running from the past

There were any number of reasons for his unyielding possession of Arithari. Reasons that defied conventional understanding. Reasons that transcended even the sharpest of memories. Reasons that defined everything he represented as the God King of Vun Anor. To some of course, his reasons were salacious, abominable, savagely cruel. They were correct, for Elgar'nan himself shared the sentiments. The difference being that those sentiments encouraged his persistence rather than deterring him. There was no obstacle, no means by which to thwart him from what he considered to be his greatest and most precious trophy. 

The bargaining chip made flesh. A temptation wrapped in a love of a parent for their child. Still, he was amazed that even in all of this, Mythal remained stalwart. 

Not even the threat of losing a daughter, however precious she was, would force her to relent to him and it was deliriously maddening. 

Arithari, reflecting much of the spirit of her accursed sire, came out with a flurry of feral anger and desperation. A caged little wolf, with nowhere to go but down swinging would fight to the last. Her resilience was a marvel to him still, something he almost envied were it not for his own recent feat in the reincarnative arts. 

So, in a sense, they were far more alike than he was sure this wriggling hellhound snapping and snarling before him wanted to admit. 

She spit at him, the wad of saliva hitting with suspicious accuracy at an eye. His grip on her faltered slightly but the surprise was fleeting. Stoically he wiped away her slight, his eyes narrowing. In any other moment he might've laughed it off but he was fresh out of patience when it came to his pet. Far too easily he lifted her up and away, hands maneuvering so that he could hold her by the throat while he shoved her unrelenting into the trunk of a neighboring tree with enough force to knock splinters of bark and wood to the forest floor. 

His body was not far behind, as it crowded against hers ensuring she could not slip away. I see you haven't lost that venom since we last met like this, little one. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd held her life in his hands. He pressed his nose to her cheek as he continued to speak, Currently however, I haven't the time or the patience for your daily tantrum. So unless you would prefer to learn your lesson the hard way, I would suggest retracting your claws. He growled, his free hand once tangled in her hair, dug deep trenches into the flesh of the oak beside her, his nails having since grown into formidable blades. I enjoy your company Arithari, for many reasons, but you mistake that for affection at your peril. History will tell you all about the other toys I've tired of over the centuries. I'll break you all the same.