Tytos, bleeding from a dozen wounds and limping heavily, smiled and pulled his sister into a tight embrace, despite the fact that he was still wearing his bloodied armor and she was still cursing him.
“Shh…” He told her, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Gods, I was so worried. When I heard the dead were in the crypts, I tried to get to you. But - ” His voice broke, and he pulled her in close again. “There were so many. We couldn’t break their ranks. Jaime and I… We tried…”
Tytos couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much fear, much less fear during a battle. The hordes of undead, the crushing despair at losing so many good men, the realization that it may all be for nothing, and the nearly-crippling terror when he’d heard that the crypts had been compromised… It was almost too much to process.
“I’m just glad you’re alive.”
By the seven, she hated being shushed by her half brother, but her desire to continue berating him until they both died was washed away as his arms went around her again. This time, she returned his embrace, careful of the wounds littering his body.
Claryssa had been scared and didn’t know if she would die in that Crypt or live to see the sun rise again. It had been an awful Hellish night. Listening to his tale, she clutched him a little more tight, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I’m glad you’re alive, too, brother.” She whispered into his shoulder before lifting her head to kiss his cheek. Her hands moved to unbuckle his armor as she pulled away slightly so she could see. His limping had not gone unnoticed by the girl, or the scent of fresh blood wafting up into her nose.
“You’re injured, Tytos, come, sit down and let me help clean you up. The Maester is overwhelmed, let me see if I can do something about you while we wait.”
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