Chapter Text
A very long silence.
Then, “You wanted to know,” Cyno said suddenly, still not looking at him, “Why I hate your plans?”
For a moment, Alhaitham weighed how to respond—it was, truthfully, one of the few things that had avoided his analysis, as what he had initially assumed to be the reasons had turned out to be incorrect. But on the other, prying and sentimental conversations were two things he was completely averse to, even if it was Cyno—or maybe especially if it was. He wasn’t sure what the name for what they had was, but he was never going to risk damaging it; he may have made a name for himself not caring what others thought, but even he knew that an opinion as hard won as General Mahamatra’s was worth keeping.
In the end, Cyno continued anyway, “It’s because I’m afraid.”
Alhaitham blinked, turning to look at him in bewilderment—he couldn’t imagine what any of his actions could do to cause the General Mahamatra himself fear. “Afraid?” He asked, despite his better judgement.
Once again, Cyno was quiet for a very long time, but slowly, “Ever since the plan to free Lord Kusanali,” He explained, tone as carefully level as it always was, but this time with a hint of something more, “It wouldn’t stop bothering me. Your actions regarding the Hivemind incident didn’t help either.”
Alhaitham frowned. Both those plans had gone off perfectly—he couldn’t fathom what would be bothering Cyno about them. “How do you mean?” His usual sense was screaming at him to cut loose and walk away, but… But he had caused Cyno a great deal of extra work recently. He owned him this conversation, at least. He owed him to listen.
Finally, Cyno turned to look at him, folding his arms and giving one of those disappointed stares that so usually accompanied a scolding. “You’re smart enough that things are normally easy for you, you can think ahead of everyone else. So you normally just brazenly walk into things, confident of victory.” A deep, weary sigh, “But that’s just it. You don’t know what it’s like to fail.”
“I don’t fail.”
The faintest of chuckles. “And there’s that pride.” Reaching up, Cyno pulled his headdress low over his eyes like a shield. “Let me put it like this; I’m afraid that one day, you’re going to meet your match without realising it.” Deadly serious scarlet eyes raised to meet his again, “And that by the time I make it there to pick up the pieces, it will already be too late.”
Alhaitham blinked at him a few times, trying to process the implications of his words. Cyno waited for a few moments, then sighed again, shaking his head. “Just… Don’t forget you’re not invincible. I’d rather not be the one handling your final arrangements.”
He sounded almost embarrassed, and it was enough to knock Alhaitham out of his bewilderment. Now it made sense. Cyno was concerned—afraid—that he might get himself killed. It felt ridiculous and yet… Made perfect sense.
‘Cyno sees himself as the protector of the whole Akademiya—at least of those who follow the rules,’ Tighnari had reminded him at one of those card nights Kaveh and Cyno had forced him into going to, ‘And aren’t you part of the Akademiya, whether as Acting Grand Sage or Scribe?’
For once in his life, he didn’t know what to do with this information.
So, he straightened his shoulders, folded his arms, looked the General Mahamatra right back in the eye and said, “How preposterous. I have no plans to die any time soon.”
Cyno did not rise to his challenge, merely shaking his head again. “… I’ll see you back at the Akademiya.” He murmured, hiding his eyes behind his cowl again—and then, just as swiftly and silently as usual, he was gone—leaving Alhaitham to desperately try and pretend the conversation never happened.