His thoughts were circling back through the events as he watched his daughter. The lord of Casterly Rock nodded solemnly and fetched a quill and ink and the small desktop that he settled across Toria's lap.
"It does you credit to think so quickly of your brothers' care, sweetling." He brushed the hair from her face again and stood to pace across the room.
"I'll look over it for you, of course. Now where in seven hells has that--" A knock on the door signalled the arrival of the Maester who Tyrith looked none too happy to see.
"Fetch our own healer," he ordered a knight. "You? Did they fetch you from the Citadel? Out of my sight. I'll have no one so slow attending my daughter's health."
The man took a look at Tyrith's cold eyes and backed out far more quickly than he'd come. Tyrith himself shut the door, more firmly than was strictly needed.