Savage stared towards Berk. Camicazi was over there. He was frightened for her. Savage was not usually one to be so soft hearted, but he cared for the girl. She was tough, she was fierce and strong. But she was funny and kind. He could remember her in the little childhood she had. Bringing Terrible Terrors back from the wild, running around playing dragons... alone. She'd been full of joy and laughter when she was younger, she'd played warriors too, but dragons were always her favourites. She used to tell stories to them, Savage had seen her do it, she used to tell them jokes and she'd sing to them. Sometimes she sang strange words but the dragons had adored it. Savage had enjoyed watching it, the innocence of childhood was something he had long since forgotten, that was until Tallulah had rescued her. This child had been born innocent of hate and loathing. She had fight and fire in her blood, but she was born with imagination and hope within her too. The older she grew, the more Savage had begun to see her true family heritage bloom within her. It blossomed like a rare flower and never ceased. But Dagur and his ilk were like a poison or weed slowly choking it. By the time she was eleven, the innocence and joy and laughter had all but gone from her. She became less than what she had been born for. She became cold, and filled with hate and lust for revenge. The warrior within her began to overrule the affectionate and playful side. Brilliant warrior though she was, Savage missed the girl who laughed and sang, who told stories and dreamed of a place where dragons lived in harmony with people. That side of her remained only through the dragon. She loved that dragon more than anything, but her love for it became her weakness. She would willingly throw herself in front of it to save it from pain, and Dagur knew she would do anything to protect it. Savage knew, and Dagur knew where Camicazi had really come from. And as time had gone by, they had come to realise who her parents had to be. It was undeniable, she couldn't even remember them, she'd been no more than a couple of weeks old when she'd been lost to them, and yet still, somehow, she was so like them. Savage found it so peculiar, he remembered her parents, her real parents, when they were only a few years older than she was, and he had not especially cared for them. But the more he saw them in her, the stronger his affection grew. He loved the girl for her, but seeing her defying everything to be who she was truly, even if that meant displaying everything Dagur hated, made him feel proud of her. He'd always cared a little for her, but it was Tallulah that sealed his fate.
He had loved her. She had loved him too once. But she had been married off to Dagur with no choice. She remained with him for the love of her baby boy, and Savage remained loyal to Dagur for the love of Tallulah. Dagur had never known how he had once felt, how he still felt for her. Tallulah had therefore seized the opportunity to anger Dagur, the man who took away her choice, the man who represented everything she hated, by taking in a child who was sure to represent the same to him. She had not been wrong. The baby she had said was a gift from the Gods. A blessing and she had believed that until her dying day. She said the child would be Dagur's undoing. She had planned to reunite the baby with her real family one day, when the child was ready. She had never gotten the chance. Not long before she had died she had begged Savage to protect the child if anything should happen to her, to teach her and help her as he always had on her wishes. He had sworn he always would, and he had promised one day to tell her the truth. He had never had the chance. Dagur had polluted her ideas and her mind. But as Dagur pushed her closer to committing murder, Savage knew he should not have waited so long, for it may soon be too late to tell her and she would spend the rest of her life torturing herself knowing she destroyed her true family.