Despite what people thought, he loved her. He always had. When he locked her in that white, white room and threw away the key without as much as a backwards glance he was loving her. And he was loving her despite every tease and taunt he expressed in her presence. He couldn't help it much; the way her expression stayed the same no matter what he said was just too fascinating. When he laughed after Larxene slapped her and smiled at the jagged sobbing he could hear from behind the door that she wouldn't let anyone else discover, he loved even her more.
It was twisted but it was his own way of showing he cared. He loved her so, so much that no one else needed to. For anyone to pity or, god-he-didn't-believe-in forbid, befriend her was inexcusable. For anyone to touch her in any way that was even a millimeter less than violent was unforgivable. The only one she needed gentle touches and less-than-innocent caresses from was him.
So if he got a little jealous after that horribly dirty boy came in and tried to sweep her away, you couldn't really blame him. It wasn't his fault at all. But even though he got mad he couldn't help but still love her.
Even when he tied her up and let the thorns bring out that pretty, pretty red blood. It complimented her so nicely; running down her arms and staining that pure white dress she was always wearing. He had always thought white suited her-the color was almost as pure as the girl herself.
He was ready to defend her until his last breath was drawn. Sure he threatened and taunted as usual but it was all a bluff. Because he knew he'd never have to carry any of them out, he relaxed. He was sure that he'd win. He was undefeatable.
The very thought of him losing was…simply impossible.
But when he did, he lost while loving her.
