The light from the master fireplace bathed the front-room of Corvo Bianco in a warm, orange glow, the tinkling of the rain on the manor's tiled roof and the pattering of drops against its windowpanes barely audible over the thoughtful crackling of the flames. Geralt had returned from Beauclair just as the first drops of rain had begun to fall, hurried home by the sound of approaching thunder, and had managed to dry off in no time at all before requesting Yennefer join him for supper. His contracts, though easier in Toussaint than they had been back home, still left him tired and hungry after a day's work, and though it had been a little over three months since they had first moved to the countryside, the joy of joining his wife in a meal after all was said and done was still not something Geralt had grown used to, nor something he felt he would ever grow tired of the novelty of.
Marlene had prepared a fine meal for the evening: warm soup to counter the cold of the rain, made with the meat of some small, sweet bird, paired with perfumed rice, steamed greens, an assortment of grapes from the vineyard's own gardens, a spread of artisanal bread and cheese, and a bottle of White Wolf to wash it all down. Geralt was still unused to the idea of sitting down to a home-cooked meal, and he paused as the smell wafted up to greet him, offering a grateful nod to Marlene before she disappeared back into the kitchen again. Yennefer sipped at her glass of wine, her violet eyes raising to the gentle patter of raindrops against the roof of the manor, before she turned her attention to Geralt again, watching as he finished off his first glass in what seemed like one breath before starting in on his soup.
It had been a long day for him, no doubt, and she could not blame him for indulging; despite living in an estate like Corvo Bianco, he was still a witcher, and his table manners left something to be desired. She had taught him long ago to eat poultry with a fork and knife, and though he had retained that habit well, even without her present to enforce it, there were still certain aspects of his personality she found she could not so easily change – nor, she thought, did she particularly want to. It was nice that he retained a certain wildness, she thought; it reminded her of the first time they had met. He had been so coarse then, so brutish, so very different from everything she had ever known. He had challenged her, pushed back against her, something she was unused to, and something which had made it impossible for her to walk away from him ever after, no matter how she might have tried.
"And what was it this time?" Yennefer asked, lifting her glass to her lips again, allowing it to linger a moment before taking a sip as she waited with amused, bated breath for the answer.
Geralt grunted at the question, finishing off a bite of soup. "Vampires," he answered, looking up with a short snort of a chuckle, his own lips curving faintly in an incredulous grin as he reached to pour himself another glass of wine. "Or, they thought it was vampires. Everyone's still spooked about them. Think every bump in the night is a bruxa or a katakan."
"And was it vampires?" Yennefer asked, taking a sip of wine.
Geralt chuckled again, picking up his own glass, swirling the wine around in the basin before taking a swig and setting it down again with a satisfied exhale. "No," he answered, shaking his head. "Rarely is these days. Waited in the graveyard to catch the beast… found two young lovers instead. Howling from the catacombs was just them, fucking on all the stone caskets. Looking for thrills." He grinned at the memory of the last night's events, ladling his wide spoon through his soup as he searched for a satisfactory chunk of meat. "Apparently they thought the catacombs were sound-proof," he added, finally picking up a bite. "No idea why. No reason to sound-proof the dead."
"Perhaps they should start looking into it," Yennefer suggested, taking another amused sip of wine. "I can't say I've ever had an inclination to fuck in a graveyard, surrounded by corpses, but… there is a certain undeniable thrill to the idea. Perhaps these young lovers were onto something after all."
"Graveyards are usually full of monsters," Geralt pointed out, still chewing. "Ghouls. Alghouls. Wraiths. Grave hags."
"Close your mouth when you eat, please," Yennefer told him. "And I was only saying. Though it's just like a witcher to take the fun out of everything."
Geralt shook his head, taking another bite of soup, before washing it down with a piece of bread and another gulp of White Wolf. "That was my point," he told her, grinning, his golden eyes impish with firelight. "Beauclair's graveyard is clean. Barely any monsters. Only ever encountered ghosts there, and I sent them away a while ago." Picking up another piece of bread, he tore it in half, dipping it in his soup, before putting the whole thing in his mouth, waiting until he finished chewing before continuing his explanation. "They perfume the area so the smell doesn't permeate," he said, dipping the second half of his bread in the soup as well. "Doesn't attract ghouls."
"So are you saying we could…?" Yennefer asked, her own eyes bright with excitement.
Geralt nodded, finishing his second piece of bread, making sure to swallow before he answered. "If you want," he told her, picking up his spoon again. "If you've grown so tired of our marital bed. And the beds upstairs. And the dining-table, the stuffed unicorn… the wine cellar, the stables…"
"Alright, Geralt, you've made your point," Yennefer laughed, holding up a hand to stop him. "No need to continue. I was merely curious, was all."
"I didn't say no," Geralt pointed out, smirking.
Yennefer set down her wine glass at the comment, picking up her spoon instead. "Hmm," she answered. "In that case I'll think about it. Did you at least get paid for the contract, vampires or no?"
Geralt nodded at the question, taking a bite of soup, careful not to slurp to avoid further scolding. "Yeah," he said, skimming his spoon through the broth to look for more meat. "Got paid twice. Once by the lovers for not ratting them out, and once by the contract-giver for taking care of the howler in the night."
"You always were clever like that," Yennefer returned, taking a dainty bite of her own soup.
Geralt licked his lips, setting his spoon aside to instead pick up his entire soup-bowl, intent on drinking what was left of the broth. "Clever enough to reward with a tryst in the catacombs?" he asked, grinning.
Yennefer pondered a moment, watching as Geralt drank the remainder of his soup straight before setting down his bowl again with a satisfied exhale. "I'll think about it," she finally answered, already knowing well what the result would be. She had to make him work for things like this, she knew, or he would think he could get anything by simply asking – far too simple a solution for their particular relationship, as far as she was concerned.
Geralt chuckled at the answer, sitting back in his chair and stretching out his long legs under the table. "And what about you?" he asked, looking up at her again with the lazy eyes of a well-fed housecat. "What were you up to while I was aw—" But the question did not have time to fully form on his lips before it was interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door, causing both Geralt and Yennefer to look up in surprise from their until-then peaceful supper. It was not a loud knock, or a particularly authoritative one; whoever was at the door was likely there with a request, rather than a demand. It was not unheard of for people from town to come to Corvo Bianco during the day, either to ask for assistance from one or both of them or to broker some deal concerning the vineyard and the wine it produced. What was strange, then, was the fact that not only was it dark outside – far too dark for normal travellers – but the rain driving down on the roof was unmistakeable, the sound of thunder and shivering winds causing the windows to vibrate and hum.
Geralt stared at the door for a moment, watchful, as if hoping he might see through to the other side if he only stared hard enough at its polished surface. Then, looking back at Yennefer again, he frowned, his apprehension clear in his yellow eyes. "Were you expecting guests?" he asked, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard by whoever was standing outside. Yennefer shook her head, her gaze fixed on the door, as if waiting for something else to happen, some other telltale sign that might better apprise them of who now stood outside. A long pause followed the mysterious knock, a silence permeated only by the rain, before the knock repeated itself again, this time a bit more insistent than before.
Pushing his chair back, Geralt stood from the table, instinctively glancing towards the master bedroom, wondering for a moment if he should grab his swords before answering whatever was at the door. If it was a monster, he thought, it would not knock so politely – unless it was one that required an invitation in. If that were the case, then a simple sword would not be any good against so specialized a beast. A third knock followed not long after the first two, the visitor clearly growing impatient with being made to wait, and Geralt felt Yennefer's hand on his arm as she stood from the table as well.
"Be careful, Geralt," she hissed, eyes wide, before letting go of his arm again, allowing him to finally make his way towards the door to investigate who might be waiting on the other side.
The latches bolting the door clanked loudly as he undid them, one by one, until he finally pulled the door open, staring out into the rain at whoever – or whatever – now stood on their doorstep. A single figure stood shivering in the cold night air outside their door, its hood pulled down over its eyes to avoid recognition, but even in the darkness and the rain, Geralt could still make out that their visitor was much smaller than he had anticipated. The visitor was petite, cloak soaked to their skin, revealing a small, feminine form that Geralt was surprised to see – and at the sound of the door opening, the figure looked up, seeming relieved that someone was home to answer, before reaching up and pulling back the hood of their cloak, unveiling a mop of wet, fiery-red hair.
"Shani," Geralt breathed, startled at the sight of her. He could feel Yennefer hovering curiously a few feet behind him, her nervous energy palpable as she stood just out of sight of the doorframe, half-hidden in the long, orange shadows cast over the walls by the dancing fireplace. Geralt frowned out at their unexpected visitor, sparing a glance up towards the dreary, weeping sky, before looking back down at Shani again, watching as she shivered in the soaking cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her skin was nearly white with the cold, her cheeks and ears pink with the chill of the rain, but her face was one of only concern, sincere and apprehensive as she looked up at him from beneath the swath of bangs plastered to her face. "What—" Geralt started to speak again, but this time found himself quickly cut off by Shani raising a hand to stop him.
"Geralt, before you say anything, I have something to tell you," she informed him. In spite of her shivering, her voice was firm, and Geralt found himself taken aback at her tone. It was unusual for Shani to speak this way; for as long as he had known her, he had heard her speak with this sort of intensity only once, back in Vizima, when she had expressed her distaste for Triss' methods in taking care of the young Source, Alvin. Shani had grown quite fond of the boy, and saw him as her patient, someone who needed her help, rather than someone who should be exploited for the magical potential he possessed. Geralt had agreed with her reasoning at the time, but had still been concerned to hear the usually amicable doctoral student speak in such a commanding, critical tone – and while the tone she used now was not quite as harsh as that one had been, he still could not help feeling a bit on edge as he waited for her to continue.
Taking a deep breath, Shani lifted her chin, drawing her wet cloak tighter around her shoulders, and for a moment Geralt considered inviting her in from the rain, suggesting she dry out in front of the fire before giving him whatever news she had come to deliver. But her next statement stole the words from under him completely, rendering his mind a blank, broken slate.
"Geralt, I'm pregnant," Shani told him. "It's yours."
Geralt stared at her for a moment, blinking slowly, his expression fixed. "…You what?" he finally asked, certain he had heard her incorrectly.
Shani frowned, pulling her cloak closer around her shoulders again, sighing as she shivered under its watery weight. "It's yours," she repeated, more insistently this time. "I'm pregnant. Can I come inside?" Her hazel gaze flicked to the house over his shoulder, taking in the warm, dry room beyond, before her eyes suddenly came to rest on Yennefer still standing just behind him, lingering like a curious spectre in his broad-shouldered wake. Shani's already-pale face blanched at the sight of the sorceress, her eyes growing wide as she realized what she had done, before she looked back at Geralt again, retreating a step towards the vineyard behind her. "I shouldn't have come," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Geralt. Yennefer. I'll just go."
Geralt said nothing, his head still spinning with what he had just been told, but he had no time to think of a response before he found himself roughly pushed aside, his footing nearly failing him as Yennefer fought to replace him in the doorway. "Geralt, MOVE!" Yennefer insisted, shoving him out of the way, before reaching out to take hold of Shani's shoulders and pulling the doctor quickly inside. The sorceress clucked like a mother hen as she led Shani over towards the fireplace, taking her rain-soaked cloak from her shoulders and hanging it instead over a nearby armour-clad mannequin to dry. Geralt faltered as he watched the two, unsure whether he should join or stay; he could barely hear the tinkling of the raindrops on the tile roof as he stood in the open doorway, the driving patter on the leaves of the vineyard sounding muted and distant in his ears.
It was as if everything in reality had ceased to exist as he tried to process what Shani had told him, as if everything in his comfortable, familiar world had been turned upside-down in the span of a single moment. He could barely move, barely breathe, and had to keep reminding himself to blink; it was only the sound of Yennefer's scolding that pulled him back to reality, and then only for a split second. Though he missed the content of her words, he could guess well enough what she was telling him to do, and so, shutting the door to keep out the rain, he began to move back towards the dining-table instead, walking slowly, before finally lowering himself into his regular chair and waiting in vain for his thoughts to settle.
The idea of pregnancy was simple enough, the concept straightforward in principle; not only that, but he had never had difficulty imagining Shani as a mother, whenever she decided the time was right. The thought of it happening now, however – and because of him – was an entirely different notion, and one he found too difficult to wrap his head around, no matter how he tried. It was simply impossible, he told himself. There was no way any of this was real. It was not in Shani's nature to lie about this sort of thing, of course, but perhaps there was some way she could have misconstrued the signs, gotten it wrong. Perhaps she had gone back to Thaler after her night with Geralt at the wedding, and had simply miscounted the dates between their tryst and whatever had happened thereafter.
Thaler was the only one Geralt had ever known her to be with apart from him, and though she had not spoken of the spy in quite some time, he was unsure who else there was in her life she might have returned to. Perhaps she had met someone new, he thought. Someone nice. That was certainly preferable to the thought of Thaler, at the very least. The idea of the worm-like spy as a father made Geralt frown, and he could not help thinking that he almost preferred the idea of the child being his over belonging to someone whose loyalty came at the price of a handful of coins. He had seen Thaler slit a man's throat for a warm place to sleep, and had been present when he and Djikstra had conspired to murder Radovid – a fact which made Geralt culpable by association, of course, but did not change the fact that the thought of Ducat siring children made his skin crawl.
Shani's short red hair was nearly dry by the time Yennefer led her back to the dining-table, and Geralt watched as she combed at it with her fingers, trying distractedly to tame it down from its ruffled, fluffy state. She looked rather like a baby bird this way, he thought; puffy with its first soft down. He could not help noticing that Shani seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him as she sat, staring down at her hands in front of her, only looking up again when Yennefer returned with two teacups and the kettle that had been brewing over the fire. Leaning back in his chair, Geralt watched as Yennefer poured the doctor a steaming cup of tea, before pulling a warm, dry shawl around Shani's shoulders, fussing to herself as she combed the doctor's overlong bangs away from her eyes. The sorceress' usually striking voice was garbled and distant in Geralt's ears as he turned Shani's statement over and over in his mind, as if hoping it might somehow reveal its secrets if he just looked at it hard enough.
The idea of a baby was not unpleasant to him, nor entirely unwelcome; Yennefer had long wanted children of her own, for as far back as he could remember. He, himself had some time ago become acquainted with the thought of caring for a young ward, as that was an integral part of the life of a witcher: training the young to take the place of the old, all part of a natural progression. Ciri had been the closest thing Geralt had ever had to a daughter, and though he had struggled with her at times during her youth, he had quickly grown to love the child as dearly as if she were his own flesh and blood. He had pushed and trained Ciri like an adult at Kaer Morhen, but he had always adored the sound of her carefree laughter, something he had begun to miss more and more as she had gradually aged out of her childhood jovialities.
The thought of a proverbial empty nest syndrome seemed silly and sentimental to him, and not something he would have expected to experience – but Yennefer had been far more affected by Ciri's leaving than Geralt might have anticipated, and though he hated to admit it to himself, so had he. The sound of little sparrow feet running the halls of Kaer Morhen was a thing of the far-off past now, and though he had done his best to put his feelings of melancholy on the subject to rest, he would still sometimes find Yennefer staring longingly out the window of their grandiose home, knowing full well that she was thinking about how very empty the house seemed, with so many rooms and no one but the two of them and their two house-helpers to fill them.
Shani's fingers were slim and pale against the porcelain of her cup as Geralt looked up at her again, unable to help noticing, now that he could see her more clearly in the light of the fireplace, that she looked a bit thinner than she had the last time they had seen one another, only a few months prior. Her face was fuller, but her neck was slimmer, her clavicle more prominent against the pinkish-white of her skin. Reaching down to the cup in Shani's hands, Yennefer tapped it gently with her index finger, heating it up with a touch of magic and causing a healthy curl of steam to waft from its gold-rimmed lip. Shani blew gently on the cup, cooling it enough to take a sip, before nodding in appreciation to the sorceress, using her free hand to pull the warm shawl a bit tighter around her rain-soaked shoulders.
"…Are you sure?" Geralt finally asked, breaking the silence, unsure what else there was to say.
Shani and Yennefer both looked up at the question, eyes wide, surprised, as if both had somehow forgotten that Geralt was also present at the table with them. Yennefer's brow furrowed in annoyance at the interruption, her peachy lips pursing, but she said nothing, only stared at him as if he were a greedy, well-fed dog nosing for additional scraps at a busy table. "Am I sure of what?" Shani replied after a moment, glancing between Geralt and Yennefer, as if confused on what he could be looking to question. "That I'm pregnant? Or that it's yours?"
Geralt faltered at the question, having not expected such a succinct response to his admittedly vague and baseline query. In truth, he had expected Yennefer to stop him before he got this far into the conversation, to tell him off, cut him short, belay all further interrogation with one of her patented jabs at how little he liked to take accountability for his actions. But the sorceress remained silent, her striking violet eyes resting squarely on his face, watching him closely, her soundless judgement boring holes in his psyche as he set his jaw, trying to decide how best to answer, now that he had the chance.
"…Both," he finally answered, wishing, as soon as he said it, that he had had a better response. His cat-like gaze flicked momentarily to Yennefer, attempting to gage her reaction, before quickly returning to Shani again, hoping Yennefer had not spotted his moment of insecurity. But, as always, nothing got past Yennefer, and it seemed that one glance was all that had been needed to break her momentary stasis of silence.
Gripping the backrest of Shani's chair, the sorceress bristled against the wooden frame, her violet eyes flashing with a ferocity that put the lightning outside to shame. "What kind of question is that?" she insisted, sharply, sounding more frustrated with his ignorance than angered by his brazen nerve. Geralt quickly looked up at her again at the outburst, his brows shooting upward in surprise, unable to help wondering, suddenly, if he might have been better off simply keeping his mouth shut until instructed to do otherwise. That would have been the wise thing to do, he realized – deep down, he felt as if he had somehow known that from the start – yet, as always, he never seemed keen to take his own advice until it was too late, and Yennefer was already down his throat about some stupid thing he had said, or some rash action he had taken. "You think a woman doesn't know these things?"
Geralt wavered for a moment on his response, trying to figure out how best to undo the harm he had not meant to cause in the first place with what he had thought to be such a simple question. He supposed his assumption of its simplicity lay squarely in the fact that he had never been asked anything remotely similar, and so had no idea its propensity to offend for someone actually equipped to be insulted by it. It was only now that he realized how insensitive and crass it had likely sounded coming from him, not only to Shani, but to Yennefer, who had already formed some surrogate bond with the woman who claimed to be carrying a child she, herself had only ever dreamed of bringing into existence. Frowning again, he grunted, thoughtfully, keeping his gaze fixed solemnly on Yennefer's, the hand that had been fidgeting at the edge of his armrest clenching over his thumb in remorse.
"I didn't… mean it like that," Geralt finally answered, quietly.
Shani sighed softly at the back and forth, holding her teacup poised under her chin, allowing the warmth of the liquid to waft gently over her chilly pink nose and cheeks as she waited for her hosts to pause long enough for her to insert a thought into the conversation. "It's okay, Yennefer," she finally interjected, taking the first opportunity to speak up again, causing both Geralt and Yennefer to turn their attention to her as she spoke. Taking another sip of her tea, she wet her lips, setting her cup down on the table in front of her, before taking a deep breath and looking up at Geralt again, locking her large, soft hazel eyes with his much harsher golden ones. "To answer your question, Geralt – yes, I'm sure," she told him, matter-of-factly, causing his brow to furrow deeper at the implication. "Of both things. I'm a physician, I can recognize the signs. Even if… I'd rather convince myself otherwise. Believe me, I tried to find any other explanation in the world for it. Especially considering, well…"
At this, Yennefer's expression changed as well, shifting quickly from annoyance with Geralt to confused concern as she looked down towards the younger woman again, drawing the warm shawl a bit more securely around Shani's rain-dampened shoulders. "Yes, I admit I was wondering that myself," she responded, her voice much softer now that she was speaking to Shani. "Not that I don't trust your judgement, only that… it's a bit hard to understand how it could happen, considering…"
"The Trials render all witchers sterile," Geralt quickly completed the thought, grateful someone else had brought the topic to relevance before he had to bring it up himself. Yennefer was already annoyed enough with him as it was with the way he had been acting towards Shani since her arrival, but that particular fact had been on the tip of his tongue since the start of her visit. He had simply been waiting for an opportunity to bring it up where it would not immediately result in him being torn apart for a lack of sensitivity, but that moment had seemed unwilling to come, until he felt he was nearly fit to burst.
Letting out a soft sigh, Yennefer turned her violet eyes up to Geralt again, clearly irritated with his obvious eagerness to bring the topic up in their current conversation. "…Yes," she returned, much more deadpan than before. "So you like to keep telling people."
"That's what I know," Shani responded, matter-of-factly, tapping one slender finger against the edge of her teacup, seeming to ignore the acerbic back and forth between her gracious hosts, a decision Geralt was grateful for, if quietly. "That's what was confusing me, too. So I did some research when I got back to Oxenfurt, and while I was looking in the archives, I uncovered some documents from a few years back detailing an experimental alchemical trial that was done by a couple of, erm…" She hesitated, sucking thoughtfully on her rose-petal lips, before letting out a soft, faintly bewildered-sounding breath, her gaze dropping to a spot on the tablecloth not currently covered by food or expensive setting-ware.
"Well," she said. "Independent researchers, I guess, would be the polite way of putting it. Crackpots is what most people would call them. Their experiments were originally funded by Oxenfurt Academy, as their thesis sounded promising, but it seemed they were actually experimenting their concoctions on unwitting townsfolk, unbeknownst to the ones in charge of the funding. They were trying to find a cure for sterility using mutagens from beasts known to have developed biological workarounds to continue reproducing in situations or environments where it would be difficult or impossible for creatures less… biologically inclined, to do the same."
"Hermaphroditic monsters," Geralt put in, tapping his finger pensively against the tabletop.
"A few hermaphroditic monsters were part of the focus, yes… among others, according to the research," Shani agreed, turning her gaze up to meet his again, causing him to pause as his eyes met suddenly with hers. She really was a lovely woman, he thought; between her fiery-red hair, her rosy cheeks, and her soft, intelligent voice, it was no surprise he had fallen for her charms on their first meeting all those years ago, nor that he had fallen for her all over again the night of her friend's wedding. In another world, in a different life, he might have convinced himself he could be happy with her – but not this world, or this life. In this life, he loved Yennefer, and any romantic feelings he might have had for Shani had faded with the last rosiness of wine and vodka from their cheeks after the end of the wedding festivities. He could only see Shani as a friend now, someone for whom he still cared deeply, but not someone he would ever have thought to ask to be the mother of his child, even if he had known the possibility existed.
It had nothing to do with her as a person – Shani was incredible, brilliant and beautiful, but Geralt knew she was a woman with a life of her own, a life he would never have been so selfish to ask her to put on hold for his sake, even as a friend. The fact that it had happened entirely by accident did not make him feel any better in the matter; if anything, it made him feel worse, knowing he had walked away and disappeared on her all over again after the events of the wedding, essentially leaving her to deal with the consequences of an action he had not given any thought might have significance beyond a simple tryst at the lake. Even now, it was bizarre to think he was speaking so casually about the mating habits of monsters with her, knowing full well her primary interest in them had been in trying to figure out how she could have been inadvertently impregnated by a witcher.
"They used not only monster mutagens, but other ingredients from witcher potions," Shani continued, drawing Geralt sharply back to reality, quickly shaking the last cobwebs of thoughts about the wedding from his mind. "Essentially making experimental witcher concoctions in an effort to alter pre-existing genetic conditions by introducing mutation-inducing materials into the human biological system. Unfortunately, as everyone knows, witcher potions are much too strong for the common man… many became incredibly ill or even died as a result of their experiments."
Setting her teacup down in front of her again, Shani stared intently into its shallow basin, her pretty brow furrowing as she tapped a thoughtful finger against the edge of the cup. "Once the board found out what they were doing, their research was deemed inhumane and an abuse of scholarly resources," she said, thinning her lips at what Geralt figured was the idea of such heinous intentional malpractice. "They were disavowed by most accredited medical academia… but not before they found a subject they believed would be able to successfully prove the viability of their research."
"Hm," Geralt answered, suspecting he already knew what revelation was coming next. He glanced up at Yennefer, gaging her expression, attempting to decipher from her well-honed poker face if she already knew the answer to this simplistic riddle as well. He supposed accepting mystery potions from strangers was not the worst thing he had done during his days spent wandering in an amnesiatic fog, but he was still not looking forward to having to listen to Yennefer tell him how asinine he was for doing it. She was right, of course – she always was, when it came to these things – but he still could not help dreading hearing it being told so frankly to his face.
"Their experiments were technically outlawed, but it seemed they continued to keep tabs on their last test subject in an effort to prove their research had academic merit that overshadowed its inhumane methodology," Shani continued, tracing her fingertip absentmindedly across the edge of her teacup, her gaze fixed thoughtfully on Geralt as she spoke, as if waiting for him to volunteer his obvious involvement in the topic at hand. "The last logs before they stopped updating – likely due to being arrested or killed, I'm not sure which – seemed to indicate that they had been observing the effects on a witcher they had met in Flotsam, who they anticipated would experience long-term results from taking their concoction, as it had not had any immediate effects."
"A witcher in Flotsam?" Yennefer repeated, turning to glance over at Geralt as well. Geralt quickly looked up at Yennefer in return, meeting her gaze, already feeling the burning judgement of her violet stare against his weary conscience even as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "You wouldn't happen to have travelled through Flotsam in that time, would you, Geralt?" Yennefer asked, making no effort to hide the tone in her voice that made it clear she had already decided his answer for him, judging him for his actions before he had even had a chance to open his mouth. To most, he supposed that kind of thing would seem unfair, but Yennefer had spent so many years getting to know him, learning his intimate ins and outs, suffering through his too-often rash actions and poor decisions, that doing things this way was simply the easier option a majority of the time. "A few years ago would have been during the time you were travelling with Triss, I believe."
"It's possible," Geralt answered, bluntly, shrugging one shoulder as he reached across the table towards a cluster of grapes, grabbing it off one of the silver platters and pulling it back towards his own dinner-plate. "I've been a lot of places. Flotsam is probably one of them." Twisting a grape off the larger cluster, he tossed it into his mouth, causing Yennefer to make a face, as if offended he could even think about food at a time like this. Then, letting out another sigh, Yennefer turned her attention back to Shani instead, finally moving out from behind the medic's chair to retake her own seat one to the left of her at the table, bookending her between her unusual hosts.
"It figures," Yennefer responded, sounding more resigned to Geralt's answer than annoyed by it. "Had you been with me at the time, I would never have permitted you to take a random concoction from a stranger on the street."
"Hm," Geralt returned, pulling another cluster of grapes from the bushel in his hand and bringing them to his mouth as well. "Sadly you weren't around to reference for an opinion."
Yennefer made a face at his response, one edge of her pristine nose pulling back towards her cheek in an expression of weary pique. Then, giving a soft, dismissive huff, she turned her attention away from the witcher again, instead reaching across the table to pick up the teapot, taking a moment to refill Shani's cup before returning dutifully to the topic at hand. "Let's not get into whose fault these things are," she stated, decisively, but Geralt had a feeling this would not be the last he would be hearing of this topic from her. "Geralt, did you take a potion from a person on the street in Flotsam?"
"I think so," Geralt answered, matter-of-factly, no longer in the mood for games. It was the best answer he could give, considering how little he remembered of that time in his life, but he was fairly certain it was accurate. One did not so easily forget being approached on the street and asked to down a mysterious potion, particularly a potion as strong as the one he had imbibed. It had been a witcher potion for sure, that much he had recognized from the start, but he had been too distracted by every other task still at hand to register exactly what it had accomplished. The toxicity had taken a while to wear off, something he had noted as strange at the time, but once it had, he had all but forgotten about the encounter with two odd-duck chemists and their peculiar tonic.
He had met up with the same chemists again some time afterward, during the great conflict of Loc Muinne, but they had not mentioned any prospective effects of their potion at that time either – and so he had been content to assume that whatever effect the potion was meant to have had worn off as the initial toxicity had waned, as most witcher potions were wont to do.
"Yes, well, you'll take anything that's given freely, won't you?" Yennefer observed, blunt and expressionless. "From anyone at all." The deadpan razor's edge in her voice gave Geralt an unwitting moment's pause, and he quickly looked up at the sorceress again, feeling a blade of ice carve down his spine as he stared at her across the table, ever surprised at how vicious she could be all while sounding imperturbably even and polite. Turning her attention back to Shani, Yennefer folded her elegant hands on the table in front of her, poised and familiar, watching as the young doctor sipped her tea, pretending not to have noticed the unsubtle insult the sorceress had just dispersed upon both herself and the witcher.
"Was there anything more about the potion or its effects on the witcher?" Yennefer asked, turning the conversation coolly back to the topic at hand. "What did the observations say before they ceased updating?"
Shani wet her lips at the question, lowering her teacup slowly to the saucer in front of her, her pretty brow furrowing faintly as she thought on what to say in response. "Well, that's just it," she finally answered, turning her gaze up to meet Yennefer's again. "The observations stopped over a year ago. There is no updated information after that to indicate whether anything came of the experiment. Only that they expected it to."
"So you're saying the experiment worked, then," Geralt put in, the tone of his question emerging a bit gruffer than he had intended, making him immediately regret having asked it that way. Shani turned towards him at the question, raising her brows, and Yennefer looked up at him again as well, her expression much less understanding than her redheaded counterpart. "It couldn't have been… anything else."
Shani hesitated at the inquiry, her slender fingers fidgeting around the edge of her teacup as she slid her teeth across her pink lower lip, before she finally let out a soft, weary chuckle, sounding half amused by his lack of tact, half stunned he had not bothered to pull any punches. "Not that I don't appreciate the subtlety of your implication of my loose morals, Geralt," she answered, slowly, turning her soft hazel eyes back up to his face, "but I'm not sure what else to tell you. I hadn't had relations with anyone for months before our… encounter, and haven't had any since." Her pretty mouth twitched faintly upward as she said this, her expression making it clear, despite her smile, that she was trying hard to hide hurt with humour, making Geralt wish dearly he had once again thought to keep his tactless mouth shut. "Unless you have some other explanation for what could have happened, I have to assume the only logical causation I have is the correct one."
"Don't be a boor, Geralt," Yennefer interjected, sharply, causing him to quickly close his mouth again, now thoroughly discouraged from saying anything more to damage the situation further than he already had. Satisfied that their interruptions had ceased, Yennefer reached across the table, pulling a dainty teacup and saucer from the place-setting across from her before picking up the kettle that sat between her and Shani and starting to pour herself a calming cup of tea. "I'm afraid I'm painfully unversed in your accomplishments, Shani," she admitted, looking up at the doctor again, before picking up her teacup and blowing on it to cool some steam from its peaceful surface. "I know you went to Oxenfurt, and I know you know Dandelion. I also know you helped Geralt find aid for young Alvin, back in Vizima. I was told that tale by Dandelion as well, come to think of it."
Taking a sip of tea, she paused, setting her cup back in its saucer, allowing her hand to curl around its warmth as she thought about what she had been told. "He's rather fond of you, you know," she added, turning her violet gaze up to Shani again. "He talks quite highly of you. Quite favourably. I wonder, does he…?"
"Who, Dandelion? No," Shani answered, quickly, shaking her head with a soft, fond laugh. "Julian is very sweet, but we've never been anything more than friends. I'm not sure I deserve whatever praise he's given me, but his passion could never be contained." Geralt gave a soft snort at this statement, earning a brief glance from both Shani and Yennefer, but Shani quickly diverted her eyes again, returning her attention to her cup of tea. "He's always been a wonderful friend, regardless," she added. "And I appreciate him for it. But we're just friends."
"He is a character, to be sure," Yennefer agreed, passing a thoughtful finger over the scalloped rim of her cup. "But I doubt he exaggerated about you." She paused, allowing Shani an opportunity to drink her tea, her violet eyes darting up to Geralt as she waited, as if to see if he had anything of interest to say. When he offered nothing, she exhaled, softly, before turning her attention back to Shani once more, seeming thoroughly unperturbed with having to continue the conversation on her own. "I'm afraid I haven't been kept apprised of your journeys since Vizima, however," Yennefer continued, picking up her teacup again and taking another sip. "I've been rather busy with other things, and my path has not crossed with Dandelion's in quite some time."
"After Vizima seems so long ago," Shani answered, setting down her own teacup with a soft, slightly embarrassed-sounding chuckle. "I'm not sure I remember it all in perfect detail. After Vizima, I… went back to Oxenfurt, completed my doctorate. Opened my own practice in the city for a while… then I believe I did time in every field hospital and medic's tent north of the Yaruga."
"Never could stand to be idle," Geralt commented, causing Shani to look up at him at the quip.
"Well, I'm not a witcher," she answered, her soft pink lips curling into a small, impish smile. "Not likely to live a hundred and fifty years. My time's much shorter, so I try to use every bit wisely." Looking back down at her teacup, she paused, concentrating on it in thought, before looking back up at Yennefer again, seeming to remember where she had been only moments earlier. "After that, I travelled around quite a bit," she continued, not missing a beat, despite the interruption. "Going wherever my assistance was needed. Redanian territories, mostly. Then one day I was called back to Oxenfurt, to investigate whatever was poisoning the city's waters and help create an antidote for what was causing the sickness." Lifting her cup to her lips again, she took another long sip of tea, allowing a moment of silence to pass before wetting her lips and setting the cup back down in its dainty saucer.
"I lost a lot of good men on that mission," she said, her voice quiet, hazel eyes solemn as she stared down at her tea. "But I did eventually find a cure. Geralt helped, of course… he got me the sample I needed to complete my decoction." She looked over at Geralt as she mentioned his name, and Geralt quickly turned his gaze up again to meet her eyes, having been momentarily distracted by the dancing flames in the crackling fireplace behind her. "After that… I travelled around some more," Shani continued after a moment, watching his face as she spoke, judiciously leaving out any mention of the wedding and the ghost of von Everec. He was grateful to her for omitting those details, though he was certain the subject of the wedding would come up eventually, considering the circumstances of Shani's visit. "Until I realized my blood was late… very late. That's when I thought it would be best if I were to come here."
Geralt grunted at the mention of blood, causing Yennefer to look up at him at the sound. He had learned barely nine years prior, at Kaer Morhen, what the significance of a woman's blood meant, but he still did not fully comprehend the connection between one detail and the other in Shani's story. Even so, he feared what reaction he might get from Yennefer if he were to ask so plainly for Shani to explain, and so he decided he would have to ask Ciri what the connection between the two might be, when next they spoke. It had been her first blood which had alerted him to the phenomenon in the first place, after all, so he figured she would be the least likely to judge him for being still so naïve on the matter.
Yennefer frowned a bit at the interruption, but quickly turned her attention back to Shani, seeming to decide that whatever was on Geralt's mind was not worth prodding at to investigate further. "I'm glad you decided to visit us, Shani," she told her, picking up the platter of bread and cheese from further down the table and setting it beside the doctor, offering her a selection. "Would you mind if I asked what your current housing situation is? Are you settled anywhere, or are you still travelling?"
"Oh, no," Shani answered, shaking her head, gratefully picking up a warm piece of bread. "I haven't found time to settle. I've been on the road working ever since leaving Novigrad, and I'll probably go back to that as soon as I leave here." Pausing, she frowned faintly down at the array of cheeses spread out on the plate beside her, only to let out a soft, embarrassed laugh as Yennefer took pity on her, picking out the one best suited to pair with the type of bread she had chosen. "Thank you," Shani told her, quietly, folding the cheese into the slice of warm bread. "As for my housing… when I'm not working military tents, I've been staying at various inns or hostels, setting up temporary clinics to do my work in the major cities. There's sickness everywhere… I've seen how it can spread."
Taking a bite of her bread and cheese, she hummed softly, appreciating the good food, before finally swallowing and shaking her head, solemn once more as she looked up at Yennefer again. "I can't justify staying in one place when people need my help," she said, her pretty brow furrowing. "Even if that would be more convenient for me."
"But surely you realize things are different now," Yennefer returned, folding her arms on the table in front of her. "You don't intend to travel around tending the sick while you're with child, do you?"
Shani paused at the pointed question, blinking a few times as she thought it over. "I… had," she finally answered, sounding much less certain than before. "I can't just abandon my oath. I made a commitment, after all. And besides, I figure I won't start showing for another… few weeks, perhaps, and even then it won't truly be a hindrance to me until at least six months in." Taking another, more distracted bite of bread and cheese, she chewed slowly, thinking about what she had said, before turning her gaze down to fix on her teacup, more hesitant to meet Yennefer's eyes. "As long as I can work, I can help heal the sick," she added, swallowing with a pointed nod. "What kind of doctor would I be otherwise?"
"A pregnant one," Geralt answered, causing Shani to look up at him in surprise. She frowned at the comment, setting down her bread and cheese, seeming a bit irritated at the point – though whether that was because of the subject matter or the fact that he was the one pointing it out, Geralt could not quite tell.
"Other women work while pregnant," Shani returned. "I don't see why it should change anything for me. You don't see a farmer's wife cooling her heels for nine months while she waits for her child to be born." Finishing her last bite of bread and cheese, she brushed her fingers across her dainty mouth, ensuring no crumbs remained before turning her attention back to Geralt again. "If she can keep working, there's no reason I can't do the same," she added, matter-of-factly. "I'm not better than she is."
Geralt grunted, folding his arms across his chest. "Farmer's wife doesn't treat disease," he pointed out. "Just cows."
"Perhaps there are ways you could continue your practice without having to put your child's life at risk?" Yennefer suggested, cutting over the back and forth. Reaching out, she placed her hands protectively over Shani's, as if hoping the touch might distract her from arguing back, even if her words did not. "Our home is large and impeccably clean, and we have dozens of rooms we've not yet had a chance to put to any real use," she said. "You could live with us, here, at the manor, and run your practice out of Corvo Bianco."
This suggestion seemed to get Shani's attention, and she quickly turned her gaze to Yennefer, looking half-intrigued as she waited for the sorceress to fill in more details of her offer. Yennefer smiled at the doctor's expression, retrieving her hands to her own cup of tea, and Geralt could not help wondering if she had been secretly formulating this proposal from the moment she had learned Shani was carrying his child. "You could treat the wealthy of Toussaint from the comfort of a clinic," Yennefer told her, sounding ever more enthused with the idea the further she continued. "You'd never again have to deal with the filth and danger of a medical tent. We'd provide room and board for you and your child, and you could use what money you earn from your clinic to pay for any other expenses."
Having said this, Yennefer suddenly paused, seeming thoughtful for a moment, before she turned her gaze to instead look out towards the rain-streaked windows, her expression growing strangely distant. "Corvo Bianco is a wonderful home," she said, as much to herself as to Shani. "But it can be quite lonely, especially on nights when Geralt is away and I'm left only to my thoughts and the books in our library. We don't have many guests, as you can imagine, and though we have everything we could surely want, the isolation can grow to be quite… disheartening, at times."
Geralt frowned at the sentiment, wondering why Yennefer had never thought to bring this up to him in the months they had lived at Corvo Bianco. She had always seemed content with the time she was allowed to spend without his presence, the nights he was out on the path pursing contracts for coin to spend on creature comforts. She had always had a taste for the finer things, and he had never been able to say no to her, an arrangement he had thought worked well for them – but now, as he listened to her speak of her loneliness to Shani, he realized she longed for more than mere creature comforts during the days he was away, and he felt like a fool for never thinking to ask if she was truly as happy here as he had always been content to assume.
Yennefer did not even seem to notice Geralt's expression as she turned her attention back to Shani again, smiling as she took another breath, intent on continuing with her grandiose plan. "Having you around, and your child as well… I think it would do us as much good as it would for you," she told her. "After all, what better way is there to spend one's time and money than on a child?" This last question hit Geralt harder than expected, and he grunted again, as if physically struck, but Yennefer spared him only a glance before returning her attention to Shani once more, watching her with expectant eyes as she waited for an answer to her offer.
Shani sucked her lip, staring down into the recess of her nearly-empty cup, before looking up again, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a soft, weary sigh. "Your offer is incredibly kind," she said, speaking slowly, determined not to offend the sorceress. "And I must admit, the idea of my own clinic is… something I've dreamed of for quite some time. But… it's too generous. I can't accept a situation where I feel I'm contributing so little in comparison to everyone else." Turning her hazel gaze down again, Shani's slim fingers fidgeted over the porcelain surface of her teacup, her brow furrowing softly in guilt as she tried to think of a way to continue her explanation.
"I appreciate the offer, but my duty is to the less fortunate of the world," she said, letting out another soft breath at the words. "If I let this pregnancy slow me down, allow myself to settle here, in your beautiful home… I don't know that I'd ever be able to convince myself to leave again once it's time to go."
"Then don't go," Yennefer answered, bluntly, causing Shani to look up in surprise at the response. Reaching out a hand to Shani again, Yennefer rested it over the doctor's wrist, raising her shapely brows as she fixed her gaze with Shani's, as sincere as Geralt had ever seen her. "Stay here, at Corvo Bianco," she insisted. "Live here with us. You're welcome here. You, your child, Geralt, and myself – we'd be like a little family." She paused as she said this, as if surprised by her own choice of words, before her gentle smile began to widen a bit, trying to hide the hint of sadness that had begun to creep into her expression at the thought. "It's been so long for us," she added, giving Shani's wrist a small, assuring squeeze. "We have so much room, and no one to fill it. Stay here with us. It would be so nice to be a family again."
The sound of a chair being pushed back from the table caused both women to look up in surprise, watching as Geralt rose rigidly to his feet before jerking his chin towards the master bedroom. "Going to bed," he announced, shortly. "Been a long day. We should all get rest soon." He had turned his face away from the fire as he stood, making his expression difficult to read, but Yennefer could still spot a glint of his yellow eyes in the flickering glow of the flames. She could see that the slits of his cat-like pupils were narrowed with anxiety as he stepped around his dining-chair, and she quickly stood up from the table as well, holding out a hand to stop him.
"Geralt, wait," Yennefer told him, causing Geralt to pause at her prompting, taking a moment before turning back to look at her, his expression flat as he stared across the front-room. The orange of the firelight flickered off his snowy mane, making him look like an otherworldly entity, but all Yennefer could see was the clench of his jaw, the steel of his eyes, every tiny, imperceptible detail about the witcher that anyone else would have surely missed, but which Yennefer knew were the telltale signs that the monster hunter was trying hard not to crack. She had never truly seen Geralt cry, and she doubted this would be the time for that – but she could still see the rigid, vibrating lump of his adam's apple in his throat, and knew full well that this would not be an easy conversation, whenever he could summon the emotional strength to agree to confront it with her.
"You can't go to bed yet," Yennefer told him, lamely, trying to think of something to say that would not give away his distress. "You haven't even finished eating."
Geralt frowned at the argument, his gaze flicking to the half-finished spread, before his eyes returned to Yennefer again, his expression unchanging. "Not hungry," he told her. "Just tired. You and Shani finish what you want. Then give the rest to Marlene and Barnabas." He paused as he said this, thinking it over, before giving another soft grunt at the thought. "Never see them eat anything but quick, easy meals," he said, more to himself than Yennefer or their guest. "They work hard around here. They deserve expensive food." Then, having said his piece, he turned away from the table again, starting to make his way towards the master bedroom once more. As he reached the door, however, he found that he could not convince himself to take the handle; he could feel something drawing his attention back to the front-room, to the women still sitting at the table, and though he knew he would regret it, he could not keep from turning to look back at them one last time.
Yennefer's look of confusion and concern had mixed with a bit of ire by now, something he was used to from the fiery sorceress – but Shani's expression made his stomach clench, his heart freezing solid in his chest. He could handle Yennefer's indignation, her barbs, her exasperation and frustration, but the look on Shani's face was not one he had been prepared for, as much as he knew he deserved it. Rather than the usual look of worry he was so used to receiving from the soft-hearted doctor, the only thing he could see on Shani's face now was disappointment – detached, entirely justified disappointment, a response to a reaction she had surely known was coming. Just like before, just like every time before, this was simply one more instance of the fickle, flighty witcher finding any reason to leave when she had most depended on him to stay.
"See you in the morning, Shani," Geralt told her, quietly, feeling the knot of guilt tighten in his chest.
"Goodnight, Geralt," Shani returned, her voice still soft, making him feel even worse than before. He had hoped she might scold him at the noncommittal bidding, tell him off the way Yennefer would, give in to any instinct of anger and rip him apart for what he had done to her. He wanted to know what was on her mind, to gain some insight into how she felt about the whole situation – but sharing like that was not in Shani's nature, and though he usually agreed with the practice, right now he could not think of anything he hated more than being kept so thoroughly in the dark.
"Hm," Geralt answered, having nothing else to say. Then, turning back again, he disappeared through the door to the master bedroom.
Geralt had gone to bed facing the wall, towards the painting of the starry sky overlooking the Pontar, and though he had at one point tried to sleep, he found he could not convince his eyes to close. The events of the night were still too fresh to allow for sleep; too raw, too unbelievable, still festering and clawing like a necrophage that had burrowed its way down into his brain. The idea of accidentally impregnating someone was bad enough as it was, with his marital vows to Yennefer still cooling, their rings not even having had a chance to tarnish with the march of time – but the fact that it was Shani whose life he had ruined with his thoughtless actions just made it all the worse. He was certain Shani blamed him, and he could not fault her for it; with the way they had spoken when last they parted, the entire situation felt horribly twisted, as if he had somehow intentionally left her with one last token that she could never truly leave her past with the witcher behind.
He held his breath as he heard the creak of the master bedroom door again, listening to the soft sounds of Yennefer's feet entering the room across the hardwood threshold. "Geralt? Are you awake?" Yennefer asked, her voice soft as she closed the door behind her. Geralt quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping she would buy his ruse and not attempt to confront him; he knew he was a coward for avoiding her like this, but he still had no idea how to process what had just happened in the front-room, himself, and he had no desire to try and deconstruct the matter with Yennefer so soon after. It was a complicated matter, one he had never prepared for the eventuality of, and one he would never have guessed would occur just as they were trying to start a new life together. Not only that, but the idea of someone else having his child had to hurt like nothing else for Yennefer, and he was not certain he could handle hearing her say as much to his face right now.
Yennefer paused for a moment as she waited for an answer, the sound of her breathing slow and sad, before she finally gave up, letting out a soft sigh and turning instead to get ready for bed. Geralt could hear the sound of her undressing for sleep near the foot of the bed, and he had to resist looking down to catch a glimpse of the sorceress in her nearly-sheer nightgown. She had only begun to wear the nightgown since moving to Toussaint; Yennefer was proud of her body, and had always preferred to sleep in the nude, up until she had spotted the nightdress in a boutique in Beauclair and had fallen in love with the garment. Geralt had gladly purchased it for her, as much for his own selfish benefit as for hers; in truth, he had grown so used to the sight of her walking around his bed-chambers in the nude that it had become almost predictable to see her that way. But seeing her dressed in something like this, something that so delicately covered every piece he wished to put his mouth on, made the thought of undressing her so exciting that he had had to be scolded a few times since her purchase not to stain her outfit with his enthusiasm.
Geralt could feel the mattress moving as Yennefer at last climbed into bed beside him, curling up under the freshly-laundered sheets and pressing her warm back up against his. He liked when they slept this way, surprisingly; though he had grown used to sleeping with Yennefer's head against his chest, her raven locks spread like softest silk over the battlemap of his scars, there was a certain intimacy sleeping back-to-back had which other positions did not. They could touch without seeing, listen without looking, hear one another's thoughts without having to rely on expressions. Perhaps that was why he liked this position, he thought; he could tell Yennefer how he felt without worrying that the same emotions were not properly reflected in his face. She had never given him grief about his inability to emote the way others did, of course, but he had grown self-conscious of his eccentricities over the years regardless, and he was not certain he could even visualize how the way he was feeling right now was supposed to look.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as they lay together in the bed, the only sounds breaking the stillness of night the patter of rain on the roof and the thrum of Yennefer's heart beating a steady rhythm against Geralt's back. Her heartbeat was faster than normal, he noticed – an undeniable sign of distress – but he had already committed to pretending to sleep, and he did not want to go back on that now. As much as he wanted to console his wife, he needed time to process things on his own – and between the contract in the catacombs and the ride home in the rain, he was certain Yennefer could not blame him for supposedly having fallen asleep as soon as his head hit their downy pillows.
"I gave Shani the upstairs guest bed," Yennefer suddenly spoke again, quietly, though whether she knew he was awake or not was difficult to tell. "I figured she could stay there a while. At least until we figure out a more permanent place for her. Maybe that could just be her room here. It is rather nice, rather… spacious." She paused, her heart fluttering against his back, taking in a deep breath as she shifted her legs under the covers, searching for something to entwine them in. "There's room enough for a crib," she added, speaking clearly just to his presence now, rather than in the hopes that he might hear and respond. "I had thought to perhaps convert it whenever Ciri had her child, but… I know that's a silly thing to plan for. If Ciri had a child, she'd have it in Nilfgaard. I just thought maybe, if she ever came to visit after…"
She trailed off again, her voice growing distant, and Geralt could feel her heart spike in her chest, the thought of how very lonely the house seemed without Ciri hitting her again with an unexpected weight. He opened his eyes as he listened to her breathe, staring at the wall, at the swirls and dips of the Pontar Valley, the twinkling stars in the peaceful sky, wondering when the last time was that he and Yennefer had ever been allowed to enjoy anything so unassumingly simple. Everything was difficult and complicated for them; everything came with hidden stipulations. Not even the thought of their foster daughter bringing a child of her own into the world could come without the burden of heartbreak.
"She barely brought anything at all… Shani," Yennefer continued after a moment, changing the subject back again, sniffling softly as she fought back the first burning wells of tears from forming in her violet eyes. She was too stubborn to cry, he thought, even without anyone there to see her do it. "One horse and a chest of medical supplies. She has barely any clothes at all, though I figure she can wear mine, at least for a while. At least until…" She stopped again, a telling silence, and Geralt felt a tight knot of guilt in his stomach at the knowledge of what had been coming next. Yennefer had no maternity clothes; she had never had a need for them. Even so, he had sometimes caught her absentmindedly perusing them while they shopped in the boutiques of Novigrad, running her fingers over the soft, loose material before seeming to remember where she was and quickly moving to the next tight-fitting outfit, searching for a design in white or black.
"This could be a wonderful thing for us, Geralt," Yennefer suddenly spoke again, breaking the thoughtful silence, and Geralt could not help noticing there was something different in her tone this time, something a bit more hopeful. "A child in the house. I know we've never really thought about it before, but…" She paused again, trailing off once more, before a soft, sad sigh escaped her lips, and Geralt could feel a stitch of anguish twist in his gut at the thought of the face she had to be making. He knew Yennefer well enough by now that he could guess her expression by the sound of her voice: her wistful frown, her distant eyes, her soft, dark lashes half-hooded over her violet irises; the faint clenching of her jaw to fight back a lump in her throat she had no interest in entertaining the formation of. The thought of it all made him wish he could turn and embrace her, hold her close, kiss the part of her neck where it became her shoulder, breathe in her scent and make everything alright again – but he knew, even with all of that, it would never be alright. Not for Yennefer. Not truly.
Geralt could feel her shifting against him again as she turned in the bed, restless and sad, before she finally moved away from his side, causing him to nearly flinch as a cold breeze rushed down to fill the space between them. He wanted to reach out and pull her in again, hold her tightly against his skin, but if she needed her space, he was not going to be the one to deny it to her, even for his own peace of mind. "Goodnight, Geralt," she told him, quietly, before leaving him in silence to his thoughts and the painting, entirely alone.