Disclaimer:

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the books by Andrzej Sapkowski and the game series by CD Projekt Red. I do not claim ownership to any of these characters and have written this fan fiction for entertainment, not financial gain.


Warnings:

Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt, The Witcher book series and Hearts of Stone


To Hope - John Keats:

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star

Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;

Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:

So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,

Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,

Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!


"Be sure to shut the door behind you, I'd rather not have any foul, uninvited guests swooping in on us." Proclaimed Yennefer as the trio retreated into the bedroom.

As Geralt turned around to pull the door shut he saw Philippa glare viciously in Yennefer's general direction and he was quick to pull the door shut. The Sorceress was already fuming with anger at the several unexpected delays prior to the meetings and it seemed that her colleague was bent on stoking the fire which was already catastrophically growing out of control. Philippa could rupture at any given moment and the ominous glance shot at Yennefer's retreating form informed him painfully clearly exactly where this emancipated rage would be directed. He sighed.

"I think Philippa is about to reach breaking point." Said the Witcher with as much nonchalance as he could muster, but both women raised an eyebrow at him making it evident that his false pretence of calm had not been accepted.

"Geralt, we're not having this discussion again. Neither the Lodge or Philippa would ever dare to give substance to the thought of trying something against me and even if they did I can fend for myself, so please, bury your ill-founded fears because your overprotectiveness is teetering rather dangerously on the line between suffocating and charming. I'd prefer you reverted to the latter." Said Yennefer imperatively giving him a rather irritated side-long glance as Ciri walked past her and perched on the edge of the bed, internally rolling her eyes at the irony of the situation, given the Sorceress' own Mother Hen nature.

He didn't make any further comments as he walked further into their temporary accommodation, reaching down to move one of the chairs over to the bed. Before his fingers clasped around the wooden backrest he felt a soft hand against his arm.

"Geralt."

He turned around to face her without a moment's thought, compelled but the abrupt, yet pleasing, change in tone as she softly whispered his name into the silence as though the word was weaved with a magic he could neither place, nor defy. It was frightening to think about the effect that one word had on him when it fell so tenderly from her lips. So, he never once thought on it. The thought of losing that feeling was an idea to horrible to even imagine. Nobody else had ever, no…could ever, make him feel this way.

"While your constant fussing and concern is undeniably tedious, I must admit that I find it…endearing. Thank you, Geralt, for looking after me."

The way her lips curled up into a subtle yet overwhelmingly sincere smile, they way her melodic voice captured him like no siren's song could ever do, the way her lips lovingly brushed against his own as she kissed him and the way her scent filled every inch of his senses, nothing could ever compare to this, to her. He never knew how he had managed to survive without her.

"Always." He replied with intimate quietness using every last ounce of strength to refrain from reaching out for her as though fearful she would, like a dream, slip away. There was a small cough.

"So, what's this news then?" Asked Ciri, completely unabashed by the display of affection, a small smile on her face.

"Hmmm, I think it would be easier to show you." Said Yennefer, sitting down on the bed beside her as Geralt drew a chair up, grinning at Ciri who watched in confusion as the Sorceress held out her left hand and muttered a spell.

The young-ashen haired woman let out an audible gasp as the concealment charm covering the ring lifted, revealing the memorizing diamond encased in a small silver star which sat atop the silver ring, two smaller but not less spectacular diamonds embedded in the band on either side and next to them a small violet amethyst and a tiny black pearl.

"About time!" Ciri squealed in delight as she flung her arms around both of them before looking at the engagement ring more closely, eyes wide with awe. "I was beginning to think I might need to intervene, I know that Witchers and Sorceresses can live a long time but that's no excuse for you two to take all the time in the world reaching the inevitable."

"It seems that the court is rubbing off on our little Witcher girl a little too much, Geralt, she's quickly becoming even more pompous than Philippa." Said Yennefer facetiously as Ciri looked smugly between the recently engaged couple.

"Alright Miss-Know-it-All," said Geralt as they laughed at her exaggerated wounded expression, "it might have taken us too long to get here, but that doesn't matter now, because at least we got there eventually."

"Well, the ring truly is beautiful so I suppose I can forgive you for the delay. I'm glad you two finally realized you're meant for each other, you deserve some peace and happiness. Now, I want to know how it happened and want every detail about the wedding so far."

As Geralt rose to his feet, the trio heading towards the door and eventually the meeting, the sounds of Yennefer and Ciri talking merrily about the engagement and the ceremony drifted around him. He smiled to himself. Admittedly, he regretted waiting as long as he had, but holding your heart out in your hands like that is one of life's most formidable and terrifying challenges. Especially when to world dictates you have no heart to share. In truth, without her, he doubted he'd have ever found it. When he was with her, he could never feel like the monster he was created to be. But rather, something more. And he preferred it. Immensely.

From the second his question had been unleashed into the night air, his heart had stopped as he held it out to his beloved for her to either nurture, or shatter. Once she had flung her arms around him, kissing him before an answer tumbled from her lips frantically, his heart raced again strengthened by the gentle hand which had accepted it, offering her's in its place as they professed their eternal love to the stars, like some shitty two crown romance.

Sure, it had taken them a long time to get there, but he knew that he was exactly where he wanted to be, or more precisely, with exactly who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, with every challenge great and small, with every nightmare, every battle, every burden, and with every bright day, with every laugh and smile and with every moment of his living memory. Yennefer had promised him that night that she loved who he was, the man he was. Together that night they had promised to love each other, forever. He, that night, had promised never to leave her side, to never leave her alone…

"But you have…you failed her."

It felt as though the unconscionable voice of death had whispered into his ear as he reached his hand out for the doorknob. The sound was unnervingly familiar. He whirled around, alert eyes scanning the room soon falling upon a sight which made him recoil from phantom pains stabbing at his chest.

He was no longer in their accommodation, but in the large T-shaped hall situated in the palace on Thanedd Island. A thick crowd of people, all elaborately dressed in garish colours and precious gems which would have made any peacock green with envy, stood like an obstacle before him, gawking and staring at the spectacle before them. At the thing which urged him closer.

Hastily he pushed his way through the crowd and, eyes searching forwards, he was blissfully ignorant to the disgusted faces the mages were giving him as battled his way forward for what seemed like hours on end until at last he found what was calling him.

A small female figure dressed in black and white was lying on the floor, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling as Ciri wept over her dead body. On the floor beside her a man leant over her body, slowly he turned his face towards him. Geralt gasped.

"I failed her…"

His face was contorted with malice as he smiled devilishly at his execrable crime, blood dripping from the heart held tightly in his right hand as crimson liquid flooded from the hole in Yennefer's chest, weaving its way across the floor towards Geralt. His body petrified by the sight of his own reflection staring back at him.

"I KILLED HER!"

The scent of decaying lilac and gooseberries enveloped his senses as the blood snaked its way over his body, staining his hands dark red as the lifeblood of his beloved dripped from his body, its touch burning his skin like molten iron while the image of his sin emerged from the shadows of his subconscious and hung before his mind like a painting.

"You killed Mother!" Eyes red and puffy from the tears pooling at her feet Ciri screamed shrilly in his face. Her look of pure and utter content piercing through him like a dagger, a thousand times more painful than the hands pushing him backwards. "You took her from me!"

Hands clamped around his arms and pushed against him as the crowd swarmed around him, dragging him further away from Yennefer as he left a trail of blood in his wake.

"You're a monster." Triss' sharp nails dug into his flesh as she glared nastily at him, her usually happy face filled with anger.

"A savage." Eskel and Lambert threw him to the floor, spitting in his face.

"You never deserved her love." Tendrils of magic drew him to his feet as Philippa flung him once more into the jostling crowd.

"You're a bloody Monster." Dandelion and Zoltan turned their backs on him with a look of loathing as he was pushed out from the crowd, his back slamming into soft flesh before a soft hand turned him around.

"You killed me…" Yennefer's lifeless eyes were wide with shock as she clutched at the hole in her chest, staring down at the heart lying silent in his stained hands. "I thought you loved me…"

"No!" Geralt lunged for her as she went limp, but it wasn't his hands she fell into.

"I'll take good care of her, Geralt. At least with me, she won't ever be alone…"

Holding Yennefer's body in his arms O'Dimm gradually began to step away towards the open door, smiling happily at Geralt and laughing at his fruitless efforts to reach her as he ran forwards, the door moving further and further away. He was losing her.

"Say your goodbyes." The door slammed shut.

He flung himself at the handle, wrenching it open. But there was nothing there. Only darkness. The door had been shut. The boundary placed. Yennefer was lost. Forever.

He stepped out into the nothingness, hoping to reach her through death, but something pulled him back through the door which slammed shut as he skidded along the stone-cold floor, landing in a heap. He didn't have the strength, or the will, to get back up. He didn't want to go on. Without her, he didn't know how to. He was empty.

"Look how easily he has forsaken you, such little effort to save you." The hatred which coursed through his veins at the sound pulled him from his pitiful sorrow as he bared his teeth and balled his fists.

It took mere seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light which filled the small, dank dungeon as he sprang to his feet and at the ready, but as he did so heavy chains appeared out of the darkness, wrapping themselves around his body and pulling him backwards, his back smashing into the damp stone wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man dressed in a yellow tunic move from the shadows as Gaunter O'Dimm sauntered into the centre of the cell.

"No, Yen!"

Geralt hopelessly struggled against his bonds, his voice failing to reach the Sorceress hung up in the middle of the cell like a slab of meat, her arms held up over here head by black chains hanging from the ceiling while her feet were shackled together and chained to the floor. Yennefer's gaze was fixed on the man purposefully striding into her line of view as she writhed around desperately.

"No matter, my dear little soul, I will help you forget his worthless love by removing any trace of it which still lingers on your skin." Said O'Dimm kindly, as he seized her by the hair forcing her gaze onto the knife he had pulled from one of his satchels. Geralt recognised it as the type of knife hunters use to skin their prey. Slowly he bought it closer to her exposed skin. She screamed.


The radiant midday sun shed its rays over the halcyon estate as a young woman with ashen-hair and a scar on her cheek dressed in an elegant emerald dress materialized in the courtyard of Corvo Bianco, yet her abrupt appearance did little to disturb the calm atmosphere as the workers cast only momentary glances at the flash of blue before retreating once more to their duties. They knew the day, the occasion. None could forget it.

As Ciri looked up at the main house she sighed, she hoped for better this year, even if it was only a little progress, but the curtains upstairs were still closed tight and he was nowhere in sight. Unconsciously she raised a hand to her necklace, a graceful silver swallow hung on the delicate chain, a green garnet clutched in its claws. A present from her Mother which she hadn't taken off since the last time she saw her, several years ago. She closed her eyes and drew strength from the memento. She stepped over the threshold.


A small sliver of light which leaked through a gap in the curtains illuminated the space enough for Ciri to view the sorry sight before her. The room was clean, the mirrors washed, the dressers dusted, the floor swept and the clothes piled neatly away in the wardrobe, but the bedroom stood in stark contrast to the rooms only other occupancy.

He sat on the floor with his back resting against the side of the bed, his shoulders were slumped, his posture deflated as though his body's strength had withered away. The bed sheets were knotted and tangled, and damp with cold sweat, the physical remnants of another haunted nightmare. Geralt's eyes were dull and weary, deprived of more than just sleep. Lifeless eyes stared at the silver wedding band clasped between his fingers, the chain still around his neck as he read the inscription on the inside. Forever Your Yen.

As Ciri approached he turned his focus from the painfully mesmerizing object in his hands and offered her a meek smile in greeting and in an unspoken understanding she sat down beside him, snuggling up to him as he wrapped an arm around her taking one of her small hands on his own. It made their sorrow easier to bear.

After several moments the pair got up, Ciri opening the blinds as Geralt changed into a clean white shirt and pair of trousers. They headed outside hand in hand.


On the edge of a small hill that overlooked the estate there grew an enchanted tree which drew the eyes of all passers-by with its captivating beauty. Its boughs were filled with lavish green leaves and flowers of various shape and design, all of which were a deep, warm violet. Their scent, that of lilac and gooseberries, cocooned the well-kept grave which lay on the hill beneath the shade of the tree they'd made for her. It flourished in her ashes.

Slowly they made their annual pilgrimage to her resting place, arms laden with black, white and violet flowers which they set in a vase beside her head, eyes tracing its inscription. Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg. A loving Mother and Soulmate who brought so much joy to those she loved, and we will carry her in our hearts forever, each moment cherishing the gift she gave us. We love you, Yen, Mother.

After placing the flowers beside her they sat together on the small bench next to the grave, respecting the mournful silence as they drifted away into this moment of pure nostalgia. They reminisced about her charming yet aggravating stubbornness, her deep violet eyes and sincere smile, her constant assurance that she was okay, her mother-henning, her mocking but compassionate voice.

But their memories were bittersweet. It was hard to remember the woman she was without their minds wandering towards thoughts of how she was now. Of how her soul suffered. Of the pain that eternally afflicted her, because of them. Especially because of the nightmares…

The two years since her death had done next to nothing to lessen the draining sense of guilt which had breached Geralt's heart, feeding off his joy in life like a parasite. The nightmares only strengthened the disease which wracked his mind. The burning sensation of hunger which ate at her insides. The way her bones cracked back to their natural form. Chains wrapped around her fair skin which burned her flesh to the bone. Thousands of cuts marring her body which oozed bloody agonizingly slowly as she was drained to the last drop. The hunter's knife. The screams. So, much, screaming.

But though these images had the appearance of nightmarish apparitions, the folly of his sickened mind in its heavy grief and guilt, in truth these sights were worse than the deluded fears of his mind. These were not nightmares, but flashes and fragments of Yennefer's torture with which O'Dimm still taunted him. Of this, he was certain, because the pain he was forced to witness was beyond imagination.

The others knew of his nightmares and many had tried to help, but no number of spells or potions could keep these windows at bay. Nenneke had tried to persuade him to talk about what he saw, but he couldn't bring himself to share the details of her torment to anyone. The burden was too great, as was the cost.

Some part of him didn't want to talk anyhow, because he didn't want the nightmares to stop. As ruinous as they were they also remained the only connection he had left to Yennefer, and because the images helped to maintain the guilt which had so consumed him. He feared that without the feeling, he would become lost. It was self-destructive. And it was forcing a wedge between them.

"Did you see her again last night?" Asked Ciri quietly after a lengthy silence.

Geralt sighed deeply, he knew where this conversation was going. Sooner or later the question always came up but the path never changed nor did the end, both were too stubborn to change course. There was always a clash.

"Yes." He answered hoping against hope that for once his blunt answer might squash the questions bubbling in her mind, but he'd long ago stopped believing in miracles.

"What happened, Geralt? Please, tell me." He sighed again. It never got any easier.

"I saw her with O'Dimm, chained in a cell. She screamed." Out of the corner of his eye, the Witcher could see her watching him closely, waiting for him to elaborate as she examined his features.

"How was she? What did he do? Geralt, I want to know." Her voice was louder this time, her tone more urgent, desperate. She hoped against hope that this time would be different. She still longed for a much-needed miracle.

"Ciri, it was just a nightmare and-"

"LIAR!" Her accusation sliced through the silence as her calm tone of voice shattered in an instance. "Stop treating me like a child, Geralt, I know these aren't ordinary nightmares so tell me! I have the right to know what's happening to my Mother!"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He loathed himself for the pain he inflicted on her and kept his eyes fixed on the deep violet flower in his hands, carefully twirling it between his fingers as he braced himself for another onslaught.

"You wish to know what's happening to Lady Yennefer? We can grant you that wish, to understand what she experiences, that which is beyond your own mortal comprehension."

Time seemed to slow around them. The gentle rustling of the leaves ceased as the winds vanished, the birds halted mid-flight their song lost to the still clouds hanging above them. Two figures, a man and a woman, were perched in the tree staring down at them with an undeniable look of superiority. With Ciri and Geralt's eyes on her, the woman spoke again with a slightly mocking voice.

"But it matters not that you understand the extent of how she suffers, because, after all, what matters most, is that Yennefer isn't dead…"


James Anderson, The Never-Open Desert Diner: Chapter 2, The Deal

"In all those stories about people who sold their souls to the devil, I never quite understood why the devil was the bad guy, or why it was okay to screw him out of his soul. They got what they wanted: fame, money, love, whatever—though usually it turned out not to be what they really wanted or expected. Was that the devil's fault? I never thought so. Like John Wayne said, "Life's tough. It's even tougher when you're stupid."


Notes

We're finally here, THE SEQUEL! Hope the wait will be worth it 😊 All I can say is that if you think this is bad, shits going to get a lot worse… I'll try and throw in fluff when and where I can.

If you haven't seen my post on Tumblr then here's a little info for you about this story: chapters fortnightly, smaller chapters and chapters varying more in length. With university and the complexity of the story I can't commit to the same structure as PoLaD, sorry guys but I'd rather take my time than rush things.

As always feel free to PM me and follow me on Tumblr (Eileniessa and Eileniessa's creative blog) until next time 3