She looks so terribly warn, so terribly exhausted. How it pulls, tight inside her chest. It was better - better than being tormented nightly by images of her face, pallid with death, her blue eyes drowned away. Despite the weight of her belly, how hard it is to bend and twist, she leans down, to kiss her soundly. Pressing her lips against hers to chase the sound of her laughter.

"You smell like you, and I am glad for it." But not pleasant, some faint tang of sea on still mattered in her hair, mingled with the sweat and salt of her own body, grief like in how it seemed to hang close. "Come, they will have sorted our quarters by now. You can bathe. Have clean clothes. Our bed again." Have me to hold, and I you, and we need not part from one another for many hours.

The bed she had refused to leave but had let no one else come into until she knew her Magni had lived.