She's ready for the blow, bracing for it. The instant he moves, she's already jumping, rolling, on her feet and moving again for the second blow. Of course he's not going to take this lying down. She is [i]his property[/i], she is acting out, and now he is taking the only action he can to get his property back under control. Simple reason, and the very fact that you're objecting is why he needs to be in control. She's ready for that.

She isn't ready for the wail. Isn't ready for that lonely note to pierce her heart, almost make her hesitate. She wasn't prepared for causing her father pain because it's a very simple thing to tell yourself that your father is hot garbage, to tell yourself that you want him out of your life. It's entirely another to see someone you once cared for cry, hear that voice break in front of your very eyes.

How many times had she heard that voice as a fresh creation? Admired the range Molech put his voice through, how it swelled and shifted to fit the occasion--the bombastic welcome of an emperor to his visitors, the cajoling friend of the war prince to his generals, the demanding bark of the tactician. How many times had she trained, stayed up for weeks? All so that when the time came to show it off, finished a kata, a drill, an exercise, trembling with the effort of perfection, she could dream that maybe there was a voice just for her? Approval? Warmth? A quiet "well done?" "I am proud of you?"

She ducks, feels the wind of one sledgehammer arm passing above her, feels the heat as a pile of dead trees catches the blow and explodes into splinters.

How many times had she been met with disappointment? Nothing but a cold gaze, a nod of acknowledgement, of finally almost attaining the level he'd expected her to possess from the beginning? Beauty, grace, perfection, silence. Now that you're almost where you should have been a year ago, let's move on to something more your speed?

Or worse: How many times had there been a glare, a quiet scoff, a cold notice that she's still not good enough? How many "I know you can do better?" How many times where she's sure she's done every movement to perfection, and yet there is still more to be improved on?

How many times has he nodded in satisfaction and announced that she's now ready for the real thing, and motioned for the cage doors to be opened, ordered the guards to prod her trembling victims into the arena?

How many times has she heard "I know what will properly motivate you"? How many stolen faces? How many destroyed lives? How many exiled or executed comrades?

An overhand blow, a quick sidestep. A crater in the ground, crushed bodies, a silvery spiral of splintered weapons.

How many times has she actually heard that voice be kind to her? No, not even that--how many times has he asked for her opinion? How many times has he been there for her when she needed him to be? How many times has he [i]talked[/i] to her without the need to give orders, just for the sake of talking?

Surely something like that would shine out in memory like a diamond in a pile of coal. So how come she can't remember him ever doing so?

Next to the bonfire of love, a familiar ember of anger rears its head.

"[i]You[/i] broke me, Liu Ban!"

The next time Liu Ban rears up for a double-overhand strike, Alexa's picked her spot well. The fists come down, she rolls to the side, and when the fists come up, half a dozen abandoned swords stay lodged in Liu Ban's flesh.

"You told me that I could never be more than you created me to be! That my only value lay in fulfilling that purpose, in obeying you!"

On her next roll, she kicks up a glaive just in time for Liu Ban's next swipe, and watches it impale through his palm.

"You stole my [i]life,[/i] Liu Ban! You told me that I was nothing! Nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded!"

She darts towards the gap between his legs, snatching a knife from a fallen body as she does.

"My friends didn't break me, Liu Ban! They only showed me how a family [i]really[/i] treats each other!"

She's between his legs and jams the knife across one sinewy hamstring. Even with healing, even with all the bioengineering of the ancients, the knee buckles, its muscles cut.

"They showed me your lies, Liu Ban! They didn't break me--they showed me how to [i]fix[/i] myself!"

The second the leg hits the ground, she's climbing the scaly back and dodging the swipes to grab her or brush her off.

"And now that I know that, you will [i]never[/i] break me again! I'll fix myself over and over, as many times as it takes!"

One awkward swipe nearly knocks her loose, and it's only by plunging the dagger into his flesh like a piton that she stays on his back.
 
Panting, she gasps out, "You had [i]so many chances[/i] to have a daughter. But you never wanted one, did you? You only ever wanted someone too weak and dependent on you to ever leave. You only wanted a slave.

"And you'll never have me again."

[Alexa's first hope-empowered roll is a 13 on Overcome.]