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seancekitsch · 10 months

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But what if your Bodyguard! AU gets angsty bc Emhyr sends Cahir to raid caravans instead of guarding his lovely Viscountess? What then?

ok for those of you that are new i recommend reading my bodyguard au! drabble series and buckling in because i play god when it comes to mashing book and show canon together to make sense of both versions of a character just to make an au

“Won’t you say goodbye to me?” Cahir begs, his third time circling the stool you keep moving around to refuse to meet his gaze.

“Won’t you die like all the rest?” you spit back at him.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

He’s right, it’s not. But these raiding parties are a death trap and you refuse to let Cahir see the tears in your eyes.

“Leave and find your life’s adventures and get back in the Emperors stupid good graces and be his doting little lapdog and I’ll find myself a boring husband before a fortnight is out and live my life of servitude to him,” you hiss, finally stopping in your running and letting Cahir come crashing into you.

“If that’s what you wish,” Cahir says, barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches as he leans in, almost as if he’ll try to kiss the side of your head or your shoulder, but he doesn’t.

He leaves, and you break down into your tears, collapsing onto you vanity.

Hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks. You refuse to leave your apartments, your bedroom and your sitting parlor. You don’t attend feasts, you don’t attend parties. Your ladies in waiting, now down to two, flit in and out of the rooms but never stay for long. Granted, they never did when Cahir was here either, but now it seems moreso that they’re avoiding you. As far as you know, Cahir is dead in a forest and so are you. Even your good friend the Count of Magne calling upon you doesn’t shake your woe. You don’t care who knows of your deep sadness since your bodyguard was sent away, all gossip immediately less important than the ring of yours that Cahir wore on his chain the night he left. All that mattered was that ring and whatever mass grave it would end up in. Or honestly, whatever trash heap Cahir threw it in after you were so cold to him.

You hear whispers of unrest in Thanedd, and barely bat an eye. Who cares? They’ll either come for the Nilfgaardian vassals or they won’t. All balls and parties stop, and everyone freezes to prepare for battle for a moment. You barely notice, you haven’t been past your balcony since your bodyguard left and all of the noise of the castle only drowns itself out in your wine and your baths. Your absence is duly noted and gossip has spread but you couldn’t give a fuck about your status at parties or the state of your region. You almost hope the northern armies come for you first, one of the leaders of a Northernmost vassal. Your head might look cute on a pike, at least if they let you style your hair and makeup first, you think, you hope they at least have that dignity. You barely dwell on it, you just let yourself go numb to it all.

“They’ve retreated over the Yaruga,” your lady recalls, combing your hair while you bathe.

“Great,” you sigh, not hiding the fact that you don’t care.

“Great? We lost,” she insists, a bit rougher in her combing in her annoyance at your response.

“Let them all kill each other,” you suppose, picking up your flagon and drawing it to your lips.

“How dare you?” she speaks out of turn, “Your future husband, the future Viscount of this region may be out there.”

You chug, letting you head tilt all the way back.

“Trust me, I know he is.”

You’re shaken from your haze by a rock hitting your window. Not quite asleep, not quite awake; you haven’t slept well in a while. You hear it, and you refuse to turn over. There’s nothing that could be important enough, not unless your bodyguard came through your doorway again to stand at his post just to the left of it.

But the rocks keep coming, and coming. And they get bigger. You throw on your blue dressing gown, never mind that it was Cahir’s favorite, and go to the window intent on telling whoever it is to fuck off.

You’re greeted by the faces of a woman, short haired with a quiver of arrows at her back, and a man, a long haired bard with a lute on his hip.

“Let a tired woman sleep,” you shout, ready to close your window again.

“We have a message! A message of true love!” the bard shouts.

“True love is dead,” you spit, and slam the window shut. The largest rock yet comes sailing into the window, this time cracking it. Spiderwebs of broken glass spread in its wake.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” you shout as you throw the now broken window back open, only to be greeted by the face of your (ex?) lover and bodyguard among the intruders.

“We weren’t lying!” the woman shouts back. She wasn’t. He’s here and he’s alive, he came back for you just like he said. White flame be damned, what’s become of you in this time though? Would he not think you kept true to your word and wed someone else?

“Cahir,” you whisper, but it’s as if even in the darkness he can see your lips form around his name.

“My Viscountess, I’ve come against your wishes,” He shouts, his grin wide enough to be seen from a distance. You smile, but only briefly, and then you leave the window.

Cahir wonders for a moment if you’ve gone to alert other guards, if you have a new bodyguard, or…. He doesn’t think about it. He only motions for his two new friends to run if need be, and positions himself to draw a sword. You don’t return to the window.

“Stupid idea, really,” Cahir admits, and motions to them to leave.

“At least you tried,” Milva says, slightly cringing as she does.

“Perhaps this will hurt less after some ale and we make money off of the song I write about—“

The bard is cut off by another voice.

“Really? You’re leaving again?”

Cahir turns to face the Viscountess that’s plagued every dream of his since he left, the woman who practically wished him dead two months ago, the woman he would marry tonight if she let him. You’re in only your dressing gown and those damned riding boots, the ones with his laces in them. You drive him insane, even now.

“You vile, crazed woman that’s what you wanted!” he answers, the argument he walked away from when he left picking right back up.

“No it’s— I—“ you look shocked, for maybe the first time in all the time he’s known you, “Well, If you leave again you better make sure we both die. I wished it. I wished us both dead the last time.”

Your quivering lip, even in the moonlight, tells him all he needs to know. He quickly crosses the distance between the two of you, cupping your cheek in his warm palm while the other hand comes around your waist. Like muscle memory, your arms wind their way across his back like ivy on a tower.

“Who says we have to die?” He asks, and your eyes get a little watery. He’s never actually seen you cry, not like this. He decides he hates it.

“Well, if I couldn’t have you…” you trail off, not wanting to really admit what little you’d been up to.

“You have me. Quit frowning and pack a bag,” He orders, “And put some clothes on. As your bodyguard I shouldn’t be letting you out looking like such a scandal.”

You lean into him, not yet ready to let go.

“But this is your favorite.”

“So it is. Throw it in the bag.”

#cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach x reader #cahir x reader

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primordialsoundmeditation · 4 months

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Cahir Castle

Love Ireland

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benalias · 3 months

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So I'm currently reading the last Witcher book and I need to rant about it.

Heavy spoilers for the Witcher, Lady of the Lake under the cut:

So I got to the part of the book where Geralt and his company arrive at Stygga castle to rescue Ciri from Vilgefortz. And I'm like, ok someone's gonna die, they're not all gonna make it out alive. And I'm mentally preparing myself for that, as one does.

And then Milva, who is my favourite character in the entire series, dies first!? So I'm sad and shocked but can't react properly because I read on the train on my way to work, so I swallow those feelings and keep reading.

Then - boom - cahir faces fucking bonhart. For a second I delude myself and think "maybe cahir's gonna be the one to beat him" but no. Cahir dies.

It cuts back to Ciri and Angoulême and I have a bad feeling about Angoulême's wound too. I do not even dare to hope this time. Angoulême dies.

So Regis is left. And I'm like, he'll be the one who survives this. Like, he's a vampire, he has some cool abilities, nothing could really harm him so far. And then - you guessed it - HE DIES TOO????

So now no one (!!) from Geralt's company is left. And I'm really sad about this cause I enjoyed the chapters where we got to travel with them so much. And they all grew together and became actual friends and-

So bottom line is Vilgefortz is the root of all evil.

I haven't finished the book completely yet but I'm just hoping no more people die (naive, I know).

#the witcher #the witcher books #lady of the lake #milva barring #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #angoulême #emiel regis

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mantra4ia · 9 months

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I didn't think it was possible for an adaptation to break my fandom heart, however

I just finished season 3 of the Witcher on Netflix

and I cannot yet put into words how disheartened I feel about it except to say 1) bigger in scale doesn't always mean better in quality and 2) I feel like 90% of the commentary in "the making of season 3" is hype.

In my opinion, a majority of the dialogue in this season is painful no matter how hard the actors try to deliver them sincerely and the people who are trying to upsell how faithful it is to the books are clearly omitting much context of the books. I do not feel like reliving the dialogue to site a litany of grievance, but "you'd be dead already" was beaten to death, as was "never lost, always found." The scripting pen was a lot more clever in the days of death and destiny circa season 1. Not just clever, but cutting, sassy even in the midst of purposeful crudeness, artful, and complex. It didn't need to spell things out for you and could let you stumble into unraveling meaning whereas this season clocked you over the head. And it wasn't just the actual lines on the page, but the timing of their delivery — for example the monologues in combat — that makes a bad situation go from rough to rags. Cahir ("my life is yours" speech) and Vilgefortz ("the hardest part was holding back") have some of the worst offending instances. That, and when they threw in a "he's having a heart attack" medical drama one liner in the midst of battle on the Isle of Thanedd, I wanted to 🤦 smack a skull.

The set dressing, when it's not overwhelming —the outlandishness of Redania, back to back with the bombastic excesses of mages on the Isle hardly gives you a moment to discern the differences, it seems homogeneously over the top — makes be sad (footnote: random bowls of apples in hallways of an academy where people can conjure magical meals at will is just sort of silly in a very 90s movie, castle interior stereotype way). I don't think that one set or scenic shot caught my eye in a memorable way, and considering we saw Shaerrawedd this season that's a shame. Yarpen's tiny house is one of my few exceptions of well designed spaces. We also could have used more contrast in design by seeing life/ stylistic choices within the empire — given that the story from here on goes into the war trenches —and so it is disappointing that the few shots we get of Nilfgaard center around an underwhelming Emyhr as opposed to culture, mentality, and actual sense of the opposition and the scale of them.

Also, there were a few props that made me want to shut off my television in terms of quality on camera. Example: the first time we see Milva draw her bow. That poor, ridiculous bow that is neither a good example from text or a nod to any archers.

The fights do not all have their own distinct style as the commentary suggests, and the ones that do have distinguishable flare are filled with artful camera work for the sake of itself; as opposed to adding to the fight it was often distracting. There were also excessive cuts at various camera angles that were superfluous, as evidenced in the walk up leading to Geralt vs Vilgefortz. Two fight sequences were a joy to watch: the Rats escape and one of the opening sequences where Geralt confronts the bounty hunters and we see him walk away through the eyes of the man that he just beheaded as the skull hits the ground. It was an interesting stylistic choice with memorable impact. Nothing that hits like Blaviken combat, but a highlight.

The monster design (the flesh monster and others) makes me miserable, the rendering of which take me out of the fights built around them. Gone are the days of the Stryga and the Bruxa.

Not concluding the the first or the second act of season 3 with the siege of Aretuza and the destruction of Tor Lara was a mistake of timing. Following the battle, the subsequent desert scenes (and Brokilon to some extent) dragged on. Even weird, trippy cameos couldn't save them. Freya/Ciri has some decent beats of progressive desperation descending into madness leading up to finding "little horse" and confronting the demons of her psyche, but the cutting and the placement of the desert sequence does it no favors.

Speaking further on Aretuza, the battle of mages and scoia'tal missed a lot of moments. If we were going to spend precious screen time dividing the familial core four (Yen/Jaskier/Geralt/Ciri) so that Yen can go back for Tissaia— knowing that very soon in the plot it will be divided again when Ciri is portalled and someone is captured by Vilgefortz — then the battle better be worth it. It wasn't entirely. The conflict opened with a very "for the stage" kind of choreography with the assembly of mages. The conflict ramped up with dimeritium arrows (kinda predictable) and elven guts, and then ended on a strange note with Alzur's Thunder, an interesting nod to game play with 50/50 execution on screen. Given that this season likes narrative voiceovers, there was a lot they could have done with Alzur's Thunder in terms of sound, flashbacks, interior cuts of Tor Lara, narration, or even spell work of Yennefer being able to enter Tissaia's mind, to nicely harken back to the themes of control and deepest fears, when Tissaia's spell casting and loss of control parallels Yennefer's early years (lightning in a bottle), and each character comes full circle in pulling chaos back from the edge. But those themes are overshadowed by flash and bang. The opportunity for a contrasting small / personal moment with Yennefer and Tissaia amidst the larger battle is lost.

I'm sorry, but when LSH says this season is very character driven, I don't know what final cut she's watching. It feels like we're racing through plot points A-Z while nearly none of the character relationships get time to breath and impart their emotional beats. Spoiler alert: I should feel devastated when Vilgefortz beats Geralt, literally breaks him, but I don't. I should feel bad when Tissaia dies, I don't. They're trying to rush feelings between Triss and Istredd, Fringilla and Francesa, that I really can't be bothered about because there are so many characters given side quests that no one really gets their due. Least among them in the supporting cast Phillipa, which has animosity with Tissaia that doesn't land, a relationship with Dijkstra that doesn't land, a sidepiece that doesn't land, and is (apart from some interesting wardrobe, hair and makeup choices) reduced to a presence that provides forewarning about Lydia and Vilgefortz. And least among the main cast Geralt, who spends a whole lot of screen time in passive action exuding quiet contempt for other characters. Which is a shame, because if this truly is the last time we see Henry as Geralt, they should have given this man free reign to burn the barn down.

One shining note: I truly appreciate that we bookend this season with narration from Yennefer and, to a lesser extent, Geralt. It is a nice, if slightly less eloquent, homage to the corresponding letters in the novels (pieced together from multiple books). I would have loved far more for each episode to make some use of narration, as a kind of through-thread for this season, in order to get equal turns from Ciri and Jaskier. Ciri has some great internal dialogue of things that she wishes she could say to Yennefer but doesn't before their family splits apart (unspoken moments of respect, adoration, and love that get quickly summarized by ice skating montages). Ans Jaskier is quite often the "unreliable" narrator in sections of the novels, which flashes backwards and forwards from his slightly mythologized autobiography as a world famous bard. Both of them really needed their turn in this season to be an overarching voice.

This season hurts. I'm glad if you are a Witcher / Sapkowski fan and you enjoyed yourself in season 3. But it really let me down, the creative direction and didn't seem to come together into a cohesive tone (it couldn't strike the balance between humor and gravitas), vision, or unfolding of the story.

I don't know if I can bring myself to rewatch this season a second time with fresh eyes and hope for the best. But I will miss Henry Cavill, and have much respect for cast and crew.

#Netflix: the Witcher #the witcher season 3 #witcher reaction'd #the witcher Netflix spoilers #fail #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #lauren hissrich

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bookcalanthedaily · 7 months

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so... what if calanthe had these two boys?

ceran dagorad of cintra, calanthe's golden boy.

he would have been an excellent swordsman, a gallant knight, a kind and caring prince.

i hc he would have been 2-3 years younger than pavetta, so 6 years old when roegner died, 11 when pavetta married duny, 22 at the time of the fall of cintra.

he would have bravely fought by his mother's side during the battle of marnadal and carried the wounded calanthe back to the castle. he would have helped her lead the defence of the castle from her deathbed and helped with the evacuation of ciri.

he would have either been killed by cahir like the rest of the knights that escorted ciri, or he would have been the only one to survive, and then lead the resistance together with vissegerd.

coram III of cintra, calanthe's little lion.

a sweet little boy of failing health, born small and premature.

i hc he would have been 6 years younger than pavetta. 4 years old when their father died, 9 when pavetta married duny, 14 at the time of his death.

i think his poor health would prompt calanthe to send him often to skellige, following her marriage to eist. he would often accompany pavetta during her visits to the isles, clinging to her dress. calanthe hoped that the climate of skellige would help him more than the palace in cintra did, and that ultimately led to his death, for he too was aboard the ship when the storm hit, and died with his older sister.

alternatively, he would have been left by pavetta ashore, asked to tend to and care for ciri, but that would lead to his death of pneumonia just two years later. a sweet child, doomed by the narrative just as pavetta was.

#oc ceran #oc coram #yeaaah i think i will be talking about them more in the future so #they get their own tags #i love my boys and i did say i wanted to in the future bring more of my ocs on this blog #the possitive reception of malina gave me the strenght lmaoo

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moonlightpirate · 9 months

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Law of Destiny

Chapter 1: Stuck in Cintra

One of the princesses of Redania has been asked to try to form an alliance. What could go wrong?

It's finally here @wildyonderwillows @chickensarentcheap @tastyfiddle hope you guys enjoy

AO3 here fic also below! Feedback always welcome guys!

Masterlist

Ilaria was one of the three princesses of Redania who by the strong suggestion of Dijkstra, her fathers royal advisor and informant, was currently staying in Cintra. He had told her father that an alliance with Emperor Emhyr would be very beneficial and of all the royal children to send on this mission he felt that she was the one most likely to succeed in the task. Ilaria was beginning to worry since she had been in Cintra for nearly a month and Emhyr hadn’t even seemed to notice she was even in the castle since he hadn’t even spoken one word to her. Thankfully Cahir, one of Emhyrs knights, had been there to welcome her and he always made sure she was comfortable and had food. The first few weeks she spent mindlessly wandering the castle simply enjoying her freedom from having to constantly look after her younger brother, Radovid. But it didn't take her long to grow bored and begin to wander around outside of the castle. Not that much happened most days; it felt more like a fort with the army mostly just preparing for the next battle. Ilaria spent most days just watching the army train from afar while reading a book that she had taken from the massive library in the palace. When he wasn't busy Cahir tried to keep her company, which she was thankful for but he didn’t often have free time. After one particularly lonely week she pondered writing home and begging them to let her return, seeing as Emhyr still hadn't said one word to her and it didn't seem that would change any time soon. Her mind was changed the day she heard a scream from the practice grounds. She had been sitting on the ground immersed in a book when she heard it. Quickly Ilaria jumped up off the ground and ran towards the noise.

"What's happened?" She shouted as she saw Cahir.

"Man's been injured. Not much you can do. It isn't too serious though. I'm sure he will be fine in a few days." Cahir replied, standing in front of her trying to keep her from getting any closer.

"May I take a look anyways? I've helped our healer at home so I have some basic knowledge. Maybe I can help him heal sooner." Ilaria pleaded.

Cahir looked her up and down pondering if what she said was true. But knowing that they didn't currently have any form of a healer he knew whatever she could do was probably better than nothing. He nodded and stepped aside. Ilaria moved past Cahir and found her way towards where the man sat on the ground. She noticed there was a bloody blade on the grass not far from where he sat. A few men looked a bit nervous and others were still training like nothing happened. Gently she approached the man observing him looking for the wound. The only place she noticed blood on him was on his sleeve and figured the wound must be on his arm.

"Are you able to remove your shirt so I can look at your injury better?" Ilaria inquired, as she kneeled down in front of him.

The man stared up at the strange girl before nodding and carefully removing his shirt, clearly wincing in pain. Ilaria examined his arm gently, touching it and squeezing it to see the extent of the damage. Cahir hovered over her watching her with a curious look on his face.

"The wound is thankfully not too deep. Does anyone have a cloth or something I can bind it with? I simply just need to stop the bleeding.".

"Would this work?" A man inquired as he stepped up and handed her a long strip of cloth that looked as if it was ripped off of a shirt.

"Yes, that should work, thank you." Ilaria smiled up at the man taking the cloth from him.

She went to work covering the wound making sure the cloth was tight enough to stop the bleeding but not be uncomfortable. Once she was satisfied she stood up, "Okay please keep the wound covered at least for today and I'd recommend also taking it easy for today.".

The soldier nodded and looked up at Cahir as if seeking his approval.

"Go and rest but find a way to make yourself useful at least even if it means cleaning something." Cahir sighed.

"Thank you sir. Also thank you Ma'am." The soldier responded meekly walking off.

Ilaria smiled at the soldier before walking away herself in the opposite direction. She got just outside of the training grounds when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around she was surprised to see Cahir.

"Thank you for what you did back there. Though I was wondering if we needed you to heal a soldier again if you would be willing to help. Fringilla was our last healer and…..well….she's dead. We haven't had anyone to care for the men since. I know it would be appreciated." Cahir inquired.

" I would love to. Would be better than sitting around all day doing nothing." Ilaria replied with a smile.

After that day Ilaria spent her days near the training ground in case someone got injured. It had now been two months of her being in Cintra and she still didn't think Emhyr had noticed her presence there. But she was glad she was no longer just aimlessly wandering around anymore so she didn't really mind. But one morning while her and Cahir were enjoying breakfast a soldier barged in.

"Ma'am… sir. A soldier has been seriously injured. He needs urgent care." He gasped, clearly out of breath from running.

"Oh no! I'll be right out." Ilaria exclaimed, jumping up.

Quickly she ran upstairs to gather an abandoned medical kit that Cahir had found for her. As she ran back down the stairs she swore she saw Emhyr in the corner of her eye but she knew she didn't have time to stop and figured he probably hadn't noticed her anyways. Cahir had waited for her by the doors and together they both rushed out to the training grounds where they could hear screams of agony.

******

Emhyr had stepped outside of his room when he saw a girl with long blonde hair rush past him and down the stairs. Curious as to who this mysterious girl was and where she was going, he decided to follow her down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs he saw Cahir waiting for her and watched as they both rushed out the door. Whoever this girl was, Cahir seemed to know her which made him even more curious since he never mentioned her anytime they had talked. As he stepped out the door he heard a wail of someone in pain and assumed that's where they were heading. As Emhyr followed the screams to the training ground he saw the girl on the ground with her long blonde hair pulled back from her face. She was so focused on what she was doing to the man's leg that she didn't seem to notice anyone around her. Cahir immediately noticed Emhyr and came over to him.

"Your highness. What brings you here?".

"Who is this girl Cahir?" Emhyr inquired, staring at her intently.

"Sir?" Cahir looked at Emhyr incredulously.

"Who is she? Why is she here?" Emhyr repeated, as the soldier let out a scream as she took her needle and thread to his wound causing blood to spurt from it.

"She is Princess Ilaria from Redania. They were seeking to make an alliance I believe." Cahir responded.

He looked over at Emhyr who hadn't taken his eyes off of her wondering what he was thinking about. After several minutes Ilaria finished what she was doing and stood up using a nearby rag to wipe the blood from her hands.

"Right, I need some men to carry him inside and take him to my room. I want to keep an eye on him tonight to make sure these wounds heal properly." Ilaria stated, putting her hands on her hips looking at the men sternly.

"There is no need for that. There's plenty of rooms in the castle. I know just the room to take him." Emhyr interjected.

Ilaria jumped slightly at the strange voice and turned around facing Emhyr.

"Where may that be? I would like to keep a close eye on him." Ilaria retorted.

Emhyr lifted an eyebrow before he signaled to his men to help pick the man off the ground and carry him inside the castle. Ilaria stared in shock as she watched the men pick the soldier up without question and follow Emhyr back towards the castle. She looked over at Cahir bewildered. He nodded in sympathy before tilting his head signaling they needed to follow. Sighing she quickly made her way out the door and after Emhyr as she wondered what it was he was up to. Once in the castle he had the men drop the injured soldier in a room that was eerily right next to Ilarias leaving her curious as to how he knew she was staying there since he never acknowledged her presence.

"Will this do?" He inquired, turning to face her.

"Of course. Thank you." She curtsied before walking past him into the room.

Cahir looked over at Emhyr trying to judge his reaction. But was surprised when he just turned and went about his day gesturing for him to follow.

*******************

It was late that night when Emhyr woke up hearing noises he wasn't used to especially this time of night. Wondering if it was Ilaria, he decided to get up and check it out. He slowly made his way down stairs following the strange noises into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he saw Ilaria standing there in a white nightgown in front of the stove with her back to him. He noticed her long wavy hair came down to her mid back. He could hear her humming a song and realized he had heard that same humming before many times in the past few months. Emhyr felt foolish that he hadn't noticed her sooner. But he had been so busy that most days he didn't even leave the war room or the library to have even noticed someone else in the castle.

"May I ask what you are doing?" He finally asked, causing her to jump.

"Oh! The soldier woke up and was hungry. Figured I would make him a broth." She responded.

"How is he doing?" Emhyr inquired.

"Seems to be fine. He hasn't gotten a fever yet, which is good. There are no signs of bleeding or well further bleeding. When I move his leg it moves just fine thankfully. So I think he will recover." Ilaria rambled.

"Excellent. I do thank you for all your hard work. Though why are you doing all this for my men?" Emhyr commented.

"Because they needed help and I was able to do it." Ilaria explained.

"But you are a princess. Seems like it would be below you." He remarked.

Ilaria turned off the broth and faced him. She felt like he was testing her. But for what reason she wasn't really sure.

"Growing up I was always told that a princesses duty was to help those in need. No matter their status. That includes these soldiers. So no, I don't feel it is below me." Ilaria retorted.

Emhyr cocked his eyebrow at her as she turned and walked away from him broth in hand. He stood in the kitchen for a bit pondering the interaction. There was something about this woman that had him curious and he wasn't sure what it was or why. Slowly he made his way back upstairs and to where she was. He stood in the doorway watching her gently feeding the soldier small spoonfuls of the broth. He could hear her asking the soldiers lots of questions about his pain and other various things about his injury. After a bit she turned her head and saw Emhyr standing there watching her. She tried not to blush as she finished feeding the soldier. Once he was fed and she was content that he was asleep she got up and approached Emhyr.

"It is late, you need sleep." Emhyr stated.

"I'm fine but I do appreciate the concern. I want to make sure he is okay." Ilaria remarked.

She all of a sudden herself staring up into his dark blue eyes. They looked so soft and caring in this light. He wasn't that much taller than her but she still had to look up to admire his eyes. Ilaria wasn't sure if she had taken another step towards him or if he had taken one towards her but she became very aware of just how close to him she was. Blushing, she quickly took a step back and fixed her eyes on the ground.

"He is my soldier. I will take good care of him while you rest." Emhyr promised.

"I know you would. But I have done nothing here for weeks. Please let me do this." Ilaria pleaded, looking back up into Emhyr's eyes.

Sighing he looked into her bright blue eyes and saw her desperation. Finally he nodded in defeat but he gently grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it before turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway and turned towards her and whispered, "I'm glad my men are in such capable hands.".

She blushed as he turned and walked out the door. Cahir had made him out to be such a strict ruler who would not have offered to stay awake with an injured soldier. Which left Ilaria to wonder why he did this night. She was also left alone to her thoughts of what a handsome man he truly was and how she hadn't been prepared for him to be so attractive.

It took the soldier about a week to fully heal. Ilaria took the stitches she made out under Emhyr and Cahir's watchful eyes. Once out she made the soldier get up and walk around.

"Oh thank you ma'am! I never thought I'd walk again!" He exclaimed, doing a little dance once steady on his feet.

"It was nothing, I'm glad you healed though!" Ilaria laughed as he hugged her.

Emhyr and Cahir, obviously satisfied with her work, stepped into another room to discuss something.

"Come let's get you back to the training ground and put you to the real test." Ilaria giggled.

They made their way down the steps. Just before they got to the grand entrance the doors opened and Ilaria saw one of her fathers servants.

"Oh my what a pleasure to see you! What brings you here?" Ilaria inquired, approaching them.

"Ma'am…..I do wish I was here with better news. But….well….you best read this first." They replied by handing her a letter.

Ilaria felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the soldier's concerned eyes. Gently she nodded letting him know he could make his way back to the training grounds and that she would be fine. Once he was gone she opened the letter.

Daughter,

My love, I wish I was writing this letter with better news for you. But I regret to inform you that your mother has been brutally murdered. The servant will have details about the funeral. Do not fear I will avenge your mother. I hope all is well. I do miss you.

Love,

Father

Ilaria looked up at the servant with a horrified look on her face, tears filling her eyes. The servant nodded to confirm that the letter was telling the truth.

"....when….?" Ilaria stammered.

"Ma'am it was a tough road. The funeral was a week ago. I am so sorry I am late. Your brother….." The servant began to say.

"It's okay. Thank you." Ilaria replied, fighting back her tears she gestured for the servant to go, having heard enough.

The servant quickly curtsied and exited the castle. As soon as they were out of sight Ilaria collapsed to the ground sobbing. After some time she heard some footsteps approaching her.

"What happened, are you okay?" Emhyr's calm voice inquired.

Ilaria shook her head, unable to really answer him. Amidst her tears she saw him kneel down in front of her. Gently his hand caressed her chin urging her to look up at him. Slowly she lifted her head and looked up at him. Through her tears she could see his face was full of concern.

"...my mother…..she died." Ilaria sobbed.

"I am so sorry for your loss." Emhyr consoled her, "you should go home to be with your family.".

"But I was told that I'm late for the funeral. My idiot brother sent the worst servant to tell me the news." Ilaria whimpered, tears still streaming down her face.

Emhyr gently wiped the tears from her face. Seeing the letter in her hand he gently extended his hand. Gently she set it in his hand for him to read. He took a moment to read and process it.

"She was murdered, your family needs you. I implore you to go home and to be with them." Emhyr sighed, standing up.

"I shouldn't leave you….Dijkstra….." Ilaria stuttered, standing up as well.

"He will understand. Besides, it doesn't need to be permanent for you to leave me. Cahir is leaving on a mission he can take you home. So long as his mission goes well and nothing goes wrong he can bring you back if you wish." Emhyr responded.

"What if I'm not there when he comes back from the mission?" Ilaria questioned, looking at Emhyr trying to see his reaction.

The corners of his lips curled slightly, "Don't worry I'll make sure he finds you no matter where you are. But please if you are to leave with him you need to pack dear because he will leave before nightfall.".

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