The kiss to his temple brings a satisfied curl to Essek's lips. It's short lived, however, as Verin confesses how afraid he was that he'd lost this--and it is easy to infer that he could so easily have been one of the dead there in Bazzoxan. Unlike Essek, Verin is consecuted. It is a near certainty that his soul would return during Essek's lifetime. But it would be years, and it would be different. It wouldn't be this.

Essek tucks strands of his brother's loose damp hair back behind his ear. He'll brush and braid it for him again after he rests.

"I worried the same," he admits quietly. "From the moment we heard about the attack until I saw you stride into the throne room. I had to trust that you were strong enough to return to me." And he was. Of course he was. Verin is a powerful, skilled echo knight and a capable commander. Even with what he was asked to do--

His simmering anger threatens to boil over again. Fools and cowards, all of them, and Verin had paid dearly for it.

"Let me hold you," Essek says, the same tone of gentle command he's been using with Verin for a century. He lifts his arm for his brother to move closer, to wrap around him and stroke his hair when he lays his head down against his shoulder.