How strange it may sound, this is the Yuri on Ice/The Witcher crossover you never thought you needed.
He clicked his tongue, telling the mare to walk on. He felt annoyed. Being dependant on a fickle thing as other people's words had proven itself to be a disappointment, yet again. It was like that now, for him and his dying breed.
Once esteemed, even revered, the witchers used to have it easy. Being the only ones that could cull beasts, they had been treated like royalty. Back when the world was new, when it first got the first blight-like visit from the human race. That was all in the past now. The humans had taken over, taken control over beast, elf and dwarf. Not intending of ever giving up that power or the land that came with it.
He sighed. Sometimes, he wasn't sure what was worst. The beasts he hunted or the beasts that told him to do it. It had started to get blurry, the lines between what was good and what was right. Sometimes, the situations he found himself in wasn't even close to being good. Or right.
So, there he was. On horseback with a measly payment clinking in his coin purse. People's words were indeed nothing to put trust in, anymore. He'd argued for more coin, the sum they'd agreed to before he ventured out to see what was wailing in the fields. When he came back, he was disappointed to receive just below half of the previous agreement.
He tugged at the collar of his armour. The leather was stiff after the altercation, smelly too. He couldn't wait to get out of it, maybe even bathe and, of course, drink. He wasn't sure what but it had to be alcohol. That was certain.
"What do you say, girl," he patted the mare on her neck. "Delightful way to spend Belleteyn, don't you think?"
The mare plodded on, without even a snort to tell him that she understood.
He saw Midcopse in the distance. He decided not to pass through. If he kept a higher pace, he would eventually reach Oreton, and after that… who knows? Following The Path wasn't a thing for people who liked to plan ahead. She was a fickle mistress, and accepting whatever she threw at him was the best lesson he ever learned. He was thinking of travelling north, seek contracts in and around the bigger cities to save up for travels to the south. The winters in Toussaint were actually pleasant.
As he felt the first drops of rain, he cursed. He gathered the reins and adjusted the sword that was strapped to his back. He would have to hurry. Getting wet was just as disappointing as not getting paid. As soon as he gave the mare a tap with his heels, she fell into a canter. She wanted to rest under a solid roof too.
The canter became a gallop once they passed the ruins of a manor, not grand and beautiful as it once was. Time, she was a cruel mistress too.
He approached a crossroad, knowing very well that steering right would take him a little more down to the south. To Oreton. But, something made him pull back on the reins of his golden mare. As the sound of her hooves became muted, he listened. Yes, there was a sound that got carried by the wind. No doubt about it. It was very faint, though, but his senses were heightened which made it loud enough.
It sounded like a cry. A cry for help? Yes, the tone was shrill, panicked. He decided that his mistress was showing him the way, taking him by the hand, as he spurred his mare in the opposite direction.
As he got closer, the cries became louder. Overpowering the sound of the galloping hooves. It came from the riverbed, he concluded.
Drowners, a whole hoard of them. But where did that cry come from?
He unmounted and drew his sword. Squinting slightly to focus. He needed to make sure that what had made that cry still was alive. Or dead, sometimes that happened too.
"No, please! Help me!"
Alive.
He sped up, prepared himself to clash into the disgusting disfigured beasts that once were men.
Six of them, not a problem. His fingers moved on their own accord, making the intricate sign that would blow them away. Literally. Aard!
As two of the beasts flew back into the water, he spun around, tried to locate the origin of the cries. A child, it seemed. He stepped in front, making sure that the drowners wouldn't get to it. A pirouette and a downward slash took care of the one approaching from the left. With his free hand, he pulled up a knife, and with movements that came instinctively, he sunk it into the base of the skull of yet another. He pulled it out, not even noticing the fleshy sound it made as brain matter and blood trailed behind it in an arch. He hurled it against a third monster, knowing very well that it would pierce through its eye. He didn't even bother looking to make sure.
The fourth, the only one still being on dry land, hunched down.
"Come here, fucker."
Two steps sideways and a double handed blow later, made the decapitation easy. Too bad his angle was wrong, he would have liked to spare the child of staring into the empty and glassy eyes as the head landed just next to it.
He flicked his blade, ridding it of blood, before he sheathed it. He stepped up towards the… boy? Yes, a boy. Young too.
"Don't look to your left. You're safe."
He had unusual features. His skin was another tint, with black hair. The eyes opened slowly. Peculiar shape, he wasn't from Velen. They looked like almonds. Of course, the almond-eyed boy looked to his left, and froze in disbelief. It was definitely his first time seeing something that dead, that close.
"Come." He held out his hand. As he understood that the boy wouldn't take his eyes off the disfigured head, he grabbed his elbow and pulled him up. He was a small and light child.
"I'm taking you home," he said as he put him in front of the saddle before mounting. "Where do you live?" No response, just a hanging head and two shaking hands against the mare's neck. "Do you have a name?"
He tapped the mare with his heels. The boy wasn't prepared for the movement, he had to put one arm around his waist to steady him, to prevent him from falling off. He felt the small hands grab his arm.
"Yuuri." The voice was low. Almost impossible to hear.
"What? Speak up."
"My name is Yuuri."
"Well, Yuuri. You were in luck today. Point me in the right direction, if you please. Your parents must be worried sick."
He had pointed, with a shivering hand attached to a quaking arm, in the direction of home. He couldn't stop shaking. Having that arm around his waist didn't help much, but… a little. He was safe now, but it felt like his body couldn't believe that fact.
They rode for a short time. He had been looking at the horse's mane, seeing how the black strands whipped back and forth as the head bobbed with every stride. The movements were new to him. He'd never been on a horse before. It felt like he was about to fall off as soon as he relaxed, so he stayed tense. Suddenly appreciating the arm around him a bit more. It was keeping him in place.
He dared to look over his shoulder a little. He wanted to see who had saved him, who this gift from above really was. He had long, silver hair. Braided back slightly. How unusual for a man. He seemed weathered to him. Like he'd been through a lot. The most peculiar thing about him, though, wasn't the long hair or the serious face. It was his eyes.
He looked like a cat. Amber eyes that reflected the light in an uncanny way, with vertical slits instead of pupils. He got the feeling that he should be scared, or at least have some kind of respect for him but… No, he felt enthralled. He hadn't seen him fight, but he had disposed of monsters, single handed. What was he?
He felt foolish as their eyes met. He knew that he was staring, and that was rude. His saviour raised his gaze again, chuckling. He couldn't understand what was funny. Grown-ups usually did that. Chuckled when something amused them, not really letting anyone in on the joke.
He saw the village up ahead. He was safe. He was home.
He dismounted. Moved slowly as the crowd started to gather. It was always like that. A witcher meant trouble these days, even if a contract was posted.
"I seek the parents of this boy!" He lifted his arms, pulled the child off the horse. He kept him in front of him, with his hands on his shoulders. He really needed adequate pay for this. "Is there anyone here to claim him?"
He saw people stir, parting in the back. A couple pushed through the crowd, hurrying to get to him. Or the boy.
"Are you his parents?" He wanted to make sure. He had told himself never to repeat that mistake ever again.
"Yes, yes! That's our boy! That's our Yuuri!"
It was definitely his family. They shared the same exotic appearance. There wasn't a possibility that they weren't related.
"Thank you, thank you master Witcher."
And now, for the discussion that was just as uncomfortable for him as it probably was for them.
"About myㅡ"
"Please, master Witcher! Stay with us tonight. It's Belleteyn," the father said, his voice sounded with a peculiar accent. "There will be food, drinks and love. You are in Claywich, after all!"
He spoke the truth. It was Belleteyn, the Blossoming. The fertility festival that said goodbye to spring and welcomed summer. And… usually relations of the flesh. How could he say no?
"I thank you. I'd be happy to accept."
"Then, it's settled," the father said as he watched his wife leading the boy away through the crowd. "Please, follow me. You must be, uh, longing for a bath? No?"
As a matter of fact, he was. Wearing armour, sleeping outside, getting drenched in all kinds of fluids… he knew what that did to him and his appearance.
He followed the man through the crowd that was slowly dispersing. Apparently, he and his wife owned the local inn. He decided it was worth as much as a payment in coin. To be able to sleep in a bed, with a roof over his head. With his belly full and his body clean. It was a stroke of luck to have come by that boy.
He sat on a chair, feeling warm hands comb out his newly washed hair. She was braiding him. It was a pleasant experience, he gathered.
"Master Witcher, thank you for saving my little brother."
He nodded. He bit back the standard response, like he always did. 'Don't mention it.' 'It was nothing'. Thing is, most of the time, saving someone was something indeed. But now, it felt like it was indeed nothing. Nothing that needed to be mentioned. He felt a little surprised. This was new to him.
"There. It looks lovely. You have such lovely hair."
She showed him the back of his head with a little hand mirror. His hair was braided intricately, almost making patterns. He had to laugh.
Flowers, even. Well, it's Belleteyn, after all.
"Thank you. Mari, was it?"
The girl beamed at him. That linen dress looked good on her. She probably should have laced it up a little more in the front, but it was Belleteyn. After all.
"So, master Witcher. Would you like to see the festival grounds?"
"Lead the way."
She took him by the hand, tugged him along. He smiled on the inside. His world consisted of two, no, three types of women. The ones that locked themselves in whenever he came their way. The ones that, much like the one pulling his hand, saw him as interesting and, also, the ones you could have for coin. They were usually the easiest to get along with. He knew where he stood with them.
She showed him every little nook and cranny of the village. He was polite, even though he found it extremely tedious. The festivities hadn't started. When she dragged him into the barn, he knew what she was after. He thought about it. Maybe it could act as a nice diversion. After all, he had saved her brother.
She was inexperienced. That was somewhat of a disappointment. She tried to make him interested, doing all sorts of things that would have been somewhat arousing but she tried too hard. She wasn't sure how to be a woman.
As she brushed up against him, trying to get access to his face with her own, steps could be heard. She shied away instantly.
Yes. Not quite a woman. Just yet.
"Master Witcher?" The little brother came through the door.
He had to bite back a smile. "Yes? What is it, Yuuri?"
"I… I have something for you." His arms were behind his back, hiding something.
He got down on one knee, coming down to his level. Looking into his brown eyes. "Oh?"
"Ye… yes! Here!" He held out a wreath of flowers and placed it on his head. "For tonight. For Belleteyn."
He wasn't sure, but it looked like this young boy was blushing. It was kind of endearing to see such a gesture from a boy. They weren't usually like that. Any other boy would have asked him to show his sword, asked about monsters, asked about kings, queens and everything inbetween. But not this boy. This almond-eyed little one.
"Thank you, Yuuri." He put his hand on his head and ruffled his hair a bit. "Happy Belleteyn."
"Happy Belleteyn… Oh! I… I don't know your name. Do you have a name, master Witcher?"
"I do. I usually don't tell people, but I can make an exception for you." He smiled. Which, in retrospect was strange to him. "Would you like that?"
The boy nodded. Once he started, it looked like he would never stop.
"Stop, stop and I'll tell you. There, good. I'm Victor."
"Victor?"
"Yes."
"Happy Belleteyn, Victor!"
He looked into those sparkling brown eyes, wondering what impact, if any, their meeting would have on this boy's remaining life. Not knowing that it already had set a lot of things in motion.