Emir/Ivan Part 73
Mar. 14th, 2023 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emirandivanFirst posted here
Emir was marched to a chamber he had never seen before. The windows were heavily draped in red, and a long table was set at the end of the room. Behind it, an enormous portrait of Ivan’s parents loomed. Four people sat behind the table, and more on chairs set in rows down the length of the room. No chair for Emir. He was to stand before them all, then.
And Ivan. For there he was, pale as snow and flanked by his brother and Yonathan. He had his head bowed, his hair loose and falling forward over his face. Emir could still see some paint on his hands. Olya sat next to Mikhail, and Anna sat next to Yonathan. She was under no suspicion then, at least.
Mikhail had a bandage wrapped around his hand, and Emir felt sickened at the idea of someone attacking him. And where was the Queen? Could she have been injured too? He had been told nothing at all. He took a shaky breath and looked at the table of Ministers in front of him.
The Minister of Justice stood, pulling himself heavily to his feet. He was an old man with severe eyebrows and a heavy beard. He was wearing black robes, mostly fur. The pelt of the southern river fox, Emir thought.
“Prince Emir of Samatra, you are accused of conspiring to assassinate the Crown Prince Peter of Eresenia…”
“I deny it,” Emir said, his voice coming out more strongly than he had hoped. “This accusation is false and it is an insult.”
The Minister held up his hand. Emir swallowed down his anger.
“You will have ample opportunity to defend yourself,” the Minister said. “Or to see sense and make your confession to us and to your gods. I believe your Samatran gods are more lenient on those who tell the truth.”
Mikhail tried to stand up but was pulled back into his seat by Olya. “That is not the authentic philosophy of the Samatran…” Emir heard him begin, while Olya spoke quickly to him in a hushed voice. Ivan reached over and took Mikhail’s uninjured hand and squeezed it.
Mikhail’s interruption had given Emir more heart than he realised. Perhaps they did not all condemn him. Perhaps there was still hope. Ivan had still not looked up at him, but he was here. That was something.
“Her Imperial Majesty demands to hear your confession herself,” the Minister said. “But not today.” he turned away, and Emir felt the guards press closer around him. That could not be all.
He looked over at Ivan. Ivan was sitting up straight, looking at the Minister of Justice. He still held Mikhail’s hand tightly, his lips pressed together, and his face still shockingly pale.
“I did not do this,” Emir said loudly.
Ivan turned his head and their eyes locked. Emir could think of nothing more to say with all eyes on him. He only looked at his husband and pressed his hand to his heart.
“I am innocent,” he said, his voice breaking. He looked at Ivan’s lovely face, trying not to imagine that this would be the last time he saw him. Ivan’s throat worked, and he blinked hard, but did not break their gaze.
“You will be heard when the Queen is ready,” the Minister said.
Emir felt the heavy hand of a guard on his shoulder, and another grasp on his upper arm, and fought the instinct to shrug free of their grasp. The realisation that the guards had free rein to touch him at will sent his heart racing. All the protection of royalty seemed stripped away from him now and the gods only knew what lay ahead. He thought hard of Emira. He wanted to see her more desperately than ever.
For a wild moment he thought of the time Emira had convinced him she could read his mind. They had been playing cards and she had predicted every single play he made. His heart had leapt with both excitement and worry that Emira could see his thoughts - his own sister with magical powers! - but then realised she had angled the glazed door of a bookcase behind him so that she could see the reflection of his cards. But it had excited his interest, and for weeks afterwards he’d “sent” thoughts to Emira, to see if she could read them. It had never worked. He did the same futile thing now as he looked at Ivan. Please know me. Please know I didn’t do this.
Ivan did not stop looking back at him until the guards gripped Emir’s arms and led him out of the room.
Part 74
Emir was marched to a chamber he had never seen before. The windows were heavily draped in red, and a long table was set at the end of the room. Behind it, an enormous portrait of Ivan’s parents loomed. Four people sat behind the table, and more on chairs set in rows down the length of the room. No chair for Emir. He was to stand before them all, then.
And Ivan. For there he was, pale as snow and flanked by his brother and Yonathan. He had his head bowed, his hair loose and falling forward over his face. Emir could still see some paint on his hands. Olya sat next to Mikhail, and Anna sat next to Yonathan. She was under no suspicion then, at least.
Mikhail had a bandage wrapped around his hand, and Emir felt sickened at the idea of someone attacking him. And where was the Queen? Could she have been injured too? He had been told nothing at all. He took a shaky breath and looked at the table of Ministers in front of him.
The Minister of Justice stood, pulling himself heavily to his feet. He was an old man with severe eyebrows and a heavy beard. He was wearing black robes, mostly fur. The pelt of the southern river fox, Emir thought.
“Prince Emir of Samatra, you are accused of conspiring to assassinate the Crown Prince Peter of Eresenia…”
“I deny it,” Emir said, his voice coming out more strongly than he had hoped. “This accusation is false and it is an insult.”
The Minister held up his hand. Emir swallowed down his anger.
“You will have ample opportunity to defend yourself,” the Minister said. “Or to see sense and make your confession to us and to your gods. I believe your Samatran gods are more lenient on those who tell the truth.”
Mikhail tried to stand up but was pulled back into his seat by Olya. “That is not the authentic philosophy of the Samatran…” Emir heard him begin, while Olya spoke quickly to him in a hushed voice. Ivan reached over and took Mikhail’s uninjured hand and squeezed it.
Mikhail’s interruption had given Emir more heart than he realised. Perhaps they did not all condemn him. Perhaps there was still hope. Ivan had still not looked up at him, but he was here. That was something.
“Her Imperial Majesty demands to hear your confession herself,” the Minister said. “But not today.” he turned away, and Emir felt the guards press closer around him. That could not be all.
He looked over at Ivan. Ivan was sitting up straight, looking at the Minister of Justice. He still held Mikhail’s hand tightly, his lips pressed together, and his face still shockingly pale.
“I did not do this,” Emir said loudly.
Ivan turned his head and their eyes locked. Emir could think of nothing more to say with all eyes on him. He only looked at his husband and pressed his hand to his heart.
“I am innocent,” he said, his voice breaking. He looked at Ivan’s lovely face, trying not to imagine that this would be the last time he saw him. Ivan’s throat worked, and he blinked hard, but did not break their gaze.
“You will be heard when the Queen is ready,” the Minister said.
Emir felt the heavy hand of a guard on his shoulder, and another grasp on his upper arm, and fought the instinct to shrug free of their grasp. The realisation that the guards had free rein to touch him at will sent his heart racing. All the protection of royalty seemed stripped away from him now and the gods only knew what lay ahead. He thought hard of Emira. He wanted to see her more desperately than ever.
For a wild moment he thought of the time Emira had convinced him she could read his mind. They had been playing cards and she had predicted every single play he made. His heart had leapt with both excitement and worry that Emira could see his thoughts - his own sister with magical powers! - but then realised she had angled the glazed door of a bookcase behind him so that she could see the reflection of his cards. But it had excited his interest, and for weeks afterwards he’d “sent” thoughts to Emira, to see if she could read them. It had never worked. He did the same futile thing now as he looked at Ivan. Please know me. Please know I didn’t do this.
Ivan did not stop looking back at him until the guards gripped Emir’s arms and led him out of the room.
Part 74
