Cahir swiped the dagger away from his face before it hit him again. She was erratic, scared and confused. The poison worked its way through her bloodstream and messed up her head. He knew this would happen. He just assumed it would be less dangerous for him. She'd been fine for three days. She'd sat up, spoken to him, hurled her guts up and gone back to sleep.

She had never hallucinated before. Cahir had left her cuts, trying to heal the wound left by the arrow first. He had thought that once he got the splinters out she'd be fine, he'd been too late. The black splintered metal had been in there for hours, and the poison had spread. By the smell of it it was something flowery. He didn't know many poisons. He knew of nightshade and basilisk venom, but she wasn't paralyzed so he had ruled those out.

Cahir waited for her to pass out again before he moved from the back of the cave. He needed to keep her still long enough to clean her wounds. He still needed her to save his own neck, she was free to hate him as much as she wanted, but if he saved her life, she'd have to ease up eventually.
He moved her onto her back and placed her arms by her sides. He hadn't dared ask her to take the shirt off, she had been right days ago, he did value his neck.

He moved a hand over her wounded front, assessing. Five deep cuts marred her pale skin, several of the cuts crossed the deepest one and green pus had already formed underneath the forming scabs. He should have stitched them first. Now he had to pick the scabs away, rinse the cuts and stitch them up all without her waking and stabbing him in the throat.

The black residue left from the dimeritium-tipped arrow ran down her chest along with the sweat. He wasn't too worried about that anymore. He assumed the poison caused delirium and nothing else. If she'd been alone, it would have killed her, she would have wandered off a cliff or broken a leg and been eaten. Auri only moved when he dabbed at her chest with a rag dunked in alcohol. The pure kind this time.
He'd told the lady at the inn about the probability of his wife getting hurt and she'd gladly parted with several bottles of clean Mahakam spirit.

'Get your hands off me,' she tried and clawed at his hand.
'No,' he said and pushed her back down onto the bedroll. She could claw at him as much as she wanted, he'd been worse off before. If she really wanted to, she could probably stab him again and he would still help her.
'Nilfgaardian traitor,' she mumbled and opened her eyes. She shook with hatred and confusion. Her eyes kept darting from her hand to his. She watched him closely as he slowly picked at the scabbed wounds with the corner of the rag.

'If you're going to keep insulting me, do it properly.'
'What?'
'I am a Vicovarian traitor, not Nilfgaardian.' He said and reached for the bottle again.
'Are you-' she began but hissed through her teeth when he poured a small stream of spirit into her festering wounds.
'No, I am not lying to you.' He began and dabbed at her skin. 'I will tell you who I am if you stop trying to fuck this up. I have to stitch you back together, and you will let me or so help me-'
'Fine!' she snapped and closed her eyes.

Cahir grabbed the needle as he spoke. Anything to keep her occupied. He didn't know if she'd be able to feel all of it, with the poison messing up her mind, but the sound of his voice and his touch had calmed her before.
'I was born a Vicovarian count. My father fell after we revolted against the Usurper. My brothers followed soon after, I had nothing left to do but to fight. That's when Nilfgaard came. Emhyr decapitated the fucker with a dented and dull Mahakam blade and saved my life. I had been left to starve and die on my own after my family was killed.'

Cahir threaded the needle and bent over her chest, moving away from the light. He had to go slow, rinse first and stitch after. She would bleed so he thought it best to close the wounds one by one. She protested a little when the needle sank into her skin but quieted when he continued to speak.
'He told me the Usurper was a fool to let me go. He brought me back with him to Nilfgaard and taught me to fight and to defend myself.'

The needle moved through her skin. Tiny droplets of blood pooled by his fingertips. Her soft breaths were hot against his forehead.

'When I was old enough, he knighted me. I have been by his side ever since. It all fell apart because of the damned Princess.' He said and tied off the thread.
'The Cintran Princess you hunted across the continent for that eventually slipped through your slimy fingers. What happened to you then? Did he smack your hand and send you my way?'

The glee in her voice wasn't lost on him. He'd failed. He'd deserved every bit of punishment he got.
'I was captured by the mages, I told you. They tortured me for six months. Everything about that was true too. Yennefer helped me escape. We ended up in Oxenfurt and I got on a ship back to Cintra.'
'Back to your beloved war-criminal.' She said and turned away from him. Cahir kept his grip on her arm.

'I was meant to bring him your head.' Cahir said and scowled at her. 'I was meant to cleave it from your fucking shoulders, stuff it in a bag and bring it to him. If I did, I'd get my station and rank back. I'd be back at his side, and he'd let me help him overthrow the rest of the continent. If I failed-'

Auri moved his hand away from her and sat up. She seemed less delirious and more prone to violence, and he instinctively wrapped a hand around his sword.
'So, you want me to believe that you just decided not to kill me and go against your entire belief-system for what? Free passage to Skellige? Do you hear yourself-'

Cahir moved his hands, placed them on her shaking shoulders and forced her face to his.
'I want you to understand what I have done for you! I have cut down men I trained to keep you out of their hands. I left behind every single opportunity for redemption the moment they took you. If I go back to Cintra I will be killed. As of now, my only hope is your mangled ass, and Skellige.'
'You could have just killed me!' she said and shook out of his touch. 'If it pained you so, you could have just shoved that dagger into my chest and taken my head! Why the fuck do you complain to me about what I cost you? Kill me, if that's what you want. I don't understand you.'

Cahir gaped at her. The fucking hellbeast just glared at him. As though what he'd done for her ceased to be of any importance because he'd been out to kill her initially.
'Sometimes I wonder how the hell you managed to get out of the ocean without drowning,' he began and left the rag on the ground.
'What does that have to do with anything?' she said and the familiar wrinkle between her eyebrows returned.
Cahir rose from the ground and walked over to the packs he'd left on the floor. He did not have enough shirts to bind her wounds, not by a long shot.
'Answer me!' Auri commanded from behind him. He knew the answer plain as day. The fact that she didn't only cemented his point.
'Because you're fucking oblivious.' He said and turned to her.

He should have expected the fire. The ball of flame hit him in the chest. She was nowhere near her full potential, so it didn't hurt as much as he'd feared. It merely singed his shirt and pissed him off. Cahir drew his sword.

She didn't give him a chance to back down. She snapped a finger and the flames roared.
'Drop it!' she said, moving her feet apart. She still shook, if she moved that fast again her stitches would rip.
'I will drop it if you listen to me!' he countered and kept the tip pointed at her.
'Everything you told me was a lie! Am I meant to just trust you now because you somehow decided I was worth keeping alive for a bit longer? Until you get to Skellige and the safety you so desperately want?'

'Auri,' Cahir began and tried to keep the smirk off his face, to keep her from burning it off. She had so very clearly not understood a thing. She had not understood what it had cost him to save her and why he'd done it. She had pieced together his backstory well enough, but the rest-
'This is a warning. Drop the sword. Now.' She said and curled her fingers, forming another ball of fire.
'Do you think I kill my own men for practice? Do you think I like having you insult me at every turn simply because your delirious fucking head refuses to see the truth?'
'I think you'd kill just about anyone to get back to the murdering-'
'So why haven't I killed you yet? If I throw my sword, you'll be dead before you even realize something hit you. I could have killed you tenfold over the past three days.'
'I've been here for three days?' The fire died in her hand, and she stuttered. Auri gaped at him. Some feeling he didn't recognize flared across her face for an instant and she dropped her hands.

Cahir sheathed his sword and held up his hands, palms facing her.
'Three days and half a morning,' he clarified. He took a tentative step toward her and kept his eyes on her trembling hands.
'You've been here for three days then?' she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Cahir moved across the sandy ground and took her hand. She didn't rip it away at once, so he motioned for her to sit. Her breathing was ragged and much to his surprise the stitches held. One of the last scabs threatened to rip the left side of her chest clean open but he ignored it.
'I have,' he said and let go of her hand, she kept her grip. Squeezing her fingers around his wrist. 'I've forced you to eat, made you drink heaps of disgusting water. I held your hair when you threw up all over my boots. I've talked you through the pain and I've cleaned your wounds. I am not entirely sure you're not delirious right now, but if you are, I will help you through that too.' He said and moved a hand to her cheek.

'Why?' she said and placed her swimming green eyes on him. The dark circles had returned in full and she needed rest more than this- He didn't even know what to tell her, what answer would be good enough?

Cahir cleared his throat. She'd forget about this, and he'd be able to brush it off as a fever-dream. That would be all.
'I want you to live. I need you.' He said and let go of her cheek.

The answer seemed to calm her somewhat. She moved her eyes from him and traced a finger over the still open wounds on her chest.
'Did I rip them open?'
'No, but you would have. Please don't do this again,' he said and pointed at the bedroll. 'I'm still not done.'

He could see her think. The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened and her eyes unfocused. She was still so very oblivious. She was no longer his way back to Cintra and the Emperor, she was no longer just a rogue mage.
Auri of Fayrlund had become something else entirely.

Cahir threaded the needle again and gently moved her hair away from her chest. Auri had become his way to freedom and his salvation.