I fought, I lost, and I became a spoil of war, a prize. I fell beneath the blade of a God. But he didn't strike me down. Instead he took me as a pet, chained me to the side of his throne and left me there. All I wanted was attention, affection. Something from this man.
But I got NOTHING. I was left to watch him give attention to others, go out for wars. He cast me aside. So I broke free of my chains and ran. I was long gone by the time he found out. But I could still feel his rage. So I broke the collar he had put on me as a claim. I was no longer his. A prize no longer.
Yet I still wanted to feel that anger. So I started a campaign of wars and fights, and I never once lost. Until he found me again. But this time, after screaming, shouting and slamming my fists into his chest, he finally understood why I escaped. He promised he would change. But I wouldn't become his again without a fight and a proper, loving claim. And so I wait.