Chapter Text
“Cahir.” The Emperor stepped into his room, he was dressed simply and his guards fell away as the door shut behind him. It was a show of trust that Cahir did not take for granted and he leaned forward from his sitting spot with the intent to take knee- his leg protested fiercely at his first attempt and in a gut clenching moment he was being urged to his feet with hands he’d once never thought would deign to touch him.
“Did the negotiations go well, my liege?” Once he would have been at the Emperor’s side, listening for the words unsaid around the tables. Now? Now he sat alone, left behind like a widow awaiting her husband’s impossible return from war. Something in the Emperor’s eyes softened. Cahir refused to tremble.
“The Witchers have agreed to a marriage.”
“That’s wonderful!” Truly it was good news, a secure border and the promise of aid in the event that Cintra was no longer content with their priests in her lands. “Who will we be sending? Alietta of Mettina is of an age and her father has been pushing for rank since before the Usurper took the throne.” He froze as a burning hand was laid on his upper arm. He wished to fall to his knees, if only to feel worthy of such a display. Something twisted in his gut though, a wriggling monstrosity that whispered what he would soon know to be true.
“We will be sending you, Cahir.” His leg buckled but, miraculously, he did not fall. His Emperor, his salvation, guided him into the chair and deigned to take a knee in front of Cahir. Unworthy . “You are my most trusted, my most loyal, I cannot send another in this agreement for I know not what they would do. They would not stay true” He nodded, unable to look away from the man who had knelt for him. Who knelt for no one. “You know that what is necessary is not always desirable.” Pain, a willing sacrifice to save another. “You, above all others, would ensure that this treaty held. You would not come to harm, any harm bestowed upon you would be a breach of terms and cause for war. I have even arranged that the marriage be no lower than a member of the White Wolf’s own council. This is not a punishment, this is an honor.”
An honor. A task only one can carry.
“You have served me faithfully for eight long years. You have saved my life and devoted yourself wholly.” Too hot hands took his own, clasped like a lover despite the impossibility of it. “Would you serve me in this as well?”
“Is it a choice?” His voice wavered though only to his own ears. Emhyr, still caressing his knuckles, smiled. No one else has seen this sight. No one else will.
“Of course.” His Emperor said.
“Yes, I’ll do it. What are the arrangements?” Better to know what to expect than you walk in blindly like a lamb to slaughter.
“You’ll leave midday tomorrow, a guard of twenty will attend with you and ten will stay no less than a fortnight to ensure your safety. Should something happen in that time you will be removed from the North and returned here, to me.”
“And after?”
“Witchers haven’t the patience to wait so long if they meant you harm. You will have a pendant though, Fringilla is crafting it now, should it break we will receive the distress signal.” The Emperor stood. “The marriage itself will happen in accordance with Witcher customs- I was able to insist on some alterations.”
“Alterations?” Negotiations were to be expected in any contract, particularly in a marriage contract, but the word sounded strange on Emhyr’s lips.
“They wanted a public coupling but it has been struck from all talks.”
His breath caught and the words, once they came, were hopelessly grateful, “Thank you.”
“I would not have you humiliated no more than I would have you harmed.” Emhyr pet his curls and stepped away. Humiliated. Yes, he supposed it would be such to be unable to take his wife in any traditional sense, his leg and back injuries far too extensive to raise a sword properly, much less couple in the way expected of a marriage bed.
“May I see my sisters before I go? Even if it’s only through scrying I-“ it was much to ask in the wake of preparations that needed to be done. Vicovaro was so far away.
“Of course. Wash and I’ll have Fringilla come to you this evening once all has been put into place.”
“Thank you, I can’t repay this debt.” A single finger landed on his jaw and closed his mouth before he could say more.
“Rest. Your service is enough.”
The bath water could not rid him of the tension curling around his spine and contracting his leg and he pulled himself from the water with a sigh. Cahir dressed in pants and a robe and he was attempting to stretch the aches away when Fringilla entered his quarters without so much as a knock.
“I’ve brewed you more potions.” The clear vials were numerous and she laid the leather bag, with its many tiers and compartments, on his bed. “There are enough vials to last you the year at a conservative rate. The trial period will end then and you should be allowed to meet with us once more.” His shock must have shown clearly on his face because the sorceress smiled.
“You thought that the White Flame would surrender you to the Barbarian’s mercy completely? He cares for you, for us. You should not doubt him.”
“It is not with him that my doubts lay.” Indeed the number of vials would manage his pain for well into the year so long as he was smart about their usage. Another knock at the door startled him.
“Come in?”
His sisters, the three of them who were pleased to claim his acquaintance in polite company and did not fear the travel, piled into the room. He’d not laid eyes on them in nearly two years - since before he had become broken.
Cassie, who had been nine last he saw and was as high as his chest now, threw herself at him. Her arms wound tight around his middle and he just barely restrained a wounded noise as pain shot down his spine and leg.
“Little sister, you’re very aggressive.” He cupped the back of her head and smiled, “I’ve missed you as well.” She eased the pressure of her hug and tipped her head back, there were tears at the edges of her eyes. Rhia and Seren were not far behind but were more reserved in their affection. Rhia knew more than most about the extent of his injuries and she ruffled his hair as big sisters were to do.
He felt like he was being choked by the emotions that welled in his chest. His older sister’s eyes were too knowing. This would be the last time they saw each other. She knew that. He did too. There was no use in acknowledging such a depressing fact aloud.
“We can’t stay as long as we would like, I know that many things must be done by tomorrow.” They pulled away and all clambered into the big bed like children. Half of them were.
Seren was nearly old enough to wed, the thought came swift and sudden. His hands shook at the idea of her in his place, but she would not suffer what he would. There was solace to be found in that. Solace had to be found somewhere.. She took his hand and pressed a chain into the palm with gentle insistence.
It was his mother’s, her “worry pendant” His father called it fondly in his youth for the way she would clasp it and run her thumb over and over until there was a groove in the middle of the simple pendant. “What?”
“Take it.” Seren said.
Rhia nodded. “You’ll need it more than us.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say okay and that you’ll write to us.” If they’ll allow it.
He squeezed her hands, “Of course I will.”
“Do you know who you’re to marry?” Little Cassie asked him, surely dreaming of fairytale knights and weddings full of flowers. Cahir hadn’t the heart to shatter her lies.
“No, but I’m sure that she will be a good match for me. The White Flame would not settle for less.” Surely he would not settle for less after negotiating for so long.
“Will it be a Witcher?” Seren asked.
“There are no women Witchers.” Cassie replied as if she knew all the secrets of the universe. “Everyone knows that.” One of the Wolf’s own council. But there are no female Witchers. No . Surely not.
“Enough about me, tell me about Vicovaro.”
And so went the evening, with his favorite sisters pressed against his sides as they hadn’t been in many years and gossiping about every stablehand in the country while descending into laughter. It was far from an evening preceding a gallows walk.
So did he hope.
The next day Cahir stood before an open portal, clean shaven and freshly bathed -though he nearly sweating beneath his cloak- there was no reason to delay any longer. His mother’s pendant hung around his neck, tucked beneath the black and gold tunic they had dressed him in and the pendant from Fringilla hung just above that one. The Emperor himself stood next to Cahir.
“It will be well.” He knew no more then, under the midday autumn sun, than he had the previous evening. “Simply serve me as you would here, there is no shame in doing such. You are my most honored and my most trusted, Cahir. Hold your head high.” Warmth bloomed in his chest, his breath came easier. It is your duty and your honor.
He nodded and stepped through the portal with his one and only Emperor at his side.