Conjunction
Chapter 26 - Old Scars
One month later. Four months until Midsummer. Outskirts of Ard Carraigh.
Geralt was dreaming of summer again.
He could feel the sweltering heat around him. The steady buzz of summer insects assaulted his sensitive ears. The hot sun beat down on him relentlessly.
It took a moment to dawn on him that he was lucid. This wasn't his usual summertime dream of Solona that ended with her mounting him in the middle of a thunderstorm. He realized he was the wolf again and that this was one of her dreams, but not a dream he had seen before. This dream felt pleasant, aside from the intense heat; not foreboding like the winter dreams.
He was standing in a field across from a rustic farmhouse built in a style that wasn't familiar to him. He could hear lightly accented voices speaking from the other side of the farmhouse, one stern and deep, two others lighter and more inquisitive.
From the back of the farmhouse he heard a delighted whoop and a pair of lithe young figures went tearing across the field past him. As they flew by he saw that one was a pretty red-haired young woman, the other a well-built, dark-haired young man. He started to follow, but before he turned away from the farmhouse he saw the figure of a tall, solidly built man step around the corner and watch the two race each other across the field. The man shook his head and smiled, raking his fingers through thinning salt-and-pepper hair. His smile grew sorrowful as he turned to walk into the house, his figure disappearing into the shadows.
The wolf turned and loped through the field, his nose searching out the scents of the young man and woman. He tracked them to a small, hidden cove by the shore of a nearby lake. They left their clothing in a pile on the sandy beach and charged into the water, both diving beneath the surface when they were in deep enough. Their horseplay was delightfully innocent as they splashed each other and dove and swam beneath the water, but they would cast curious, surreptitious glances at the other from time to time.
After some time, they tired of their play and drifted aimlessly around in the water on their backs, moving with slow, languid strokes. The young man turned his head to face the girl. His voice cracked slightly when he spoke.
"Sol..." the young man began hesitantly. "Do you ever... do you ever think about, um, sex?" He cast another curious, lingering look at the girl where she floated on her back in the water. The sunlight glistened on the water that still coated her naked, tanned skin.
"What?" she replied, trailing her arms through the water and swimming in a slow side stroke towards him where he floated nearby. She set her feet down on the sandy bottom beneath the clear, shoulder-deep water and faced him. He was several inches taller than her when he stood up before her. His broad shoulders and chest were fully out of the water and his dark, wet hair stood up on end when he scrubbed his head distractedly with one hand.
He looked at her for a second, his clear blue eyes meeting her golden-hued ones, then he looked away, a bright flush creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks.
He trailed his fingers through the water distractedly, then cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes again with determination.
"Will you do it. With me?" he asked boldly.
She looked shocked. "Garrett... we... I don't know..." Her voice trailed off and she tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Don't you have a thing for what's-her-face? What about her? And we're cousins."
He pursed his lips. "She won't even give me the time of day, Sol, you know that. I know you're my cousin... second cousin if you want to get technical. But you're also my best friend. I just thought we could... try it together. If you want."
Her eyes narrowed and she regarded him quietly for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
He looked surprised by her response and stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds. She laughed at him and grabbed his hand.
"Come on, dummy. Maker help us, do I have to do everything?" She smirked over her shoulder at him as she pulled him out of the water.
She led him to a large overhang of rock under which they'd built a little mini-fortress out of deadwood and odds and ends brought from home over the years. The area was well used and clearly familiar to them both. She pulled a couple ragged wool blankets out of a crate and shook them out. He helped her spread them on the bare dirt in the center of their shady sanctuary.
He hesitantly spoke, "Are you sure about this Sol? I heard it's supposed to hurt for a girl's first time."
She looked at him quizzically, "You're the one who asked, Garrett. Don't tell me you're backing out after only five minutes. I'm not afraid. Are you?"
He looked at her appraisingly where she stood before him, naked and challenging with one hand on her slender hip, her elbow cocked out to the side. Her red hair had already started to dry and curl slightly in the sweltering afternoon heat.
He shook his head and smiled. "No, I'm not afraid. I just wanted to be sure. I had a feeling you'd say yes."
"You know me. I love a challenge." She looked at him with a glint in her eyes as she knelt down on the blankets.
He knelt facing her and sat looking into her eyes for a moment, uncertain where to begin.
She laughed nervously. "You're the boy, I think you're supposed to start," she said. "If you want me to, I will. But this was your idea," she reminded him.
He looked at her with an exasperated expression, then scooted closer to her until their knees touched. He rested one hand on her bare shoulder and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers tentatively. She kissed him back, then pulled away.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" she asked.
"No clue at all," he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Well, I have a vague idea of how it works... I mean, we're not all that different from... other... beasts, where parts are concerned. But... I could use some help?" His final phrase almost sounded like a plea.
She gazed into his eyes, a small smile tugging at one side of her mouth.
"Touch me," she said softly.
She gripped his hand and pulled it up to her small, pink-tipped breast. He held his hand where she placed it, squeezing gently. He seemed mesmerized and stared down at her soft flesh as his fingertips began exploring. He brought his other hand up and gripped her other breast. When his thumbs drifted over their tips he was surprised by the soft gasp that erupted from her and looked up to meet her eyes. He repeated the small caress while he looked at her.
"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky. She nodded, holding his gaze.
He looked back down at the pliant flesh he held in his hands and impulsively dipped his head and wrapped his lips around one dusky pink peak.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, snaking her fingers through his damp hair.
He pulled back and looked at her with a small, surprised smile.
"Did you like that?" he asked.
"Yes," she said breathlessly.
"I like how hard they get when I touch them," he said.
She snickered softly. "You know what else is hard right now?"
She reached out a hand and grabbed hold of him between the thighs. He grunted and his hips twitched at the contact. He began to pant softly when she slid her palm up his length and touched his tip gently with her fingertips. She gave him a sly smile and then bent her head down to his hips, grasping his tip between her lips.
"Oh, uh... huh," he grunted incoherently and his hips jerked involuntarily towards her, pushing further into her mouth. His flesh quivered and spasmed. Her face grew surprised and confused at the same time, but she didn't release him. Instead she swallowed the thick, salty fluids and then licked his tip clean before sitting back again.
He sat staring at her with a shocked expression and she just grinned at him.
"Did you like that?" she asked, echoing his earlier question.
He just nodded with wide eyes and then shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He took a deep breath. Then another. "Wow," he said and stared at her with a look of amazement.
"Wow," he said again after a moment.
She giggled at him. "I'll have to remember that," she said.
He grinned back at her. "Can I try it on you?"
Her brows drew together in confusion. "But I don't have a... you know."
"No, but you've got to have something down there. I want to know what it tastes like. And if it makes you feel the way that felt to me."
She looked at him skeptically, but lay back on the blankets and spread her thighs eagerly.
He positioned between her legs and bent over her, spreading her open with a gentle touch and just looking for a moment, uncertain where to begin. He bent and gave her a tentative lick, then another. On the third, she twitched and let out a soft gasp. He repeated the motion with deliberate attention and got a similar, but more intense response. He bent his head over her, concentrating on the sensitive spot he'd discovered.
Within moments she cried out and her hips bucked against his mouth. He laughed against her parted flesh.
"Be still, Sol! I'm not done yet."
She let out a soft moan and gripped his head, holding him against her. He flicked his tongue out once more, teasing her and causing her to whimper slightly.
"Does that mean I'm done?" he asked, his voice muffled by her flesh.
"Uh huh," she murmured. Her skin glistened with sweat from the heat and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath. She finally released her grip on his head and he pulled back.
"Can I be inside you now?" he asked softly. He moved up between her thighs and gazed down at her.
She smiled up at him and nodded, pulling his sweaty body down atop her own. She urged him inside her with a sharp gasp and a grimace of pain. Within a moment, quick breaths interspersed by moans of pleasure began to rise up from them both.
When the two young lovers merged, the wolf turned away. He became acutely aware of the stifling heat of the afternoon. It was furnace-hot and there was no respite of a summer rainstorm to quench this heat.
His ears twitched at the sounds still drifting towards him. He knew she'd had other lovers. Even his own best friend was counted among their numbers, which he still found amusing rather than troubling, but witnessing this interlude that he knew must have been from her past had triggered an irrational possessiveness in him. Seeing another man take her for the first time, no matter how young and innocent they had been, was torture. And he seemed to be trapped in this furnace of a locale while he listened to them together, discovering each other for the first time.
Unable to do anything else, he let out a fierce howl into the growing sunset and repeated it until the heat of the dream released him.
ooOoo
When the dream finally faded Geralt was gripped by the icy chill of a draft seeping into their tent and the sound of the tent flap whipping in the wind. The stark contrast to the heat of the dream left him shivering and he reached for Solona's warm body, only to find her bed roll empty and cold.
He sat up and looked around the still dark interior of the tent. She wasn't there.
He cursed under his breath and quickly threw on his warmer clothes and boots before scrambling out of the tent. He cursed out loud when he found her kneeling naked before the dead campfire, shivering and nearly blue from the cold. Her eyes were half-lidded and glazed, and her hands were clutching her upper arms tightly. Her white curls trailed across her face in the chill, snowy wind blowing around her.
"Dammit, Solona. What were you thinking?"
Of course he knew she hadn't been thinking. She'd gone to sleep exhausted from the effort of maintaining control of her own sanity. She must have lost touch sometime during the night.
It probably started with that dream, he thought.
"Garrett..." he heard her mumble through numb lips.
"I'm here," Geralt said, stooping down to lift her into his arms and carry her back into the tent. He swiftly wrapped a blanket around her and sat with her on his lap, rubbing her briskly with his hands through the blanket.
"Garrett, keep them safe," he heard her murmur and realized it hadn't been his own name she'd spoken through numbed lips. He winced as he remembered the dream in all its brutal detail. She was clearly lost in some other dream or vision with this Garrett. Her eyes were half open and staring into space.
He finally remembered where he'd heard the name before. He recalled her speaking with some affection once or twice of the cousin she'd been raised with, but she'd rarely shared details. She had never shared details as intimate as what he had witnessed.
She had been so beautiful in the vision. Radiant in the bright sunlight; bold and fearless and completely shameless even then. He guessed she must have been around sixteen. Barely a woman, but mature enough to know what she wanted. And strong-willed enough to intimidate most boys her own age, but this particular boy had seemed unfazed by her direct attitude.
Garrett Hawke, he remembered the name now. He had looked like he possessed a will as strong as Solona's. Geralt was somehow certain their wills had clashed frequently. But Garrett Hawke had known her in her innocence, and had shared in her discovery.
Geralt felt a surge of jealous regret and cursed himself for his reaction. How could he be feeling regret over missing a part of her life he could never have known anyway?
She was still murmuring her cousin's name every few minutes, her voice pleading. Whatever vision she was having now was clearly distressing to her, but Geralt didn't dare try to interfere. He'd attempted to enter her mind once during an episode and had just found himself sucked in, powerless to affect her. He knew if he tried now he could only be an observer and didn't think he wanted another reminder so soon of how much of her past he wasn't aware of.
Her mental defenses were much stronger than his, which made these lapses in her control all the more distressing to him. The spirits that called to her had to be immensely powerful beings to be able to affect her so profoundly. She did refer to them as gods, which he didn't believe was true, but that didn't mean they weren't as powerful as a god might be, if there was such a thing as a god.
Geralt continued his attempts to warm her, rocking her gently against him. After some time he realized she was still shivering violently. He laid her down on his bedroll and covered her as snugly as he could, then stripped to his breeches and wrapped himself around her beneath their blankets. She was so cold, but her shivering began to ease almost instantly when his body heat began seeping into her.
She spoke the boy's name again. He clenched his eyelids shut in frustration. He had an irrational need to make her remember him. He began speaking to her as he rubbed his hands down over her bare arms and back trying to warm her.
"Solona, remember when you saved my life, and we made love in the bath afterwards? You told me that you were my destiny. I thought it was a joke. I didn't believe you then, but I know now that you spoke the truth."
Her shivering had finally ceased. He heard her laugh weakly and smiled with relief when he realized he was reaching her.
"You knew deep down that I was right, didn't you?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred from the cold still gripping her tongue.
"I just knew I had a beautiful woman in bed with me who thought she was my destiny. I was milking it for all it was worth."
She laughed again, sounding a bit stronger.
"I think you just like a challenge," she said. "Saving the world is right up your alley."
His first impulse was to object but he stopped himself, realizing that she was right. He'd been conflicted for most of his life about the witchers' mandate. For the first time he knew he was beyond it and the feeling was liberating. He could do more by her side. He was meant to do more by her side than just be the killer he'd been since he'd completed his own changes.
"I think you're right," he said, not even trying to hide the note of amazement in his voice.
"I know I'm right," she said, and turned over in his arms. Her eyes met his and he gazed back into their golden depths. She smirked at his astonished expression.
"You're only just figuring this out now, aren't you?" she said. "Geralt, if my visions have shown me anything it's that we're bound together. You're with me in all of the visions, in some form or another. Every single one. I have a feeling you'll be with me until the end – whenever that is."
His brow creased. "Did you see me in the one you just had – the swimming one?"
"No," she said. "But I knew you were there. And I heard you near the end."
Her eyes told him that she'd heard his torment, too. He cut his gaze away from hers, trying to avoid her steady, searching look.
"Was it the heat of the dream that drew you out of bed to sit out in the snow like a madwoman?"
She let out a little laugh at his question. "I don't know. I wasn't entirely in control, but it felt like swimming in cool water to me when the chill air hit. It was refreshing after the heat of the dream. I don't remember Ferelden summers being that hot before. Not even that particular summer."
"So, it was a memory?" he asked cautiously. He began gently rubbing her bare back beneath the blanket. She was still very cold to the touch, but her skin felt nice against his hand. Too nice, but not nearly as distracting as the memory of the dream he'd just shared with her.
She nodded and studied his face for a moment, her expression concerned. He wondered if she could read his mood even though he was trying not to let it show on his face. She could have easily reached into his mind to know what he was thinking but was grateful that she didn't.
She reached up a hand from beneath the blankets and lightly traced the scar that extended from his brow down his cheek. The sensation of her fingertips on his skin caused gooseflesh to spring up over his entire body. He closed his eyes when he felt his groin tightening in response to her touch.
Quietly she said, "You still feel the wounds sometimes, don't you? The pain never fully fades, no matter how much time passes."
He nodded and turned his head to kiss her palm when she paused to rest her hand against his stubbled cheek.
She took a deep breath and continued speaking while idly tracing the scars that covered his skin. He didn't think she realized what sweet torture it was to have her touching him like that, but he wasn't about to make her stop.
She said, "I think dreams can be like that sometimes. Memories, even pleasant ones, are the marks left behind from our experiences. Dreams of them are the subtle twinge when something happens to remind us of the past. The visions I've been having of my home have brought them back for me. I haven't thought about that day for years, to be honest."
He studied her intently while she spoke. When she was finished, he gripped her hand in his own to still the tormenting caresses on his skin.
He said, "You cared deeply for each other."
She nodded and smiled a wistful smile. "Garrett and I were a lot of things to each other. Best friends, confidants, sparring partners. Rivals in a lot of ways. Lovers, eventually. The time we spent together will always be a pleasant memory. But it's the past. I wouldn't trade any of my moments with you to bring back the past, no matter how much I might miss him. Just knowing he's in the world somewhere – likely being heroic, which was always his nature – is enough for me."
She snuggled closer to him, twining one leg around his and pressing her cheek to his bare chest. His arms tightened around her, enjoying the closeness while it lasted, but acutely aware that she was completely naked as she pressed herself against him. The pressure of her bare breasts against his chest incited all manner of ideas in his mind.
He tried to distract himself with planning. They had supplies to last them another couple weeks. If she was lucid they would need to be on the road again soon. At least it was some consolation that her episodes seemed to be decreasing in duration.
He lowered his lips to the top of her head and kissed her, then murmured into her hair, "As good as it feels to hold you like this, I fear we're tempting fate by lingering in bed half-naked." One of his large hands slid down her back and gave her bare behind a soft pinch.
"Or all naked. Do you feel well enough to get going?"
She nodded against him and playfully flicked her tongue over his nipple causing him to jerk with surprise. He growled at her but resisted retaliation, knowing things would only escalate if he tried anything. He disentangled himself from her limbs and pulled back, meeting her teasing gaze with one that made clear his frustration – as if it wasn't already painfully apparent from the bulge pushing at the front of his breeches.
"You do enjoy testing me, don't you," he grumbled while he stood and began donning his clothing again. He tossed hers to her so she could dress beneath the warmth of the covers.
"I have to make sure you're still interested. It wouldn't do us any good if we get to the ritual and you can't get it up for me anymore."
"Perish the thought," he said dryly.
His expression grew frustrated again and he sighed, then muttered towards his crotch, "After this trip, I can guarantee I'll be able to do my part when we get there."
He was heartened by her attitude this morning, at least. She seemed to be up to her old tricks which was a good sign. During the last few weeks there had been intermittent periods when she was utterly absent, and others when she would sit astride her horse muttering nonsense. He'd have to grab Ghost's reins and lead the horse down the road behind him when she would lose the ability to steer on her own.
They tore down their little camp and packed the horses, then prepared to mount and begin riding south again.
They were only half a day's ride from Ard Carraigh, but he had insisted they stay out of the cities after hearing some unsettling rumours in one of the northern townships they'd stopped in on their trip so far.
Since they'd been at Kaer Morhen, word of the White Queen had spread, as well as several highly exaggerated stories of her exploits based on the songs Dandelion had written about her.
He'd found a very interesting poster while buying supplies in one small town once they reached the mouth of the valley west of Kaer Morhen. The poster boasted details about her that were flattering to a large degree. He likened it to religious tracts the more questionable sects would pass around occasionally trying to gain interest in whatever ridiculous cause they stood for. People seemed to almost revere her already judging by the paper he held in his hand.
"I never did that," she objected after hearing Geralt recount one of the more outlandish stories he'd heard and gazing over his shoulder at the creased paper he held in his hand.
"You did kill two dragons... you told me so," he said. "I've only fought one dragon in my entire life, and I'm about five times as old as you."
"Yes. But only two. And I had an entire army to help with one of them. That story makes me sound like a god or something." She pointed at the poster he held, which included an image that was supposed to be her own figure and said, "And I definitely don't know how to shoot fireballs from my eyes. And you've seen me... I'm average. Nothing at all like that awful picture. That looks like a crazed whore with a leather fetish."
He looked her up and down with a serious expression. She was decidedly not average in that outfit, with those gorgeous white locks curling over her shoulders and her witcher eyes.
Although the picture in question was artfully rendered, he didn't think it did her beauty justice. Her breasts were much smaller – just the perfect size, by his estimation – and her nose was a bit longer, and her chin a bit wider, and her smile a bit kinder. And there were no fireballs shooting out of her eyes... at the moment.
Give it time, he thought with a smirk as he regarded her, but he remembered with a sudden pang of dread what had happened with Henselt on their journey north. This is what troubled him most. In spite of the positive slant her growing fame seemed to have, hew knew the recognition could be dangerous.
He hoped they didn't need to worry about Henselt any longer after the favor she'd done for him, but the other monarchs and regents in the land were like rabid dogs when it came to gaining an advantage over each other. If word of her presence was so widespread he knew they needed to tread carefully while they traveled.
He began to insist that she keep her hood up whenever possible, and keep her dark wool scarf wrapped around her head to cover her hair when they were in more populated areas. The populace was accustomed to seeing him pass through, so he wasn't concerned with his own appearance, but a woman who looked as she did was definitely going to attract notice.
At the moment she was dressed in her usual dragonhide armor, but with a drab tunic and skirt covering the soft leather. He'd bought a cheap black wool cloak in one of the towns they stopped in and spent an evening attaching the fabric to her dragonhide cloak. She would be warmer and she'd catch less notice dressed to look like a beleaguered winter traveler.
Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do about the dog. He gazed thoughtfully at Lusa who met his eyes and gave him an inquisitory "woof" while wiggling his stump-tailed behind. There were dogs in his world, but none that looked quite so much like a monster as this one did. He just hoped the dog hadn't been noticed on their trip north.
"Nothing for it now," he muttered as he adjusted his saddle and mounted in a swift, graceful motion, his leg brushing off a light layer of snow that had accumulated on the horse's backside. Roach let out a little huff when he settled his weight in his saddle. Vapor billowed out of her nostrils and she twitched her ears, then turned her head back to look at him impatiently with wide, dark eyes.
"Sorry to make you wait," he muttered at the horse, who snorted and shook her head in response. He dug his heels in and made a light clucking noise with his tongue and they got moving down the snowy road.
ooOoo
When she mounted her horse, Solona immediately began the series of exercises she'd begun doing daily in an attempt to control her mental state. Strangely, the use of magic seemed to give her more control over the power the voices had over her. She still couldn't control her reactions while she slept, however, especially if the previous evening was any indication.
She drew magic in from the air around her and held it, like she was holding a breath. While the power was inside her it seemed to infuse her body and her mind and she could feel the voices receding. Then she would release the magic in a slow stream of force aimed up into the air through gloved fingertips.
She would repeat this over and over, resting only briefly to regain her energy. After a few hours of practice she could usually last the rest of the day without feeling the Old Gods' pleas pulling at her mind again, even though she could still sense them. Drawing magic from this world was much easier than her own world, but it was still exhausting practice. With each day she could feel her capacity for it growing stronger, and the voices remained subdued longer.
She glanced at Geralt who seemed to be having a small conversation with Lusa before mounting his horse.
She smiled. His bearing seemed different now than when she'd first met him. She thought the conversation they'd had earlier might have something to do with his more relaxed demeanor.
"Geralt," she said as she shot a blast of force into the sky, causing the boughs above them to shake and making the snow gathered on the branches drift down into a cloud around her.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You seemed so... relieved earlier. Is the idea of saving the world – the worlds – and following me into mortal peril really that much better than the life you've had?"
Roach trotted ahead of Ghost, eager to get moving. He scolded the horse, holding her back. Their horses walked side by side for a time while Geralt contemplated his answer.
"You know Witcher life isn't easy. You've seen how we live. We're not human, we live on the fringes, scraping by a living trying to keep the monsters at bay. You've seen some of the fights yourself."
She nodded and blasted a cone of snow off a fencepost, making Lusa go galloping off the side of the road hunting for the elusive projectile.
"They were pretty intense fights," she said. "And you usually don't have help."
"No, we usually don't. And it feels all the more solitary an endeavor when we're faced with moral dilemmas. Monsters are one thing, but we… or I, anyway… somehow manage to get roped into the most convoluted political conflicts. It makes me wish for a monster to fight when I get stuck in it."
She snorted softly and uncurled her fingers to blast another pile of snow off a fencepost, sending Lusa further along, thinking he'd finally found his quarry.
"I understand that all too well," she said. "I think we're both cursed with some irrational need to do more, so we let ourselves get sucked in, and then we're forced to talk our way out. Or cut our way out by force if necessary. Cutting is probably the more expedient option, I think."
He let out a low chuckle. "Yes. Unfortunately that's not always the best option. But to answer your question, this is the first time in my life I've been given a reason to fight for something I truly believed in."
She studied him for a moment, then just nodded and continued her exercises.
They rode in silence for a time, then she said, "You never told me about the dragon you killed. Was it just another monster?"
"No... Dragons aren't monsters. And I didn't kill her." His tone grew somber and she turned her head to look at him curiously while she drew in more magic.
"Dragons – at least in this world – are like us. They're... creatures who get involved. They care about each other. They form close relationships with others – not just their own kind. They love. They hate. They're motivated by their connections with their world. Some can take the form of humans, too, if they choose to."
She let out another burst of magic into a nearby snowdrift. She said, "But you fought one of them. Did you have some quarrel with it?"
"With her... her name was Saskia. Saessenthesis was her true name. All she wanted was to make a better world for her followers. People who were as deserving of a better world as any of us are. She was under the influence of a sorceress and she gave me no choice but to fight her. I had to get close enough to free her from the spell."
"And you succeeded?"
He nodded, then sat in broody silence as their horses plodded down the trail.
After a moment Solona said, "You saved her and released her from the influence of the sorceress, yet you seem like you still regret it."
He shook his head. "No, I don't regret saving her. It wasn't her I was thinking about. I knew her father."
She turned to look at him again. "Her father... did they both live as humans?"
Geralt nodded.
"I haven't seen him in years. The last time I saw him, he was in his true form. His dragon form. Yennefer... " He spoke the name and a pained look crossed his face. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Yennefer was with me. She wanted me to kill him. She was insistent. Something about dragon blood curing infertility."
"She wanted to have a child with you," Solona said.
"Yes. It was a bit of an obsession for her. I never really understood it. She wasn't exactly the maternal type."
"But you refused..." Solona ventured.
"He was my friend," he stated simply. "I wouldn't have killed him. She may as well have asked me to kill Dandelion. I always thought I would do anything for her, but I think that's the moment things changed between us. My feelings changed. I saw her for who she really was."
"But I thought you loved her at the end... when she died."
"I did. That wasn't something I could stop doing, in spite of her nature. I'd seen her at her worst and I still loved her, but that... I couldn't forgive her for asking that of me."
"What happened after that?" Solona asked.
"Nothing... I let him go. She was angry. She forgave me... eventually. At least she pretended to."
Solona rode along in silence, but after some time couldn't contain her question any longer.
"Was she always like that? That... self involved, I mean." She tried to temper her tone so her real question wasn't obvious: How could you love someone like that?
She loosed a quick blast from her fingertips that came out a bit more forcefully than she'd intended and the fencepost she aimed it at exploded in a shower of splintered wood. She winced. So much for disguising her feelings.
Geralt seemed to choose his words carefully. "Yes and no. She had her moments. We all have our moments."
He seemed to be struggling to find something nice to say about the woman in question. If he'd loved her, how could it be so difficult?
Finally he let out a sigh and looked at her. "I was a different man when I met her. I was damaged, she was damaged. We fit together then. We made sense, and I didn't really think about the kind of person she was. When Ciri came into the picture everything changed. My priorities changed. Hers changed. Everything changed after that. That's when she became obsessed with having a child."
"She was jealous of Ciri," Solona said.
He didn't speak for a moment. Finally he said, "Yes. But she made an effort to be a mother to her in spite of it. I don't think she did it for Ciri's sake, but for my sake."
"Why for your sake?"
"Because I loved Ciri like a daughter. Her presence changed me. I found a measure of humanity I hadn't believed I could possess before she became a part of my life. I think Yennefer wanted that for herself, too, and believed the only way to get it would be to have a child of her own."
"I wish I'd known her," she said quietly. "Ciri, I mean. She sounds like she was a remarkable girl. From what you've told me, she reminds me of myself when I was younger."
She gave Geralt a sidelong glance and saw him smiling.
"Yes, you're actually a lot like her. I wish you could have known her, too."
"How old was she when she died?"
"Too young," was all he said.
After a moment he continued to speak, his voice rough with emotion. "She was... special. She had visions... like you. Eredin wanted her for her elven blood... took her, even. But she managed to escape. She was tenacious. A brutal killer at times, too. But she always seemed to understand what was most important. Even until the very end."
"I'm sorry you lost her," Solona said softly.
"It was her choice," Geralt said.
Solona could sense the pain in him and ached to reach out and comfort him. She'd had her share of loss, but couldn't imagine what it felt like to lose a child. Her own mother had committed suicide over losing her, so she believed it must be a far more painful thing to endure than other types of loss.
Not knowing what else to do at the moment she made a decision. Instead of blasting snow about, she expended a bit of energy to project a series of positive images from her past into his mind. All her happiest moments flooded out of her and into him.
He closed his eyes for several moments, then let out a sigh and turned to look at her, saying, "Yes, you would have liked Ciri."