[b]Beljani![/b]

Luxury is a chain. 

It comes with no strings. No limits. No questions. When the Kaeri assaulted the Plousious, each of them carried with them some little glory that was yours, as vital to the success of their mission as their spears. Still they are tossing this new ship for precious things that might be acquired for your benefit. A particular gemstone has come in the form of a cookbook and spice rack belonging to the previous captain; captured Alcedi slaves have been put to work preparing the dishes therein and they are [i]truly[/i] exceptional. No matter what else is going on, your maintenance is seen to, as vital as the ship's Engine. 

It is condescending. It is necessary.

Imagine, spending all your life treated as the most spoiled child in the Empire. A pout and a stamp of the foot will bring you a bed inlaid with rubies, with the bedsheets containing beautiful triplets, in the time it takes for the Temple's artisans to assemble the components. Your life is a backdrop of praise and pleasure, indulgences designed to make sure that life in your body is a constant sensory delight. It is not love, not obedience that brings about this excess. It is condescension. The quiet assumption that you are a pathetic child with no willpower of your own, who needs to be bribed with sweeties in order to not kill everyone. Who [i]can[/i] be bribed with sweeties to not kill everyone. Everyone seems to know exactly what your price is and has [i]no[/i] doubt that the price is enough to buy you, body and soul.

And it hurts to know that they were right.

You walked right up to the line on Salib. Your instincts expanded and your consciousness inhabited dozens of bodies at once. You were a swarm, your control passing beyond suggestion and into becoming. You spoke with other people's thoughts and they responded to your instincts, Azura royalty reduced to the wolves in your pack. It was power like most people only dream of, a breathtaking manifestation of Purpose, the violence of the hound and the ant. You had the guidance of Beautiful, the only person who ever understood you, who could wield you as you were meant to be wielded. You had the eye of Artemis. You had a mission, a team you could trust, the power of your birthright... friends. And you gave it all up like a good dog for [i]sweeties[/i]. 

And you can't even say that it wasn't worth it. 

And that's why, even amidst the lap of luxury, everyone knows that you are a lapdog. You withdrew from your destiny of independence, glory and power because the Master of Assassins had you by the tongue and the collar. She had you betray everything that you had and come crawling back to her when she rang Pavlov's bells. The only saving grace, the only thing you can be proud of, is that you recovered Beautiful - although she's useless to the operation until the waters of Lethe fade from her system. 

But what you need right now, more than anything else, is... [i]something[/i]. Some fragment of meaning, some salve for your pride, some knowledge or plan or justification. Something that will let you excuse to yourself the pain that your betrayal caused Bella so you can sink back into your cozy kennel. 

Luckily, it is very hard for people to [i]not[/i] indulge you in your whims. You just need to say the words, twist their minds, and they will obey.