Soren didn't move.
For a heartbeat, then another, he simply stood there, staring at his brother as though the study itself had shifted sideways and taken reality with it.
Then he blinked, once, twice—and laughed. Not loudly. Not mockingly. Just a short, startled sound that escaped before he could stop it.
"Sorry," he said, dragging a hand down his face, wiping at eyes that had inexplicably begun to water. "It's just—unexpected."
Valerian said nothing.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth and the restless sigh of the wind outside the tall windows.
Soren looked at him again, more carefully this time, as if expecting the corner of Valerian's mouth to twitch. As if the joke would finally land.
"You—" he cleared his throat. "You're really not joking?"
Valerian's expression remained carved from stone.
Something shifted in Soren's posture. The humor ebbed, replaced by disbelief so sharp it bordered on awe.
