A fist of ice closes over her heart.

All this time.

All this time, she'd thought… No, that's not right. She'd [i]hoped.[/i] Hoped, prayed, dreamed, nursed a tiny ember of a idea, even as she'd told the Alcedi of all his sins, that…

It's a dumb idea, really. She hates him. It'd never work. He's behind nearly everything wrong in her life. He created her to be a slave. He's not capable of being a father. Can't make the changes necessary. He's incapable of the self-reflection, the humility, to admit that he'd made mistakes. And even if he did, and even if she forgave him, she could never bring herself to trust him. But still, the idea that maybe, with some time and a whole lot of distance, she might be able to have the family she dreamed of back when she was first created…

Quietly, an ember nursed for two centuries unceremoniously winks out. It's long due, but it still hurts, leaves her cold. He's got to break her heart one last time.

But there was never any way for him to love her. There's no version of reality where he sees her as someone he's wronged, because that would need him to think of her as a person first. He never has, and he never will, because she's [i]never[/i] been more than a tool in his mind. Something to be trained, and molded, and put to a task. If she obeys, then she's simply a tool fulfilling its purpose. If she disobeys, then the tool is broken and should be fixed until it does as its told. And now that the tool is more useful in pieces than whole…

Well, you don't keep a tool past its usefulness, do you?  

She is a dreamer walking the steps of a too-familiar nightmare. She has seen it all, knows the end from the beginning. And yet no matter how she screams, curses, begs, still she is powerless to stop it. Still her body moves, weightless, as it picks through the pile of corpses, discards weapon after weapon, hefts a battleaxe. It's enormous, obviously ceremonial--filigreed to the nines, inlaid with pearl, carved with bas-relief triumphal battles across the head--but the gold-plated edge is still mono-filament sharp. As she sees her reflection gleaming in the gold, sees her doom lifting in front of her, all she can think is:

I should have hugged more people.

It's funny, right? You never think about it. Because there's always time for hugs. Which means hugs can happen sometime later, after everything's calmed down. You'll laugh, you'll embrace, just as soon as you can. And then everything goes to shit again, and you're running again, and you'll laugh and hug later again. Then you lose your arms, and hugs suddenly aren't an option. And then you get new arms, and you're running again, and now your dad wants your body, and you'll never hug people ever again.

The axe lifts, showing off the gleaming arms in the surface of the axehead. 

And she just [i]got[/i] them too. She was looking forward to breaking them in! It's a big adjustment, going from four arms to two. They're a different weight distribution--probably the same bulk, but in a single package. What's that do to her wrestling? She's gonna lose a few techniques, but she could probably figure out a way to compensate with the added power. What do these arms look like properly messy, with dirt and mud and weeds on them? What kind of detail work can she handle? Baking has been problematic before--maybe she'd finally be able to figure out how Dolce cracks eggs with only one hand?

Not if Liu Ban has his way, though. Wants to just plop his ratty-ass beard on her neck, ride her body like a stolen car. 

Brand new dress. Brand new filigree. Brand new gifts! Gifts for her, presents from people she cares about! She wants to show off in them, for once. Wants to enjoy feeling wanted, feeling unique. Wants to find out who wanted her, and why, and find out how it isn't because she's the firstborn of Molech, or the Pallas Rex, or because she looks like her mom. The Coherents, the Alcedi--people who care for her because she's [i]her,[/i] and not because of what she can do or take or kill or protect.

And she wants to care for them, too! Wants to have the opportunity to nurture them, get to know them, find out what makes each one unique! Not because of what they can do, or because she's their older sister and it's her job, but because she chooses to! Because what she wants is important, dammit!

This isn't a new ember of an idea sparking to life. If anything, it's an old one--an unfortunate habit of thought that Molech sought to stamp out wherever he found it. She thought she'd lost it long ago, scorched and gone, but there it is, burning merrily away! Not just burning--practically a raging bonfire, a warming flame of [i]I matter![/i] I don't want to die! Not here, not now, not like this, not ever, because I matter, and I care about me, and you know what, I kind of like me! I like being me, I like who I am, and I want to find out who I look like after today, and after tomorrow, and so on into forever! And none of that happens if I kill myself right now, and I'll be damned before I do it to please my asshole of a father!

And just like that, she's holding an axe. Not looming, not threatening, not having her body wielded against her, not taking aim at her own neck. Just her, holding an axe. 

Gingerly, she moves an arm. The axe goes with it. Tentatively, as if at any moment the spell's going to break, she lowers it, throws it back onto the pile.

And it stays thrown, and she doesn't grab it again, and nobody is more surprised than she is.

She stares at it for perhaps too long.

And when she turns to Liu Ban, it's with a strange sense of wonder in her eyes.

"You know what, Liu Ban? Shove it up your ass. I'll be keeping me, thanks all the same."

[Move Taken: I Am My Own Master.]
[Move Taken: You Have Changed: Hero Destiny Playbook unlocked, Unbroken taken]