[ She has always been patient by nature and having children had made her even more so. If anything had made her a good ruler, she supposed, it was this patience to wait until all was said and done.

That usually she had been too still to ever act on her thoughts, was perhaps her greatest downfall as one, too.

But right now? It seems to be what he needs most. That quiet. That stillness. There is an issue of impropriety, of course. She is a married woman, and he is neither her husband nor soon-to-be wife. He is mostly undressed and these are her chambers and there is not a maid to chaperone them.

And she does the unthinkable, naturally, if anyone was to care: that once he settles himself, she moves beside him. Sweeping her nightgown and loose wrap underneath her as she settles with him. The outside of her leg to his. Sweeping the thick of her long braid over her shoulder out of the way. Then she reaches for that hand, and without gripping tightly, she guides it to her lap. Letting it sit between her own, and begins to brush her fingers back and forth over the back of his knuckles. ]

A friend. [ she repeats. waits. he does not go further and... yes, yes, this is familiar. Grief turned people's tongues thick. It needed prompting to find the truth of what was truly wrong, often enough. ] I will ask you questions, and you need only shake or nod your head for yes and no if you wish.

[ If words fail, they will start small until he can find his way back. ] Did they hurt you?