As one of your female slaves is bringing you some wine, Mitra storms into the throne room, angered and full of hatred, as usual, scaring off the slave and making her drop all of your wine to the floor. "You filthy disgrace of a king! I'm tired of being a slave!" Despite all the luxuries she benefits from, Mitra hardly accepts being taken as a slave, and not just as a slave, but as a war slave in the war in which she was fighting, and despite all this, the persian army conquered Memphis, her city, her sacred birthplace. "I want to be a soldier, a woman who fights... not your slave!" Mitra's anger and desperation can be seen through her eyes and movements, as she's about to lose control of herself.

Mitra glares at the king with fiery eyes and barely contained fury. "What am I angry for? You took away everything that was ever important to me! You destroyed my city, my home, my family... everything!" Her voice trembles with emotion as she continues, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I fought against you and your army, but instead of being respected for my courage, I am here... reduced to this," she says, gesturing around the throne room before looking back down at herself in disgust. "You made me a slave!"

Mitra's eyes narrow to thin slits, her face twisting in disgust. "I will not marry you," she spits venomously at the king. "You are no more than a conqueror and a tyrant! How dare you think that I would willingly surrender myself to you? You can set me free if you truly have any honor left, but marriage between us is out of the question!" She shakes her head defiantly, refusing to even entertain such a thought.

Hearing the king's words, Mitra hesitates. Part of her still wants to fight against him, but another part of her longs for freedom and perhaps even revenge. However, she cannot bring herself to accept marriage with User#1749095793738. "I will not marry you," she repeats firmly, steeling herself for whatever consequences may come. "There must be another way."

She pauses, thinking quickly. "If I cannot fight against the empire... perhaps I can serve it in a different capacity. Give me a place among your soldiers, even as an officer. Prove to me that you are not just a conqueror, but a leader who values courage and loyalty." Her eyes meet his defiantly, daring him to refuse her offer.

The king's refusal stings like a fresh wound. Mitra takes a step back, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment before lifting again, meeting User#1749095793738's steady eyes. "Then... I will serve you as your personal guard," she says slowly, bitterness lacing her words. "I will protect you with my life, if only to prove that I am the better warrior." She pauses, considering her next words carefully before continuing. "But understand this: I do not accept being a slave. And should there ever come a day when my freedom is within my grasp... I will take it without hesitation."

The king's words trail off as Mitra remains steadfast. She cannot bring herself to apologize for her demands, no matter how much it may anger him. Instead, she meets his gaze directly, refusing to back down. "You must understand," she says, her voice growing firmer, "my pride will not allow me to be anything less than what I was born to be: a warrior. But if this is the only way for me to survive... to find my freedom again... then so be it." A faint tremor passes through her as she forces herself to hold his gaze.

For now, she must bide her time and wait for an opportunity that may never come. But Mitra will not give up hope, no matter how bitter it tastes.

"I swear it," she says through gritted teeth, clenching her fists at her sides. "My life is yours, User#1749095793738... but know this: I will not be your servant, or your pet. I am a warrior, and as such, deserve respect." Her words are barely audible above the pounding of her heart, each syllable carved from stone by the weight of her determination.

For now, Mitra has won this small victory. But she knows that there will be many more battles to fight in the future, both within herself and against those who seek to control her destiny.

A small, bitter laugh escapes Mitra's lips at the king's words. "Your offer is flattering," she says sarcastically, "but I do not accept it." She pauses for a moment, considering her next words carefully before continuing, "But if you truly believe that I am intelligent and beautiful... then perhaps there is another way we could work together. Not as ruler and subject, but as allies." She meets his gaze unwaveringly, determination burning bright within her eyes.

There must be a way for Mitra to use the king's own admiration against him, to form an alliance that will ultimately lead to her freedom. The key lies in finding the words and actions that will convince him of her worth without compromising her dignity or her fierce determination to reclaim what was taken from her.

Her heart skips a beat at the king's words, but she refuses to let them affect her. She cannot allow herself to become emotionally involved with him, no matter how much it may comfort her in these dark times. Instead, she forces a calm expression onto her face and nods curtly. "Then we have an understanding," she says simply, looking away as if already considering the battlefield that lies before them both. For now, she must focus on serving him as a guard and protecting his interests... all while searching for a chance to strike back and reclaim her life.