#mererid

So I read 'The Bone Houses' by Emily Lloyd-Jones a while ago, absolutely loved it, and then accidently stumbled across the Drowned Woods in my library a few weeks ago- saw it was by the same author- and immediately picked it up. I must say I liked the Bone Houses more, but this one picked up faster and I read it in like one day xD

Ciri: Chamberlain, is it true? Geralt is in there?

Mererid: That is true, Your Imperial Majesty. Master Geralt is having an important audience with your father, the Emperor.

Ciri: Let me in!

Outside...

Mererid: Apologies, Majesty, but no one is allowed to disturb them.

Ciri: Pleeeeease! Move out of the way!

Ciri: Ugh! Move old man! Dammit! You're like a statue! Come oooonnn!

Mererid: ....

Ciri: You know I could just use my powers and blink inside.

Mererid: If you do that, Majesty, I will be severely punished.

Ciri: *sigh* I can't let father punish you for doing your job. Very well, I will come back later. Send someone to inform me when the audience ends.

Mererid: As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty. And thank you.

Mererid, the dutiful and loyal chamberlain, ready to lay his life and limb to protect his master, even from Emhyr's own daughter.

I think Emhyr won’t be as mad as everyone thinks. He knows his own strong will and his daughter definitely inherited it, he knew ultimately he couldn’t stop it no matter what he tried. He’ll definitely play it like he’s furious though. Ciri and Vernon chill at Regis’ place until they feel they can approach the emperor. Once they go back to Emhyr his demand is Vernon be a head General or some military high rank and Ciri continue being his heir. They will be moments of terror on Ciri’s part as Vernon continues to challenge Emhyr on anything. Vernon eventually chills out once he realizes just how clever and oddly caring the emperor is. Vernon thinks he’s died when he hears Emhyr actually laugh with Mererid over an old joke between the two.

ends up half drowning himself with essential oils and having a coughing fit, lavender searing the inside of his lungs, more stressed than ever before, frantically googling the side effects of inhaling a mist of herbal oils

... so. I learned a couple of days ago that Mererid means “pearl” in Welsh. And then this happened.

(For context: A lot of Elder Speech words were taken from Welsh. And “eimyr” means “hedgehog” in the Elder Speech. I think that’s all you need know to enjoy this silly little scene.)

***

The setting sun painted the Emperor's desk with a broad stripe of warm orange light that caught on his jewelled surcoat and lined his hard profile in gold. There was little chance he'd make a request of Mererid before his evening meal, engrossed as he was in the letters he was writing, but Mererid stood unobtrusively in a corner of the office all the same. One could never know.

Sunshine crept slowly across the room. Mererid watched a few dust motes dancing in the air and made a mental note to have the office cleaned overnight.

The Emperor's quill stopped its scratching, and Mererid looked over. He had paused and set the quill down, sitting perfectly straight in his chair as he looked over the letter. There was something tense in the set of his shoulders, though, and he flexed his hand once.

Mererid crossed the room and stood at his shoulder, reaching for the offending hand. "Please allow me, Your Majesty," he said, though it was only a formality—he was already rubbing circles between the Emperor's thumb and forefinger, massaging the cramping muscles there. He'd done this before. He had been terrified the first time, his sense of propriety warring with the sudden, foolish urge to put his hands on the Emperor and take the pain away himself instead of calling for a physician. The Emperor had said nothing, though, and Mererid's head was still attached to the rest of him. So the hand massages had continued.

Geralt:

Takes a long time because everyone asks him to reach for high shelves and if he knows where to find the lemon juice.

Yennefer:

Shoves everyone aside and takes things out of other people's carts.

Ciri:

She's in every aisle before you get there. In. Every. Aisle.

Dandelion:

Stands in the middle of the aisle and talks very loud about the posh recipe he needs fresh cilantro for. Has never cooked a thing in his life.

Emhyr: