Emir/Ivan Part 54
Oct. 29th, 2020 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emirandivanFirst posted here
Emir closed his eye for a moment and took a breath. He hadn’t thought he’d had enough champagne to cause this dizziness, but perhaps it was some reaction to the physical activity of dancing. He tried to consider what could possibly be the cause, but the music was so loud, and an angry discussion in a nearby alcove intruded on his thoughts.
“I have given no quarter.” It was Peter who spoke, restrained fury in his voice. “You have had someone in the meetings to hear it. To say I am compromising is...”
“That is not what I meant sire,” someone replied sharply, and it could only be a General who could be brave enough to either berate or interrupt Peter. “But there can be no option for them to suggest further negotiations. You must issue an ultimatum – one so humiliating they can only refuse it.”
“Must I?” Peter said icily.
“Your decision of course, sire,” the General returned. “But Altuem has been a thorn in our side long enough. They must be dealt with, swiftly and completely.”
Emir felt cold fear wash over him. He had known that Peter was uninterested in the negotiations but had not realised that it was more than ego driving him. He rubbed at his temples, both straining to listen and not wanting to hear any more.
“We must have that road,” the General continued. “You know this. There is no other way to reach the North. Once we have that, everything else is within our grasp.”
Emir stood, swaying a little. Enough. He did not feel in his right mind tonight, he could not think of what he had just heard. He wanted to find Ivan and dance once more, and then leave. He could not think of this tonight; this nightmarish conversation amid a fairytale.
But Ivan was still nowhere to be seen.
Emir tried to dismiss the creeping doubt which was coming upon him after Kanat’s words. Perhaps Ivan considered his duty to Emir that evening dispatched. But no, that could not be it. Ivan was not cruel.
“Ah, there you are,” Peter said, swatting Emir on the arm. Emir turned, startled.
“Come along then. Mother expects us to dance together at least once.”
Emir could not think that Peter’s mother cared one jot who anyone danced with, as she had not been seen this last hour. But people were looking now and his thoughts were too slow and sluggish to think of any excuse, so allowed Peter to lead him to the dance floor.
“At least try to look pleased you’re dancing with the Crown Prince,” Peter said, a nasty smile on his face. “Not many Samatrans can claim that honour.”
Emir could not bring himself to say anything. Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
“You seem a little sullen. At least Ivan managed to behave long enough for the two of you to put on a show for us all. He looked almost convincingly besotted,” he said. “Reverting to type now, of course.” He laughed.
“What do you mean?” Emir said.
Peter nodded towards the back of the room.
Emir turned his head quickly just in time to see Ivan stagger and fall, knocking into a servant holding a tray of drinks. Adric and Pasha rushed to his side, concern on their faces. Gods what had happened?
“I wish you’d use the influence you have over him to get him to stop making a fucking spectacle of himself,” Peter said. “It’s not nearly midnight and he can hardly stand.”
“He must be unwell,” Emir said, trying to pull away from Peter. “Your highness, I must…”
“Oh for heaven’s sake there’s no need to run to him like a nursemaid,” Peter scoffed. “You must have seen him do this before.” He tapped his nostril. “The coca. Doesn’t know when to stop.”
“That’s untrue,” Emir said. Ivan did indulge now and again, but the drug had only made him chatter more, his eyes bright. He’d never seen him collapse.
“You forget I’ve known him all his useless life,” Peter said. “You’ve barely seen what he’s capable of.”
“And neither have you,” Emir ground out, his temper barely under control. “Why are you so cruel about Ivan? You hold him in such disdain, and for no reason.”
“I’m surprised you hold him in such high regard yourself. He’s a wastrel and a slut, as the whole Court has witnessed. But on top of that, you see my wife and daughter are no longer at Court with me. Ask him about that, since he assisted her disappearance,” Peter said, his eyes cold with anger. “Most likely fucking her, of course.”
There was no heartbreak beneath that cold fury, Emir noted. Just the petulance of a thwarted child. Gods, he wanted this dance to end, and he wanted to see Ivan, now. He stepped back.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Peter said, voice pleasant, gripping Emir painfully by the wrist. “Have you any idea of the impropriety of abandoning me mid-dance?”
“I do not wish to listen to you slander my husband one moment longer,” Emir said. He twisted his wrist out of Peter’s grasp in a practiced move he’d learnt from Emira. He was aware that a few people had turned to stare.
“No need for a scene,” Peter said, taking Emir’s hand again and tugging him into the dance. He looked as though he was thoroughly enjoying any scene they might be causing. “And as for slander – well, what was untrue? Here’s his latest plaything now.”
Emir could see Erden making his way through the courtiers, drawing a few appreciative glances. He couldn’t see Ivan any longer, but Adric was talking heatedly to a servant.
“You know, I can’t work you out,” Peter said. “You have all this influence with him, and yet you don’t put a stop to the soldier nonsense. Perhaps it suits you that way though.” The steps of the dance had brought them close, face to face, Peter looking right at Emir. “Leaves you free for other pursuits. Have you set your sights higher than the lowly position of husband to a fourth brother? You could.”
“Stop it,” Emir said disgustedly. His head was throbbing again, his thoughts muddled. Peter laughed. He still held Emir’s hand tightly as they executed the steps of the dance. Again it struck Emir how similar Peter looked to his brother, and yet how his cruel nature marred his looks.
“You should indulge me you know. I hold your happiness in my hands,” Peter said. “Do you think I will tolerate Ivan in my Court once I am King? I plan to exile him as soon as I am crowned. But I doubt I would permit you to go with him.” Peter watched Emir’s face greedily for a reaction.
“The two of you, plotting together, seeing yourselves as wronged. No, Prince Emir - you would be dispatched straight back where you came from. Unless of course I find some use for you here.” Peter eyed him as spoke, a parody of seduction.
It was too much. Emir wrenched away from him entirely. “You are not King yet,” he said a little too loudly, ignoring the heads turning towards them.
"Off you go then," Peter said with another laugh. "See if you can draw his attention from the handsome soldier. I wish you luck."
Shaking, Emir pushed through the press of people in search of his husband.
Part 55
Emir closed his eye for a moment and took a breath. He hadn’t thought he’d had enough champagne to cause this dizziness, but perhaps it was some reaction to the physical activity of dancing. He tried to consider what could possibly be the cause, but the music was so loud, and an angry discussion in a nearby alcove intruded on his thoughts.
“I have given no quarter.” It was Peter who spoke, restrained fury in his voice. “You have had someone in the meetings to hear it. To say I am compromising is...”
“That is not what I meant sire,” someone replied sharply, and it could only be a General who could be brave enough to either berate or interrupt Peter. “But there can be no option for them to suggest further negotiations. You must issue an ultimatum – one so humiliating they can only refuse it.”
“Must I?” Peter said icily.
“Your decision of course, sire,” the General returned. “But Altuem has been a thorn in our side long enough. They must be dealt with, swiftly and completely.”
Emir felt cold fear wash over him. He had known that Peter was uninterested in the negotiations but had not realised that it was more than ego driving him. He rubbed at his temples, both straining to listen and not wanting to hear any more.
“We must have that road,” the General continued. “You know this. There is no other way to reach the North. Once we have that, everything else is within our grasp.”
Emir stood, swaying a little. Enough. He did not feel in his right mind tonight, he could not think of what he had just heard. He wanted to find Ivan and dance once more, and then leave. He could not think of this tonight; this nightmarish conversation amid a fairytale.
But Ivan was still nowhere to be seen.
Emir tried to dismiss the creeping doubt which was coming upon him after Kanat’s words. Perhaps Ivan considered his duty to Emir that evening dispatched. But no, that could not be it. Ivan was not cruel.
“Ah, there you are,” Peter said, swatting Emir on the arm. Emir turned, startled.
“Come along then. Mother expects us to dance together at least once.”
Emir could not think that Peter’s mother cared one jot who anyone danced with, as she had not been seen this last hour. But people were looking now and his thoughts were too slow and sluggish to think of any excuse, so allowed Peter to lead him to the dance floor.
“At least try to look pleased you’re dancing with the Crown Prince,” Peter said, a nasty smile on his face. “Not many Samatrans can claim that honour.”
Emir could not bring himself to say anything. Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
“You seem a little sullen. At least Ivan managed to behave long enough for the two of you to put on a show for us all. He looked almost convincingly besotted,” he said. “Reverting to type now, of course.” He laughed.
“What do you mean?” Emir said.
Peter nodded towards the back of the room.
Emir turned his head quickly just in time to see Ivan stagger and fall, knocking into a servant holding a tray of drinks. Adric and Pasha rushed to his side, concern on their faces. Gods what had happened?
“I wish you’d use the influence you have over him to get him to stop making a fucking spectacle of himself,” Peter said. “It’s not nearly midnight and he can hardly stand.”
“He must be unwell,” Emir said, trying to pull away from Peter. “Your highness, I must…”
“Oh for heaven’s sake there’s no need to run to him like a nursemaid,” Peter scoffed. “You must have seen him do this before.” He tapped his nostril. “The coca. Doesn’t know when to stop.”
“That’s untrue,” Emir said. Ivan did indulge now and again, but the drug had only made him chatter more, his eyes bright. He’d never seen him collapse.
“You forget I’ve known him all his useless life,” Peter said. “You’ve barely seen what he’s capable of.”
“And neither have you,” Emir ground out, his temper barely under control. “Why are you so cruel about Ivan? You hold him in such disdain, and for no reason.”
“I’m surprised you hold him in such high regard yourself. He’s a wastrel and a slut, as the whole Court has witnessed. But on top of that, you see my wife and daughter are no longer at Court with me. Ask him about that, since he assisted her disappearance,” Peter said, his eyes cold with anger. “Most likely fucking her, of course.”
There was no heartbreak beneath that cold fury, Emir noted. Just the petulance of a thwarted child. Gods, he wanted this dance to end, and he wanted to see Ivan, now. He stepped back.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Peter said, voice pleasant, gripping Emir painfully by the wrist. “Have you any idea of the impropriety of abandoning me mid-dance?”
“I do not wish to listen to you slander my husband one moment longer,” Emir said. He twisted his wrist out of Peter’s grasp in a practiced move he’d learnt from Emira. He was aware that a few people had turned to stare.
“No need for a scene,” Peter said, taking Emir’s hand again and tugging him into the dance. He looked as though he was thoroughly enjoying any scene they might be causing. “And as for slander – well, what was untrue? Here’s his latest plaything now.”
Emir could see Erden making his way through the courtiers, drawing a few appreciative glances. He couldn’t see Ivan any longer, but Adric was talking heatedly to a servant.
“You know, I can’t work you out,” Peter said. “You have all this influence with him, and yet you don’t put a stop to the soldier nonsense. Perhaps it suits you that way though.” The steps of the dance had brought them close, face to face, Peter looking right at Emir. “Leaves you free for other pursuits. Have you set your sights higher than the lowly position of husband to a fourth brother? You could.”
“Stop it,” Emir said disgustedly. His head was throbbing again, his thoughts muddled. Peter laughed. He still held Emir’s hand tightly as they executed the steps of the dance. Again it struck Emir how similar Peter looked to his brother, and yet how his cruel nature marred his looks.
“You should indulge me you know. I hold your happiness in my hands,” Peter said. “Do you think I will tolerate Ivan in my Court once I am King? I plan to exile him as soon as I am crowned. But I doubt I would permit you to go with him.” Peter watched Emir’s face greedily for a reaction.
“The two of you, plotting together, seeing yourselves as wronged. No, Prince Emir - you would be dispatched straight back where you came from. Unless of course I find some use for you here.” Peter eyed him as spoke, a parody of seduction.
It was too much. Emir wrenched away from him entirely. “You are not King yet,” he said a little too loudly, ignoring the heads turning towards them.
"Off you go then," Peter said with another laugh. "See if you can draw his attention from the handsome soldier. I wish you luck."
Shaking, Emir pushed through the press of people in search of his husband.
Part 55
no subject
Date: 2020-10-30 05:23 am (UTC)It's good that Ivan has people around to help him though? Probably?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-30 03:21 pm (UTC)There are plenty people there to help Ivan - maybe one too many!
no subject
Date: 2020-10-31 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-11-06 09:05 am (UTC)