Of all the possible figures Arnold could have imagined behind that tent flap, he would never have thought to find him.
His younger brother.
The sight of him struck with the same cold weight as a blow to the gut, yet Arnold found himself rooted.
They hadn't seen one another in nearly three months.
Three months since the capital had fallen into silence.
Three months since the world had cracked open beneath their family name.
And now, here he was, sitting there as if nothing had happened .
No cloak of exile on his shoulders. No desperation in his posture. Just… calm. Almost regal.
It was infuriating really, while they were knee-deep in shit , it looked like Thalien was having the time of his life.
