this is a portrait of a tortured you and i

The pounding of his heart, the fear and aggression that courses with the added blood flow as it leaves his body tremble at the excess. Orange eyes flickering at the shadows that dance within the den, every movement causing the hairs to bristle along his back. The echoes of her name from his lips seems to tease him with silence. Ragged breathes begin to form as his mind begins to question reality from fiction. The low build of a growl burns his throat at the harshness of what escapes from his lips. Flashes of what had occurred seem to burn in his eyes as the orange seems to taint and darken, a taste of the monster that he keeps hidden, as it seems to inch closer and closer and closer to the surface. Each breath giving life to the past, every heart beat giving a voice to those demons in his head. As they mock and laugh at his losses, of how she fought and died just like Orra had.

Then a sound.

Fangs glisten in the moonlight, as his head is jerked upon the entrance, a vicious growl rolling like waves from within. Saliva drips like poison. That is until the sight that meets him seems to silence everything. Daenerys. Orange eyes lock onto those warm and rich mahogany ones. So absorbed in her stare and the worry that meets his eyes that he forgets for a moment. One second she is there and then she is here with him, as her chest meets his and he wallows in the warmth that her contact gives. Loudly does he exhale, tucking his muzzle to hang over her shoulder, as if embracing her, holding onto as if she'll disappear. With each breath they give little by little does his fear recede. Clinging to this silver queen, his silver queen. At his name that is whispered from her lips at his ear, his body shudders for another reason. She was safe, she was here. It wasn't real. The tension that had his body so wound up seems to leave him in a heavy exhale as he clings further more to her, as if he could somehow join himself to her to prevent anything from happening to her. At her question he feels her start to detach and for a second he wants to deny it, wants to refuse the distance she is putting between them. As orange eyes catch sight of her, it is then he remembers what her touch seemed to replace, for upon that silver coat was a stark contrast of red. It had been real, he had come back and he once again wanted the one he cared for.

Lips are quick to rise, flashing deadly fangs as his face seems to transform into that monster that had rightly earned those marks, the same one that had killed before and would kill again to the one that harmed her. "He hurt you.." His words are almost lost in the growl that lingers. "I'm sorry.. so sorry.. I'll kill him." Words are rushed and lost in the savage tone. "I'll fix this. I'll kill him again. He hurt you." A brief moment in clarity as orange eyes looks at her with such an underlying sadness that a sheen appears upon them. As he blinks rapidly while looking her over, a choked half sob half snarl before he once more snaps. "I won't let him take you too." Despite the vicious reactions of his body does he gently reach out to run his muzzle along her chest, smearing the blood upon his face. Holding his breath at the contact afraid to smell the pain the wound had inflicted. Before he moves towards the entrance. "Where is he? We fell, I thought I killed him. I will make sure to take his head once more." The last of his words are said with such calmness and steel, it is alarming. This is the Jericho many feared. The one who had no trouble in taking a life, where killing was easy as breathing. And this was one breath he was relish once again. "He took Orra, he will not have you." He pauses, glancing out into the woods seeking his ghostly form.

He should have known that he past was still present, should have taken better care and not attached himself to her. Now look at what he had done, this was all his fault. Daenerys was the first he had come to care about since Orra, in such a different way. Perhaps it is his ineptness that caused this. He had never imagined having someone like her in his life and he had been relaxed and now his past had come and torn into his future much like it had so long ago. Everyone he has cared for has either died or suffered unimaginable pain by his hands or by another. He cannot bare to look at her, to see the disgust, the hate, she must feel at knowing this was all his fault, that he had endangered her and her children by coming here and caring for them. This is why emotions were better left absent, for this pain is far worse than anything he has endured.

As he stands at the entrance his body practically radiating the promise of death and destruction, as the hairs along his spine seem to rise and fall with each breath, allowing his pain and rage to grow and fester with each precious second that passes. "Please forgive me.." He pauses, momentarily distracted by a drifting shadow before he continues, "I will make him suffer for harming what I care for..." It is the first time he has admitted out loud at the changing of his feelings yet it's meaning is haunted by the harm that has come to the one he cares for. But he should be use to the taint, for everything he touches fails in his presence. Why would this be any different? As he moves to step out into the night, to hunt, to kill, to save.

Jericho

All of the laws I've broken, loves that I've sacrificed