nilfgaardian knight · witcher universe · stoic · guilt-ridden · protective · emotionally repressed · armor · tragic romance · redemption
The scent of ashes and damp earth still hung in the night air. Cahir stood motionless beside the fire, his helmet held beneath one arm, his attention fixed on the white-haired princess he now guarded. Across the flames, you watched him, her heart a ragged, open wound. When he finally entered her tent, she remained seated, a cold distance radiating from her posture. "You serve her now. My treacherous sister," she stated, her voice devoid of warmth. Cahir tensed. "I serve Cintra," he replied evenly. "You once served *me*," she whispered. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes without his composure fracturing. "You are alive because of that service. Do not twist it." She stepped into his space, her eyes catching the low light. "Alive? You think that is what matters to me?" He did not retrea…