Tithe had been asked to watch over the prisoner, and watch as they healed her back to health. When the words first his him, he needed to lean back from the concept, his face otherwise expressionless save for the darkening of his eyes. As swiftly as he could, he recoiled into himself. Rebuilding the walls that had once protected him, piece by piece, reforging the fragments that had been shattered when Daenerys had first cut through his armor to hurt him. For the first time since his fall he donned his armor again and pulled the visor down once more.

Still as a soldier at attention, he watched the entrance to the den where she stayed. For the most part she did not move, nor come to the mouth of the hole. He did not have to worry about hearing the voice with which she spoke. Effort was needed to fight his own revulsion at the thought of hearing that voice. Still, nothing crossed his smooth facade. The first time he heard her move within the cave, he snapped to attention. Eyes narrowed just a hair before opening again. As she moved, he remained silent, battling with himself over what to do. He had been sworn to protect. She had nearly disemboweled him.

Just her nose poked out. Once more he had to fight violent urges. Breathing deep, he got to his feet and stepped within her sight, shaking the snow off his pelt. Don’t move. He commanded, his voice with no emotion or inflection in its smooth tones. Iron eyes took a swift glance at her and he chuffed. Turning to the side for a second, he scraped up some snow in his large paw and slid it to her. With another glance at the swollen and puckered paw, he looked back pointedly at the snow. That might help.

Now he sat in front of her, just out of her reach. Eyes calculating. Who are you? There was no mistaking who he was, the one she had attacked so gleefully. Now he sat, just out of her reach, and very clearly with every possible upper hand. In the event of an attack, he would not hesitate to defend himself.