Chapter Text
He simply needed some alone time to reflect. Geralt hadn’t had time to digest the events that had transpired yet. Everything happened so quickly. Ciri had been a great distraction, but he knew deep down that the painful feelings would eventually catch up with him. He had lost her. His Yen.
How could he go on? How could he walk this world with the knowledge that she was no longer around? How could he sleep ever again and dream of her, of her eyes and smile, her wit, her touch, when he was condemned to never seeing her again?
Coming to terms with something like that hurt more than the deepest of wounds. Just when he was ready to finally mourn his loss, the door creaked behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"I'll be with you in a minute Ciri,” he muttered instinctively.
It took him a few seconds to realize that his heart was suddenly beating much faster.
Then it struck him. That fragrance.
No, this can't be real. Am I losing my mind?
But it smelled far too real. His Witcher senses rarely failed him. His pupils dilated as he slowly rose from the comfortable bed and turned around.
Yennefer, he gasped in amazement.
Is this a dream, he questioned reality for a moment.
Geralt took a few tentative steps towards her, absolute disbelief written on his face.
Yennefer returned his stare, wide-eyed and shocked, her expression mirroring his.
Destiny. No matter how far apart they were, no matter how heartbrokenly they parted, destiny always found a way to bring them back together. Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes it was a curse. This time, it was for sure an unexpected surprise.
What? What is he doing here?
Same as him, it took her several seconds for her mind to catch up with the situation. Geralt's stare made her weak in the knees. She felt instantly heated, dizzy. Vulnerable.
This can't be…
Before she managed to say anything, he moved in close, leaving barely a few inches between them. It was easy to read that this unpredicted meeting was as surprising for her as it was for him – her breath was heavy, unsteady, her heart racing.
“How is this possible,” she finally managed to whisper.
Realizing that her guard was off, she straightened up, trying to look less fragile than how she was feeling. The softness in his gaze was making it rather difficult for her.
The words rolled out of her lips, and to Geralt, it sounded like the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Her voice; he thought he would never hear it again. His gaze was drawn inexorably to her beautifully carved lips, the mere thought of kissing her again sending shivers down his spine.
She’s alive. She is here.
"I don’t care."
Whatever it was, whether fate, destiny, or coincidence, it didn't matter to him as long as she was there with him. Alive.
While she slid her hands down his shoulders and arms, he laid his hands on her waist, already feeling the familiar warmth. They were both attempting to establish that this wasn't just some beautiful but tragic, cruel dream.
My Yennefer. Mine, resonated in his thoughts as he gently stroked her cheek, making sure that she truly wasn’t just a figment of his own imagination. Making sure that she was alright. From what he had seen and heard, he was aware that she had gone through hell in Sodden. The guilt of not being there for her was weighing down on him, suffocating him, eating up on him. But the relief of learning that somehow, by some miracle, she got out of it all alive was stronger.
The force that brought them together and drew them towards each other whenever they were in close contact seemed to be stronger than ever. Their only option was to give in to it. She rested her forehead against his, allowing herself this moment of sweetness and comfort. Next to him, at that moment, she felt safe. Safe, but weak. And whenever she felt weak, she felt ashamed – being vulnerable wasn’t something that went with the image she created for herself. She turned her gaze down, looking for some integrity and strength within herself to keep her usual act on.
But Geralt wasn’t blind. He had known her long enough. Whatever the shimmer present in her gaze was, it was unusual to see Yennefer like this, so much so that he felt concern run through his veins. Losing her had opened his eyes. It made him see things that he didn’t want to see before; that he'd hurt her on several occasions, that he'd said many cold things he didn't really mean, and that his pride and stubbornness were often impediments to showing her how much he truly cared for her.
But I was blessed with one more chance,
he reminded himself.
He softly lifted her chin up with his finger, meeting eye to eye.
He could not wait any longer. Neither could she. Their lips collided in a kiss; soft and gentle, but with a hint of undeniable passion - a million loving thoughts condensed into one single moment. He drew her closer to him, needing to feel her body, the heat of it. Needing to feel her presence fully. If he could freeze this moment and spend the rest of eternity just like this, he would.
Their relationship was, at best, complex. It was tumultuous, unpredictable, full of angst and hurt, and occasionally just not right. But when they kissed, all of that was quickly forgotten. In moments like such, it didn't matter what had happened in the past or what would happen in the future. They had the now, the presence. And they always clung to it with their teeth and nails if necessary to make it last as long as possible.
As he trailed kisses down her chin, jawline, and the sensitive flesh of her neck, his grip on her waist tightened. Yennefer moaned softly, caressing his back before sliding her fingers into his hair, something she enjoyed doing. That scent. That scent was driving him insane. Feeling Yen shiver under his fingertips, he opened his eyes. That reaction wasn’t caused by pleasure. It was different.
"Don't stop....", she whispered, wishing nothing more than to get lost in the moment and forget everything else.
But Geralt had already noticed something. Something he did not like. He brought his hand to the collar of her black dress, pulling at it lightly, revealing more of her skin. His suspicion was right. There were marks, dark bruises. The pattern and shapes made him aware that these weren’t a result of a fall, but evidence left behind by someone who had mistreated her.
No…
His pupils dilated, and he gasped, his blood already starting to boil as he met her gaze again.
"Hmm."
It wasn't his usual hum, like the "I don't care" hum or the "I am thinking hard" hum or the "Yes, I like that" hum.
No. It sounded like a wolf growl, a savage sound filled with suppressed hatred and rage. He was evidently looking for answers in the hues of purple her eyes were, his jaw strained as he clenched his teeth.
Realizing what drew such a strong reaction from him, Yen trembled and immediately reached for the collar to pull it back up and conceal the marks she had no intention of showing to anyone. But Geralt shook his head, another growl exiting his mouth, nostrils blazing as he grasped both of her hands in his, halting her efforts. This wasn’t something he would allow her to just brush under the rug.
Before Yennefer could even say anything - something he knew would be an excuse, a falsehood, or an elusive answer - he drew her closer to him, piercing her gaze with his.
"You have to tell me, Yen. Now.”