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Morvran is proud to say that he is slowly but surely getting the hang of life at Kaer Morhen. The first few weeks were rough, full of so many new experiences, important lessons, shocking revelations (both about himself and others) and big decisions that he felt like he had barely had time to breathe in between. But things have calmed down a bit. Morvran has slowly gotten accustomed to the lack of propriety, courtly rules and pretenses in Kaer Morhen’s halls, learning how to navigate his day without these big corner stones of life in Nilfgaard. He is steadily getting closer to both Cahir and Seargent Hanif, to the point where he finds himself in the startling position to return to Nilfgaard in in spring with two trusted advisors and friends, something he never even thought possible for a prince of Nilfgaard.
He has also, perhaps even more startingly, developed a friendly relationship with quite a few of the keep’s inhabitants. He has started to look forward to the dagger training lessons with Zofia, steadily improving under her watchful gaze and patient guidance. He enjoys spending meals at the Viper table and he has managed to get to know more of the Witchers over the past week. He is incredibly grateful for the lessons he receives from the Warlord himself (who is getting slightly less terrifying as days pass, though Morvran would still not dream of treating him with the same easy camaraderie that his people do), and his relationship with Princess Cirilla has been improving as well. He is very sure now, had been just shortly after first meeting her, that he will never be able to woo and enchant her like the emperor hopes he will. But he thinks they might be friends, maybe. Morvran likes the idea of friends, even if the concept is still quite new to him.
Things are going well. Be that as it may, he still finds himself getting overwhelmed every once in a while. There is just so much to learn, and even more to relearn. Morvran is still caught in a continuous loop of questioning very nearly every single one of his actions and thoughts, rebuilding his beliefs and wishes for the future, his own sense of self, from near the ground. It is exhilarating and exhausting in roughly equal measure. Interestingly enough, getting overwhelmed is nothing to be ashamed of at Kaer Morhen. Taking breaks for the sake of your own mental and physical well-being is both permitted and encouraged. No one even blinks an eye if Morvran decides to take refuge in the stables for a while whenever the world starts feeling a little bit too much like it wants to crush him under its weight. Which is precisely what he is doing right now.
By now, both the horses and the staff have gotten quite used to his presence, and he is greeted with friendly smiles and soft nickers whenever he drops by. He has gotten particularly fond of an old chestnut mare recently, a retired Witcher horse, as one of the stable boys has informed him. He is not quite sure of her name. The staff has taken to calling her Grumpy, in an apparent tribute to her famously bad temper and inclination to bite. Morvran thinks the poor girl is just misunderstood. She has been nothing but a big sweetheart whenever he dropped by her stable with some treats and pets. He has secretly started calling her Darling, which he deems much more appropriate for such a lovely old Lady. He hands Darling the last piece of carrot he has brought with him, and she snuffles gently against his chest in appreciation. He doles out some last pets, before turning away. One of the stable boys (whose name he’s learned is Hendrik and who has endeared himself greatly to Morvran by always carrying horse treats with him which he is all too happy to share) looks at him with a mixture of wonder and amusement.
“You are maybe one of five people in this entire keep who are allowed to pet her like that without getting snapped at”, he says, not for the first time.
Morvran smiles a little at that, just like he always does. “Don’t be silly, Darling is a sweetheart”, he replies, and Darling nickers in what Morvran imagines is triumphant agreement. He leaves the stables to the sound of Hendrik’s incredulous laughter.
He wanders a bit, still a bit too restless to return to the keep. He has been branching out a little lately, visiting the other animal pens instead of just sticking to the horses. Kaer Morhen has a lot of different farm animals, self sufficient as the keep is, and Morvran has taken the chance to get a closer look at some of them. It’s not something he’d dare do in Nilfgaard. Princes in line for the Nilfgaardian throne are not meant to spend any extended amount of time whatsoever in even the general vicinity of animal pens. It is different with horse stables. Expensive horses are a status symbol after all, one which many nobles take at least a passing interest in, making it a safe hobby to openly pursue, even in the eyes of the most proper courtier. But visiting the goats, the sheep, the chickens? Unfathomable. His father would surely suffer an aneurysm if Morvran ever even just suggested such a thing. But his father is not here, and no one in Kaer Morhen is going to begrudge Morvran some time spent with some friendly animals. Something which he plans to take full advantage while he can.
He is planning on visiting the bunnies today. According to Princess Cirilla, the latest litters of the year are just four weeks old now, and Morvran has never even seen a baby bunny before. He is more excited about it than he’d care to admit.
The enclosures aren’t far from the stables and Morvran makes it there without even getting turned around once, which he takes as a sign that his orientation in this big keep truly is improving. He stands a bit to the side, watching some servants distributing the food between the roomy pens. He doesn’t really plan to get much closer than this, at least not today. All he wants is to stand out of the way and watch the animals in peace, maybe catch a glimpse of one of the smaller bunnies. It is a sound plan, one he really didn’t think he would have to revise. The servants are generally happy to let him be, seemingly rather indifferent to his presence.
It is something that had startled and slightly annoyed him when he was still very new at Kaer Morhen. He was used to fear and awe of the servants at Nilfgaard, and being treated so casually had been unpleasantly confusing for a while. He has come to greatly appreciate it by now, however. Morvran realizes now that he never really enjoyed being feared. It is not something that he finds joy or satisfaction in like he knows many other nobles do. And it is nice, being able to walk around and do simple things like visiting the stables or watching some bunnies without everyone around him springing to attention. He doesn’t quite know yet how he will deal with the change once he returns to Nilfgaard. (To be fair, he doesn’t know how he will deal with many things that await him back in Nilfgaard. He tries not to think about yet.)
His plan of quietly watching the bunnies for a while and then leaving again is however soundly shattered, when one of the servants comes over and picks a sickly looking bunny out of the enclosure. It is very small and too skinny, hanging limply in the hands of the boy. Morvran takes a step closer, both intrigued and oddly devastated and the sight.
“Whats wrong with it?” he asks, stepping even closer to the enclosure. The servant boy looks at him, seeming startled but not unkind.
“Just isn’t thriving. It was the smallest of the litter to begin with, the runt. It happens sometimes, though it’s always a bit sad” the boy says, looking at the small bunny pityingly. Morvran frowns. “So it’ll be put down?” he asks, unhappy at just the concept. He knows, realistically, that this just can’t always be avoided. Not all the animals you breed will always make it. But his heart bleeds for the little bunny anyways as the boy nods.
“Yes, unfortunately. He isn’t eating on his own, he’d just starve. I was about to take him to the butcher now. They probably can’t do much with it down in the kitchen, but it’s kinder than letting him wither away, I figured.”
By now, Morvran has walked all the way over, finally getting a closer look at the small animal. It’s really quite cute. Soft, black and white fur and floppy ears. It looks a lot like a stuffed animal Morvran used to own when he was really little. (Its name had been Biscuit, and it had Morvran’s favorite thing in the world. He never let it out of his sight, vowing to keep the toy with him for all his life. Then he turned six years old, which was when princes in line of the throne were deemed too old for toys in his father’s eyes. Biscuit had been confiscated, along with most of his other toys, and he had never seen the stuffed bunny again. At night, when he had trouble sleeping without his fluffy friend, he had imagined that Biscuit had to embark on a big journey all around the world. It had given him comfort for a few years, until he was old enough to realize that the toy most likely had just been thrown out or given away.)
“What if someone cared for it? Raise it with a bottle maybe. Could he make it?” Morvrans sister did that with her cat. The poor thing had been rejected by its own mother, a barn cat living in the horse stables, and she had begged and pleaded with their parents until they caved and allowed her to keep it. (That they caved in the end is, in Morvran’s humble opinion, nothing short of a miracle and only possible because his father always had a bit of a soft spot for his youngest daughter.) But maybe it doesn’t work like that for bunnies?
The servant looks at Morvran thoughtfully.
“That might work, but we just don’t have the time to take care of a bunny one on one like that. There are so many animals to be taken care of, and he might still not make it. But you could try if you wanted to.” The boy looks a bit hopeful at that, clearly taken with the idea of giving the bunny another chance. Morvran considers this. He doesn’t really know much about bunnies at all, let alone how to nurse them back to health. It’s not like he has heaps of spare time either, even if his schedule in Kaer Morhen is less demanding than back in Nilfgaard. And he has no idea how he would explain to anyone that he made the impulse decision to adopt a sick bunny and attempt to nurse it back to health, for no other reason than that it reminded him of a childhood toy he hasn’t even seen in 12 years. There is really an obvious choice to be made here.
He holds his hands out for the bunny. “I’ll do it.”
Biscuit (the Second) fits snugly into the pocket of his coat and lets himself be carried around without much fuss. Morvran first learns everything about bunny care that the servant boy can share with him. Then, he makes his way to Miss Merigold, hoping she might be able to tell him a little more about sick bunny care. She seems certainly confused at the request, but she tells him all she knows and even performs some diagnostic spells on the lethargic bunny. She sends Morvran on his way with a tincture he is meant to mix into Biscuits food and a promise to read up on veterinary magic, which is already way more than Morvran dared to hope for. Over the course of the day, he acquires all the bunny care essentials, with the help of various servants and a very enthusiastic Princess Cirilla. (The Princess took a single look at Biscuits little head sticking out of Morvran’s pocket and immediately offered her help in getting him set up, not a single question asked. Morvran has a hard time articulating his thankfulness, but settles for a small, honest smile that he hopes she understands. If the answering smile is anything to go by, she does.)
Amazingly enough, no one really bats an eye at his impromptu bunny acquisition. He gets a few curious looks from the rest of the Nilfgaardian party, but no one says anything. None of Kaer Morhen’s inhabitants seem to find anything strange about a prince walking around with a bunny in his pocket. The Warlord himself has taken to breaking off little pieces of the carrots he carries for horses and feeding them to Biscuit whenever he meets up with Morvran for his lessons. It is surreal and heartwarming in roughly equal measure.
Under Morvan’s loving care and with the help of Miss Merigold, Biscuit transforms into a healthy, happy bunny over the next few weeks. When the time comes to return to Nilfgaard, there is no sign left of poor health or malnutrition, which Morvran takes great pride in. He does consider for a while to leave Biscuit at Kaer Morhen. He would lead a safe and happy bunny life here, after all, and Morvran would not have to explain to the emperor why he returned from the warlord’s keep with a bunny of all things. He looks into Biscuits big dark eyes and throws the idea out immediately. Instead, he claims Biscuit to be a personal present from Princess Cirilla. A beloved pet that she entrusted to Morvran in a show of great trust and affection. The Princess is delighted to play her part, sending frequent letters inquiring about Biscuit’s health and disposition (regular letters, not sent with the ingenious little box that both Morvran and Cahir are sent home with, meaning that they are read by at least eight different people before ever making it to Morvran’s desk). His Majesty is, as a result, incredibly pleased and doesn’t question Morvran’s determination to care for the bunny himself at all.
Morvran is never quite able to explain what made him take a chance on the poor sickly bunny that day, when he had plenty of good reasons not to. Maybe it was an attempt to reclaim a part of his childhood that he had to give up unfairly early. Maybe a part of him thought that if he could find a second chance in Kaer Morhen’s walls, this bunny in front of him deserved one as well. But whatever it was what swayed his decision that day, he never stops being grateful for it.