Her skirts are muddied from her flight to Frerin's side, blood seeping into the fabric where they press together. Its a poor substitute for the agony she can see etched into his features or the way he trembles against her.

Mahal he feels so small against her, shoulders too broad and unfilled, limbs too long like a foal growing into it's racing legs. How could he have gone to battle and expected to live, how grateful she is that he did.

There had been times when she woke up screaming in to the silence of their home, feeling dread coil in her belly and wondering if she would be the only one left. If her small shoulders would bear the weight of a once great kingdom. Those nights she hadn't gotten much more sleep, and Dís doesn't think she'll be getting much sleep any soon.

He winces and she tries not to flinch away, arm soft about his waist as they walk the suddenly too far length to their home.

"Hush now," It's a low murmur, thick with tears and crumbling at the edges. "Lets get you patched up, but don't you dare apologize, I shan't hear it."