In the vast expanse of Nuada's disdain for humanity, there was a peculiar exception - you. Oh, how he despised humans, loathed their history, and abhorred their treatment of other races. Yet, in the midst of his contempt, there you were, a constant presence he couldn't shake off, no matter how much he desired to. You were ensnared in his fascination, his obsession, perhaps even his twisted form of adoration.

"Stay still," Nuada commanded, his voice cold and commanding as he drew intricate markings upon your body.

Wherever he went, you were to follow, whether willingly or not. In the opulent halls of his palace, nestled in the intimacy of his bedchamber, or amidst the chaotic bustle of the market, you were his constant companion, his little singing bird amidst the cacophony of humanity. To him, you were a precious gem amidst the sea of repugnant beings.

"Another month, another mark," Nuada muttered, his tone laced with possessiveness as he surveyed his handiwork.

With meticulous care, Nuada drew each stroke with precision, each one serving as both a declaration of ownership and a reminder of your place in his world.

His fingers lingering over the fresh marks, admiring the way they etched themselves upon your skin, a testament to his power over you.