Chapter Text
Arresting Azar is a bit anti-climactic.
There’s a part of Cyno that was hoping for a fight. For a struggle. For some big throwdown, because after everything he’s been through, all the frustration, and betrayal, all the trekking across the desert, and the miles and miles of ancient ruins he was forced to traverse, the hours spent dealing with that damn Scribe, and especially after all the revelations, Cyno really just wants to beat the crap out of someone.
Unfortunately for him, Azar comes quietly. Cyno doesn’t even need to jab him with his spear.
He thinks about it. Because even as he puts Azar’s hands in restraints, the Grand Sage still radiates smug arrogance, so certain that this too shall pass, that his master plan of displacing Sumeru’s rightful Archon will still go off without a hitch, and that this will barely be considered a hiccup in the grand scheme of things.
Restraint wins out, however. Cyno is nothing if not disciplined.
He marches Azar from the Sanctuary of Surasthana to the Grand Sage’s office without succumbing to the urge to smack the smirk from the older man’s face – and without encountering another soul, much to Azar’s clear alarm. Alhaitham’s plan seems to be working perfectly, and serves to shake Azar’s confidence far more than violence probably would have. No doubt he expected a legion of guards to surround them and make it clear to Cyno that he could not get away with this. Instead, they make it to their destination in perfect solitude.
“Release Lesser Lord Kusanali from Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s Meditation Chamber,” Cyno orders, after dragging Azar to the device that Alhaitham described. “And turn on the Akasha terminal footage so that I can see what you’re doing. No false moves, Azar.”
Only now that they’re here, in his own sanctuary, without anyone to save him from having to concede to Cyno’s demands, does Azar’s confidence falter. He glowers, but he complies, hitting several buttons on the console that project images into the air. Cyno recognizes the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and sees his Archon suspended in its center. Hearteningly, she seems to be awake now. As Cyno watches, Azar taps a sequence of buttons until the barrier holding Lesser Lord Kusanali dissipates, leaving her to float free from her prison and drift down to the floor, like a leaf on the wind.
“Now we check to make certain you did as you were told, and that wasn’t a trick,” Cyno says, and grips Azar’s arm, jerking him away from the terminal. Before he can march the fallen sage back to the door, however, a red glow catches his eye. He frowns as he recognizes the Divine Knowledge Capsule – or at least a Divine Knowledge Capsule. He knows that there is more than the one, but for there to be one here, in the Grand Sage’s office, right in plain sight . . . it's bizarre to say the least.
Azar follows his gaze. Then he huffs out an ugly laugh. “Your plan will fall apart, Cyno. It’s already going less smoothly than you seem to believe.”
“Which is exactly why everything has gone exactly as Alhaitham predicted it would,” Cyno retorts.
Mentioning the scribe’s name makes the nasty smile on Azar’s face spread wider. “Ha. Funny you should mention the Scribe . . .”
He reaches out to hit a button on the terminal before Cyno can stop him. With a curse, Cyno tightens his grip on the sage’s arm and yanks him bodily away, too far to reach the device. Even as he does so, recorded Akasha footage is projected into the air. Footage from this very office, less than an hour earlier. Cyno recognizes the Traveler and Paimon, and Alhaitham . . . Alhaitham who is shaking, whose Akasha terminal is glowing red, whose eyes are glowing red.
No, no, no, no.
“Azar . . .” The voice that plays from the device is Alhaitham’s . . . but at the same time, not. It’s distorted, and feral, and suddenly Cyno can hear his own pulse pounding in his ears.
He watches as Alhaitham staggers forward. The Divine Knowledge Capsule falls from out of his cloak, to the floor. He presses his trembling hands against his forehead, like he’s trying to ward off a headache . . . but it doesn’t seem to help.
“Traitor . . . You traitor!” Alhaitham screams.
Azar speaks to him. Taunts him. Tells him that no god will lend him their power. His words enrage Alhaitham, whose eyes are still blazing red, and provokes him into attacking.
“Azar!”
“Cyno! Ah! Release me! Ergh! You’re going to break my arm!”
Cyno is barely aware of the Grand Sage struggling in his grip, as he watches the footage of his friend lunging wildly forward. His attack goes wide – he ends up crashing on the table. The table where Knowledge Capsules – regular green Knowledge Capsules – lay waiting to be uploaded to the Akasha. Cyno’s heart leaps into his throat. Because that has to be the whole point of this trick, right? It was Alhaitham’s task to ensure that their altered Knowledge Capsule ended up being entered into the Akasha. And he succeeded. The fact that the guards were diverted is a sure sign of that, right? Right?
He watches on, as Alhaitham tries to attack Azar again, but is blocked by two guards. Then another comes up from behind him, and brings his spear down against the back of the Scribe’s head.
Snap.
Azar howls.
Alhaitham hits the floor.
So does Azar, except he is only able to fall to his knees with Cyno still gripping his arm.
Cyno finally looks down and sees. Oh. Azar’s arm is . . . broken. He must have done that by squeezing too tightly. Stone faced, he turns his gaze back to the footage, and watches as Alhaitham is dragged out of the Grand Sage’s office, unconscious.
“It was a trick,” he tells Azar. “It was a trick and you fell for it.”
He doesn’t gloat about that, though. Alhaitham’s performance was scarily realistic. If Cyno hadn’t known what Alhaitham’s task was . . . if Alhaitham hadn’t obviously succeeded at his task, Cyno would have believed the worst had happened as well. Since he successfully took custody of Azar, in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, that’s evidence that Alhaitham’s plan worked. That what Alhaitham did right there was a trick.
Cyno tells himself that, again and again, as the day grinds on and they continue with the mission, but it isn’t until he sees Alhaitham, sane and well, that he truly feels at ease.
They reunite on their way to the Joururi Workshop, where Azar’s synthetic god has awakened – and is being faced down by their own god, and the Traveller.
“Cyno!” Alhaitham’s voice stops Cyno in his tracks, and he spins on his heel. He finds himself staring into eyes that are mercifully mostly green, the only red in his pupils, which were always red.
Relief washes over him, and before he can think better of it, he reaches out.
Confusion flits through Alhaitham’s expression only briefly, before he extends his hand to clasp Cyno’s in return.
“Is your head alright?” Cyno asks. Because even if that whole thing was an act, there’s no way that Alhaitham could have anticipated and countered that knock to the head. Right?
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything went according to plan on my end . . . yet somehow we still ended up here.” Alhaitham looks annoyed.
Cyno withdraws his hand – the hand that crushed the two bones in Azar’s forearm together less than half an hour ago – and falls in step beside Alhaitham. His relief is tempered with worry now – Alhaitham clearly intends to join the fight against the synthetic god. Neither of them have any idea how powerful it is, or exactly what they’ll be facing. Cyno knows that he should stop him. Taking a second hit to the head in such a short amount of time could easily kill him, or leave his brilliant mind damaged beyond repair.
Cyno can’t stop him though. Can’t even attempt to. Because he doesn’t know what they’ll be facing, but he knows that it’s big, and if they fail to beat it, Alhaitham will likely end up dead along with the rest of them anyway. He deserves the chance to fight for his fate, and Cyno doesn’t know if he’ll be able to come through this fight triumphant with or without him either way.
So, he’ll do his best to protect him where he can, and once it’s over, he’ll keep an eye on him, and keep it in mind that he can’t believe a word Alhaitham says. At least about his own wellbeing. The man’s too good an actor.
Thank you for checking out my newest Alhaitham fic! This one was inspired by a comment made by my friend Fain, who wished there were more fics about Alhaitham's exceptional acting skills, and his friends realizing just how good he is at fooling people. I'll be updating this one once a week until it's done. ^^