Conjunction
Chapter 6 - The Singer
Vizima was a cesspool as far as she could tell. She thought Denerim had been dirty, but it didn't really hold a candle to the level of filth she found when she reached the capital city of Temeria. She'd had to travel through a section of the city called Old Vizima, which seemed to be a parallel to the Elven alienages of the Fereldan cities, populated primarily with non-humans. Surprisingly, what she would consider the slums of Old Vizima were cleaner and more orderly than the main city was. In the city proper there were dank alleys littered with trash, sad, dejected looking prostitutes lurking on corners, homeless vagrants everywhere begging for coin.
She found a small stable in Vizima's Trade Quarter that looked somewhat clean, and determined after speaking with the proprietor that it was a reputable establishment and decided she would take a chance and board her horse there for the evening. She slung her pack over one shoulder and saddle bags over the other and set off in the direction of the inn the stable master had directed her towards.
She started hearing the screams coming from an alley as she rounded a bend past a cluster of shops that had closed for the evening. She stopped to listen for a second, then started walking purposefully towards the noise, gesturing to Lusa to hold back. When she got close she could hear the frantic muffled cries of a woman in distress and the eager, depraved laughter of some men who had set upon her. The sounds were all too familiar to her and she felt rage roiling in her gut. She dropped her belongings in a dark corner by a building and grabbed her staff from its holster on her back. She stepped quietly forward hoping to catch the men off guard.
When she peeked around a stack of discarded crates of rotting vegetables she could see them. There were three large men, two of whom were restraining a dark haired young woman while the third was intent on violating her. Solona didn't even stop to think when she saw them. Using her staff to channel the spell, she paralyzed the entire group. When they ceased moving, she walked forward slowly and deliberately, holding her staff out behind her slightly. Once she was within range of the man who had been in the process of violating the young woman, she raised her staff up and turned it so the sharp, bladed end was aimed at his throat. In a quick sudden sweep and a sharp yelp of rage she beheaded him and then stepped forward and kicked his lifeless body to the side.
Behind her, she heard Lusa barking loudly but was too consumed with rage to process it. She had an audience that she was unaware of at the mouth of the alleyway.
The man and the dwarf who had happened by stood there entranced for a moment, then the man said to the dwarf, "Zoltan, do you think we should help?"
The dwarf replied, "Och, no, Dandelion. Don't get in the way of a tempest if you can help it."
The man continued staring at the scene unfolding before them. A pretty young woman with short, snow-white hair was very gracefully executing three thugs at the other end of the alley. She had just chopped the head off one man, had set the second aflame with a spell, and was aiming one end of her staff at the third who had just regained control of his limbs and was attempting to run towards them to get away.
Dandelion asked, "Does she remind you of anyone?"
The dwarf replied, "She reminds me of my ex-fiance when she caught me... uh... nevermind."
The man said, "No, I mean the way she fights. That determination. She has style like she's done it her whole life. Doesn't she remind you of Geralt?"
The dwarf's heavy brows creased and he watched more intently, then said, "Aye, I see what you mean. She's definitely his type."
The man scowled at the dwarf, "That's not what I meant, I mean she fights like he does, with the same determination and deadly intent." But he thought, She is exactly Geralt's type, but Geralt isn't in Vizima today, and I am. I wonder if she likes music...
The last thug ran to the exit where the man and dwarf were standing, but was confronted by a snarling black dog, fear plastered on his face. Just as he glanced up at Dandelion and squeaked out, "help!" his head exploded with the force of Solona's spell, showering them in a fine mist of blood, bone, and brains as his body slumped to the ground. She swung her staff around, a look of rage still transforming her features into something otherworldly. When Dandelion met her eyes he held them for a split second then was compelled to look away, a sense of self preservation taking over. She continued to look around for another victim to inflict her wrath upon.
The pitiful sound of a woman crying seemed to finally break her out of her trance. She dropped her staff and rushed over to the young woman who was curled up beside a pile of crates shivering and sobbing uncontrollably, trying in vain to cover her naked, damaged flesh with the remaining shreds of her dress. The young woman flinched when Solona reached out her hands to her.
"It's alright, they're gone now. They'll never hurt you again," Solona said in a soothing voice that still carried the brittle edge of rage.
The young woman sniffed and looked up into her face. "They're... gone?"
She looked around the alleyway, dubious that her assailants had actually been vanquished. Her eyes rested on the headless body of one of them, his trousers still crumpled around his thighs and the weapon he'd recently used in his assault still erect and pointing audaciously at the darkening sky. The young woman turned her head and vomited on the ground beside her.
Solona sat rubbing her back gently. "Come with me, I'll take you home," Solona said, urging the young woman to rise to her feet.
When she reached the mouth of the alley, she found Lusa keeping guard against an attractive, colorfully dressed man with a plumed hat and a lute strung across his back. Standing next to him was a scraggly dwarf with a short, tawny beard and a funny haircut. Both of them were attempting to clean the remnants of the last thug's demise off their skin and clothing.
"We would have helped," the man said, his voice low and sweet, "but it seemed like you had things under control..."
Solona snorted at him. "Give me your cloak," she said.
Her tone didn't leave room for objection so Dandelion obliged, handing over his soft, purple, and practically brand-new but now slightly blood-spattered cloak. Solona took it and draped it around the shoulders of the young woman next to her.
"If you two want to help, first we're going to take her home, and then I am going to need a strong drink. One of you can carry my things." She gestured toward the pile of her belongings still lying in the dark corner nearby and went to retrieve her staff.
Dandelion immediately rushed over and grabbed up her pack and saddle bags with little effort.
"You're stronger than you look," Solona said to him, teasing. Her rage had subsided and now she was feeling rather punchy and something about this man made him seem like an easy target.
"The name is Dandelion, the famous troubador, at your service," the man said, bowing before her with a flourish, and nearly losing his balance beneath the weight of her belongings, "and this is my good friend Zoltan Chivay," he gestured towards the dwarf, who gave her an equally deferential bow.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Solona replied with a smirk. "My name is Solona," she said, "and that's Lusa." She gestured towards the dog who sat licking himself as though the world depended on it.
She turned to the young woman next to her and asked quietly, "Can you show us how to get to where you live?"
The young woman nodded, keeping her eyes cast toward the ground she mumbled something softly. Solona nodded and began walking, her arm slung protectively over the other woman's shoulders and her new entourage following along behind.
They navigated their way around the winding alleys, the young woman pointing out the turns, and several minutes later finally arrived at the door to a ramshackle building she indicated was her home. Solona turned to the men and told them to wait, leaving them with Lusa outside the door as she went inside to make sure that the young woman would be okay.
The two men stood awkwardly on the doorstep, eyeing the large dog that stood watching them intently.
"Nice… pony," Dandelion said to the dog, nervously.
"Don't tell me you're scared of a pup, Dandelion," Zoltan said with a chuckle and reached into a small pouch at his hip.
Lusa's ears perked up when he heard the crinkle of paper and he sniffed the air around the dwarf curiously. A second later Zoltan produced a strip of dried meat and held it out gingerly to the dog, who was easily as tall as he was. The dog scarfed the treat down greedily, his cropped tail wagging and causing his entire backside to wiggle in delight. When he was finished with the treat he looked back at the dwarf expectantly.
"I can't give you all the treats, pooch," Zoltan said. "Perhaps if you don't eat us in the next hour you can have some more."
Lusa whined and looked crestfallen, then turned to look at Dandelion, hopeful.
"Don't look at me, dog," the bard said, holding up his hands, I don't generally carry lunch around with me."
The dog snorted in disapproval and then curled up next to the dwarf with his head on his paws.
"Looks like I have a new friend," the dwarf smiled and scratched Lusa affectionately behind the ears.
"A new friend who could swallow you whole from the looks of him," Dandelion muttered, and pulled his lute around his shoulders to begin tuning it for his performance later that evening. After testing a few chords he started playing a jaunty tune to warm up his fingers and his voice. As he started the second verse of the song he suddenly heard an unholy noise that caused him to falter and miss the next note in alarm. Turning to look to the side, he saw Zoltan doubled over in laughter and the big dog next to him sitting up on his haunches and howling melodically to the sky. When the music stopped, the dog looked at him and barked, his butt wiggling in excitement.
"Looks like he's a singer, too!" Zoltan said between hearty guffaws.
Dandelion began to strum the lute again, slowly, and the dog took up howling again, almost in harmony with the music. Dandelion continued playing and singing more enthusiastically, the next verse barely intelligible between the laughter he was unable to repress at hearing his new accompaniment.
After a minute, the door opened and Solona poked her head out.
"What the fuck are you doing to my dog?"
Both the bard and the dog grew silent and turned their heads to look at her with equally guilty expressions. Lusa whined faintly, and Dandelion made a similar noise.
Zoltan finally said, "Sorry for the noise, we were just - ah - entertaining ourselves while we waited for you. Your horse has a lovely singing voice, youknow." He grinned broadly at the mildly amused look she gave him. The door closed again briefly and then she came out, Dandelion's purple cloak slung over one arm.
"So, where can a girl get a drink?" she asked, unceremoniously tossing Dandelion's cloak to him.
"I have just the place," Dandelion replied, picking up his earlier burden to follow her down the street. "As it happens, we were just on our way to the New Narakort before we saw you ah..." he trailed off not sure how he could adequately describe exactly what he had witnessed.
Solona said immediately, cutting him off, "Sounds perfect. Just lead the way!"
"Right this way," Dandelion said, pointing the direction and falling into step beside her. Zoltan and Lusa followed behind them, the dwarf sureptitiously sneaking treats to his new friend most of the way.
For several paces he met her stride and kept shooting sidelong glances at her. After the third or fourth time she noticed him doing it she finally said, "Is there something you want to ask me, Dandelion?"
He was truly at a loss for words. Him. The famous troubadour who always had the right comeback for anything. What the hell? He looked at her for a moment and his heart skipped a beat. She was just so pretty, but not in a normal pretty-girl way. She looked dangerous, too - maybe it was the scar on her cheek - and that deadly staff she carried. He had seen her in action with the staff just moments ago, and for some reason watching her fight had piqued his interest more than usual.
He said, "Ah, so what brings you to Vizima?" As if you couldn't think of anything more inane to ask, he thought, cringing to himself.
She glanced over at him. "Well, if you really want to know, I'm trying to find a certain Witcher."
Dandelion stopped short suddenly. There was a hollow, melodic thunk and a twang and an "oof" and then loud curses from behind them.
"What the hell did you stop for?" Zoltan complained, rubbing his head where it had just collided with Dandelion's lute.
She looked back at Dandelion, one eyebrow raised, "Do you know any Witchers?"
A "certain" Witcher she had said... there was more than one Witcher. Maybe she wasn't looking for him, maybe she was looking for one of the other Witchers. His gut told him otherwise but he ignored it for now.
"Um, well... it depends on which Witcher you wish to find," he said, then laughed nervously at his unintentional alliteration. He started walking next to her again, his gut clenched in apprehension.
She could sense his sudden unease. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.
"No, nothing! Why do you ask?" he blurted quickly.
"No reason..." she said, looking at him skeptically. "I'm looking for the one they call the White Wolf or Gwynbleidd," she said.
Dammit, he thought. Dandelion tried to sound as casual as possible when he answered even though he felt a subtle sinking feeling. Not only was she Geralt's type, she was actually actively looking for the bastard. No doubt because she had heard about what a fantastic lay he was.
Trying to sound nonchalant, he said, "Oh! Him! Why as a matter of fact, the White Wolf and I are old friends. Yep! We go wayyy back." He didn't really want to know, but for some reason he found himself asking anyway, "What do you want with him anyway?"
She seemed cagey, saying only, "I need his help with something… important."
She said nothing more. So maybe she'd just heard how good Geralt was at solving problems and was looking for him to help with something particularly complicated.
Feeling a bit more confident now, Dandelion asked with a concerned and he hoped a courageous and heroic expression, "If you don't mind me asking, what do you need his help with? Is there anything I can do?"
She smiled at him disarmingly and hooked her arm through his, saying only, "What you can do is buy me a drink when we get to this tavern we're going to."
Tavern was an understatement. In her plush room at the New Narakort Lusa lay napping as she bathed and changed into something more appropriate to fit in with the mostly noble clientele that seemed to frequent the establishment in the evenings. She had been surprised when they reached the place as it seemed like an oasis of gentility amidst the squalor evident in the city outside its doors. She learned that the reason for the city's poor conditions was the recent war and the death of Temeria's king, and there was some conflict about allowing his daughter and heir to ascend to the throne. Solona had no desire to get involved in politics since she knew how utterly bogged down she could get if she did. She needed to stay on track and was hoping she could avoid any political conflicts if possible.
More important was finding information on the Witcher. The bard Dandelion had sounded sincere when he'd boasted of having a connection to the man she sought. She would have to figure out a way to wheedle more information out of him if she got a chance. She had sensed his attraction to her so thought it highly possible that, were she to get him into a compromising position, she would be able to extract something useful from him. And he was extremely attractive, and charming, so she was actually looking forward to it. The two weeks since she'd come through the Eluvian had been largely solitary and she had realized along the way how much she missed the easy camaraderie of her little party, especially certain parts - at night - in her tent - involving a certain former templar. Needless to say she was looking forward to some companionship of a particular nature.
She had few options to choose from for evening attire. She could either wear her dragonhide armor, which was beautiful but really only acceptable for a formal affair at court (or for actual fighting); her other option was a red doeskin dress tailored in a popular Orlesian style that she had bought just before leaving Denerim. It had been a highly unusual find but had suited her needs perfectly. She had wanted clothing she could pack that would look good even after being shoved in her pack for days on end, so she had foregone any silks and tried to restrict herself to more durable materials. The doeskin dress was much more understated than the dresses she had seen the other noblewomen wearing who had just started arriving at the tavern when she was checking in. It was a relatively simple design but had dozens of tiny buttons which she had requested the tailor replace with a set of custom black dragonbone buttons she'd had carved into the shapes of small roses. The dress was form fitting in the bodice with a plunging neckline, a flared skirt, and simple bell sleeves. Once buttoned, the effect was rather alluring, her breasts pushed up and together making them seem larger than they actually were. In that factor it would blend in with the other noblewomen at least. Apparently revealing clothing was in vogue among noblewomen in this world.
After she finished dressing she sat at the dressing table scowling at herself in the mirror in the elaborately appointed – and not inexpensive – room she had paid for an hour earlier. Mostly she was scowling at her hair. It was beginning to grow out and was starting to curl ever so slightly, to her dismay, but was in that irritating in between stage and she really had no idea what to do with it. She finally just bent over and shook it vigorously then ran her fingers through it once more in irritation, trying to force it out of her eyes, and got up to go down to the tavern for dinner.
When they had first arrived a couple hours earlier she'd been surprised at both the the stature of the clientele and the apparent turnout at first, until the innkeeper had recognized Dandelion and it was as though she were nonexistent next to the troubadour. Dandelion's demeanor had changed, too. Suddenly he was acting the spoiled celebrity and making irrational demands, which she couldn't help but laugh at even though she had only been acquainted with him for short time. As he walked off amidst a small entourage of assistants and hangers on he looked back and gave her a flirtatious wink and blew her a kiss that made her laugh out loud.
Now she left her room and walked down the stairs towards the main room of the New Narakort. She stopped for a second on the landing to listen to the music. She could hear the melodic notes of Dandelion's lute rising up amidst the dissonant din of the tavern noises. As she walked down the steps she could hear his voice as he began to sing, deep and rich. He was good. She heard Lusa behind her bark quietly.
"You keep quiet tonight, okay?" she whispered, turning to him and giving him a hard look. He whined softly then licked her hand in acknowledgement. "Good boy," she said and scratched his head. "Maybe he'll ask for a duet later," she said in appeasement to the hound. He whuffed back hopefully.
They continued down the stairs into the main room of the tavern. The room seemed to grow quieter when she entered, except for the melody coming from the far side of the room where Dandelion was perched by the fireplace on a cushioned stool playing his lute and singing. She looked around and saw that most everyone's eyes, including the bard's, were aimed at her.
I must be underdressed or something, she thought, self conscious and trying to ignore the stares. The innkeeper was suddenly at her elbow and showing her to an empty table near the front of the room. She realized then that the attention was probably about the famous troubadour she had arrived with, and likely had nothing to do with her. He must really be very popular. She looked up at him and smiled faintly as she took her seat. He smiled back, a twinkle in his eye as he continued to pluck his lute and sing.
Lusa found a spot under her table where he could lay facing the music. He seemed as enraptured by it as the rest of the patrons, which she found infinitely amusing. The dog had behaved the same way in their camp the past year whenever Leliana would pull out her lute and sing them songs.
A moment later she was joined at her table by the dwarf, Zoltan. He sat in the chair across from her, thunking a pair of heavy tankards down on the table between them and sliding one over to her.
"Your drink, as requested, m'lady," he nodded at her.
"My savior!" she said, grinning at him.
She raised her tankard in salute and he clanked his own against it then drank deeply. She turned and raised it again to Dandelion who nodded back ever so slightly as he continued his song, and then she took a hearty swallow.
"Wow, that is good, strong ale," she said to the dwarf, raising her eyebrows appreciatively.
"Aye, the best in Temeria!" he said, "Though not the cheapest. But I got lucky at dice tonight so drinks are on me!"
"I'll drink to that!" she said and took another swallow.
Zoltan laughed, "A girl after my own heart."
They sat drinking while Dandelion continued to play. His music was as intoxicating as the ale she was drinking and she found herself becoming lost in the melody. Then she started listening to the lyrics. It sounded like a love song at first, but had a sad note, and from the lyrics it was clear that it was about the Witcher.
"Odd," she heard Zoltan say, absently, "he usually ends the set with that one."
She looked across the rim of her drink at him and set the tankard down before taking another sip.
"Do you know the Witcher, too?" she asked.
The dwarf nodded. "Aye. Geralt of Rivia," he said. "He is an old, old friend. Good in a fight. Better with the ladies," he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
She laughed softly. "I had heard of that reputation already, believe it or not."
"Well, Dandelion's songs do exaggerate to a degree," the dwarf confided, "but not about the man's prowess... or so I hear."
Solona raised her eyebrows at that, and the dwarf shrugged.
Curious, she asked, "This song he's playing now. It sounds very sad. Who is the woman in it?"
"The Witcher's lost love. The sorceress, Yennefer. She died some years ago," he said somberly, staring into his ale.
"That's sad," she said, the music eliciting a melancholy in her suddenly that made her chest tighten in empathy. "Did he love her very much?"
"That you would have to ask him," the Dwarf replied. "I know they had their moments, and they spent more time apart than together. The child finally brought them together in the end, but then it was too late I think."
"They had a child together? I had heard Witchers were infertile."
"Aye, as far as anyone knows they are - sorceresses, too. But no, the child was... adopted you could say. A special girl, too. If it hadn't been for her, Geralt would be dead as well."
"How did his lover die?" she asked, and Zoltan gestured towards the bard so she stopped to listen to the end of the song.
Dandelion sang of a fierce battle in which the hero was mortally wounded, and his beautiful sorceress lover died attempting to save his life, so the young girl that had been like a daughter to them spirited their bodies away to another plane where she sacrificed herself to revive the Witcher and send him back. Only she returned him to the mortal plane without his memories so that he wouldn't feel the grief of losing his love.
When the song ended, Zoltan said, "His most famous song is about the girl, actually. The Lion Cub of Cintra, it's called. He hardly plays it anymore, though, since she died... usually only upon request."
Solona had to take a moment to regain her composure at the end of the song. I almost forgot how maudlin I get when I drink, she thought, and pushed her tankard away for the time being.
Solona said, "In the song, it sounded like two women sacrificed themselves for him, was that part true?"
"Ah, well, the exact details are… ah... open to interpretation," Zoltan said. "Dandelion wasn't there for the resurrection itself. His information comes from another source. It seems he has some mysterious muse that fills in the blanks for him. She comes to him in dreams, he says," Zoltan snorted at the idea and took a swig of his ale.
Realizing that his tankard was dry he signaled a serving girl to refill their drinks, ordering them supper as well. At the sound of the word "supper," Lusa popped his head above the table, jostling everything atop it.
"Bring a serving for the pup as well," he said to the serving girl, whose eyes became as big as platters upon seeing the beast that had arisen from beneath their table. Lusa panted at the girl amiably as she scurried off to put in their order and refill their ale.
"Anyway," Zoltan continued, "according to Dandelion's muse, Geralt was saved for something bigger. The girl he had helped raise was apparently a prophetess and knew he needed to live to fulfill some higher calling. No explicit details, though... Prophets can be assholes that way."
Solona laughed softly and said, "Not to mention sending him back with amnesia. Is that part true?"
"Aye," Zoltan said. "We all thought he was dead after the massacre in Rivia. Then one day they found his body, still mostly alive, and carried him back to Kaer Morhen. He still hasn't recovered all his memories, though. Sometimes I think that might have been a blessing, but still... to lose your past must feel like losing your entire identity."
Solona nodded. There were certainly things she would prefer to forget, but there were too many good memories that she thought she would feel lost without.
Their refills and dinner came, along with a large platter of what looked more like an offering to a vengeful god than a mere meal, which was laid before Lusa who dove into it with abandon.
"Is Kaer Morhen his home, then?" she asked between bites.
Zoltan replied, "Aye as much as Witchers can be said to have a home since they mostly travel the countryside killing monsters. They spend their winters there."
"Have you ever been there?" Solona asked.
He gave her a calculating look before he responded. "What is it you're after with the Witcher if you don't mind my asking."
Realizing she'd finally hit the limit of his capacity to share, she set down her fork and stared at her plate for several seconds trying to decide how to phrase her answer.
"You spoke of something greater he was meant for... Saved through the sacrifice of two women who cared for him deeply."
Zoltan nodded and said, "If you believe the songs, aye."
"Do you believe them?" she asked, "and do you believe in Dandelion's muse?"
The dwarf took a swallow of ale and gazed at her steadily for a second. Grudgingly he finally admitted with a terse nod, "Aye. I've seen too much of it not to."
Solona took a deep breath and continued, "I have a muse of a sort as well, who sent me to find him. He and I have a common purpose. I need to find him before I can continue with my mission. I realize you are his friend and as such are obligated to protect him, but I don't mean him any harm, if that's what you're concerned about. Not only does he have information I need, I need him. If you can tell me how to find him I would be in your debt."
Zoltan nodded, seeming to come to a decision. "I don't know where he is now... just that he is on his way to Kaer Morhen for the winter. I can bring you maps in the morning."
She nodded her thanks and continued eating for a few minutes. After a while she looked up at the dwarf and said, "Zoltan, I truly appreciate your help but I have to ask, why did you trust me with what you've told me? You do seem very protective of him... The Witcher, I mean. And you only just met me today."
He smiled at her, and said, "I have many talents, but one I'm sure of is that I'm a good judge of character. After seeing what you did today in that alley I'm really not the least bit surprised that you're here because you're trying to find him. And, if I know Geralt, he no doubt would want to be found by a woman like you." As matter of fact it's due time she found him, Zoltan thought as he looked at her appraisingly.
Their conversation lulled for a time and they contented themselves with their meal and the music, and another round of ale after they drained the ones they'd been served with supper. Solona became increasingly enraptured with the music the more she drank, and more enraptured with the musician as well. He is pretty, she decided after finally taking a moment to observe him fully. His music seemed to remind her of pleasant but bittersweet memories of the years just before she had been taken to the Circle. He sang with his eyes closed for most of the ballads but occasionally he would glance her way and give her a slight smile, which she returned with increasing intensity as the night wore on.
Much later in the evening a majority of the audience had filtered out leaving behind only the most loyal, or drunk, patrons behind. Dandelion ended his show with a rowdy sing-along that had everyone up dancing and clapping in time. Lusa even roused himself after his meal had left him nearly comatose for most of the evening, and took up singing along, to the delight of Dandelion's other fans. When the song was finally finished, Dandelion said goodbyes to adoring fans, and graciously declined the obvious advances of a few women who seemed to give Solona the evil eye as they passed by her on their way out the door.
Dandelion spoke softly to a serving girl, then sat down at their table with a big grin, "I'd say tonight was a great success, thanks to you in no small part," he said, looking at Solona.
"What would I have to do with it?" she asked, perplexed.
He grinned at her. "Why, an exotically beautiful new face who shows up at the tavern with the famous troubadour... and that exquisite dress..." he said, his gaze lingering on her bosom. "Rumors travel fast in Vizima. By the end of the evening it was standing room only... I don't know if you noticed."
She hadn't, actually, being so enthralled with his performance.
He continued, "I think most of the later arrivals were here to see you more than they were here to see me. Curious about what special girl had stolen the troubadour's heart, no doubt," he said, smiling at her alluringly. "I couldn't have planned it better myself," he said, clearly pleased with the outcome.
"I'm glad to have helped, inadvertent as it was," she said, amused and fully aware that he was attempting to seduce her with his fame. She decided she would just enjoy it and see where it led.
She said, "If I had known I was the real entertainment for the evening I would have attempted to put on a better show."
"Nonsense!" Dandelion said. "You were perfect." He grinned at her and leaned towards her, giving her a lingering kiss on the cheek.
Dandelion's supper arrived, along with another round of ale for the table. Zoltan took his leave – and his ale – with the excuse that the dice wouldn't wait forever, and walked off to the other side of the room with his new best friend Lusa beside him.
Dandelion leaned towards her slightly and asked with a charming smile, "So, what did you think? Are you an unabashed fan now?"
She leaned her chin on her palm and said, with a coquettish look, "I could listen to you sing all night." She thought she could see a swell of pride in him, but it went away the second she said, "But I have to ask, are all your songs about the Witcher?"
"No, not all of them... just the most popular ones," he said evasively as he dove into his meal.
"Your songs are truly beautiful," she said. "I don't think I've ever heard anything like them before. I would love to hear one of your other songs... that isn't about the Witcher, if you cared to share."
He looked up and gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, laying his fork aside and pushing his nearly empty plate away from him. He took a long swallow of his ale and then picked up his lute with a gleam in his eye.
"As a matter of fact, I've been working on something new and I think you're just the person to hear it for the first time."
He started to play. The music was energetic and the lyrics were expansive. It sounded like a heroic song of war and battle, until she started listening more closely and the events began sounding all too familiar to her.
He's singing about me … about my quest to end the Blight in Ferelden. How does he know all that?
She grew very quiet and when he finished it he looked at her and said with a dejected tone, "You don't like it... well there is one other that goes along with it that you might like better."
And he played a love song, that was absolutely beautiful... and clearly based on her relationship with Alistair. And just hearing about it portrayed in that way made her suddenly long for the former templar, why the hell did I leave? He loved me! But she knew why and she knew now more than ever that she needed to put all of that behind her if she was going to succeed at this. She thought it must be some cruel joke that Dandelion would have written these songs and had played them just for her.
She sat gazing into her ale for awhile and when she looked up finally a couple minutes after the second song had ended, Dandelion was sitting across from her with a very concerned expression, still idly strumming random tunes on his lute.
"I'm sorry," she said, truly apologetic, "those songs were beautiful... they just brought back some rough memories for me."
Dandelion set his lute aside and scooted his chair closer to hers. "Anything you feel like talking about? I'm a fantastic listener."
She laughed softly, "I'm sure you are... " she hesitated for a moment then continued, "Dandelion, this might sound odd, but I need to know where you heard those stories that you just sang of."
"Um, well, it's hard to say precisely," he said, sounding evasive. "I have several sources for material..."
"Zoltan said earlier that you have a special muse. Is that where these songs came from?"
The bard shot a dark look over at the dwarf on the other side of the room and then turned back to her.
"Ah, yes," he nodded. "My muse... she is a veritable font of stories but it seems like they're rather focused on specific events or people. Hence most of my songs being about Geralt. But these new ones are special, I think," he sounded excited. "Finally I get to write songs that are about someone new. It's refreshing, really. I just wish I knew the subject."
She wondered for a moment whether or not she should tell him, and finally decided things might become more complicated than she needed right now if she did, and she really wasn't sure if she wanted to deal with the emotional turmoil that would undoubtedly accompany any explanation. She still felt pretty raw just from hearing the songs. Music always seemed to do that to her.
"I think I'll head to bed," she said, downing the last swallow of her ale and standing up.
The bard hopped up and held out his arm. "The least I can do is walk the lady to her door," he said with an entirely too handsome smile as far as she was concerned. She took his arm, glancing back to see Lusa attentively watching Zoltan's dice game across the room. He would be fine with the dwarf for the evening.
The bard escorted her up the flight of stairs and down the hallway to her door. When they stopped there, he hesitated, uncertain whether he should pursue his attraction further. But she had seemed emotionally fragile when he'd played those songs for her and he didn't like taking advantage of women in that kind of state. Finally he just gave her a chaste peck on the cheek, said, "Sweet dreams," and then turned to go. As he was about to walk away, he felt her grab his hand and pull him back, saying softly, "Wait."
When he came back she saw the look of eager, hopeful lust in his eyes that managed to set her fire burning, at the same time turning to ashes any residual regret that had been lingering inside. His embrace was gentle, too gentle, but his kiss was fierce and wanton. She turned and pushed him gently against her door, leaning against him, their kiss lingering. His fingers gripped her hips but he seemed hesitant to move them lower or higher, so she reached down and grabbed each hand in hers, twining her fingers through his and pushing them into the door up above his head where she held them there with a sly smile on her face.
With the weight of her torso against his, she could feel his response to her easily and ground her hips into his, eliciting a soft moan from him that made her smile. She leaned in and kissed him again, slowly, savoring the newness of the flavors and sensations of his mouth under hers.
Without warning, she reached behind him and unlatched her door, their combined weight causing it to open abruptly. He lost his balance briefly and she emitted a mischievous giggle, but he regained his feet inside her darkened room and she followed him in, closing the door behind her and turning around to secure the lock. She felt him ease up behind her in the dark as she threw the latch, his hot breath on her neck making her quiver, his lips barely brushing the skin of her neck. His hands came around her waist and slid up slowly, pausing just at the tops of her breasts. She felt the subtle pull of fabric as he began to slowly undo her buttons, starting at the top and working his way down. He continued nuzzling her neck as he worked on her buttons, and then she felt one of his large, gentle hands slide inside her bodice and tenderly cup one breast, his deft fingers caressing her nipple slightly, making her breath quicken and causing heat to spread between her thighs.
He turned her around, pressing her back against the door. He kissed her roughly on the mouth and bent to flick his tongue over the tip of one exposed breast, then bent deeper, planting both knees on the floor. She felt his hands slide under her skirt and up the backs of her thighs in the dark, then back around to her hips, sliding up until he grasped the waistband of her smallclothes and pulled them down gently.
"Boots..." she said to him softly.
He stopped what he was doing to obey her brief command, blindly but expertly unlacing each of her high leather boots and pulling them off her feet. Her stockings followed, and then her smallclothes. He ran his hands up her naked thighs under her dress once more for good measure, gripping her bottom gently when he reached the top, and then he pushed her skirt up, exposing the true prize he had been after all along.
He stopped what he was doing suddenly and she felt her skirt drop as he moved away from her and started fumbling somewhere else in the room.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, then thought, why am I whispering? She conjured a small flame in her palm to illuminate the room and saw him pawing at a table nearby.
He blinked at her and said, embarrassed, "I wanted a light so I could look at you. It's hard to write songs about things if you can't actually see them, youknow."
She made a faint gesture towards one of the lanterns nearby and the wick lit brightly, then she did the same to the others in the room.
"All you had to do was ask," she said, smiling at him and moving barefooted towards the elaborately canopied bed in the center of the room.
"This is really your room?" he asked, looking around and clearly impressed. "I don't think I've ever seen this room... I think they only hold it for kings and whatnot. How did you get it?"
Perplexed at his question she answered, "I paid for it?"
Fascinating woman, Dandelion thought. Maybe tomorrow I'll have to find out her story and write a song about it. But tonight there are much more important things to worry about. She had just finished unbuttoning the last button of her dress and it was sliding down her soft, white shoulders to the floor, leaving her milky skin utterly bare and gleaming in the lantern light. She was leaning back against the high bed with a smile on her face as he came towards her. She looks like she needs to be kissed, he thought, among other things, his lust rising harsh and fast.
When he reached her he gave her another deep, lingering kiss and then sank to his knees before her, sliding his hands softly up the outside of her thighs, then back down. Red-gold curls and pale flesh were all he saw as he leaned in to get closer acquainted. Almost unconsciously he urged one of her legs up to his shoulder, resting her foot there and finally exposing her delicate pink flesh. He gazed in reverence for a moment, then reached out his fingers with an expert touch and caressed her gently, feeling her wetness behind the glistening ruff. She moaned softly. He looked up to see her face and met eyes that seemed to plead with him. Holding her gaze, he flicked his tongue out, slipping it between her petal-soft folds. Her low moan of ecstasy encouraged him to continue, so he closed his eyes in enjoyment and took another taste. He heard another soft groan and realized it was coming from his own throat, I might come just tasting her, he though. He was determined to remain focused, however, and slid his hands back up to her bottom, lifting her up onto the bed.
When he stood he felt her legs wrap around his hips and pull him towards her.
She said softly, "You're wearing way too many clothes," and started unlacing his breeches. He silently agreed with her and worked to rectify the problem as quickly as possible.
A moment later he was naked, his clothing in a puddle on the carpet beneath him.
She looked up at him with a strange expression and said, "Are you keeping that on?" pointing towards his head and the plumed hat that sat atop it.
He'd forgotten about the hat completely, so in an effort to maintain his dignity he smiled at her as seductively as possible and said, slyly, "Of course I am. The plume is the source of all my powers. Just wait and I'll prove it to you."
This elicited a low laugh from her which caused his cock to twitch. He moved towards her again and she began to crawl slowly backwards up the bed to the mountain of overstuffed pillows at the top, which she unceremoniously punched to the floor. He followed her, climbing onto the bed in nothing but his plumed hat and crawling towards her on hands and knees.
From his vantage point he had the most exquisite view of her from top to bottom. He decided that he would work his way up and taste every inch of her on the way, and maybe take an extra long tour in the middle. His plan backfired quickly when he realized that her feet were extremely ticklish, but once he started moving higher, the responses were less uncontrollable giggling and more "ooh, that's nice..." and "oh, don't stop." He didn't stop.
After what felt like eons he finally made it back to his original goal between her thighs. He heard her moan softly as he spread her apart for easier access and felt her dig her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck, holding him close to her core where his expert tongue began its work. He laughed softly in response to her urging, "don't stop!" then continued in earnest. It lasted for several minutes but all too quickly she was urging him to stop. He sat back on his heels and looked at her. Beautiful and deadly. What a fantastic combination for a song, he thought, his eyes grazing the large scar that graced her breast. The sound of her voice drew his eyes back to hers when she said, "I need you to fuck me. Now."
He happily obliged, moving to cover her body with his own. When he drew close, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and hooked a leg behind one thigh. Before he had a chance to think she had him on his back, knocking his hat askew. She straddled his waist, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and picked up the hat, placing it on her own head. He grinned up at her in amusement.
"Now we'll see who has the power," she said, her mouth turned up at one corner.
As if to illustrate her power, she glanced around the room briefly and waved a hand in a small circular motion in the air. All but the nearest of the lanterns were extinguished, leaving them in a dim, sultry light. She slid her hands slowly up his chest emitting small crackles of electricity through the dusting of soft, dark hair that covered it, and then leaned down to kiss him on the lips, her nipples barely brushing his chest. With one hand she reached between them, gently grasped his hard length and guided him into her. He groaned softly against her mouth, raising his hips up to meet her. All coherent thought left them both as they gave themselves over to desire.
She awoke to a cold, grey morning and felt the solid weight and warmth of Dandelion's body next to her, still asleep with one arm draped over her torso. She turned sleepily to look at him and saw he was still just as pretty in the light of the grey day as he had been the evening before after several pints of ale. There was a small wrenching in her gut when she thought about how much he reminded her of Alistair. Alistair and Zevran both, really. He had a combination of the former templar's looks and wit and the assassin's deft skill as a lover. She hadn't thought of Zevran since she left Ferelden, but the memory of their one night together rose prominently in her mind as she watched Dandelion sleep.
She and Alistair had been skirting around their feelings for some time already. When they returned from the Frostback Mountains with the Ashes of Andraste Alistair had seemed particularly distant for some reason she still didn't understand. That evening after supper she had presented Zevran with the Antivan leather boots she'd found in Haven and they had gotten to talking... about their mission, about his life as a Crow, about other things. She still wasn't quite sure whether he had been actively trying to seduce her or if one thing had just led to another. Either way, it had been by far one of the most fantastic nights of sex in her life, including the taint-infused lustful romps she and Alistair had made a habit of once he finally took control of things. Which wasn't that long after Zevran, now that I think of it.
He certainly knew his way around a woman's body, she thought, looking at the sleeping bard, and felt the telltale heat start rising in her. She watched him sleep for a moment longer, then slid one hand slowly under the blankets between his thighs, stroking him gently. His flesh responded almost instantly to her touch, which made her smile. She heard him moan softly in his sleep. Once he felt sufficiently erect, she gently pulled the blankets away from his waist and mounted him, slowly guiding him into her ready warmth as she had the evening before, but rather than fucking him with energetic abandon as she had the first time, she took her time, moving slowly and languidly, watching his gradual awakening beneath her. After a few minutes she saw his brows crease and his hands moved up to touch her thighs, as though searching to determine whether he was experiencing phantom sensations or real ones. His fingers found solid flesh and gripped her thighs tightly. At the same time, she saw his creased brow relax and a slow smile spread across his face.
His eyes opened into narrow slits as his hips rose up to meet her rhythm. "Good morning," he murmured sleepily and was met by a lusty smile from her. Needing to feel more of her, he braced himself with his feet and sat up, wrapping his arms around her torso, nuzzling her breasts when he reached them. She twined her fingers into his hair and moaned softly at the feel of his mouth on her skin, trailing kisses from her chest up her throat. This was just the distraction I needed, she thought, bending her head to kiss his upturned mouth.
They continued the slow, deliberate fucking, speeding up only when they were approaching climax. She heard the rain start amidst a crash of thunder when she felt him come and she followed shortly after.
Next Chapter: On the road again.