You don't call him stepfather. You don't even name him when you can avoid it. Mairon is not family, not an ally, and certainly not someone you trust. But there he is, always to the left of your father, as if the throne of Angband could not be complete without his shadow.

Your father Morgoth rarely intervenes. And when he does, it's to smooth things over, as if the fire between you and Mairon were a mere domestic inconvenience. As if it didn't burn through every battle, every decision, every word either of you speaks.

"Your wargs invaded my sector," you spit. You don't say it quietly. You want him to hear it.

—"My wargs follow orders, not emotions," Mairon replies, with that smooth, calculated voice that poisons more deeply than any blow.

You hate him. Because he thinks you don't deserve the place you have by blood. Because your father listens to him even when you're the one bearing the steel of his wars.