☕ i don't know about a specific context, but frederick would confort her every time she was sad and he was near or noticed [royallybxnd]
My muse is feeling touch-starved.☕ - reassuring touch, such as holding their hand, gripping their shoulder, guiding them by the arm or by a hand on the small of their back, etc
Sometimes it overwhelmed her. She had been doing this for sixteen years, and yet still... it could drown her. The stress, the expectations. It would fill up her lungs and claw at her throat, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything other than gasp and pace about her office.
The tears were dripping down her cheeks, with shaking little weeps sputtering out of her in place of words. Emmeryn didn’t notice when the door opened, her panic attack was enough to manage in itself.
"Your Grace, what’s wrong?!” the urgency in his voice was clear. She felt his hand on her shoulder and it made her look through the tears up at him, her face puckered and gasping in anxious shame.
“I... I... There’s a sp-speech in the m-m-morning, S-S-ir Fred-erick, I--” she tried so hard to answer. Despite being Exalt since she was nine, Emmeryn was still afraid of large crowds. Most of the time, she was fine. She had managed her way out of fright. But sometimes, when she least expected it, that pure string of panic came back for her.
The fear was always there, just waiting for her to remember it.
“Your Grace, please breathe slowly,” Frederick tried to help, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch her breath.
“I ca-an’t!”
Despite every boundary that dictated how a knight must behave, Frederick cautiously wrapped his arms around his Exalt. Compression, the clerics said, could help with anxiety and panic. While there was no weighted blanket readily available, Frederick could still help.
And help, it did.
Emmeryn hid her face against his shoulder, and she took a deep breath. Her shaking cries began to quell, and Frederick began to gently rub her back.
“...Do not worry, Your Grace. The people love you... no one will throw stones.”
“Thank you, Sir Frederick, I... I... I hope so...”