Emir/Ivan Part 71
Feb. 16th, 2023 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emirandivanFirst posted here
Emir was marched through the Palace, down hallways and staircases he had never seen before or knew existed. He saw few people, and those he did see, stared. The Palace was in mayhem, with running footsteps in all directions, soldiers shouting, someone somewhere screaming. The Guards held him tightly, hemming him in all around. He recognised the Captain, but Erden was not one of them. Emir was not sure if he’d have preferred that. Erden would have been a familiar face, if nothing else.
The temperature dropped as they reached the lowest part of the Palace. Emir shivered as he was led down a corridor of cells to a heavy door at the end. A guard stood up from an alcove, holding a lantern aloft.
“The Royal Hold,” the Captain said to him. He nodded and chose a key from the ring on his belt. Wild panic rose up in Emir as the lock was turned and the Captain pulled the door open. He could not go in there. He could not. He would never come out. His breath came fast, clouding in the cold of the corridor.
The Captain looked at him, something like understanding on his face. “Please try to proceed with dignity, your highness,” he said, putting a firm hand on Emir’s shoulder. “You will hear from the Councillor of Justice before long.”
Justice. As though Emir could even hope to receive it. But he stepped through the doorway nevertheless, shivering uncontrollably now. He was still in a fine linen shirt and the loose trousers he wore in their own chambers. Ivan’s studio had been so warm.
The Captain gave a few short orders to his men. Clothing, water to wash in. Then he closed the door and turned the key in the great lock.
Emir took several deep breaths and managed not to scream. Instead he sat down on the bed, head in his hands, breathing in, and breathing out. They would find Kanat. They had to. They would get the truth from him, somehow. But it might be too late for Emir.
He thought of all the times he had spoken with Kanat. What they had said. What could be used to incriminate him? Nothing he could think of. And yet, he had kept his past secret. Why hadn’t he confided in Ivan? What had stopped him? This could lose him his life. And if not his life, then it had lost him Ivan.
He clasped his hands together, trying to stop their shaking. Looking down at his forearms, he could see the mark of Ivan’s fingers in paint where he had grabbed Emir’s arm to pull him close. Only minutes ago they had been as one. His whole heart, he had told his husband.
Fitting his own fingertips to the marks, Emir succumbed to tears.
He was roused from his despair by the door being unlocked and two guards bringing water, food, and clothing. They lit a lantern high on the wall and left without a word.
Emir stripped his shirt off quickly, shivering again. The paint washed off his skin, colouring the water in swirls, and he gazed at it almost mesmerised. But the cold bit at him, so dragging his attention back to the task, he dried himself on his shirt and dressed in the clothing he had been sent. Had Anna sent these, he wondered? Or was she under suspicion too? Someone, at least, had sent down the woollen tunic Mikhail had given him for Midwinter, and he thanked the gods for the warmth of it.
The Royal Hold was appointed like a small state room. It was cold, but not unheated. Emir put his hand against the wall - the warmth there must mean there was a fireplace on the other side. He placed both hands there for a moment, feeling the heat seep into his skin.
In addition to the bed, there was a desk, and a source of light from a window high up on the wall too, or would have been if the sun had not already set. They had not chained him. Clearly they would rely on him behaving like the nobility he was. Perhaps the desk was for him to write his confession at, he thought rather hysterically. Not wanting to sit there, he sat down on the bed instead.
There was a sound of feet outside and Emir stilled, listening.
“How many conspirators now?” the Captain was asking someone.
“Two more, sir. Three altogether. Not that they’ll be here long,” a guard said. “The gallows are built already.”
Emir felt faint. Could one of these be Kanat?
“Have you checked on him?” the Captain said. Emir lay on the bed, closing his eyes. He did not want to have to talk to anyone. He heard the spy hole drag open, then close again.
“Asleep, sir,” the guard said.
The guard and the Captain fell silent. Emir stared at the ceiling and strained to hear anything from outside his cell.
“Did he do it then?” the guard asked the Captain idly.
“The Prince?” The Captain paused for a long time, then spoke in a low voice. “I do not believe it. I hold him here because I am told to, but I do not think I would have seized him at all if it was down to me. We watched him for a long time and there was never anything inflammatory said, not beyond a few discussions. His letters revealed nothing, though we read every one. But then there is the evidence. His lies, what we found in his library, the messages in code from his sister - it all points to conspiracy. Though my gut,” Emir heard a thud, as though the Captain had thumped a fist against his stomach “tells me he did nothing, wiser people than me think otherwise.”
“So he dies,” the guard said in a low voice.
“So it seems it must be. And I believe the young Prince Ivan will break his heart over it.”
“It is funny to think of a Prince having a heart to be broken,” the guard said.
“Aye well,” the Captain said. “We all have hearts to be broken.”
Part 72
Emir was marched through the Palace, down hallways and staircases he had never seen before or knew existed. He saw few people, and those he did see, stared. The Palace was in mayhem, with running footsteps in all directions, soldiers shouting, someone somewhere screaming. The Guards held him tightly, hemming him in all around. He recognised the Captain, but Erden was not one of them. Emir was not sure if he’d have preferred that. Erden would have been a familiar face, if nothing else.
The temperature dropped as they reached the lowest part of the Palace. Emir shivered as he was led down a corridor of cells to a heavy door at the end. A guard stood up from an alcove, holding a lantern aloft.
“The Royal Hold,” the Captain said to him. He nodded and chose a key from the ring on his belt. Wild panic rose up in Emir as the lock was turned and the Captain pulled the door open. He could not go in there. He could not. He would never come out. His breath came fast, clouding in the cold of the corridor.
The Captain looked at him, something like understanding on his face. “Please try to proceed with dignity, your highness,” he said, putting a firm hand on Emir’s shoulder. “You will hear from the Councillor of Justice before long.”
Justice. As though Emir could even hope to receive it. But he stepped through the doorway nevertheless, shivering uncontrollably now. He was still in a fine linen shirt and the loose trousers he wore in their own chambers. Ivan’s studio had been so warm.
The Captain gave a few short orders to his men. Clothing, water to wash in. Then he closed the door and turned the key in the great lock.
Emir took several deep breaths and managed not to scream. Instead he sat down on the bed, head in his hands, breathing in, and breathing out. They would find Kanat. They had to. They would get the truth from him, somehow. But it might be too late for Emir.
He thought of all the times he had spoken with Kanat. What they had said. What could be used to incriminate him? Nothing he could think of. And yet, he had kept his past secret. Why hadn’t he confided in Ivan? What had stopped him? This could lose him his life. And if not his life, then it had lost him Ivan.
He clasped his hands together, trying to stop their shaking. Looking down at his forearms, he could see the mark of Ivan’s fingers in paint where he had grabbed Emir’s arm to pull him close. Only minutes ago they had been as one. His whole heart, he had told his husband.
Fitting his own fingertips to the marks, Emir succumbed to tears.
He was roused from his despair by the door being unlocked and two guards bringing water, food, and clothing. They lit a lantern high on the wall and left without a word.
Emir stripped his shirt off quickly, shivering again. The paint washed off his skin, colouring the water in swirls, and he gazed at it almost mesmerised. But the cold bit at him, so dragging his attention back to the task, he dried himself on his shirt and dressed in the clothing he had been sent. Had Anna sent these, he wondered? Or was she under suspicion too? Someone, at least, had sent down the woollen tunic Mikhail had given him for Midwinter, and he thanked the gods for the warmth of it.
The Royal Hold was appointed like a small state room. It was cold, but not unheated. Emir put his hand against the wall - the warmth there must mean there was a fireplace on the other side. He placed both hands there for a moment, feeling the heat seep into his skin.
In addition to the bed, there was a desk, and a source of light from a window high up on the wall too, or would have been if the sun had not already set. They had not chained him. Clearly they would rely on him behaving like the nobility he was. Perhaps the desk was for him to write his confession at, he thought rather hysterically. Not wanting to sit there, he sat down on the bed instead.
There was a sound of feet outside and Emir stilled, listening.
“How many conspirators now?” the Captain was asking someone.
“Two more, sir. Three altogether. Not that they’ll be here long,” a guard said. “The gallows are built already.”
Emir felt faint. Could one of these be Kanat?
“Have you checked on him?” the Captain said. Emir lay on the bed, closing his eyes. He did not want to have to talk to anyone. He heard the spy hole drag open, then close again.
“Asleep, sir,” the guard said.
The guard and the Captain fell silent. Emir stared at the ceiling and strained to hear anything from outside his cell.
“Did he do it then?” the guard asked the Captain idly.
“The Prince?” The Captain paused for a long time, then spoke in a low voice. “I do not believe it. I hold him here because I am told to, but I do not think I would have seized him at all if it was down to me. We watched him for a long time and there was never anything inflammatory said, not beyond a few discussions. His letters revealed nothing, though we read every one. But then there is the evidence. His lies, what we found in his library, the messages in code from his sister - it all points to conspiracy. Though my gut,” Emir heard a thud, as though the Captain had thumped a fist against his stomach “tells me he did nothing, wiser people than me think otherwise.”
“So he dies,” the guard said in a low voice.
“So it seems it must be. And I believe the young Prince Ivan will break his heart over it.”
“It is funny to think of a Prince having a heart to be broken,” the guard said.
“Aye well,” the Captain said. “We all have hearts to be broken.”
Part 72
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