Foot of The Cross

The supposed reign of the lands would arrive, her power emulating, but he would huff and a smile would form on his lips. She stood proud and tall, as though she was the biggest here. But non, no longer was she. While they were the same age, and she a female, he would note her power. Still, he didn't agree with it. Females were meant for brood. He would have his own here, and he would stand by her damnable law. But only until he saw better and otherwise. Eyes veered around and a snort in response rose from the depths of the behemoth's diaphragm.

"Your potential? What are you capable of?" he yearned to know, wanted to be torn into the ever growing significance of the cherub before him. There was something he didn't know that his mind groaned and ached for. He wanted to reach greedy fingers our and take the meaning that spewed from her lips. He wanted to be so blessed and so bathed in the meaning of her strength, "You stand in the presence of a lord, my sweet. A ruler in all due time," he would be a king that ruled with an iron fist, a shepherd to his ever loyal flock. He could see the legion spread before him, and the numbers were beyond counting.