Chapter Text
“Hey, I love you.”
The words popped into Geralt’s head and out of his mouth as he traced lazy circles on the expanse of warm, golden skin beneath his hand. But the sight of Emhyr’s devastated expression made him bite his tongue and wish that he had kept his mouth shut.
A trio of wolf howls shattered the calm night air. The window shutters in the imperial bedchamber snapped open from a blast of wind, which also blew out all the candles.
Geralt grabbed his sword and rolled out of bed into a crouch before Emhyr. The Witcher’s cat eyes scanned the darkness for the attack.
Someone clapped, and the candles reignited in an instant.
A rather ordinary-looking merchant grinned back at the Witcher. Geralt growled menacingly, "who are you?"
"Gaunter O'Dimm, also known as Master Mirror," the man introduced himself. "I am surprised, pleased even, to find you at the heart of Nilfgaard. Though I am disappointed that you do not remember me from our earlier meeting in White Orchard, Geralt."
Then the man executed a perfect bow to Emhyr, “Your Imperial Majesty! I should hope that you, at least, still remember me.”
As he stepped closer to the bed, Geralt struck out with his sword— and found O’Dimm smiling at him from the other side of the bed. He lunged and again found the merchant standing just out of reach. Geralt wondered what sort of magic the man welded; his medallion, however, remained as still as a stone.
He saw a shimmer and found himself gasping for air on his hands and knees. There was no sign of an attack, but it felt as if a shaelmaar had rammed into him. A massive bruise rapidly bloomed on his pale torso.
“Geralt!” Emhyr dropped beside him protectively.
“O’Dimm, enough.” The emperor’s voice was steady, but Geralt could feel the minute tremors in Emhyr’s hands as he was helped back onto his feet.
“Tsk, tsk, it seems that Sir Geralt is still in the dark. I think it’s time for a little story, don’t you?” The merchant settled comfortably into a chair. Any pretense of deference was gone.
The emperor paled.
O’Dimm waved his hands, and Geralt watched the shadows about the room fuse together before it slithered along the floor and onto a wall like a living thing. It then twisted, merged, and pulled apart until the silhouette of the imperial palace emerged from the void as Master Mirror began his tale.
“Once upon a time, there was a little Prince, who by his birthright would become the Emperor of Nilfgaard when he became of age. But the Usurper led a coup, killed the father” — the shadows showed the form of an armored warrior violently stabbing a man to death— “and cursed the Prince, secretly the newly crowned emperor, into a hedgehog creature, a beast for day and man at night.
The shadow showed the form of a child painfully transforming into a hedgehog-shaped figure. Emhyr’s fingers tightened around Geralt’s.
“The young Prince escaped, but he was forced to hide in the dense forests of the North due to his beast-like appearance. He knew that the curse could be broken, allowing him the chance to reclaim his birthright if a Queen would give him the hand of a Princess to wed. But how does one find a Queen or a Princess in a godforsaken forest in the middle of nowhere?”
“As fortune would have it, a simple merchant of mirrors, myself that is, was traveling through the forest one day and came upon the poor cursed creature. I listened carefully to his tale of woe and offered him a trade. In exchange for helping to free him from his curse” — O’Dimm paused dramatically for a moment. His eyes gleamed with hunger — “I simply asked for his soul.”
“Oh, but the Prince was wily, like another.” The merchant’s voice lowered with menace. The shadow on the wall shivered, and the entire room darkened all of a sudden. But then, just as quickly, O’Dimm recovered and continued on. “He put a special condition on his part of the deal. I can only claim his soul if he honestly loves another and is so loved in return. But what can I say; I’m a romantic at heart, so I agreed.”
“Since our contract, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Shortly after his meeting with me, the cursed Prince saved the life of the wounded King Roegner, who unknowingly promised his daughter, the Princess of Cintra, to his rescuer. And from there, the stage was set. First, the curse was broken, as you are aware, since you were both there. Then, not only did the Prince reclaim his birthright, but he went on to build the largest empire on the Continent.”
“And so for decades, the Prince’s stipulation remain unfilled, for who could genuinely love an emperor? Princess Pavetta? She did not even know the real identity of the man she married. Princess Cirilla? She barely remembered her own father. Who indeed, but the same Witcher who once saved his life at a queen’s banquet.”
Coming to the end of his tale, the merchant stood up. The figures on the wall ceased moving and, with a faint wail of despair, melted to the floor and flowed back to where shadows should be.
“Finally,” O’Dimm clasped his hands together cheerfully. “Heartfelt declarations of love have been exchanged, first from your lips and now from Geralt’s. It is time for me to collect my payment, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd.”