Emhyr Var Emreis x Reader

Forty-Eight

Unable to speak a single word, you walked through the open doors while your eyes lingered on the ceiling of the mansion.

Thin strands of daylight managed to find their way into the foyer.

Old wood creaked with every step you took. The soles of your boots left prints in the dust that had collected over the many years of abandonment.

Stuffy air filled your lungs as you stopped in front of the stairs and took a deep breath.

"All of this...", you raised your arms, eyes still fixed on the ceiling that was covered in cracks and chipped paint. "What a shame that it has to look like this."

Humming in agreement, the emperor followed you with a little distance.

Only he and Morvran had accompanied you to the house of your parents in order to honour your request to be respectful.

They kept their distance with a few steps and watched while you fully bathed in the memories that filled these old halls.

Bleached out paintings danced over the walls that were in such rough condition that small icy crystals had found their way inside.

The wood that held most of the walls up started to foul due to moisture and age.

Broken glass from the windows covered the carpet floor.

"Do you want to rebuild it in a different style?", Emhyr asked as you let your fingers wander along the railing of the huge stairs that lead to the upper floor. "No matter what you wish for, it will be my wedding gift to you."

Chuckling softly, you shook your head and took the first few steps to see if the upper floors were still the way you remembered them.

"I'll rebuild it myself.", you said and stopped at the top to look down on him with an amused expression.

He frowned.

"I can make very single one of your dreams come true. Why waste your time saving all the money you need to get this place to its old glory?"

Sighing, you rolled your eyes and shook your head with a slim smile.

"Why do you care so much, my dear Emhyr?", you asked and turned around to walk down the upper corridor until a particular door caught your attention.

As a small child your mother had encouraged you to dabble in creative activities as a counter part to your fathers urges to get you to skill the magic abilities his blood had inherited you.

As a result, all of your walls and the door to your old room looked like somebody had dumped all the paint of the world on it.

Cranky flowers and colourful clouds stretched across the old wood.

Taken by nostalgia, you pressed the palm of your hand against the cold surface.

The door slowly pushed open to reveal a room that was enough to fill your eyes with tears.

The small bed, barely big enough for a child of ten winters to fit into, was still the way you remembered it. Green covers lay on it while the pillow was brown with embroidered flowers and butterflies, mixed with swords and dragons.

Father had always insisted that no matter what a child was born as it wasn't wise to force it into rolls. Therefore your parents had both made great efforts to teach you in many ways, not just intelligence and craftsmanship but also in cooking and sewing of useful garments.

You knew loads of things about everything there was to know. Not a master of any but an apprentice of many.

Caught up in all the memories of long nights and bright days, you walked into the room and let your hands slide along every place that you were fond of, from the dusty bookshelf, stuffed with yellow pages, to the small desk on which still lay a collection of dried out herbs.

They still smelled a little of rosemary, thyme and oil.

Your eyes fell onto the dust covered blankets that were stacked on the foot of your bed.

You recognised them as the quilts that your mother used to sew.

Winters as cruel as those had been her favourite season since it was a good excuse to make garments with loads of fur and thick fabric such as wool.

"I remember this room.", Emhyr suddenly appeared in the door.

You threw a glance out the window to see how the garden looked after all these years of being left unattended.

"Sometimes Ciri would come and visit.", you said, eyes still fixed on the overgrown beds of flowers.

Your father had planted them for his research.

"Yes, I remember. Whenever I had little time she would ask me to stay with you.", he came closer but didn't pay attention towards the many things you felt so many emotion towards.

His hand reached out to stroke your cheek in a gentle manner.

Torn from your thoughts, you blinked and turned your head to look at him.

A slim smile made your lips curl as his eyes met yours.

"I didn't hold you for a gentle man.", you mocked him and grabbed his hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not.", he admitted and pulled you in to place his chin on the top of your head. "But I know that if this marriage shall last, I must make sacrifices."

You chuckled.

"You don't make sacrifices, Emhyr."

"Not if I'm not willing to."

Surprised, your eyebrows rose.

"I'm worth of sacrifices?", you asked, baffled.

For a moment his eyes wandered over your face. Then he closed them to let out a sound that was something between a deep breath and a sigh.

"You seem to be a person who values security and honesty.", he said and let go of you to take a step back. "So I believe it would be wise to make a confession."

A silent voice started to scream in the back of your mind.

This was the exact thing you hated about him. Whenever he made it look like things were going smooth he came and disturbed the peace.

"Speak up.", you said and crossed both arms in front of your chest.

"Me accepting your proposal doesn't come out of the blue. You were always supposed to marry into the imperial family.", he said. "Just not me."

You frowned.

"Who then?"

He took a deep breath.

"Cirilla."