He was shaking and it was not from the cold. He wanted to weep, though remembered he had vowed to himself he would have never wept ever again. Cahir had been so eager to prove himself, to show Emhyr he was worthy of the trust deposed in him. It had been a simple extraction, nothing more, nothing less. He had trained so intensely for that day, the day when Emhyr would look upon him and deem him worthy of working for the Empire.
And how he had admired Emhyr, nearly loving him, if he hadn’t done so! Emhyr had been everything Cahir had sought to become: a man of authority and power whose breath alone was enough to command the respect of those around him. But, how gravely mistaken Cahir had been! Emhyr was a cruel man who used those in his service, seeing them as disposable pawns, as it seemed fit according to his whims. And, perhaps, Cahir would have found a way to build himself again, to heal from the red, hot blade of the Emperor’s words. But to see his father like that? It had broken something in him that would never be the same ever again.
As the Emperor approached, Cahir stood to his feet. He knew begging was pathetic, useless, for the weak. If he was to be stepped on, then at least let it not be said Cahir begged like a beaten dog. “Then,” he began, “Punish me! Do whatever you wish: torture me, skin me alive, make a disgrace out of me to your Court, smear my name. But, let my father go!” His request was firmly spoken, his glance never faltering or lowered. “It was me who has failed this task, me who has so disappointed you that you now cannot even bear to look at me. It was me, not him! I will take whatever you want to do to me. Gladly. I won’t even scream. If you must, take out your anger and disappointment on me, not my father or anyone else.”
Deep down, Emhyr didn’t enjoy having to do this. He didn’t enjoy torturing good men and he didn’t like having to make a mockery of those who hadn’t served him wrong, but he had to make sacrifices at times, like any other good ruler. He had made sure that when he became Emperor that he’d rule with an iron fist and make his enemies quiver at the thought of him. He’d wanted them to fear Nilfgaard and they did. And he needed his people to be afraid to doublecross him. He wouldn’t be overthrown, not like his father had when the usurper had taken the throne.
He had thought he’d groomed Cahir to be exactly what he needed and maybe he still was, but he hadn’t succeeded. It was upsetting to know that his daughter had been so close to being home and that she’d escaped so easily.
“Listen to me boy, I thought you better than to keep running your mouth with such disgrace. Straighten up, stop slouching and stop whining. Now.” He wasn’t going to keep listening to it. “Your father is home, where he belongs and being tended too. I punished him because I knew how it would affect you. I see your soft heart, you’ve let it get in your way of duties. I won’t torture you, because that’s what you want. Now I want you to sit there and go over what happened to me again. Just because you’ve failed, doesn’t mean I won’t be sending others after Cirilla.”
jacobvanloon
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
stormborns
dededos
origamiaround
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
