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In all that had happened, there hadn't been time to think. Hvergelmir had scooped Hyperborea up by her clothes and dragged her bodily away from the conflict, out of danger, teleporting them to the first place she thought of. Times Circle Fountain -- one of her usual meeting places with Babylon. She associated it with him, with safety and friendship. It was a relief not to feel any Chaotic auras in the area when they'd arrived.

Probably because they were all at that battle, she thought. But the point is, we're safe now. We wouldn't be much use to ourselves or anyone else, as we are.

What Hvergelmir wanted most was to fall apart. She wanted to sit in the fountain and cry -- or, more likely, to go to her Wonder and get away from everything for a while, to work on her weaving until the rhythmic quiet of the loom settled her mind and her heart down once more.

She had the luxury of neither of these things. Hyperborea needed someone right now. She was so much younger than Hvergelmir was, so inexperienced still. Even with Hvergelmir's efforts to push her in Thraen's direction, she often seemed worryingly alone.

And right now, she was hurting herself.

Hvergelmir slid off of Eikthyrnir's back and hurried over to where Hyperborea had thrown herself, raging against the brickwork. Hvergelmir tried to grab at Hyperborea's hands, pulling her away from breaking her knuckles open against unyielding stone.

"This is not your fault," she said emphatically, staring at Hyperborea in hopes of trying to calm her down. "Listen to me -- you didn't do this. You did everything you could -- but it's not your fault that you can't solve all the problems of the world. No one can."

Hvergelmir wrapped her arms around Hyperborea, trying to pull her close. She wished, more than anything, that it was possible to soak all the pain out of the teenager just by holding on to her, to take her burdens off of such young shoulders and carry them for her. She wished there was a way out of this for someone like Hyperborea, someone who never should've had to grow up so fast or so hideously.

There wasn't. All Hvergelmir could do was be with her through it.

"No. No, sweetheart, no. Something horrible happened today, and I'm sorry for that. You tried to help, and it didn't work out -- and that hurts. But that doesn't make you a failure, Hyperborea." She shook her head, hearing the echo of another one of the lessons Carmine had once imparted to her. "You're not a failure. You're just a person who failed at something." Hvergelmir smiled into Hyperborea's shoulder. "I don't believe people are ever failures."

Hvergelmir held Hyperborea as she wept, powerless to do anything else. It was a difficult thing, to offer comfort to those who mourned. There was nothing at all that anyone could do to ease the pain of someone who'd lost someone dear to them -- and now Hvergelmir understood why the Saturn squire's corruption was striking such a deep blow in Hyperborea's heart.

Her parents. She'd lost her family.

"Oh, my poor, brave sister," she intoned quietly, stroking her fingers over Hyperborea's pale hair. "You have nothing at all to be sorry to me for. It's alright. It's okay. You've had a hard time, haven't you? Tell me what happened."

There were some tragedies for which there were no words.

What reassurance could you give to a child who would grow up with no parents, alone and frightened in a world that was going to try to kill them? What soft words had the power to raise the dead, give them life, offer back stolen peace? What could possibly even such a horribly imbalanced scale?

Sometimes you said nothing because there was nothing that could possibly be said that would ever be good enough.

So Hvergelmir didn't tell her it would be okay, or that it would get better. She didn't try to cheer Hyperborea up. She just stood there, holding the younger girl in her arms, and said, "Oh, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry."

She held the Cosmos squire as she cried, fingers rubbing soothing circles against her back. "You've been struggling with this all by yourself, haven't you? That must have been so hard."

Hvergelmir nodded, smoothing out Hyperborea's hair and tucking it behind her ears as the other girl stepped back. "Of course -- you need to get back safe and sound. Please be safe -- and stay in touch. I'm always here if you need anything."

It was hard to just let Hyperborea leave, when there was so much unresolved -- but she was right. It was late, and she had to get back. Hvergelmir knew all too well how hard it was to keep your civilian life together when people kept asking questions about where you were at night.

Once the other knight had disappeared out of sight, Hvergelmir pulled herself together, wiped her face, and left. It hadn't been a successful night.

Tonight, it would be hard to sleep.