He is ruined for the world around them, seeing only his broken imprint hung against a tree for support, the fur around them scattered by ripping bites, the blood splattered where an assailant had shaken blood from himself. His heart hammered in his ears as he spoke, as he swore to make right whatever he could on her behalf. It broke his heart to see her this way, to see her extinguished when she had only just started to shine. Even the faintest spark could be kindled, and he seeks it out in her--
Only to find it when she finally acknowledges his presence, that he is there with her. He, tender and philosophical as he was, could not grasp how it could not have been his fault. He moves swiftly towards her as she comes to him, jolting to a stop so he could catch her leaning weight. He stands like a statue, letting her rest and aching in his breast that he had not been there for her.
The words that come after she had begun to tremble sound foreign in his ears, but his mind processes them, translates them from what she knew herself. “I He cannot have what is not yours to give. Your soul is mine as mine is yours. I will not let him take it, not now. If you had loved him, had wanted him, I would have bowed to his preference in your heart-- but I feel your pain and I know your fear. I will let him have no more of you. Not one more thought or drop of blood.”
“I will take you to the healer. We will take it slow.” It is more dominance than he had ever showed another, more demand and command than he had ever given or acted upon. “He will be hunted. Whether by me or Taviora, I care not. He will not succeed without repercussion.”