Trophy

Oh how the girl flattered herself. It was cute really, the fact that she had thought this was all done for her, that he had battled and torn his hide all for the pleasures of her name beneath his reign. It was entirely false of course, she had fuelled him to challenge, but the moment Chrysanthe became an enemy it was no longer about her body, nor her mind, or her name. It was no longer about Liberty. He snickered as she would speak, stroking his ego whilst still attempting to stroke her own. Oh how effortless it would be to knock her off her high-horse and into the stagnant mud, but did she deserve it? ?Oh yes, you opened a gateway, but I marched through it entirely alone and I most certainly closed that glass door behind me; everything that has been done has been done by me only, for me only. You did not clobber down the magpie?s stockades, I did,? he would pause for a moment, chuckling as his head would rise from his grooming.

It would sting her as it must; he didn?t care for how hurtful she may have found such words, for regardless he knew she wouldn?t entirely believe them. ?But now that you are here, and now that you are mine, you deserve that growing pride that simmers beneath your skull; stretching so ambitiously beneath the surface of your pretty crown. You may rise as you see fit, but it will not come as easily to you as you seem to be so confident. Alas, you will discover in time,? she was so proud of false achievements, it almost made him painfully nauseous. But no, he would give her her chances, ?This time, I open a door for you. It is your turn now.? He would lean into her breath, to press coral snout against her jowls as a harmless snarl would itch pale lips.