Chapter Text
Loud, crowded, and almost unbearable. The company that surrounded you in the small tavern complimented your mind like butter and bread. It was a place of strange travelers, drunks, whores, and people low on their luck; not a place for a young lady to stray into. At least that was what you were raised to believe. Not once had you felt the pull into the dimly lit watering hole but for once you embraced it and reviled in it.
Now seeing for yourself, it seemed exactly a place for someone as yourself to drown themselves in. The laughter contagious among it’s guests, the drinks flowing freely ridding them of their daily woes and cares, folks hanging on each other publicly in ways that were enough to have made you blush. Though a few long faces here and there in the grouping, less and less seemed to be present the longer they stayed and the more they consumed. Grins and songs replaced their troubles and sorrow. This was the magic you seeked.
You had perched yourself at the corner of the bar closest to the door what seemed like hours ago. You had nursed a single pint of ale for a length of it hoping to ease the discomfort you felt in your new environment. The stares and wonder had done nothing to help your nerves. These people knew you, you had grown under the same sunsets and circumstances. They also knew why you were there, they had only been surprised that they had not seen you sooner. Though not many had seen your presence for months now and that alone was cause for stir and chatter.
One hour turned to two just as two had turned to three. Full pints had become empty passing between yourself and the bar countless times. The innkeeper questioned if it was moral to keep serving you but as long as the coins kept coming then the drinks continued in their place. You kept drinking hoping to find that mystical switch to lighten your heart and join the others’ boisterous existence.
Another drink slid your way just as a gust of cold wind and mist hit your back from the large wooden door that was thrown open behind you. The laughter and shouts died for a moment, the room suddenly becoming a low drone of mumbles as the presence from the door moved further into the room. From the corner of your blurred vision you could see the form dressed in a dark, rain soaked cloak make their way to the back of the tavern, away from the crowds. As they departed the mumbles slowly picked up until the regular volume had returned and filled the room to the walls. Though through the chatter whispers could still be heard around you, all aimed around the person who had forced a wall between the townsfolk and themselves. All was indisearnable to your foggy mind but the presence of the person had drawn you in just as much as the rest. This person was an outsider, a presence not expected among the regulars. Much like your own.
Your eyes couldn’t help but to watch them as they made themselves comfortable in the corner, curiosity finding itself embedded into you. No one approached the cloaked form as it seemed even the innkeeper was apprehensive. Instead the portly man busied himself with the last mug that landed on his bar, polishing a nonexistent fault along the side.
The person slowly discarded their belongings onto the wooden bench beside them, close by and within reach you noted. It was when they slowly lowered the hood of their drenched covering that you finally understood the clear atmosphere shift upon their arrival. The man’s stark white tendrils revealed themselves as they whispered over his shoulders along with the all telling wolf medallion that hung proudly against his chest. You’d told yourself possibly if you were a bit more sober you would’ve guessed his profession quicker by the obvious double swords that he had slung off his back. Though you had never heard tell of a witcher in your village previously, this was no anonymous monster hunter.
This was The White Wolf.
The Butcher of Blaviken.
Geralt of Rivia.
Even through your drunk haze you recognized that your stare was obvious and direct, but you couldn’t help but be entranced. A man of many stories and ballads sat mere feet away and how anyone could ignore that was almost blasphemous. Though from the sneers of the people around you it would seem his presence was not very welcome at all, let alone revered. But it seemed only natural in a room meant to pack away pain and loneliness that Geralt may find himself there. Surely even a witcher felt the pull of like-minded company once in a while.
“I understand that it’s a necessity but really wish he’d occupy someone else’s business” the innkeeper complained gruffly as he instinctively replaced your emptied tankard without another thought.
You slipped another coin across the bar and looked to the man fueling your stupor, “we all have our reasons to be here.”
“Yes but I don’t need any issues in my place of business.”
You looked around the tavern, seeing glares in the Witcher’s direction but not a single person with enough gall to do a thing more about it. These were farmers, merchants, and laborers. None even fit enough to be a soldier. You shook your head in slight annoyance but shifted your eyes back over to the witcher.
“Have we finally hired a witcher for the Gryphon through the pass?” You asked with little interest. A silence followed your question for a moment, a stutter finally escaping out of the mouth of the man beside you.
“A-aye, lass”
You nodded sharply and took a swig of the strong ale, “it’s about god damn time.”
You thanked the drink in your hand for not allowing your attitude or voice to waver, it was probably your only crutch. It seemed to be working just as you’d hoped, giving you a grasp on the parts of your personality that you weren’t even entirely sure you possessed.
You looked over the white wolf for a few more moments, watching as he scanned the room methodically, giving a moment to look at every person whose eyes sent daggers his way. Though the eyes he caught would quickly occupy themselves elsewhere at his sudden attention.
He continued his journey across the room until eventually his eyes landed on your own. They were hard and pointed, the golden hue radiating even from 30 feet away. And although somewhere inside of you shouted to look away, that it was rude to stare, the drunken state of your being dared you to hold his gaze. Dared you to not be the wallflower you were taught to be.
You held each other's eyeline for a beat, almost challenging the other to be the first to break it. At least that is how you viewed it though a more clear mind might have realized how odd it might be for a strange woman to be staring, unblinking, for an extended time. Still you would not be bested in this game you’d forced him into. His eyes left yours briefly as they trailed down your body before reaching back up to your focused gaze. Little did the witcher know that alone had just made the game a lot more interesting for you.
A smirk found it’s way nestled onto your lips as you finally turned your body away from him and back to the bar. Though it may have seemed you had given up on the game, truly you had only just begun. A whole new objective was in your view because that night truly was the night you were no longer holding back.
With another coin slid across the coarse wooden bar you ordered another ale, “for the witcher, a token of good fortune on his hunt.”
The innkeeper looked between you and the coin a few times, truly contemplating if he should have been going along with your request. Both for his reputation and the sake of your own drunken lack of critical thinking. Though coin was coin and he was never one to bite the hand that fed him.
His fingers snatched the beaten up metal from the bar and filled a cup with the warm frothy liquid from one of the casks that lay behind him. Despite his narrow glare he moved from around the bar and made his way to the white haired man in the corner, your eyes following his steps the whole way. A few words were spouted at the witcher before the cup was all but shoved onto the table in front of him, giving him no time to respond or reject the drink.
As the stout man left him alone with a full cup, Geralt’s eyes drifted back over to you. You weren’t sure if he knew it was from you because of the innkeeper’s words or if he had just assumed given your silent interaction, you were just satisfied that you had his attention. With a small smirk in his direction you lifted your own cup in a toast to the witcher from where you sat. The small flame that burned in your lower abdomen was only beginning to be stoked as he returned the gesture with a slight gentlemanly tilt to his head. But if your imagination for the night went as you hoped, there would be little chivalry left for him to give you.
You had heard the baseless rumors of witchers not having emotions, but surely they felt pleasure. And you’d heard through filtered mouths that they certainly gave it just as well. It piqued your interest enough for your inebriated mind to set it’s goal. What a better way to heal your wounds than underneath a man forged and ready for battle. Your already flushed skin brightened and tingled at the thought. The air of danger that kept others at bay only heightened your desire.
You’d left Geralt to sit with the drink for an extended time before making any further move. Your intention was not to bother him, you wouldn’t even hold it against him if he immediately rejected your presence, but as two similarly occupied people you already held common ground.
With one more hefty gulp of your ale you took a deep breath to fill your lungs and your courage before slipping off of the wooden stool you had made yourself comfortable on. The innkeeper watched as you found your clumsy footing, shaking his head at the sight before turning his back to you. He served you your fill but you were absolutely not his problem outside of that.
You leaned over to grab the almost empty cup in your hands. Now that you were standing upright the room seemed to spin just a bit more than it had been before. The chair to your right made a clattering ruckus as you reached for it to catch your balance. A few eyes drifted over to see what the noise was about but the one person you had your eyes on kept his own casted down, not seeming to even flinch at the clamour.
Once you were sure that you would not fall over, you set one foot in front of the other until you found yourself right at the edge of the table where the witcher sat. Still though he didn’t lift his gaze to you and that alone made your confidence falter. But you already laid a foundation for the interaction, you may as well see it through. You quickly swallowed the doubt down and took a seat across from the man, setting your cup gently down on the table in front of his own.
“It’s been a long time since these folk had anything to talk about outside the business of others,” you spoke out casually, albeit slightly slurred.
“Speaking from the receiving end?” He asked, still not bothering to lift his eyeline to your presence. His voice rumbled from his chest, erupting gruffly from his lips in a way you did not expect. You’d heard his voice described as frightful and threatening, a sound foretelling death. And you were positive it held that capa bility but in no story, rumor, or song was his voice ever described as enticing as it truly was. How his tone alone was more intoxicating than anything in that bar.
You caught yourself letting out a short breathless chuckle, “Before you walked in I’m pretty sure I was the topic of the night.”
“Is there that much to speak of?” He asked with feigned interest but you took whatever he gave you.
“Around here there doesn’t need to be more than a whisper of drama. They’ll latch on to anything.” You lifted your mug to take another large swig, “It seems really I should be thanking you, though I’m not quite sure you’d share the same sentiment”
Geralt let out a deep hum of acknowledgement.
“People just fear what they don’t know or care to understand,” you commented, taking a second to glance around the room. There were a few people still muttering amongst themselves while peeking over their shoulder to where you sat with the witcher. You could only imagine what they could be saying but couldn’t be bothered to suss it out nor the capability. They would talk no matter what anyone did, at least now what they spoke about was on your own terms
“And I suppose you dont?” Geralt asked from behind his drink.
“Of course I do, but you can never know everything.” You shrugged, “So why live in that fear?”
The two of you sat without another passing word for a few moments. Geralt certainly did not seem the type to outwardly attempt to carry a conversation, especially given his short responses. Though you felt honored enough that he didn’t seem to be immediately put off by your being there to begin with.
You gave the witcher your name as you brought your attention back to him. He gave you a slight nod but gave no reciprocation, not that it was needed. There wasn’t a soul in there who didn’t know who he was.
“Let me thank you with a drink,” You offered, turning your torso forward against the table. Your chest pressed against the edge of the worn wooden tabletop accentuating the fullness of your breasts above the neckline of your simple dress. The witcher’s sharp eyes drifted up for just a moment, so fast you weren’t sure if your inebriated mind was playing tricks on you given the track your mind was already headed before you walked over.
Before you could think on the moment further, Geralt tapped his gloved finger on the cup in front of him, “You already did.”
He lifted his gaze up to meet yours. Finally finding eye contact you were able to see him much clearer than you had been able to from across the room and you found the event almost sobering. The candle that danced on the table in the stillness between you emitted a soft light, highlighting and shadowing over his features delicately despite his rough surface. The air around the legendary witcher was intimidating enough but to hold the stare of him this close was almost suffocating. His face held fine lines and harsh scars but within that was immeasurable beauty. As if crafted specifically in this way by the gods themselves.
You shook your head slightly, realizing your prolonging stare, “With me, I mean.” You admitted, “And possibly a round of gwent for the company.”
“Sounds like more of a gesture for yourself than for me” Geralt pointed out.
“Humor me, just one drink,” you assured him.
“Are you sure that’s all you're after?” He suggested. A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corner of Geralt’s lips as he locked eyes with you once again. His mesmerising stare digging, pulling at whatever strings you left exposed. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment at his direct implication along with the beginnings of bashfulness bubbling in your stomach.
Geralt wasn’t dumb and a part of you was glad for it but that made it all more overwhelming. The meek girl you held yourself to be threatened to return as you found yourself at a loss. But something in the tone behind Geralt’s rugged voice, his salacious wandering eyes, the whispers in the air all culminated to reveal a power you never felt before. Never had you been in a situation where you felt such influence in the turn of events. You’d obeyed the forces that controlled your life with grace as you had been taught to and it all left you astray or alone. But this? This you had brought upon yourself and it seemed Geralt was just as willing to let it play out if you’d decided to continue.
And with one more glance at the virile man in front of you, oh were you wanting to continue.
“We’ll see when I win,” you willed yourself forward, “unless you’re nervous to lose to a woman.”
“Not at all.”
“Then decks on the table, witcher.” You smiled over at him. You turned your body once more to signal the innkeeper to bring over two more mugs of ale for you and your company. Too much coin had been spent at that point but by now considered it a night of indulgence in many ways.
With newly poured drinks on the table you each set your decks for a game; shuffling before pulling out 10 cards from each to begin the first round. Avoiding a coin toss altogether Geralt offered you the first move of the game, though you wondered if that was a strategy you accepted the turn. You scanned your cards quickly, comprehending each mostly by picture memory as your vision was still plenty hazy.
“I hear you're in town for the Gryphon,” you mentioned casually as you laid down your first card.
Geralt glanced over to your play before looking at his own hand,“Word really does travel fast.”
“Have you had any sightings of it yet?”
“I found it’s nest in a cave north of the fields but it wasn’t home,” He answered, setting down his own card. “How long has it been around?”
Your eyes drifted a little longer on your cards, the words standing out a bit more in a sobering moment. “First victim in town was about 4 months ago. Been a few since then.”
Gerald’s eyebrow quirked slightly. “Board was only posted a couple weeks ago,” he noted.
You let out a scathing snort before you were able to catch yourself. “Then it finally took someone that people felt mattered” you mumbled, playing a card without looking. It seemed to work in your favor however as it took out the cards Geralt had already laid out in a single move.
Still he didn’t falter as he carried on with his next move, “That's usually how it goes.”
You continued the game in a comfortable exchange, only voicing comments on moves or cards. You concentrated a little harder on your plays, ensuring you’d won the first round though Geralt quickly overtook the second. The third round seemed like a perfect storm for each of you. Every card being an equal challenge as the one before. You could have been almost completely sober from the card game if it wasn’t for the drink you’d been nursing to your side the entire time.
Geralt watched you as you took your time deciphering your cards, admiring your dedication. “Where did you learn gwent?” he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and he leaned back in his chair patiently, “Don’t seem like the gambling or drinking games type.”
You glanced up at him watching you, feeling your cheeks warm slightly at his attention, “You can tell all that, huh?”
He was good at deciphering people and situations, it was such a part of his profession that it was inevitably ingrained in him. You’d just wished your imposter syndrome wasn’t so evident.
“Someone taught me a while ago, never really got to play much outside that,'' you admitted simply, sparing him details. You finally chose a card out of the two left in your hand and placed it onto the table.
Geralt chuckled softly as he leaned forward on his elbows, “So you were trying to hustle me?”
The unexpected drop in his walls and warm laugh lifted your mood immediately in a way you didn’t foresee. Your smile hesitantly grew along with his as you also let a laugh escape your lips.
“Trying?” You teased.
Geralt flipped over his last card and slid it into the playing field. You leaned closer to see exactly what it was. Your shoulders went slack at the discovery of a card that dominated half of the cards you played for the round. With those out of the way it didn’t even matter what your last card was, the last round was over and he’d won by a landslide. Your smile dissipated at the reveal while Geralt’s only grew.
“Trying,” he stated the fact.
With a deep sigh you took your drink and downed the last half of it in two short gulps.
“Hey, slow down,” Geralt urged as you placed the empty mug back onto the table sloppily. Honestly it was probably anything but attractive but you were past caring.
“Well, you won witcher. What will your prize be?” You asked, a smile curling to the side of your lips as you leaned to the table again. Geralt gathered his gwent deck off the table as he looked at you once again. There was something behind his look but you couldn’t quite read it before he stood up, taking you by surprise. Is he leaving?
“I think you’ve been here long enough,” He commented, taking his swords and swinging them onto his back, “I’ll take you home.”
His words excited you. His intentions were to leave with you, you truly were on the same page. You couldn’t help the full toothed grin you gave as you stood to your feet. Once again the alcohol rushed through your body, suddenly making everything move faster than you were. Your eyes could barely focus on the man in front of you before you felt your body tip. Reaching for the side of the table you attempted to catch yourself through a lack of depth perception.
Geralt quickly reached, grabbing your arm before you slipped too far and held you up roughly, saving you from further embarrassment nonetheless. He brought you back up to your feet with both hands gripping your biceps, steadying you straight.
“Look at you,” you giggled, lifting your hands to hold onto his forearms as you found your footing, “Maybe they should give you a knighthood instead.”
Geralt shook his head with no amusement, “You’ll have to ride with me.”
“Is that just an excuse to get closer to me?” You asked with a softer laugh, your hands moving up his arms to rest on his armor clad chest. Geralt moved back slightly from your grasp and moved his hand to lay softly at your lower back. He had no answer for you other than to push you forward towards the entrance of the tavern. You knew people were watching, wondering, talking. All about the prospect that made your body tingle with anticipation. How scandalous this was that the witcher was leaving at this hour with you.
The rain had stopped pouring outside leaving nothing but a cold and damp wind to blow through the fields and against the wooden structures of town. The drinks warmed your blood quite a bit but the chill of night bit at you. The feeling of a large cloak being draped across your shoulders kept the radiating warmth close to your body. Geralt’s cloak was still damp but the gesture itself caught your heart in the middle of a beat. No one had ever done anything so … romantic?
“This is Roach” He spoke gruffly as he led you to a pretty brown mare. You greeted the horse with garbled speech but even drunk you knew respect for an animal.
Geralt hastily untied the painted horse you directed him to as yours and secured it’s lead to Roach’s side. You watched him as he concentrated on the task at hand. It did something for you, there was no denying. The way he moved with such purpose, securing and checking like a list in his head until he finally turned to face you once again. This time he marched up to you, causing you to flinch back slightly as he crowded your body to Roach.
“What are yo-” Your voice was halted. Geralt put both his hands on your hips and flipped you around so your back was facing his chest. The tear between excitement to have his hands on you mixed quickly with the nerves of what he was doing. Your feet left the ground as he lifted you upwards, slinging you onto the saddle until it was just under your stomach.
“Swing your leg over, don’t fall off the other side,” He commanded as he scooped your left foot into his hands, giving you leverage as you brought your leg over the saddle. You gripped Roach’s neck gently to move forward and push yourself into a sitting position. Geralt lifted himself onto the saddle and sat himself directly behind you, his chest settling against your back. The saddle left no room between your bodies but immense amounts of room for your imagination to run wild feeling his hips settle against your backside.
“Which way?” Geralt asked as he reached his large arms around you to grab the reins and move the horses out of the yard.
You curled the cloak closer around your body in the open air of night, “On the outskirts towards Oxenfurt.” Geralt grunted a response behind you and willed Roach to pick up the pace in the direction you had said. As your body moved with the saddle and the world spinning to your vision, you couldn't help but to lean your weight into Geralt for support. He recognized your inability to keep yourself up and dropped his hands to rest on your thighs, ensuring you would not tip sideways off the saddle.
A breathy laugh left your lips as your head lolled to the side, resting your cheek on Geralt’s chest. He had no idea why you were laughing but he wrote it off as just you being drunk without a question. In reality it was how considerate he was being and how it was such a stark difference to what people thought of him. You knew he wasn’t making a pass at you or had any lewd motives behind him scooting ever closer to you, but there was something charming about it. As much as you wished otherwise, however there was plenty of time for that.
The entire ride was silent but you revelled in the feeling of his arms around you and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly behind you. You found yourself growing comfortable against him, how safe it felt with him behind you. You hadn’t quite felt that before.
“It’s the one on the other side of the creek” You pointed out across the bridge. Your home was a decent way away from the center of town. In fact it was the furthest within village limits, made it easier to keep to yourself and not have folks peering into your windows over the past few months. However you did deal with your fair share of traveling merchants knocking on your door.
Upon reaching the small home Geralt quickly lowered himself off the horse and tied both to the stall and overhang that was attached to the side. You patiently waited for him to return to your side, knowing that any attempt to dismount yourself would end with you lying face first in the mud. He used his hands to steady you as you slowly swung your leg back around the saddle and lowered yourself. Geralt’s hands never left your waist until you finally had both feet firmly on the ground. You turned to face him as he finally moved his hands off of you much to your dismay.
“Well,” you said in just above a whisper, “coming in?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you turned and started towards the front door. Your heart rate elevated quickly as you realized this was actually happening. You had Geralt just within your grasp, even you’d known you had gone on a limb when you approached him at the tavern…and here he was now, at your home.
Still you stumbled slightly as you made it through the door. Darkness covered the interior making it that much harder for you to keep upright as you used your hands to feel around for matches to light the candles you used during the dark hours of the day. You moved in further as Geralt closed the door behind himself and gave a quick wave of his arm. Suddenly the candles in the room were lit aflame and the room was visible.
You knew it was small and had not been cleaned in a long while with items placed haphazardly around the room. Certainly not in the condition for guests of any kind, even the kind that intended to be gone by morning light, but you’d come too far to be worried about the state of your organization. You doubted Geralt cared all that much either as he barely looked around the room as you tottered back towards him. Sauntered was what you were going for.
You ogled the sizable man that stood in your doorway. How absolutely breathtaking he was despite the clear wear of his clothing and grime that collected on his hair and skin. You could hardly focus on that as you neared him, only being able to anticipate what was underneath all that. By his ease of catching and tossing you around you could only imagine how else he’d use those abilities.
“You’ve probably heard it before but…” you started, reaching your hand out shakily to rest it back on Geralt’s chest. This time he didn’t recoil. You took a breath as you slowly glided it upwards, feeling every inch from his chest to the skin of his neck before finally resting on his cheek. Finally touching the witcher sent shockwaves through your fingers down to your toes.
“You’re rather beautiful” you finished your hanging thought. Geralt had no response as he looked over your body as you moved in closer and closer until you were inches away from each other. You locked eyes, losing yourself completely. Without any further prompt you pulled Geralt downwards to your height and crashed your lips to his hastily. Geralt caught himself on your hip roughly as you pushed him backwards, allowing you to move him back until he hit the door.
Overwhelmed by the sensation and your own lust you didn’t bother to notice Geralt’s reaction to your taking the plunge and making the first move. All you could focus on was the feeling of his hands on your hips, his lips on yours, his beard against your skin, his body towering over yours. Although the alcohol in your system slowed down your ability to think straight still your mind was filled with a million thoughts and feelings.
Your hands moved from his neck and face down to the front of body, finally reaching the buckles of the armor that covered his chest. You fumbled with them as you refused to break away from the kiss that fueled cravings. But suddenly the grip that was once on your body grasped your hands wholly, stopping you from making any further attempt at the fastenings.
Geralt gently pushed you backwards and off of him completely.
“Hey,” he spoke softer than you ever thought him capable of, “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
You were dumbstruck as your mind was still reeling from the kiss, “W-what? Why?”
“You’re drunk.”
You shook your head, “What does that matter?” You attempted again to move towards him. Geralt quickly held his hands to your shoulders, pushing you backwards again.
“Hey, stop” Even through rejection his voice made your heart race. “This isn’t what you need.”
You snorted unattractively at his statement. He had no idea how much you needed this.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what I need.”
He shook his head, “You’re trying to mask something.”
You stopped all advancement quickly. Mask something? Desire was immediately replaced by defensiveness. How dare he. He knew nothing. Knew nothing about your feelings and certainly nothing about your life. How could he even begin to make such baseless accusations.
“You’re making a big assumption, witcher” You bit. If he was concerned about your intoxication you were certain to be sober now, “You know nothing about me.”
“Who was it?” Geralt asked, not flinching away or even blinking at your sudden turn in tone.
You let out an exasperated laugh, putting even more distance between you and the man as you turned your back to him. “Who was what?”
“Who did you lose?”
The air in the room suddenly turned colder as all movement came to a halt. Even the breath that filled your lungs seemed to escape completely, leaving you utterly empty. How was this possible? How could he guess something like that? Your heart clenched at the flood of emotions you had attempted to escape the entire night.
“My… fiance,” you admitted in a low mutter. Your eyes shut forcefully as you wrapped your arms softly around your body. The immense and staggering feeling of loneliness creeping back into your being. You felt the familiar tightening of your throat that you had felt many times before but not feeling any tears to follow. You had cried all that your body could muster already.
“How long ago?” Geralt questioned softly.
“4 months.”
“From the Gryphon.” It wasn’t a question, he already knew. You realized this wasn’t a revelation to him, somewhere in the span of time you had engaged with him he figured you out. Hindsight it was no big surprise, you were not the first lonely and broken dame he has come across and you were sure not to be the last. He dealt with people and their losses with every contract he accepted.
You slowly walked over to the bed that sat in the corner of the room. Your body no longer having the energy or will to even stand on its own. Geralt however stayed near the door, unmoving from where you had left him.
“My parents all but sold me off to get married, using the dowry as a business proposition for them to sail to Ard Skellig for better work and a better life. It was the perfect set up to leave me behind.” You spoke. Geralt did not indicate any interest in elaboration but he made no attempt to stop you either.
So you continued, “He was my childhood friend. There were never any real feelings between us but he put his own future on the line to ensure my own. I was wholly grateful to him and to have a partner to count on.”
The flood of memories you had fixated on for months returned to the forefront of your mind as you spoke.
“Where are his parents?” Geralt broke up your speech.
“I haven’t seen them since his death. They put a lot of blame on me for it.” Your eyes casted downwards, “He was in the meadows that day collecting herbs. Normally it would have been mine to do but… I wasn’t feeling well that day…”
As you trailed off into silence Geralt finally broke from his static position by the door. Although you didn’t look up at him, you felt his presence make its way towards you until the bed dipped slightly as he took a seat. There was a beat of silence between you until he asked another question.
“Do you blame yourself?”
You clenched the fabric in your lap roughly. A part of you wanted to be angry at the clear invasiveness of the question. But the other part of you ached immensely at his incredible insight.
Now you felt the telltale burn in your eyes. “How can I not?” you whimpered, “If I had gone then it wouldn’t have happened. If I had just been there instead the-”
“Then it may have been you.” Geralt finished.
“Exactly. And maybe it should have been,” Your voice pitched up. “What if that was my destiny? What if I cheated death only to send him to his own?”
You crumpled over, your hand meeting your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sob that made its way out of your body. You had never said these thoughts out loud and now you were spilling out to a complete stranger. All these feelings you had kept to yourself for months all unloading in a heap. And to your horror it was both terribly agonizing and horribly embarrassing.
“Shit,” You choked out through your tears. This night was not going anywhere as intended. Crying to a stranger you had brought home to sleep with was definitely not on the list.
And just as you thought of the unfortunate man that sat next to you, the bed dipped ever so slightly as he scooted closer. The weathered leather of Geralt’s glove grazed your back and rested there just above your shoulder blade. You could tell it was not habitual for him to comfort another but you accepted his attempt, leaning into his shoulder as the tears fell.
He let you stay that way, stroking down your arm until your cheeks were dry. There was no telling how long it was but it was enough for you to realize he was right. You craved and needed the closeness of another soul but not in the way you thought. You would be forever grateful for the therapy Geralt provided you that night.
Your breathing finally returned to normal but neither you nor Geralt made a move to separate from each other. You were content to lean on him, your hands resting in your lap picking at the hem of your dress as you enjoyed the slower than normal beat of his heart in your ear. In turn it almost felt as if he was soothed by the intimacy between you that was completely unassociated with physicality. When was the last time he experienced vulnerability with another person in such a way?
Geralt was the first to talk aloud.
“No one can cheat their destiny,” Somehow in the absence of speaking you had forgotten that deep nature of his voice. And even through the tumultuous night it still brought a flutter to your heart even through his troubling words.
You shook your head, “So this is it?” you questioned. “The village either sees me as a hapless girl or some kind of black widow? I’ve resorted to trying to get a man in my bed just to feel something other than self-pity. This is the life I’m destined for?”
“I’m a witcher, not a fortune teller.”
You stuttered at his quick response but couldn’t help sudden fold in your body as it was overcome with laughter. You were not even sure if he meant it to be as funny as you found it but still the lightness of the comment was exactly what you needed. Your heart warmed as you looked over to the white haired man cracking his hard exterior to share in a soft chuckle along with you.
“Thank you, Geralt.” You placed a hand on his knee as it brushed against your own, “Thank you for listening tonight and thank you for taking the contract. I’m sure you’re not making what you deserve but I’m grateful that you’re here.”
And you truly couldn’t mean those words more sincerely.
Geralt nodded his head at the sentiment and squeezed your arm softly as he moved to stand up from the bed. You watched as he straightened his stiff armor and began to move to the door.
“Drink some water before you sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“Wait,” you called, slipping off the bed and onto your feet, “Are you leaving?”
“I’m still not fucking you.” He stated candidly.
“No, no!” you forced out quickly, that was definitely not what you were meaning even if it did still sound tempting. “I meant…you can stay here, save the coin on a room. My house is closer to where the Gryphon is. It’s more convenient.”
Geralt studied your face as he thought on the offer. You knew this must have been yet another thing the witcher was deprived of on a regular basis. A real bed outside of the cheap settings of an inn or the hard ground of the outside had to be tempting.
“I don’t have another mat but the bed is made for two people. There’s plenty of room for both of us,” You continued your attempt to convince him. “I promise that’s all it is, no ulterior motives.”
The white haired man still looked skeptical as his eyes moved to look at the bed in the corner. He was leaning more and more into the thought as the silence between you grew. After a brief moment of uncertainty, Geralt finally moved away from the door.
“I’ll be gone before the sun is up,” He stated as his hands moved to the buckles keeping the large swords strapped to his back. You nodded quickly in understandment but still you couldn’t help the smile that made itself across your face.
You made your way back to the bed and watched as Geralt continued to strip down from his armor. Layers upon layers being shed until he stood in just his trousers and a linen shirt, the neckline dipping down to show the expanse of his chest. He looked back to you as your stare never moved away from him.
“Uh..”
“Oh, oh gods, I’m sorry. Right after I just said...” You muttered, moving your hands over your face as you let out an awkward breathless laugh. As you sobered it seemed your shrinking violet personality came to a resurgence. It seemed possible that you were not the hardened woman you wished to be. After the situation it got you in tonight maybe it just wasn’t in the cards and maybe it was for the best.
“Um, here hold on,” you moved to a chest at the foot of the bed. It was filled to the brim with random items but towards the bottom was what you seeked. “I still have some of Stoltald’s things. You can wear this to sleep. It’s clean.”
You held out a simple pair of linen trousers and a tunic towards the man. He seemed hesitant to take it from you but as you held it out further he reached with a nod of appreciation.
You pointed over to the wooden panel in the corner of the room, “I’m going to change behind there. Just for privacy, let me know when you’re decent.”
The house you occupied wasn’t large, it was just enough for two people to move comfortably around and sleep at the end of the day’s work. You moved around the large witcher with your own sleeping clothes in hand. It was hard not to feel the warm blush that crossed your cheeks as you heard the telltale fastenings of Geralt’s clothes being stripped down to be replaced by those he was borrowing.
With a deep breath to calm down your nerves you also changed in the silence. The gesture was purely out of gratitude and good will but you couldn’t deny the anxiety that burrowed into your stomach. This wasn’t the first time you had slept in the same bed as a man, you had slept in this very bed with Stoltald through your betrothal. But even that was different, there was never a time it so much as crossed into the realm of romance or even sensuality. Certainly not how your carnal urges seeked out Geralt.
“Are you done?” You called out.
“Yeah.”
You pushed yourself off the wall where you waited and moved from behind the panel. Any butterflies that you were able to contain in your body quickly resurfaced at the sight in front of you. Halting in your step you were met with the witcher clothed only in the pants he was given but his upper body completely naked, exposing his chest and back to the cold air in the room.
Geralt’s body was littered with scars and old gashes, a clear sign that his work was not easy nor painless. But also a sign of his resilience and strength. Especially as underneath the effects of his labor were defined muscles, more than you had ever seen on a regular man. Geralt’s eyes met yours as you finally broke your stare.
“The shirt was too small,” and you could see why, he was built brawn as ever. “I can put on my old one if that is more comfortable for you. It just might be dirty.”
“No, no.” You shook your head maybe a little too fast, “There’s no need, as long as you’re comfortable that way.”
“Are you?” It was a valid question. “It makes most people uncomfortable.”
Wow, the comment was rather egotistical. Did he sleep around that many people like this? And did you seem so innocent or lacking self-control that you couldn’t handle having him shirtless around you?
“I’ve been around half naked men before,” You quipped back. Your sharp tone made Geralt crack a smile.
“Not really what I meant,” Geralt admitted. You quirked an eyebrow in question but as your eyes dipped down to his chest once you almost groaned audibly in humiliation. He meant his scars. He was being considerate that the state of his body could make you uncomfortable. But more than anything you felt bad that it was even a thought he would have. That what he had been through was just another thing people judged him on.
You sighed softly and shook your head again before making your way past him and over to the bed. “It’s a sign of your valor, nothing less.”
Geralt hummed from behind you, seeming happy enough to take your answer and drop the subject.
“Now I’m not sure what hour it is but we should both probably get some rest,” You continued as you crawled onto the far side of the bed nearest to the wall. Geralt blew out the candles around the room before making his way back to the bed where you lay watching his moves. You rolled slightly to untuck the blanket from under you and invite him underneath.
Geralt carefully slid himself into the bed in the open spot next to you, cautious to not get too close and to allow you both enough space. He rested his head on the pillow beneath him and closed his eyes facing towards the ceiling. You, on the other hand, faced him. Only the moonlight bleeding in through the windows providing enough light to still see his face and his ever furrowed brow. You hated to admit the urge you had to brush the white as snow hair away from his face as his breathing slowed to will himself into relaxation. You knew he would never truly let down his guard through the night, you weren’t sure if there ever was a moment in his life where he felt that comfort. But something in you wished you could provide the same comfort he gave you that night. The comfort that would smooth away the creases in his face, untense his rigid muscles, have him feel peace for just a moment.
“Stop staring at me and get some sleep,” Geralt huffed out, his eyes not opening but his tone light.
“Sorry,” you breathed out in a whisper, your lips curling into a sheepish smile. You forced your eyes shut, focusing on the sounds of night to lull you to sleep. The wind against the wooden slats of the house, the bugs in the forest beginning their nightly routine. The slow heartbeat of the man next to you. The deep breaths he took in and out from his nose.
Your eyes slowly peeled open again to observe the witcher. There was no helping it. There was something so utterly alluring about him that it was hard to help yourself. Especially given that the chances of seeing the white wolf again in your lifetime were little to none, especially in such a setting. Nor were the chances very high of being in bed with someone quite this attractive. You hadn’t even had sex with him and you were sure he ruined all other men for you.
Geralt spoke your name firmly, opening his eyes to meet yours. His golden eyes reflected off the moon making them all the more bright and intense.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you quickly spoke, shutting your eyes immediately. He groaned and you felt the bed dip slightly. Geralt moved closer and grabbed your arm, pushing you to lay on your back swiftly.
“What are you do-”
“Turn around,” He commanded. There was no aggression in his tone but it was stern enough for you to not question and only obey.
You flipped carefully on your other side to face the wall and the window that allowed the moon to peak over the treetops. The bed dipped and creaked further as Geralt moved up behind you, his bare chest meeting your back much like it did when you were inebriated on the back of Roach. Except this time you could feel the heat radiating off his body through the thin fabric of your chemise. Your heart just about broke through your chest as the blood rushed to your face.
“Sleep,” Geralt whispered softly in the darkness. His arm snaked around your waist as he pulled you to him, enveloping you in the warmth and safety of his body. He made no further move, no further intentions, just as he had said. His only aim being to hold you until sleep overcame you both.
You hadn’t felt that level of care and safe keeping since you were a child. And quickly you let that warmth take over your body until the moonlight went dark from behind your eyelids.
By morning you were alone, left only with the sensation of the strong arm that wrapped around your stomach during the night and the evidence of another body under the crumpled blankets left next to you. Disappointment washed over you at the lack of the witcher that graced your presence but you knew it was to come. He warned you early enough.
Still, a soft smile grew on your lips as you thought of the witcher, whispering a short wish for luck to be on his side. And also a small indulgent wish that it would not be your last time seeing him. Destiny had not been a friend in this lifetime so far, yet with the fateful meeting of the famed witcher you hoped there was a shift.