Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, concepts, or Universe.
Summary: Be careful what you wish for in a moment of fear. Geralt, Yennefer, One-shot.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing anything based in the Witcher universe. I was leant the books by my boyfriend some time ago and fell in love with them. I've spent the last week watching him play through the newest game (I'm utterly useless at actually *playing* them) and it rekindled my desire to write something. I've always been camp Yennefer (sorry Triss fans).
Enjoy!
"What would you like for dinner tonight, Yen?"
Yennefer cast her violet gaze over the merchant's wares. Bread, rabbit, venison, greens, potatoes.. she shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever you feel like, Geralt."
She heard him sigh slightly. "I don't know. We could get some bread and steaks…"
"Yeah, sure, if that's what you want."
"Well do you want something else? You don't seem particularly enthused about it."
"I'm just… whatever, Geralt. Bread, steaks, sounds good."
"Alright. Brown bread? White? Seeded?"
Yennefer growled slightly in the back of her throat. Not wanting to make a scene in the middle of a bust marketplace by giving voice to the frustration she felt building inside her, the sorceress turned and swept away from the market, not caring where she went.
A door slammed. Yennefer jumped slightly, realising that she was sat in a large overstuffed armchair. How had she gotten here? Where was here?
"Yen?"
Geralt's voice. Yennefer heaved herself off of the armchair, feeling strangely lethargic. She saw his white hair framing his face as he came into the room, holding a large brown paper bag. "Got dinner," he smiled, before retreating back into the corridor.
Following him slowly, feeling as though she were wading through mud, Yennefer saw him unpacking the large paper bag. Venison steaks. Bread – seeded. The sorceress frowned. She hated seeded bread. She couldn't stop herself. She couldn't…
"Geralt! You know I hate seeded bread. I always have. Do you ever listen to me?!"
Geralt turned to face her, his half pony swinging. Now that she looked at him properly, something didn't seem right.
"Well maybe, Yennefer, if you'd have listened to me, you could have chosen the bread yourself." Geralt rolled his eyes before turning back to his bag of groceries.
Yennefer's mind was spinning. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't –
"Damn. Forgot the mushrooms. One of us'll have to go back to the market… or there might be some left over in the pantry.,,"
"Geralt." Yennefer's voice was not much more than a whisper, but it held a hard edge.
"Yes?" he answered, still facing the bag.
"Look at me. Look at me!"
It seemed almost in slow motion that the white haired Witcher looked up from what he was doing and into Yennefer's eyes. To the sorceress, it seemed like the kitchen bled away to nothing, leaving only Geralt's face. Her breath caught. No scars. His face was flawless, not a single mar. His amber eyes, no different to anyone else's. It was as if…as if…
"G-Geralt? No… who are you?"
"What's the matter, Yen? You got what you wanted. Aren't you happy?"
Snow. There was snow falling. She couldn't feel the cold. There were the mutilated remains of a Wyvern. Snow. On the mountain…
"Aren't you happy?"
Geralt was smiling at her, his teeth showing. His flawless face.
Blood. Where did the blood come from? There it was, dripping from that perfect mouth. There it was, dripping down his chin. Blossoming through the front of his tunic. So much of it. So red. The smell of it.
"Aren't you happy?"
It was staining his teeth.
She was not in control of her body. She tried to turn, to run away, to run towards him, anything. Her mouth was moving without her consent. That voice – she knew that voice. Her voice. Make it stop. Make it –
"Enough! No more. I just wish we could live a normal life!"
She couldn't stop the words. Tears were flowing down her face, unchecked.
Blood was covering his face. Flowing down his eyes from scars that were missing. Flowing over those beautiful amber eyes. Still the tears flowed.
"Geralt. Geralt!"
The bloodied smile widened. "Yennefer. Yen. My love, Yennefer…"
The sorceress thought that she would be sick.
"Yennefer? Yen!"
Sweat soaked obsidian hair stuck to her face as she sat bolt upright in the bed. She sucked in greedy lungfuls of air, feeling like she had run a mile.
"Geralt?"
"I'm here Yen. Relax."
That voice. That deep timbre. Yennefer felt her heart begin to slow down. Swallowing thickly, she turned to face the Witcher lying next to her.
There he was. Beautful amber eyes, narrow pupils like a cat. Deep scars decorating his face. White stubble framing his mouth. Bandages encasing his chest, covering the wounds she had painstakingly stitched mere hours ago. The sight of him, exactly as he should be, calmed Yennefer's frantic heart. She lay back down, not letting her eyes leave his.
"You okay?"
The sorceress nodded slowly, relaxing back into the pillows beneath her. A calloused hand reached up to gently stroke Yennefer's face, wiping away the tears that had somehow found their way there. She knew he wouldn't push her to tell him. She was glad.
Feeling stronger, she offered her Witcher a smile.
"Better?" he asked, a half smile on his face.
"Much."
"Good."
Yennefer was surprised when she felt Geralt pull her close and press a kiss to her forehead. The feeling of his soft lips, his prickly stubble, his warm breath… she relished it. When he pulled away, she could feel sleep beginning to return to her. Geralt offered her a small smile before closing his eyes.
A moment passed.
"Geralt?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm… I'm sorry."
Amber eyes re-opened, the vertical slits focusing on her.
"What for?"
"For…for what I said yesterday." She saw Geralt furrow his brows in confusion. "I was wrong. I wouldn't change this… whatever it is we have… I wouldn't change it. For anything."
A small smile graced the Witcher's lips, so different to the hideous, bloodied grin she had seen moments ago.
"Neither would I, Yen. Neither would I."
Comments & constructive criticism welcome!