It was a few more days before Shani allowed Geralt to remove the bandages from his neck, and he sighed in relief as he ran his hand over the healed-over skin, noting the lack of new scars. Scars were not usually something he cared about – in fact, he enjoyed most of the ones he had, as they reminded him of where he had been – but he had grown rather fond of the vampire-fang scars on his neck ever since Ciri had pointed them out, and he had worried the scratches from the hag might take their place once the bandages were removed. He was glad to see, then, that between Shani's care and the Swallow, the hag's nails had left barely a scratch, and he let out a satisfied grunt as he stared at his reflection in Yennefer's vanity mirror.

He looked older than the last time he had observed his reflection, but he otherwise looked much the same as he had when they first moved to Corvo Bianco; he had been a man with a dream then, a fanciful dream of settling down in a fairy-tale province where no turmoil could reach them. He had found that dream predictably short-lived, with the age in his face as evidence of that, and he let out a small huff of resignation as he realized he had spent a good five minutes just staring at himself in the mirror. He had almost forgotten the way he looked, with his sharp nose, his thin lips, and his angled jaw, and he made a face as he turned his head, trying to imagine how any child would look with his features.

It would have to be a boy, he reasoned; a girl would look too severe, too unapproachable, and he grimaced as he thought about how cruel children could be, before shaking the thought from his head and getting up to leave the bedroom.

Triss and Dandelion were conversing in the front-room as he made his way into the hall, and Triss looked up quickly as she saw him enter, immediately curtailing her conversation to turn her attention to the witcher instead. "Geralt," she greeted him, smiling brightly, causing Dandelion to turn and look back at him as well. "I was hoping you might come around sometime soon. I have something I need to give to you."

"Hopefully not more books," Geralt returned, dryly, moving to stand with the two of them. "Shani brought a ton into the house when she came. Can barely keep track of them all."

Triss gave a silvery laugh at his joke, one that sounded just off enough to make him suspect it might be fake, before she reached up to pull something from around her neck, holding it up for him and the bard to see. It was a necklace, a golden chain featuring a crystalline disc in a gold-plated casing, and Geralt frowned as the sorceress took his hand from his side, pressing the jewellery into his palm. "It's a portal amulet," she told him, watching as he stared at the disc, feeling it radiate against his palm. "Yen and I have been working to perfect it while you've been healing from your last adventure. Between Yen's mastery of portal spells, and my methods for converting magical effects into amulet-based alternatives—"

"Because of your potion allergy," Geralt observed, looking up at her again.

Triss nodded, seeming pleased that he had remembered that detail. "Right," she said, brightly. "Because of that, we decided to combine our magical expertise, and we've constructed an amulet which works as a portable portal of sorts—it's not a perfect specimen, but we have gotten it down to an accuracy of within a few miles of the projected destination. To activate the amulet and open the portal, you only need to touch it and speak the activation phrase – va aép – then speak the name of the place you want to go, and envision the destination in your mind."

"Fancy work," Dandelion commented, raising his feathered brows and whistling. "Would love to get one of those for myself. Never know when you'll need a quick way out of a sticky situation."

"Va aép?" Geralt asked, smirking up at Triss. "Little on the nose for one of Yen's spells."

Triss shrugged, returning the smirk, seeming a bit flustered that he had pointed it out. "Yes, well, we were a bit pressed for time, as you can imagine," she told him, still trying to sound nonchalant. "Anyway—the clearer the visual you have, the closer the portal will get you to it. If it's someplace you haven't been to yet, that admittedly gets a bit trickier… you would still speak the name of the place, but the spell will approximate the location to drop you off."

"Hm," Geralt grunted, narrowing his eyes. "Approximate me… inside a wall, you mean?"

Triss huffed, forcing a half-hearted chuckle. "Not… exactly," she said, scrunching her nose at the bleak joke. "It's been given a failsafe to ensure it deposits you in a place at least as large as yourself. Which means you won't be dropped inside a wall, per se—but a prison cell, or a crawlspace, or a pond… maybe." She paused at the thought, before reaching out to take the amulet from his hand again, sliding it over his head and letting it fall to his chest, hanging just below his wolf medallion.

"If I'm being honest, I wouldn't recommend using that function of the amulet just yet," she added, warily. "We haven't had a chance to totally perfect that part of the enchantment, since we've only been working on it a few days. Just use it to take you to landmarks you do know, for now—shouldn't be too hard, since you've been almost everywhere—and in the meantime, we'll work on perfecting the spell. Hopefully by the time you return from your second task."

Geralt frowned at the mention of the second task, before glancing over at Dandelion to see if the bard had reacted at all, but Dandelion only looked surprised, offering a shrug, clearly lost on the topic. "Yen told you about that?" Geralt asked, looking back at Triss, finding it hard to believe. He had never known Yennefer to be particularly chatty when it came to sharing sensitive details, but he supposed another opinion on the matter could not hurt, as he and his wife had last left the topic at a stalemate.

Triss sucked her lip at the thought, glancing between Geralt and Dandelion, as if looking for the right answer. "Only that you couldn't agree on a solution for it," she admitted after a moment, honestly. "As you know, Yen isn't exactly… forthcoming, when it comes to things like that."

"Hm," Geralt answered, letting out a short breath. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Triss nodded, looking pensive now, as if her mind were suddenly somewhere else, before she turned to look over at Dandelion again, offering him a polite smile, one she had clearly practiced during her time at court. "Dandelion," she addressed him, sweetly. "Could you be a dear and go check up on Shani? Last I saw her, she was in the day-room with Regis, and… you know how that man can pontificate."

Dandelion raised his brows at the request, looking a bit taken aback at having been asked, and he turned to look over at Geralt, as if hoping the witcher might offer some explanation. Geralt shrugged, having no idea what Triss wanted any more than the bard did, and Dandelion quickly nodded in response, before putting on a smile of his own, turning back to the sorceress. "I'll see what I can do to rescue her," he said, offering a cheery, toothy grin, before turning on his heel to head down the hall towards the day-room, leaving Geralt and Triss alone to talk.

Geralt frowned as he watched the bard depart, before letting out a grunt, turning to look at Triss again. "Don't know if sending Dandelion is the best idea," he observed, warily. "Just adding more fuel to the talkative fire."

"I just needed him to leave for a bit so we could have some privacy," Triss admitted, watching until Dandelion was completely out of sight. Then, turning to look at Geralt again, she took a deep breath, propping her hands anxiously on her hips. "There's… something I've been needing to talk to you about," she told him. "I don't know how much Yennefer has told you, but…" She paused, her sentence trailing off, before she tucked her arms around her, taking another wary breath. "Lately, we've been trying to get back in contact with members of the Lodge," she explained, cautiously. "It hasn't been easy—a lot of our members are scared to regroup, after… Radovid, and the events at Deireadh prison. Our numbers have dwindled to almost nothing, and those who are left are understandably afraid. They think they'll be the next to be targeted if they dare come out of hiding."

"Heard something about that," Geralt agreed. "Not much, though. Yen's been pretty tight-lipped on the matter."

"I'm not surprised," Triss answered, letting out a short, exasperated huff at the news. "She probably just didn't want to worry you. In truth, the results have been… disheartening. Francesca has ignored all my attempts to contact her… though that comes as no surprise, I guess. She's turned all her attention to matters of her people, restoration efforts for Dol Blathanna after the end of the Winter War." She stopped, her pink mouth twisting, trying to think of who else she had failed to connect with. "I don't know where Keira is," she admitted after a moment, wrinkling her freckled nose at the thought. "I've heard rumours, but… haven't had any luck in trying to contact her. So far the only members I've convinced to return have been Yennefer, Fringilla, Ida, Philippa, and Margarita."

"Ida?" Geralt asked, surprised to hear the name. "Thought she was helping Anna Strenger in the Blue Mountains."

"She is," Triss answered, nodding in agreement. "She's only been in contact via teleprojection. She's been helping our efforts as much as she can, but… there's only so much she can do, from where she is."

"Hm," Geralt said, his brow furrowing. "Mention anything about Anna?"

Triss frowned, taking a moment to think. "Not… much," she admitted after a while, sounding disappointed. "Though she did say Anna's been showing improvement lately. Some sort of breakthrough, just in the last week or so. She has no idea what caused it, but… she says Anna's doing much better now."

Geralt nodded, almost certain he knew what had caused the improvement, but not wanting to speculate in front of Triss. "And the rest of you… all here in Toussaint?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the unpleasant thought.

Triss nodded again. "Only recently," she admitted. "And only most of us. Philippa should be joining us here soon. We figure Toussaint is as safe a place as any to convene – crime is low here, and anti-mage sentiment is nearly nonexistent. With Ciri in charge of Nilfgaard, living in its vassal states has become almost… tolerable."

"Hm," Geralt answered, unable to help wondering how long it had been since the Lodge had first set up operations in Toussaint. It seemed strange to him that he would have missed that entirely, but he realized he had no reason to know about it. He had put his trust entirely in what Yennefer had told him, and she had outright refused to speak to Fringilla in his presence. The reaction had seemed, at the time, a reasonable – if petty – response to his own actions, but now he could not help but wonder if the truth was far different, and if Yennefer had simply been doing everything in her power to keep knowledge of the Lodge from his sight.

"Six out of eight's not bad," he said, deciding not to voice his thoughts in front of Triss.

"Six out of nine," Triss corrected, letting out a sigh. "Ciri is a member, too, technically speaking. And—Ida's really only consulting, so it's more like five. Five out of nine returning members. Which doesn't sound so bad, until you consider that our number of less than ten years ago was twelve. Five is less than half."

Geralt grunted at the number, not quite sure how she expected him to react to news of the Lodge's return. He had never been a fan of the Lodge to begin with, but he could tell its current status was disheartening to Triss. "What're you hoping to accomplish by bringing back the Lodge?" he asked after a moment, unable to help himself. "Can't say any good came of it last time."

"We know more now, though," Triss answered, quickly. "And there's more need than ever now to keep watch over magical matters. There's something going on, Geralt. None of us know exactly what, but—we can feel it, all of us… some shift, some change in the air." She frowned as she said this, sliding her thumbnail across her lip, clearly resisting the urge to chew it in an endearing nervous habit. "Something is changing," she added after a moment. "Altering… growing. And we need to be prepared for it. That's what the Lodge is doing this time: trying to prepare as much as possible, for whenever that… something, happens."

She paused again as she said this, her green gaze lowering for a moment to a slat in the floor, before she looked up at Geralt once more, her expression much graver this time, as if finally ready to speak the truth. "You remember the Conjunction of the Spheres?" she asked, causing Geralt to raise a brow at the question.

"Remember reading about it," Geralt admitted, dryly. "Wasn't around to see it."

Triss huffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That's what I meant," she said, folding her arms again. "You remember the stories though, right? About reality colliding and tearing? The records of how it felt when the worlds convened, ripped each other apart, and things came pouring through?"

Geralt frowned at the question, thinking back to the books he had read on the subject over the years; the Conjunction had been part of his studies at Kaer Morhen, but he had never quite taken to it as a topic. It had always seemed strange and far-fetched, an event which held little relevance to the basis of their studies – something which explained how things came to be, but not how to deal with them now that they were. "Remember reading a book where they described it as ships at sea tossed into one another by a storm," he finally said, figuring the least he could do was humour her.

"And what always comes before a storm?" Triss asked, her intensity almost palpable.

Geralt shrugged. "Change in the air," he answered. "A shift. Feeling that something's not right, and the sky's about to open." He paused, realizing how eerily familiar that sounded to what he had been feeling lately – the strange, inexplicable sensation that something was happening, though he could not quite put his finger on what. Shani had admitted to feeling it too, as had Yennefer, which meant it was not entirely in his head, but the thought of a simple bad feeling being the harbinger of a major calamity was still a bit too much for him to accept. "Can't really be what you're expecting," he added, shaking his head at the thought. "Been no sign of anything lately that would indicate impending overlap. Things like that don't just happen—there are signs. Warnings. Premonitions, at the very least."

"As we're well aware," Triss returned, sounding annoyed that he would question her. "We don't just make these claims up on gut feelings, Geralt—you'll notice, this is the first you're hearing about it. We've been keeping this information close to the chest until we're absolutely sure it's something to be concerned about." She frowned, crossing her arms as she stared at him, looking much sterner than he could remember seeing her in recent years. "We've been keeping a close watch on the fabric of reality," she said, her voice solemn as she explained. "That's where Ida comes in. She's an Aen Saevherne. A sage, or—oracle, depending on your translation. She was the one who first contacted us to let us know that something was amiss."

Triss paused, thinning her lips as she tried to think of the best way to explain what she had been told. "We figured it had something to do with the near-Conjunction that happened during the Winter War," she said after a moment, letting out a wary breath. "But… she said that wasn't it. It was… something that only started happening a few months ago. Around the same time Shani moved in with you and Yen, if I'm remembering right. It was as if… everything had shifted at once, things that would usually take thousands—possibly millions of years."

"Shifted how?" Geralt asked, his brow furrowing deeper, still finding her story hard to believe. "Did Ida actually see reality tearing?"

"Well… no," Triss answered, her cheeks growing pink as she tried her hardest to still sound confident. "But she says the fabric feels… weaker, somehow. It feels… off. Different from usual."

"Hm," Geralt grunted, looking down again. "Seems like wild speculation to me. Bringing the Lodge together to prepare for an apocalypse because of a feeling is—"

"Not the strangest thing the Lodge has done," Triss admitted, frankly. She paused, letting out a long sigh, pulling her shoulders up until they nearly hugged her ears. "We figure it's better to be prepared in the case of the worst than surprised when the worst happens unexpectedly," she explained.

Geralt frowned at the explanation. "Still think it's a lot to assume," he admitted. "Better than the alternative, at least."

"Which is?" Triss asked, looking up again in interest.

Geralt shrugged. "Getting back together just to piss me off."

Yennefer was not in the library when Geralt went to look for her there, and he frowned, starting to make his way back through the house as he tried to think of where else he might find her. She had taken to avoiding him ever since their confrontation over Ciri's Trial, and though he could not blame her, he found himself wondering if he might ever be able to have a normal conversation with her again. They had never been much for talking during the twenty-odd years of their relationship before marriage, but what talks they had had back then had been so much better than the fights over the last three months. It was like fire and ice with Yennefer these days – one day she seemed fine, and the next, she was upset again, and it only seemed to be getting worse as the date of Shani's delivery crept closer.

He could not keep his mind from wandering at the thought, going back to what Triss had told him – about the shift in the air, the palpable change that was causing everyone to feel tenser than usual. It was a very real feeling, and one he could not help suspecting might be contributing to his and Yennefer's fights of late, though he still found talk of a potential second Conjunction hard to swallow. Still, he could not help wondering what kind of world might follow such an event; there had been a near-collision of the spheres during the fight with the Hunt barely six months prior, with the frigid realm of the White Frost threatening to overtake their own, and while Ciri's actions had prevented that from happening, the Continent was still not quite back to the way it had been before.

He supposed it was not so far-fetched to think that such an event might have done irreparable harm to the fabric of reality, but he quickly shook the thought from his mind, telling himself it was ridiculous to consider such things. The world was fine, he told himself – he and everyone around him were simply tired. It did not take a world-ending cataclysm to make people feel out of sorts when they had a baby on the way to do that for them.

The sound of lute music wafting from the breakfast nook was a welcome distraction from his thoughts, and he paused for a moment to glance inside, watching as Regis and Dandelion pored together over a leaf of parchment on the table. Dandelion dragged his teeth across his lip as he stared at the page, looking like a pensive schoolboy, and Regis hummed as he spun a feathered quill between his long fingers, scrutinizing the bard's prose beside him. "Perhaps change out this word—'knew'—for a different one. 'Balanced', perhaps," Regis suggested. "It's more accurate to the two of them, I think, and it flows better with the added syllables."

Regis paused as he watched the bard scribble out the noted word, writing in the new one above it, before the vampire looked up, noticing Geralt standing in the entryway and offering him an amicable smile. "Have you come to help with our musical endeavour?" he asked, chuckling a bit at the thought.

Geralt snorted, shaking his head. "Can't carry a tune in a bucket," he answered. "You know that."

"I have heard you conversing in mermaid," Regis agreed, his thin smile curling a bit wider at the memory. "Though 'conversing' is probably not the word for it. Bleating—perhaps. A rather unpleasant conversation for the mermaids."

"Geralt!" Dandelion exclaimed, lifting his lute as he finally noticed the witcher standing in the entryway. "Come, listen! We've written more verses to that song you like so much."

"Which one?" Geralt asked, making his way into the breakfast-nook and sitting down at the table with the two of them. "The one where I beat off to the princess behind her back, or the one where I fuck a teenager?"

Dandelion scoffed, splaying his fingers across the strings of his lute over his chest. "Don't hate me for documenting what you've already done," he said, giving an offended sniff. "Come on now, listen! I think you'll like it. It's my finest work to date, if I do say so myself."

"Perhaps not quite yet," Regis chuckled, giving the quill another thoughtful spin between his fingers. "It's only two verses and a chorus, as yet. Perhaps wait until it's a bit more complete."

"Oh, what do you know about music?" Dandelion huffed, giving the vampire a good-natured glare. Then, holding up his lute again, he cleared his throat, before beginning in on his verse:

"Red hair like the rowan, a bud on the vine—healed all but his heart, for he had none to heal;
But years gave him sight, and they chanced reunite—and he found, suddenly, he had something to feel. O'fate, o'fate, from the humbl'est start—'twixt a rowan so red, and a wand'ring heart;
A heroic yarn, or a fearful spell—o'fate, only time will tell. But witcher he was, and witcher he stay'd—though he longed for a life where his foils could rest;
For a simpler life, with a vineyard and wife—for the fair lilac lover who balanced him best.
Yet he knew in his heart that the peace couldn't last—for wherever there's monsters, there's always a need;
And such work did arise, though there came a surprise—the return of his rowan, a-bloom with his seed! O'fate, o'fate, from the humbl'est start—'twixt a rowan so red, and a wand'ring heart;
A heroic yarn, or a fearful spell—o'fate, only time will tell."

Geralt frowned at the end of the song, trying hard not to make a face during Dandelion's performance, and the bard looked up with a smile as he finished, pressing his hand excitedly to the bridge of his lute. "Well?" he asked. "Do you like it? I'm trying to record events as they occur. It might take me a bit to catch up to where we are, but it's a challenge I'm prepared to undertake."

"Told you I didn't want you turning this thing with Shani into a song," Geralt returned, frustrated. "Don't want the whole world knowing our business. Bad enough that you turn everything else into verse."

Dandelion's gleeful expression immediately fell at the witcher's words, and he lowered his lute to his lap, pushing the parchment aside towards Regis again. "So what did you come in here for, Geralt?" he asked, lifting his chin with an affronted sniff. "If it was to hurt my feelings, then I'd say you've succeeded masterfully."

"Not specifically," Geralt answered. "Was looking for Yen. Hoped you two might've seen her."

"Not for a little while," Regis admitted, turning to glance towards the manor's front door. "Last I saw her, she was headed for the garden. You might still catch her out there, if she hasn't returned."

"Thanks, Regis," Geralt said, getting up from the table again. Then, pausing, he turned to Dandelion, before pointing to the paper still sitting in front of Regis. "Tune's good," he told him. "Just maybe leave out the part about my… seed. And don't perform it anywhere until after everything's done. Don't want this spreading further than it already has."

"A-hah!" Dandelion beamed, perking up instantly with a gleeful grip on his lute. "I told you you liked the song! Though you can't dictate art, Geralt. The lyrics will go where they will."

Geralt sighed at the bard's predictable answer, before turning to leave the nook again, making his way instead for the door of the manor and heading out across the grounds to the garden.

Yennefer was sitting on a bench in the garden when Geralt found her, just as Regis had said she might be, and he paused as he started to approach, wondering if now was truly the best time to disturb her. She looked to be deep in thought, her expression distant, watching as a butterfly flapped lazily on a rose-petal, and he cleared his throat quietly as he took another step closer, hoping to get her attention without startling her.

"Yen—"

"If you've come to insult me again, Geralt, I wish you wouldn't," Yennefer interrupted him, coldly. She pursed her lips as she answered, refusing to look at him, and he let out a long sigh, realizing this would be harder than anticipated.

"Didn't come to insult you," Geralt returned, honestly. "Came to talk. Triss told me about Ida. Her predictions."

Yennefer paused, seeming to debate for a moment whether or not to take the bait. "About how she assumes we're to have another apocalypse?" she finally guessed, letting out an incredulous huff. She frowned, crossing her leg over her knee and bouncing her foot in an irritated rhythm, and Geralt watched as she sucked her lip, seeming to be deciding how best to answer. "The fabric of reality is always in flux," she said after a while, sounding annoyed to have to explain it. "A weakening or strengthening of it day by day is not a harbinger of the end of times. People mess with reality every day in their attempts to channel chaos to their bidding—hydromancy, haruspicy, goëtia. It's not commendable, but humans have never historically looked out for their own best interests. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if your demon friend's reappearance in this plane coincided with Ida's first vision."

"Not my friend," Geralt answered, moving to sit cautiously on the bench beside his wife. "Timeline seems right, though. Said he'd only come back recently when I talked to him in the forest."

Yennefer huffed, pursing her lips again, seeming to ignore her husband's commentary. "One being coming through from another plane is hardly the start of an apocalypse," she added, annoyedly. "But the others never see fit to listen when I point that out. They keep bringing up the Wild Hunt as a counterpoint. And while yes, the Hunt did try to cause a second Conjunction in an effort to bring the Aen Elle to our plane, they were ultimately unsuccessful. As I keep telling the other members, it takes much more than the efforts of one being – even several beings – to break the Spiral at that level."

Geralt frowned, thinking back to the battle with the Hunt, remembering the way the sky had threatened to split over the battlefield; remembering the deathly, otherworldly cold against his skin as he crossed swords with Eredin for the final time. It had taken the efforts of an army to push them back enough to allow Ciri to do her part, but it had ultimately been Ciri who had stopped the Conjunction, Ciri who had leapt through the portal to face the White Frost. Yet, Yennefer was right – it took more than the efforts of one to start the wheels turning on such an apocalyptic scale, and he could not help wondering if the same was true in the other sense, and if the efforts of one were truly enough to stop the wheels once they were in motion.

Yennefer did not seem to notice his expression, and she wrinkled her nose in disdain, thinning her lips in an icy line as she focused on her own train of thought. "Suffice to say, I have my doubts about the Lodge's concerns," she added, shaking her head. "I just don't think a slight weakening of the fabric is enough to call an entire Lodge summit over."

"What about Triss' artefact?" Geralt asked, folding his hands between his knees. "That enough to call a summit over? Or don't think that's a big deal, either?"

Yennefer paused at the question, taking a deep breath and holding it, as if in an effort to calm her nerves. "The plate was… surprising," she admitted after a moment, letting out her breath again in a long exhale. "I hadn't expected to see another one. In truth, I'd nearly forgotten about yours until she showed me hers. I'd wanted to ask you about it, but… Triss asked me not to. She wanted to be respectful of Eskel's request." She frowned, pursing her lips, before letting out another wary huff of breath. "…Though I suppose our efforts were in vain regardless," she added. "As you got wind of it somehow. As you always do."

Uncrossing her legs again, she smoothed her jacket, ensuring it had not creased, before she let out another sigh, looking over at Geralt for the first time in their conversation. "Either way, I wasn't keeping these things from you because I thought you would object, or because they were some great secret," she told him. "I was merely trying to be respectful of Triss' wishes, and… well. The other thing I simply didn't think was to be taken seriously at all." She let out a soft huff at the last thought, folding her hands in her lap as she looked out towards the garden again.

"I've spent enough time around you and your nonsense that I've learned to be a bit more sceptical of such things," she explained. "Though I suppose I should apologize for keeping you in the dark. I hadn't meant to deceive you, but it seems that's what happened, anyway."

"No need to apologize," Geralt told her, causing her to look over at him again, furrowing her brow. "Would've done the same thing, in your shoes. Couldn't take Triss' Conjunction story seriously, either." He paused as he finished, pressing his fingertips together, before taking another deep, steeling breath. "Speaking of apologies—"

"Don't bother, Geralt," Yennefer answered, quickly. "I've heard it all before."

"No. Please, Yen. Just listen."

Yennefer held her breath at his plea, before finally letting out a resigned sigh, turning to face him with a painstaking stare. "Go on, then," she told him, sounding already bored. "I'm listening. Go on and apologize."

Geralt faltered at the icy invitation, but held his ground, not letting himself be put off by her tone; she had every reason to doubt his sincerity, he knew, but he was determined to prove her wrong. "I'm sorry, Yen," he began, causing her to roll her eyes at the expected lead-in. "Know I've said that before. Lots of times. Been pretty bad at keeping track. Guess I've said it so many times that… kinda lost its meaning. Doesn't hold much weight anymore. But…" He paused, thinning his lips into a hard gash, taking another deep breath to steady himself.

"Can't… let that be how it is anymore," he said, causing her to look up again, tentatively interested. "Can't just say 'sorry' and expect it to fix things. Not living day by day anymore. We're not 'you' and 'me' anymore, we're… 'us'. Can't keep breaking that and expecting it to be okay. Guess we… spent so long thinking of ourselves as two people who could never be happy, that we… never figured out how to be."

"That's very profound of you, Geralt," Yennefer answered, still sounding unmoved by his speech.

"Not trying to be profound," Geralt answered, trying not to be annoyed by her cynicism. "Just trying to be honest. Only ever knew how to live, how to survive. Us against death, never us against… life. Never figured out how to give and take. Only take, and take, and take." He frowned at the thought, staring down at his hand, at the wedding-band around his finger, and he could almost feel Yennefer's gaze softening a bit as she watched him, waiting for him to say something else. "That's what marriage is, though," he continued, letting out a soft sigh. "A balancing act. Back and forth. Guess I thought getting married would just be… same as always, just with rings. But it's not. It's something else entirely."

Geralt paused again, staring down at his ring, before he shook his head, letting his hand fall to his side again. "I get now why you wouldn't marry me for so long," he said, looking up at Yennefer again. "I'm not a good husband, Yen. Don't know how to be. But I wanna learn. Wanna try. Wanna be better, because…" He swallowed, feeling a dryness in his throat as he stared across at Yennefer, meeting her gaze; she was silent now, all anger gone from her face, her posture softer, less rigid than it had been before. "Because… that's what you deserve," he told her. "Deserve the world from me, and I… need to learn how to give it to you. And if you're angry at me for not walking away from O'Dimm and taking his first deal…"

He stopped, bracing his lips, taking in a deep, thoughtful breath through his nose. "Wouldn't blame you for it," he said, shaking his head wearily at the thought. "Angry at myself. Just wish… none of this'd happened. Wish it could all go back to the way it was. Before O'Dimm… before any of this."

Yennefer paused as he finished, taking a moment to stare at him, absorbing all he had said, before she let out a soft sigh of her own, dropping her gaze to her lap and shaking her head. "I wouldn't have wanted you to walk away from O'Dimm," she told him, smoothing her trousers thoughtfully as she spoke. "He's evil, and I don't trust his motives. I don't doubt there would've been something just as bad waiting for you if you'd allowed him his freedom unchecked."

"Then what can I do to make this up to you?" Geralt insisted, sliding a bit closer on the bench. "Tell me. Anything. I'll do it."

"Anything?" Yennefer asked, looking up again.

Geralt nodded. "Anything at all," he answered, earnestly.

Yennefer took a deep breath, turning her violet gaze to rest on the flower garden instead. "Stop trying to make it up to me," she told him, the starkness of her answer taking him by surprise. Geralt faltered, staring at his wife for a moment, sure he had heard her incorrectly – but she soon turned to look at him again, her expression firm, making him realize he had heard her exactly. "There's nothing you can do to make it up to me," she repeated. "That's not a punishment, it's just the truth. Things have changed, and they'll never be the same again. That doesn't mean things can't still be good, possibly even better. Only that… things are different, now. That's just how it is, and no one can change that."

Geralt frowned, wanting to argue, but found he had nothing to say. Yennefer was absolutely right: something had changed in their dynamic with the addition of Shani, and even if she were to leave after her child's birth, they would never be completely the same again. He had altered something with his actions, something that itched at both of their hidden longings, bringing them both something they had wanted so much – him, a sense of adventure in a life stagnant with wine and pâté, and her, the opportunity to prepare for a new life being brought into the world. He had laid those things out before them, tempting them until it became too much to bear, giving in even with the horrible knowledge that it would all disappear again once the tasks were complete.

They had exposed themselves, he realized; him, showing that he would never be quite satisfied with a life of peace and quiet, and Yennefer, that she would never be quite satisfied with the children in her life until the child she held was her own.

Yennefer took another deep breath, seeming just as lost in thought as her husband, before she rested her hands together in her lap, staring down at the ring on her own slender finger. "If you want the truth…" she said, causing him to look up again, only for her to pause, seeming unsure what to say. She frowned, her pretty brow creasing, before she thinned her ruby lips, taking another breath to try again. "I'm hurt, Geralt," she told him, letting out a sigh that sounded like a release of all the air in her lungs. "That's really all there is to it. I'm hurt that you moved on so quickly after we separated— even though I said you could. I'm aware I did. Which is why I've been trying to be understanding all this time. You did nothing wrong, technically speaking. I suppose…"

She paused again, her lips pursing, seeming unsure where she meant to go with her statement. "I suppose… I'd just hoped you might resist, and wait for me to return," she admitted after a moment, self-consciously. "That you might take the time to consider what went wrong that we became so empty without Ciri around to fulfil us."

She stared at her hands in her lap, seeming unwilling or unable to meet her husband's eyes, before she finally swallowed back a difficult breath, curling her hands in towards her as she pressed her knees anxiously together. "For so long, at the beginning, we were bound by… sex. Just sex," she continued, surprising Geralt to hear her go on. "I suppose it was refreshing for a while, having someone captivated by my beauty, rather than just wanting to use me for my magical ability. You were different, and I liked that. You liked me for me. Or, the me I had created. I wanted to be adored for that. But… I realized quickly that was all we had in common, and… I couldn't help myself. I wanted more."

She paused again, sucking her lip, before she finally furrowed her brow, standing from the bench to take a few anxious steps towards the nearest floral arch. "It was… surprising that you didn't run away when I began to share more of myself with you," she admitted after a moment, her voice quieter. "My hopes, my dreams, my interests in… unusual topics. My anger, my pain. The ugly side of my duties to the Lodge. You weren't… thrilled, to know those things, but you listened. You learned. Then along came Ciri, and I…" She stopped, trailing off again, her violet eyes falling to the flowers as she thought back to the first time she had laid eyes on Ciri – the cantankerous little sparrow she had been brought in to train, but had eventually come to love more than life itself.

"I suppose… I became willing to overlook a lot of things, if only to have both of you in my life," she admitted after a moment. "A man who listened, and a daughter who I could shape, could teach… could protect as if she were my own, even though I knew in my heart she wasn't." She stopped again, her lips pursing, trying to hide a faint tremble she refused to let shake her composure, and Geralt listened in silence, realizing how rare it was to hear insight like this from his wife. Yennefer had no shyness of words on a regular basis, but they were usually used to give what-for to those who frustrated her, and he furrowed his brow, wondering if he might never have heard any of this had he let her turn him away with her initial cold shoulder.

"I… want children more than anything Geralt," Yennefer continued after a moment, causing him to look up again, his expression lifting. "You know I always have. It's all I've ever wanted. And I… selfishly cast Ciri in that role. I didn't consider what weight it might put on her, or how it would affect me when she was finally gone. I knew she'd have to go eventually, but it just… never occurred to me it would be so soon." She fell silent again at the thought, staring out towards the garden, before she finally lowered her head, crossing her arms to hold herself tightly.

"You know I love Shani, Geralt," she told him, shaking her head so her dark hair fell over her shoulder, hiding her face. "She's a good woman. She's smart, and kind, and surprisingly funny, for someone of her profession. And every day I tell myself I'm happy for her, and for you, and for the child you have together. It's a wonderful thing to be witness to, and I wouldn't take it away from her for the world. But…"

Yennefer trailed off, pursing her lips as she took a deep breath, holding back a surge of emotion, and Geralt pushed himself up from the bench, taking a wary step closer as he saw her shoulders lock, doing their best not to shake. "I'm sorry," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear as she took another unsteady breath. "It's just… so hard to smile sometimes, knowing the only children in my life will never be my own. Watching someone else have a baby with my husband, something I've wanted for so long—something you've known I've wanted for so long…" She stopped, letting out a laboured breath, before she reached out a hand to the nearby archway, holding onto it as if to ground herself as she looked back towards her husband again.

"Sometimes… I do wish she'd never come," she admitted, trying hard to hold back the start of tears, but Geralt could tell how badly they wanted to fall, how pink her eyes had become in resisting them. "That we'd never known you'd gotten her pregnant at all. Which is… so selfish of me. I know that. But…" She paused, sucking her lip as she curled her fingers into the twisting stems of the arch. "I can't help wondering if I might not have had you all to myself," she admitted after a moment, her voice shaking a bit, quieter. "A clean break from the world, just like you promised, had Shani never come around. I wish no ill will on her – please don't mistake this for that – and I'm happy to provide whatever she needs for her child. But…"

She trailed off again, before looking down to the cobblestones, unable to keep eye contact with her husband as she spoke. "I can't help but wonder if her arrival might not have sparked something in you," she admitted, almost a whisper this time. "Some… reminder, of what you left behind. And I wonder, too, had you never gotten that reminder… if you might not have been satisfied with what you had." She fell silent at this, staring down at the walkway, before she finally looked up to meet his gaze again, and he felt his heart clench as he saw her eyes, earnest and vulnerable in their softness. He had not seen this side of her in quite some time, a side not hidden behind a pane of protective glass; a chilly divider meant to separate her fragile heart from a world that refused to know her.

"I know this life isn't adventurous, or dangerous, or even particularly eventful," Yennefer said after a moment, giving a soft huff. "But… it's a life I got to have with you, and no one else, for however short a time. And I can't help but be more than a bit jealous that you've allowed someone else to take that from me."

Geralt frowned as she continued, not knowing what to say, feeling his heart sink deeper with every word – he had not realized just how much his actions had hurt her, but now he saw there was so much more going on than he imagined. She had seemed so eager to help Shani, so insistent on taking her in and giving her everything she needed, that he never would have guessed that her true feelings were not the same as the ones she presented so adamantly. Still, he had to remember that she was only human, and there was only so much she could bear; only so many false smiles she could hide behind until she broke like anyone else.

"The day Shani arrived to Corvo Bianco… she said she never would have come, had she not known the child was yours," Yennefer continued, causing Geralt to look up again in surprise, having become distracted by his own thoughts. "And I couldn't help feeling – in that one, awful moment – that I wished she'd never realized it was yours, and that she'd continued to raise it on her own, without involving either of us in its life. It's so selfish of me to even think about a world where you'd never know your son. I know it is. But…"

She took a deep breath, before turning to look at him again, straightening her posture and lifting her chin, proudly. "I'm tired of not being honest," she told him, her voice wavering slightly, despite her determined stance. "I wish the child were mine, and that you'd never slept with Shani. I don't like to admit it, but… now you know."

Geralt stared at his wife for a moment, not sure how to respond to any of what she had said – she was finally being honest, which was what he had wanted, but now he had no idea what to say to her. The thought of his actions hurting her so badly ate at him, gnawing at his insides until they ached with guilt, and he swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a deep breath as he crossed his arms, preparing to speak. "Could… cause a miscarriage," he suggested, the words like knives across his tongue as he spoke. It was a vile thought, one he could barely believe had come from him, and he tasted bitterness in his mouth as he swallowed, urging himself to continue. "Regis knows how to… brew a potion. Could… put it in her drink. Make it look like an accident—"

"Don't even joke about that," Yennefer told him, looking up at him with frigid eyes. "It isn't funny. Especially after what happened with that sorceress the other week."

"I wasn't—" Geralt started to say, only to stop again as he saw his wife straighten, bristling.

"I said I don't want to hear it," Yennefer snapped, and Geralt quickly closed his mouth, glad to stop. "That's the end of it. I'll not stoop to anything so wicked just to sweep clean one of your mistakes." The sorceress huffed, leaning back against the archway, tilting her head so her dark hair curled around the climbing petals. "I don't want a child so desperately that I would kill another woman's child to get it," she told him, harshly. "And you don't really know me at all if you think I would even consider it. Even for a moment. …Though I suppose I don't really know you all that well, either, if you would suggest it. I thought you better than that, Geralt."

"I am better," Geralt answered, looking up at her again, sternly. "But I love you. Do anything for you, Yen. Even things you might hate me for. Don't want to harm Shani's baby – 'course I don't – but if you asked me to do it…" He paused, considering the spiteful thought, before shaking his head with a long sigh. "Dunno," he admitted. "Done plenty of awful things. All so I can get one more day with you. Don't regret any of them. Don't think you understand that, Yen. Do anything for you."

"I don't want that, Geralt!" Yennefer shot back, causing his brows to shoot up at the intensity of her objection. "I don't need that! Don't you understand? I don't need you to be prepared to kill a child for me, for Melitele's sake!" She scoffed, folding her arms tightly, before unfolding them again just as quickly, flustered and angry. "Why is this so hard for you to comprehend?" she insisted, the pitch of her voice rising a bit in exasperation. "All I ask is that you want to be with me, and don't make me doubt that every day. I want to feel like a priority to you, rather than the wife you come home to begrudgingly between contracts. Sometimes I feel you'd rather be with the monsters than with me. I don't want to feel that way anymore."

Geralt faltered, feeling a bit as if the wind had been knocked from him at her words, and he tightened his lips to a stark line, waiting in humbled silence for her to continue. He had nothing of value to add, nothing to say to argue her points – she was right, and he was ashamed he had not had the sense to realize it before. He had been so willing to go to hell and back for her that he had overlooked the smaller steps along the way, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, resting his hands on his hips as he waited for her to speak again.

Yennefer took a long breath in his silence, brushing a hand back through her flustered hair, before she let out her breath again in a tired sigh, returning her hands wearily to her hips. "I know you have to go soon," she told him, her voice much quieter than before, surprising him with its softness. "And I don't want you to leave with us having just fought. If something happened to you afterward… I'd never forgive myself." She paused, allowing her gaze to drift again as she tried to think of what to say, before she took another deep breath, her pretty brow furrowing as she stared out over the garden.

"Before you go, I'd… like to know one thing," she told him, speaking quietly, so soft he had to lean in a bit to hear her. "It's… something that's been on my mind lately, though I've never asked about it before. I'd never truly wanted to know before, honestly… I'd never really cared that much in most instances, but…" She paused again, her lips thinning, before she turned to look back at Geralt again, her eyes solemn as she stared across at him in earnest. "Why?" she asked, her voice so quiet he barely recognized it as her own. "Why did you sleep around so much during the years we were together? I know you've told me that witchers have increased libido, and it's only in your nature, but… why did you do it anyway, knowing how much it would hurt me if I ever found out? And I always find out, Geralt. You're terrible at keeping secrets. It's one of the things I love most about you."

Geralt frowned at the observation, remembering all the times Yennefer had read him like a book at the worst possible moments – times he had suspected her of reading his mind, when in reality it seemed she had simply figured out how to read his indecipherable expressions. "So why did you do it?" she pressed, her tone softer now, vulnerable, almost pleading. "Was it because of me? Was it because I wasn't enough to keep you happy?"

Geralt felt his gut clench at her words, a cold, sick sensation creeping over him as he stood before her; he had grown so used to her scolding, her barbs, that to see her like this was almost too much to bear. He had caused this, he knew – he had broken her heart, and now he was being forced to answer for it, and he felt guilt resting heavy on his chest as he stared at her, trying to think of what to say. There was nothing to say, he realized— she was right, and she had every reason to be upset with him, as there was no explanation that justified the way he had treated her over the years. He had only ever thought of her after everything was done – an afterthought, just as she had said before Triss' arrival. Not once had his mind gone to her before the act, stopping him from saying yes. Stopping him from giving in, from taking of others without restraint, from hurting her in ways no one deserved to be hurt, over and over again.

He was seen as an animal because he acted like an animal, but even animals were habitually loyal to their mates, and he was surprised, looking back, that this was the first time she had sat him down, forcing him to talk like this. Forcing him to examine the way he had acted towards her over the years they had been together. Asking him what he felt justified the way he had treated her in all that time. Her, the woman he had convinced himself he could never live without. The woman he, within hours of meeting, had bound to himself, potentially forever. The woman whose destiny he had forced to entwine with his own, only to betray her at every turn.

"Yen…" Geralt started to say, only to realize he had no words. "…No. That's not it."

"Then what, Geralt?" Yennefer insisted, quietly. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"I had amnesia," Geralt said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "No memory of you. Nothing to compare to. Nothing to know I was missing."

"And the other times?" Yennefer returned, not satisfied, taking a step away from the floral arch. "The times when you didn't have amnesia? Before Ciri brought us back, and then after you regained your memories?"

Geralt's frown deepened at the questions, realizing he had no ground to stand on. "Don't… know," he finally answered, knowing there was no other way around it. Yennefer wanted honesty, and after everything he had put her through, he felt she deserved it. He was determined to give her the truth now, even if it meant breaking everything he had fought so hard to build – everything he had gained with her over the months since the Hunt, ever since their lives had been thrown into flux by Ciri's leaving.

"Guess… just blind to what I had to lose," Geralt admitted after a moment, quietly. "When you're told your whole life no one wants you, then suddenly people do… feels good. Feels damn good. At least for a moment. Then, once it's over…" He stopped, his expression twisting, trying to find words for something he had never spoken aloud. "Easy to get addicted," he said after a moment, letting out a breath. "Crave it. Give in, at whatever opportunity. Knew I shouldn't, but… couldn't help myself. Like a starving dog, put in front of a feast. When somebody wants you like that… hard not to just… take everything you're given. Even knowing what's at risk. Knowing you might lose the one thing you need most because of it."

He fell silent again as he said this, before his gaze began to lower, finding it impossible to keep eye contact with his wife; it hurt to admit any of this, but he was sure whatever pain he felt was nothing compared to hers. Yennefer scowled at the answer, taking a moment to think before answering back. "You know I know how that feels," she told him, shortly. "To be wanted by no one, and then suddenly everyone."

"I know," Geralt answered, looking up again. "But you were also never told you couldn't feel emotions. Harder to realize you've got something to lose when you're told you don't have it in the first place." He frowned, surprised by his own confession, but he knew he was not done speaking yet. "Warps your perception," he added, solemnly. "Hard to unlearn after a hundred years of believing it. But… feel like I always knew, a little bit. Always something lingering at the back of my mind. Witchers aren't monsters, as much as people say they are. We're people too, and we fuck up. Like anyone else."

He let out a hard breath at his words, running an anxious hand through his hair as he stared at the ground; he could feel his heart racing, but he realized that it was finally time to face the truth. "There's no excuse for it," he added after a moment, looking up again and extending an exasperated hand. "Had no control. Fucked around on everyone. Fucked Dandelion's friend Essi, and he never knew. Fucked Shani, when she was only seventeen. Fucked Iola, Nenneke's protégé, after the Temple took me in to help me. Even after the archpriestess said it wasn't appropriate—didn't care. Fucked her anyway."

Geralt ground his teeth as he continued, feeling guilt start to bubble in his chest like burning oil, but he swallowed the feeling down, taking another breath as he prepared to keep going. "Fucked Triss, and Fringilla, and Coral," he went on, hearing his own voice shake faintly for the first time. "Even fucked Coral's apprentice, Mozaïk. Didn't even want to, just did. Just to see Coral squirm. And she did squirm—right before she mutilated that poor girl. Because of me. Fucked Diedre…" He stopped at the mention of Diedre, holding his breath for a moment, before letting it out again in a remorseful sigh. "Still regret that, to this day," he added, quieter. "Should never've done that to her. Or Eskel."

Geralt paused again as he finished, before looking up, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten as he watched Yennefer's expression: the thinning of her lips, the stiffness of her jaw as she gritted her teeth, listening to his list. She hated to hear this as much as he did, he knew, and he wished he could wipe the air clean of it, banish it – but that was not the way things worked, and now he had to stand and face his failures, stand in the midst of his actions and hold them on his shoulders in full view of the woman he loved.

"I can't tell if this is an apology, or a list of conquests," Yennefer admitted after a moment, her tone frigid.

"It's an apology," Geralt answered, shortly, annoyed at the hard response. "Just saying – even when we weren't together… still hurt people. Not just you. I was a terrible friend, Yen—a terrible person. Didn't deserve any of the people who loved me back then. Wouldn't deserve them now, if I was still the same—but I'm not. Not that person anymore." He took a deep breath, starting to feel warmth returning to his cold extremities; he could feel his hands shaking with nerves, but he held them to his sides, pressing them to his trousers to still them. "Don't want to be that person anymore," he told her. "But can't keep blaming myself for the person I was. That person is gone, Yen. He's never coming back. And neither are the horrible things he did."

Geralt paused, staring a moment as his wife, waiting for some reaction to any of what he was saying, but she only stood as still as before, her hand resting patiently on the floral arch as she waited for him to continue. "Can't change unless you let me," he told her, his voice quieter now, feeling his heart inching towards his throat as he spoke. "Not asking you to forgive me. What I did. Know I've talked myself blue trying to justify it before. But there's no justification. I was a bad person. Didn't care what I did, who I hurt with it. But I'm not that person anymore. And all I can ask is for you to give me a chance to be better going forward."

He stopped, staring across at Yennefer, letting a moment of hopeful silence fall between them at his plea, before a sudden sense of lightness began to creep over him, a murmur in his chest at the sight of her standing before him. She was here, he realized – she was his – and he was the luckiest man on the Continent for it. He was married to Yennefer of Vengerburg, and he swelled with pride, shocked the thought had never quite struck him that way before. "Never loved anyone the way I love you," he told her, causing her raise her brows at the claim, warily. "Even Fringilla couldn't change my mind. Couldn't stop thinking about you the whole time I was with her."

Yennefer frowned at this, but he could sense a certain curiosity in her features this time, and he grinned, taking a few steps closer across the garden path and leaning in to her until his lips nearly brushed her ear. "Even called her by your name a few times," he whispered. "Don't think she was too happy about that."

Yennefer's cheeks turned pink at this, but she held her expression, unwilling to give a reaction. "I'm insulted you would make that mistake," she returned, trying to hide the faintest vindication in her voice. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Geralt's grin widened. "Thought it might," he answered. "Since it was in the bedroom."

Yennefer pursed her lips, considering. "Well… it does," she admitted after a moment, letting out a huff. "Serves her right, covetous bitch. That will certainly make it easier to face her next I see her."

Geralt bit his tongue, holding back from laughing in surprise at the sorceress' answer – he did not want her thinking he was enjoying this too much, not when they finally seemed to be on the same page. Gathering her silky hair off her shoulder, he leaned in, kissing her ivory skin, trailing his lips from her shoulder to her collar-bone as he breathed in her florid scent. Yennefer hummed as he kissed her, leaning stiffly into his hand as he slid it across her back, before she tilted back her head, allowing him to kiss his way across her chest, up her neck and over her jawline.

"I'm upset with you, Geralt," she told him, sternly, biting her lip as she felt his beard tickle her cheek.

"I know," Geralt answered, his breath hot against her skin. "I deserve it."

Kissing his way across her face, he made his way to her flowery lips, tilting her chin up with a touch of his hand as he kissed her, tasting the fragrance of White Wolf on her tongue. Cupping his other hand around her breast, he squeezed it, gently, massaging it in his palm, causing her to gasp softly into his lips as he found her delicate nipple. He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles over her blouse, coaxing her nipple to attention, before he moved his other hand down her slender waist, prying her pants open just enough to slide his hand down into her panties. Yennefer gave a soft moan as he entered her with his fingers, her teeth scraping gently across his lower lip as he kissed her, and he pressed inside her, feeling her breath in his mouth as she rocked into the motion of his touch.

"Don't think you'll soften me up with this," Yennefer breathed, giving another low moan and shudder, before leaning into him as he repeated the motion, sliding up inside her.

Geralt grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it," he answered, reaching up to unlace her jacket next, coaxing it open with his one free hand and starting to slide it down her slender shoulders. Kissing her fingers first, he moved next to her shoulder, before making his way down to her breasts, dragging her blouse down with his thumb to let them bound freely into the crisp garden air. Kissing his way around one breast, he teased her rosy nipple with his teeth, before moving to nip at the other one, his mouth wet and hungry against her skin as he worked deftly with his fingers between her legs.

"Geralt," Yennefer gasped, before moaning again, shuddering as she leaned into her husband's touch, and Geralt kissed her collar-bone, her shoulder, clearing her hair from her neck to kiss his way around the back. He hummed low in his throat as he felt her give a jolt of pleasure against his hand, before he pulled his wet hand from her pants, watching as she opened her eyes to look up at him with surprised disappointment. Her expression did not have time to last, however, before he picked her up around the thighs, hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist, smacking her playfully on the ass as he began to carry her towards the flower-laden gazebo.

Yennefer yelped in surprise as she was spanked, before laughing merrily, folding her arms around her husband's neck, kissing every part of his face she could reach as she let him carry her wherever he chose. Scaling flowers covered the inner walls of the gazebo, choking all but a few beams of light from reaching the petal-laden floor, and Geralt stepped over piles of petals as he carried his wife to the gazebo swing, sitting her down gently and kissing her neck as she reached to take hold of the ropes. She could feel heat wafting off his lap in waves as he kneeled down in front of her, the eager outline of his cock pulling the lacing of his trousers taut, and she kissed his cheek, reaching down to tease him as she traced her fingers along the edge of his bulge.

She smirked as he let out a soft gasp, choking a bit at the strain of holding everything in, before he reached up, pulling her pants down her thighs and sliding her panties down over her knees to meet them. Yennefer gripped the ropes of the swing as he grabbed her ass with his sturdy hands, pressing his face into her warmth as she moaned, her toes curling inside her pointed boots. He was a master, and she could not keep her thighs from shuddering in his grasp, allowing a shock of pleasure to course through her as she felt his talented tongue inside her. She bit her lip as he worked, raking her teeth across the soft skin until it paled, letting out little gasps and keens as she rolled her head back, letting her long hair sweep off her neck.

His hands were rough and reassuring on her body, his sounds low and animal beneath her, arousing her, the warmth of his breath inside her making her thighs grow wet with excitement; she moaned as he worked, shuddering again, before her body gave a faint jolt, growing rigid for a moment in his grasp, and he let out a low, rumbling hum from between her legs as she felt the brush of his wet beard against the inside of her thighs. "Don't stop," she begged, reaching down to run her hands through his wild hair. "Don't go. Please… I know you must, but… stay with me a little while longer. Just a little while."

"Stay with you as long as you want," Geralt answered, kissing across her thighs. She could feel the wet trail of his beard over her stomach, his hands gentle as he slid them around her waist, and she let out a soft sigh as he kissed the base of her ribcage, his lips trailing over her slowly, taking in every inch he could find. Leaning down again to her feet, he began to unfasten her boots, taking special care not to do anything to them as he slid them off, setting them aside on the petal-laden floor. He kissed her dainty foot as it was freed, before undoing the other boot in the same way, setting it aside with the first before pulling her pants and panties down to join them.

Yennefer gripped the rope supports as she felt the cold garden air on her bare legs, before wrinkling her nose as she felt Geralt's tickling beard start to trail kisses up her slender calves. He was taking his time, she realized, making sure to cover every inch of her he could reach, and she watched him eagerly as he took hold of the rope supports, pulling himself back to his feet again. Taking hold of her blouse, he pulled it up over her head, allowing it to fall to the floor of the gazebo as well, and she let out a soft gasp as her breasts were freed, moaning as he teased her nipples with his tongue.

Geralt kissed his way over her collar-bone, resting her head in his hand as he kissed her neck, and he felt her give a low, shuddering breath as his hot cock pulsated eagerly against her thigh again. She knew how difficult this was for him, holding everything in like this, and she kissed his cheek, before reaching out to pull the laces of his trousers free at last. The bulge in his pants nearly burst against the eyelets as she loosened the knot holding it in, and he let out a sharp breath, feeling the pressure finally wane against his pulsing member. Sliding his pants and underwear to the floor, Geralt leaned in to kiss his wife again, feeling her slender fingers against his cock as she teased it, tormenting him with the faintest brushes of her hand.

Picking Yennefer up off the swing, Geralt lifted her to his hips again, feeling her legs curl eagerly around his waist as he sat down in the swing himself, giving a soft hiss at the feel of cold wood against his skin. Yennefer laughed at her husband's distress, and he chuckled good-naturedly at her delight, kissing her pillowy lips to stifle her as she wrapped her arms around his neck again. She gave a low moan as she slid down over him, slowly moving to encompass his pulsing cock, wrapping her legs across the back of the swing as she held fast to the ropes to support herself. He could feel her silky warmth sliding over him, her legs giving a faint shudder as he rose to meet her, and he thrust, setting the swing in motion, causing Yennefer to gasp as she felt him move inside of her.

She pressed her soft breasts against his bare chest, her dainty hands holding to the ropes as he gripped her hips, her hair wild across his face as she rode him, making everything smell of lilac and gooseberries. The swing shuddered against its supports with each new movement, causing a rain of petals to flutter down from the ceiling, but Geralt found he could not care less what effect their lovemaking was having on their surroundings. Yennefer slid down over him again, causing the swing to creak as he pushed up inside her, letting her do most of the work as he held her steady, making sure the swing did not pitch them both to the floor. It was strange, and awkward, and utterly irrational, but that was what he loved so much about his wife, he realized – she was impossible to deter, no matter what circumstances were thrown her way to discourage her.

She was a woman of worldly stubbornness, he thought; someone for whom the world had always tried to say no, but someone who had refused to accept that fate, insisting on making her own way despite them.

Geralt grunted as Yennefer rocked in his lap, his fingers digging eagerly into the flesh of her hips, and she gave a low moan as she rode him, her thighs shuddering against his as he pushed up deeper inside. Her hair was covered in petals by now, the smell of their bodies mingling with the scent of flowers, and the swing gave another creak as it moved again, pushed forward by the motion of their lovemaking. Geralt kissed his wife's neck as she rocked her hips against him, feeling the brush of her flawless skin against his scars, the searing violet of her eyes boring into his as he watched her move over him like an ethereal dryad.

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that – but there was so much more to her than her beauty. She was smart, and funny, her humour dry as a bone, sometimes putting even him to shame with her deadpan barbs. But she was also kind, and loving, willing to make sacrifices for those she cared about, something he might not have guessed of her when he had met her all those years ago, when she had been trying to harness the power of a djinn for her own means. She had wanted so much back then, and would not be satisfied until she had it all—but now, she was willing to give all of her happiness up if it meant seeing him or Ciri happy, just once.

Geralt faltered at the thought, moving his hands to her back as she pressed her face into his neck; he could feel her thighs shuddering hot against his as he gave another thrust, fucking her as the swing rocked beneath them. "Love you so much, Yen," he told her, causing her to shudder, breathing warm against his neck. "Everything I've ever wanted. From the first day I saw you. Never wanted anyone how I wanted you." He huffed, rocking into her warmth again, feeling her legs wrap tighter around his hips as he spoke, and she let out a hot breath against him, moving over him again until skin touched skin.

"Needed you," he told her, breathing heavier. "Needed you to challenge me. Make me see who I really was. Always half a man without you… no idea where I was going in life. You gave me a place to be. Right at your side, always. Gave me a reason to come home."

"I love you too, Geralt," Yennefer breathed, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face with shaking hands. She kissed him again, deeply, allowing him to drink her in, tasting the salty sweat of their efforts on her lips; he could feel himself getting close to climax, the warm friction of her body driving his senses wild – the taste of her breath on his tongue, the sweetness of her essence inside him, causing his heart to race as he held her hips, steadying her.

"You want twins," she suddenly spoke again, causing him to look up in surprise, feeling her shudder against his palms. "You've been thinking about it… even through everything else. A boy and a girl. Is that what you want?"

"What I've always wanted," Geralt answered, thrusting inside her again and hearing her keen in pleasure. She rolled her head back, letting her dark hair fall like curtains over her shoulders as she rode him, moving her hands to clasp over his on her thighs as he fucked her, matching her energy. She was reading his mind again, he realized, but he found he did not mind so much this time; he would never have had the courage to tell her about his want for children with her otherwise, not wanting to hurt her feelings. He had kept those thoughts hidden from her for so long, only bringing them forward when she was not around to see them, but now he realized how good it felt to share them with her, to let her know how much he wanted the same things she did.

"Once this is over… maybe we can adopt," he told her, almost panting as he swallowed back a lump in his throat. He could feel the white-hot tension building, but he did not want the moment to end just yet, not when there was still so much to say. "Tons of kids needing homes after the war. Take in as many as you want. Fill the house with kids. More than you could ever imagine. You'd make such a good mom, Yen."

"Yes," Yennefer panted, rocking into him again, her dark hair wild across her face, sticky with sweat. "Tell me what a good mother I'd be, Geralt. Tell me I'd make an amazing mother."

"You would be an amazing mother," Geralt agreed, causing Yennefer to roll her head back, moaning as she rode him. He could feel the wet streaks of her thighs against his, and he felt a sharp pain as the urge to come surged anew; her excitement aroused him, and she was so hot right now, so wet, that it made it hard to think of anything else. "I've seen how you are," he told her, gritting his teeth as a froth of pained spittle passed his lips. He could feel the saliva dripping down his beard, and he grimaced, giving another determined thrust inside her. "Seen how you are with Ciri," he said, barely managing to speak through the knot in his gut. "Love her like your own flesh and blood. Like nobody else. Can't imagine a better mother."

Yennefer let out a high-pitched laugh of ecstasy, her nails digging into his back as he thrust inside her, the sound of sweat against sweat and the smell of their bodies mingling turning the moment into a wild frenzy. She kissed him, desperately, panting, his spit and her sweat becoming one as their mouths collided, his hands pressing deep indents in her thighs as the swing gave a precarious creak and shudder again. "I love you, Yen," he told her, kissing her neck and holding her as she leaned back to let him kiss her breasts; she was a goddess in his arms, flowery and ethereal, with a crown of wild dark hair like the night sky.

"I know you do," Yennefer answered, biting her lip as he teased her breasts again. Her thighs burned with effort, but she could see him waiting, holding back until he knew she was ready for him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in close until their bodies sealed with sweat. "Make me a mother, Geralt," she whispered, her voice hot in his ear, causing him to shudder at the sound. "Give me what I've always wanted. It never hurts to try. Put a child inside of me."

Geralt let out a long breath at her words, pulling her in tightly as her legs wrapped around his hips, and he felt his body wrack with relief as he released, feeling her squirm at the sudden warmth inside of her. He could feel the tension leaving his body, released with the last few aftershocks of ecstasy, and he felt Yennefer's nails digging into his back, her face buried in his neck as she held him close. They had never been this intimate before, he realized – this close, this personal, this honest in their lovemaking – and he felt another shock run through him, causing him to shudder as he wrapped his arms around her slender back, burying his face in her petal-laden hair. She was soaked with sweat, and weary with effort, breathing heavily in his arms as her heart beat like a sparrow's against his palms, and he kissed her shoulder gently as he held her close, never wanting to let her go, never wanting the moment to end.

"Yen—"

CRACK.

A second's warning was all they got before the swing collapsed, sending them tumbling to the floor, followed by a rain of petals that nearly buried them as they lay, too shocked to move. There was an instant of silence as they sat in the pile of broken rope and flowers, before Yennefer let out a giddy laugh, grabbing a handful of petals and tossing them into Geralt's face. Geralt spat as the petals obscured his vision, clinging to his wet beard and sweaty hair, before he opened his eyes again, looking over to see Yennefer grinning gleefully across at him from where she sat. Picking up another handful of petals, she tossed them into the air, watching them flutter down, before she moved across the floor to kiss her husband again, sliding her arms around his neck as more petals fell to cover them.

Petals still clung to their hair and clothes as they made their way into the house for supper, and Geralt smirked as he pulled a petal from Yennefer's jacket, causing her to giggle softly as he set it beside his plate. They had left the broken swing on the floor of the gazebo, trusting that someone who knew how to fix it would see to their mess before too long, and they tried hard to hide their guilty grins as they ate, doing their best not to look like two teenagers still blushing from a first romp in the hay.

Shani sat across from them at the table, and she glanced down curiously at the petal by Geralt's plate, before she looked up again with an inquisitive smile, noting the dishevelled look of the witcher compared to the pristine sorceress beside him. "You look like you've been in a fight," she noted, chuckling at the observation. "Who won?"

"The swing," Geralt answered, picking up his fork, trying not to glance guiltily over at Yennefer as he spoke.

Shani paused, trying to remember where she had seen a swing on the property. "The one in the garden?" she finally asked, picking up her juice to take a sip.

Geralt nodded. "Mhm," he said, taking a bite of poultry. "Not built for heavy use."

"Oh, come now," Shani scolded, smiling across at him. "Don't disparage yourself. You're not that heavy."

Geralt looked up in surprise at the comment, his expression caught between concern and confusion, before he turned to look over at Yennefer, who was struggling not to laugh, hiding her stifled snorts in her napkin. "Hm," he said, spearing another bite of poultry. "Not yet, at least. Only a matter of time."

"There is such a thing as sympathetic pregnancy," Yennefer observed, smirking as she reached for her glass of wine. "First the weight comes on, then next he'll be complaining of morning nausea and seeking remedies for sensitive nipples."

"Don't want to talk about my nipples at dinner," Geralt grunted, glad to see Yennefer in such a good mood. She had laughed at his dour response, taking a cheerful sip of her wine, before he felt the warm weight of her hand on his thigh, and he smiled as he pressed his own hand over it, holding it tenderly under the table.

Dinner had proceeded with little incident after that, with Shani eventually moving her attention to Regis, discussing in an unusually lighthearted manner about which plants were known to counteract symptoms of the Catriona Plague. The Plague, Shani noted, had been prevalent in its present form for as long as she could remember practicing, but she had noticed an unusual spike in nonhuman cases about two years ago, during the start of the Third Northern War. Regis had hummed, noting that Foltest's softer approach towards nonhumans had likely provided some additional protections against those who might seek to target them for such things, but he had to wonder how anyone could have specifically targeted nonhumans with something so unpredictable as the spread of an illness.

Geralt had soon lost interest after this, turning his entire attention to his food instead, holding Yennefer's hand under the table as she perused her food one-handed beside him. They had eventually excused themselves from the table, making some pretext about Geralt needing to bathe, before they quickly retired to the master changing-room, doing their best to stay quiet as they readied for their bath. More water had been left on the floor than in the basin by the end of their lovemaking in the tub, and Geralt tousled his wet hair with a towel as he watched Yennefer collect their spilled water off the floor with her spell.

She was so beautiful, he thought, with her hair dripping in wild ringlets down her back, and he let his gaze trail over her slender form, noting every freckle and perfect imperfection. "Love you, Yen," he told her, causing her to turn, looking back at him in surprise.

"You needn't tell me every time we make love," Yennefer answered, turning back to concentrate on her spell again. "You'll concern me that you only care for me when I've spent time riding on top of you."

Geralt snorted at the observation, setting his towel aside to cross the floor to the sorceress, and he waited patiently as she finished her spell, settling the marble of water on the hill outside the property. Turning around to face him again, Yennefer huffed, looking over his naked form, before she reached out to touch a scar on his chest, letting her finger trail over the indent in his left pectoral. "Pogrom," Geralt noted, looking down to see what scar she was focused on. "Other's've kinda faded. Only got that one to remember it by."

"I remember where it came from," Yennefer agreed, sounding much more solemn as she stared at the scar. "I was only thinking about… how lucky we are. To be given this second chance."

Geralt nodded, taking her hand from his chest and bringing it to his lips to kiss it, and Yennefer blinked, seeming a bit dazed as she looked up at him, remembering where they were. "Got Ciri to thank for that," Geralt answered, pressing her fingertips softly to his lips. "Wouldn't be alive if not for her quick thinking. Gave us someplace to heal. Time to do it. Used her powers to save us, even though she knew it would draw the attention of the Hunt."

Yennefer frowned, tucking a lock of wet hair worriedly behind her ear at the thought. "I wish you could find another solution to your task," she told him, softly. "Apart from giving Ciri the final Trial. I worry… that even if she doesn't die, she may sustain permanent damage from being subjected to it. You remember what happened to Avallac'h when we gave him the Trial of the Grasses— he suffered permanent nerve damage. He still can't quite close either hand into a fist, to this day."

"Probably makes it hard to write all his creepy eugenic annotations," Geralt noted, dryly.

"I suppose," Yennefer answered, letting out a soft sigh.

"Masturbation's gotta be tough as hell, too," Geralt added.

Yennefer looked up at him sternly at the addendum. "I doubt masturbation is our daughter's primary concern," she told him, frankly. "And even if it was, we'd have no right to take that from her. There are other solutions we can find to your task, Geralt, but we only have one of Ciri."

Geralt paused, realizing that, as much as he fought it, his wife had a valid point in her worry, and he let out a tired breath, allowing his hand to fall to his side again, still holding hers. "Can't take it off the table completely," he admitted, trying to ignore Yennefer's disappointed look. "But… won't pursue it as the only solution. Gonna ask Eskel first, see if he has any ideas. Can't promise I'll be able to kill him or Lambert if it comes down to that or the Trial. But… won't look into anything to do with Ciri until I've exhausted every other option."

Yennefer nodded, seeming resigned to his decision, before she let out another sigh, deeper than the last. "I suppose that's the most I can ask of you," she said, looking up into his golden eyes again. "I would never wish harm on Eskel or Lambert. I do hope you know that. But… I would do anything for Ciri. She's the only child I have, and if we lost her… I'm not sure what I would do." She paused at the thought, chewing her lip, before she let out another short, worried breath. "I'm also afraid that if we ever did lose Ciri… I might lose you as well," she admitted, quietly. "I adore her dearly, you know how much I do, but… she shares a special bond with you that even I don't. If something were to happen during the Trial… I don't know that you'd be able to live without her."

Geralt frowned, feeling a sense of dread start to build in his chest at her concern; he had never thought about how life without Ciri might be, even during her time away in Vizima. The thought of being weeks of travel away from her could be sad at times, often lonely, but the thought of losing her forever – watching her die, and having to bury her – was almost more than he could bear. Yennefer was right: if he were to force Ciri through the Trial and she were to die as a result, he would never be able to forgive himself, or live with the guilt of what he had done. It was too much to ask of him, leveraging the life of one child against the other, and he found himself wondering if O'Dimm had been counting on that from the start, on the witcher not being able to choose.

"Can't… think about it now," he said after a moment, shaking his head to clear the dreary thought from his mind. "Talk about it some other time. Once I find out more from Eskel."

Yennefer nodded again, before turning away from him, picking up a folded towel from their clean stack. "Do tell me if he's doing alright, if you do manage to find him," she told him, wrapping her hair in the soft cloth. "I worry about him. He seems so… lonesome. Though I suppose it's difficult to find companionship when you've a disfigurement as noticeable as his." Geralt frowned, realizing that Yennefer probably knew better than most how it felt to be othered due to a disfigurement, but he had never known Eskel to complain about his scars, usually taking his appearance in good-natured stride. Yennefer seemed not to notice his expression, only pressing her hands to the towel on her head, causing it to give off a soft hiss of steam before she pulled it away again, letting her dry curls fall to her shoulders.

"Do you know if he's ever been in a long-term relationship?" she asked, causing Geralt to look up again, confused.

"Who, Eskel?" he asked, frowning at the question. "Not that I know of. Can only think of a few people he's been with." He paused, trying to remember the last time Eskel had spoken about past relationships, but he found it hard to place more than a few, realizing his fellow witcher was not the most talkative of their kin. "Only really know about a succubus," he added, his frown deepening as he realized how little he actually knew about Eskel. "Wasn't really a relationship, though. Just a one-night-stand. Seems strange, now that I think about it."

"Perhaps he's simply waiting for the right person to come along," Yennefer suggested, her mouth curling into a small, impish smirk. "Perhaps he's a romantic, unlike the rest of you. Eskel… someone's knight in shining armour."

Geralt grunted, having a hard time imagining Eskel as a knight in shining armour, though he supposed that was mostly because he was unused to thinking much about Eskel at all. That was probably unfair to Eskel, he realized – his fellow witcher had just as full a life as anyone else, even if most of it was spent toiling quietly in Geralt's much more infamous shadow. Reaching over towards his wife again, he ran his hand through her raven hair, and Yennefer took his hand, kissing his calloused knuckles, before pulling on his wrist, hurrying him along.

"It's time for bed," she told him, her voice half insistent, half entreating as she pulled him in closer. "The sooner we get to tomorrow, the sooner all this task nonsense will be over."

"Don't wanna get to tomorrow too soon," Geralt answered, brushing her dark hair adoringly back from her face. "Maybe we stay up a little longer. Do whatever you want. Could even do it in bed."

Yennefer sighed at his persistence, but smiled anyway, reaching up to tap him lovingly on the nose. "You're insatiable, witcher," she teased him. "Alright. One last time, then. But then we really must sleep. I don't want you to be too tired when you start on your second task tomorrow."

Geralt yawned as he pulled his sword-strap across his chest, checking the fastenings on his gloves and boots, before he turned to check Roach's saddle, making sure the straps were all securely buckled. He had stayed up much later with Yennefer than intended, but he did not regret a second of it – they had started the night with sex, but it had turned into conversation halfway through, and he had been too enraptured by the topic to stop, even once she was no longer on top of him. He had become entranced by her expressions, scholarly and solemn, even with him deep inside her, and he had found the discussion that much more fascinating because of it, realizing she could speak on advanced scientific topics while simultaneously riding him through climax.

Geralt rubbed at his eyes as he secured Roach's saddle-bags, making sure everything he had packed had made it onto her back, before he turned to face the manor again, watching as the others began to approach across the vineyard. They had all decided to head off at the same time, with Regis taking his leave that morning as well, and Geralt stifled another yawn as the vampire approached him, smiling sympathetically as he watched his friend struggle to stay awake.

Regis slid his thumb under his bandolier strap as he looked over the well-packed steed, before he turned his attention to Geralt again, tilting his head as he looked up into his friend's tired face. "Long night?" he guessed, chuckling softly. "I suppose you and Yennefer are on better terms now. I detected something a bit frigid when I first arrived, but it seems to have gone now. For the better, I presume."

"Much better," Geralt confirmed, running a thoughtful hand down Roach's sleek neck. "What about you, Regis? Heading back to Dettlaff?"

Regis hesitated, his smile quickly dropping from his face, before he sucked his lip, seeming uneasy to answer. "Not… yet," he finally said, looking up again with furrowed brows. "I feel… a bit more time apart might do me good. Perhaps give me a bit more perspective. Allow me some time to think things over, rather than… proceeding rashly, potentially stepping out of line." He paused, his dark eyes earnest, as if hoping he might realize something then, something that might make it all make sense, but he only lowered them again after a moment, letting out a soft breath as he took hold of his bandolier strap again.

"Perhaps I'm simply too out of practice," he considered, letting out a soft chuckle that made Geralt's heart ache to hear it. "Perhaps that's what I'll discover while I'm away for a bit—that I should simply let it go. That would certainly lessen any complication."

"Don't think that's the answer," Geralt told him, making a face at the conclusion. "Never know how these things go until you try. You'll figure it out, Regis. You always do."

Regis took a deep breath at his friend's words, before offering him a weary smile, forced through the gauntness of his cheeks. "I certainly hope you're right, Geralt," he answered, cordially. "The alternative is… not something I'd like to think about." He paused, allowing an uncomfortable moment to fall between them at the thought, before he moved forward to wrap the witcher in a one-armed hug, patting him fondly on the back. "I'll return as soon as I have news," he said, stepping back again to clap a hand to Geralt's shoulder. "Perhaps once I learn a bit more from Orianna, or… whoever might have insight on the matter. I can't promise I'll return with much, but I'll return with whatever I can."

"Door's always open," Geralt answered, feeling Regis squeeze his shoulder warmly at the assurance. "If I'm not here, just tell Barnabas-Basil I said you could stick around."

Regis nodded, taking another step back, and Geralt turned next to look over the rest of the party, allowing his eyes to move over Triss, Dandelion, Shani, and Yennefer all standing together, waiting their turn for his attention. Making his way over to the four of them, he approached Triss first, offering her a grateful nod, before next turning his attention to Dandelion, watching as the bard stepped forward to speak to him directly.

"Perhaps I should go with you, Geralt," Dandelion suggested, adjusting his lute-strap eagerly across his chest. "Get a first-hand perspective of your adventures. It'd be a great boon for my new song."

"Wanna travel through Kaedwen on horseback?" Geralt asked, raising a sceptical brow. "Sleeping on dirt, eating wild plants? Running into monsters along the way?"

Dandelion faltered, sucking his lip, seeming suddenly much less interested. "…Perhaps another adventure, then," he agreed after a moment, flipping his hair distractedly from his face. "One where you're closer to civilization, and… beds. Without so many monsters and bugs to contend with."

Geralt grunted, grinning at the predictable answer, before reaching out to pat the bard gratefully on the shoulder, and Dandelion smiled as he watched his friend continue on, moving to the next person in line. Shani beamed up at Geralt as he approached, pulling her green travelling-cloak tighter around her shoulders, and he could not help his gaze from trailing down to the noticeable bump in the front of the fabric. It was not too terribly conspicuous, he guessed, if one were not specifically looking for it, though he wondered how effective it would be in the coming months to protect her from those who were.

"It'll be bigger by the next time we see each other," Shani told him, causing him to look up in surprise at the observation.

"Hm," Geralt said after a moment, glancing down again. "Guess it will. Hard to imagine."

Shani let out a chuckle, resting her hand wearily against the small of her back. "Yeah," she agreed, letting out a soft sigh. "Hard to imagine for me, too."

Geralt looked up at her again at her answer, noting her tired smile, the dark circles under her eyes, and he could not help wondering for a moment if sending her to some unfamiliar hideaway was truly the best solution. She was having a hard enough time as it was, even here in the comfort of Corvo Bianco, and he wondered if forcing a change of setting might only make things that much harder for her. There were no good options, he realized – either let her stay here, where she could be comfortable but never quite safe, or force her to travel between safe-houses, where she would be safer, but never quite comfortable.

He frowned at the thought, before telling himself it was better this way, though even he found that reassurance hard to believe – made even harder by the realization that Shani knew less about the situation than any of them. She had little idea why she was being moved, apart from general concern for her safety, and he had to wonder if that might not be for the best, with how taxing the journey would be for her on its own. He had to admit that moving her around gave him at least a slightly better chance to complete his tasks before her due date, and if she never had to know why she was being protected, it might be better for all of them, in the end.

"Take care of Yen for me," Geralt said, glancing at his wife over Shani's shoulder. "Don't let anything happen to her. Never been good at avoiding trouble."

"Funny, Geralt," Yennefer returned, dryly. "I'm not the one who nearly died three times in a month."

Geralt hummed at the observation, taking his hand from Shani's stomach again. "Third time's the charm," he told her, offering a fond smirk at her concern.

Yennefer sighed. "Yes," she agreed, tiredly. "My only concern is that the fourth may be the one to finally kill you. You must promise me you'll be careful, Geralt – even if I'm not there to nag you to do it."

Geralt grinned, moving across to his wife, before leaning down to give her a peck on the lips. "Got the xenovox," he told her, patting the pouch at his belt where the communication device rested against his hip. "Could always nag me that way. Be nice to hear your voice every now and then." Reaching up, be brushed her dark hair from her face as she let out another sigh, before he cupped her cheek in his hand, leaning down to kiss her again, more tenderly this time.

He had no idea when the next time would be that he would see her in person, he realized; he had spent months apart from her before, even years, but those times seemed like an entirely different life now. The thought of being away from her now, even for a day, sent a squeezing pain through his chest, and he pulled her in close, burying his face in her raven hair and breathing in her comforting scent. "Love you," he told her, softly, feeling her dainty hands moving across his back as they embraced. She seemed just as loathe to let go of him as he was of her, he realized, and he kissed the top of her head again, knowing they would have to part ways eventually.

"I know you do," Yennefer said, her own soft voice muffled against his chest. "And I love you, Geralt. I wish we hadn't spent so much time disagreeing before all this."

Geralt chuckled, running a hand over her curls. "Couples argue," he told her, unconcerned. "No different from the twenty-some years we had before. Just 'cause we're married now doesn't mean our arguments are worse." He turned his head, resting his scruffy cheek against her soft hair as he breathed in her scent again. "Wouldn't care anyway," he added, feeling her heart beating steadily against his palms on her back; her heartbeat had slowed since they had first begun speaking, his presence grounding her, giving her some semblance of balance. "Would spend my whole life arguing. 'Long as I got to spend it arguing with you."

"Softie," Yennefer teased, pulling her head back to look up into his face again. "You really must stop being so good to me. Otherwise I'm not sure I'll be able to say goodbye." Reaching up to his face, she brushed her gloved fingers across his wintery beard, listening to the familiar crackle, the sound of a lazy morning in bed, of a midnight nuzzle beneath the stars. She sighed as she cupped his face in her hands, passing her thumbs lovingly across his scarred cheeks, before she took another deep breath, trying not to let it shake with anxiety as she prepared to speak again

"Please take care of yourself out there," she told him, her voice quiet, almost desperate in its sincerity. "I don't think I could stand to lose you now. Not when I've only just begun to know you again."

"Promise I'll do my best," Geralt answered, reaching up to touch the dainty hand on his face. Yennefer nodded, before pulling his face down to meet her, kissing him as gently and tenderly as he had ever been kissed, and Geralt breathed in her scent again as he kissed her back, wanting to remember it for the long ride through Kaedwen.

He had no idea how long it would be until he got to see his wife again, he realized, and as she pulled away from the kiss again, he found himself wishing the moment had lasted longer. He wondered if this would be his point in time – this kiss, this calm before the inevitable storm – his moment he would return to again and again, if given the chance O'Dimm had spoken of. He wished he could live in this moment, this second of bliss before the reality of the world set in again, and he let out a long breath as Yennefer took a step back, returning to her place at Shani's side.

"You head out first," Yennefer told him, indicating with a nod of her head towards the crystalline necklace. "We'll hang back to make sure it's working, and then we'll head out. Don't worry about us – we know where we're going."

"Never questioned that," Geralt returned, touching the necklace warily as he turned back to Roach, before hooking his foot into her stirrup and pulling himself up into the saddle astride her. Taking a deep breath, he paused, glancing back at Yennefer and Triss once more, before he lifted the crystalline disc from his chest, resting it against his lips as he closed his eyes. He could not help feeling a bit foolish as he tried to imagine the old witcher fortress in his head, but he soon realized how vivid his memories of it were— he could almost see its crumbling walls, almost smell the musky scent of its long-forgotten corridors, and he let out a low breath, feeling the moisture fog against the casing holding the stone in place.

"Va aép… Kaer Morhen," he said, speaking only loud enough for himself to hear, before opening his eyes quickly as the stone gave a pulse, followed by the familiar sound of reality being ripped into a portal. He faltered as he stared ahead into the oval of light, feeling the eerie wind pulling him towards the void, before he let the stone drop to his chest again, pulling on Roach's reigns as she gave an uneasy whinny.

"Whoa, girl," he told her, rubbing a reassuring hand across the mare's neck. "One quick jump and it'll be over. Triss said it works, so… gotta trust her." He made a face at the assurance, realizing even he would not be convinced by so weak a plea, but he clicked his tongue regardless, giving two short taps to the side of his horse's flank. Roach gave another bluster as she moved towards the portal, pulling her head in towards her neck, her footfalls wary and small against the cobblestones as she moved one way and then the other in an attempt to find a way around.

"Come on, Roach," Geralt pressed, squeezing her sides again, only to earn a short, distressed nicker in return, and he sighed as he felt the warmth of the portal on his face, realizing that, no matter how much he hated it, his horse would only hate it more. Taking a deep breath, he paused to think, before lifting his hand above her rump, cursing himself for his last resort as he brought it down, hard, on her flank. Roach whinnied as she felt the sharp slap of his palm, tossing her head and lurching forward towards the portal, and Geralt shut his eyes tightly as it enveloped them both—before it closed behind them, and there was only darkness.