Stay your pretty eyes on course...

At Gany's bristling and his intensive words, Ultyr blinked with surprise. Tilting his head one way and leaning back, still trying to read the boy and having the hardest time of it. Praise? Ulyr had thought he had been painted as some dire beast that razed their home and made him out to be some demonic figure of the Morningstar lore.

Ganymede then laid it out bare. The emotions oozing from his eyes like a wellspring held back. The voice rose in pitch with the anxiety and anger mixed. He was vulnerable before Ultyr, genuine.

Ultyr was silent for a moment, still unable to trust if Gany meant what he said. His brows subtly furrowed as he thought. His cinder eyes sought to grasp the truth. He softly reached his paw out to place it on top of the boy's.

He knew the ways of his father and the company he kept. Passing slaves amongst the lesser men was a common practice. Not even Ultyr could keep his own men from doing until he claimed a slave for himself.

"Do you mean to tell me... That you would choose me if you had the chance?" Ultyr asked in a half-whispered tone, a crack breaking the sentence. No one wanted him. No one wanted to worship him. No one wanted to lay with him. No one wanted to befriend him. No one wanted to serve him. No one got what they wanted... Least of all Ultyr. He was a god, he couldn't turn away from that! A god, a prince, and an heir had responsibilities and duties. The wants of the flesh were simply that, nothing deeper. But... This...

"But asking was useless, weak... Servants make requests. You only ask if you want to be denied." Ultyr finally responded. His deep seeded teaching and warped mindset at the full front. This was his reality.