[D8 EE] The Wounded Dragon

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

Embarrassed by his overreaction, Lorent moved into the study at Alicent’s side, expression apologetic. “If you say the word, I’ll leave, but I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

[Maester Hubert]

Patting the table were Leana’s body had lain, much of it now covered in books and scrolls in disarray, “up you hop, let’s have a look at you.”

[Alicent Feyther]

"I understand... I don't really want to be alone right now." She untied the cloak and put it somewhere safe, wincing a little as she climbed ever so carefully onto the table. The back of her legs still hurt. He hadn't spared there with the lashing. She pushed her hair back behind her ear carefully, as well. She didn't want to show what had happened, but he did need to see the extent of the damage to help.

[Maester Hubert]

Lorent held her good hand as the Maester began his examinations. Hubert tilted her head to the light of a lantern hanging from the low ceiling, studying the bruising and swelling there; he examined her shoulder where Lorent had reseated the joint, the flesh warm and slightly swollen; he carefully lifted her hand and inspected the break above her wrist.

“There doesn’t seem to be too much displacement. I’ll set this first, and then we’ll see what to do about the rest.” The overweight man shuffled to where his kit resides in a shelf, accompanied by a dozen or so other accoutrements of the healing trade, and busied himself gathering what he needed.

[Alicent Feyther]

She nodded a little bit, holding her bad arm and watching what he did. "No, it... could have been worse," she murmured, eyes dropping lower.

[Maester Hubert]

Lorent hissed through his teeth at her comment, and Hubert shot him a look that seemed to warn 'be quiet or leave'. He laid out the bits and pieces he needed, offering her a strip of willow bark, "this part will hurt, so chew this, it will help. I assume you're familiar with willow bark?" It was Hubert's opinion that women had no place in the Citadel, but he encouraged the idea of them having some know-how.

"And hold this," he placed the specially carved wooden splint against her arm, pouring out a small bottle of wine into a bowl with his other hand as he did.

[Alicent Feyther]

She nodded, taking the strip of willow bark and chewing it, trying to get as much benefit as she could out of it before it happened. She held the split firmly, nodding when she was ready.

[Maester Hubert]

Hubert dipped the silk bandage in the wine and carefully bound it around her wrist, "that's not too tight, is it? Let me know now, because it will shrink a little as it dries, and if it's too tight now, your hand will go numb once it's dried."

[Alicent Feyther]

"No... no, it's okay," she replied, watching him wind the bandage. It really wasn't too tight. It hurt, of course, and a few tears escaped between the emotional difficulty of the day and the pain... but her wrist was broken, it would be ridiculous if it didn't hurt.

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

Moving closer, Lorent gently stroked her hair. His anger was boiling just below the surface, but he would fall on his own spear before he showed Alicent his anger; after all she'd been through, he'd take death before frightening her any further.