Iskandor noted the way Citadel straightened his posture as Artorias approached, the ripple of tension in his brother’s frame was something that only someone who knew him quite well might catch. Iska's eyes narrowed, and then without hesitation he mirrored the shift, squaring his shoulders and lifting his head in solidarity. He'd not let Cit be alone out here in the world, and he wouldn't start now in the face of an alpha who could either help or ruin them.
Artorias spoke, his voice edged with concern and unease; unexpected for someone he'd only met twice now. Iskandor’s eyes flicked to Citadel, yet he held his tongue—his brother would take the lead in addressing the Hallows leader. It didn't matter to Iskandor, his sibling rivalry with his brother was reserved for playful moments, not when they were facing the world together. Iskandor would remain silent, trying to gauge the Lord of Cinder's reaction, trying to come up with a plan b, plan c, plan d all the while.
When Citadel posed the question—whether Artorias would grant them sanctuary—Iskandor’s tail gave the faintest twitch; tension he kept otherwise locked away. He maintained his composure, watching Artorias’ reaction intently, but there was no hiding the youthful hope glimmering in his gaze, clouded only by uncertainty. He was certain the older man would ask more questions, but would he attempt to subdue them by force? Send them back without a choice? Iskandor was thinking of the worst case scenarios, and the best: that Artorias would let them stay until they found their way. Until he could support Citadel while his brother figured out just what he wanted to do with his life. That… that was just another part of his promise.
Knight
