sooo technically nightmares and flashbacks are two totally different things but these are flashback-y nightmares so i'm saying it counts. and it counts double if they bleed over into the daytime too right? anyway to save time we're just gonna say that this takes place in the same universe as 'under the knife' except now the ending of b&w matters and it's the one where dettlaff dies (or one of them anyway) –bel

Night and Day (Witcher – Flashbacks)

It was hard for Geralt to get a full night's sleep at Corvo Bianco. He didn't know exactly why it was—he was, financially speaking, more secure than he'd ever been in his life, not to mention more comfortable, with an entire vineyard to call his own. Ciri was safe in Nilfgaard, or as safe as one could be in Nilfgaard, and she visited more often than he suspected Emhyr was aware of. And Yennefer—Yennefer was always next to him, and they hadn't truly fought in months, and some part of him was beginning to wonder if he was, in fact, becoming too comfortable, if the long peace was a sign of something worse yet to come. But as time wore on, and nothing particularly exciting happened except for one or two clandestine visits from Ciri, he finally started to feel at peace.

That was when the nightmares started.

At first they were innocuous enough—the kind of bad dreams that everyone had. He was used to chasing and being chased in real life, so even though he sometimes woke up with a racing heart, he didn't think much of them, and they didn't impact the life he'd built for himself. They were gone only minutes after he woke, and even if pressed he wouldn't have been able to recall their contents with any sort of clarity.

As the weeks progressed, though, they slowly but surely became more disturbing. It started small. The nameless terrors he was forced to fight became monsters, ones he'd faced all too many times and, occasionally, even barely gotten away from. Those, too, transformed, until he was being haunted nightly by the faces of Eredin, of Vilgefortz, of Dettlaff van der Eretein, whom he'd forced one of his closest friends to kill. (He hadn't seen Regis since then, either, and that thought was now painfully pushed to the forefront of his mind.) Every worry he'd ever had, every battle he'd ever fought, all tugged into his waking hours.

In the mornings, he would try to put them out of his mind. He'd think about them for a few minutes, let the thoughts run their course and disappear, and pray that would be enough. It never was. They lingered in his mind, resurfaced at the most inopportune moments, when he wasn't able to be by himself, to hide his reactions from people. Some of the workers had already taken notice. Unfortunately for him, Yennefer had too.

"Geralt, if you don't tell me what's wrong, how am I supposed to be able to help you?"

He closed the book he'd been reading (or attempting to read) with a sigh and looked up at her. She was sitting across from him at the table, not paying attention to her own reading because she'd been studying him so intently. He'd thought he would never again be uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but he'd gotten so little sleep the past few days that he found himself easily becoming irritated by it.

"Couldn't you just read my mind and find out? That's what you always do anyway."

He knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to say. Her face closed off, eyes devoid of emotion as she snapped the book shut. The sound was quiet, but it still managed to echo in the large main room of the house. "I assumed you didn't want me to," she said coldly as she stood. "I assumed we were past that. Forgive me for thinking otherwise."

"Yen—" he started to say, but she was already gone, and the door swung behind her, letting in flashes of the late afternoon light. He knew he was being stubborn. He should've just told her, but he'd tried so hard to keep her from shouldering his burdens, to take them on himself as he felt he should. If he'd been more open, he had no doubt she would've figured out a way to help him. And it would be easy for her, with her extensive knowledge of magic, to think of something to try, even if it didn't work. He was going to have to come up with one hell of an apology to get out of this one.

~oOo~

He left the house and took a walk around the farthest reaches of the vineyard, and when he came back, to his surprise, Yennefer was there, sitting at her previously vacated spot at the table. She didn't look at him when he came in, but he saw her stiffen, grip her legs just a little tighter where her hands rested on them. There was a glass on the table in front of him. Even with his heightened senses, he couldn't tell what was in it. He took his seat across from her and waited. It would be best, he thought, to let her speak first. After a moment, she did.

"When I first started staying here—when I moved in—I…" She paused, cleared her throat, staring at the table like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was rare for her to be so uncomfortable talking about something that she wouldn't even look him in the eyes. To him, she'd always seemed unflappable. "I thought about Rivia often. At first it would only be at night, but after a while it got worse. This was the only thing that was letting me sleep." She nodded towards the glass in front of her.

Geralt was dumbstruck, immediately slammed with guilt. He hadn't even known. Yennefer had always been good at keeping her feelings to herself, but this was beyond anything he could've imagined from her. "Why didn't you tell me?" It didn't seem like the kind of thing he should be asking her, but he needed to know. He'd thought they were beyond keeping secrets.

She sighed, and finally looked up at him. Her lips twisted into something vaguely approximating a smile. "You already had enough to deal with," she said. "Besides, I took care of it. And if this helped me, it'll help you." She nudged the glass forward just a touch, then settled her hand back on her leg. He glanced at it distastefully for only a few seconds before he turned his attention away.

"I could've helped you."

"I know." She laughed a little. Something had softened in her eyes since he'd seen her a few hours ago. He hoped it meant she wasn't still upset. "And I can help you. This will help."

Slowly, keeping his eyes on her, he reached out and picked up the glass. The stuff seemed to coat his throat going down, and he still couldn't tell what it was. When he set the empty glass down, she smiled, fully this time. "Things will be a lot easier," she said ruefully, "if we just start helping each other."

tbh i feel like the end of this is kind of anticlimactic but i'm trying to keep these prompts chill? or as chill as something like this can be lol. i might also expand this one in the future because i really enjoyed writing it

still taking prompts over on tumblr, though i have several that i've already got ideas for so i might have to post an updated card lol. it's probably obvious by now but i'm trying to alternate fandoms between chapters so there's not too much of one fandom, though depending on what prompts i get or come up with ideas for, that might change. i've got it planned through the first nine or ten though probably

(also i swear to god i'm still working on grand words, i'm just also doing nanowrimo - or trying to hit the word count across all my projects anyway - which means i'm working on Everything to be able to hit those word goals, and just happened to finish this first)