grad school is KILLING me y'all -bel
A Wolf Among Lilacs
Part Three: Beauty/Menace
Chapter Thirty-One: A Little Journey Through The Unknown
In the end, Yennefer came with him to Kaer Morhen, as he had suspected she would insist upon doing ever since he hung up the phone. It wasn't that he didn't want her there—he wouldn't admit it, but the closer he was to her, the better—but he worried about how the others would react to seeing her there, and about how Istredd would react, once he realized she wasn't going to be at Aedd Gynvael like she'd said. Their time frame of a day before he would start looking again seemed to go by quickly, and by that night they were in his truck, Yennefer's packed bags in the backseat, and he was leaving Vengerberg to head towards the keep.
"You really don't have to do this, you know," he said after they'd been driving for several hours. The highway was all but deserted around them, the only sign of life an occasional pair of headlights traveling in the other direction. No one sensible would want to be on the road at this hour, but Geralt had always liked driving at night. Less distractions, less people around to glance over at stoplights and then look quickly away when they realized there was a witcher in the car. It got him places quicker, too, which was always useful, considering how often he usually had to move to get decent contracts.
Yennefer glanced over at him. He didn't look back, choosing to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, but it was almost as if he could feel her raising her eyebrow. "It almost sounds like you don't want me there," she commented dryly. "If that's the case, I would have rather you told me before we got three hours outside the city."
"That's not it." The yellow lights above the highway washed him out even more than normal lights did. Perhaps now, that was a good thing, when he was so closely under her scrutiny. "But—I didn't tell them you were coming. They might not take to uninvited guests so well."
"I see." This time he does make the mistake of looking over, and the amused half-grin on her face distracts him enough that after a second, she makes a show of redirecting her gaze to the road. He follows, embarrassed. "But I'm not an uninvited guest. You invited me."
He tried to keep in a frustrated sigh, tried not to let the impatience he was feeling seep into any reply he might make. This was not the first time in the past day they'd had this argument. He already missed the times they hadn't been talking about much of anything. "I did. And it might not be enough for them."
"Well, it will have to be." Apparently satisfied that the argument had been brought to a close—and hopefully for the final time—Yennefer settled back into the passenger seat, tucking one of her legs up underneath her. He remembered her doing much the same thing when they were on their way back from the Kestrel Mountains. That had only been a few months ago—it was odd and a little terrifying to think about how much things had changed since then.
Her hand rested on the center console. This time, he didn't think twice before he reached out and took it. Likewise, it took only a second for her to lace her fingers with his. When they didn't look at each other now, it felt less strained than it had before. There was no reason for them to look. They didn't need to know.
"How long will we stay?" she asked after another minute of silence. Before, he would have worried that it was a leading question—he had to shove down those instincts even now. But it seemed innocent enough, and besides, she was right to be concerned about how much of her time she used being there. They had to prepare for classes once they were back in Oxenfurt, and she was significantly busier than he was.
"Not long. A week at most." The answer appeased her, but he could tell she wasn't happy about it. He didn't want to judge her for it—this couldn't be easy for her, putting herself under the scrutiny of the rest of the Wolf school when none of them knew of their true relationship, and none of them could know, either. Still, it was hard not to let it dampen the excitement he still felt for the trip. Had he gone by himself, he would have left almost a full week ago, and even at the beginning of the break he'd been determined to spend as much of it up there as he could. Bringing Yennefer didn't feel like a loss, but it would certainly be awkward.
"Is Ciri going to be there?"
That was a question he didn't have an answer for, and he told her so honestly. She'd seemed interested in coming with him when they had discussed it closer to the beginning of the year, but back then they had both assumed that they'd leave together. In his wildest dreams he couldn't have foreseen the kinds of complications that had arisen. Whether Ciri would decide to make her own way there or remain in Oxenfurt was anyone's guess, though if Geralt had to, he would say the latter. He knew she didn't like being cooped up there any more than they liked keeping her hidden, even if it was for her own safety.
"She'll be there," Yennefer said after he had explained the situation to her. He had stumbled over his words when he'd gotten to complications, afraid she'd get the wrong idea from the phrasing, but, if anything, she'd seemed amused by it—and she was confident when she made this declaration now. "She won't want to stay alone in that apartment for a second longer than she has to." The surety in her voice helped to put some of his tension at ease; he still worried about how successfully she would be able to get there unseen, especially if she went on her own, but if Ciri was there, the others might be less likely to ask too many questions. At the very least, they would be somewhat distracted from the fact that Yennefer was there at all.
"How much longer?" she asked, but she didn't even wait for his answer before she curled her legs up under her, leaning her head against the window. It still managed to surprise him how she could fit all of her into a space so compact—he had never been good at making himself small.
"Not long." He didn't take his eyes off the road. It was more difficult than he would have liked to admit. "Half a day, at most."
"I think your definition of not long is different from mine, then." Her voice was already quieter, and when he next glanced over at her she was—not asleep, he'd have known if she was asleep, but she'd closed her eyes and rested her head at the bottom of the window, one hand laying limply on her lap and the other clutching the edge of the seat. Another security measure. She hadn't seemed quite this uncomfortable even on the way back from the Kestrel Mountains, and he wondered if it was the situation or if it was just him, if the change in their relationship had changed other things as well. But there wasn't time to worry about that now, not while he had to focus on the road.
~oOo~
They arrived just before the sun set, after the half day of traveling that Geralt had anticipated turned into a full day, monotonous hours of driving broken up by Yennefer's gentle teasing about how he needed to work on his ability to tell time. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching the keep approach through the snow that was near to covering the windshield with no small amount of apprehension, and it made him wonder if she was, in fact, far more anxious about this than she had been willing to let on. It wouldn't be surprising; she'd spent most of the time they'd known each other hiding things from him, and everyone else, at that, not to mention that most of the people here would be strangers to her—she had perhaps met Eskel once, back when they had just returned from Novigrad, but he'd never asked either of them, and she would have had no occasion to come in contact with Lambert or Vesemir. The only person there that she would be familiar with besides him was Ciri, and he could only imagine how the others might use that to their advantage to shut her out, block her from any and all conversation.
She wouldn't make it that easy, though. Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to watching them learn that the hard way.
The large, wooden front doors creaked open as they were getting out of the car, and when Geralt looked over Ciri was running down the stairs, taking them several at a time and throwing her arms around him with so much force that he stumbled backwards a step from it before returning the embrace. She was breathing heavily from her run, and when they pulled back to look at each other he could see the breath puffing out from between her lips, dissolving in the mountain air.
"I was afraid that something had happened to you!" she gasped, more relieved than accusatory, though he could still sense the annoyance that undercut her words. "The story about the djinn is all over the news—a full block of Rinde destroyed, and everyone knows both of you were there, and neither of you thought to even send me a message and let me know you weren't dead?"
By the time she'd finished speaking, Yennefer had crossed to the other side of the truck to stand next to them, and as Ciri took another deep breath in and turned to hug her, Geralt realized the thing that she had actually been trying to convey: fear. She had been afraid of losing them. The revelation sent a surge of emotion through him that he didn't know any longer how to identify. Things were different—things were irrevocably different and she had no idea. "You found out anyway."
"Yes. Regis told me." Ciri stepped back to survey the both of them, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Regis. And the only reason he knew is because he was there too, and he saw you both, and he thought I was important enough to tell."
Geralt opened his mouth to reply, then changed his mind and closed it again—what was there to say that would even begin to rectify the hurt she felt? When he looked over at Yennefer, her own lips were pressed together, and he was certain she was thinking the same thing. After a moment, though, she reached out and put her hand on Ciri's arm, squeezing gently. She murmured something under her breath in Elder Speech; something Geralt couldn't translate on his own, but that seemed to make sense to her, because a few seconds later she relaxed, letting her hands drop to her sides.
"Fine," she huffed, but this time she seemed more amused than anything else. "But I'm not letting you off the hook that easy."
"Nor would I expect you to." Yennefer grinned, briefly, before she looked back towards the keep and the smile dropped, leaving her with the same slightly-apprehensive expression she'd been wearing for the past thirty minutes. Geralt doubted anyone who wasn't familiar with her on a level few seemed to be would even notice anything was wrong; even now, she radiated the same self-assured confidence that she had when he first met her, clad in only a bathrobe in her apartment. With luck, none of the others would see it. If she gave them even a tenth of the first impression she had given him, then, he thought, everything would be fine.
Ciri seemed to catch on to the nervousness as well, rocking back on the balls of her feet and then forward again. "Everyone else is already inside," she said. "They've been waiting for you to show up—but I don't think they were expecting anyone else."
The expression on her face was more than a little suspicious, and he hoped the guilt he felt welling up in him didn't show. "I might have…not told them she would be here."
Ciri had to press her hand against her mouth to stifle a laugh. Yennefer only rolled her eyes.
"Right," she said, hoisting her bag higher up on her shoulder. "Would you show us around, Ciri?"
He had to hand it to her as Ciri's eyes lit up with excitement and she gestured towards the outer courtyard—for all that she seemed to involve herself in various levels of drama, Yennefer knew how to diffuse tension. They followed Ciri around the courtyards, listening to her recount memories from her time training there, and whenever Geralt would look over at Yennefer he would always find her focusing intensely on whatever Ciri was saying, shoving her nervousness to the back of her mind, as she always seemed to do. Burying it so deep that it ceased to be visible.
As they completed their loop of the courtyard and ascended the stairs towards the keep's intimidating main doors, when Ciri's back was turned, he reached out and grabbed Yennefer's hand, gripping it tightly for a moment before he dropped it. She looked over at him with her eyebrow raised, but made no further comment on the unexpected gesture, a reassurance that felt foreign to him. They still had not spoken about—anything, if he was being honest, and, not for the first time since they left Vengerberg, he wondered whether this trip had been the wisest idea. But it was too late for that now; Ciri was at the top of the stairs, pulling on one of the oversized doors to open it just enough for the three of them to slip through.
The only sound, for a moment, was the creaking of it shutting behind them, and Geralt began to hope—foolishly, he knew—that perhaps the others were out on contracts, that he would have more than a moment's thought to figure out how he was going to explain Yennefer's presence at the keep. He almost wished Ciri had given them some forewarning, cushioned the blow somewhat. The hope only grew when Ciri led them through the suspiciously empty main hall, full of shelves piled with books and ingredients, tables on which laid weapons and armor and—in one case—a forktail corpse, cut open and reeking. Yennefer wrinkled her nose as they passed it, but didn't comment, and he wondered if she, working with other alchemists as she was, had gotten used to seeing things like that, or if she was simply trying to spare his feelings.
"Most of the bedrooms are back this way," Ciri said as she led them through a door at the back of the main hall. They passed through the kitchen, a small thing for a keep of that size, and then into a tower ringed by a spiral staircase. "They're not much, but—you can have the nicest one. Assuming no one's already taken it."
"Would you not know if someone had?" The hint of amusement in Yennefer's voice was undercut by a current of uncharacteristic nervousness—one that Geralt suspected Ciri picked up on as well, but to say anything about it would be to break the spell they'd all willingly submitted themselves to, the one that everything would go smoothly once they were no longer alone. It was a far-fetched dream, true, but a nice one, and Geralt wanted to continue living in it for as long as he could.
Ciri grinned, more than a little self-satisfied, tongue caught between her teeth. "I would. Which is why I made sure no one did. So it's yours now." The smile widened, turned into something with a teasing edge, and she shifted the focus of her gaze from Yennefer to Geralt. "Lambert thinks it's because you wanted the nicest bed to rest your old man bones."
Geralt offered nothing in response to the jab besides a roll of his eyes—he'd tell Lambert off later, in person, if he decided it was truly worth starting an argument over—but a quiet hum came from Yennefer, and he glanced over to find her smiling at him as well, just the barest tilt of her lips. Though he'd become more accustomed those past few days to the side of her that was willing to let on when she found something amusing, it was still a mild shock to him every time it happened. She had done an incredibly thorough job of keeping her public reputation intact, something he had been failing at for years, and as a result he'd first thought the walls around her all but impenetrable. Even now, after he'd gotten a glimpse behind them—more than that, if he was being honest—he knew he'd only scratched the surface of who she would be if she were to let them down.
The three of them reached the top of the stairs, and the room opened up in front of them, taking up the whole floor of the tower. There was room, theoretically, for everyone who normally wintered there to have a similar room to themselves, even when they were all there at the same time, but most years they would settle for grouping cots in the main room, off to the side, where it was easier to set up heaters. Geralt had never much cared about the sleeping arrangements, but he had to admit to himself as he looked at the room that the idea of staying there, and not on a thin mattress surrounded by the remains of the Wolf School, didn't sound so terrible, especially if it meant they would be kept mostly away from prying eyes.
The room itself was sparsely furnished, nothing in comparison to Yennefer's Vengerberg home, but as far as he could tell, she didn't mind it—she had already made her way farther into the room, setting her bag down on what the others frequently referred to as the best bed in Kaer Morhen. The balcony doors had been latched tight, but she pulled them open, stepping outside without a word. Geralt, who hadn't moved at all, turned to Ciri. "Stall for a few minutes?" he asked, and she nodded, a devious grin already creeping onto her face.
"Consider it done."
She was gone before he could say anything else, and he traced Yennefer's path through the room, depositing his bag and shedding his jacket on the bed before he followed her out onto the balcony. Yennefer was leaning against the railing, her hands curled tight over the edge—one of the first signs of nervousness he'd seen out of her yet. "Tell me truly," she said before he got a chance to speak, "how bad will it be?"
He let out a slow breath as he considered his answer, staring down at her hands and fighting the desire to curl one of them over hers. It wouldn't be the best idea right now, he thought, not when she was already starting to withdraw, to put on the mask she wore in public in preparation to face whatever would be waiting for them downstairs. There was nothing to it, anyway; he'd have to tell her the truth. "I don't know. Never been in this situation before."
The wind was blowing strands of her hair in front of her face, and when she raised her hand to push them away it obscured her expression, but her tone was dry when she replied. "Based on what I'd heard prior to meeting you, I find that difficult to believe."
"Anything you heard that's linked to Dandelion is false."
She hummed again, a soft sound, and turned around to lean on the balcony's railing instead, staring at the room that, if all went well, would be their home for the next couple of weeks. She didn't return his glance when he looked at her, and he noticed some of the stones in her pendant were pulsing faintly, though he couldn't be sure if it was a result of something she'd done or simply the magic that shrouded the air in the keep. After a moment she straightened up and walked back into the bedroom proper, stopping at the top of the stairs with a hand on the balustrade, as though waiting for him. He followed, pausing only to latch the balcony doors, and it isn't until he's standing next to her that he hears the conversation going on at the bottom of the stairs. It wouldn't take a witcher's hearing to pick up on the irritated yell of "He brought who?"
Geralt winced when he heard it, but Yennefer, to her credit, looked just as unfazed as she had since they arrived, and when she did look over at him, it was with an eyebrow lifted. The diamonds in her star pulsed again. "I don't want to alarm you," she said, "but I think they know we're here."
i'm not even gonna try and make promises about future updates at this point lol - just know that i do not plan to abandon this story anytime soon, and even though i can't update nearly as frequently as when i first started it, i'll continue to update as frequently as i'm able; i just don't know how frequently that will be. my winter break is coming up and is fairly lengthy, but i also have a backlog of prompts to catch up on and other projects i'm working on (not to mention that i'll probably spend a lot of it watching and rewatching the show alsdfkjalfjak) so? i guess we'll see lmao. anyway i'm usually still around on twitter and tumblr!
