Whumptober 2022 Prompts
No. 2: Confrontation
No. 4: Waking up disoriented
No. 23: Tied to a table
No. 25: Silence is golden
No. 30: Manhandled
Silence is golden, but it hurts is golden, but it hurts
A torrent of icy-cold water startles him out of unconsciousness. Cahir's eyes fly wide open and he splutters and gasps for breath. For a short, disconcerting moment, he has not the slightest idea where he is or why. Then his gaze falls onto the man in black armour towering above him and realisation hits him like a fist to the gut. As does the searing agony in his shoulder. Damn it. He clenches his teeth against the pain while assessing the situation. An assessment that leaves no room for doubt. He is royally fucked indeed.
Not only is he soaking wet from the not-so-friendly wake-up shower, his shoulder hurting like seven hells and certainly dislocated or broken, but he has been tied firmly to the leg of a table or desk in what appears to be the farmer's study, at least judging from the furniture and the many ledgers and scrolls in the shelves on the wall opposite him. There are two soldiers in the small room, both of them holding an empty water bucket in their hands. And Dheran. Who is sneering down at him.
"You're awake. And hurting. Good," his older brother snarls. "Let's try again. Who are you riding with? And where to? Spill!"
As before, the prisoner does not answer. Dheran sits down on his haunches, bringing his face up uncomfortably close to Cahir's.
"Now listen to me carefully, little brother. We can do this the hard way, if you insist. By the end, though, you will talk, this much I can promise you. And then there will be a nice and grisly public execution waiting for you back in Nilfgaard." He pauses, his much darker eyes boring into his younger brother's blue ones. "Or," he continues in barely more than a whisper, "you can answer my questions and I'll kill you right here and now. One quick blow of my sword. A mere blink of an eye and it will be over. You won't feel a thing."
"You would kill me then?" It is more a statement than a question, and Cahir does not need an answer, one look in his brother's face is telling enough.
"You have no idea what you have done, do you?" Dheran hisses, his face a grimace of hate. "You, the golden boy of the family, the one who excelled at everything and anything. The favourite child who was anointed and made a Count by Emhyr var Emreis himself! How proud our parents were! And then, just like this," he snaps his fingers, "you betray us all! Your country, your Emperor, and your fucking family!" Now Dheran's anger-red face is so close to Cahir's that their noses almost touch. "You dragged our good name into the dirt! Our father was dismissed as seneschal and sent home to Darn Dyffra in shame because of you! Believing you had died, our mother cried her eyes out for weeks because of you! And I - I lost my command and was sent to this desolate place without a snowball's chance in hell to gain any fame or glory in battle - because of you, Cahir!" He rises. Towering above his fettered brother who has gone pale and paler with every word the older man has said, Dheran looks down at Cahir as if he was nothing but vermin. "I wish, our mother had miscarried and you had never been born," he spits. "I wish I had never had an annoying little brother! I wish you had died as we thought you had! You broke our parents' hearts, and I hate you for it!"
"I-" Cahir swallows, his mouth having gone as dry as the Korath desert. "I am sorry," he then says hoarsely, "truly. I didn't want this to happen, not any of it."
"You are sorry!" Dheran scoffs, then turns to the two soldiers. "Did you hear that? The traitor is sorry!" He swivels around again on the heel of his heavy army boot, once more staring down at Cahir, his eyes blazing, "An apology isn't enough. This is not you breaking my favourite toy knight. If you are sorry, then at least have the decency to spare our parents the dishonour and heartbreak of a public execution! Tell me what I need to know! Who is riding with you, Cahir? What are your plans? Spit it out!"
"I can't."
"Damn you then!" Dheran shouts, fuming, almost flushed purple with rage. He lunges out and hits Cahir hard in the face with his gloved hand. "Shove your sorry right up your arse, traitor! You are no brother of mine!" Another hit to the face that makes Cahir's ears ring. Followed by a kick in the gut. And the ribs. Cahir doubles over, gasping for breath as Dheran hits and kicks him again and again. However, none of it hurts as much as the man's words. You are no brother of mine. And Cahir cannot even blame him. As every single word he uttered was true. He has broken both his parents' hearts, and he hates himself for it.