Emhyr Var Emreis x Reader

Thirty-Eight

It rained fire.

Flames rained from the celling of the cave, glowing like fallen stars while they made the air flicker with heat.

Struck by surprise, the rebels froze for the hint of a second. Their gazes turned upwards to see what was going on.

Not a single one of them saw the soldiers in black and gold coming.

Not a single one except the man in blue and white. Vernon Roche.

With his teeth clenched, he drew his sword and launched at the first soldier who dared to set foot near one of his rebels.

It took him two strikes and the man of Nilfgaard fell to his knees. Blood poured from the cracks of his armour and drenched the floor.

Your ears seemed to fall deaf in that moment.

All at once, the noise stopped. All that you were able to hear was your own breath echoing inside your head.

With widened eyes, you called more magic to keep the rain of fire flowing.

The heat danced between your fingers, licked along the joints and made your skin burn.

For the first time in your life you felt like the magic in your blood was about to control you instead of the other way around.

Never before have you felt this powerful.

But at the same time you feared what could happen once you gave into this desire to burn every single thing to ashes.

Around you, battle raged.

Men crossed swords while arrows cut through the air.

Whenever your eye reached, men fell to their knees, drenched in blood from other men.

It smelled of iron and raw flesh.

The stench was so unbearable that the urge to empty your stomach scratched at the back of your throat.

With a face of disgust, you swallowed the growing nausea and closed your hands to let the magic die down.

Now, the cave was filled with both Nilfgaard's soldiers and rebels equally.

Dull sounds reached your ears as you managed to jump aside to avoid an arrow to the knee.

Stains of red dripped from the walls as a rebel raised his sword, a scream distorting his face, and attempted to slide you in two.

Struck by surprise, you stumbled back and raised your hands.

Without your calling, flames poured from your fingers.

Like a wild animal they hit him in the face and bit down.

Screaming in pain, he threw his head back and let go of the blade he was holding.

His eyes trembled while the paleness of his skin faded into black and ashes.

All at once, the noise returned to your ears.

Crackling fire mixed with the sound of metal hitting metal.

Screams filled the air like water the ocean.

No matter how hard you tried, they filled your ears, crawled into your brain and nestled in your memory like a parasite inside flesh. It remained there and kept on breeding until your body knew the feeling that the sounds of sorrow caused by heart.

Not till the end of time would you forget how it sounded to die while being burned alive.

You could feel the unnatural heat that made your body glow. It almost felt like a burning itch covered your skin and wanted to eat through every layer until it got to the bone.

Metal started to glow in a crimson red and slowly melted as you failed to call back the magic.

With hasty breaths and even louder sounds of despair, the man fell to the ground.

As soon as his hot skin touched the muddy water, a cloud of steam filled the air.

Your view was covered.

Blinded by steam and the panic that you weren't master of your own senses no more, you jumped to your feet.

The urge to run tied your throat and made your legs twitch.

But you didn't know where to nor would it have been wise to run from the battlefield.

Nilfgaard was known for no mercy when it came to people who refused to fight.

But you didn't refuse.

You just weren't used to the screams nor the chaos that raged around. You had grown up in the safe walls of a castle.

Never before had you seen a man burn and skin melt like wax.

Breathing heavily, you took steps back, away from the raging battle and the man screams.

The beating of your heart hammered against your bones. It felt like it would stop any moment.

Your back hit a cave wall. Out of reflex, your fingers tried to dig into the stone to have something to hold onto.

As the veil of white steam lifted, your eyes immediately fell onto the man you had just killed.

There was nothing left of him. Nothing out a puddle of bloody goo and melted metal from the armour he has worn.

The helmet had melted into his skull. Empty eyes looked at you while steaming blood poured from cracked lips.

The sight made your stomach turn.

A whimper escaped your lips.

But there was no time to cry about the evils you had done.
All of a sudden, the tips of your ears reacted to a sound, so close to you that your heart almost stopped in fright.

The blade missed your head by barely the width of a hand.

Iron hit hard rocks and made them crack like ice.

A breeze of air stroked your face as it hit the stone wall behind you and made your organs twist and turn.

With clenched teeth, you locked eyes with a man who was no other than the leader of the rebels himself.

"Vernon Roche!", you breathed as another chaotic flame lit up in the palm of your hand.

With his eyebrows knitted together, he hesitated a moment before pulling back the sword that was stuck in stone.

As he did so, the sharp side of the blade struck your face and drew a cut across your cheek.

Flinching, you pulled to the side and wanted to chase him back with a small flame.

But the magic started to run free. Instead of frightening the man away, it jumped up his chest and bit into his face.