"Oh, well." He thinks on it for a second.

He shrugs, "No, I can't really see myself doing that, even if I somehow ended up back in Valenwood during the coup. Commanding an army doesn't sound as bad as ruling a kingdom, but I bet it's still awful."

"I can handle awful." 

"Sure, so can I. Doesn't mean I'd want to," he shrugs. "So you've got brothers, what are they like?" 

"I have three. Gael, Ilek, and Rial." 

He pauses, putting his thoughts in order. 

"Gael is... Kind. Just. Steady. He has a good head for politics but he works for the benefit of our people. He loves to read, to learn new things, and he's a fair hand with a blade and a spell, as well. He'll be king, now that I am disowned. He will be much better at it than I could have been. In an ideal world, however, he would have preferred to be a scholar, I think. He often has trouble believing that he is worthy of the trust his supporters place in him. He would prefer a more limited social circle than that which comes with being crown prince."

Jaim worries he will burn himself out, and wishes he would take more breaks. Yes, he is aware this is hypocritical. 

"Ilek is more quiet about it, but he is equally as kind and just as Gael is. He has a great deal of trouble relating to and understanding other people, however. He is honest to a fault - he hates manipulation - and he subconsciously expects other people to be the same, which of course they are not. He is a skilled fighter - much moreso than I was at his age - and musician, and he is curious, about everything, but used to keeping his curiosity to himself. The life of a prince stifles him."

"Rial loves people. He loves talking to them, and helping them, and making friends," Jaim smiles fondly. "He loves magic - he's especially fascinated by runescripting, the process through which we make longer-term magical objects, but any magic will catch his attention. He enjoys writing. He writes to me, otherwise I'd hardly know him. I have only seen him twice since I was disowned."

Gaemir listens to these descriptions, it dawning on him that- "Oh, you... really love them, huh?" 

Jaim blinks. 

"Of course. They are my little brothers. I would do anything to see them happy and safe."

Gaemir has never loved someone like that in his life. 

This hurts, for some reason. Like a small ball of heat in his chest, and a weight in his belly. Hearing this person, an alternate version of himself, speak so fondly of his loved ones... He wants that. 

"...If I have any siblings, I don't know it. My mother had another son, but as far as I know he died before I was born, during the coup. Maybe I have siblings by my father, but I've never met him - I only know his given name." 

Jaim gives him a long look. 

"Do you have anyone?" He asks. 

He shrugs, "I have the Guild? I have friends all over Skyrim." Nothing like that, though. 

"That sounds lonely." 

Not that he gets to see most of his loved ones often, but at least he has them. Knows that there are people out there who love him, and would miss him if he died. 

Shrug. Half-hearted smile. 

"I'm good, really." He has all the world to see and nothing to hold him back. Why wouldn't he be? 

Jaim hesitates briefly, and then slips off his stool to offer Gaemir a hug. 

...Gaemir will take a hug, yeah. 

Hug.

...He means to be solid and comforting about it, but he sags a little once he has his arms around Gaemir. The tea helps, but he is still exhausted, physically and magically. His wounds are healed, but still tender, and could reopen if sufficiently stressed. He really is not prepared for world-meeting shenanigans. 

Gaemir notices this. 

"Hey, are you ok?"

"Just tired," Jaim sighs, pulling away. "There was a skirmish this afternoon. We lost a great deal of people. I was injured killing the enemy commander, and my mana pool is drained." 

"Divines." He gently pushes Jaim back towards his seat, "Don't hurt yourself on my account."

Once Jaim is settled again, he hops back up into his own stool, looking to turn the subject away from such heavy topics.

"Drained? Your magicka recovery rate is that slow? Or, I suppose your world might have different magic." 

"It may be," he agrees, taking another sip of tea. "There are eight colours of mana - Time, Fire, Air, Life, Earth, Water, Illusion, Space - which we may use alone or together to cast spells. The amount of magic we may cast depends on the size of our mana pools, the colouration of them, and our skill with the colour. I am most skilled at Life, Air, and Water, but my pool contains mostly Air and Water mana, along with a few low-tier spells worth of the other six, and a small pool of unrefined mana I maintain mostly for sensing. Sleep and meditation are the best ways to recover mana, though one can absorb a very small amount from food and the mana in the air they breathe."

"Huh. I'm not much of a scholar, really, but I can give you an overview." He thinks for a moment, before beginning, "We recover magicka at a pretty much steady rate all the time, until our pool is full. There's a bunch of branches of magic - Hm, Illusion, Destruction, Conjuration, Restoration, Alteration... Yeah, and Enchanting and Alchemy, though those don't involve spells. Spells are learned from spellbooks, usually, which are enchanted to help the person reading them absorb and memorise their contents. They are really complicated, spellcrafting takes ages and you have to do a lot of checking and doublechecking your math - I've never done it myself, but I know some mages."

"I'm about mid-Novice level at most of them - the lowest level of skill beyond, you know, not using magic at all - but I'm low-Adept at Illusion."

"Do you think we could learn each others' systems?" He wonders. "Assuming you have access to spellbooks. Ordinarily I could check you for a mana pool, as well, but." 

"Maybe! But it can wait," Gaemir eyes him. "Bar also rents rooms, you know. You could get one and go get some sleep. You look like you could use it." 

He huffs a laugh, "Alright, you may be right about that." Though how well he will be able to sleep in a strange place like this with no one he trusts in reach of his passive senses - once he has the mana for them, that is - is up in the air. 

He will solicit Bar for a key to a room, paying with the money in his coinpouch, and then slip back down from the stool. 

"I suppose I will see you in some hours," he directs at Gaemir.

"Oh, Bar mentioned that time doesn't always pass consistently in here. You might be gone no time at all from my perspective, or it could be months or something. I'll come looking if you're gone too long, how about, if you'll give me your room number."

Jaim blinks, then hums, accepting this. 

...He gives Gaemir a long look. Considers for another long moment.

Then, "You would be welcome to come with me," he offers. 

Not that there'd be anything in particular happening beyond sleep at this time, given his state. But. 

Jaim may not feel the same kind of loneliness, but he recognises it when he sees it. There's no reason for either of them to be alone, right now.