Of all the traits Kaj had claimed as his own during the span of his life, quick to anger had never been on the list. Anger was an emotion he did not often indulge in, and it was generally on behalf of others, not directly stemmed from his own plethora of reactions. Yet it simmered in his veins, mingled with disbelief and despair, until he was drunk on the cocktail of his own plentiful emotions. Kaj had never fought with Kahlua, had never engaged in the trading of barbed words and raised voices with the beauty he had loved as long as he could recall. Doing so had drained him, made him feel as useless as he had after his fight with Resplendence. Why was it that he could no longer keep the peace between he and those he loved most? Was he failing? What had he done to incur the wrath of his beloved family, and in such magnitude?

Each massive hoof dragged through the earth, dryer than he recalled. The seasons seemed to change so quickly...was time becoming meaningless to him? Was he becoming old, aged? It certainly felt as if his soul was old and heavy, even when his body was in its prime.

Newly burnt hair rustled in the dry wind, sticking straight up off the crest of his neck. A mohawk given to him by Valiance, one he often forgot he had until the wind caressed his neck a certain way, or he wouldn't catch his longer tresses on various tree branches and foliage. It was a reminder of everything he'd failed to do, all the losses he'd suffered through and wrongs he'd made. His heart was heavy and weary, exhausted with the weight of his neverending sorrows. A thousand tendrils of love spread throughout his life, only for each to become poisoned or severed against his will and desires. Left alone, adrift, in a world he still didn't understand. Would he ever? Or would he continue to suffer, because of his inability to grasp Helovia and her intricacies?

A howl broke the steady thrum of his subconscious thoughts, turning a mighty golden head towards the northern border. For a moment Kaj hesitated, limbs jerking sporadically in the opposite direction, desiring anything but confrontation. But, Kaj was closest. The Edge was a land of massive proportions, it would be simply unfair to leave someone else to the duty when he himself was close at hand. Turning back to the sound, he lifted his head, neck cording and tightening as song burst forth in response from his own lips.

I shall come.

Heavy steps drew him quickly towards the broken remains of the wall, the familiar howl that played on old chords and memories in his head. Yet, the voice that broke the barrier of silence was what tapped into the correct folder for the king. Aaron.

With a stronger, more eager step, the beast advanced upon the borders. Excitement and helpless desire burst like erratic fireworks in his chest. After all this time...had Aaron returned? Kaj burst through the foliage, and there before his eyes was his old Glazier, weathered and weary but alive. "Aaron," he breathed, momentarily frozen in his steps, feeling as if he had gazed into a mirror reflecting the past. Perhaps he could fix this. Perhaps he was not beyond saving.

Racing forth, he paused only to ensure not smacking into the poor paint, but muzzle was thrust in eager desire to reaffirm their relationship. "Welcome home, brother," he grunted happily, eyes reflecting the bright summer skies above. Relieved. Maybe he could redeem himself, if only to one person.

They moved in tandem, a motion split in two mirrors, seeking reunion. Common ground. A king and his soldier, but not on this soil. No, they were merely brothers. Both with too heavy a burden to bear, too much blood on the path of their past. They came together like broken souls, fitting their shattered edges together, trying to form a semblance of normality. Kaj received him with a neck thrown round Aaron's withers, the paint's face warm and heavy against the arch of his neck. Familiar. Alanna's pawsteps were the chorus to their joining, singing a song of reunion, of home and safety and kinship.

Aaron's voice mumbled out against his skin, and a mighty sigh of relief escaped the confines of the buckskin brute. His laugh was a little hysterical, but all joy. "I am glad to see you safe," he whispered, reluctantly parting from his faithful shepherd to give room for the words that spilled from his brother's lips in explanation. An explanation Aaron would never truly have to give. Not to Kaj. Not ever. And Kaj said as much, in the quiet lull that came between Aaron's words.

"You need not ever explain yourself to me, Aaron. Nor ever apologize for following the path of your heart," he assured quietly, even as he digested the information, preparing a proper response. He could never really understand Aaron's ordeal, but he could sympathize the pain and difficulty of it all. Perhaps that could be enough. His coughing was rather terrifying, and Kaj made an aborted step forward as if to heave the weight of that physical burden from his brother's skin.

"Aye, Kahlua is still Queen. Please, brother. Let me call you a healer. It pains me to see you ill," he pleaded, even though Aaron could not rightfully reject him. Kaj would summon them nonetheless, would force upon Aaron their healing powers, because Aaron had suffered enough. He was finally home. Kaj would not stand for such suffering to continue beneath his power. He hoped it would not come to that, however.

"You may serve however you want, Aaron. I will speak to the soldiers, tell them that you are to be among their ranks soon." Reaching out, he moved to brush his muzzle against Aaron's. Eyes softened. "We will welcome you home with open arms," he promised quietly.