Monterys raised his head sharply as his captive companion entered his cell. She was clearly higher born even than he had expected, to be afforded such a privilege. Suddenly he became painfully aware of how filthy he must appear. What was the point of her invading his territory? Why was she here at all, wish such a power to command the guards at will? Was she here to ridicule him after all? For a fleeting moment he entertained the thought of using her as a leverage. She was so close to him, so dangerously close. It would be a simple matter of timing. He not only hoped, but knew that he could do it. With the festivity and mead stealing the sanity of half the castle, there probably would not be another chance quite like this one. He might even be able to make it out of the dungeon, get a little fresh air before they beat him down. Yes, they would beat him down, for he had no illusions about an actual escape. Not in his condition. The only question was: was he such a man? A man that would not hesitate to harm a lady, good hearted or otherwise, for a breath of freedom?
"I am no lord," he spoke harshly at her before turning his back towards her. "And my wounds have already been tended to, my lady. There is no cause to call for a maester."