[Mm. It would be wrong to say he doesn't understand it, for he does. It is not a fantasy he dwells on nowadays, but when he was younger, oh, there were dreams of having power. Not of magic, but sheer power: the ability to do and say whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted— shaping the world to suit him, indulging in hedonistic desires or weathervane whims . . . he never understood those magisters who complained of boredom. He and Danarius were alike in that. There is such a world of possibility at their fingertips, he would scoff, and Fenris would silently nod his agreement. And yet they are limited— not even like children, for at least a child has an imagination.

So yes, he understands it. And he won't mention it now, but Fenris takes note of the word loved in the midst of all that, and wonders at its inclusion.]

So was it the power you wished for, or the devotion? There are few who actively wish to become monsters, after all— and you need not if it is purely hypothetical.

[He shrugs after a moment.]

Though I will not say I do not understand the desire for power, either. I will never wish for magic, but . . . wealth is power in this world, and I suspect in yours too. The power to never be beholden to others, or have to compromise yourself for the sake of earning food . . . perhaps it's somewhat the same.