Conjunction

Chapter 20 - Brothers and Wolves

Solona descended the winding stone steps from her room in the early hours of morning. The top of the stairs were open to her room at the summit of the tower and had once continued all the way to the first floor of the fortress, but a portion of the lower section had been destroyed in the siege from decades past. There were few enough Witchers remaining to manage the complicated repairs, so she had to take a rather circuitous route between her room and the rest of the castle. At the bottom of the serviceable section of staircase was a small landing with a short flight of steps that led directly up through an open archway into a large room. She stepped through into the sparsely furnished room that until recently had been empty save for a few chests being stored there. With the addition of Bekim, Geralt had felt the need to relocate, giving the boy his old room and taking the empty room that adjoined Solona's tower.

The remainder of the wing contained Bekim's room at one end of the hall and a library opposite what was now Geralt's room. Further down the hall was Vesemir's room and across from it were two large adjoining rooms that Geralt said belonged to Eskel and Lambert who they were expecting to arrive within the week, and at the far end was a large armory. Eskel and Lambert's rooms were large enough for barracks, Solona thought. Vesemir had told her that at one point there had been an entire additional wing of the castle just as large that had also housed Witchers, but that entire wing had been reduced to rubble during the siege, which had also cost the lives of almost all the Witchers who had been in residence at the time. Vesemir had been the sole survivor from the siege, any other Witchers surviving only by virtue of being absent. When Solona had asked for more details, Vesemir had only said, "Nothing incites people to violent, evil acts so much as fear and hatred. Any number of groups have fallen victim over the centuries. No one is ever safe from it, and least of all those that live their lives on the fringes as we do."

What remained of the castle had been repaired enough to make it livable, but was still a cavernous monolith so drafty that even lit fireplaces in every room barely warmed it on such a bitterly cold morning as this one. Solona could tell it had once been a grand structure with impressive architectural detail. Barrel-vaulted ceilings graced all the large rooms and intricate stained glass panes beautifully illuminated the interior from all the windows. The first floor even had a series of impressive murals painted on all the walls depicting ancient battles fought by the Witchers of old.

Solona shivered as she glanced around Geralt's room. There were few comforts to be seen. Just a simple bed and a nightstand upon which rested the grimoire next to a small oil lamp. Is he still reading that? she wondered briefly. There was large wardrobe next to a ragged mannequin in one corner that Geralt stored his armor on, and pegs on the wall upon which hung his sword belt and cloak. The hide of some unfortunate beast served as a rug on the floor by the bed.

His bed hadn't been slept in, Solona knew, because she had awoken in the pre-dawn hours to the feel of Geralt's solid weight beside her in her own bed, his strong arms wrapped around her. She had awakened like that for several nights in a row since they had returned, Geralt clad only in his breeches lying next to her above her blankets. She had fallen quickly back to sleep comforted by his presence each time, waking later in the morning alone again. She had no memory of him coming to her in the night and she knew nothing had happened between them, but she never questioned it. He had said they shared dreams but she had no memory of any besides the one very intimate dream during her trial. She wondered if the other dreams he said they shared had something to do with his occasional presence in her bed when she awoke.

It had been just over a week since they'd returned to the fortress with Bekim. She had to admit things had been much more comfortable between them since that night. Sleeping beside him again had made her realize that it wasn't really so hard to just be with him and not get wrapped up in wanting him. Those feelings were still there, but something about that night had made it easier to push them aside in favor of more rational yet caring feelings. She wondered briefly if the boy's presence caused them to unconsciously keep themselves in check more around each other. Maybe that was true to a degree, but if anything they'd grown more affectionate with each other than less so, with gentle touches and stolen kisses when they thought no one was watching. It was a new feeling for her and she thought she rather enjoyed it.

She found Geralt in the library with Vesimir and Bekim. Vesimir was giving the boy his morning reading lesson. She had been very surprised when she'd learned the boy could barely read. He seemed so bright and insightful in spite of the fact that he was clearly still grieving over the loss of his family. On the ride back to Kaer Morhen the previous week he had finally found the courage to begin asking questions, and once he started it had been a challenge to finally get him to stop. Geralt had laughed quietly and projected to her, It would be irritating if it didn't remind me of you a little.

"Are you ready?" she asked Geralt quietly when he looked up at her from where he was leaning against a tall bookcase observing the lesson. He nodded and turned to follow her down to the lab. It was time for her third mutagen.

"He seems to be doing well so far," Solona ventured as they walked. "He certainly has the drive to learn."

Geralt nodded and said, "He's a quick study, but he has a long way to go yet with his training. It will be a year or more before we can begin thinking about whether to put him through the Trial. Right now, he's a little prone to distraction, but no doubt that's due to the trauma he suffered. Of course the fact that he has a little crush on you doesn't help any," he said with a sidelong glance and a smile at Solona.

"A crush on me? You're joking, right?" she said with a look of astonishment. The boy had barely spoken to her the past week unless she asked him a direct question. She pondered that for a moment. Could she be that oblivious?

Geralt chuckled softly, "If I were a fifteen-year-old boy and your pretty backside was my first introduction to the body of a woman, I'd be smitten, too."

She snorted at him, "Forget fifteen - you can barely resist me now, and you're how old?"

"You leave my age out of it," he retorted. "Anyway, I'm convinced that your ass has magical properties," he said by way of excuse, giving the subject of their conversation a gentle squeeze that made her squeak softly in surprise and then elbow him in the ribs in retaliation.

When they reached the lab she walked over to the collection of small bottles and picked up the slip of paper wrapped around the third bottle. She read it for a second and murmured, "And the flavor of the day is... Hellhound. Yum. Charisma... does that mean it will make me prettier?" She turned and fluttered her eyelashes in mock seduction at Geralt.

He smiled indulgently and said, "Impossible." In a light tone he explained, "It will enhance the effectiveness of the Axii sign, but also makes people more susceptible to persuasion, even if you aren't actively casting a charm spell on them. It also increases your own resistance to charm effects."

"So how will I know whether it worked or not?" she asked as she uncorked the potion and gave it a wary sniff. She'd become a bit more cautious after the first experience, wanting to make sure she knew what she could expect before swallowing it. The previous week's potion had proved to be uneventful although extremely interesting. There had been few discernible effects upon drinking the frightener eye mutagen, but afterwards it had enhanced her eyesight to a surprising degree, even beyond what she'd experienced after her initial trials had ended. In the past week, her accuracy with a bow had finally begun to rival Geralt's, but she'd hardly believed him when he had told her that Witchers were still nowhere near as adept at archery as the Elves were.

Geralt shrugged at her, "I guess you'll just have to drink it to find out."

She walked to the center of the room, took a seat on the stone table and said, "Bottoms up!" before tossing back the potion.

Geralt stood nearby watching her. He could tell her power was growing at an alarming rate with each mutagen. He'd worked with many young initiates when they were going through the changes and had never witnessed the speed with which Solona's skills were increasing each day. He was just a little bit apprehensive at what would happen with this mutagen, especially after learning how close a psychic connection they had with each other. He made sure he had a strong mental barrier up in anticipation of whatever might occur.

He watched while she stared at the floor waiting, but nothing seemed to be happening. Finally she tilted her head up and met his eyes. In that split second he thought he saw her eyes flash with subtle light and his entire world seemed to rush in on itself, everything in his peripheral vision shattering into pieces leaving only her vividly beautiful figure floating before his eyes. He could see her lips moving (oh, her lips... those lips he longed to kiss) but couldn't hear the sounds coming from them. Some part of him knew she had him in thrall, and he struggled to break away.

"Geralt?" Solona asked, concerned. "Geralt!" she said more forcefully, hopping up from the table to stand in front of him. "Geralt, snap out of it!" she said and smacked him lightly on the face, then once more, hard enough to leave a reddening handprint behind. Finally he blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head.

"Shit," he said softly, turning away from her abruptly. "You need to learn to control that, and fast."

"Well, you're my teacher... what do you suggest? I don't even know quite what I did."

"What were you thinking about just before you looked at me?" he asked, his voice rough.

She grew thoughtful and said, "Um... the potion felt... nice, actually. It made me feel like..." she sighed and shook her head when it came to her. "It reminded me of how it feels when you… ah... used to give me those fantastic orgasms. Or just afterwards, anyway, like an afterglow. That's what I was thinking when I looked at you just then."

He cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his trousers, then took a deep breath before turning around to face her again. He looked her in the eyes hesitantly, but she only had a gentle look of concern on her face and he sighed in relief when he remained in control of his motor functions.

"I didn't do it on purpose, you know," she said to him, concerned.

He laughed softly and said, "I know. I had a mental barrier up just in case, but I admit my mind had wandered just briefly."

"So are you saying we can't even think about sex now?" she asked, skeptically.

"No, nothing like that. I just think we need to be mindful of what we're thinking when we're near each other. And I definitely need to work on my own mental defenses where you're concerned. See if you can do it again."

"Do what exactly?"

"Look me in the eyes again and try to... enthrall me like you did."

She shrugged at him and tried again, although she wasn't exactly sure what she had done. She sat back on the stone table and just held in her mind the memory of the sensation she had felt earlier, and then met his eyes. This time when she did, she felt a tiny surge of power erupt from her and he got the same semi-glazed look and his breathing quickened as it had a moment earlier. She could sense him struggling for a moment to regain control and waited to see what would happen. Finally he came back to his senses and shook his head. He let out another deep breath and said, "Whoa... you are... incredible."

"Can't you do the same thing?" she asked, recalling a night weeks past when she had been similarly enthralled by him in the inn in Ard Carraigh.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Maybe our defenses are just weaker against each other. With other people it only works with the sign and even then not to the same degree. Did it feel the same to you that time?"

"Mostly," she said, "But I think I know how to control it now."

"Okay, let's try again. Show me what you've got."

She grinned back at him and without delay shot him a powered glance, but deliberately held back half the power this time. She could see it affect him, but only for a split second before he shook his head and smiled at her.

"Better that time?" she asked.

He nodded at her and studied her intently for a moment. "There's just one more thing I need to try," he said, his voice growing deep with intent. He stalked towards her and stopped directly in front of her where she sat on the table, her slightly spread leather-clad thighs on either side of his legs. She felt her heart speed up at the sudden closeness of him when he placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent his head slowly, as though he were about to kiss her, and she closed her eyes in anticipation, uncertain but thinking to herself it was just a test... and she liked these kinds of tests. She felt one of his hands slide up to grip the back of her neck, placing his thumb along her jaw. He tilted her head up and his hot breath gusted against her mouth for a second.

And then abruptly he was gone.

She opened her eyes and blinked in confusion only to see him walking away from her and out of the lab. She groaned softly to herself thinking she should have known something like that was coming. Ever since she'd thrown him in the water that day after their fight with the kikimores he'd been evening the score with subtle little stunts. It had begun that same night with his icy cold hands on her bare skin just after she'd so graciously offered to share her own warmth with him. Then one day after they'd returned she'd fallen asleep in the bath after a long day of training, and he'd snuck in and stolen her dry clothes and all the towels so she was forced to run back up to her room stark naked and dripping wet, past a very surprised Bekim who was cleaning up in the kitchen, only to find Geralt reclining on her bed and grinning at her smugly. At least he'd been kind enough to start a fire in her room, but he still sat gloating and watching her while she dried off and dressed amidst a barrage of curses at him.

She projected a thought forcefully to him, I apologized for throwing you in the water last week, in case you've forgotten! … Ass. She heard low chuckling echo down the corridor and then in her head came the words, Proof that it doesn't always take a spell to enthrall someone. Anyway, I think we can call it even now.

She smiled to herself and followed in Geralt's echoing footsteps. They had a long day of training ahead of them. He had insisted that she take over Bekim's combat training, arguing that she knew the techniques and forms, and that the process of teaching someone else would improve her own skills. She had reluctantly agreed, more for the chance to get to work with the boy and hopefully encourage him to overcome his shyness towards her. Or his crush, if that's what it is, she thought as she headed up to her room to change into warmer clothes.

ooOoo

The drab light of the day was diminishing and the shadows growing longer as Geralt and Solona faced off in the training yard for their final match, each grasping tightly to a solid wooden staff. They circled each other slowly, Geralt watching Solona's stance and footing with a critical eye. He brought his eyes back up to her face and couldn't help but smile at her appearance. She had a wide black scarf swathed around her head to fend off the bitter cold in the air and only her slitted golden eyes were visible amidst the layers. She'd also dressed herself in several layers of clothing, the outermost garment a loose-fitting tunic woven from knobby light grey wool and gathered at the waist by her thick leather belt. Apparently winters in her world were much milder than the Northern Kingdoms.

Their staves met with a series of loud cracks as they began to spar in earnest, Geralt calling out critiques as they danced around each other, their weapons blurring through the air.

Bekim sat wearing his father's coat and scarf, observing from the stone steps nearby and nursing at the blisters on his palms, the rewards of his own training from earlier that day. Lusa lay beside him watching the fight intently. One day he'd be that good, too, Bekim thought. He wondered how many layers of skin he'd go through before that happened and winced as he plucked at his injuries.

"Don't worry at them, boy, you'll only make it worse," Vesemir reprimanded as he approached from the stable yard. Both Lusa and Bekim turned their heads in unison towards the old man's voice. Vesemir and two other men were strolling towards the fortress steps where Bekim sat. Lusa hopped up with an excited "woof!" and ambled over to inspect the new arrivals, sniffing at them inquisitively. Bekim stared at the two men, his teeth idly chewing on the small piece of skin he'd just bitten off his thumb before spitting it out. They were Witchers, he could see from their eyes, and he watched curiously as they strolled towards where he sat.

"I thought we were finished recruiting, Vesemir," the shorter of the two men commented in a smooth voice. The man was young and fair-skinned with dark brown hair pulled back in a half pony-tail. He had a series of faint pink scars down the right side of his forehead and spilling onto his cheek. "I figured Witchers were a dying breed... what made you change your mind?"

The old man snorted, "It wasn't my doing. Wolf seems to like bringing home strays for some reason." He glanced at Bekim and said, "No offense, boy." Bekim shook his head and his eyes flicked to the larger of the two men, his gaze lingering on the long, ragged scar that marred the entire right side of his face from forehead to chin. The man hadn't spoken yet, but now let out a low, deep rumble of laughter.

When the larger man spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly, "You wouldn't think he had such a soft heart to look at him, but that's Wolf for you." He stepped towards Bekim and extended a large gloved hand amiably in greeting, "I'm Eskel, and who might you be?"

"B-bekim," Bekim said and stuck his hand out to be grasped in the bone-cracking grip of the other man. He winced and then flexed his fingers gingerly when Eskel finally released his hand. The smaller man stepped forward with an extended hand and introduced himself as Lambert. Bekim gave his hand a wary glance and finally shook it, relieved when the man's grip was only firm and not crushing. The five of them turned back to observe the pair of fighters.

"He's talented, this new initiate, although maybe a little weak in the upper body. He's quick and has excellent balance, though." Eskel said appraisingly after watching the fight for several moments, then he asked, "Where did Wolf find him?"

Vesemir looked sidelong at Eskel and said, "It's a long story. You'll have to let Wolf tell it."

Bekim gave Vesemir a sharp glance and saw a look of mild amusement on the old man's face. Clearly these two men had no knowledge of Solona yet. He thought it would be pretty funny when they realized "he" was really a "she" and he smiled to himself, pleased to be in on the joke.

"And what about you, kid?" the large man asked Bekim. With a rueful tinge to his voice he added, "Not another child surprise, I hope."

Bekim hesitated and said, "Geralt and... ah... um, he took me as payment for a contract. B-but I volunteered, anyway. What's a 'child surprise'?"

Eskel waved his hand dismissively and glanced at Bekim's hands with a wry smile, "I see he's already begun the torture."

Bekim ducked his head shyly and shrugged, "I don't mind it much. It's fun mostly." Except for today, because Solona had taken over teaching him and so he'd been nervous the entire time and had made an utter fool of himself. But at least she'd been patient and nice to him the whole time.

There was a loud grunt and a thud from the training ring and Bekim noticed Lambert wince slightly in sympathy. He turned to look and saw Geralt flat on his back with Solona straddling him, her staff held solidly across his throat. She leaned down and seemed to whisper something in his ear. Geralt laughed wickedly and a second later had her disarmed and flat on her back with her hands pinned above her head.

Solona had no idea what he'd just done to turn the tables so quickly. She was sure she had him beaten, but here she was underneath him again. "You agreed to the stakes," he said in a gruff voice as she struggled ineffectually beneath him. He just ground his hips into hers making her flush hotter and wish she hadn't put on so many layers before fighting. She sighed in mock dismay and smiled up at him. "Fine, you win." He grinned triumphantly and tilted his head over hers, kissing her deeply.

By the steps Lambert and Eskel's jaws dropped. "Huh..." Lambert said bemusedly, "I admit that's a technique I'm not familiar with."

Vesemir cleared his throat loudly and called out, "Wolf!"

Geralt ignored the old man, preferring to linger over the kiss a bit longer until he heard Solona's voice clearly in his mind, I think we have company. He pulled back from the kiss and looked into her eyes. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Seeing that they did indeed have an audience he smiled back down at her excitedly and stood up. He reached out a hand to help her stand and strode over to greet the other Witchers who had arrived.

"Eskel! Lambert! I was beginning to worry the two of you had fallen victim to Bruxas. Welcome back!" He grasped them each by the arm in greeting, followed up by hearty hugs.

"Wolf," Eskel said in greeting. "Are you going to introduce us to your new recruit?" He nodded slightly at the figure following behind Geralt.

Solona had brushed the dust off her backside and was striding slowly over to them. She unravelled the scarf from her head to reveal her prettily flushed face fringed by white curls that fluttered in the chill winter breeze. There were mild sounds of surprise from the new arrivals when she did so. She unfastened her belt and clutched the hem of her outer tunic, pulling it off over her head and giving everyone a flash of the smooth, white skin of her stomach where her lower layers were hiked up in the process. The remaining layers included her form-fitting soft leather armor that was laced snugly over a lighter silk tunic and revealed her unmistakeably feminine figure. She adjusted her clothing and refastened her belt, tying the heavy wool tunic by the arms around her waist, then draped her scarf over her neck just as she stopped before them and gave the new arrivals a bright, friendly smile.

Geralt turned to look at her with a smile, "Solona, I'd like you to meet my brother Witchers, Eskel and Lambert." He gestured at each man respectively.

The two men were struck speechless for a second as she stood there smiling at them. Finally Lambert burst out into laughter and said, "This is quite a surprise... a woman Witcher. Vesemir, you've been holding out on us!" The old man merely shrugged in response.

Eskel gave the younger man a backhanded smack on the arm and turned to Solona to say, "What Lambert means to say is 'hello, it's nice to meet you.' He sometimes forgets he wasn't raised by wolves. He may have turned out better if he had been." Changing the subject, he turned to Geralt and said, "Speaking of being raised by wolves, how's your memory lately? Had any more pieces come back to you since we last saw each other?"

Geralt nodded and replied, "As a matter of fact yes. There is quite a bit I need to tell the both of you, but you should get settled first. We'll talk over drinks later."

Vesemir gestured to Bekim. "Boy, go help them with their gear and get their horses stabled, then come in and help me with supper." Bekim nodded obediently and hopped up to follow the two men to their horses.

Solona gave Geralt an inquiring look as they walked back into the fortress, "Raised by wolves, huh? This sounds like a story I'd like to hear. Is that where you got your nickname?"

Geralt laughed softly, "Nobody was raised by wolves. I just had a bit of an encounter with a mother wolf and her pups when I was an initiate."

"Do tell." Solona looked at him with eyebrows raised, and sat patiently at the table in the main hall waiting for him to continue the story. He grabbed the bottle of White Gull and joined her with a pair of pewter mugs. He sat down with a sigh and poured them each a drink. He took a deep swallow before continuing.

"When I was an initiate, one of the first tests we had to undergo was a test of survival. Vesemir took me out into the wilderness several leagues from the fortress and left me with only a dagger and the clothes on my back. He said he'd return for me in thirty days."

Solona looked slightly shocked, "Thirty days? How old were you?"

Geralt sat quietly thinking, "Twelve years old, I think. Eskel was put through the test at the same time, but they'd taken him to a different place. Every test they put us through we went through together, save for this one."

"Well, clearly you both passed the test. What was it like being left in the wilderness for a month with only your wits and a sharp knife?"

Geralt laughed, "I was terrified at first. Vesemir had started a fire for me before he left, with the admonishment to keep it burning, but the next morning I woke up covered in snow and freezing to death and the fire was cold and dead. I just knew I had to restart it, and so I did. I knew I had to find food, too, so I ate what I could find. On about the third or fourth day I was out hunting for... pretty much anything I could catch... and came across a she-wolf caught in a trap. She nearly tore my head off at first, but I was able to calm her enough to help her, and she led me back to her den where she had a whole litter of pups crying to be fed. After that I would hunt with her at night and we would share our kills, and I would sleep in the den with the pups during the day. I must have appeared as a wildling when Vesemir returned at the end of the month to find me, wrapped in skins and sleeping with wolves."

Solona shook her head in amazement. "Did you keep one of the pups as a pet?" she asked.

He replied, "No... I wanted to, but I realized that they didn't belong inside the walls of a fortress any more than I did after going through that experience. Even now I find it confining whenever I have to stay indoors for extended periods. I'm most at home out there." He waved an arm expansively before him, his eyes focusing on a window across the room. Solona thought she understood him all too well.

She took a sip of the sweet, spicy liquor and savored the changing flavors that washed over her tongue and tingled as it flowed down her throat. She was beginning to feel the pleasant burn in her center that the drink gave her and she sighed contentedly. It was the perfect drink for a cold night.

There was a ruckus as the door opened and three figures loaded down with gear came through followed by the big dog who also appeared to be helping by carrying a large bag by its leather strap. Bekim carried his burden into the kitchen while the other two men carried theirs up to the second floor before returning several moments later to join them at the table. Geralt poured them each a drink and they toasted to old friends and new ones.

Eskel gave Geralt a serious look and asked, "Wolf, I have to ask, was Triss here recently?"

Geralt nodded, "She agreed to help with Solona's trials. I'm sorry to make her keep it from you, Eskel. I wanted to wait until you both were here before you found out about Solona."

Eskel hesitated and said, "So she wasn't here to see you..."

Geralt laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder, "Far from it, brother. She was just doing me a favor. Her heart clearly belongs to you, trust me."

Eskel appeared visibly relieved and said, "That does explain the state of my room now. I take it that's where she was staying?"

Solona said apologetically, "I suppose that's my fault. I sort of took over the tower before she arrived so she was forced to find alternate accommodations. Hopefully the changes she made weren't too drastic?"

The big man laughed a deep, rumbling laugh, "No, it's nice really, although a little more flowery than I'm used to. I'll take it up with her when she comes to visit at Midwinter."

Solona brightened up at that. "She's coming back to visit? Wonderful!"

Eskel laughed at her response and said, "She did promise me she would come if her duties allowed. She's a busy woman lately."

Lambert abruptly interrupted them with the burning question, "Wolf, are you going to tell us the story or do we have to beat it out of you? No offense, Solona, but who the hell are you and what have you done to our brother?"

Geralt gave the man a fierce glare and Solona thought he was about to punch the younger man for a moment, but his deep scowl faded after a moment and he sighed and topped off everyone's mugs. "Drink up. You'll need it to absorb all this," he said and then began the tale.

He started the story where his own acquaintance with her had begun, stating without preamble, "So I woke up in a bathtub with this beautiful sorceress who had just saved my life from a horde of poisonous spiny hystrixes." He was deliberately vague about the specifics of their time together but she noticed Eskel and Lambert exchange a knowing glance after studying her with interest.

After a few moments Solona noticed Bekim lurking in the doorway to the kitchen trying to hear the story and Vesemir repeatedly scolding him to return to his duties. Finally she beckoned to him and told him to sit while she went into the kitchen, whispering to Vesemir, "I've heard it all already, let him stay. I'll help with dinner."

She could still easily hear the retelling through the immense, open fireplace that separated the dining area of the main hall from the kitchen, and she smiled in amusement several times at Geralt's interpretation of their experiences together so far, and the events and circumstances that had led to her presence here. The other men were audibly shocked at the revelations concerning Witcher fertility and there was a brief interruption in the story until Vesemir settled the matter by explaining, "It wasn't for me to share until it became necessary."

"But Vesemir," Lambert argued, "Surely there are ways around the obvious drawbacks. We could have easily doubled our numbers by adding women to our ranks, even if it weren't possible to… procreate with with them."

Vesemir snorted at him and replied, "And be all the more hated for stealing young girls away from their families as well as boys? No, our traditions were best left as they were. Besides, you two both know what it's like trying to train young girls - not to mention living with them. Can you imagine having half our ranks filled with more Ciris?" That gave them pause and they reluctantly agreed with the old man, who nodded his head sagely and went back to cooking with a sympathetic glance at Geralt.

Once Geralt had completed his telling, Eskel said in a thoughtful tone, "That would explain all the talk of the White Queen coming that we heard in the villages on the way north."

Lambert laughed scornfully, "Prophecies are just more political rubbish spouted by the ruling classes to try to keep the people in line. I don't buy it, Wolf, and you're a fool if you do. Why else would Henselt try to kidnap her so he could marry her?"

Geralt shook his head and replied in a tightly controlled voice, "I have no doubt that the true meaning of the prophecy may have been distorted to serve the purposes of the monarchs, but her story is true, as Vesemir will testify. Anyway, she has nothing to prove to you, Lambert. I only tell you this as a courtesy and ask for your support - as a brother."

"Well let me ask you this, brother," Lambert retorted, "What exactly is she queen of? Delusional sorceresses? Is she the queen of your cock? She certainly seems to have you wrapped around her little finger from the sound of things. And here you've turned her into a Witcher no less, spilling our secrets to a perfect stranger!"

"Lambert," Eskel interjected, "Don't be an ass. Not ten minutes ago you were arguing for recruitment of female Witchers. And now you're against it?"

"Well the fertility issue at least was a plausible story. But this prophecy? Get your head out of your ass, brother. It's bullshit. Who knows what her agenda really is."

Geralt's vision suddenly tunneled in on the other man and he leaped to his feet with his fists clenched and fire in his eyes, knocking the bench Bekim still sat on backwards and nearly upending the boy who was watching the situation escalate with fascination. But just as he began to reach out to grab Lambert by the collar a slighter figure appeared in his field of vision and yanked the man up viciously by the upper arm.

Solona's eyes bored into the young Witcher. Through clenched teeth she spat, "My only agenda is to see that my own world and yours aren't sucked into oblivion within the next century. If you'd seen the Archdemon, or even half of the other monstrosities I have within the last year alone you would understand. Don't. Fuck. With. Me. Brother." She shook him bodily in emphasis.

Lambert sneered at her. "Oh, I heard that ridiculous ballad Dandelion wrote about some poncey king and a dragon. Is that what you're talking about? How much did you pay him to write that, or are you the queen of his cock, too?"

Solona's fist abruptly connected with his nose with an audible crunch and her golden eyes flashed visibly with a subtle light. "You would do well not to cross me, Lambert. I can forgive you once because we only just met, but trust me, you won't get another chance."

She threw him back onto the bench and he tumbled backwards into Eskel with a grunt. The larger man caught him and righted him, then handed him a rag to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. Solona shot him a final glare and stalked back to the kitchen, clenching and unclenching her hand.

Geralt stood glowering at the younger man for a moment where he sat with a bowed head holding the bloody cloth to his face. Lambert was quiet for a moment and then his shoulders began to shake softly. Geralt's brow creased and he blinked in confusion when he heard what was unmistakably laughter erupting from the other Witcher, growing louder and more unrestrained by the second.

Lambert finally tilted his head up and met Geralt's stare, "Oh, I do like her. She is exactly what you need, Wolf. And you should see your face right now. Hah!" He winced at a sharp pain that shot through his nose when he laughed.

Geralt scowled at him. "Don't tell me you were bullshitting about all that, Lambert, just trying to goad me into reacting."

The other man shook his head, "Not completely. Don't get me wrong, I am skeptical about the whole prophecy thing, but it clearly has some significance to her... did you see her eyes flash just now? It was the oddest thing, but in that second I caught a glimpse of her story and knew it for truth. I'm willing to give you two the benefit of the doubt after that, at least."

The bleeding seemed to have subsided and he tenderly tested his swollen proboscis. He winced. "But did she really have to break my nose to prove her point? Ow!"

Geralt had cooled off and sat down again, pouring them all refills of White Gull. He laughed softly and shook his head, saying, "Don't worry, I'm sure once she's cooled off she'll come fix it for you. You did deserve it - if she hadn't done it, I would have, so feel fortunate that she got to you first."

Lambert smiled faintly, "Well it's clear who her teacher was. I wouldn't hesitate to put money on her in a fight. And after watching how she dealt with you earlier today, she'll be putting us all to shame before long. How far into the changes is she?"

"Only three so far since she began them three weeks ago," Geralt replied. "And we're on an accelerated schedule. She needs to be done by Belleteyn if we're going to make it south in time for Midsummer."

Eskel stared at him in surprise and glanced towards the kitchen, then back to Geralt, "Three mutagens in as many weeks? And she's handled them well so far?"

"Better than that," Geralt said, clearly impressed, himself. "It's amazing how quickly she adapts to them. There was some kind of ritual she went through in her own world that apparently made her a perfect candidate for the mutations. It's almost like she was meant for it." He shot a pointed look at Lambert who merely shrugged at him in response.

Solona and Vesemir came in just then carrying platters of meat and vegetables and baskets of bread and set them upon the table. Bekim hopped up and gathered plates and cutlery from a cabinet and passed them out to everyone. Before she sat, Solona stood giving Lambert a stern glare for a moment. Finally he seemed to wither before her and shrugged at her sheepishly.

"If you apologize for being an ass, I'll fix that so you can actually taste your food," she waved a finger at his face.

He bowed his head and spoke in almost mock formality, "My Lady Solona, I sincerely apologize for being an ass to you earlier. Please, please repair my broken nose so I may humbly partake of the delicious meal you have so graciously prepared for us."

She snorted and sauntered over to him, her leather-clad hips swaying. She leaned down and grabbed him by the chin, her touch gentler than her expression let on as she inspected his nose, testing the break softly with her fingers. She caught his eyes drifting down her neckline and smirked, saying, "This might sting a bit," then she yanked his nose sharply until there was a soft crack and he cried out and blinked, tears coming to his eyes.

"That doesn't feel like healing magic to me," he grumbled. She shushed him and brushed her fingertips lightly over his now straightened nose, soft green light glowing beneath them as her magic fused the broken bones back together. When she stepped back he blinked up at her with raised eyebrows and wriggled his nose a bit, then gingerly squeezed it with his fingertips. He nodded at her in thanks and she nodded back, then went around the table to her place between Geralt and Bekim, squeezing Geralt's shoulder gently as she took her seat.

The meal passed with animated conversation that grew more boisterous as the evening went on and more drinks were poured. Geralt shared the recovery of his lost memories with the other Witchers and Geralt and Eskel spent a good deal of time happily reminiscing on their time as initiates.

Later, Geralt and Solona also learned from the new arrivals that King Henselt had taken a bride, the daughter of a minor noble, who was purportedly already with child. "So it looks like he'll get his heir after all," Geralt said smiling at Solona.

Sometime after the meal ended and the last drop of liquor had been drunk they found themselves alone at the table, Eskel and Lambert bidding goodnight and Vesemir insisting that Bekim do the cleaning up since he had gotten out of helping prepare the meal. Vesemir had also long since retired for the evening.

Geralt whispered softly to Solona as they sat nursing the last of the liquor in their mugs, "You never did show me what it was you did to fix Henselt's... problem."

She gave him a sideways smile and said, "Maybe all he needed was an expert's touch," and tickled him lightly on the inner thigh.

"Mmm, yes," Geralt murmured in her ear. "That would certainly cure all my ills."

She laughed softly at him and stood up unsteadily. "It's time for bed I think. Oh, I'm going to hate life in the morning, though." She massaged her temple gently and began walking towards the staircase to the upper floors.

Geralt stood and followed closely behind. When they reached the door to his room, he opened it and waited for her to enter before following, closing the door softly behind them.

"Before you go up, let me give you something," he said, striding to the wardrobe in the corner and pulling out one of the lower drawers. He selected two small bottles from his box of potions and handed her one.

"Wives' Tears," he explained. "To sober us up. You should still drink plenty of water, of course - it won't alleviate the effects of dehydration, unfortunately."

She nodded gratefully and drank the potion, then handed the small empty bottle back to him, her hand lingering over his for a second, her gaze holding his steadily. She sighed quietly and turned, taking a few steps towards the archway that led to the staircase up to her room.

She stopped just inside the archway and placed a hand on the rough stone wall, growing pensive for a moment, then hesitantly she said, "Geralt..." She turned to looked at him where he still stood near his wardrobe with an attentive expression.

"I wanted to say this before, but we seemed to keep getting sidetracked this week... This is the first chance we've had to really just talk." She paused before continuing. "It was nice being out there with you again last week. Out under the stars, I mean. That night... I don't know if you feel it, but something's been different between us since that night. Different in a good way, I think."

He met her gaze steadily and a soft smile spread across his face. He just nodded at her and put his potion to his lips, taking it down in a single swallow.

Almost plaintively she said, "But I have to know why I keep waking up with you in my bed every morning... don't get me wrong, I like it... but you never stay."

He studied her for a moment and an air of worry began to shadow his expression. He strode over to her and rubbed her arm gently with one large hand.

"Solona," he began looking her in the eyes steadily, "Do you remember your dreams at all?"

She shook her head and met his gaze. "Not lately, no. You said we shared dreams sometimes but I haven't remembered my dreams since we were in Ard Carraigh... well, except for that one." She smiled faintly at him.

"Doesn't that worry you?" he asked, his brows drawing together. "When we first met you told me you dreamed of the Old Gods pretty frequently, yet you don't remember the dreams now."

Her expression grew somber as she absorbed his comment. It had concerned her, but she had brushed it off as inconsequential since the visions she'd had during the trials, and after drinking the first mutagen. She thought it was just a side effect of the changes.

"I don't know... it is odd, but I wasn't particularly worried about it. But it sounds like you are." She gave him a questioning look.

"Solona, you have the same dream almost every night. I know because I have the very same dream, and you always wake crying from it. It's been happening on a regular basis ever since that night in Ard Carraigh. Do you remember the dream you had that night?"

She thought back and could vaguely recall a dream of standing on a mountaintop next to the dragon. Geralt was in the dream, too, but the rest was fuzzy.

"Are you saying you only sleep with me because of this dream?" she asked testily.

He shook his head, growing frustrated. He gazed off into the darkness of the tower behind her for a moment then met her eyes again, raising his hand up to lightly brush at the loose curls that cascaded down one side of her face.

"No. I come to you when you cry out, and I hold you until you're sleeping peacefully again. I stay because it feels so good to hold you, if only for a little while. Sometimes I fall asleep like that. I don't stay longer because I still fear my own impulses around you. But I find lately that it's the only time I can actually sleep."

She reached out and placed a hand gently on the soft fabric that covered his muscular chest, enjoying the heat of his body that radiated through it. Her eyes studied his intently for a second and quietly she said, "Stay with me tonight, Geralt. All night. Just one morning I'd like to wake up next to you for a change. I miss you."

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded, drawing her into a close embrace. He whispered in her ear, "Just for tonight." He held her for several moments before releasing her and letting her lead him by the hand up to her room.

Next Chapter: In which it snows.