Valerian's study was quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire. The two brothers sat opposite each other in deep plush cushions, each holding a glass of dark amber liquor. The flames painted the room in shifting gold, their shadows stretching long across the shelves of scrolls and ancient maps.
Valerian rolled his glass slowly. "I meant what I said earlier," he began. "We talk tonight. Running off wasn't an option."
Soren smirked lightly. "I gathered that when you dragged me here like a prisoner."
Valerian arched a brow. "Dragged?"
"Well," Soren lifted a shoulder, "politely insisted, then."
The king huffed a tired laugh. It had been a long day...the coronation, Soren's sudden return...but he wouldn't have let the night pass without this conversation.
"So," Valerian said, leaning back. "Tell me how you've been. Three years is a long time."
"I'm great brother" Soren said.
