Death before unfitness

Within mere moments of the girl appearing, the subtle shift in the Warlord's demeanour betrayed the love he held in his heart for his family. The edge in his posture lessened, and a small glimmer of warmth appeared in his brilliant sapphire eyes. The titanic brute was quick to close the distance between himself and his shy daughter, stooping to gently nuzzle and place a kiss against the round curve of her cheek. The servant cut his gaze away from the tender moment, feeling sudden shame in observing the short, private moment of greeting between a father and his daughter. He fixed his attention instead on a tuft of grass between his paws, waiting for the conversation to pick back up. “Ophelia, this is Satoru. Satoru, this is Princess Ophelia Fatalis. My daughter, and a wolf you will treat with dignity and respect” there was a hint of a threat in the low, rumbling cadence of his voice, which was not lost on the dappled male. He knew full well what would happen if he overstepped, and was quite keen to keep all of his skin attached. He dipped his head low, acknowledging the princess' new control over his movements and daily life. "Of course, Warlord-sama," he murmured contritely, keeping his gaze fixed on the man's ivory dipped toes. “Ophelia, Satoru is going to work with you over the next little while, to offer you companionship, and support your training.” this time the obsidian brute spoke to his daughter, it was evident in the softer tones of his voice.

There was a moment of silence, where the shifting of weight rustled the grass. Sea foam eyes drifted towards the slate grey princess, slowly tracking from her dove hued paws and up her limbs until he was gazing through thick lashes at the hesitation that was plain upon her features. Tapered skull remained tipped down towards the ground, demure and proper as any slave ought to be. Readopting the old habits came with all the ease of shrugging on an old cloak, the subtle shifts of posture and stance settling into his bones and muscles with practiced ease over the months he'd spent captive. Finally, he could see the girl's lips twitch as she found the right words. "Oh..thank you." she said simply.

Auds flat against his skull, dark banner half tucked between inky thighs, the man took a short step closer to the girl. "I am yours to command, Ophelia-chan. It is an honour to serve you." he purred gently. Back home, retribution for the diminutive suffix would have rained down swift and brutal, and he knew it. The waifish assassin was testing the boundaries, toeing the line to see how extensive their knowledge of his native tongue and customs might be. He would serve the princess readily, though he would take whatever liberties he could get away with, if only for his own continued amusement.