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She loathes it. It and not him, because it is a thing and not a person with feelings and thoughts and desires at all. So she loathes it, when she understands it's there and what it is and how much it has ruined her life.

It is her sin, which she did not commit but will have to atone for, and it's the mark she'll carry, engraved in her soiled blood and her cursed flesh. She loathes it. She loathes it enough to understand why people cower and stay away.

And he knows. He who is old and wise and heartbroken, but certainly not the last. He curls within the depths of her soul, far away from her warm heart, and accepts the frozen shards of thought she sends his way, when something makes her think of him. She does not think of him on her own.

But it's alright, in the end, because she is his child, and it's not him that has ruined her life. It was humans with their hatred and their irrational fears, and he will protect her from harm, even if she doesn't know it. Doesn't appreciate it. Because she's his precious child, and once he removes the taint of human sorrow in her heart, she will be free.