We must work together for the betterment of the world.”

That last sentence stunned the Slayer, but she did not show it.

“Agreed,” she answered. She then turned, a triumphant smile on her face, as she climbed back up the stairway. She was back on track; everything was going according to plan.

As Sauron gloatingly descended the staircase, the smile widened on his face as well. All was going according to his and Melkor’s plan.