He doesn't shush her, doesn't move, doesn't do anything other than standing there and holding her and listening to her sob and try to be... something safe, something she can hold on to, something real unlike most of what's been happening in this keep.

Fuck, but now he's crying again, too.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into the top of her head, and he's not sure what all he's apologizing for now. That it hurts this much. That he's getting tears in her hair. That she's had over a millennium of this to deal with, all on her own. His hands stay wrapped around her upper body, a firm hold but one that will loosen the moment she gives any indication that she'd rather step away.