Standing at the top of the stairs, he could hear the faint talking of Elara, and whoever was down there. He couldn't make out a single word, and he could feel his heart racing. This situation put him into the mindset he'd had when he had to argue with his father. Despite anything Cyne would be able to provide to keep that woman alive, it was entirely out of his hands. His rank as Prince didn't mean anything to Elara's council, and only meant a proper trade for the treaty to Elara herself. Here, in her realm, his rank amounted to war criminal at best. The only reason his rank would matter here would be if someone brought it up as a reason to show the position he held when the war was still fierce.<br/><br/>Listening carefully though, he could hear Elara slowly raising her voice. He also heard the undeniable name of his father, then his own. He was still stricken with concerns, but his curiosity lead him down the stairs. As he walked down he could feel the undeniable charms meant to disrupt his magic. Although he knew the charms well, the feeling of being without magic always made him feel... cold. Like the very fire of his own soul was being put out. Their own cells and conference rooms held the same charms. Politicians were much more unlikely to become unruly and aggressive when neutered as such.<br/><br/>With each step he took down the stairs, his magic was weakened and replaced by a certain amount of discomfort that nearly bordered on fear. The concerns of this being someone he knew were growing, he knew Elara would likely be pressured, or even just inclined to kill the human to show that she wasn't a soft queen. And being a treaty, he was hardly worth enough to stop the death of someone actively breaking the very same treaty. It wasn't until he heard the one who'd come through before he really felt his heart drop.<br/><br/>Sybil's teeth chattered from the cold, but she strained herself to keep the chill from showing. "Lord Keagan had nothing to do with this. But no treaty from you beasts will ever stop me from doing my duty to protect the crown. Even the threat of death doesn't stray me from my purpose. So if you want your..." Sybil's harsh tone trailed off as she saw another figure coming down the stairs. A figure she was very familiar with. The garb he wore wasn't his own, but the regal manner of his pose made it undeniable. "Prince Cyne, you're alive," she whispered, her demeanor fading away as she saw the solemn expression riddling his face. Very suddenly, she realized her appearance as she sat there before her Prince. Standing, she used one arm to cover her bosom, but she held herself upright. "My apologies for being caught my prince."<br/><br/>Cyne didn't know how to react when he realized that the woman standing behind the bars wasn't only someone he knew, but one of the only people he could truly call friend. With a solemn tone, he gazed at her face, the tears leaving dried streaks down her cheeks. "Sybil, what were you thinking breaking the treaty. Did my father send you?" The amount of time he'd spent with her let him know just from her expression that she'd done what he thought was best. Before she could speak, he raised his hand. "You should've known better Sybil. Did the others follow you?" With a resigned shake of her head, he sighed a breath of relief knowing that she alone risked her life. If the group of his protectors and closest friends were put to death before his very eyes... The thought lingered in the air as the two of them sat looking at each other.