He pretends to not hear the king’s petty annoyances - unsure if it was even meant to be heard by himself.
Mihr and Sidonai had been spending a significant amount of time together, true, but he had assumed that they were simply… making up for time spent apart. On the other hand… the king had a point. Missing a ball was one thing - it would be easy to spend the duration in some nook of the palace, conversing over a stolen plate of hors d’ouevres. He would know.
But it was another thing entirely to miss a major peace treaty signing that would end a war that many citizens did not even remember a time prior to - especially a treaty between two countries they would inherit one day.
If it were not his own brother in question, Sytry would have deemed the behavior downright irresponsible for someone of such responsibility - and now anxiety creeps up on him, too, though he tries to not show it.
Had something happened to Mihr while he and his mother were preoccupied? Had he really been so selfish as to ignore his brother in a time of need he didn’t even know existed?
If that was the case, then he had to -
But before he can move to stand up, to inquire after Mihr, his mother stands, and he gives up the idea.
He would have to wait to find Mihr later.
… But it turns out, he doesn’t have to wait long - for his mother barely gets a single sentence in before the hall doors slam open, revealing the missing crown princes… quite fashionably late, but from the serious looks on their faces, Sytry suddenly has a sense of foreboding that this is no ordinary tardiness.
And in the next moment, his brother has accused the king of treason.
Before he can even think, he’s stood up from his seat - though he has no plan of action, he knows he has to stop this somehow, before Mihr loses all respect he has of the nobles on both sides.
But as Mihr continues, Sytry is frozen in place - this was about him?
And as the words continue to spill, bubbling over into the assembly as some overflowing pot of boiling water, a cold realization comes over him that Mihr must have spoken to Alphonsine about what happened that day, and pieced together the truth of the matter.
But that truth couldn’t be known publicly, no matter what the consequences - how could Mihr not see that?
Healing, light - if even one noble present made the wild connection between his unknown healing abilities and his ability to manifest light, his life would be over. Not only his, but his family would surely be branded as traitors for allowing him to live at all.
But in the few moments it takes him to clear the fog in his mind, when his focus returns to the present moment, when he’s faced with his brother’s tears and the reality of Sidonai’s confession and those familiar hands squeezing his own as if he’s praying -
He lowers his eyes - desperate for any privacy in his expression as he can manage to obtain here.
He knows what he must do, even if part of him wishes he did not, that he would have the courage to act on instinct alone.
A few deafening moments pass.
His gaze shifts to the king at his side, who is still seated, and sharpens. A warning, a silent you owe me one.
And then he slowly inhales, and looks up to face his brother, drawing his hands away before gently leaning forward to hug him, choosing his next words carefully.
“Mihr… I know this is difficult for you. For us. I don’t know how you came to these conclusions, but…”
He pulls away, giving Mihr a glance in silent apology.
“I would like to assure everyone present, King Asmodeus is not guilty of the accusations laid forth here to my knowledge.”
He has chosen his side - and for the first time, it is not his family’s.
He turns again to Mihr, and bows deeply.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to inform you of the engagement. You should have been the first to know, and I should have known that doing things so suddenly would have worried you and made you look elsewhere for explanation.”
“The truth is… while I did assist in a delicate matter involving the crown prince Sidonai, the king has graciously offered to include certain very favorable terms in this peace treaty to be signed today, in exchange for my hand and nothing else, as a gesture of gratitude for my assistance in that matter.”
A smile at Asmodeus - though to others, it might seem a smile of acknowledgment or even affection, he trusted the king would recognize it as the second warning it was - a reminder that the only way to avoid treason now was to acquiesce to Sytry’s narrative, and follow through with the terms of the treaty that Sytry had demanded earlier.
“I’d like to sincerely apologize for the disturbance my brother and your crown prince have caused. It was on account of my oversight and egregious mistakes that they were forced to investigate this matter, on evidence I accidentally and erroneously provided. I hope King Asmodeus will not assign blame to them, but to me instead… and I hope he will accept my promise that such carelessness will not happen again.”
“My god, the boy’s gone absolutely mad,” Asmodeus managed to hiss. He tried his best not to show it, but he was infuriated. How in the hell did the little brat get wind of their interactions? Unless Sytry told. But would he be stupid enough to risk outing his true nature?
Luckily enough for him, Sytry seemed to come up with a swift, improvised story. He’d graciously healed the prince, then agreed to marriage for the good of their countries. The things Mihr spouted were speculative nonsense. Good. It seemed believable enough for the others to buy it. The Akri’qarians would believe anything Asmodeus told them and the Brakhavans had to trust their level-headed prince. It seemed they were safe….for now.
“Prince Sytry’s words are the truth. Why in the hell would I risk peace for my kingdom? Why would I leave my legacy without an appropriate heir? For Lucifer’s sake, I took a fist to the face last night from that woman and did nothing to hinder my peace agreements. This sort of behavior I would expect from Sidonai. But I believed you were of more sound mind, Prince Mihr. You are deeply disturbed to risk your mother’s hard work.”
Murmurs began once more. Perhaps Mihr was disturbed. All this change, losing his brother, stress from preparing to be his mother’s heir. Perhaps the boy truly was of weak mind. Perhaps he cracked under the pressure.
Mihr’s expression turned into pure horror. No. No it couldn’t happen like this. He knew what he heard. He knew what he saw. This was the truth, not whatever web of lies the couple spun. Sytry had to be under duress. Asmodeus was making him say those things!
“N…No..” He shook his head, reaching out for Sytry’s hands once more. Though this time, Asmodeus ‘protectively’ pulled his fiance back beside him. “No, no, Sytry…He’s using you! You know what happened that day, you know the truth! Please just listen to me! You have to believe me!” He was sobbing by this point, his composure completely lost. “D-Don’t let him…Don’t let him get away with it! Nai!!” It hurt too much to look at his brother now. So he clung to his dear friend instead. “N-Nai…Tell them. T-Tell them. D-Don’t let them do this. You know who did this to you. Please, just tell them!”
This had taken a turn that Sidonai wasn’t expecting. He was planning on confronting his father, freeing Sytry from his engagement, But that was all. This…This was too much, even for him. He knew Tamiel had been the one to stab him, but….was it really at his father’s orders? Or did Tamiel act alone? They did share bad blood, and he had been open with Ace about their past turmoil. Perhaps it was simply retaliation for speaking out about the abuse. Perhaps it wasn’t his father at all. But Lucifer on high, he couldn’t tell a crowd that. Not in front of his colleagues, his enemies, his poor grandfather.
“I….” he began, holding onto Mihr so he didn’t crumble. “I don’t know who did it. I didn’t look at their face. It was all so fast…Perhaps….Perhaps our inferences were wrong.”
Mihr shook his head, slowly backing up from his friend. “N-No…No, it’s not right. He was testing him. He played him, Nai. He had to see him heal you! He had to because Sytry is a–!”
Sathanus’ voice boomed over the prince’s. Oh, she knew what he was inferring. And she was horrified that Mihr would expose Sytry so casually. Though, his accusations were concerning. If Sytry healed the prince with light, then perhaps Asmodeus had seen him? Could he be blackmailing him?
No. This was her own prejudice getting in the way. Her own biases blinding her. She trusted Sytry to tell the truth. What would he gain from lying?
“Mihr, I understand these past months have been stressful–”
“I’m not insane, mother!!! I’m telling you the truth!!”
“Go home, Mihr. You’ve embarrassed me enough today. This is too important for your unresolved resentment.”
“NO! NO I WON’T!” Almost instantly, he conjured an orb into his hand. A dark, swirling orb. Poison. He released his ability. “I won’t let him have you Sytry!” Winding his arm up, he erratically threw the conjured poison in Asmodeus’s direction. Luckily the king seemed able to avoid a hit.
“That is ENOUGH!” Asmodeus’ voice bellowed. The wind from his own hands blew the prince to the ground, subduing him enough that the guards were able to restrain him. “You’re lucky you’re not being charged with treason, boy. Take him to Bir’alloth and ensure he does not escape.”
The guards swiftly removed a sobbing Mihr, who continued calling for his brother, begging and pleaded for him. And once he was gone, the room fell silent.
“Sidonai,” Asmodeus sneered, his visage dark and wrathful. “Was your brain injured as well? Pull another stunt like that, boy, and see what happens. Come here and do your damn job.”
Sidonai froze for a moment. Everything happened so quickly. He was second guessing himself. And Sytry…the way he destroyed poor Mihr. He had no fight in him. He simply answered, “Yes, father,” and returned to his position.
“Now let’s get the bloody treaty signed before there are any more outbursts.” Asmodeus allowed the nobles to continue their delegations, all the while squeezing Sytry’s hand a bit too tightly.
“That was too close for my liking,” he whispered harshly. “I’ll deal with you later.”
