[D8 EE] The Wounded Dragon

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

The knight reached behind him, seeking her hand, heart in his throat as his imagination ran rampant with what Caim might have done to cause her such pain.

[Maester Hubert]

Hubert shuffled away for a moment, returning with a plain and undyed linen nightshirt. It was clearly one of his own, it would have easily fit three of Alicent within, "put this on," he offered.

[Alicent Feyther]

She squeezed Lorent's hand back and then, letting it go, turned partway toward the Maester, just enough to accept the shirt. "Thank you," she said before slipping the linen shirt over her head. It really was far too big for her, but after the sting of the Myrish Fire, the volume and the coolness of the linen was comforting.

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

"Is it safe to turn around now?" Lorent inquired.

[Alicent Feyther]

"Yes... I'm clothed again," she replied with a wan smile in his direction.

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

Turning, he looked her up and down, smiling gently. "How can you look so beautiful in a plain shirt hanging off you like that?"

[Alicent Feyther]

That brought a smile to her face, despite her red-rimmed eyes, and she took his hand. He'd squeezed hers, so there was no sense being shy about it now. Then she looked toward the Maester. "Is there anything else I need to do?"

[Maester Hubert]

"You may have a little bleeding from the deeper cuts in your back, that's fine. As long as it doesn't swell or start to smell bad. I trust you know the signs of mortifying flesh. The worst of the swelling should go down overnight." Hubert started putting together some ingredients for willow tea.

[Ser Lorent Tyrell]

Her small hand safely enclosed in his, "maester, do you have a room you can spare for her to sleep in tonight?"

[Alicent Feyther]

She nodded. "I know what to look for." She looked toward Lorent, the Hubert. "If not, I can talk to Lysa or Kylie, perhaps..."