close but no cigar

Raised by the silent slaves and a few vocal tutors, Utlyr was adept at reading their facial expressions. Adept enough to get what he wanted, but not adept enough to know their inner worlds. There was only so much his own mind was capable of projecting.

It amused him: her recoil, her inability to look him in the eye, her desperate exchange of breath, panic, and sudden stillness. The shock of the God-Prince Ultyr paying her any attention seemed to have sent her reeling. Her eyes finally opened and beheld his gaze. The meeting of the eyes never threatened him, He was a god, he was the most powerful champion of all of Archnemes. Not even his shorter father threatened him. She looked away again and he let her pull back for just a moment. For her to look down on herself... and cry?

Impassive the God-Prince watched her tear up, his visage neutral, cold. He measured her reaction and filed it away, for now... he pulled her in. A massive paw against her back, another held up her chin again.

"Look upon the face of your god." He commanded with a rumble. "My father was afraid, he was a small man preparing the world for me. Then, when I was prepared to take it he threw me away, like you. But I am a God, and I will go back one day and take what is mine for what was promised me. For that, I need my most devoted worshippers. You want my father to pay for what he did to you? Good, I promise he will in the most agonizing of punishments. What was done to you, he will receive a thousandfold." The God-Prince Ultyr was not truly after such earthly delights as copulation.