A/n I apologize for the long wait. But here is the chapter. This would not even be possible without the help of StellaPurple. I commissioned this chapter from her.

This fanfiction is based off of the books written by Andrzej Sapkowski and the Game made by CD Project Red. I do not claim ownership of any of this. This is just for fun

Chapter 1

Triss Merigold finds herself waking up in a narrow cell, wrists and ankles shackled up with chains that connect to one another, rendering her movement almost to a close nothing. As if she needs another reminder of how she ends up in this God forsaken place.

She had been trying to get in contact with Philippa when she got discovered by the Lady Owl's apprentice instead. The redhead ends up getting captured by Cynthia, who was acting as a Nilfgaardian spy. Cynthia even managed to compressed her using an artifact, before smuggling her right out of the mist of wraiths. That day had been nothing but a series of bad luck; that's the only reason why the Nilfgaardians managed to get their hands on her. And now, she's sitting in this cramped little cell, waiting for someone to deliver her sentence.

She has no idea how she can walk out of this predicament. Does Geralt even know what happened to her? Will he arrive in time to rescue her? Triss dreads the possibilities of what sentence the Nilfgaardians will carry to her while she lost her access to magic.

She can feel the strain of the added weight takes effect on her. It's not just because she is bond in four different places, but because of the effect that the Dimeritium metal has on her. It is suppressing her magic, preventing her from using the power that is crawling inside her. She can just feel her magic itching from underneath her skin, begging to be released. If only she knows a way to escape from this peril…. Her thoughts feel dizzy when too much magic is accumulating inside her, but can't really find a way to get out.

But before she can get her bearings, the door opens and in walks an old man in thick, dark robes. Triss recognizes the man as Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, the Nilfgaardian ambassador.

"What do you want?" Triss asks unpleasantly through gritted teeth, feeling very annoyed and angry at his presence. She can feel the front of her head begins to pound from the inside now, from a mix of anger and stress.

"You're very lucky, girl. I would have been the one to interrogate you, if it weren't for the fact that the imperial court mage has requested you to be transported to the capital," the ambassador informs her solemnly.

Triss takes her time to absorb this piece of information, and suddenly she doesn't know which is worse; this place, or the next one she's heading to.

"The imperial mage?" is all the enquiry she can come up with.

Shilard licks his tongue in annoyance, but answers the redhead's question anyway. "Yes, the imperial court mage, Yennefer of Vengerberg. You will be transported there by this noon."

He steps out the dungeon without a second glance, leaving a very distraught looking Triss behind.

Her best friend is alive?

Geralt of Rivia enters the town of Loc Muinne with the company of Iorveth, the Scoia'tael Commander.

People have not stopped giving them eerie looks. They suppose it is a rare sight to be seen; a witcher and an elf, traveling together. The two of them have forged an agreement to rescue Saskia from the control of Philippa Eilhart, a polymorphy sorceress and Redania's royal advisor.

As if their goal is not complicated enough, as their opponent has proved to be a difficult enemy to defeat. They also don't want to draw too much attention to themselves, so the two men decide to split ways. This way, they can also cover more grounds during their search.

Aside from looking for Saskia, a dragon transforming woman who also happens to be a dragonslayer, they are also looking to find Triss' location. The last trace they had on the later also happened to be at Nilfgaardian, though they don't know where exactly. They are hoping to catch on some words about her, while trying to pinpoint Saskia's location.

Saskia is a fierce warrior. Even in human form, she can still fight and pose a threat to any enemy. But Philippa is also a formidable sorceress. In the hands of Philippa, Saskia can prove to be a more dangerous weapon, for both friends and foes. That's the more reason why they need to free Saskia from Philippa's hands, no matter how hard the idea sounds to be, before something irrevocably unrepaired is damaged.

Geralt tightens his hold on the crossbow strapped to his waist before he ventures into the market area, the weight of his armor making the sounds of his steps seem heavier than the people walking around him. The white haired man tries to listen for the rumor mill as he walks pass shops. It is then that he comes across a familiar face in a sea of strangers, who happens to turn facing his direction a moment later.

She hasn't seen him yet, but he sees her. Geralt quitely stalks toward the female mage as she walks toward his direction, not knowing the danger she is in. Cynthia is Philippa's former apprentice and a Nilfgaardian spy. Geralt also knows that the sorceress took part in Triss' kidnapping. She's not getting away.

In steady steps, Geralt closes in on her, navigating through the crowd much faster than her thanks to having gotten used to people parting to make way for his towering height. Even in silence, people know how to avoid him.

Cynthia's blue eyes widen in recognition before she quickly make an attempt to bolt out. But by now it's already too late, because Geralt already anticipates her movement, so he puts a steel-like grip on her shoulder, preventing her from escaping. She feels something sharp poking against her side, though she doesn't need to look down to see his blade pressing against her stomach.

"What do you want?" she asks in a poker face.

"We both know what I want, so why don't we cut the bullshit. Tell me where Triss is," he demands.

"Well, I certainly don't want to be gutted in the middle of the street, but I'm pretty sure you know we usually take our prisoners. Too bad, she had to be relocated." Cynthia winces when Geralt presses the end of the blade closer toward her side, drawing the smallest amount of blood.

"Stop talking in circles. I want clear answers," he hisses, glaring down at her.

Maybe it's because of the hard look in his eyes, or maybe it's because she just doesn't want to get cut open, but Cynthia quickly spills the beans. "She was in the Nilfgaardian camp," she finally blurs out, "but someone in the capital has requested a transfer. She would have been relocated by the end of the day."

Geralt looks up at the sky. It is still a little bit past noon, with the sun still shining bright at high. There's still time to stop the transport, if they are quick enough.

"You want to save your lover, right? So why don't we strike a deal?" Cynthia make a move to inch away from the pointy blade, but Geralt only tightens his hold on her shoulder, making her winch a little even when she tries not to show it.

"What kind of deal?" he grunts impatiently, not making an attempt to correct her assumption.

"I can help you get into the camp without alerting the guards. But in return, you must help me break into a vault."

"A vault?"

"A dead wizard's vault."

"Sounds all the same to me."

"Maybe that's because you never got into one before."

"We'll just have to go and see then, shall we?"

"Does that mean we have a deal?" the sorceress enquiries.

"Yes," he grumbles back, before making her show the way.

"Ah-uh. Not so fast." She grabs his hand that's near her midsection in return, pressing power behind her grip. "You do my bidding, then I'll do yours. That's how it works."

Geralt makes no move to brush her off. He won't put it pass her to pull something like this on him. He knows that she's gonna draw a hard bargain in return, but as long as he has something that she wants, he knows that she will not try to run away. So in the end, he nods his head in a silent agreement.

All kinds of traps are already waiting for them when Geralt and Cynthia try to break into the vault.

Geralt does most of the work to counter each attack that comes their way, while Cynthia works to cover their backs from behind. With a witcher and a sorceress working together, it doesn't take long before they get to what they come here for.

Cynthia manages to retrieve whatever it is she wants from the dead guy's vault while Geralt waits by the door. But just when Cynthia tries to step out of the room, the bulky witcher steps in front of her, blocking the way. The sorceress sweeps up her gaze at the towering male before her.

"You got your stuff, now tell me where they keep Triss at," Geralt demands.

Cynthia still has the guts to smirk at him as she responds, "Patiences, Big Boy." Then he sees her hand reaching for something under her robes, and he reaches for one of his sword almost immediately.

"Relax, it's just a map," she informs him quickly, pulling out a scroll of parchment for him to see. His muscles remain tense even as he watches her unroll the parchment and show him a floor plan of the camp's floor plan, pointing the best route for him to avoid patrolling guards.

Geralt remains stoic even once she finishes explaining to him, so she decides to speak again. "Trust me, as long as you follow my instruction, you should be able to get your woman out."

"Don't think for a second that I trust someone like you," he says cynically.

Cynthia scroffs. "Then what's the point of all of this?"

Something changes in his demeanor the moment she finishes speaking. His eyes harden and he takes a step forward. In a blink of a moment, Cynthia forgets about herself and what she can do, and her attention instead focus on the mass of his presence. She stares nervously as he strides closer toward her until they are almost chest to chest that she can almost touch him, inhaling deep of his male scent. He makes a move slowly to reach toward her body. Goosebumps break through her skin as she watches the muscles of his arms flex, the urge to be touched by him rains down hard and fast on her. Cynthia sucks in her breath, preparing for the contact, when he suddenly steps back before anything happens.

"I need a guarantee. That's why I'm keep this," Geralt suddenly waves a pouch in his hand, "until I know for sure you're telling the truth. If I suspect that you're lying or if I get captured, you can kiss this thing goodbye."

It takes Cynthia a few seconds to realize that he has stolen the dead wizard's pouch from her. "You bastard—! We had a deal. Give that back!" she exclaims furiously. He had tricked her! And to think that she was going to— No. Cynthia stops her train of thoughts.

"Not until I succeeded. You can get this back once I got out," he says, before turning away, about to leave her alone in the vault when she quickly calls her out.

"Wait!" she exclaims when another idea suddenly strikes her. "I have something else you might want."

He turns to her and sends her an impatient look, urging her to continue.

"I can tell you everything that Nilfgaard has on you. Won't you like that?"

Geralt quirks an eyebrow at her. The man has been searching for information about himself for a while now. He has quite a long history of past that he can't recall, and has been looking for it this whole time. He has been trying to remember things about himself, but so far all he has ever get is just blurry glimpses that barely makes sense in his mind. If he'll ever get a chance to learn even a sliver of truth about his past, it's definitely from Nilfgaard's archive.

"You would tell me such a precious commodity? And what would you ask for it in return?" he skeptical asks her.

For this, Cynthia leans a bit closer, a victorious smile on her lips. "Nothing much. Just a kiss."

"How would I know you'll be telling the truth."

"You have my pouch. I won't risk it."

Geralt goes silent again, but this time he seems to be contemplating his options. A kiss for all the questions that has been haunting his mind. Sounds like a small price to pay. Sounds like too good of a deal. Though there doesn't seem to any harm in giving this a shot. If Cynthia tells him a lie, then he'll simply just crush the pouch in his hand. Burn it, or don't return it at all.

Cynthia taps at her feet. Waiting for Geralt to make up his mind is going to take a while. It doesn't help that he keeps sending this suspicious looks her way. It makes her feel uneasy, and Cynthia is not one to feel nervous so easily. The witcher is a formidable opponent and an even more formidable enemy. One should think before they try to cross him, but Cynthia won't even risk herself unless she has a good purpose.

Geralt is aware of this, of course. It won't be so farfetched to think that the sorceress might have a hidden agenda. Still, this chance is too good to pass up. If only what she's gonna say hold a sliver of truth….

"Still contemplating? If you're not interested to hear me out, then fine, you can just—" Before Cynthia can finish her sentence, Geralt hands his hand to the back of her hood and yanks her closer. Their eyes lock for a split second before he crushes her lips with his, sucking the very breath right out of her.

Cynthia stiffens only for a moment, before her body comes to life and she wraps herself against him, welcoming his massive structure even closer until they are pressed chest to chest. The sorceress parts her mouth open to run her wicked tongue across his bottom lips, earning a spine-shivering groan from the male. Then she devours his mouth greedily, swallowing the rumbling sounds he makes when her nails begin to rack at his skin.

Geralt pulls back his lips until he finds himself gritting his teeth against her lips. Something dark and dangerous threaten to come to the surface, but before he can do anything damaging, he quickly yanks Cynthia's head back from him.

They both end up panting hard from the intensity of the kiss. There's nothing chaste about what they had just done, but the woman is smiling smugly at him, looking as if she has just won a battle he didn't know they had. His hand automatically fist for the pouch, which is still securely wrapped in his clenched fist. Geralt tugs it in his pocket, glaring hard at the woman in front of him.

"Such a delectable taste. If only you'd be more generous," Cynthia licks her lips showingly.

"You got what you want. Now tell me what I want to know," Geralt replies with the same cold tone, regarding what they'd done like it's nothing.

"Fine then, I'll tell you. There are a number of rumors have been circulating around you. I'm sure you've already suspected that some of them might have a grain of truth, though there's nothing else much more important than this one bit."

"Quit stalling and spit it out," he growls.

Cynthia folds her arms under her chest in a huff, but continuous. "The one that you know, the redhead, is not your real lover. Your real lover is someone else, and some might think that you've already abandoned her."

"Lies!" he snarls in reflex. How dare this sorceress insult his Triss. He trusts the redhead with his life. There's no way she can betray him like this as Cynthia suggests.

She must be lying, Geralt tells himself. She can be manipulating him. But the more he convinces himself, the more he doubts. He must admit, there are times when he doubts what's going on between him and Triss. Some things just don't add up, yet he subconsciously ignores it for fear of ruining the only version of reality that he knows of.

"You can't deny it; even you yourself is already doubting the things she says," he hears Cynthia speaks up again. "I can't exactly blame Triss either. Poor woman. She must be so hopelessly in love with you that she's willing go through such degree of length."

Geralt's first instinct tells him to shut her up, but the baser, more curious nature of him can't help but to ask, "Who?" He's not saying that he's trusting what the female says completely, but it won't hurt to ask.

In a flash, the corners of Cynthia's lips quirk up victoriously. "Her name is Yennefer," she supplies, "Yennefer of Vengerberg, and she is one of the imperial mages."

The moment he hears the name, something acutely alarming hits the center of his nerves. Pain throbs under his skull, multiplying by tenfolds in a nanosecond like an impending curse. Then, almost abruptly, a thousand different scenes begin playing out in his mind, hitting him one after another nonstop.

The memories come all at once. It feels as if there's a tightly guarded vault that has been secretly guarded at the very center of his mind. The moment he hears her name, it feels as if someone has just used an invincible key to unlock that vault.

Scenes after scenes play out in his mind all at once, hitting him so hard it feels like he's strapped a thunderstorm inside his own head. Truth after cold truth comes crashing down on him, forcing him to stare down at his actual reality—and it's not looking so good.

The truth is, Triss has indeed been lying to him. The one woman he taught he could trust with his very life; the only woman he taught he only has his heart for…. She is not who he thinks she is. Yes, he still cares for him. And yes, she also cares for him, but maybe a little bit too much. She loves him so much that she's willing to lie to him about his real past. Triss…. It pains him just to think of her now. He can't believe that she was willing to erase someone so important from his past, just to paint a better light of herself in his eyes.

But no, Triss doesn't really erase Yen from his mind; she just deliberately forgot to mention about the other love of his life. And for this, he does not think he can ever forgive the woman.

He remembers now. Not just about Yen, but also about Ciri, their adoptive daughter.

He recalls when he and Yennefer first met, how they came together over and over again, fighting side by side for years to come. Aye, he was a hard bastard to please, but once she got him, he was hooked for life.

He recalls raising and training the young Ciri along with Yen, taking care of the child until she grew up into a fine young woman, who eventually learn to take over the throne once she realizes the truth of her parentage.

So much time has been lost since then. Where are they now? What had happened to his lover and child? He knows his reason for not looking out to find them, but why haven't they reach out to find him this whole time? He hadn't come across them—not after he lost his memories.

He can't believe that he had spent years of his time with Triss, thinking that they meant more to each other than they actually do. At least that's how it is for him. He knows that Triss has feelings for him. He does too, but he has feelings for Yen, too. Geralt deeply cares about both women, and he just can't seem to choose any one of them. Not just because of the fact that he is equally in love with both of them, but also because he doesn't want be the one who draws a wedge to the friendship between both ladies, if he settles for one of them. It hurt all of them whenever they are together. That was why Geralt decided to do the thing he thought right and left them the last time. He would never have thought that Triss would take advantage of his situation when he couldn't remember anything about this past. He is feeling so betrayed right now. Not only has Triss violated his trust on her, but she has also hurt Yen along the way.

Oh, God, Yennefer. Where is she now? What happened to her and Ciri while he was gone? He needs to get some answers.

Geralt went through this journey because he needed to find someone. Now it turns out that he'll need to search even more people. So many questions, so little answers.

He is temporarily disoriented whilst his past flood back into this mind. That doesn't mean he is forgetting about what Cynthia really owes him. The sneaky sorceress is about to make a quick grab at the scroll in his hand, before Geralt moves even quicker to dodge her.

"We have a deal. Forget about it, and I'll let this thing burn," he grunts warningly, hovering the rolled parchment over a nearby torch.

"Alright, alright," Cynthia lifts both hands in surrender hastily, afraid that he'd go through with his threat. "Just do what you have to do fast. I need to use that scroll soon. I'll be waiting for you by the exit." That's all she has to say before she disappears from sight, leaving Geralt to leave the vault alone.

Geralt regroups back with Iorveth at the location they've agreed upon before, near the center of the market area. The two share their finding. While Geralt had met Cynthia on his way through the busy street, Iorveth was lucky (or unlucky, depending of the perspective) enough to discover the location of the said sorceress' mentor, Philippa. As it is revealed, Phillipa was captured by the Redina forced and is now held in prison (most likely by the samer prison Triss is trapped in).

Iorveth also managed to find out about the prison's secret passageway while he was navigating through the market and got in contact with an informant. Upon coloration, they are able to proof the truth about the passageway after comparing it to the leads Cynthia had left for Geralt. Since they have enough information to go on, the two decide to make a move, as soon as they replenish themselves.

The two grab some quick meal before heading straight to the prison's secret entrance. There's no time like today, and Triss is going to be relocated if they don't hurry soon. Geralt only tells Iorveth what needs to be told, purposefully excluding the fact that his memory has returned. Iorveth doesn't need to know what turtoil goes inside his mind. They just need to work together to achieve what they come there to do. Iorveth is there for Saskia. If they manage to get to Philippa and make her remove the mind control, then they'd consider that mission accomplished.

As to be expected, Nilfgaardian's prison is highly secured, even for a camp. New recruits are sent here to be trained, and many are circulated to patrol around the perimeter as part of their training. Luckily, it is not so hard to follow through the passageway they find, the door to the entrance hidden amongst the back wall of their main building, which can be access through a maze of thick forest surrounding the place. Once they gain entrance to the secret passageway, it is not so hard to remain quiet and follow the rest of the pathway, passing a series of hallway and rooms until they manage to get to the lower level, where criminals are held in cells and prisoners are being tortured.

They can only hope that Triss is not one who falls at the later category. They manage to pass through a torture chamber, right in the middle of an interrogation. The only reason they can hear the screaming of a female so clearly from the other side of the wall is because of the narrow airway provided from the brick gaps at the top corner where the wall and the ceiling meet. They are just about to skip through the unpleasant situation, when they hear a familiar name being mentioned.

"...tell me what I need to know, Philippa, and I might just let you live," says a haunty male voice, which as they listen in, appears to belong to Radovid V, the King of Redina.

What is going on? Aren't Philippa supposed to serve the realm of Redina? How come she ends up being tortured instead? Either way, they still need the sorceress alive in order to help them remove her control over Saskia.

They don't know what's really going on with her and the king. Philippa is their enemy, but that doesn't mean they can leave her go on this like, even if they don't want to.

Geralt and Iorveth slip through one of the nearest opening of the secret passageway, making sure to stay hidden in the shadows as to not alert the passing guards as they make their way into the torture chamber. Outside, the door is stationed with two guards guarding it from each side. Nodding to each other, the two make a silent arrangement to take out one guard each. Iorveth goes first, disappearing and appearing right behind one of the guards before hitting the guard at the back of his head. The other remaining guard is about to shout and alert the others, but Geralt is there first, slamming his fist into the man's face until he is knocked unconscious.

With the two guards slamming down to the floor, there's no stopping them from entering the chamber. Iorveth tests out the door knob, and turns out it's not locked. Lucky them. The elf makes sure to open the door slowly without making a sound, as to not alert the people inside. Geralt has to commend the other guy's effort, but the door looks much too heavy to not grate against the stone floor.

Up close without the barrier of the door to block out the sound scretching out from the inside, the voice of Philippa's screaming hits them in full blow. The chamber is dimly-lighted, but they still can see the shadows of movements and certain highlighted elements. There are only two people in that room, one male standing over the female one with a tool held in his hand. The female prisoner is strapped in a horizontal cross, arms and legs stretched out in four different angles while the man looms over from above her head. Dimeritium cuffs mar Philippa's abused wrist from each side, but that is the least of her worries. She is crying and moaning in pain, blood pouring out from both sides of her face, soaking everything it touches, including her dampened hair. The same blood is steadily dripping from the scooper tool in King Radovid V's hand, which upon closer inspection reveals to have scooped out a certain rounded organ.

The king lets the ball of organ drop to the floor, making it bounce slightly with a sickening sound before it rolls over to join its counterpart. When the bloody object rolls facing the two men's direction, they suck in their breath, realizing that those things are eyes. Philippa's eyes. The king had scooped them out as he tortured her.

Philippa's breathing is raging unsteadily, but at least she is still alive. For now. There's so much blood coming out from the sockets where her eyes are supposed to be that they can't tell for sure if she's gonna survive this or not if left unattended.

Nobody deserves to be tortured like this. Not even their enemy. Geralt and Iorveth nod at each other, making up their mind. Before the king can make another move, they two catch him by surprise before he is even aware that they are there, attacking with blows to the head one after the other consecutively to the point that they will surely leave some trauma to the head, instantly knocking the king out of consciousness.

Radovid V's body drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes, instantly ending Philippa's torture. Perhaps it's because of how badly injured she is, that the two intruders decide to help her out and cut her loose from her bindings. Geralt overs her a hand, but even as injured as she is, Philippa is still stubborn enough to make herself stand up on her own, blood covering most of her face and chest once the dim candlelight shine upon her person.

"Who is it?" Philippa grumbles, voice sore and dry.

"Does it matter?" Geralt counters.

"Ah, Geralt. I know that voice anywhere. What do you think? Like my new look? Should I thank you for saving me?" she spits out sarcastically.

"We're not here to fight. Come on, we've got things to do," Geralt says.

"Not so fast," Iorveth interjects. "We've saved you—that means you owe us. Now release Saskia from your spell."

"Owe you? Did I say that? Because I can't recall," Philippa chuckles craftly. Even after losing both of her eyes, she can still act like a snake. They try not to look, but they can't help but to stare at the empty sockets where her eyes used to be. "Tell you what, if you help me out of these things," she gestures at the thick Dimeritium cuffs around her wrists, "I'll consider your request."

"It's not a request, and it's not negotiable," Iorveth all but grumbles.

Geralt sees that his friend is seconds away from wringing his hands around her neck, injured or not, so he puts his hand on Iorveth's shoulder to calm him down. "Careful. She's useless to us dead," he says remindingly.

"I know that," Iorveth replies without turning his head, still glaring at the polymorph who has entrapped his comrade. If she had her magic now, she wouldn't have spent spare any time to transform into her owl form and fly right out of here, blind or not. But as long as they have the upper hand and she can't use any magic with the cuffs on, then they'll use the opportunity to benefit them as much as possible.

"Undo the spell, and we'll help get you out of this camp. That's all we can offer. You'll have to figure out how to remove the cuffs by yourself."

The tip of her lips curve into a prudish smile. "Alright then, fine by me. I'll take what I can get."

"Do it then."

"I can't. I've got to find my dagger."

"Dagger? What dagger?"

"The dagger that I used to complete the binding spell. It's the only thing I can use to unbind the same spell. And it's not with me. We've got to get back to my lab for it."

Geralt and Iorveth share a look, before finally nodding in agreement. "Alright, we'll get you there. But you better not try to run away."

Phillipa shrugs her shoulders almost innocently. "Where am I gonna go?"

They're already so close to reaching the cell where they keep Triss, Geralt and Iorveth decide to simply split up to manage their time better. Iorveth will oversee to it that Phillipa gets to the dagger and have the binding spell on Saskia be removed, while Geralt will go ahead and rescue Triss as how it was originally planned. They split up at the intersection at the passageway. And while Iorveth doesn't really know how to navigate to her lab through these secret tunnels, he will stay in alert as he follows her down the path, not wanting to have her run before he can help free his comrade.

Geralt watches as the two disappears into the opposite direction before he travels down the rest of the path down to the prison cells. The witcher manages to sneak the rest of his way through the Nilfgaardian camp smoothly thanks to following Cynthia's instructions. They way long, but eventually he manages to find the spot Cynthia told him about. Small ventilations near the wall ceiling allow torch light to glow into the passageway a bit, just like any other wall. What makes this side of the wall different is that there's supposed to be a secret door that he can push open, just like how it did when he and Iorveth went out to stop the Redina king.

He feels around the walls for a little bit until he finds that gap in between the walls, before he starts pushing to the right. The secret door leads him to a lonely hallway. He scans the perimeter a little bit, searching for any signs of Nilfgaardian guards, before stepping out.

Not wanting to make a sound, Geralt proceeds to inspect the holding cell one by one, looking for a familiar face. Most of the cells are empty, and the ones that aren't are filled with men. It isn't until he reaches the end of the corridor that he finally spots a familiar figure resting on a stone bench.

He sees her first, his heart thumping with delight and anticipation, for a moment forgetting about how she had deceived him. His boots thump just a little bit louder as he increases his pace.

Triss looks worn out and exhausted, and the sight of her only makes his heart ache with worries. What had they done to her?

"Triss, Triss, it's me. I'm getting you out of here," he whispers lowly, not wanting to alert anyone. She doesn't hear him at first, her eyes are closed and her back leaning against the wall behind her despondently.

She is hallucinating. Yes, that must be it. There's no way that she's hearing his voice in here. But then the same voice repeats calling her name once more, and Triss is pushed by this urge to open her eyes. When she does, she can't help but to be surprised when she sees him.

"G-geralt? What are you— How did you get here?"

"Long story. Let's talk later. Right now, we need to get you out of here."

"But how? I'm cuffed and the guards have the key."

To answer her question, Geralt immediately unsheaths his sword and makes his way to the door, before making a quick cutting motion. The chains and lock of the cell become undone right at the rest second, thumbling to the floor in a clatter.

Triss winches the noise it makes. Geralt pushes the door open and she stands up. There's a certain hard, intense look in his eyes as he takes in her form, making her breath hitches just a little bit, her chest swell and tightens underneath her suddenly tight top. He makes the same prompt over the cuffs with his sword, before cut off the Dimeritium cuffs around her wrists with one swift strike as well.

Her rubs at her sore wrists once they are free. It has only been a few hours, but being put under the block has caused her magic to be pent up, trapped inside her body with no way out to channel it. Having the cuffs cut out of her feels rejuvenating, as if she's this close to tasting fresh air, even when she's still in this dingy dungeon.

"Let's get out of here," he says.

Triss is so happy for being freed that she can't stop herself from throwing her arms around him. Geralt stay still while she expressing her gratitude, almost leaning in to kiss him. She's so ecstatic that she barely even notices it when his body stiffens against her, hands hesitating to wrap themselves around her body. But when she tries to plant a kiss on his kiss, Geralt backs away from her.

"Geralt? What's wrong?" she asks, confused written on her smooth facial features.

"I know, Triss. I remember," he says cryptically.

"Know? Know what?" the redheaded sorceress still has no idea what he's talking about. They really shouldn't be doing this, right here, right now, especially when the guards can come down to check on patrol anytime soon. But something about the tone of his voice makes her want to see this through.

But the next words that come from his mouth washes her like cold water. "I know what you did, Triss. You kept her away from me. How could you?"

A/N If you like this and want to have a story commissioned. You can contact Stella Purple at these addresses

You can also find her works on Ao3. Type in keyword Stella Purple writing-commission