Conjunction
Chapter 14 - The Monster and the Monarch
Sitting at their table in the inn, Dandelion explained, "King Henselt himself requested the contract. I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to get back into his good graces after that whole Roche thing."
Geralt scowled. "He already owes me for keeping Roche from killing him. Not to mention helping him lift Sabrina Glevissig's curse."
Dandelion looked sympathetic. "I know this, but he clearly still thinks you were working with Roche - which you were, I might add. This will at least give him a public debt he owes you. Plus, it would be good for the Witchers in general, wouldn't it?"
Geralt had to concede on that point. Anything he could do to smooth the feathers of Kaedwen's reigning monarch would be good for the Witchers. But that was the least of his worries when he considered there was a monster loose in the city's sewers terrorizing and killing people.
He looked at Solona with a grim expression. "Looks like we're going hunting for a monster."
She looked back with a quizzical half smile, "Is it that bad, really?"
"It's death. With eight legs and pincers," he said, gravely.
Dawn was still at least an hour away when three hooded figures crept through the dark city streets followed by a four-legged shadow. They walked silently to the edge of the city, and the lead figure pointed to a small alleyway that ran along the outer city wall. Several yards along the wall the figure turned and disappeared down a steep flight of steps that ended at a heavy wooden door. The door opened soundlessly and they stepped through into utter darkness.
Solona heard the soft *pop* of a cork being drawn out of a bottle and heard Geralt swallowing deeply. "Light," he whispered softly into Solona's ear after the door had closed behind them with a heavy thud. She could smell the strong scent of unfamiliar herbs on his breath.
The staff she held began to glow softly along its entire length, just enough to illuminate the steep steps that continued deeper into the sewers beneath the city. There was a subtle stench of filth and refuse where they stood near the door, and it became gradually more harsh and cloying as they descended into the darkness.
At the bottom of the steps they reached a deep, wide ditch carved into the rock the city was built upon. It was full of icy cold sewage and Solona wrinkled her nose, suddenly regretting wearing her good armor. She pushed her hood back and whispered, "Which way?" Dandelion gestured silently down the tunnel to the right. When she turned she saw there was a small ledge just wide enough for them to walk along single-file, although they would need to crouch slightly to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling of the tunnel where it curved above them.
Geralt took the lead with Solona just behind him, followed by Dandelion and then Lusa. Several yards along they reached a metal grate in the middle of the ditch. Geralt stepped down into the dark, knee-deep water and unlatched it, pushing it open. It gave a loud, metallic creak that made them all jump. Geralt cursed softly and unsheathed his silver sword in response to the dark figures that began to rise from the water around them. Solona cast a quick spell to fortify their defenses then turned to take stock of their attackers. She recognized them as drowners - the same creatures that had attacked her and Geralt by the lake several weeks ago. She heard Lusa growl menacingly and then his ferocious bark and snapping teeth as he leaped at one of the creatures attacking them from the rear. Geralt was engaged with a handful of the creatures that had begun coming through the grate he had just opened, his silver blade flashing in the dim blue light emitted from her staff.
She focused on a pair that were sloshing through the sewage towards herself and Dandelion, aiming the end of her staff at them and pushing her will through it. The force hit them and threw them back into the water, but they rose again and continued advancing on her. She quickly shoved her cloak back and stowed her still glowing staff in the holster at her back. With both hands free she focused her will again and pushed. The two creatures flew back hard against the opposite wall, a small tidal wave of sewage following them. They splattered into the rock as though an invisible fist had just flattened them against it. Their remains slid down the rock in wet, slippery clumps, falling and hitting the ground with soft splats.
"Holy shit," she heard Dandelion whisper at her side.
She turned to look behind them and saw Lusa making quick work of the creature that had attacked from the rear, then turned to where Geralt was knee-deep in the water, still engaged with five of the creatures that had come through the grate. The creatures were too close to him for her to send another force spell at the group, but she could sense his energy wavering and threw a small spell to bolster his stamina. She saw him make a small gesture with his free hand and the creatures he was fighting flew back a few feet, allowing him space to regroup. She could see him calculating his next attack. His stance changed subtly, his sword swinging around in wide arcs as he and the creatures advanced on each other. Suddenly he lunged, whipping his sword around in a blur, slicing through all five of them at once. Two of them dropped dead from the hit and the other three wavered, but were cut down on the backswing, splashing dead into the water.
Without a word, Geralt quickly sheathed his sword and motioned for them to continue through the open grate.
They continued through the maze of dark tunnels for another hour and were at a junction of two tunnels trying to decide which direction to go. When they approached the intersection, Solona started getting an odd, familiar feeling, like the hum of bees at the base of her skull. She stopped abruptly. Darkspawn? It couldn't be... not here! She leaned over, her hands on her knees, and shook her head trying to clear the feeling.
Noticing her distress, Geralt stepped over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Solona, what is it?" he whispered.
She looked at him, her confusion clear on her face. "It feels like darkspawn, but there's no way they could be here. Whatever it is, it's close."
"Which way?"
She pointed down one tunnel and he started down it resolutely, sword poised and ready for a fight. She followed, her dread a solid lump in her belly.
After several yards the tunnel sloped up out of the water and opened into a large cistern with barrel-vaulted ceilings supported at intervals by immense columns. The light from Solona's staff only penetrated a little way into the gloom but she could sense the presence of something in the darkness beyond. The closer they had gotten to it, the more she realized the feeling was different from the sensation of normal darkspawn she'd become accustomed to during the Blight. There was something big in here, however. Big and nasty.
They heard the eerie sound of rhythmic clicking on hard stone coming from the shadows across the large, empty space. Lusa started growling, teeth bared and saliva dripping from his jaws. Solona urged him to hold back until they knew what they were fighting. The four of them stood tense and ready, waiting to find out what lurked in the darkness.
Geralt knew what it was when he heard the clicking sounds. It was the Koshchey - somehow Solona had sensed its presence here, her ability to sense the evil creatures from her world allowing her to find this creature as well. He would ponder the implications of that later. He waited patiently, knowing it would come to them, and he would be ready.
The clicking noise grew closer to them and a set of eight glowing blue eyes emerged from the darkness. There was a low screeching sound as they saw the creature raise a pair of long, jointed arms with pincers at the end, snapping loudly. The creature lunged at them suddenly, its eight jointed legs propelling it towards them in a blur.
"Move!" Geralt yelled as he dodged and tumbled quickly to one side. Solona followed suit, tumbling in the opposite direction, ending up in a small alcove on the opposite wall. She stood and turned quickly, in time to see Dandelion cowering before the large creature, its pincers poised above him ready to strike. The creature's claws snapped together with hard cracks and it was clear to her anything that got caught between them would be cut in two.
Lusa leaped onto the creature's back with a loud growl, but it ignored him, its armor too sturdy for him to have any effect on it. She yelled, "Lusa, to me!" The dog reluctantly retreated, jumping off the back of the creature and running over to stand beside her.
The buzzing in her head was deafening this close to the creature, but there was a new sensation that began in the center of her chest and radiated outwards. It was like every molecule in her body was vibrating with power. She didn't have time to process it, however, knowing only that she needed to crush the creature that was threatening her friend. She saw Geralt on the other side of the creature, his sword raised and stalking around to the back of it getting ready to strike.
She crouched slightly and felt the power building in her as she readied her spell, then cast it abruptly with a furious yell, punching the air just before her as though it were the focus of her attack. She watched in astonishment as an ethereal image of a fist emerged from her own and hurtled towards the beast, growing in size as it reached its mark. There was a roar of wind as the force of her spell sucked the air from around it and the ghostly fist hit the beast with a loud crunch, sending it sliding across the stone floor with a screech of shell on stone and forcing it into the opposite wall. It hit hard, its armor cracking into pieces and its legs crumpling up with the force. Several chunks of rock crumbled down from the wall behind it at the sudden impact.
The buzzing in her head stopped abruptly. The creature lay there unmoving but for one twitching appendage that gradually stilled. Dandelion still crouched, whimpering, then slowly looked up between his arms, cautiously curious about the sudden silence in the room. He saw Geralt standing across the room from him, his sword dangling from one hand and staring awestruck at Solona who simply stood in the little alcove, a look of shock still on her face at the result of the spell she had just cast.
Geralt walked over to her quickly, his concern evident on his face. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, speechless, and turned to face him, a look of amazement still plastered on her face. When he reached her he sensed it. She was standing in the middle of a place of power and it had infused her without her even having to act on it, other than being inside its aura, and she still seemed to be unconsciously drawing on its power.
He urged her out of the alcove and had her sit against a column a few yards away. She immediately felt the vibrating energy inside her dissipate and let out a sigh of relief. "What the hell was that?" she asked, the question coming out in one long breath. Geralt was inspecting the alcove, trying to see if there was anything unique about this particular place of power, but it appeared to be just like all the rest he had encountered. He shook his head in consternation. "It's just a normal place of power," he said in amazement. He turned to her and asked, "What did you do when you got to it?"
She looked up at him, an expression of amazement still showing on her face. "I just stood … there," she pointed where she had been standing, and shrugged her shoulders. "It felt... odd... but I didn't think about it. I didn't have time to think about it. I just... " she shrugged her shoulders again, looking over at the crumpled form of the Koshchey on the other wall.
Geralt went to the carcass of the beast, climbing up and perching precariously atop its body. He proceeded to pry up its shattered armored shell, trying to reach its heart, which he cut out with a few quick strokes of his dagger. He stowed it in a pouch at his belt, then gracefully jumped down from the creature. Once on the ground, he went around to one of its pincers and took out his sword, hacking at it until it came free, then hung the trophy on a small hook that dangled from his belt.
He turned to check on his friend. He saw that Dandelion had recovered from the fright and was kneeling next to Solona, talking to her quietly. She was laughing. Geralt felt a sudden surge of jealousy and buried it. He knew better than to let his emotions get away from him like this.
He walked over to them and Dandelion stood up when he approached. "Well that was pretty spectacular, don't you agree?"
Geralt only nodded, crouching down to make sure Solona was okay. She waved him off abruptly.
"I'm fine," she said. "It was just surprising... I've never had that kind of power at my disposal before. All my spells since I've been here have been harder to control, but that was... like nothing I've ever felt before," she said, still awestruck. "And that fist-thing... I've never seen that before, either."
She stood up and stroked Lusa's head absently. "Lets head back then, unless you guys feel like spending the day down here... we could have a picnic but I forgot to bring any sandwiches."
It was late morning when they made it to the doors of the castle to request their bounty.
They were made to wait outside the throne room for several minutes and stood uncomfortably in the outer hall. Geralt paced impatiently and Solona could tell he was anxious about the audience they were about to have with Kaedwen's king.
"Is he really that bad?" she whispered to him when his pacing brought him close enough. He shook his head at her and said, "The last time I saw him was in the middle of a war I was trying to stop. A friend of mine was about to murder him... I stopped him, but Henselt didn't exactly regard what I had done as a favor. It might have something to do with me knocking him out before we left." He shrugged sheepishly.
"Why did your friend want to kill him?" Solona asked.
Geralt sighed softly and sat on the bench next to her, elbows resting on his knees. In a low voice he explained, "My friend - Roche - was the leader of an order of Temerian spies. During the war we both aided Henselt in securing Lormark … a section of Pontar Valley in northern Aedirn. We were loyal to him... as loyal as mercenaries can be, anyway. Henselt's advisor accused Roche's team of conspiracy and had them all executed. Understandably, that didn't exactly sit well with Roche. We took care of the advisor, but Roche was hell bent on taking vengeance on the king as well, which wouldn't have done anyone any good. Henselt's a despicable man but he's good for the kingdom. Kaedwen's prospered under his rule and killing him would have just thrown it into chaos. Especially because he has no heir to speak of. It would have meant civil war for the kingdom if he had died."
Solona was about to ask another question when a steward finally permitted them entry. They were the first petitioners of the day which was apparent when they walked into the large hall where the king kept court. There were still several underlings darting around the room making things ready for the day as they approached the throne. The king sat stiffly on his throne and watched them approach. He immediately recognized Geralt and gave him a long, serious frown.
They reached the foot of the throne and Solona looked up at the man who rested upon it. He was middle-aged, with a thick, neatly trimmed beard and small, beady eyes that burned with intensity. He was dressed as resplendently as a king should be, with a large crown and thick, embroidered velvet robes. She saw his gaze bore into Geralt as they stood there.
The king spoke in a deep, melodic voice, "Ah, Geralt of Rivia. To what do I owe this unexpected visit."
"Your grace," Geralt began, his deep voice unwavering, "we've come to tell you that we've fulfilled your contract to kill the monster terrorizing your people. We've proof of the creature's demise and respectfully request the reward for the deed." He threw the Koshchey's claw down at the foot of the throne. She could tell from his tone that he held some disdain for the man he was speaking to. She could also tell that it wasn't lost on the king, either.
"I had wondered whether you would be the one to answer the contract, or if it would be one of your brother Witchers. Our last meeting was unfortunate. I was hoping to have another opportunity to speak with you, under calmer circumstances." The king's eyes shifted over to fall on Solona. They sized her up in a way that made her skin prickle uncomfortably. What a creep, she thought, but met his gaze and held it steadily without a word.
Henselt gave a cursory glance to Dandelion and the dog before he looked back at Geralt. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Witcher? I would like to know who else assisted you in completing this contract; who else I owe the well-being of my people to, after all."
The king turned to look meaningfully at Solona, his eyes raking down her body and leaving her with an uncomfortable feeling. She looked over at Geralt and realized that he hadn't been oblivious to the king's attention to her either. His jaw was clenched trying to maintain control and his eyes burned with fury. He finally took a deep breath and introduced them in the most polite way he could manage under the circumstances.
"I'm sure you already know the bard, Dandelion, my liege." He gestured at his friend who nodded in deference. "And my other companion is Solona Amell." He didn't elaborate. She only nodded her head in greeting.
The king looked back at her with interest. "Ah, Miss Amell. I've heard rumours about you, young lady. The people are calling you the White Queen for some reason. Do you know what that means?" She looked back at him surprised. Why were they calling her that? Only the dryads had called her that since she'd been here. The dryads and Flemeth, anyway.
"Who are you really, my dear?" Henselt asked, intensely curious.
"I'm just a traveler, sir," she said, refusing to address him with any more deference.
"I find that very hard to believe," he said and made a subtle gesture with one hand.
Suddenly there were several guards surrounding them, two of them were grabbing hold of Solona's arms and restraining her, urging her to move towards a door on one side of the hall.
She gave Geralt a panicked look and he shook his head slightly at her then turned to the king. Lusa stood up abruptly and began growling at the guards who held her captive. She said softly, "Lusa, no. Go with Geralt." The dog gave her a dubious look and then went back to sit next to the Witcher. The guards continued to escort her through the door.
"Henselt!" Geralt growled forcefully. "What is the meaning of this? She means nothing to you. Let her go!" He all but yelled the words at the king.
"Ah, quite the contrary my friend. If she is the White Queen she means quite a lot to me. I intend to find out exactly who she is. If she is who I believe she is then I'm afraid I may need to keep her." He gestured to an advisor who stepped forward and handed Geralt a pouch heavy with gold and they were summarily escorted out of the hall and deposited on the steps of the palace.
Geralt cursed loudly, clenching his fist with white knuckles around the bag of money still clutched in his hand.
"We'll get her out, Geralt," Dandelion said, trying to comfort his friend. "There has to be a way to change the man's mind at least. Who is this 'White Queen' he thinks she is, anyway? He's delusional if he thinks that's her, right?"
Geralt only shook his head and paced back and forth on the steps trying to think of something, anything they could do to get Solona away from Henselt. Finally he said, his tone slightly absent and preoccupied, "It must have something to do with the little performance at the inn last night. The White Queen... it's part of the prophecy. He must know about it if he's connected her to it."
Dandelion said, "Wait a second, you're not saying that she is this 'white queen' Henselt is so hot after?"
Geralt only nodded and turned to glare at the closed palace gates as though he could tear them down with a look.
"Geralt, who is she? I've heard her story, I know she's from another world, which is impressive enough, but what is it about this prophecy that has a king in such a frenzy to have her? Clearly there's more to the story than she's shared with me so far."
Geralt looked at his friend and sat heavily on the steps, resigned to the idea that there was nothing he could do at the moment. He told his friend everything. When he was finished, he said, "I don't know what Henselt thinks he's going to do with her, but we have to get her out. We don't have time to waste. I should have known better than to take her with us to meet him. I just never thought he might have an interest in the prophecy. I should have known better."
Dandelion sat dazed, still processing the details of Geralt's tale. No wonder his friend was so attached to this woman after such a short time. He actually almost felt a little guilty for the small amount of intimacy he'd had with her. He stood up and grabbed Geralt's shoulders tightly in each hand and shook him slightly, saying, "Geralt! We'll get her out. We'll figure out a way, even if we have to break down the walls to do it."
Geralt attempted a small smile of gratitude at his friend's loyalty and continued trying to think of a solution.
Solona was escorted up several flights of steps and down a long hallway where she was locked in a richly appointed room that overlooked the terraced city below her. The view was spectacular but it was lost on her as she tried to figure out how get out of her predicament. She knew she could blast her way through the walls, but had gotten the sense from Geralt that it would be wiser to attempt a more diplomatic resolution and avoid alienating the man they were dealing with. Clearly killing the bastard was not an option, unfortunately. She needed to know what Henselt really wanted from her before she would know how to negotiate with him.
She paced the room impatiently for what seemed like hours until the door finally opened and King Henselt himself entered followed by two men in long robes. She stopped pacing and stood stock still as she watched them come into the room. The king smiled at her indulgently. "Hello, my dear," he said and his beady eyes roved over her body like they owned her.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded forcefully, trying to ignore his look.
"If I'm not mistaken, you are the prophesied White Queen. It's rather fortuitous that you ended up in my palace today, don't you think?"
"If you know of the prophecy then you know my purpose. It's not to be held captive by some horndog of a king."
"I don't put much stock in prophecy, but I know my people do. If they believe you're the White Queen, they will accept you as my consort. And if I manage to get a child on you then my line is secure."
She gaped at him in disbelief. "You want to marry me? You are crazy."
"Not just marry you, my dear," he said. As he spoke he gradually advanced on her until he was finally standing inches away from her. He reached out and grabbed her backside in a solid grip, pulling her into him. She felt his fingers digging into her flesh and gritted her teeth. Reflexively she let out a small burst of will to push him away. He grunted softly at the force and staggered back, blinking in confusion.
Flames coated her hands. Her face screwed up with rage and disgust. Through clenched teeth she said, "If you ever touch me again, I will burn you."
He regained his balance and stood up straighter. He smirked at her. "My dear, you don't understand the power at my disposal." He gestured and she saw the two robed men begin to walk towards her.
She still could feel the remnants of the power from her earlier experience in the sewers and decided to take advantage of it, throwing up a solid shield around her. They didn't seem to notice. She saw one of them begin gesturing and chanting and threw a hand out at him, tossing a paralysis spell. He froze in place when the spell hit him, stuck in an awkward gesture. His partner turned his head sharply in alarm. "You think you're going to beat me, do you?" she said with a wicked grin. She made the subtlest flick of her wrist, pushing her will into the motion, and the man flew back hard against the wall behind him, his head cracking on the stone. His body slid down the wall and ended in an unconscious heap on the floor.
She looked back at the king with a satisfied smirk. "We can talk this out or I can keep going," she said, magic crackling along her fingertips. "There is something you should know before you try again, of course. It wasn't Geralt that killed the Koshchey this morning. It was me. And I did it as easily as I just dealt with your two sorry excuses for sorcerers."
The king stood placidly before her, looking with indifference at the two men she had dealt with so adeptly. "A sorcerer, I see. And a powerful one at that," he observed. With a contempt he said, "More powerful than the ones I keep around, clearly." The two vanquished sorcerers were dismissed with a wave of his hand, exiting the door in a stupor and closing it firmly behind them.
He pondered the situation briefly. He knew from experience that it would be folly to piss off a sorceress of her caliber. "Fine. Lets negotiate."
She drew back the power of her spell and dropped her hands, relaxing slightly. "What is it you want from me exactly?"
He found a chair and sat with a loud sigh. "I need an heir."
She laughed out loud, "Well, you should probably know that even if I wanted to, it's highly likely I'm as infertile as you are. Anyway, what gave you the bright idea that kidnapping a woman was the best way to woo her?"
"I don't make a habit of kidnapping. You're quite unique you realize."
"I understand that, but do you have any idea what the prophecy actually says? It doesn't say I'm destined to be raped by a king and bear his heir."
He hesitated. "I know the prophecy speaks of a saviour from the south, beyond the Yaruga river, Miss Amell, and of the world being reborn through the White Queen and the White Flame. It was strongly believed at one point that the Nilfgaardian emperor and his daughter were these figures, but that proved false."
She found another chair and pulled it over to sit facing the king. "The prophecy is real, in spite of your arrogant attempt at circumventing it. I am real. And according to the prophecy, there's only one man alive who is capable of getting me pregnant, and it's not you. If there were any way I could help you, believe me I would, if only to get out of this room."
He frowned at her condescending tone, but she could tell her words were sinking in. While she waited for him to respond, the wheels in her mind turned, processing the concept of fertility and the things that might hinder it. She didn't know yet what hindered Witcher fertility and suspected that there was something about the ritual that would allow them to get over that hurdle, but there were only a few things that might cause a normal man to be unable to get a woman pregnant.
She looked at the king curiously. There may be something she could do for him after all. "May I ask you a few personal questions?" He sat regarding her silently and then nodded.
"First, have you fathered children before?"
His tone was unemotional and to the point. "Yes. My late wife bore me a son. He's dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Have you ever sustained an injury to … ah ... your reproductive organs?"
He shook his head but his expression grew curious. "No. That's something a man would remember. What are you getting at, my dear?"
She cleared her throat and stood up, motioning for him to stand up as well. He stood and watched in fascinated silence as she stepped close to him. He observed that she carried herself with easy confidence and was undaunted by his stature. Sorcerers as skilled as she was were rarely intimidated by power, which irked him somewhat. The similarity to Sabrina Glevissig struck him, but he realized this woman had much kinder eyes as she approached him, although they twinkled slightly with mischief. Perhaps she was still young enough to find humor in absurd situations. It was exceedingly attractive to him.
When she drew close to him her mouth was set in a hard line and she said slightly under her breath, "Just want to check something." She reached a hand out quickly towards his groin and grasped him tightly through his robes. He let out a loud yelp of surprise, and with a high pitched squeak demanded, "What are you doing?"
"Hold still, I'm trying to help you," she said and grabbed his backside tightly with her other hand to keep him still. See how you like it, bastard, she thought and laughed inwardly. She focused her will into the hand grasping his equipment and tried to sense any kind of affliction that might be causing his problem. There it is, she could sense the small obstruction and focused on it to clear it, healing energy radiating out from her fingertips. She ignored the heavy breathing coming from the king.
When she felt his hand start to grope her backside again she shot him a warning glance. "Do you really want to try that when I have your balls in my hand, Your Majesty?" Her grip tightened subtly enough to reinforce her statement.
He swallowed hard and dropped his hand, turning his head to stare out the window in feigned indifference while she worked. Aside from her tight grip on him, whatever she was doing to him felt astoundingly pleasant, her fingers radiating a tingling warmth that seeped into his flesh. In spite of his efforts he was unable to control his response.
When Solona sensed the last of the obstruction dissipating she was aware of how aroused the king was. For good measure she pushed one last little surge of magic through her fingers. He made a satisfied grunt and shuddered briefly before collapsing back into his chair. His breathing was labored and his bearded face was flushed and shimmered with a thin layer of sweat. She crossed her arms and looked at him, clearly unimpressed. "I cleared the path - that's the best I can do to help, and hopefully that's all you need. Go find a fertile woman to take to bed. Preferably one who's willing this time."
He nodded and stood, his face utterly composed as though he hadn't just been manhandled by a lovely sorcerer. "You have my gratitude if this works." Feeling suddenly charitable he said, "I should warn you, Lady Solona, I'm not the only leader in the Northern Kingdoms that might wish to use you to their advantage. Word of your existence has no doubt already reached the ears of many of them. If interest in this prophecy is rekindled you should know your life may be in danger. Many of them would sooner see you dead than at the disposal of one of the others."
She was surprised by his sudden show of honesty. She guessed her willingness to help him in spite of his treatment of her had changed his opinion somehow. I'm sure my little magical hand job had nothing to do with it, she thought and smirked.
"I appreciate the warning, sir. I've dealt with my share of assassins so I'm not terribly concerned about it. Now, you may be aware that there's a man outside currently plotting a way to break me out of captivity, and probably fully capable of pulling it off. So if you will permit me to go now I can ensure that nobody gets hurt."
Geralt, Dandelion, and Lusa were still sulking on the steps of the palace when they heard the heavy gates open up behind them. They turned in unison and watched with identical expressions of amazement as Solona strode towards them. When she saw them she smiled triumphantly. Geralt stood and walked quickly towards her, immediately looking her over for any signs of abuse. Seeing nothing amiss he grasped her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Did he hurt you?" he asked in a firm, quiet voice, rough with emotion.
She shook her head at him, evading the question, and said with feigned cheer, "Well, don't we have a bounty to spend?" She kept walking and they eventually followed her with equally confused expressions.
When they were back at the inn, she kept walking, leading them all the way up to the room she and Geralt were sharing.
Once the door was closed behind them all she looked Geralt in the eye and finally answered his question.
"He didn't hurt me... he tried, but even with his mages he was pretty ineffectual. I think I scared him a little, to be honest."
"What did he want with you, anyway?" Dandelion asked.
She giggled a little bit hysterically at the absurdity of it. "He... wanted me to have his baby, of all things. Well, and make me his queen. The man is pretty desperate for an heir. I guess he thought because I'm this prophesied White Queen for some reason that would make him suddenly fertile?"
Geralt shook his head at the idea. With an angry look, he asked, "He didn't try anything did he?"
With a smirk she answered, "Oh, he tried, but you'll be happy to know that my virtue, such as it is, is still intact. On the contrary, I think I actually made a friend in there, believe it or not. I think I was actually able to help the man with his little... problem..." She waggled glowy fingers in the general direction of Geralt's hips. "But of course that will remain to be seen. If it turns out he ends up with an heir after all, you'll know who to thank."
Geralt's eyes narrowed. "You did what exactly?"
Her eyes rolled to the ceiling trying to find the words to explain it. She cleared her throat. "Um, let's just say that I removed a barrier to his ability to procreate. It's no guarantee that he'll be successful but it gives him a better chance, at least."
As a non sequitur she added, "And apparently there are probably assassins after me."
She saw the consternation in Geralt's look and said suggestively, "If you would like I can give you a little demonstration later." He raised an eyebrow at her. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but was intrigued nonetheless.
In a hushed voice, she said, "Geralt, we need to talk about something."
She shot a pointed look at Dandelion who took the hint with no more encouragement. "Come along my furry friend," he said to Lusa, "Let us go practice our new ballad," and Lusa followed him out the door. She noticed that he'd also grabbed up the pouch with their bounty but neither she nor Geralt objected.
When Dandelion left the room all Geralt wanted to do was take her in his arms, but he held back. He was a Witcher. He felt the need to keep reminding himself of the fact. We're unemotional creatures. Showing emotion means showing weakness. So he just stood looking at her with his usual intensity.
Except his look made her feel like his hands were already on her, which made her breath escape her briefly.
"Geralt," she said with soft admonishment, "If you keep looking at me like that we're never going to be able to finish this."
He looked away from her and cleared his throat, "I … apologize. It's not like me to become this... attached to anyone. It's just... I was worried about you today. If Henselt hadn't let you leave I don't know what I would have done, but it wouldn't have been pretty."
She stepped towards him and rested her palm gently on his cheek. He turned back to her and met her eyes, his own filled with raw emotion that he tried unsuccessfully to suppress. She recognized the look in his eyes as the same one Alistair had given her on so many occasions when they were together, but there was something all too familiar about the way Geralt clearly struggled to control those feelings.
"Geralt..." she whispered and shook her head softly, "You can't let..."
Before she could utter another word his mouth was covering hers, his tongue probing with desperate need, as if to say, Yes, I can. And I will.
He suddenly didn't care if it was unwise for him to feel what he did, he just needed solid validation of her well being. He sensed some reticence in her after he silenced whatever objection she had been about to make, but soon she was responding to his touch with her normal fervor.
He deliberately took his time, undressing her slowly and wordlessly. He needed to see and touch every inch of her to assure himself that she was whole and unharmed. After removing a garment he would slide his hands softly across her smooth skin, trailing his lips behind them. She stood quietly, eyes closed, held captive by the web of sensations his fingertips and his mouth were weaving around her naked limbs. She could hear the deep susurrus of soft, foreign words murmured in between his kisses. She recognized the words as Elder Speech, but didn't know their meaning. "Solona, me minne, me cáerme,"repeated over and over as he trailed infinite kisses and caresses across her skin - Solona, my love, my destiny.
After several boundless moments saturated with sensation his caresses ended suddenly, leaving her bereft. She opened her eyes and saw him standing before her, gazing at her from beneath lowered lashes, his mouth still forming the words that held her spellbound. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him slowly undress. She stood transfixed as he unbuckled the fastenings on his jacket and shrugged out of it, letting it slide to the floor at his feet. He pulled his linen tunic up over his head, the muscles of his scarred abdomen rippling as he stretched to divest himself of the garment. He crouched down and unlaced his boots, then stood up again and lifted each foot, pulling his boots off one after the other and dropping them to the side.
Her eyes roved over him, imagining the feel of his scarred torso beneath her fingers, her lips, her tongue, and she involuntarily licked her lips as his hands went to the laces at the front of his breeches and began to undo them. Then his breeches fell to the floor with his other garments and he stepped close to her again, cupping her head in both hands and kissing her passionately. He pulled back slightly, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers for a moment. She could feel his lips moving against hers, speaking the same refrain as though it were a prayer. "Solona, me minne, me cáerme."
He stooped and placed an arm behind her knees, lifting her into his arms, and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently in the center and lying on his side beside her. He resumed his earlier explorations, his mouth focusing on her breasts and his fingers trailing down her abdomen to slide softly between her thighs. She uttered a low, plaintive moan. His attentions had caused a growing ache to build inside her and it was now a subtle throbbing need. She let out a small gasp as two of his thick digits slipped inside her, his thumb deftly finding her small nub and teasing it with small swirls.
"Geralt..." she whispered desperately, panting softly.
"Shhh," he urged quietly, and kissed her. She returned the kiss hungrily and reached her hands up, pulling at the tie that held his ponytail. His hair came free and hung down in a white curtain around their faces. Their eyes remained locked as he shifted his body over hers, his desire-hardened flesh brushing against her belly, the heat of his taut skin feeling like it was searing her wherever it touched her. She opened up to him, trembling with the need to be filled by his flesh, his blood, his bone. His eyes penetrated hers even as his hard length found her center and entered her. His lips began forming words again, whispering his mantra as he moved above her, flexing his hips to drive deep inside her.
His low, deep voice resonated through her as completely as the feel of his flesh piercing her own. She felt a barrier breaking down and the feeling was not unlike the way the king's little obstruction had felt to her earlier. Her own wall was purely emotional, however, and there was a sense of something painful on the other side that she wasn't yet ready to face. She tried to obscure the feelings again and unconsciously began speaking the words with him in an effort to drown out the feelings breaking through. Their voices became a chorus punctuated by the rhythm of their lovemaking. She focused desperately on his eyes and his lips forming those words that she didn't know the meaning of but understood them as well as she understood her own name when he spoke it, because all the meaning she needed was held in those three syllables coming from his mouth to her ears.
His thrusting subsided to a slow, even rhythm and she saw his brow crease with concern. He brought a hand up, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb and she realized suddenly that she was crying. She tilted her cheek into his palm and kissed it softly, at the same time urging him to quicken his pace with the grip of her thighs around his hips. He obliged, increasing his pace again to bury himself inside her faster and harder until their softly spoken words became loud cries of ecstasy as they climaxed together. When she regained her breath her fingers twined through his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss fraught with emotions she wasn't yet capable of speaking out loud.
He slipped out of her enticing warmth and lay beside her, pulling a blanket up to cover them both from the chill in the room that neither had noticed in the heat of their lovemaking. She kept her eyes on him, watching the muscles of his back and shoulders ripple as he adjusted the covers over them both then lay down next to her, laying one arm across her midsection and lowering his head to kiss her gently on one bare shoulder.
She found him utterly fascinating sometimes, the way he seemed to transition so effortlessly from a hardened monster slayer into such a tender, caring, man. But she could tell he struggled with the conflicting personas as much as she did. Can I be the person I need to be and still have something resembling happiness? She had resisted it so far... the happiness part... in fear of it becoming a distraction from her ultimate goal, and the detachment had become second nature to her. But something Flemeth had said kept nagging at her, making her think her ultimate goal this time might actually depend on her finally breaking down that wall. But she was so accustomed to fortifying herself every time someone got that close to her it had become a habit and ultimately resulted in her pushing whoever it was away at a certain point. Geralt had just gotten the closest anyone ever had to finally tearing her armor away and reaching her heart, but she'd still managed to make a last-ditch effort to keep her defenses up, as painful as it ended up being in the end. A small part of her understood this, but she was still largely in denial, thinking that, no, giving in to emotion would still be a bad thing. She didn't realize that the reflex was just a misdirected sense of self preservation.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind finally and focused on the comforting weight of him behind her and his arm wrapped around her. Eventually she finally succumbed to the exhaustion of the day that had already been too long in spite of it only being late afternoon.
She stood on a mountaintop that was already familiar from past dreams. She felt a strong presence behind her and turned to see the immense pale form of the white dragon crouched there. It was the same form she was so familiar with actually possessing in other dreams. She heard a low howl echo around her and turned back to see Geralt standing next to a large, white wolf. There was a massive chasm yawning between them, and she could see the familiar architecture of the Elven temple beyond it. Geralt's figure stood silently at the edge of the chasm, his hair blowing in the chill wind, while the wolf continued to howl beside him, its voice tearing into her very soul with its mournful cry. The dragon behind her trumpeted a cry of her own and stretched out her wings, turning her large head to look at Solona expectantly. I'm the one who has to cross the chasm, she realized, and looked back at the massive cleft with sudden apprehension. She turned away suddenly, shaking her head and crying out over and over, "I can't, I can't..."
It was deep night when Geralt awoke abruptly to the sound of her cries, instantly aware of her words and knowing they were the same words he saw forming on her lips across the chasm in his own dream.
He held her tightly and whispered in his deep voice, "Shhh. Yes you can. Yes you can." He stroked her hair gently and held her, realizing that she was awake when her body tensed in his arms.
She turned her head to look at him with a pleading expression. "Geralt. I can't. I don't know how."
He continued to hold her, at a loss for words of comfort. Finally he said, "We'll figure it out somehow, I promise."
Next Chapter: In which they reach the fortress and learn an old secret.