In Dreams
By Pyreite
Chapter 6: Awakening
Warning: This chapter contains implied sexual content without citrus. Discretion is advised.
She awoke a few days later, groggy and disoriented. She peered around the room, eyes bleary until a shadow blocked out the light. She tensed like a drawn bowstring, fingers scrabbling for the blade at her hip. She panicked when her fingers touched neither leather nor wood but warm soft fabric. She ripped the blanket back, patting her chest till her vision cleared.
She wore a pale linen shirt, soft as silk yet light as a feather. It was too large for her wiry frame, the collar hanging off a bare brown shoulder. She clasped it tight to her bosom, thinking the worst when she didn't feel the reassuring weight of her armour. The leather cuirass, skirt, boots, greaves, poleyns, pauldrons and gauntlets were gone. She was clad in a thin black breastband and knickers.
"Fenedhis", she cursed, glaring at the bed's other occupant.
She slid away from him, pulling the blanket up to cover herself. It was a flimsy barrier, little better than something to hide behind for a handful of awkward moments. Her spectator sat there, regarding her with the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. He was pale and handsome with an angular face and sharp aristocratic features. He had to be nobility, his skin smooth and unblemished as if his face were cast in marble.
Noblemen didn't fight wars, mercenaries did for the right price.
Her lip curled when he continued to stare, his brows arching when she scowled.
He blinked in surprise when she didn't recognise him. He looked unsure of himself then, face blanching with raw despair. He looked away, head turning as he glanced at the rumpled sheets. His shoulders slumped as he rearranged his long legs, giving her some much needed privacy. He was soon sniffling as the tears slipped down his cheeks.
His chest heaved, shoulders shaking as his breath came in fits and starts.
Ellana wondered what she'd done to cause him such distress. Was he her husband? She didn't recall getting married. A look at her left-hand revealed the lack of a ring signifying a marital bond. She wiggled her fingers, uncaring that her hand was a transparent bottle-green.
A band of scar-tissue the width of her thumb coiled an inch below her elbow.
That was where Solas had severed her forearm with magic. She'd never forgotten the burning pain that'd cauterised the wound. She shuddered, grasping her wrist. The sudden movement catching the attention of her unexpected guest. He peered at her through a veil of wet lashes, his cheeks slick and shining. His eyes were moist, red and glistening like wet aquamarines.
He looked miserable as if she'd awoken to find a stranger instead of a lover at her bedside.
"Elaine", he called, voice soft and full of desperation. "Do you truly not remember me?"
She gaped at him in wide-eyed bewilderment. He knew her birth-name before her father had changed it to the Dalish equivalent. The way this man said it was different to how Lerel Lavellan had enunciated the vowels and syllables. There was a strangeness in the way he pronounced it. It wasn't Dalish elvish or the lyrical dialect Solas had translated from ancient elven ruins.
It was foreign and unfamiliar than what she was used to hearing.
Ellana thought he looked strange for an elf too. His eyes were smaller, his frame broader and his pointed ears less prominent than her own. His features were sharper, harder and more refined than those of a Thedosian elf. He reminded her of Solas, although there was a noticeable lack of arrogance. He neither sneered at her in contempt nor looked down his nose at her in disdain.
When his gaze lingered, her skin didn't crawl with apprehension.
It was odd to feel wary, but not afraid as if she knew him. If he was a stranger than why did she sense that he wasn't? If he knew her birth-name than he was someone of significance in her life. The elves of her clan and her closest friends had known her as Ellana. Only poor heartbroken Lerel had known the name her mother had given her.
Had she missed something important?
With a sense of trepidation she offered the stranger her bare right-hand. His lashes fluttered as his mouth trembled. The raw hope upon his face made her guts twist on the inside. He reached back, offering a slender hand with long pale fingers. She saw callouses from writing with a quill between his index and forefinger. The thick pad of skin bending the tip of his nail to the right as if he were an avid scholar.
She wondered if he'd spent his life with his nose sandwiched between the pages of a book.
He was fair enough not to have spent endless summers in the sun. He wasn't a swarthy Antivan, bronzed by the desert heat. Nor was he a resident of Nevarra, Orlais or Fereldan. When he'd spoken to her, his voice had lacked that thick Nevarran drawl. He hadn't had that nasally Orlesian twang or that brusque Fereldan growl either.
He dressed better than a Thedosian elf could afford in glistening white and grey.
The fine linen of his shirt matched the one she wore. A fact that made Ellana uneasy, though she reined in the impulse to knife him. He hadn't given her reason to suspect foul-play if she still wore her breastband and knickers. There was an absence of bruises on her skin and soreness between her thighs. So he hadn't taken advantage whilst she'd slept in a bed that belonged to him.
But she was still wary.
It was obvious that he wasn't Thedosian. His features were too aristocratic, his lack of an identifiable accent alien. She should've been afraid when she touched the tips of his fingers. The barest caress was enough to unleash a flood of memories. It all came back in flashes of insight, a rush of noise and a whirlwind of colour.
A plate full of sliced ham, wedges of cheese and slabs of buttered bread. An obsidian statuette of a wolf with flecks of ruby for eyes. A signet ring of glittering platinum with a flower emblazoned on the bezel. A tentative kiss that tasted of frost and fire. A wooden door banded with iron that led to a meadow filled with fragrant wildflowers.
She doubled over nose to kneecap gasping as her chest heaved.
"Elaine!"
She flinched when he touched her shoulder, pale fingers sliding over bare skin. He snatched his hand back when she lifted her head. He tried to rise to his feet, the bed-frame creaking as the mattress shifted. He got an inch, then two when she lunged for him. He froze when she caught his fingers, her eyes fixed upon his face.
"Elaine?"
He watched her anxious and uncertain till she rolled forward like a wave. The blanket churned like froth in her wake, its soft brocade edges falling into his lap. She climbed over him, bare brown legs tangling in his sheets. She was astride his thighs, sinking down until he had a lapful of a teary-eyed Dalish elf. Her arms slid around his shoulders, her face pressing into the curve of his throat.
"Avallac'h", she whispered, bringing a surge of relief to them both.
He returned her embrace unafraid. The sound of his name on her lips as reassuring as the warm weight of her in his arms. She was real enough to set his heart racing, the thrill of acceptance heady and exciting. The beat of their reunion changed the instant she pressed her nose into his cheek. She inhaled like a wolf, her nostrils flaring as if she were committing his scent to memory.
"Elaine", he groaned when she nipped his ear lobe. "N'te".
She stilled out of respect for him, grumbling in frustration. "Maker's arse. I thought you wanted me. I read that wrong".
Avallac'h huffed, burying his face in her clavicle.
It was a convenient way to hide the flush creeping down his neck. Especially when a flustered dh'oine stood near the bedroom's open doorway. She was ashen-haired, green-eyed and dressed in white, black and brown. Her outfit a mishmash of leather, steel, linen and velvet. She scratched a scarred cheek, aware of what she'd interrupted.
"Um. Hello".
Ellana gawked at her like a fool. "Zireael?"
"I-er-came to check on Avallac'h. But since you're awake now, I'll come back later".
She managed a friendly wave, cringing as she shuffled backwards like a crab. The door closed before Ellana could respond, the rapid thud of her heels ringing in the hall outside. She'd run away, at speed by the sound of her retreat. Ellana heard excited chattering, though she couldn't make out what was said.
Zireael had company out there.
"Vashedan!" she cursed, assuming the worst. She dug her nails into Avallac'h's scalp hard enough to hurt. He squeezed her ribs until she relented, sighing in relief though he didn't raise his head. He was content to hide his face in her bosom. "You promised not to tell anyone that I was here!"
His reply was muffled. "I didn't tell her anything. She came to my laboratory on her own".
That got her attention. "What?"
"I told her to find me if she ever needed my help", he declared, pressing his nose into her breastband. He nuzzled her cleavage as if he were trying to find something stuck in there. "She has had troubling dreams of late. When those dreams persisted, her guardians urged her to seek me out. She arrived four days ago within an hour of you manifesting outside the Fade".
Ellana glowered at the vaulted ceiling of his bedroom. "Wonderful".
"Ciri sensed you were here".
"Of course she did. It's that damned Elder Blood nonsense. I knew that I wouldn't be able to hide from her forever. That girl has an uncanny sensitivity to the ebb and flow of magical energies. I knew she'd track me down, sooner or later".
"We have a lot of explaining to do".
She rolled her eyes, bronzed fingers combing through Avallac'h's hair in apology. "You mean that I'll have to do the explaining. I was hoping to avoid meeting her at all. But Lara was right when she said that blood calls to blood".
Avallac'h lifted his head from her bosom, feeling less guilty now that Ciri's introduction was over. "What?"
"It's the Hen Ichaer. I could hide in the Fade, but out here I'm exposed. If like calls to like than Zireael knows who I am. No doubt thanks to Lara meddling in her dreams. Even dead my sister's a right pain in my arse".
"She wanted you to meet Ciri".
"She demanded it. She didn't ask. You know what Lara was like. Opinionated, direct and with the weight of a crown behind her. She was used to giving orders and expecting them to be executed with immediacy".
For the first time in centuries, speaking of Lara Dorren didn't fill Avallac'h with grief. He felt lighter as if Ellana had lifted that burden from him. It was odd not to be weighed down with a lifetime's worth of regret. He wasn't angry with his former paramour, her lover or the child they'd conceived. He was at ease now that he was where he was meant to be.
In the arms of Shiadhal's lastborn and heir.
"Lara was the princess of the Aen Elle. Her word was law in Tir ná Lia until the day she left the city. Her people's faith was shattered when she took Cregennan to bed. The child she bore him an aberration that her father was unwilling to save. She died because Auberon refused to leave Tir ná Lia with a contingent of the Red Riders to bring her home".
"I know", said Ellana. "I'll have to explain that and more to Ciri. Fenedhis. I wish I didn't have too. That girl has been through enough already".
Although Avallac'h was worried, he had faith in her. "Lara can't help her now, but if you can. Shouldn't you?"
She shook her head, grimacing. "The last person that followed me. Died. It's best that she doesn't get involved in my life. Although I doubt she'll accept my excuses".
"Elaine. Ciri is your niece".
"Her relation to me by blood has been diluted forty-fold. There's a sliver of an elf left in her".
Avallac'h was unimpressed by her logic. "Ciri is the Lady of Space and Time. Despite her age, training and abilities. She still cannot control her powers. If Yennefer and I couldn't teach her how to utilise her magic in safety than you must".
Ellana pouted. "Why does it have to be me?"
"As a child of the Elder Blood, she is a danger to everyone including herself. You are the only living relative she has left in this world. Ciri could tear the fabric of Space and Time apart with a thought. She needs the love, guidance and protection of someone that'll never be afraid of her. Geralt and Yennefer gave her the first three, but not the last".
"Avallac'h".
"They know what she's capable of, Elaine. They saw what happened when Ciri lost control of her magic. She shook the Keep of Kaer Morhen down to its foundations. I was there. I know how powerful she is".
She capitulated with a sigh, recalling what she'd gleaned from the Fade. "I'll consider it, ma lath. But I make no promises".
"What did you call me?" he asked in astonishment. "That language isn't Hen Llinge".
"It's my people's version of elvish. It means – My love – in this world's common-tongue. Which for some odd reason I can now speak and understand. You must've given me something of yourself when you touched me. A memory of the languages you know maybe?" She paused when he gaped at her in stunned disbelief. "What?"
Avallac'h repeated her words, heart in his mouth. "My love?"
Ellana's brows furrowed in concern. "Was I too forward?"
He smiled as his eyes turned watery. "No. It's something I wanted to hear from Lara, but she was never mine. If I am yours than I don't mind hearing it from you".
"Oh, good. But if I'm making you uncomfortable. I can stop".
"N'te!"
She snickered. "All right then".
"En'ca minne", called Avallac'h as he held out a burgundy towel. "You can't stay in that tub all day. I know you'd rather avoid meeting Ciri, but she's in the next room waiting for us. She won't leave while she knows you're here. Even if you do intend to sit there till you turn into a prune".
"You could tell her to go away", suggested Ellana. "She likes you. I'm sure she'd listen if you asked her too".
He rolled his eyes. They'd been debating this for an hour. "She's your niece. I'm not foolish enough to stand in her way. She has a sword, she knows how to use it and she never hesitates to solve her problems with force if she has too".
"A girl after my own heart. I like her already".
"Elaine", he implored. "Cáemm a me. You have dallied long enough".
"Fine", she grumbled, lifting her head out of the tepid bath. Wet hair clung to her face and neck in silver-white strands. "But no peeking. If I haven't seen you naked than you don't get to see me naked. At least not until we sort this mess out".
Avallac'h neglected to close his eyes when she rose, water streaming from slick bronze skin.
The wet tendrils of her hair covered her breasts like a blanket. The long silver tail of it falling across her thighs. He still saw the width of her bare shoulders, the slender length of her neck. The outline of her ribs and the dips and curves of her hips. He saw the scars too. Some long and short, while others were thick and thin.
In places her skin was rough, smooth or puckered by deep uneven gashes.
Claw marks, he guessed from a cluster of four across her right shoulder. There were burns on her left-hip where the skin had sloughed off like the shell from a boiled egg. She had deep nicks across her stomach and curved furrows on her right-thigh from a hooked blade. Although each wound had healed, it hurt him to realise that she'd lived like a witcher. Each scar a mark of survival in a world where her life had been imperilled.
He was quiet when she stepped over the tub's metal rim.
The transparent shell of her left-hand glowing ghoulish green in the candlelight. He saw pale bones, dark veins and half-moon nails on the tips of her fingers. The band of scar tissue near her elbow all that remained of the cauterised wound. It was ugly enough to make him angry, though he kept his thoughts to himself. The outrage showed upon his face when she planted her feet on his rumpled shirt.
Cast on the floor it soaked up the water trickling from her hair and skin.
"Don't fuss", said Ellana.
Avallac'h draped the towel about her shoulders then let go. Slender brown fingers fisted the soft linen, drawing it tight when he turned away. She wondered what he thought whilst he walked across the room. He returned to the newly made bed, sinking down onto it with his back to her. He respected her wishes, never once looking over his shoulder.
"I'm not".
"Liar", she retorted, drying herself off. "You were scowling when you saw my scars".
He sighed, shoulders slumping. It was perturbing that she could read him like a book. They'd only known each other for a few days. Most of those spent in the Fade, but now she was here inside his bedroom. A living, breathing being not a wistful fantasy concocted by his unconscious mind.
It was wonderful, discomforting and terrifying to have her but feet away.
"It wasn't the scars, Elaine".
"So it was my hand. It's an old injury".
Avallac'h hated how she brushed it off. It'd pained him to see the scar around her elbow, it'd been worse to realise that her phantom limb was a magical construct. A prosthesis created out of magic stabilised and anchored to her flesh to replace what she'd lost. From the tiniest bones in her fingers to the thinnest veins, it was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Such magic was centuries ahead of anything imagined by the Aen Elle.
That didn't make it any easier to stomach.
"Your left-hand was severed from your body", he growled, teeth gritting. "Then someone replaced that hand with a magical prosthetic. A daughter of the Elder Blood maimed by an unknown assailant then healed as if the loss meant nothing. I don't know if I should be outraged on your behalf or envious that you are whole again. That kind of magic is so alien to me that I don't recognise the half of you that is Aen Elle".
There was a uncomfortable pause in their conversation. The steady swish of rustling fabric, the flick and shake of hair being towelled dry. Ellana said nothing for some time, letting Avallac'h stew in his own frustration. She supposed it was her fault for leaping on him like a flea. She'd turned his life upside down in a week without giving him time to adjust.
Now he was confused, afraid and feeling overwhelmed.
Barely able to keep his head above water.
She contemplated how to answer while donning the clothes he'd laid out. It took a snap of her fingers to turn the breastband and knickers from black to red. She kept the fine silk, curious as she pulled it on. She was smiling as she tested the durability, lifting a leg high till she was standing on the tips of her toes. Her head turned the instant she heard a startled gasp.
Avallac'h was watching her, his face flushed red. "What are you doing?"
"Stretching".
"With the heel of your foot above your head?"
"That is how it's usually done. Since I haven't had a body for years now. I thought it was best to test how limber I am. I could use your help if you don't mind. I'm feeling a little stiff".
He bounced across the bed like a rabbit, his enthusiasm plain when he landed on his feet. He darted across the room, almost slipping on the towel she'd left on the floor. She caught his wrist before he could fall, pulling him in till they were nose-to-nose. He steadied himself, blushing to the tips of his pointed ears when she laid her calf across his shoulder. She used him like a prop, stretching first one leg then the other while he stood still as a statue.
"Elaine".
"Yes?"
Avallac'h tried to keep his eyes on her face, but it was hard when she was clad in her underwear. "Are you doing this to tease me?"
"Of course".
He pouted. "That's unfair".
She laughed, lifting her arms above her head. Her back arching like a cat. "Should I stop?"
"N'te".
"Ma nuvenin, ma lath".
"What does that mean?"
"As you wish, my love".
"Oh", he declared with pleasure. "Carry on then".
Ellana struggled to pull up her breeches. She fumbled with the laces when Avallac'h proved less than helpful. He was trying to climb back inside her clothes, his hands sliding across her hips to cup her bottom. He dragged her back down amidst the rumpled sheets and blankets, eager to continue. He quietened her protests with fervent kisses, while plucking at her breastband.
"Ma lath", she reproved when she was able to draw a breath. "We have guests".
"They'll keep", gasped Avallac'h. "I have waited centuries for you. Now I find myself growing impatient".
"Eager to stake your claim?"
He gazed at her, aquamarine-eyes dark and full of heat. His blonde hair tousled, his shirt at half-mast revealing a bare midriff. He was thinner than she liked, his frame wiry and boyish with a distinct lack of muscle. Yet she couldn't deny the depth of his desire, the passionate burn hot enough to set her aflame. It was thrilling to be wanted with her multitude of imperfections.
"I will stop now if this isn't what you want".
The uncertainty flickered in his eyes like a candle-flame. He was afraid of her rejection, certain that she'd turn him away as Lara had. One word would douse his ardour faster than a bucket of iced water. Ellana arched an eyebrow, lips pursing as she hooked her fingers into his waistband. What'd started with a single kiss had turned into sensual exploration.
She didn't want it to end so soon.
"N'te", she replied, using an expression he would understand. "I've been alone for far too long. I'd like to change that if you'll have me. Every dragoness needs a drake. Will you be mine?"
His relief was palpable when his fingers sank into her hair. He pressed his brow to hers, eyes closing when she kissed him. A gentle nip caused pain as her form shifted, the glamour giving way. Avallac'h didn't care when the pupils of her eyes lengthened, or the canine teeth inside her mouth sharpened. He'd seen her true form already, his fingers curling round the base of a draconic horn.
He held tight, forcing her head back when she tried to bite him.
"N'te", he warned, panting when she laughed. "That would be most unfair if you took a chunk out of me. If you do I reserve the right to retaliate in kind. So beware, en'ca minne. I have teeth too".
The draconic rumble of her amusement started in the pit of her belly. It vibrated in her ribcage then in the hollow of her throat. She grinned at him with a flash of white fangs, lips peeling back to reveal a jagged smile. Even half-naked with her breastband loosened and her breeches half-open. She was a force to be reckoned with, though she didn't try to break his hold.
She enjoyed his attention like a serpent basking in the sun.
"Forgive me", she purred, clawed fingers stroking his hip. "You smell delectable enough to eat. I promise to be gentle, taking my cues from you. We'll take this as fast and slow as you like. I'm not exactly what most men would desire after shedding my elven guise".
Avallac'h frowned, upset when she peered at him from under her lashes. "You think I care about your looks?"
"Shouldn't I? I'm a half-breed mongrel like Lara's daughter. You said that you didn't know which half of me was Aen Elle. I assure you, ma lath. It isn't this half".
He swallowed the bitter pill of his own pride. The words he'd used parroted back at him, heavy with veiled accusation. It took him moments to realise that she was testing his mettle. The way her cat-slitted eyes narrowed, the line of her jaw tensing. She suspected that he would cast her off as if she were nothing.
"N'te!" he hissed, taking offence. "I see the part of you that is Aen Elle! Only a woman of my people would dare question my honour while she lay in my bed! I am not some shallow-hearted knave intent on using you for a single night's pleasure! We will share a lifetime together or nothing at all!"
Ellana snorted. "Think you can keep up with me then?"
He glared at her, temper flaring when she arched a silver brow in challenge. "We'll soon find out. Won't we, en'ca minne?"
She laid back amidst his pillows, smirking as if he were a fool. "If you've the strength. Come prove it, ma lath. It's been years since a man was brave enough to get under my scales. Will that man be you?"
"Shrew!" he admonished while tearing off her breastband. "I will have you writhing beneath me!"
"You're more than welcome to try".
He silenced her with a kiss, his fingers loosening the last ties of her breeches.
Hours passed in a haze of pleasure punctuated by the sound of a headboard rapping on stone. The rhythm steady and repetitive enough to make Ciri blush. She was next door, seated at Avallac'h's table with her foster parents. Both exchanging knowing looks, though only Geralt voiced their shared frustration. They'd been waiting for Avallac'h and his beloved since mid-morning.
"That's the fifth time in four hours. You'd think they'd never had sex before".
Ciri sank lower in her seat, feeling resentful. She grimaced while flicking the wolf statuette on the table with her fingers. She didn't like sitting there, having to listen to her former tutor sleep with someone she didn't know. It was even worse that she felt some strange kinship with his current bedmate. She was starting to dislike her with an obnoxious sense of self-entitlement.
It was as if this stranger had stolen Avallac'h out from under her nose.
The haughty self-centred bitch.
"I hate her", she stated, certain of her opinion. "Who does she think she is? Coming here and taking over his laboratory as if she owns it. He was my tutor first not hers. How can she waltz into his life and turn everything upside down with no regard for him?"
Geralt shared another look with Yen, nodding to their mutual stepchild. He was worried by the nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. A toss of her black mane was enough to tell him that she didn't care about Avallac'h's love-life. He could shag a bear and get himself torn to shreds. She wouldn't bat an eyelash if he bled to death.
As long as he stayed away from Ciri.
Geralt rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd have to deal with this crap on his own. He liked women fine, but not when they were sullen and tetchy. A single word spoken in the wrong way was likely to set their temper ablaze. He'd been scorched often enough by Yennefer to know not to goad Ciri. He would've stayed out of it, keeping his mouth shut if his beloved hadn't kicked him in the shin.
"Ow".
"What?" called Ciri.
"Nothing".
Yennefer glowered at him, her brows furrowing. If he sat there and didn't say a damned thing than he was in trouble. Geralt could already feel her claws grabbing a metaphorical hold of his balls. She didn't need to crush them to get her point across. Yen would make him miserable if he didn't say something reassuring.
Geralt said the first thing that popped into his head. "You're not jealous are you?"
Ciri's rebuttal was stern. "No! How could you think that? I don't like Avallac'h that way! He's my teacher not my beau!"
"He was your teacher", corrected Yennefer. "Past-tense, my dear".
"Yes, of course", she agreed whilst biting her lip. "I haven't had his guidance for months, but even then I'd never thought he'd replace me". She cringed, realising what she'd admitted aloud. "That didn't come out right". She gaped when Geralt's eyes widened till she saw the whites of his sclera.
"You are jealous".
"I'm not!"
He shook his head, ponytail lashing the collar of his jacket. "Why are you scowling then?"
Ciri looked away, her lip curling with indignation. "I'm not scowling!" She lifted her chin, nose in the air when he snorted as if he knew better. She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at the rug under the table. It was a dark wine-red, its edges trimmed in gold.
"Right. 'Cause you look so damned happy that Avallac'h's getting laid for the first time in six hundred years".
Geralt moved his foot before Yennefer could kick him again. The pointed toe of her boot striking nothing but air. He was so used to her moods, that he didn't fear the dark looks that promised pain and dismemberment. Yen was more likely to blister his ears with an angry tirade than lay a manicured fingernail on him. She'd mellowed once her position in his life had proven absolute.
Triss had been a passing fancy, while Yennefer was the cornerstone of his world.
Her place assured thanks to a djinn breaking an old djinn-cast spell. Although domesticity hadn't dulled her claws. Geralt knew that he'd pay for that outburst, especially when Ciri shot out of her chair. She stormed away in a fury, heels clipping the flagstones in short angry strides. Her face a maelstrom of rage, shame and envy.
She was gone in a flash of silver, her departure like a clap of thunder rending the quiet.
"Geralt!" snarled Yennefer. "You were supposed to say something reassuring, not infuriate her till she ran away!"
He gave his beloved a flat look. "She'll be back. Ciri needs some time to adjust to the way things are now. Avallac'h went and got himself a girlfriend. She'll get over it".
"Geralt!"
He cut her off before she could scold him again. "Ciri's not the problem here".
Yen paused, considering him. "What is it?" She knew something wasn't right when Geralt frowned. He wasn't looking at her, but at the door of Avallac'h's bedroom. "What's wrong?"
Her witcher curled his lip, revealing the sharp point of a canine fang. A token gained from surviving his Trial of the Grasses. "Avallac'h's girlfriend isn't an elf – at least not completely. I can smell something in her scent besides arousal. Might be why she's going at him like a battering ram in there".
As if to illustrate his point, there was the familiar clatter of wood on stone.
Yennefer was cagier now, feeling less inclined to maim him. She trusted his instincts. "What is it? What do you smell? Is she a monster?"
"Worse", replied Geralt. "She's a shape-shifter, probably some kind of dragon. She smells like Borch did after he transformed, showing his scales. But her scent carries more than that sour draconid musk. There's ash, fire and an undercurrent of something familiar".
"What?"
"Like thunder before a storm, when the air is dry and hot moments before a flash of lightning".
"Shit".
"Yeah", he seconded, not liking that surprise either. "She smells like Ciri".