Kit looked up to the branches that had long since ceased to carry any leaves and that did nothing to hide the cloudy sky above. She squinted her eyes before averting her gaze but the other trees looked just as pitiful. Their bark appeared to be charred, as if each and every one of them had been burned in a horrible fire. Kit knew better though. Had there been a fire the resulting fallout, the ashes, would have fertilized the ground and given way to new life. But there was no life to be found in this desolate, sorry excuse for a garden. Not even weeds seemed to be inclined to grow in what once must have been an oasis.
"How many years did you say?"
"Nearly 20," Geralt answered, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He felt slightly uneasy looking at the disaster around him. He had visited graveyards that were livelier than this garden. Birds avoided the place as did all the other animals. Even insects could not be bothered to crawl through the remains. And from the state of things, the priestesses had long ago deserted as well. The wall around the garden had been worn down in some places and never repaired. Things did not look much better on the inside. They had probably left a few years in when they realized that the garden would never come alive again.
Kit stood slack-jawed. "It's been nearly two decades and nothing has grown back? What on earth did you do?"
"You already know that," Geralt answered defensively. "Nothing." He pouted.
"Yeah, yeah, I know it was Yennefer. But… wow."
Wow indeed, Geralt thought. He knew that the damage Yennefer had caused had been substantial. She had drawn every last bit of energy out of Freya's garden to briefly revive a corpse so they could question said corpse about Ciri's whereabouts. The memory of the man haunted Geralt to this day. He wished that she had not done it but at the same time realized that it had been their only shot at saving Ciri. He had felt genuinely terrible when the priestesses of Freya's Garden had banned him and Yennefer from ever returning. He had hoped that after all this time their damage had been undone, that nature had reclaimed her territory just as she used to do all the time.
"This place is dead. This place is so dead, you'd need another round of necromancy to make anything move around here." Eskel's comment, while certainly a correct assessment of the situation, earned him a stink eye from Geralt. "Can you do anything about it?" he asked Kit, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to mime her healing ability.
She shook her head. "I'm not a plant doctor." She started poking a sickly-looking fern that struggled to grow out of a hole in a wall. "My stuff only works on mammals. This is terrible."
"Can we stop commenting on the obvious now?" Geralt grunted.
"Why? Can't the golden child handle a failure?" Eskel patted his brother on the back and only earned a huff in return.
Sacrificing the garden to find Ciri was a decision he stood by to this day, there had been no alternative. And in the end the entire world had been at stake – was this garden not a small price to pay for the continued existence of the human race? Sadly, that last part had never really made its way through the rumor mill and instead of receiving appreciation for having saved the world, Geralt likely would still be voted worst gardener of all time by the locals.
Geralt had had no intentions to ever return to the garden, to the entire island of Hindarsfjall to be precise, because he had a slight suspicion that he would make the acquaintance with someone's pitchfork sooner rather than later after the priestesses had kicked him out in no uncertain terms back then. But he had also known that there would be no way around it. Kit had insisted that he show her all of Skellige since they came all the way, and especially the garden that she knew from stories only. Geralt would not have returned here had he not assumed that after nearly two decades the garden would have recovered. Now he was silently praying that the old priestesses from back then were not around anymore.
Kit seemed to sense his unease and grabbed his hand.
"I'm hungry, let's leave."
Her sweet smile left no doubt that she wanted to leave purely for his sake.
They turned back to the gates which remained unlocked because there was nothing left for them to guard.
Geralt heard her, twigs breaking beneath unsteady feet, before he saw her. She on the other hand was old, her hearing was bad, her back crooked but her eyesight worked just fine.
"You!" she screamed once she recognized the white-haired witcher, a small basked filled with herbs shaking in her rheumatism-worn hand.
"Ah, shit," he murmured.
"How dare you return here?" The woman, her thinning gray hair braided in typical Skellige fashion, shook with rage. "Have you come to destroy the rest of our island as well? Haven't you caused enough damage?"
He had estimated that a lot of the priestesses from back then would be dead by now – the harsh living conditions on the islands did not exactly contribute to a long life expectancy. But this one, Geralt guessed, was probably kept alive by her hatred for him. If ghosts could subsist on hate, surely humans could too.
"You have brought another witch I assume?" she hissed, nodding towards Kit, who immediately felt compelled to speak up.
"While I admit that I have killed every house plant I have ever owned, this is not on me. I'm strictly killing only my own plants. Everybody else's greenery is safe, so leave me out of it. Also, for fuck's sake, why do people always think I'm a sorceress?"
"Cause Geralt has a history," Eskel offered helpfully.
That remark earned him unimpressed expression from both Kit and Geralt.
"GET. OFF. OUR. ISLAND!" the old priestess proceeded to scream at them with no regard for their own discussion. She turned around to leave, rather swiftly for her age, and took a few steps before she stopped dead in her tracks. She faced the group again.
"May Freya curse you for what you've done!" she spat and proceeded to throw the small basket she had been carrying with her at Geralt. Or at least she tried. She ended up missing him by several feet. Instead the basket hit Eskel on his upper arm. He watched unimpressed as it bounced off his biceps and spilled the wormwood that it had contained onto the ground.
Eskel sighed and knelt down to retrieve the basket.
"If you'll allow," he mock bowed to the priestess and then lightly bonked the basket against Geralt's head before handing it back to the old woman.
For the briefest moment the priestess' lips seemed to twitch into a smile when Geralt protested but before that could happen she had grabbed the basket from Eskel and walked off as quickly as her frail legs would allow her to.
"What the hell, Eskel?" Geralt barked.
His brother shrugged. "That basket was intended for you but as so many times before it's me who gets to take the rap for your shit." He sneezed and wrinkled his nose.
"Why? Is it my fault now that the old hag doesn't know how to aim properly?" Geralt shot back, arms crossed angrily over his chest.
"Do you remember that one time when you accidentally set one of Vesemir's favorite hats on fire and I took the blame for that? I couldn't walk straight for a week. You owe me for that still!"
"Now do I remember?" Geralt wondered with a smug grin on his face. "Seems like you forgot your considerable fuck up that one time when you thought you were fine facing that basilisk armed with nothing but a ladle…"
Eskel sneezed again and scratched his nose. "Damn that wormwood. I always had a feeling that I was allergic to it," he mumbled to himself and shook his head. "I am telling you, the ladle had magic properties and I would have been fine on my own!"
"You were completely shit faced."
"So what? Unlike you, I'm perfectly competent in that state."
"Said the idiot who tried to fight a basilisk with a ladle," Geralt remarked dryly.
"A magic ladle!"
The men did not stop bickering all the way back to their boat and soon started to reminisce about their glorious deeds from decades ago.
Kit watched with a smile as the two men slowly reverted back to children while Eskel kept sneezing occasionally despite having put a safe distance between himself and the wormwood.
Just a few hours later they found themselves in a tavern in Redgill, enjoying a warm dinner. Outside a typical Skellige storm was wreaking havoc but nobody paid it any mind.
Geralt remembered the last time he had been here. Redgill had consisted of a few dilapidated, uninhabited houses while a little further north, bandits had set up their camp. But ever since Queen Cerys had opened up the country and trade was flourishing, all the old, abandoned villages of the coastal regions had experienced a rebirth. Most of them could hardly be called villages anymore as they had grown to become small towns, each with their own harbor even. It turned out that if you did not immediately try to sink every ship and kill everybody who tried to visit your island, there were opportunities to be gained for everyone involved. The rise in prosperity among the people was noticeable. Geralt would know as the amount of wine he exported to the islands had increased considerably during the past few years.
Yet another sneeze from Eskel pulled Geralt out of his thoughts.
"You alright?" he wondered.
"My nose is itchy," he explained to his brother as he scratched his nose yet again.
"Maybe it really is an allergy?" Kit volunteered. "Happens to the best of us." She reached for his arm, a typical gesture when she would look for the source of an ailment, but withdrew it quickly and shrugged.
"Maybe. Anyway, I'll go to bed. With that storm outside nothing's gonna happen today anymore."
Geralt and Kit left shortly after. Despite it being May, the nights were cold, not least because of the frequent storms. When they entered their room, a fire was crackling in the fireplace already, rendering the room in warmth and a golden red glow.
As Kit peeled out of her clothes, Geralt added another log to the fire from a basket nearby to keep it burning through the night. He still had to get used to the idea that this new and very clean room was actually located on Ard Skellig, a place where just a few years ago hospitality was a term people were about as familiar with as cleanliness.
He turned around to find Kit huddled up to her nose in thick blankets. He smiled and undressed before he joined her.
Laying there naked never lost its charm. Geralt hugged her tightly as she placed her head on his shoulder. Skin on skin her energy flooded over his body everywhere they touched. And that was pretty much everywhere. Their legs were entangled, bodies pressed flush, hands searching for each other, leaving them in a mess of limbs that nobody would have thought to be even the least bit comfortable. But as soon as Kit had rubbed the cold tip of her nose against his throat, she fell asleep.
Geralt struggled a little longer, her soft, naked skin fanning his desires as he felt his urge grow. But he dared not to move and eventually fell asleep as well.
Geralt and Kit had already dug into their breakfast by the time Eskel joined them the next morning.
"You two look very well rested for people who spent their night taking the piss out of others," he greeted them, his expression sullen.
As if on command, Geralt and Kit shot each other a questioning glance and then shrugged simultaneously before returning their gazes back to Eskel.
"Appears we need a little more information on what exactly it is that we did," Geralt, who had no idea what his brother was even talking about, explained while ripping a piece of bread apart.
"Are we pretending to be innocent then?"
"I'm not pretending to be anything," Kit said between two spoons of porridge.
"So you didn't put all of these flowers in my room last night?" Eskel said as he pulled a crumpled white tulip from his pocket – roots and all.
"Don't be silly. Tulips don't even grow on Skellige," Geralt reminded him.
"You could have bought them."
"Where can you by flowers with their roots still attached on this island? And why on earth would we bother to smuggle a single tulip into your room?"
Eskel examined his friends carefully before he replied: "Because the two of you are delusional and consider yourselves funny."
"What's funny about placing flowers in someone's room though?" Geralt wondered.
"I don't know, you tell me!" he said exasperated. "And it's not just one tulip but a whole bunch of flowers – which I'm sure you are aware of since you put them there."
The conversation went back and forth between disbelief and denial until Geralt and Kit decided to investigate the crime scene themselves.
"Tulips, pimpernels, daisies, even roses. And all of them with roots attached. This is so strange." Kit suddenly giggled. "Tell us, Eskel, is there a secret lover that we should know about? She definitely needs a lesson on how flower bouquets work."
"Funny," Eskel growled. "And even if there was, wouldn't be much of a point telling you about because then it wouldn't be a secret anymore."
"I cannot argue with that logic." Kit shrugged. "I swear it wasn't me. I wouldn't even know where to buy all these flowers anyway."
Eskel finally gave up but kept a suspicious look on his face for good measure.
To make up for the depressing garden experience of the previous day and mostly to tease Eskel a little more, Geralt suggested visiting one of the many sprawling wildflower fields that Skellige had to offer. He vaguely remembered having visited a particularly beautiful one when searching for a missing druid's assistant. It had been October back then but now, in May, the flowers, especially the highly coveted pimpernels, would be in full bloom.
"Since when is she so into flowers?" Eskel wondered as they were waiting for Kit. "Isn't she usually the bring me food not flowers type of woman?"
Geralt sighed. "Not many touristy places around. What else are we gonna kill the time with until Cerys' jubilee?"
"True," Eskel agreed before sneezing violently.
"What's up with that? There's no wormwood anywhere near us." In fact, the only plants besides the grass they were standing on, were a few rather splendid looking violets in a flowerpot outside the tavern that Geralt would have sworn had not been present yesterday and had no business looking as good as they did after the storm.
"If I knew…" Eskel lamented as he scratched his nose.
Shortly after, Kit returned with three horses for their trip further south.
The view that offered themselves did not disappoint and Kit quickly forged ahead, leaving the two witchers behind.
It seemed everything was in their favor. Once they reached their destination, Skellige experienced a rare moment of cloudless blue skies. Geralt's assumption had been right, the flowers were in full bloom, their colors radiating ever more vividly in the sunshine.
Kit got off her horse and ran into the field like a mad woman, saying something along the lines of 'instagram worthy' – whatever that meant. She was quickly out of their sight as the men discussed where to set up the blanket and picknick they had brought.
Eskel contributed a steady stream of more sneezes to the discussion.
Suddenly Geralt's medallion vibrated and then started pulling on his neck. For a moment he was confused – it normally did not react so strongly, no matter how big the danger. But then he remembered: Yennefer had cast a spell on it so he could find Kit whenever she was in danger. So far his medallion had reacted exactly once in its new capacity, namely when Yennefer had placed said spell on it.
He was on his feet immediately, sword in hand, before Eskel could even ask what had happened. Realizing that his brother was not joking, he got up as well and followed after him.
The medallion drew them into the right direction and hardly any time at all had passed before they found Kit. She was not alone though – two succubi were with her. One of the strikingly beautiful goat-legged women held Kit by her hair while the other hissed at her.
"Let go of her!" Geralt grunted. The succubi, realizing exactly what kind of men they were facing, let Kit go and took a few careful steps backwards while bracing themselves for an attack.
"What's going on?" Geralt demanded to know as he bent down to check up on a befuddled Kit. She looked fine – nothing that would warrant such a strong reaction from his medallion. Furthermore, succubi were not known to be very dangerous per se. Geralt could not help but feel that Yennefer had infused the amulet with a penchant for being overly dramatic.
"She needed to be stopped. The flower is sacred, it is not for plucking!" one of the succubi answered, pointing a tanned arm at the flower in question. Geralt did not like how she pawed one of her hooves nervously on the ground, and prepared to act should the need arise.
But first there was Kit to take care of.
"You alright?" Geralt asked as he helped Kit up and examined her.
"'Tis but a scratch," she answered and rubbed over a red line on her wrist.
"Great, more flower bullshit," Eskel muttered.
His comment earned him a furious stare from the succubi.
"Our flowers are sacred, witcher. They are not for you to turn into potions. Or for you to pluck and put in your home," the taller of the two, her complexion pale and matching her blonde hair, added, looking at Kit.
"But I didn't want to pluck it, I was just looking at it."
"Look with your eyes, not your hands," she hissed.
"I like touching things…" Kit mumbled quietly, looking at the ground like a child that had been caught stealing candy.
"Why get so worked up about a flower?" Eskel wondered.
"It is the last of its kind. They are not growing anymore anywhere on the islands," said the other succubus, sadly shaking her brunette mane.
"Too many people nowadays with too little regard," added the other one, her expression equally as somber as that of her companion.
"Sorry about that then. Let's just leave, alright? No need for anyone to get worked up over this." Eskel turned. "Come on, let's go."
"I really didn't mean to take it," Kit said. The succubi nodded. Geralt breathed out in relief. He would have hated for them to fight.
As he took Kit's hand and turned around to leave, he stopped dead.
"Didn't you say this pimpernel was the last one?" he wondered. Without waiting for an answer, he said: "What about all these?"
For a moment the succubi stood there, mouths agape.
"Those were not here before…" was all they could say.
Kit wrinkled her forehead. "Geralt, I think they are right. Look, the flowers are growing still, as if someone hit the fast forward button on a remote."
Kit was right. He saw the flowers grow quickly in front of him, shooting out of the ground and spreading their petals toward the sky. Before he could properly formulate what was bothering him about this (and it was a lot) he noticed that the flowers were growing in an unusual pattern. Instead of being scattered along the entire valley, they seemed to form an orderly pathway. A pathway that lead directly to Eskel.
Kit seemed to notice it too and so did the succubi. They carefully placed their hooves as they followed the path, lowering their beautiful horned heads to examine the flowers.
"They are back and that man made them grow," one of them concluded.
"Witcher, stop!" the other demanded. "Make more flowers for us."
Eskel, who was unaware that he had done anything at all, did not react but kept walking. He only stopped briefly to sneeze. Suddenly the grass beneath him burst with fast growing flowers in an even circle around him.
He could not help but notice his involuntary creation.
"Strange allergy," he mumbled, brows furrowed. Helplessly, he looked at the group, only now realizing that they all wore the same astonished expression.
"Well… that might explain why you found all those flowers in your bed this morning," Geralt suddenly remembered.
"I told you we were innocent!" Kit added for good measure.
Geralt's medallion vibrated again. He closed his fist around it when it would not stop. What was wrong with that damn thing?
"What the hell is even going on? Are you responsible for this?" Eskel accused the succubi. The creatures stared at him wide-eyed.
"Make more flowers for us, witcher!" the brunette pleaded, her hostile demeanor from before now gone entirely as she clutched her hands to her chest.
"I'm not making anything. See? I'm doing nothing, nothing at all!" He walked a few steps away from them and was annoyed to realize that with every step more flowers were shooting out of the ground.
"Interesting," Geralt murmured. He suddenly felt Kit at his side who had draped her arms around his stomach as she cuddled against his back, seemingly having had her fill of the curious view in front of her.
"I think he was cursed. Yesterday, I mean," Kit explained with a giggle as she rubbed her cheek against his back.
"By whom?"
"The old priestess? Remember, she threw her basket at you and cursed you. Maybe she actually cursed you. Like… literally." She giggled again.
Geralt was about to say something but then closed his mouth again. Could it be? And was it not ironic that the curse was doing the exact thing that seemed impossible in Freya's destroyed garden? An idea started to form in Geralt's mind.
"That's silly," Eskel decided.
"Sillier than trying to fight a monster with a ladle?" Kit interjected.
Eskel groaned. "Magic ladle!" He shook his fists in exasperation and then cursed when this led to yet another circle of flowers bursting from of the ground.
"You should reconsider your profession," Kit laughed and then shook, pressing her body against Geralt's. Simultaneously, Geralt's medallion vibrated vigorously. What was going on? He could hear that Kit's heart was beating a little faster than usual but apart from that she seemed fine.
"Great. Soon I'll be trying to defend myself throwing flowers at my enemies," Eskel pouted.
"You'll be everybody's most popular flower girl… I mean flower witcher. You'll be invited to every wedding!" Kit joked with a slight slur in her voice.
"Not funny. How do we stop this?"
"Why stop? More flowers, please!" the blonde succubus begged.
"Might be mistaken but maybe re-growing Freya's garden will break the curse. After all, it's where you were cursed and why – except this was meant for me. And I had a part in destroying the garden," Geralt contemplated.
"Assuming you're right," Eskel started, "how is this supposed to work? I cannot control whatever I'm doing here. And I'm growing flowers and only flowers. No bushes, no trees, no nothing. I don't think that's gonna cut it."
One of the succubi piped up again: "We can help, we can guide you."
The other one chimed in: "Help us, grow more flowers for us, and we will help to break your curse – if regrowing that garden is indeed the cure for your ailment."
"You cannot be serious," Eskel complained, rolling his eyes.
"Well, you could wait and see if it stops. And if it doesn't maybe you could consider getting a job as gardener at the palace. I'm sure they'd be delighted. I imagine it will be hard to continue working as a witcher when you can never again hide from anyone because a sudden floral growth will always give away your position," Kit remarked.
Geralt laughed at the idea but only until his medallion started to vibrate again. Kit still held onto him tightly. He suddenly became acutely aware of her body heat.
"Whatever. I'll grow your stupid flowers. What do I need to do?"
The two succubi smiled sweetly and each grabbed one of Eskel's arms, caressing them with their fingertips.
"We will show you," one of them said suggestively.
"We will help you help us," the other one added.
"I think we should seek out a quieter place," the first one added.
Eskel raised an eyebrow. "It is quiet. How much quieter can it possibly get?" he wondered, though it was safe to say he was not entirely reluctant to go with them.
"The girl can barely hold it together. I imagine she's a loud one," the succubus stated matter-of-factly. "Feel free to use our cave over there, up the hill. Nobody will disturb you there," she said directed at Geralt.
Geralt looked quizzically.
"Disturb what exactly?" He felt another vibration on his chest. Kit giggled.
"I'm afraid I accidentally scratched her," she nodded in Kit's direction. "It will likely have worn off by next morning. But until then… You look like you have stamina. You're going to need it." And without further explanation the succubi and Eskel went off.
"What on earth is she talking about?" Geralt wondered.
Kit sighed. "I'm horny. I'm so unbearably horny." As if to underline her point, Kit pressed her hips into Geralts' behind, still hugging him.
Geralt looked down at her arms that had wrapped themselves around him. He again noticed the scratch on Kit's wrist and finally managed to connect the dots. He knew that succubi thrived on lust and desire. It was their literal bread and butter. It was what sustained them. They would choose a victim, a victim only by name, and a good time would be spent – Geralt had more experience in that field than he liked to admit (not as much as Eskel though) - and then the magic was gone. Victim and succubus would both be satisfied, though in different ways.
This, however, was the first time he had witnessed that a succubus had used her powers to defend herself. He had heard stories of course, of people having been bitten and going mad with lust if they could not find relief. But that a simple scratch should be enough to affect a person so strongly was news to Geralt. At any rate, at least it would explain why his medallion was still signaling danger.
It could be worse, he thought, as his wife started to hum and ran her fingers over his skin beneath his shirt. The prickle of her energy made him shudder. It felt different today, as if there was an aftertaste of something different in it.
He briefly wondered if it was a good idea to simply leave Eskel alone with the succubi but then again he was a grown man, responsible for his own actions. And Kit's neediness made him weak. And also hard. Painfully so.
Geralt turned around so he would face Kit. She smiled at him, her cheeks were reddened and her legs wobbled as if she had had too much wine. Her heart rate had picked up and her temperature felt unnaturally warm when he felt her forehead. He hummed, unsure what to make of the situation.
Kit on the other hand seemed to have sufficient determination for the both of them. She stood up on her toes to kiss Geralt, leaning into him to steady herself as she did so. He felt her sweet lips part for him and followed her invitation. Her energy swept over him like a tidal wave, wiping everything from his mind as he searched and found her tongue. His arms trapped her against him and she melted into him obligingly.
The way she pushed her hips against his made him very much aware they could not keep standing around here forever. He broke their kiss, staring into Kit's light blue eyes which shone against her beautifully flushed face.
"Don't make me wait," she begged.
"Won't," is all he managed to say between trying to keep his senses together and imagining what was to come.
Without warning, he threw his wife over his shoulder and made for the cave – not without a quick detour to pick up their picknick basket because he had a feeling they would need sustenance. The stories he had heard about what an impact a succubus could have on one's lust made him cautious. And excited. But right now, mostly horny.
Dear reader,
this one is all about flowers. Special flowers, hungry flowers – like Audrey II from 'little shop of horrors'.
Geralt took us to visit a place he discovered when he had last been to Skellige. There is a longer backstory to this which I will not bore you with. But when I saw the meadow ahead of us, there was no stopping me. I channeled some 70s flower power energy and ran into the field like a mad woman. I swear never in my life have I seen that many flowers – Dutch tulip fields look sad by comparison. And the further I went, the more and more flowers there were. But there was one in particular that caught my eye. On closer examination it turned out to be an electric blue pimpernel even though it was a little bigger than it could reasonably expected to be. That's my opinion anyway. Take it with a grain of salt, I have never much cared about flowers and can hardly tell them apart. But even I cannot ignore a beauty like that.
I looked at that flower, just looked at it, I swear, and it pissed some people off. Massively.
And just like Audrey II, I was suddenly very hungry ("feeeeeed meeeee" – minus the musical number). Not for blood but for sex. It took every last ounce of my willpower not to attach myself to Geralt in the most private ways possible while the two succubi and Eskel were still present but luckily for me they made off quickly and I could not have cared less. In hindsight, very irresponsible. They could have done who knows what to Eskel. My memories are a bit fuzzy but I am nearly certain that he actually did not mind being taken advantage of by our horniness-causing hosts. Welp. It is too late now for regrets anyway.
Admittedly, Geralt and I being all over each other and not always in control is not exactly news but whatever that little succubus-sponsored scratch did to me, it nearly made me lose my brains. My mind was so frazzled that I could not even attempt to heal it because there was not one thought in my stupid head that was not about having that gorgeous man fuck me into oblivion. My hands had already found their way beneath the fabric of his shirt, tracing his hard muscles. I am not sure if Geralt could feel what was going on with me when I pressed myself into him, but regardless, he is a smart man and quickly realized what I needed.
Luckily, he never minded being my savior and did not let me down in my peril! I suppose he too thought that Eskel could take care of the situation if need be.
Sometimes Geralt does these things that should only happen on the pages of dime novels but that turn me on to no end. My gorgeous man threw me over his shoulder, one hand holding onto my thigh, making me wish he had placed it a little higher. I think I tried taking his shirt off while he was carrying me, too horny to realize that I was what was in the way of succeeding in removing the stupid fabric. In that moment I really hated the fact that we had evolved to wear anything at all. Being mad at evolution and wishing myself back to our cavemen days – that surely is a level of lewdness I have never reached before.
I think I was ready to explode by the time we reached the cave that we were so graciously allowed to use to satisfy my urges. It was a bit cooler in there than outside. There was a fire but it was too small to generate much warmth – its only purpose was to keep the contents of the pot above simmering. Whatever it was, it made the entire cave smell rather nice, like a less obnoxious version of a perfume store.
Everything was decorated in dried and fresh flowers. There was a cozy looking bed-like area, several mattresses pushed together to form several times the size of a bed that, Geralt informed me later, must have been a result of the increasing trade on Skellige as there had been no (hu)man-made objects the last time he had been here. You win some, and you lose some, I guess. Trade your pretty flowers for a comfortable surface to do the deed on.
[…]
They lay next to each other, panting. She looked lovely with her pink cheeks, Geralt thought. He pulled her closer and she immediately responded by entangling her legs with him.
"I s'ppose being cursed isn't that bad," she mumbled. "With you," was the last thing the added before she fell asleep. Geralt smiled as he kissed the crown of her head.
The further the two succubi walked with Eskel, the harder it was for him to hide his grin. He had a vague idea what it would look like when they started 'teaching' him. The thought made him shiver pleasantly. Those would be number nine and ten, he thought, and one to eight had all been very agreeable experiences, even considering that number six had wanted to kill him initially. But everybody knew that enemies to lovers was the best sex so that had turned out brilliantly.
"Sit down," the darker skinned succubus said once they reached a little stream that bubbled peacefully next to them.
"Sure. But maybe give me your name? That might make things easier," Eskel suggested.
She cocked her head and then shrugged. "Talasha."
"And you?" he asked the blonde.
"Berinell."
"Eskel," said Eskel.
"We know," said Talasha. "Let us begin."
The succubi started to walk in graceful circles around Eskel.
"Put the palms of your hands on the grass," Berinell instructed. "And now imagine yourself spreading over the grass like the water from a river."
He gave the women a questioning glance but only received stern looks in response.
It was this moment when Eskel realized that things would not quite be going the way he had hoped.
A few days later, while Eskel stood, concentration written all over his face, Kit tried to snigger as quietly as possible.
"What are you laughing about?" Geralt wondered as Kit buried her face in his side in a desperate attempt to keep it together. He looked at his brother who had assumed a lunge-like position, arms stretched out, one pointing forward, the other pointing backward.
"I never thought I'd see a witcher do yoga but his hero pose is excellent," Kit informed him breathlessly as she fought to hold in her laughter, her face red like a tomato.
Geralt, who was not familiar enough with the concept of yoga to get the joke, mumbled: "And I never thought I'd see the day when I'd cross the ocean with two succubi."
After Eskel had ended his training session with their new friends, he confessed a new-found admiration for Kit and her ability to handle her powers without instructions as it had turned out that you could be a perfect killing machine, trained to precision, used to hardship and yet – making a flower grow according to your own will was the hardest thing Eskel had ever attempted. Sneezing them into existence was a different matter entirely though.
Even now exhaustion was written all over his face, his arms were shaking. Berinell and Talasha were carefully taking one arm each and worked their own powers on him. The witcher started to breathe calmly. The moment his face finally relaxed, the wasteland around him started to come alive again: At first the grass grew and regained its color. Then suddenly the trees shed and regrew their blackened barks, just for fresh leaves to sprout a moment later. Bushes trembled, flowers grew, new trees shot out of the ground. Within a matter of minutes Freya's garden had returned to its former glory. Geralt thought it looked even better than before but he admitted that maybe the absence of a talking dead body did a lot to lighten the mood compared to back then.
Even before Eskel had resumed a normal stance again, the first birds could be heard, hidden somewhere in the dense tree tops.
"Now that is impressive!" Kit let her gaze wander over her surroundings. "If this is what it looked like before, then I completely understand why they were so pissed."
"Did I do that?" Eskel blinked as he examined the garden.
Berinell was about to say something but suddenly Eskel had to sneeze again. He sneezed so hard that the succubi as well as Geralt and Kit were simply knocked of their feet by a small shock wave. Every last bit of ground exploded in stunning, blooming flowers. The trees shivered, presenting their fruits and nuts like eager market barkers praising their goods.
As if to signal that Freya was finally appeased, the sun came out behind the clouds and illuminated the ridiculously paradisiacal scene in its warm light.
"You done now?" Geralt barked at his brother, not yet having bothered to get up but leaning on his forearms.
Eskel wiggled his nose and tapped it with his finger. "I think… I think it's finally gone?" He looked to the succubi who just shrugged their shoulders.
With the garden restored, they decided to take a tour – they had done this during their first visit but decided that the change warranted another round.
By the time they were ready to leave, many of the villagers had gathered at the gates of the garden.
Geralt was surprised by how many there were. He would have thought that the 40 people who had gathered were about 20 more than actually lived on the island. The crowd murmured, the confusion was obvious on their faces, especially with the young ones who had never known the garden when it was alive.
Nobody took any notice of their strange group.
"Let's leave through one of the holes in the wall – people probably won't react well to our not so human friends," Geralt suggested with a nod towards Talasha and Berinell and strode ahead only to stop after a few steps. "Damn," he mumbled. "Not again."
They had managed to run yet again into the old priestess. The last of her kind, Geralt suddenly realized, as there were no other priestesses among the crowd at the gates.
This time she came aided by a walking cane. Initially she did not seem to notice the visitors she had explicitly forbidden from ever returning to this garden. Her eyes were widened in disbelief as she twisted her head in every direction to take it all in. Tears were running from her eyes, she let go of her cane and fell to her knees sobbing.
Geralt tried to motion the others to walk away into the opposite direction but it was too late, the priestess had already noticed them. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she looked at the group.
"Took you long enough," she said angrily.
Had he expected a thank you? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Decidedly no.
"Better late then never?" Geralt tried.
"Sure. I suppose getting a last glimpse before I die should make up for the past 20 years." The creases on her face made it look like her frown extended past her face.
"Are you sick?" Kit asked.
"A weak heart, old, alone… Nothing someone like you would understand," she answered. Her eyes filled with tears again. "Most left when the garden died. Some stayed, but then they died too. I'm the last one. And when I'm gone, nobody will take care of the of this anymore. I have no time to find and teach new priestesses. You came too late."
Geralt felt a pang of guilt and looked at the others helplessly. But nobody knew what to say.
At last, Kit came forward. She approached the old woman and gently helped her to her feet. She took the cane and returned it to its owner, closing her hand around the priestesses'.
"I'm sure you have more time than you think. Freya won't let her loyal servant down." Kit smiled at her and the old woman's expression softened. She stood still until Kit let go of her. "Your heart is stronger than you think."
And with that and a wink she turned away. The group left the priestess in prayerful silence.
"Your heart is stronger than you think?" Eskel blurted out as soon as they wear out of earshot. "Since when are you talking poetic nonsense?"
Kit smiled brightly. "I did not. Her heart was in a terrible state – but now it's better. I think I added a few more years to her life and a little less pain in her knees. Anyway, I hope I did."
Geralt, who had the most first-hand experience when it came to Kit's power and had seen her improve it over the years, had no doubts that the priestess would celebrate her 100st birthday at some point.
"Thank you," he said quietly and kissed her on the cheek as they walked away.
Just because the destruction of the garden had been necessary and, in the end, contributed to saving the world, did not mean that Geralt was indifferent to the suffering he had caused. He was glad he had only learned about the priestesses' fate today and had not had to live with the thought for the past two decades. He, like any other witcher, knew how it felt to have one's life and purpose stolen.
He felt ashamed for being so short-sighed, an emotion no witcher could ever afford. But things were different now.
Back on the boat he steered them towards Ard Skellige. Kit, noticing that he was not as present as he would usually be, took his free hand into hers.
"It's alright," she said.
Geralt nodded. When his goddess gave him absolution, he did accept, no questions asked. Her idea of him was the only thing that truly mattered.
But still, he vowed to do better in the future.