Lord Tybalt Toyne's Guest Rooms

The injured Lord Toyne is wheeled into his rooms after being carried up the flights of steps in the Red Keep. Clean sheets are put on his bed before he is deposited upon it, though the crackling of his flesh and blisters quickly stained them.

A servant was sent to fetch the Grand Maester.

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After securing Nenyan in his place at the Dragon Pit, and making her way back to the Red Keep, Elseyris made her way to Lord Toyne's rooms, after learning that the Grand Maester was already there. She was limping slightly from a scrape on her knee, incurred during her attempt to rescue Tybalt.

She had mostly stopped crying, but her breathing was still spiking occasionally into panicked sobs, and her face was raw from the tears.

She knocked on the door to the guest rooms, bowing her head in shame at the mess she had created, but desperate to still try to help.

She slipped in quietly, holding the door for the Grand Maester.

Once he was inside, she sat in a chair near the bedside, watching them all anxiously. She wasn't even sure what to say or do, but she knew she couldn't leave Tybalt like this. Wracked with guilt, she prayed silently, as the maesters worked.

Mother, in your mercy, let him recover from this. Don't let his life be ruined forever. If that cannot be, then Stranger, let him go with you in peace.

Lord Toyne's clothes were cut from him, tweezers used to pull the charred pieces of clothing from his charred flesh to prevent infection. A balm was places on his face and torso, before the injured areas were wrapped in gauze, which had to be changed every few hours. Throughout the entire experience, Tybalt awoke only once to scream in pain, before the Grand Maester forced milk of the poppy down his throat with a funnel and the young man drifted off into a horrid slumber.

The gauze on his hand almost instantly became soaked in a pale yellowish liquid as the second degree burns beneath blistered and oozed through the dressing. Tybalt did not awake, earning some temporary reprieve from his unbearable pain thanks to the milk of the poppy. He shivered violently, as if he had been stranded North of the Wall for a month rather than engulfed in flames.

As Elseyris found, despite the tall tales of knights, killing a man was no simple task. Perhaps Tybalt would have danced once more without a care in the world, with some quip and jest when someone felt the need to remind him of the horrendous scars on his face, but we will never know. It took 3 full minutes before he stopped murmuring in his sleep and fell completely unconscious from oxygen deprivation, the young woman pressing the feather-stuffed pillow down tightly against his face, leaning upon him with her full body weight. It took 6 minutes before he died, the smell of his bowels voiding serving as evidence; the last of the Toynes slain by the daughter of the man that had been responsible for the death of the rest of his line. He had said life was his adventure and his adventure had come to a premature end.