Arion's gaze stayed on him, steady and intent, and then, unexpectedly, his eyes softened and he let out a warm laugh.
It was unfair how good that laugh was. Low and real, like it had been hiding behind discipline for years. It went straight through Dean's defenses and made him feel, for one humiliating second, like melting was a reasonable response.
"I'm the best at scowling out of my siblings," Arion said, the amusement still clinging to his voice.
Dean blinked, then recovered enough to huff. "You have ten," he said. "That's an achievement. Also, should I be prepared for a sibling war."
Arion's mouth twitched, still amused. "No, not really."
Dean lifted a brow.
"My older sisters are married and away from the capital," Arion continued, tone settling back into calm. "The rest are underage. And none of them is particularly interested in taking the throne from me."
Dean tilted his head slowly. "Mhmm."
Arion's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't do that."
