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Once, a long time ago, a very young Paarthurnax would have been proud to have maidens fulfil her wishes. As a juvenile she'd been a vain creature, far different to the wolfess she'd become, but as she aged she came to realise that it was wrong to consider herself better than the subordinates. She decided that slavery was cruel and unnecessary, learned to appreciate her freedom. So when Xerxes presented to her the young ladies who were to be her slaves, Paarthurnax felt herself bristle.

She did not respond with words, though her copper eyes blazed with frustration and pity for the she-wolves who blinked timidly in her direction. "I cannot accept," the crimson sunflower mustered, newfound strength in her voice. She adored her father, loved him now as wholly as she always did, but even as a Princess of Samarkand she had disagreed with many of his practices. "I had no one to protect me when Sahrotaar forced me to flee," Paarthurnax reminded her irritated sire, tail lashing a t her pale hooks as she considered how to take her flaring irritation. "I am a woman grown, and he respects my independence. This is different from Samarkand, yes, but it does not pain me to live this way. I welcome it. I am content with the way things are." Paarthurnax straightened then, trying hard to ignore the little voice in head had that whispered, are you?