"Two rooms please," Visenya tells the man working the bar. He's a short, chubby man with beady brown eyes that focus on Visenya too intently. His mousy brown hair is greasy and slicked back in an attempt to hide his bald patches. The man pulls out a heavy book from behind the counter, slamming it on the bar, faintly humming as he thumbs through the pages.
"Looks like we only got one," he says. His eyes peer up at Visenya, a sleazy grin creeping on his face. "However, I'm sure I could arrange for somewhere else...like my room perhaps. Free of charge of course," he says. Visenya's jaw tightens as she rolls her eyes, slamming a few pieces of gold on the counter.
"I'll just take the room, along with some drinks for me and my friend," Visenya said, nodding her head towards Jaskier, who's sitting at a table nervously fumbling with his lute. The man grumbles under his breath while putting away the room ledger, replacing it with an old rusty key. She grabs the key and moves towards Jaskier, taking a seat across from him.
"Oh, there you are! Any luck?" Jaskier said once he noticed Visenya. In response she throws the rusty key on the table. "Just one?" Jaskier asks.
"It was all they had according to the man at the bar," she said. A barmaid approaches their table, two drinks in hand. She sets them on the table and quickly scurries away. As soon as the drinks touch the table, Visenya grabs one of the cups and takes a large sip. As the ale flows down her throat, it leaves behind a slight numbing sensation.
"Well, I'm sure we can make it work -" Jaskier said as he began to ramble on but Visenya's attention is captured by the figure that just entered the inn. Long snow-white hair, bulky stature, and two swords strapped to his back. His eyes dart across the room and land on Visenya and Jaskier. He begins moving in their direction, ordering a drink once he passes the bar.
"Geralt!" Visenya said, pulling Jaskier's attention towards the Witcher as well.
"Oh yes! This is perfect, brilliant even." Jaskier says, his tone bursting with excitement. "Whatever grand quest Geralt is about to complete is going to make a fantastic song!" Jaskier continues, but Visenya's attention is locked on Geralt who is halfway across the room at this point.
"Jaskier, do me a favor." Visenya says.
"Of course, anything my lady," Jaskier responds.
"Shut up," Visenya said as Geralt approaches their table. "If I didn't know any better Geralt of Rivia, I'd think you were following me," she said to Geralt, greeting him with a sly smile, a stark contrast to the frosty glare she had directed at Jaskier a moment ago. Geralt grunts in response, a hint of a smile hidden under his stony facade and pulls out the chair beside Visenya.
"Jaskier." Geralt said, nodding his head towards the bard as he took a seat. Something glinting in the light gains Visenya's attention, her eyes drawn to one of Geralt's swords. Resting on the hilt of it is a familiar broach, with a sword cutting through the middle of it, surrounded in gems.
Renfri's broach.
Her smile falls, her expression turning bleak. She hadn't thought of Renfri since Blaviken. Visenya managed to tuck thoughts of Renfri in the same box she kept all of her memories of Westeros. But seeing the broach that belonged to her, it's like the box was thrown open and it's contents spilled on the ground.
"You kept it," Visenya says, voice barely above a whisper. Geralt looks at the broach then back at Visenya. Neither of them say anything, not that Visenya would trust herself to form a coherent sentence.
"The broach? Should I know about this broach, it seems like a big deal." Jaskier interrupts, pulling Visenya from her reverie.
And just like that the box was locked again, it's contents neatly folded inside.
"It's nothing." Visenya quickly answers with a stiff tone, turning back to her drink and taking an even larger swig than before.
"Well, it doesn't seem like nothing." Jaskier rebuttals. Visenya glowers at the man, a nonverbale cue to make him drop it.
"Leave it Jaskier." Geralt says, voicing Visenya's thoughts.
"Fine, Fine I know a touchy subject when I see it. But how did you two meet anyway? Back during the whole Filavandrel situation you two seemed well acquainted." Jaskier asks, taking another drink of his ale. "You'd think by now this one -" he points over at Visenya, "would tell me but no, I'm not worthy of her tales. Haven't even gotten her last name." Jaskier finishes.
"Blaviken," Visenya answers, managing to make her voice even and strong. "And I do have a last name, you're just not privy to that information," she finishes.
"Truly, Blaviken? Wasn't half the town burnt to a crisp? Were you present when it happened? Do you know what caused the explosion of fire? How could you leave the details of this riveting travesty from me!?" He exclaims, enthralled by the story he was already weaving in his mind.
"No, I wasn't there," was all she replied.
Her eyes glaze over, grip tightening on the mug in her hand. Images of people burning in a building flash before her eyes, their screams echoing in her head. The smell of burning flesh - the stench still lingering in the depths of her mind - causes her stomach to turn. Worst of all the sense of self-satisfaction Visenya can still feel as she watched the people dance in the flames. The immense power she held at that moment and thrill of it.
"I see you took your own advice about hair oils." Geralt says, sensing Visenya's discomfort with the topic. And just like that Visenya is broken from the past and pulled into the present. His eyes are locked on Visenya's hair, braided in an intricate fashion. It's still that same disgusting brown, but not nearly as much of a state as before. A playful smile appears on Visenya's face and she lightly smacks him on his broad shoulder. Not worried about actually hurting the giant of a man.
"Shut up and drink your ale," she says, gesturing towards the drink the barmaid slipped him earlier. "Why are you here anyway?" she asks as he drinks his ale.
"A Nightwraith," he answers, "There's been one lurking nearby."
"Well, I doubt it's in this inn, so why are you here?" Visenya asks.
"Nightwraiths only come out at night, so I'm getting a drink." Geralt said gesturing to his ale.
"And that you might've possibly heard we were here," Jaskier said, forcing himself into the conversation. "A few men in the town were getting too comfortable and Jane set them straight," Visenya levels a glare at Jaskier. The man instantly flushes, beginning to nervously play with his sleeves.
"What are you implying, Jaskier," Visenya asks, a thinly veiled threat laced in her words.
"I'm just saying, this is what… the third time you've run into each other and the two of you seem very familiar with each other" he mutters.
"Jaskier…" Geralt says, utilizing the same tone as Visenya. Although, Visenya doesn't doubt that Geralt's probably already hit the bard before.
"I didn't say a word," Jaskier said. His expression is similar to a cat that got the cream. There's a knowing glint in his eyes as he watches the two of them. Geralt rolls his eyes, while Visenya fidgets with one of her daggers.
Stupid bard.
They idly sit there for a few more minutes. However, once Geralt finishes his drink he stands up to leave.
"Wait Geralt," Visenya said, grabbing onto his arm and causing him to look down at her. "Let me help you fight the wraith."
"No," he said, his tone flat.
"Why not?" Visenya presses, refusing to accept no without a reason.
"It's too dangerous," he simply says, pulling his arm free from her grasp and leaving the inn. Visenya huffs in frustration, taking another drink of her ale.
When was the last time she got to hit something that could give her a real fight?
"You really are something else, Jane," Jaskier said, bringing Visenya's attention back to him. His eyes are intently watching her, lacking the lightheartedness they usually hold. Her smile slowly vanishes, meeting Jaskier's gaze. Not for the first time, Jaskier proves himself more perceptive than most people give him credit for.
"I don't know what you mean," she said, averting her eyes to her hands, tracing the details of the small ring on her finger.
"Don't think I've forgotten about what you said to Filavandrel," he says. Visenya's eyes snap towards Jaskier. She opens her mouth to reply, but Jaskier cuts her off. "But, I won't push it. You'll tell me when you're ready."
Visenya's mouth opens and closes a few times as she tries to form a proper sentence.
" I- Thank you," she finally says. Finishing off the rest of her ale, she grabs the key from the table and stands up, Jaskier mirroring her actions.
Silently, they move across the room towards the stairs to get to the second level.
"So who's getting the bed?" Jaskier asks, a hair too close.
"Me," she said in a deadpan tone, not bothering to look behind her.
"Or we could share…?" Jaskier suggests.
"Or you can sleep outside in the cold."
The soft grass crushes underneath the weight of Visenya's footsteps, leaving behind a trail of her tracks as she quietly moves through the meadow. There's no sun to guide her, the darkness only allowing faint outlines of things to be visible. There's a chill in the air, an ominous feeling creeping up her spine. She's not sure what possesed her to do something this stupid; it could be pride or a need to impress Geralt. Either one will probably get her killed one day.
She'd managed to acquire a general location of the wraith after asking around the town. Most of the townspeople were more than willing to give her information concerning the wraith or point her in the direction of someone who did. It's a few hours past sundown and approximately ten minutes after she saw Geralt exiting the town. Armed with a sword and donning her leather armor, she can't help but feel underprepared.
But she's working with what she's got.
The sound of combat draws Visenya's attention to her right. About 20 feet away from her a spectral figure lets out an ear-piercing shriek. An abnormally long tongue dangling from its mouth, the figure wearing a torn old dress. A shimmering purple barrier surrounds it as it's locked in combat with a figure with white hair, slashing a sword at it.
Geralt.
Without allowing a moment of hesitation, Visenya draws her blade and charges. There's a sliver of fear in the back of her mind that she forces away. She's never fought a wraith - or any monster of any kind. But there's no turning back now. She grabs one of her silver daggers - her first weapon she bought here. She throws it towards the wraith as she closes in, the dagger landing where its heart would've been. Geralt's head whips towards Visenya, the distraction allowing for the wraith to hit him with a nasty blow. Geralt staggers backward, but tosses a vial at the wraith. It explodes on contact and leaves behind a luminous glow in the area. The creature screeches in pain as it rushes towards Geralt.
"What are you doing here Jane?" Geralt said, anger evident in his tone as he dodges an incoming attack.
"Helping you!" she replies. She brings her blade up and slices into the creature. The sword passes through it, leaving the wraith unharmed.
"Your sword won't do anything!" he yells, hitting the wraith with his sword, a line of flames following the swing. "It's steel, only silver kills monsters."
"Well fuck me then!" Visenya said, tossing the sword away from her. She pulls out her second dagger, throwing it at the wraith again. It lands in the center of its forehead, falling to the ground as the shimmering circle around them disappears. The wraith becomes incorporeal again and swipes one of its hands towards Visenya, scratching along her chest. She lets out a scream as the wraith makes contact. It's an odd sensation. The wound doesn't physically hurt, instead it feels like a part of her life is being drained. Visenya staggers backward and attempts to gain her footing. However, before she has a chance to recover, it swipes at her again with its other hand. With another cry of pain, Visenya falls backward.
The wraith glides towards her, it's scream making her ears bleed. She attempts to stand but doesn't have the strength due to her wounds. The wraith is a hair away from Visenya when on instinct she throws her arm up, an attempt to shield her body from the creature. She yells as a flash of fire follows her movements, the brunt of it hitting the wraith. The wraith recoils and shrieks once again. Before it can continue its advance towards Visenya, a sword pierced through it. With a final scream, the wraith disappears, leaving a sticky substance behind in its place.
Geralt, who looks less damaged than Visenya, is standing above her with a hand outstretched. She accepts his hand, letting him help pull her up. He slings her arm over his shoulder and the two of them begin the trek back to town. On their way past it, Geralt bends down to grab her sword from the ground.
The walk back to the inn was completely silent. Geralt said nothing and Visenya didn't know what to say. It isn't until they're in Geralt's room in the inn that he says anything, or even looks at her.
"You shouldn't have come." Geralt said barely able to disguise how angry he was. He grabs a medicine kit from his pack and walks over to Visenya, a poultice in one hand and bandages in the other. "Take off your shirt."
"But I did," she said as she took off her leather tunic, leaving on her breast band. Her vision is slightly fuzzy around the edges, but much clearer than it had been in the field.
"Yeah and you almost got killed!" he said, aggressively cleaning the scrapes across her body. She hisses in pain at the contact but does nothing to stop him. She watches his eyes, a storm brewing in them. His mouth is pulled in a tight line with his jaw tightly clenched. His hands held the rag so tightly she could see his veins popping out on his arm.
"Wouldn't be the first time," she said before she could stop herself. Geralt pauses his actions for a moment, his eyes locking with Visenya's. "But that's another story." she finishes, her tone softer than it had been previously.
They maintain eye contact for a moment, the only sounds in the room being their breathing and the fire crackling in the corner. Geralt breaks it first, returning to cleaning her wounds. Visenya stares at the wall ahead of her, lost in her own thoughts. A sigh escapes her mouth.
"I'm sorry," Visenya nervously said, biting her bottom lip. "I shouldn't have come, I don't know anything about monsters and charged headfirst into a fight without a proper weapon." A chuckle escapes her throat. Geralt grabs the poultice and begins placing it onto her wounds.
"I've noticed you don't think too much before acting," he said, his tone lighter than the anger it held before. Her apology seemingly calms his rage. Visenya snorts, remembering all the times she'd been scolded for her hot-headedness by the Starks - mainly Catelyn and on occasion Jon too.
"So I've been told," she said. Geralt begins applying the bandages over her wounds to keep them from getting worse. He doesn't say anything else, but Visenya can hear the questions swirling in his mind.
"Go on. Ask away all the questions I know you have." Visenya said. Geralt pauses his actions but continues nonetheless.
"I do have questions, but I know if you wanted me to know the answers, you'd tell me." Geralt replies. He finishes dressing her wounds and steps away from her. He begins gathering the remaining supplies and places them back into his pack.
"Do you miss her?" Visenya asks, intently watching Geralt. He doesn't pause his actions, but he does throw her a quick glance. "I mean, you still have her broach. She must've meant something." Visenya ponders aloud. Geralt throws his pack across the room onto a chair. He quickly removes his leather jerkin, expertly undoing on the ties and clasps that keep it in place. He's left wearing a simple tunic and his sturdy leather pants. He then sits beside Visenya on the bed.
"I will admit, she had an impact on me." Geralt said, handing her a water skin. She takes a large drink from it, the cool water refreshing against her dry throat. Visenya passes the water back to him, wiping at her mouth.
"I feel like every time I close my eyes to sleep she's there. A faint whisper in my dreams that never leaves." Visenya said, her voice barely above a whisper. Geralt doesn't reply but continues to watch her, his expression is unreadable.
"I was gonna leave with her, did ya know?" Visenya said, softly laughing after, tracing the grain in the floorboards. "We were going to take the world by storm, no one safe from our chaos."
"I'm sorry." Geralt said.
"Don't be, she was determined to burn down the world. Nothing we could've done" Visenya swiftly replies. Her need to destroy those who've wronged her led to her downfall, a moral point of no return. It reminds Visenya how fickle someone's state of sanity is. One wrong move and everything snaps.
That could've been Visenya if not for the Starks.
It could still be her, if she's not careful.
"How long did you know her?" Geralt asks.
"Not much longer than you," Visenya said, snorting obnoxiously. "It seems stupid, being so torn up about the death of someone you've only known for two days."
"People have done stupider." Geralt replies. Apprehensively he puts a hand on Visenya's shoulder as an attempt to comfort her. She accepts it and leans against his touch. Forming a small smile on her face, she looks up at him.
"Like charge into a fight against a wraith unprepared." she quips.
"Some might say that," he said. He moves his hand so his arm is wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side.
"Would it surprise you to know I've done far stupider?" Visenya asks, her eyes shifting to his wolf medallion, tracing and retracing it.
"Would you be offended if I say I'm not." Geralt said. She can feel his gaze on her, so intense it might burn a hole through her.
"I can't be offended about anything after the stunt I just pulled," Visenya said. She pulls a centimeter away from Geralt, sitting up to be eye level with him.
Easier said than done, considering how tall he is.
She rests her hands on top of his shoulders, attempting to balance herself. His eyes follow her every move but he does nothing to stop her. Her eyes trace his face, taking the moment to memorize each curve and scar. His face is angular and sharp, faint white lines dancing across his face. His lips - soft and full a stark contrast to the sharpness on the rest of his face. From the moment she met him, Visenya knew that Geralt was attractive. But being this close to him, with his eyes looking at her like they are, now she knows how attractive he is.
"Everyone always told me I was too impulsive," Visenya said, leaning her weight against Geralt as she swings one of her legs around him, straddling his lap.
"Hmm. And where would they get that idea?" Geralt replies, moving his arms to coil around her waist like a snake tightening around its prey.
"I have no idea," Visenya says, moving her face closer to Geralt's. He doesn't move towards her, but he doesn't move away either. His grip around her does tighten, however. She continues until their faces are a centimeter apart. They're so close she can feel his breathing fanning on her face as her eyelashes delicately tickle against his skin. Her heartbeat speeds up as her nerves catch up. The two of them continue to stare at each other, daring the other person to make a move. Her eyes search his - unsure of what she's looking for, but searching none-the-less.
There's a little distance between them.
Until there isn't.
Geralt closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against her. It's all teeth and tongue when they meet, desperation clawing at both of them. His lips are slightly chapped from the biting wind outside, but still so soft.
Softer than they should be allowed to be.
Her hands move from his shoulder and weave themselves into his hair, lightly tugging as she does. He pulls her closer to his body, the heat radiating from Visenya warmer than any fire. The adrenaline that had been pumping through her from the fight with wraith returns tenfold. Except in a different way. Visenya can feel herself getting addicted to the sensation of his lips, desperately craving more and chasing his mouth during those few seconds they pull away for air..
She begins to grind against him in the same rhythm of her ragged breathing, desperate for some sort of friction. His hands that were wrapped around her waist slide down until he's gripping both sides of her hips. He starts to guide her movements, causing her to grind against his growing erection. The sensation elicits soft moans from Visenya that are swallowed in Geralt's mouth, the friction she desperately craved being fulfilled. Geralt breaks from the kiss first but swiftly moves his mouth to her neck, leaving marks wherever his teeth touch. Visenya gasps at the feeling, tugging on his hair harder than before. Geralt growls as a reaction but continues his assault. A warm feeling inside her continues to grow the longer they stay like this until it's nearly unbearable. One of her hands untangles itself from his hair, moving to grip his chin.
She forces his head away from her neck to face her head-on. A predatory grin forms on Visenya's face, the control she holds over him in the moment exhilarating. Usually, Geralt maintains control of a situation, both in combat and in conversation he's holding the reins. But in this moment, with his eyes practically begging for her to do something - anything as he tightens his grip on her hips, he's as helpless as the damsels in Sansa's stories. His amber eyes appear nearly feral, wild and blow out. His hair is a tangled mess from where Visenya brushed her hands through it. His lips are bruised and swollen, evidence of what just happened between them.
She continues to grind against him while maintaining her grip on his chin. A series of low grunts escapes his mouth, the sound spurring Visenya on. She quickens her pace and with her hand still in Geralt's hair, she pulls harder and forces his head upwards to expose his thick neck. His jaw is clenched, causing some veins in his neck to pop out. She leans her face forward, burying her face in his neck. She begins leaving trails of phantom kisses leading up to his jawline. She begins to nibble at his jaw, slowly moving towards his lips. She moves her hands onto the tops of his shoulders, leaning most of her weight against him. Geralt leans forward, attempting to connect their lips, but Visenya pulls back. Far enough that he doesn't reach her, but still close enough that her breath tickles his lips. A low grunt of annoyance leaves his mouth, but he does nothing else.
"Nuh uh uh. Not yet," she tells him, giving him a grin that shows all his teeth. "You've gotta earn it." His grip on her hips is so tight, Visenya's sure it's gonna leave marks. His movements become jerkier and rougher as he guides her hips against his crotch. A pit grows in Visenya's stomach as she grinds harder against him. A slew of curses leave Geralt's mouth, but he maintains eye contact with Visenya like he's entranced.
"Fuck Geralt. There you go, that's right." Visenya moans, closing her eyes and fully enjoying the sensations. "If it's this good when you've got your clothes on, I can only imagine when you're not." she said, fluidly moving with the pace he set.
"Why don't you find out," he grunts out, his breathing unsteady. Visenya simply laughs at him, opening her eyes and leaning into him.
"Not yet, this is only the third time we've met. A girl has to maintain some proprietary," She presses her lips against his, slipping her tongue in his mouth. Before he has a chance to react she pulls away.
"You're a fucking tease," Geralt said, attempting to chase her mouth.
"The door's over there, I'm sure there's a nearby brothel that could help you out." Visenya said. However, before Geralt gets a chance to respond, she digs her fingers into his shoulders. She rubs against him with rigid backward and forward motions, chasing the high that she instinctively knows is so close. She clenches her legs tighter against him as a tingle fills her body, starting from her head down to her toes. Almost simultaneously, a throaty groan leaves Geralt's mouth and he presses his face into the crook of her neck. The two of them slow their movements until neither of them are moving.
They stay like that for a while, neither of them saying a word. Visenya eventually manages to catch her breath and steady her heart. The adrenaline previously pumping through her diminishes as she gains control of her brain.
"Stay." Geralt asks - no demands. His eyes meet hers with the same intensity his gaze always holds, but something softer is mingled with it.
"Jaskier will know if I don't come back to the room." Visenya reminds him. "And I really don't want to deal with that."
"To hell with the bard." Geralt said, tightening his grip around Visenya and pulling her closer.
"You said it, not me." Visenya quips, leaning forward to meet Geralt's lips again.