Work Text:
You try to lift your arm. But you can only rock it from side to side. Every part of your body has a different percentage of pain pinned to it.
Your arms felt like lead, your toes numb when you wriggled them. Your crotch is on fire, like someone had cut you. You can't rest properly on the bed, because your back can't really take your weight.
"Did I win?" You mutter to a male nurse through swollen cheeks.
"No. You got your arse kicked" He replies. "And your crotch!"
"Did....did my husband see everything?" You ask.
In response, the nurse walks over, wiping the drool away from your mouth.
"Y/N it's me Maekar, your long suffering husband" He delicately wipes your forehead. "Amber really fucked you up. And she's only an amateur! I told you that you weren't ready!"
You try to shuffle up on the headboard. He helps you. "Well, there's always next year" You lean forward with rapid breaths.
He places a sick bowl under your mouth as you cough. You're surprised at how tight your chest feels.
"If you think that I'm letting you do this bollocks next year!....." Your husband furiously clamps his hand over yours, before staring at your face, he sighs, dropping his hand, but pulling his chair closer.
"If and I mean If you still want to take part next year. You'll have to train with Ser Steffon" He advises.
"Yeah?" You croak weakly.
"Yes. Only the best combatants should be training you" Maekar kisses your hand gently, as you try and fail to get some sleep.