His next punch was already readied. His wits aren't fast enough to stop it - but there's a moment of dawning realization as what remains of his rattled brain processes this.
The punch cracks the wall next to her, missing by a fraction of an inch, and then the stone bear drops to his knees, lowering his head. Growls give way to what words he can manage, and those only because her identity is so ingrained as to be habit.
"My liege."
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