~ Your Dreams Are Now Turning the Wheel of the Stars ~

Geralt paces in his room at the inn, avoiding looking at his reflection in the small mirror, anxiously awaiting the moment the flower crown will wilt and fall from his head.

Half a day has passed since Yennefer left.

It's midnight. He can't sleep and doesn't even want to try.

The witcher's medallion vibrates a split second before a portal opens in front of him. Yennefer steps out of it, into his arms. Geralt freezes at first, but then melts into the embrace - wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, and breathing in her scent.

"You didn't... break our soulmate bond?"

"No. I hashed things out with Melitele, and decided I'm willing to give us a chance."

"You spoke to the goddess directly?"

"We had quite a long conversation, actually."

Triss had heard rumors of a spell to find your soulmate. What she didn't realize was that it was a ritual - a prayer to Melitele, a desperate cry to the goddess to help her find the one who would love her.

She dreams of a stone tower, halls filled with a crowd of girls who are all wearing the same thing but their faces are blurry and indistinct. She doesn't see who exactly her soulmate is in the dream, only the place where they are destined to meet.

Her first real magic is something else, something that causes her to be swept away to the sorceress's academy by a sour-faced matron.

A flash of gold catches her eye in the hallway, and Triss freezes in her tracks to stare at an older girl with long blonde hair who is laughing with her friends. The laughter turns into shocked murmurs as a crown of flowers weaves itself between those golden locks - rhododendron and sweet pea.

The teacher turns to scold her newest student for stopping, and sighs when she sees Triss rushing to embrace her newly-discovered soulmate.

Sabrina grins and welcomes the younger girl with open arms.

"What happened to your first soulmate?" Yennefer asks.

Geralt closes his eyes before answering. He knew this subject would come up eventually. He's never discussed it with anyone, not even Vesemir.

"I killed her."

"You mean... you weren't able to save her, or that some action you took - or didn't take - somehow led to her death?"

He could probably just lie, nod or grunt and let her believe that he's being too hard on himself over his involvement in whatever caused his first soulmate's death, but...

"No, Yen. I killed her with my own hands."

Yennefer doesn't say anything, just leans against his side and takes his hand in both of hers.

The lack of pressure is, ironically, what encourages him to continue.

"There was a conflict I didn't want to get involved in," he says. "A human conflict, not a witcher's business. I tried to convince her to run away with me. I thought I had convinced her. But she couldn't give up on her revenge. I got pulled into the crossfire and ended up on the wrong side of her blade, and..." He trails off.

Geralt leans into Yennefer's touch, allowing her to comfort him.

The wolves and their soulmates are all gathered at Kaer Morhen, for the first time since Yennefer and Geralt decided to stay together. Lambert is the only one left who hasn't found his soulmate yet.

"There's a contract I'm thinking about taking," Lambert says. "It's a lucrative contract, but it's in Nilfgaard. No other witcher has taken it because it's in Nilfgaard proper, not a territory they gained through conquest."

"The endrega nest?" Vesemir asks.

"Yeah, that one."

Vesemir lets out a low whistle. "Sure you want to take that one?"

"At this point I kind of feel like I have to."

After a moment's pause (during which many meaningful glances are exchanged), Tissaia puts forth, "By any chance, did you... burn a rose's petals over a candle, scatter their ashes on your nightstand, sleep with the rose stem under your pillow, and dream of taking the contract in Nilfgaard?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Then you should go."

"That was an... oddly specific guess," Eskel says, looking at Tissaia with open curiosity.

Yennefer lets out a humorless laugh before explaining, "It's a spell to find out where you'll meet your soulmate. Of course she knows of it; she runs a school full of teenage girls."

"I did cast it myself once," Tissaia says. "And it's not a method I'd recommend."

"Why?" Lambert asks, leaning forward. "What happened when you met your soulmate at the place you dreamed of?"

She leans against Vesemir's shoulder as she replies with a wry smile, "He tried to pretend he hadn't even noticed me and was calculating in his head how quickly he could make it back to his horse."

Lambert briefly wondered if she was talking about someone else, some previous soulmate she'd had before, because surely Vesemir wouldn't have acted like that. This illusion is shattered a split second later.

"You were reading my mind?" Vesemir inquires, and it's clear from his tone that he'd never considered the possibility before.

"Yes," Tissaia answers shamelessly. "Although I didn't delve further than that."

"Your hair is a mess," Philippa says without preamble.

Her soulmate pins her with a dark look.

"I know, but it's hard to get it under control with this thing," Rita snaps, indicating the flowers wreathing her head - freesia and yellow tulips - with a sharp, angry gesture.

Philippa quirks an eyebrow and replies calmly, "Just pull the comb through it."

When Rita does nothing but continue to glare in her direction, Philippa sighs and crosses the room to pick up the wide-toothed comb from the vanity table herself.

"The flower crown is a metaphysical object," she explains, moving to stand behind Rita. "You can just pull the comb through it."

She demonstrates, showing her that solid objects will pass through the flower crown as if it were not there, and soon tames her soulmate's unruly curls.

Once she is finished, Rita takes the comb and tests it herself.

"But it feels solid when I touch it," she says, frowning as she fingers the petals of her crown.

"It's a metaphysical object."

"Well, excuse me for not understanding under what circumstances exactly it will act like a physical object and in which ones it won't!"

"Someone's cranky this morning," Philippa teases, leaning down to press a kiss to her soulmate's bare shoulder.

~end~