Varian's grip on the Emperor's wrist held for exactly as long as it took the Emperor to decide it was worth acknowledging.
"You," the Emperor said, mild interest crossing his face. "I did wonder when you'd surface again."
He didn't try to break the hold. He simply turned his hand, slow, almost courteous, and Varian's own arm bent backward at an angle that shouldn't have been possible without something tearing. Varian didn't cry out. He rode the motion, twisting his whole body with it rather than fighting it, and used the redirect to put himself bodily between the Emperor and Nyx instead of losing the grip entirely.
"Whatever you're here for," Varian said, voice level despite the strain visibly running through his shoulder, "it doesn't happen today."
"You've spent eleven years telling yourself you could still stop something like this." The Emperor's tone stayed pleasant, almost fond. "I admire the persistence. I don't think persistence is quite enough, old friend."
