Alice was slightly relieved when Vic relented, burly arms wrapping around her. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but it was comforting. She relaxed slightly in his warmth and scent, closing her eyes and leaning her face into his shoulder. She just stayed like that as he held her, not thinking about anything at all. His shirt came away slightly wet from her tears. She nodded slowly at his suggestion, fingertips tracing her wound again. A battlescar. Marring her pale skin, that she'd been instructed to protect - for marriage, her father had said. She had to look beautiful, to entrance the highest stature of man. Yet here she was, amongst the lowest. She shook her head at his question.

Alice blinked as he wiped at her wound with the wet fabric, wincing as he continued on. It stung, but it cleaned the wound - and it was surprisingly caring of him. She hadn't expected such a thing from Victor (although it was still a little bit gross). She watched him as he took down extra bedding, quiet as a mouse as she sat on the edge of the bed. As he became comfortable next to her, she swung her legs back up again and sighed softly. Then she wriggled herself down until she was lying down again, on her side and facing him. This was... a strange arrangement. A man in her room. She'd thought that the first time this happened, it would be on her wedding night. She used to dream about some handsome prince - perhaps from France, or Germany - sweeping her off her feet at the wedding altar. How silly she'd been.

But perhaps not all princes came with titles, or fine manners. Being a prince wasn't only about that.

She stared at him in the dark for a few moments, unsure of what to say now. This was new for her, after all.