Of the things Y'tajha is expecting in this moment, to be pulled into a sudden embrace is not high on the list— in fact, it is not truly on the list at all. And so, while he will sense no tension from her, there may be the slightest moment of hesitation as the Warrior of Light's eyes widen, as her heart skips a beat or two and her breath catches in her throat. It is all too easy however to allow herself to sink into his hold, her head falling with no prompting at all to rest against his chest, and as her eyes close, the tears slip from her cheeks; protected as her face is from his gaze, and comforted as she is by his hold, it feels safe to shed them. They have, after all, been building into a hard lump at the back of her throat for so long.

His words make her smile even through the saltwater in her eyes, and after a moment she allows her own arms to snake around his waist, not merely accepting the hug but returning it.

(And to hells if it's misinterpreted; she needs this right now.)

"Are you saying you are proud of me for crying, my lord?" A sniff, and then a soft, wet laugh. "Or that you are proud to have witnessed my tears?"