Chapter Five
~ Eliana ~
I awoke stiff and sore, nothing unusual, except the dewy, earthen scent of woodlands, of pine trees whispering in the cold breeze above. Not the damp mould of my cage, and the decrepit stable. Opening my eyes, I stared across at a sleeping man, snow white hair falling in soft lengths over his forehead, pale lashes dusting the strong ridge of his cheekbone, where dawn's light touched on a faded scar.
Geralt, the man who had saved me. The reason I was here, fed, healing, safe. Yesterday, he had seemed terrifying to me, but only because I didn't know his intentions. In this light, he didn't seem like a bad man. He appeared younger, innocent. He'd shaved, I realised, noting the clean, smooth planes of his strong-set jaw. He must have washed after I'd fallen asleep. I caught a gentle whiff of the same soap he'd lent me, and an underlying earthier scent, which wasn't dirt or grime, but something else, something wild.
He lay facing me, his arm stretched out between us. My eyes wandered curiously over the expanse of his bicep. At its breadth, it would easily be as wide, if not wider than my thigh. I had healed many of Verden's knights, and soldiers, but it was rare to come across a man possessing such honed strength. His skin was pale, and I wondered where he hailed from, for I did not think he was from Verden.
I traced the scars with my eyes; some thin, some rigged, old interwoven with new, all the way down to where his fingers entwined with a tress of my hair. A small gasp escaped my lips, and his eyes fluttered open.
Snatching my hair from his hand, I leapt up, shoving the cloak aside, nearly tripping in my haste as my injuries pulled taught, burning.
"What did you do!" I demanded, eyes landing on one of his blades, still sheathed against a pine log. I lunged for it as he leapt up, swearing. Fastening my hands about the hilt, I yanked the heavy blade towards me, dragging it about, hefting it to point the tip at him, and bulked. He'd grabbed his silver blade, and held it with ease at his side, muscles rippling. Bare muscles rippling.
~ Geralt ~
I definitely preferred her asleep. The sight of me shirtless seemed to give her pause, and I used it to my advantage, taking a step towards her. "Eliana." I warned. The damned girl would rip open her back trying to wield my sword.
"What did you do to me!" She was sparking with rage, a shock contrast to her terrified cries during the night, and later, peaceful mumblings as I'd carded my fingers through her hair. What had I signed up for? Transporting a little she-devil?
"I have done nothing to you." I countered, taking another step forward. "Put the sword down before you tear your sutures."
"You're lying." She lunged forward, raising the blade, swinging. I crossed it with my own, blocking her attack, a sharp ring splitting the air. "You drugged me!"
"I gave you a healing potion."
"Which put me to sleep." She growled.
"You did that all on your own." I growled back. Her eyes sparked, an emerald fire igniting within their depths.
"You were touching me. My hair." Quick as a viper, she disengaged, whirling the blade at my thigh, the weight of the weapon pressing on her malnourished state. I caught her attack again, this time ramming my blade against hers, not too hard, but enough to temper that griffin-like rage.
"It was the only way to get you to shut up crying, so we didn't get eaten by wolves, or worse, wargs." I casually dropped the second threat of these lands, and her eyes widened. "You'll find there are far worse monsters than me in these woods." I grabbed my steel blade, wrenching it from her grasp, and stalked back to the fire. Snatching up my dried shirt, I tugged it over my head.
When I turned back to her, she was still in the same place, looking smaller, weaker than she had only moments before. Sighing, unsure what to do with her, I rummaged through a pack, finding and breaking a hunk of stale bread in half.
Supplies were low. I'd forgone hunting game for tracking her and carried only meagre supplies. I'd need to hunt if we were to eat a proper meal today. Tomorrow, I hoped to stop at a town in the hills, provided the Verden army didn't await us there.
"Here." I thrust half the bread at her. "If you need to relieve yourself, do it now, we'll be leaving shortly."
"Where are we?" I paused on my way to fetch Roach, turning back to her.
"You don't know?" She shook her head, looking miserable.
"We are in the foothills of Gory Sine. It was the quickest escape from the army yesterday." She stared at me, disbelieving.
"We are in Kaedwen?"
"You did not know?" She shook her head, lips slightly parted.
"How, how did you find me?"
I shrugged. "I'm a hunter, it's what I do, track, hunt."
"But… I could have been anywhere…"
"Yes, but with a bounty on your head, it made sense you were far from Verden. I followed the right roads, asked the right people."
"A bounty?" She whispered, aghast. Fuck, I saw it in her eyes, the conclusion she'd drawn to now.
"Before you attack me again, no, I am not a bounty hunter. Well, not that kind." I held a hand up, a peace gesture.
"Why else would you travel so far to find me?" I re-approached her, and she held her ground, chin raised, until we were mere feet apart. Every single time I thought her to be one thing, she would surprise me by being another. Her fears I would harm her were gone. She might think me a monster, but she was not afraid of me.
"Do you know why you had to flee the city?" She stared into my eyes, unwavering. "Do you know who your birth father was?"
~ Eliana ~
The day leading up to the King of Verden's death, Petra had called upon me to aid her in treating him. He'd taken ill a week prior for no real clear reason, body wrecked with fatigue leaving him bedbound. In his stead, the Princess Fallon had taken over his duties, while he instructed from his bedside, where Petra and two other palace healers tried to puzzle out what was wrong with him.
The day she'd asked me to accompany her, I'd been nervous. I'd sometimes seen the King at a distance, riding or walking through the city, or giving speeches from a balcony to his people, but never up close.
I'd followed Petra into his chambers, fitted with gold and charcoal trimmings, the air heavy with herbs and potions, and curtsied at his bedside.
"Ah, Eliana, you have grown as beautiful as your mother." He had smiled then. "I am glad to see you, child."
"My Lord." Petra had questioned, a strange warning tone to her voice.
"You, you knew my mother?" I'd whispered, stunned. He'd smiled again, as if recalling a long-lost memory. His blue-green eyes going out of focus for a short moment. Those eyes, I'd seen them before, looking back at me from my own reflection…
I blinked, realising Geralt still held my gaze, and swallowed hard. "I, I think my father was King Wiscar of Verden."
"Yes, he was." Geralt sighed. "Do you know anything else?" I shook my head.
"Just that he didn't make it through the night, Princess Fallon took the throne in his stead, and the next thing I knew, there was an uprising, and Petra told me to run from the city, it wasn't safe for those of elven blood." He nodded, making to turn away. "Wait." I grasped his forearm, and he froze, staring down at the contact, surprised, I think. "Will you tell me what happened?"
"Yes, but while we ride, we've stayed here too long."
It didn't take long to pack up and ride out. I helped where I could. I think that surprised him too. Guilt churned the bread I'd eaten about my stomach, as I self-consciously ran my fingers through my hair. Geralt had untangled it, so it fell in clean, wavy tresses down my back. I'd accused him without so many words of being no different to those monsters who had captured me, and the man who had bought me at auction. This morning, I'd been the one acting like a monster. An ungrateful monster. I didn't know how to apologise to him, and so I hoped my helping spoke the words for me.
We rode in silence the first couple miles, my back too stiff and sore now I was astride his horse, to comprehend speech, and he busy listening, watching the land.
Roach, the mare, was picking her way through a deep ravine when Geralt broke the silence. "How long have you known Wiscar was your father?"
"I only guessed when Petra brought me with her to the castle to treat him, the day before he succumbed to the illness." Geralt grunted in reply.
"He didn't die of illness, he was murdered." I turned my head, ignoring the sharp twist of my spine, to look up at him. He stared ahead. "Fallon murdered him. His servants and Petra discovered him the following morning. He'd been suffocated."
"Why would she do that?" I gasped, horrified by such a notion. The King had always been kind and fair to the people of Verden.
"The same reason most royals find themselves murdered. Power. It is my understanding she craved the power and notability of the crown."
"But if Fallon has her power, why am I wanted?"
"Fallon learned of your identity, and now all Verden knows your name. The Queen has placed a bounty on your head for one thousand crowns. Those not of elf blood are under her control, including more than half of the Verden army and its knights. They caught wind of my knowledge of your whereabouts and chased me to Rakverelin, where I found you."
"And the other half?" I hedged, struggling to comprehend everything he was telling me.
"Those who remained loyal to King Wiscar have taken refuge with the elves of Brokolin, and I believe Nastrog is still safe, or was when I left Verden. They are rallying, awaiting your return."
"But what can I possibly do?" I countered. "I'm just a healer girl, illegitimate if I truly am the King's daughter."
"Queen Fallon has taken control of and wields the elven wrought, Lireal staff of Verden. Combined with the mage blood passed from the King's mother, she is unstoppable, to all but you."
"I am no mage..."
"Perhaps not at this moment, but the King's blood runs through your veins. Only those of royal blood can wield the Lireal staff."
We fell into silence. I didn't know what to say, yet a hundred questions crowded my mind, a tangle of words, the foremost I could barely comprehend; why me?
We stopped atop a sheer cliff, overlooking the woodland and hills we had so far travelled. A spring bubbled up from the rocks, and while Geralt assessed the land below, I imagined for anyone tracking us, I knelt beside Roach, who was drinking her fill, and topped up the two waterskins. When I glanced Geralt's way, I found him already watching me; those golden eyes warm, almost brown beneath the bright, midday sun.
"How is your back?"
"Still there." I would have shrugged if it did not hurt, but the pain had lessened. He strode towards me, reaching a hand out in question. I nodded, allowing him to place it between my shoulder blades. With each passing hour seated before him in the saddle, I'd become more comfortable with his proximity.
"No heat, a good sign." He murmured, stepping around me to rummage through a pack. He produced a small wrapped square of cheese, and a dried leaf I didn't recognise. "Here, you need to eat, not sure when I'll find something to hunt, and we need to keep moving. Chew on the leaf first, it will help with the pain."
"What is it?"
"Dragons Tongue."
"I've never heard of it." I eyed the narrow, red coloured leaf. "How do you know so much about healing?"
"Are you going to take the leaf or not?" He rumbled. Narrowing my eyes, I took it, sniffed at it, picking up on a fresh, mint like scent, before placing it on my tongue and chewing. It tasted like mint too, but with a fire behind it, warming my throat and stomach as I swallowed the crushed mass.
I nibbled at the cheese, savouring the sharp flavour while Geralt drained one of the water skins, sculling down the spring water, and refilled it.
"You didn't answer my question." I said once we were both back in the saddle.
"It doesn't require an answer." Was his gruff reply. I scowled, although he could not see it.
"Do you know why I'm the King's daughter, I mean, I understand how, but why? He had a wife…" It seemed he was content enough to talk about me, answering after a moment.
"The King's marriage was arranged, a means to ensure an element of peace with Nilfgaard. He did not love Queen Nisse, he loved another, an elf. Despite a seeress's warning, Wiscar did not cease in seeing her in secret. He got her with child. For the first four years of the child's life, the King would visit his illegitimate family in secret at the cottage she lived in with their daughter and older cousin; a half-elf, palace healer, on the outskirts of the city. In the child's fourth year, Queen Nisse learnt of her King's deceit, and secretly ordered the elf woman's death." Geralt kept talking, but I could no longer hear what he said, my mind rushing like I'd stepped into the ocean's waves.
Blood, I remembered blood. I remembered green eyes, no longer filled with laughing light, unseeing. I remembered the silence. I remembered anguished cries, and arms encircling, lifting, the scent of clean, soft material and horse.
"Eliana?" A tentative thumb brushed against my own fingers, tangled in Roach's mane, knuckles white.
"Go on." I uttered, head light, bile in my throat.
"To ensure your safety, the King entrusted your care to your mother's cousin, so you would continue to be raised to understand both your cultures."
"Petra." I whispered.
"Mmm." He replied. "Until a conversation was overheard between the King and Petra the day before his murder, only four others knew of your existence; The King, Petra, the King's second, and the High Priestess and Seeress, Yavanni." I nodded, but still, everything he had told me did not add up.
"If only four supposedly knew of my true identity, three now my king father is dead, then how is it to be believed I have any royal blood? Where is the proof?" He rumbled, the sound bursting out as a low chuckle, surprising me.
"Your eyes are a dead giveaway. Fallon, despite her powers, did not inherit Wiscar's blue-green eyes, but you did. I am told by Petra you resemble your mother, but I knew the old Queen Kendra, and there are strong similarities there too including those eyes of yours. You also bear the royal mark."
"The what?"
"A mark of Verden royal blood. It is small and not of common knowledge, but you bear it."
"Where? What is it? How could I not see it?" I decided he was mocking me now, but before I could call him out, low words brushed near my ear, strange, warming.
"Behind your ear, a small golden heart tucked away in your hair line."
"Oh."
"The mark was placed in secret after your birth, by Yavanni. A means to prove your right to the throne, and proof you are a Princess of Verden."
Toss a coin to your Witcher if you enjoyed this chapter.
Questions and comments welcome.
Silver Ashe - He is, but I think he's a bit guilty for causing them, his healing potion packs a punch! And thank you, glad you're enjoying it.
Tobiramamara - Thank you!
blasttyrant - Yes! But one min he's like, I'm a misunderstood outcast, the next he's like, you better not call me a man, I'm a freaking Witcher!
XxXLIFEafterDEATHXxX - They'll get along eventually. :)