ooof ok it's time for Shit To Go Down
A Wolf Among Lilacs
Part Three: Beauty/Menace
Chapter Thirty: Disturbance At The Raven House
Yennefer's idea of talking about things turned out to include a surprisingly small amount of actual talking, but, if Geralt was going to be honest with himself, he didn't mind that at all.
It wasn't as if he'd anticipated them sitting down for an in-depth discussion about the ramifications of his final wish. She had already proven to him time and time again that she would rather let her actions speak for her, and if those actions meant they spent the better part of the next three days in bed, he wasn't going to complain about them. The few times he did try to bring it up, she would always cut him off, anyway. After the first day, he stopped trying—if she wanted to talk about it, she'd broach the subject herself. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea of using what little time they had to themselves this way became.
It would only take so long for one of her friends—or, gods forbid, Istredd—to realize it had been several days since she tried to contact any of them. He hoped, no matter how pointless it seemed, that Regis would try to head things off, to prevent anyone from worrying so much that they felt the need to come to Vengerberg themselves, if anyone even knew that was where she'd gone. Though news about the djinn had gotten out—thanks in no small part to Dandelion's inability to keep his mouth shut—few people seemed to know of his and Yennefer's involvement besides that they had managed to stop the djinn from destroying Rinde completely. It was, admittedly, more than he'd wanted anyone to know in the first place; his reputation didn't need to suffer further if anyone found out the details, and he knew Yennefer preferred to remain out of the public eye whenever possible. It would be difficult to remain unnoticed after this, though. Even if the media didn't somehow get ahold of a far more detailed story, it would travel among their acquaintances, among her colleagues in the Chapter and Council. She had been right to say they had a lot to discuss. Without even trying, Geralt was able to imagine at least a hundred ways this could go wrong.
But for three days, at least, they forgot about that. As easy as it was to think about it, it was equally effortless to let those worries go when faced with the reality of her. The only other instance in which he could recall spending so much time in her company was in Novigrad, but that had been punctuated by procedures and examinations and unwelcome visits—to him, it barely even counted. The time dragged on blissfully uninterrupted, and during it he found he was learning all sorts of little things about her that he never would have noticed otherwise. Despite her best efforts to appear inscrutable, Geralt had already begun to discern the things that would let on to her mood; the subtle changes in her posture, in the pitch of her voice when she spoke. But none of those things seemed to matter there, where it was just the two of them, and she was, for the most part, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her.
"No one is going to bother us," she insisted somewhere in the middle of the first day, when Geralt brought up the possibility of them being interrupted. "They know not to come here unless they're invited." It was a rule, he'd learned from Triss once, that had never been broken—her space was off-limits to all those except her clients and those she chose to allow in. It was one of the reasons the party not long ago had been considered such a rare occurrence, and was so well-attended. But Geralt could already think of a couple of people who would be willing to break that rule, if they thought that something was wrong.
He brought that up once, too, though he never went so far as to say the name—they both knew who he was talking about, it wasn't necessary. His concern that time had been met with an exasperated sigh, and then a kiss that he was all too happy to let distract him. It was more interesting, anyway, to catalog her reactions to him, and he spent more time than he would admit—though he suspected she already knew—thinking of ways to elicit those reactions. He'd come to realize, for example, that running his fingers across her spine was a near-surefire way to get her to stop whatever it was she happened to be doing, and to focus on him. It was a satisfying discovery, and an amusing one—another thought he never voiced, though he was certain he knew what her reaction would be.
There was only so much time, though, before reality would come knocking.
Reality came in the form of a phone call on the morning of the fourth day, one that Yennefer was unwilling to receive, if the way she groaned and shoved her face into the pillows was any indication. At first, Geralt was content with letting her phone vibrate until it went to voicemail, and so that was what he did—and then it went off again. And again. Sometime around the fifth missed call, Yennefer made an appearance from under a veritable mountain of blankets, snatching the phone up with an expression nothing short of murderous.
"If this godsdamned thing goes off one more time I swear I'll—" She looked down at the screen, and went silent, lips twisting with displeasure. Geralt didn't have to look at the phone to know who it was. They'd both been suspecting for long enough that it would happen, if she stayed isolated much longer. After a quick glance over at him, she pressed the button to answer and held the phone up to her ear. "What?"
"Yenna?" he heard the voice on the other end say before Yennefer muttered something and the sound coming from her phone became distorted, reduced to static and mumbles he couldn't differentiate from each other, and his blood ran cold. He had known, though, hadn't he? He'd know this could only last so long, had been thinking it this entire time, and now they would have to answer for their absence. Yennefer seemed to be coming to the same realization, if the look on her face—somewhere between anxious and furious—was any indication. When she replied she did so quickly, and in Elder Speech, her words harsh and clipped.
It only took a moment for listening to her to make Geralt nervous, so instead of focusing on that he rose from the bed and started to pull his clothes back on. It was lucky, he thought, that he kept a fully-packed duffel on the floor in the back of his truck, though he hadn't envisioned ever needing to use it for this particular type of scenario. He was almost out of clean clothes, though, which presented its own type of problem—he could wash them easily, but if he showed back up to Oxenfurt in the same thing he'd been wearing in Rinde, it might raise questions, if anyone actually noticed. He couldn't count on anyone ignoring it, though; better, in this case, to be overly cautious.
"No," Yennefer exclaimed loudly, switching back to the common tongue so suddenly that Geralt looked back over in surprise. "You don't have to—"
Silence. He could tell she'd dropped the muffling spell when his medallion, which had been pulsing since he put it back on, went still on his chest. She wouldn't look at him, not right away; her gaze focused instead on the frosted glass of the windows, on the early morning sun streaming through it—the only light in the room. Yennefer dropped the phone on the thick black-and-white quilts covering her legs. Her hand was steady, but there was an uneasiness about her, one that brought out his own worry.
"What's going on?" he asked, and for a moment he received no reply. Yennefer simply stared across the room, her brow furrowed, lips slightly parted in a way he would have found alluring if not for the matter at hand. "Yen?"
The sound of the nickname seemed to startle her out of whatever thoughts she'd become lost in, and when she finally met his gaze, she was frowning. "Geralt, it's time you took your leave."
The declaration was so sudden that all he could do was stand there as she pushed the covers back and stood, grabbing a black robe from the nearby settee and wrapping it around herself. "What? Why?"
She let out a small, impatient huff, drawing her arms up and then outward, in a gesture he was more than familiar with—she was creating a portal, and she meant to send him through it. He had no doubt she'd manage, too, if that was what she wanted; it had already been proven he could not resist her as well as he'd once assumed. "I don't have time to explain," she said, low and hurried, as the orange glow of a portal flickered to life in front of them. She hadn't even given him a chance to gather his things. "But you can't be here when—"
She cut off again, surprised into silence for the second time in seemingly as many minutes, and then he felt it: a sharp pulse of his medallion, coupled with the distinct sound of another portal opening two floors below them. Yennefer cursed under her breath and redirected the energy of her spell, pushing her hands towards Geralt so that he suddenly found himself wreathed in her magic.
"Get in there and stay there. Out of sight." She crossed the room to where he stood in a few strides, and then her hands were on his chest, shoving him back towards the slightly-ajar bathroom door. "And Geralt, don't make a sound."
Before he had a chance to demand an explanation, the door was pulled shut in front of him, left open just a crack in the same manner it had been before. Her spell settled over him heavy like a blanket, almost smothering in its intensity. If he stood at the right angle, he could see through the gap between the door and the frame, and he watched as she discarded the robe in favor of a white shirt that was clearly too large to be hers, which she buttoned up with some haste, all the while stealing glances towards the stairwell that led to the lower levels.
It only took a moment for him to pick up on the source of her sudden distress—footsteps, coming up the stairs at an alarming rate. Instinct told him to step back, try and blend in with the shadows of the unlit room as best he could and try to stay away from the door, though he positioned himself so as to still be able to see. Yennefer's warning rang loud in his mind—as the voice he heard rang in his ears.
"Yenna?" He'd known it would happen eventually—that Istredd would get suspicious and come after Yennefer. Everything he'd heard about the man, coupled with his firsthand experience, had all but confirmed it, and there he was. Geralt grit his teeth together against the onslaught of useless anger that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to stay where he was. If he made his presence known now, it would only make things worse for Yennefer.
"I'm here," she called in reply, and Geralt could tell how she tried to sound nonchalant, as if she'd been woken up alone by his call and had done nothing more than wait for him to arrive. If luck was on their side, he'd believe that and be on his way within a few minutes. Despite all his other unlikable traits, though, Istredd wasn't stupid—quite the opposite, in fact. It would take more than a convincing performance on Yennefer's behalf to make him believe that nothing was amiss.
"Ah!" The noise Istredd let out, presumably upon reaching the top of the stairs and finding her there, was a bit too self-satisfied for Geralt's liking, but if he wanted to believe he was the one who'd been the first to check up on her, Geralt would let him believe it. No matter how it wounded his pride to do so. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for days," he continued, sounding more annoyed now that he'd been reassured of her physical well-being.
"I know," Yennefer replied dryly, and even though Geralt's view of her was mostly obscured, he could picture her in his mind, how she'd stand with her arms crossed defensively, drawn up to her full height—which, though not impressive, would be more than enough to cow most men. "I've been trying to recover. I don't suppose you heard about the djinn that terrorized several city blocks of Rinde?"
"Of course I heard." He sounded offended, and Geralt couldn't help the satisfaction he felt upon hearing it. "Why else would I be here?"
"Because you haven't been able to reach me for three days and you feel better when I'm under your thumb?"
The silence that rang through the house after Yennefer finished speaking was deafening—so deep that Geralt could swear he heard his ears ringing. The anger that permeated the air was everyone's but his, and he held, if possible, even more still than before, fearing that the sudden quiet would expose him. He remembered, all at once, his bag and its contents, which he'd had no time to grab before being forced into hiding, and he hoped that Yennefer had remembered to cover them up.
When Istredd finally spoke, it was clear to Geralt that he was holding on to the last threads of his patience. "Yenna, we've been through this before—"
"I know." Geralt couldn't decide which was worse: her agreeing with him, or the fact that all her emotion had dissipated to resignation. "You're only trying to protect me. It's a nice thought, but you've known for years that I don't need it." The undercurrent of steel running through her words was the only thing able to convince Geralt that she was speaking only for Istredd's benefit—that she realized the best thing to do, in order for them not to be found out, was to avoid a fight. It should have touched him that she was willing to put aside her pride in order to do so. It would have, if he were not already so frustrated.
The only audible response her declaration received was a quiet, resigned sigh. This had all the makings of a well-worn argument, one they must've had more times than either of them cared to count. But the fact that she had, by all appearances, conceded to him, would have hopefully calmed him down. His initial arrival hadn't prepared Geralt for watching him pull Yennefer to him and kiss her, though—and even as he realized he had no reason to be jealous, that he was the one in the wrong in this situation and his worry should be on being caught, the envy flared up in him so quickly that in order to stop himself from doing something rash, he reached out and grabbed the edge of the marble counter, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly he was surprised it didn't crack under his grip. Luckily, it seemed Istredd was too distracted to notice.
"Come back to Aedd Gynvael, Yenna," he said softly when they parted. He couldn't see Yennefer's face, hidden as it was by her hair, but he could see Istredd's hands on her waist, and her own gripping his shoulders in a manner that had recently become all too familiar to him, and he burned. "If you're truly fine, there's no reason to stay here."
Yennefer turned her face away from him, and in doing so she faced away from Geralt as well. He understood why, but he couldn't help but wish she'd looked at him, offered some minute reassurance. "Even if I am fine, that doesn't mean I want to travel," she responded after a moment. "It…might not be the best thing for me right now. The fight took quite a bit out of me."
"And you've already been resting for three days," Istredd countered, much to Geralt's irritation. If this argument continued to circle for much longer, the concealment spells Yennefer had cast on him would begin to wane, and Istredd would be able to sense him. She must have realized, as well, because her next words were quick, and clearly designed to placate him.
"Give me one more day. Just one. And I'll leave Vengerberg."
To Istredd, the offer must have seemed too good to be true, especially considering the fact that it had come with so little arguing. He'd be a fool not to take her up on it, and it seemed he realized that as well. "One day," he said, the warning clear in his voice. "And I will expect to see you in Aedd Gynvael."
After a short hesitation, Yennefer nodded, and this seemed to be enough for Istredd, for he kissed her one last time—Geralt's grip on the counter tightened—and left the way he'd come. She stood stock-still in the middle of the room until the sound of the portal closing behind him had long since faded away.
"You can come out now," she said, and a second later Geralt's medallion went still as the spells she'd cloaked him with dropped, leaving an uncomfortable stillness in their wake. He pulled the door open just enough to step back into the bedroom, and not until he was standing only a few feet away did Yennefer turn to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she continued, and though her tone was apologetic, she'd forced her face into the same neutral expression she always wore when she was talking about things she'd rather ignore. "He's usually not so…" She waved her hand around in a vague gesture.
"Possessive? Rude?" Geralt cut in, and she rolled her eyes, though he liked to think there was some fondness in the gesture. "If you're so unhappy with him, why not leave?"
Yennefer sighed, and turned to the large chest of drawers on the other side of the room, walking over and starting to pull her clothes out without glancing back. "It's more complicated than that," she finally said, dropping the small pile of clothes on the bed and reaching for the sash holding the robe closed. "Perhaps I'll tell you someday."
He wasn't sure he actually wanted to hear any of that story, and he had no problem with telling her so, but as he opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by yet another unwelcome sound—this time it was his own phone, vibrating somewhere in the mess of blankets on the bed. At first he had every intention of ignoring it, but when the sound ceased, only to start up again seconds later, and Yennefer glared at him, he relented and shoved the blankets aside until he found it.
Eskel's name was on the caller ID. This couldn't possibly be good.
"What is it?" Where Yennefer had sounded angry answering her call, Geralt was certain he merely sounded exhausted. He hadn't even been awake an hour and this already felt like the longest day of his life.
"Geralt!" He almost groaned out loud when he realized it was Lambert, and not Eskel, on the other line—he would be far less understanding of Geralt's tiredness, and likely far more judgmental if he realized who Geralt was with at the moment. "Where the fuck are you?"
He lifted his free hand to rub across his forehead, trying to stave off the headache that would surely come with trying to figure out what, exactly, Lambert meant. "Why are you asking?"
"Oh, I don't know." Lambert sounded exactly as annoyed as Geralt felt, but he was doing a far worse job of hiding it—if he was even trying to, which Geralt doubted. "Maybe because you said you'd be at Kaer Morhen when you were on your little break and we haven't heard from you in a week?"
The fingers across his forehead tightened, this time not with annoyance, but frustration. "Right," he groaned, and Yennefer paused in the middle of buttoning up a different shirt—one that actually appeared to be hers—to stare at him with her brows furrowed. "I got…held up. It's a long story, I'll explain when I get there. It'll take me a couple of days to make the drive, though."
Lambert scoffed. "If you think we didn't hear about the djinn, you're being ridiculous," he said. "But you better get up here soon, because we want to hear it all from you."
He hung up with a click, and Geralt tossed the phone back down onto the bed. He followed soon after, sitting heavily on the edge and resting his head in his hands. A moment later, he felt a dip on the mattress beside him, and Yennefer's hand was on his shoulder. "If you need to go, then go," she said, and to Geralt's relief, she didn't sound angry or upset. "I wasn't expecting you to stay for weeks."
Geralt nodded without looking up. He'd stay the rest of the day, and then he could move his truck from where it had been parked out of the way and—
"Wait." Geralt lifted his head slowly. Yennefer looked at him with the same mildly confused expression she'd been wearing a minute ago. "You could come with me," he said. "To Kaer Morhen."
Yennefer raised an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk on her face. He knew as well as she surely did that it wasn't a good idea, that even with Ciri involved, bringing Yennefer there of his own free will would be nothing less than suspicious, especially to Eskel. "If you want to, that is," he added, almost afraid of what she might say. "I know you said you'd go to Aedd Gynvael in a day."
He'd assumed she hadn't meant what she said to Istredd, and his assumptions were confirmed when she let the smirk stretch into a fuller grin, and she tucked one leg underneath her to face him fully. "I said I'd leave Vengerberg in a day," she said. "I never said where I'd go."
i don't even know what to say in these notes anymore without being repetitive lmao...i have a Schedule now so. not to get anyone's hopes up but it seems to be working alright so far aldfkajflkaj. i'm starting classes at the end of august (both taking and teaching them) tho so idk
