"Shit, you stink!" Geralt swore as he faced off a particularly vicious looking harpy. He had been searching for a magic artifact, one powerful enough to aid in the cure of Saskia, the Dragonslayer. His search had led him into a lair of Celaeno harpies – dream snatchers. They steal the dreams of their victims and form them into crystals. Luckily for him, these crystals are full of magic energy. One was bound to be strong enough for the cure. Although Geralt was violating the privacy of the dreamers, desperate times called for desperate measures.
The witcher shifts his stance, gripping his silver sword, and awaits the monster's attack. The harpy charges him, but Geralt easily side-steps the charge and promptly decapitates the monster. His work is not done, for two harpies emerge to avenge their fallen sister. Geralt lunges forward and pierces one in the heart with his silver sword, but the other flies around and slashes him in the back with her talons.
"Damn! Shit!" Geralt curses.
Whirling around, the witcher faces down his adversary. He backs up a step in order to prepare for a riposte, but the ground behind him gives way. When Geralt jumps forward to avoid falling into the chasm below, the harpy uses this opportunity to advance. The witcher latches on to the monster, catching it off guard, and the two tumble down the slope together. The harpy's screeches echoed throughout the cave. Finally hitting the bottom, the witcher wastes no time unsheathing his dagger and slitting the harpy's throat.
He dusts himself off and sees a glowing crystal in front of him. It was tucked away in the rock, yet it lit up the chasm with a glow somewhere between the colors red and orange.
"Auburn. The color of Triss' hair," Geralt mumbled to himself. "I wonder... Hmm, only one way to find out."
He worked the crystal out of its slot and slipped it into his pocket. In truth, the witcher was quite excited. This could give him some clues as to the whereabouts of his missing sorceress. Triss had been captured by Letho, the real kingslayer, and had been forced to teleport to Vergen. The thought of his beloved being hurt and in danger enraged Geralt. He would do anything to save her, including allying with Iorveth – the leader of the local Scoia'tael. They made haste to Vergen and Geralt wasted no time hunting for clues to help him find his red-haired lover.
Geralt climbed back up the slope, with some difficulty. A few loose rocks almost caused him to fall right back down into the chasm; however, the witcher eventually made it back up top. Approaching the stone projector, a device the harpies use to view the dreams, he slides the auburn crystal into the slot. Soon, an image flickers to life.
~~O~~
An image of Geralt's face appears. His cat-like eyes are glowing warmly and he is wearing a soft smile.
As the dream comes into focus, more details begin to emerge through Triss' eyes. They are in an ornate tent, with a red canvas ceiling above and a plush bed below. Embroidered on the tent's walls are the Temerian Lilies. A single candle flickers on the nightstand to the left, giving the room a soft glow.
The witcher is hovering above, suspended by his arms on either side of her and his legs straddled against hers. He is totally nude, and the dreamer's eyes roam his scarred and toned body. She can see the witcher in all of his glory, as well as her own perfectly sculpted form beneath, as Triss was likewise nude. Her ample breasts are rising and falling with each breath, mere inches from her lover's own chest, with her hands caressing his back. While scanning his body, her gaze eventually lingered on a very specific part of Geralt's body.
A female voice is heard, obviously belonging to the dreamer: "I see you have unsheathed one of your swords, witcher!"
"Mmhmm," responds Geralt. "Most people think witchers only carry two swords, a steel for humans and a silver for monsters. But you, my love, know there is a third. One for you alone, Triss."
He cups one of her breasts and begins kissing her neck. She gasps and moans with pure pleasure.
"I want it!" she begs.
"I know, Triss. Your sorceress' flower is dripping with its sweet nectar! It is calling to me and I cannot resist its power."
"Then be silent and make love to me, Geralt! Fuck me until dusk turns to dawn!"
"Yes love," he says.
The dream's image goes blurry and shifts. The lovers disappear and a new image takes its place.
"King Foltest is dead! That godless butcher, the witcher, killed our king!"
Triss is now standing outside of La Valette Castle. Her eyes, which were focused on the fleeing dragon in the horizon, have now snapped to a gathering of soldiers returning from the battlefield. In front is a herald, who is announcing this grim news. She walks up in front of the herald and orders him to halt.
"Report soldier! What is the meaning of this?" Triss bellows.
"I don't report to you, harlot! Your lover killed our king, our men caught him red handed!"
"That's impossible. Geralt would never kill Foltest. He was sworn to protect him."
"Of course the kingslayer's whore would defend him! You would be joining him in the dungeons, if I had anything to say about it. Maybe you could have your heads chopped together, side-by-side? How fucking romantic would that be?" He then spits in her face.
"How dare you – "
"Enough, both of you!" The voice of Vernon Roche is heard. He is walking towards them. "Move out soldiers! I need to speak with the sorceress."
He waited a moment as the herald and his coterie of soldiers walked a good distance away.
"Merigold, your witcher is in serious hot water. I'm going down to have a chat with him tomorrow. Tell me honestly, do you vouch for him?"
"Of course! How is that even a question? Geralt has no motive, no reason to kill our king. Everything was going so well for us. Besides, he was committed to protecting him; Geralt is never one to abandon a contract."
"Yeah, we'll see. This whole situation makes no sense. I'll interrogate him and try to discover the truth. Regardless, he's been declared guilty by the courts and his execution is in two days," said Roche.
"No," declares Triss. "I'm not going to let them execute him, even if I have to bust him out myself! I'd sooner die than see him go to the block!"
"Get a hold of yourself woman! This isn't a fairytale. Listen," Roche leans in closer and whispers. "I happen to believe you. My instincts tell me Geralt is not the kingslayer. I have a plan to get him out. Go to the docks tomorrow at midnight; I'll have a detachment of the Blue Stripes waiting with a ship. In the meantime, don't do anything rash."
"Don't worry about me. I have to meet with the nobles tomorrow anyway. With the massive power vacuum, it'll be a mess. Someone has to keep order," says Triss.
Vernon nods. "I'll leave the political shit-storm to you."
Roche vanishes along with the castle in the background. The dream shifts and blurs for a moment, then refocuses on a new scene.
Triss is now standing in front of a council of nobles. All of the movers and shakers of Temeria are present. Each had a haggard and wary look, as they had been trading favors and influence all day. Each was pulling out all of the stops in order to claw their way to the top.
The tension in the room is palpable as they vote on resolutions.
"First thing is first," says a short, plump little man. He looks towards Triss with an evil little smirk. "I move to expel Triss Merigold from her position in the court. She has failed in her duties as advisor to our late king. Her lover, Geralt of Rivia, was sworn to protect Foltest and betrayed us all. He is a traitor and a regicide!"
Murmurs erupt from the council members. Many were nodding, whispering to their comrades, and pointing at Triss.
The short man continues: "Though I don't have proof, I suspect that the sorceress orchestrated the whole thing. Witchers are mindless beasts who answer to the one holding their chain!"
"That's not true and you know it!" exclaims Triss.
"Silence! You do not have permission to speak. I know all about you sorceresses – not a one can be trusted. Now, will any second the motion?"
A face in the crowd spoke up with enthusiasm. "I second! Get her out of here!"
His wicked smile returning, the plump man who proposed the motion called for a vote. "All in favor?"
"AYE!" roared the council.
"Any opposed?"
A few tentative hands go up.
"Very well! Motion passes," he then turns to Triss. "You have been stripped of your position and authority. You are a member of the royal court no longer. Your home in Vizima shall be returned to the State, as well as all of your land and property. All of the privileges and rights of nobility are barred from you. You have 24 hours to remove any personal effects. I recommend leaving Temeria for good. Maybe you can apply yourself in Novigrad? They're always looking for whores!"
The room erupts with laughter. It wasn't enough to oust her from her position, she had to be humiliated as well. A loud crack is heard as a portal appears in front of Triss and she storms through.
Once again, the dream shifts and grows blurry. A new picture reforms and the sound of running water is heard.
An image of Geralt resting his head on Triss' lap forms. They are in the elven baths underneath the roses of remembrance.
Triss gives a long, deep sigh. "Geralt. That. Was. Amazing."
"It's always amazing with you," he replies.
"As opposed to whom?" she teases.
Geralt starts to chuckle. "Anyone else. You're the only woman I need, Triss. I haven't even considered going whoring since we were together."
"Oh really? Then what happened the night you got that tattoo? Ves told me you had quite the wild ride."
"I don't even remember that night," he says with a slight frown. "But the madam said that I didn't have sex with the whore."
"True, you didn't. But you did ride on her back and ask her to carry you across the river!" Triss starts laughing despite herself. "Ves says you were so determined to make it work, but after a few failed attempts you gave up in frustration. I wish I could've seen it!"
"Glad you're not mad at least," says Geralt with a smile. "Thanks for removing that tattoo, by the way."
"My pleasure. What would you do without me?"
"I don't know," he says, suddenly turning serious. "All I know is that I can't lose you."
"Don't fret," she replies reassuringly. "You'll never lose me unless you wish it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
"Me too, Triss. I'm happy with you. I don't know what the future will bring, but I want to you to be by my side."
Triss gives a small sigh, then shifts a bit. "So, have you decided what to do about Yennefer?"
"No. My memories are slowly coming back, but I'm not even sure she's alive. If she is, I won't know what to do about her until I meet her."
"I'll support you no matter what you decide. I'm willing to drop everything to help you find her. I owe you that. I owe her that."
"Thanks Triss. That means a lot," he replies.
The two remain silent for a moment, basking in each other's presence. Through Triss' eyes, one can see her delicately stroking Geralt's hair as his head rests on her lap. Finally, Geralt looks up to meet her gaze, his cat-like eyes filled with longing.
"Ready for round two?" he askes.
"Is that even a question?" Triss replies with a sultry voice. "Mmm, besides. There's something I really wanted to try with you..."
The elven baths disappear, and a small wooden room forms in its place. In the center is a megascope.
The sound of a door bursting open is heard. Just as the dreamer turns around, she notices a huge man pulling his sword out of Cedric. The elf crumples to the ground in a pool of blood. The assassin quickly blasts Triss with an Aard, catching her totally off guard. Before she can recover, he slams her head against the wall and binds her hands behind her back.
"No butterflies for you, Merigold."
"Kingslayer," remarks Triss.
"Aren't you quick?" says Letho with obvious amusement. "Listen witch, I'm short on time. We need to be long gone before your lover-boy gets here. Teleport us to Vergen, now."
"That's madness! I don't have the coordinates!" exclaims Triss.
"Well then. You'll just have to make your best guess, because you're going first with me right behind you." He pulls out his sword and rests the blade on her neck. "I'm going to release your hands so you can cast the spell. No tricks, or you'll be dead quicker than you can say 'Foltest'."
Triss begins murmuring an incantation under her breath and a portal forms. Triss walks through with the kingslayer right behind.
Through Triss' eyes, one can see a gulley from a significant altitude. It appears as if the ground is rapidly moving towards them. In truth, the two are falling from the sky. Triss casts a spell that slows their descent. The two land with a thud, hurt but very much alive. She watches the kingslayer get up and dust himself off.
"Hmph. You missed, Merigold. But, better than materializing inside a rock," Letho remarks. "Send Geralt my regards."
She watches him limp away just as her vision gets blurry and dark.
The dream's image refocuses and a picture of a troll standing by a large cooking cauldron materializes.
"Ooh. Red-haired humie awake. Want stew? Is gooood."
"Uuugh, where am I?" Triss asks groggily.
"You fall from sky. Fat bald humie rude and limp-away went. Didn't check on pretty humie. Is ok: trollolo find! I take good care of pretty humie. You safe here."
"Thank you, I'm... grateful."
"No thank need. Troll happy to help good humies. Bad humies I eat. Not you. You smell make Troll peace-like. You good humie."
"So, you don't want to eat me because I smell?" asks Triss.
"Good smell! Not food-good, but good-good. Like nice and happy good." The troll explains.
He then patiently instructed the red-haired human on the philosophical distinctions between various olfactory stimuli, and how they were a perfectly legitimate judge of a sentient being's character (or edibility as the case may be). Eventually, Triss just nodded and concurred with his dissertation.
"Smart humie rare. Knew it was smart by smell. Missus just don't think-get." The troll shakes his head slowly.
"Missus? Is that your wife?"
"Yes," he says with a nod. "But Missus mad-now. She away-went since I keep red-haired humie. Troll want both, but Missus say Troll one only-get."
"You kept me over your wife?" Triss' voice conveys a hint of panic. "That's sweet, but I don't think it would work out."
"No, no, no! You not Missus! Red-haired humie pet-like. Not Missus-like! But Missus confused-in-face-get. Angry-get at Troll."
Triss breathes a sigh of relief. "Mister Troll, I really appreciate your hospitality, but I really have to get going."
"Leave-why? You good-smell. Make funny noises in sleep. Good pet-make!" explains the Troll.
"Funny noises?"
"Yes. Humie mouth make smack-noise on pillow. Call pillow 'Gerr-rault'. Pillow wet-get from humie tongue."
"Ooh, erm... well," Triss stammers embarrassingly. "Geralt is, uhm. I'm Geralt's Missus. I need to find him or he'll be sad."
"Gerr-rault bring here! Troll have pet-double!"
"I don't think that will work," says Triss. "I have to leave you, I'm sorry."
"No sorry! No leave Troll; Troll lose good-smell."
"I'll give you my bandanna. My scent should be on there and you won't lose my good-smell."
Triss hands the troll the scarf. After giving it two long sniffs, the Troll nods slowly.
"Troll hope humie find her Gerr-rault. Gerr-rault lucky to have pretty red-haired humie for his Missus."
"Thank you Troll, for everything."
The dream's image fades to black, and nothing takes its place.
~~O~~
Geralt waited a moment to ensure that the dream was complete. He removed the auburn crystal and returned it to his pocket. Unfortunately, it contained no clues as to her current whereabouts that the witcher didn't already know.
"Looks like I'll have to play along with Philippa after all," he said under his breath. "I got Triss into this mess, I'm going to do everything I can to get her out."
The witcher left the cave with a strengthened resolve to find his sorceress. She had suffered much, and Geralt wanted so desperately to hold her in his arms.