Joffrey and Elowen stayed by the riverside until they were dry enough to return to camp, their injuries no longer bleeding but desperately needing to be tended to, as well as both of them needing Milk of the Poppy to prevent infections and break any fever that might start.

They both knew that if Lord Stark saw his eldest daughter, he would assume that the Prince had attempted to have his way with his Lady Wife, and while it wasn't completely far off from what had happened, it wasn't the truth.

So as they slowly returned to camp, taking advantage of the growing cover of night, Joffrey took Elowen to the Maester's tent, knowing that it would be still empty, safe for the Maesters and knowing that given who Joffrey and Elowen were they were likely to only tell their parents or no one at all, if they requested it.

Despite being married into the Baratheon Family in the eyes of the Old Gods, Elowen was still a Stark in the eyes of the New gods, so she had to sleep the the tent that was set up for the Stark, a tent that was divided by sheets into two bedrooms, one for Lord Eddard and one for his three daughters.

As soon as Elowen and Joffrey entered the Maester's tent, the three men that had been sitting around a table, enjoying a warm beverage and the warmth of the fire that burned inside their tent, turned to the opening flaps with annoyed faces until they saw who entered. 

All three Maesters jumped to their feet and two of them guided the married couple to two of the three chairs that had been in use, instantly starting to look at their wound while the third one ran out of the tent to gather Poppy to make fresh Milk of the Poppy.

Questions such as "How did this happen?" and "Why did you not seek us while you were still bleeding!" Elowen and Joffrey looked at each other across the small table as the Maesters pricked their tender and sore skin with thin silver needles and thread to sow their wound up, making them bleed once more.

Joffrey moved his eyes from Elowen first, mainly as he winced at the pain, and moved them to the fire, his wife's earlier words coming to mind, the fact that they need only be by a burning fire and bleeding for it to be considered a Valyrian Wedding.

Elowen's eyes, that had been watching her husband intently, watched as he looked at the fire, and a slightly somber yet pensive look appeared on his pained features. Her earlier words had been merely a jest thrown in the air, in an attempt to throw Joffrey off any game or cheeky line he might be thinking off then.

But as Elowen watched her husband, she could tell that her words resonated within him in some sort of way, she could see the flames shine in his dark green eyes. As if he was plotting something.

The Maester that who left to gather Poppy to milk had long returned by the time that their wounds were done being sown, and the two Maesters that stayed with the married couple were cleaning the blood that stained their table and skin.

Following the last Maester into the tent was Queen Cersei, who entered the tent as if being blown in by a raging Storm that one would hear about that sunk ships.

The Queen in all her beauty, looked scary as she pushed the flaps of f the tent's entry, her beautiful face was pulled into a worried and angry look, scary enough for the Maesters to snap into a bow almost instantly after hearing her voice.

Joffrey, who respected his mother, at least in public, jumped to the balls of his feet and greeted his mother, in hopes of having her look only at him. Something that didn't happen as Queen Cersei's eyes instantly locked on Elowen and the growling beast beside her.

Elowen attempted, and failed, to hide her torn sleeve and wounded forearm from the Queen. Especially as the Queen stormed directly towards her daughter-by-law, reaching for her wounded arm with a deadly grip, yanking it towards her, making Elowen lean forward onto the table.

With Elowen's just sown and still sore forearm tightly in Cersei's grasp, the Queen all but roared in her face the question that had been on the Maesters' minds but with a maternal angry tone, "What did you do to my son!?"

For the very first time since meeting the Queen, Elowen felt truly frightened. Her eyes widened tremendously and the pain from being gripped by her wounded forearm was worse than when it was cut, almost as painful as being stepped on by a horse.

A pained whimper escaped Elowen, and as natural reflexes would go, she attempted to get her wrist out of the Queen's grip.

The eldest Stark daughter didn't blame the Queen for believing that Elowen was the reason behind the Prince's wounds, it was just a natural thing to believe given that they were both in the Maester's tent being treated for injuries.

Wylla stepped closer to her human, hackles raised and eyes fixed on the Queen, watching her not like a prey but an adversary.

"What did you and your beast do to my son!" The Queen continued to question in a loud and shrill tone, her own green eyes alight with bright and powerful fury.

The Maesters called out to the Queen, telling her to be gentle, careful, because Elowen was also injured but their words fell on deaf ears, especially as the Queen grabbed Elowen's chin, when the auburn-haired girl dared look away to blink tears of pain, and forced her to look at her.

Cersei, despite being warned by the Maesters began to dig her fingers into the sown injury, inflicting more pain, in an attempt to get the answer she craved.

"It's not her fault!"

Prince Joffrey's voice brought his wife's eyes to him, as well as his mother's, a deep blue pair filled with tears and pain that Joffrey hadn't seen before, and a light, almost emerald, pair burning with anger.

"What do you mean?" Cersei questioned, her voice both angry and soft as she spoke to her eldest child while holding his wife's chin.

"It is not Elowen's fault, mother." Joffrey spoke, approaching his mother, although his eyes never left Elowen's pained features, a sight that burned him inside, a sight that was causing him slight anguish but making him feel things that he usually only felt when he inflicted pain on the Whores of the Street of Silk.

"Not hers, nor her beast." Joffrey started, knowing that his next words, that the person he accused would meet the Stranger that evening. "In truth, they saved me..."

"Saved you from what?" Cersei questioned impatiently, digging her fingers deeper into the sown wound and Elowen's chin, making the auburn-haired girl let out a small whimper.