A/N: Before you read this, I feel it's important to mention that I added a couple detaily things to Chapter 26 recently (just around the "crazed whore with a leather fetish" part). I also changed the very last paragraph of 28 which might be pertinent but it might not.

Conjunction

Chapter 31 - Poking the Wound

Geralt attempted to quell a combination of anger and panic as he shoved through the door to the kitchen. Lusa followed closely on his heels amidst a flurry of protests from the innkeeper. He found the kitchen girl back at her post slicing potatoes.

"Where is she." His voice was low and even, focused intently on the girl, but the intensity in his eyes and his brusque stride caught the attention of everyone in the kitchen.

The girl jumped, startled by his sudden presence so close to her. The knife missed the potato and sliced through the tip of her finger instead. The girl yelped and blinked rapidly as she watched the blood well up from her fingertip. Geralt cursed and grabbed a nearby rag and flung it at her. She flinched and wrapped her bleeding finger in it, tears forming in her eyes.

"Where is she. Where is Gwynrhena," he repeated, his volume rising a couple decibels. He vaguely registered that it was the first time he'd ever used that name for her. "I asked you to watch her and now she's missing."

The girl was still blinking at him in confusion. "Th-they came and said you wanted her cared for. A-at the hospital. Th-they took her."

The thin control he had on his temper began to evaporate. He was livid, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, he was on the verge of grabbing her and shaking her now. Who had said this? Who had taken her?

He gritted his teeth. His voice was low and threatening. "I said nothing to you about letting her get taken away. Who were these people who took her?"

The girl was visibly trembling in fear, but he was oblivious to the effect he was having on her. She staggered back a step from him. He was unsympathetic, advancing on her again.

Lusa growled next to him and the girl flinched backwards further. Her wide eyes and tear-streaked cheeks finally registered and he realized he had been looming over her menacingly. He was on a roll today, scaring young boys and girls both. He backed off a step and took a deep breath, forcing himself to cool down.

"Lusa, be still," he said quietly to the dog, who gave him a skeptical look but obeyed. He took a deep breath.

"Please," he sighed in desperation, forcing himself to try a different approach. "Whoever took her means her harm. They didn't come with my blessing. If you care about her... Gwynrhena, you'll tell me everything you can remember about them."

The girl blinked at him, evidently registering his distress and giving him a look of shock that turned quickly to dismay.

"Oh no! Is Gwynrhena in danger?" Her voice was shaky and her lower lip began to quiver. Her face scrunched up like she was about to begin a more productive bout of waterworks

He struggled to remain patient.

"Yes. Will you tell me or not?" he asked in a low, even tone that still carried an obvious hint of angry impatience.

She took a deep breath and nodded. She spoke quietly, so quietly he could barely hear her.

"There were two of them... a man and a woman. They were priest-like... dressed in church garb, I mean. Like the nuns at St. Lebioda's hospital. Th-that's why... I thought she was ill, and..."

"What did they look like? Did you see their faces?"

She nodded, twisting the corner of the dish rag between the fingers of her uninjured hand.

"The lady was pretty, with yellow hair and blue eyes. The man was... large and bearded... but he seemed kindly... in his eyes." She paused and pointed at Lusa. "The beast seemed to get upset at them. I was afraid he'd hurt them, but the woman said some words and he went to sleep."

She shrugged her shoulders and gazed at him, an abashed expression still clear on her face.

One of his worst fears for this journey had been realized and his mind swam trying to grasp at a solution. Solona had been taken. Not wandered off somewhere. Whoever had done it had taken the grimoire, too, which only added to his worry.

"Is that all you can remember?" he asked.

She looked at her shoes nervously and nodded. Geralt sighed in resignation.

As he was turning away, he heard her say with timid earnesty, "I hope milady will be alright... I-I'm truly sorry, sir. And I know some folks don't believe it's really her, but I do. After hearing the words she said while she slept, I have no doubt."

He turned back quickly and gripped her tightly around her upper arms. Her eyes grew wide and fearful at his expression.

"What words? Tell me what she said." He shook her slightly.

She stuttered out her reply. "O-only words about the winter and... th-the w-white flame from the old prophecy. And she said something about some inter-loper." Her tongue stumbled over the word as though it were unfamiliar to her, but he remembered it.

He released her with a terse nod and turned to leave. Someone... a sorceress most likely... had taken Solona. This meant one of the current regents or monarchs was looking for a pawn to leverage for power and had finally heard of her and discovered her location, sending a sorceress to acquire her for bargaining.

He hated this. He should never have left her, especially considering her precarious state. She'd never have been taken if she were in a condition to defend herself. And if it was a sorceress that had taken her, she could be anywhere. Where the hell did he start?

On the doorstep of the inn, he turned to Lusa. "Let me know if you smell anything familiar, boy." Lusa whoofed softly in reply and trotted ahead of him sniffing at the air and the ground.

He felt utterly lost. He had no idea where to go first. They might keep her in the city for a time, or they might have instantly spirited her away somewhere. He had no way of knowing. He followed Lusa down dark snow-covered alleys for an hour and felt more and more agitated at his impotence as they continued to come up empty. He found himself outside the hospital finally. He was certain she wouldn't be there, but it would be foolish not to check.

His questions and searches bore no more fruit there than Lusa's snuffling through the snow had so far. The only thing he discovered was that there were no attendants who fit the descriptions the girl had given him. He wasn't surprised.

He pulled out the poster he still had of her and thought about showing it in the taverns and whorehouses but knew it would be a waste of time. Citizens were hesitant enough to talk to him, much less submit to an inquisition. And only a very inept kidnapper would be so blatant about allowing her to be seen. He stood gazing at the elaborate sketch of her and couldn't help but smile. He was thankful that the posters had put her in a positive light at least, even if they were gross exaggerations.

So it was back to snuffling through the streets hoping the dog could pick up her scent. It was near midnight when he finally paused to rest. He slumped down against a low rock wall outside the manor of some random noble. Snow was falling more heavily now, sticking thickly to his cloak and boots. The tall oil lamps that were lit on the street cast an eerie glow through the snowfall around him. Lusa leaned his bulky weight against him and whined, shoving his large head into Geralt's lap for comfort. He idly stroked the beast's ears.

He felt as anxious as the dog but his anxiety was overshadowed by anger – at himself for leaving her alone, and moreso at whoever had taken her. He had to find her. And he had to fucking kill the person responsible.

He stalked through the streets for hours more with no results and finally had to admit to himself he'd be no use if he were exhausted while he continued the search. His only consolation was that he was fairly certain she'd been abducted for the purpose of ransoming and that meant they wouldn't kill her. He reluctantly trudged back to the inn, Lusa whining softly beside him as they went.

"We'll find her. If it kills us" he said to the dog.

When they reached the inn again, he tumbled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep hoping a new day would illuminate some answers for him.

The chill air seeped into Solona's bones and she shivered violently, her body's involuntary reaction pulling her out of her dreams. She was grateful for the respite at first but grew alarmed quickly when the sense of unfamiliar surroundings became apparent. She opened her heavy eyelids and looked around. It was dark and cold. She could see light seeping from beneath a closed door some yards away from her. She shifted her position and realized she was bound to a chair. She looked down and could see the heavy ropes tying her forearms to the arms of the chair, and her ankles to its legs.

She tried to speak, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

"Geralt? Lusa?" Her throat was dry and her tongue thick in her mouth. There was no response to her call. The only sound that reached her ears besides her own voice was the murmur of voices outside the door, but she couldn't make out the words. Shortly the voices disappeared along with the light and she was left in darkness.

Her last memory was of Geralt's voice in her ear, telling her they would be inside soon. She couldn't remember anything else besides the incessant visions of what the worlds could expect if they failed to carry out the ritual.

Not only her own, but Geralt's world and an entire other world depended on them, especially if this abnormal winter were any indication. She recalled the piles of dead they'd seen outside the villages they'd passed. It was too cold to dig graves and wood was too scarce to build pyres for them. They'd have to wait until spring to properly see their loved ones committed to their versions of the afterlife. In the meantime the piles of dead, frozen bodies would continue to grow. But it was nothing compared to what she'd seen in her visions.

She just hoped Geralt would be able to find her, wherever she was now. She had no recollection of being taken. All she knew was that she was tied to a chair in a cold, dark room. She reached out her mind to find Geralt but encountered nothing but dark haze.

She was still tired and cold from the journey. Her limbs ached. She was far too weak to even attempt a spell. And her eyes didn't seem to want to work. Though there was scant light in the room, she should still be able to see clearly. Everything was blurry and her vision wavered, making her nauseous. Had she been drugged?

She found it difficult to focus enough to maintain consciousness and drifted off again, finding warmth in the visions of her homeworld.

She felt her skin prickle from the summer heat beneath the lightweight fabric of her dress, but she didn't care. She was still tingling in other places from the late afternoon excursion she'd shared with Garrett.

They'd barely spoken for days, stuck in some silly argument about who was better at fighting with staves. He was always better at swords, she didn't dispute that. They both knew she was better at staves but he'd challenged her anyway and lost, then proceeded to give her the evil eye for the next few days. He was never such a sore loser when Carver beat him, but then she suspected when Carver won it was because Garrett let him.

Today he'd apologized. He admitted, much to her delight, that she was superior at staff fighting than he was, and that he'd stick to swords from now on. Once they'd made it to their sanctuary by the lake he had proceeded to impress on her how skilled he was with his 'sword'. The memory made her smile to herself and warmth tingled between her thighs again.

The sun was drifting behind the hills that bordered the lake as they made their way back to the house. They hadn't made it far from the lake when she felt his hand grip hers tightly and pull her to a stop. Her blood rushed to her head as he pulled her into his broad chest and bent his head to kiss her. She sank into him, moaning softly against his lips. She hated it when they fought, but making up was almost worth it.

"Sol," he said in his deep voice as he pulled back from the kiss. She could still remember when his voice had cracked endearingly when he would say her name. That was only a couple years past, but seemed like an eternity.

She smiled up at him. "What, Garrett?" Her arms wrapped around him and held him close. She was still warm and glowing from their tryst.

His eyes seemed troubled and she grew immediately serious in response. "What is it?"

"There have been templars lurking about the village more and more lately." He shook his head slowly. "I'm worried... this isn't good."

She nodded. "I've seen them. But we haven't done anything to draw attention. Why would they look for us?"

He pulled his arms away from her and gripped her hand in his, drawing her away from the path to sit at the base of a large shady tree they both enjoyed laying beneath on sunny days. The dwindling sunlight cast long shadows on the sun-scorched grass beneath them.

He was clearly distressed but she wasn't sure how she could ease his worries. Templars were a constant threat, she knew. There would be nothing they could do if they were found out. She and Garrett and Bethany would all be carted off to the Circle like slaves. It would be horrible.

He clenched his eyes shut and said, "I wish dad was still alive. He was the one keeping them away, you know."

She gave him a perplexed look.

Garrett nodded. "Dad told me once that he had a mutual understanding with Ferelden's Knight-Commander. He said..." he paused for a moment and looked at her, hesitating to continue. After a moment he said, "No... he didn't want me to tell anyone."

She glared at him, exasperated. "Tell anyone what? If it's to do with templars I have every right to know. They're a threat to all of us, Garrett."

He tensed briefly, then took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing on end in short spikes. He looked at her and breathed out harshly through his nose.

"You're right. You need to know... for a couple reasons, but he didn't want Mama or the twins to know, at least not until the twins were much older." He gave her a hard look and she raised her eyebrows, peering at him with an exaggeratedly inquisitive expression.

He rolled his eyes at her and spoke again. "He had a templar friend in Kirkwall who was close with Ferelden's Knight-Commander. That's why he and Mama decided to come here."

He shrugged and toyed with a small piece of wood, his face lost in memory. "Dad told me the man helped them leave Kirkwall when they married. He helped them come to Ferelden. He also said he helped your father get you out and send you to us. It's for his safety Dad never wanted us to talk about him. For a templar to be that sympathetic to mages... it would mean exile at best..." His expression grew broody and he didn't continue the thought.

He took a deep breath a moment later and said in halting syllables, "But he told me... he told me if anything should... happen to him, that I needed to be vigilant. The Knight-Commander wouldn't be able to look the other way forever."

Solona was shocked speechless. It hurt a little to think that her uncle had never shared these details with her, but she supposed she understood. It still frightened her to think that there might be a real possibility of the templars coming for them now.

Garrett sighed and with a brief burst of magic turned the small piece of wood he held into a block of brittle ice, then crushed it into pieces letting the frozen splinters fall to the ground.

"Dad would know what to do. He always knew what to do." He banged his head back against the tree trunk in frustration.

"Well, he's not here. We can figure this out on our own. We have to," she said.

Garrett laughed sardonically. "I can't help but think about what he said before he died. Do you remember?"

She stared up at the sky for a moment, watching clouds drift by ablaze with the orange glow of sunset. Finally she said, "He said we'd need to find our own paths. He said we'd know the right path when it was presented to us. Then he babbled on about dragons and witches and... Qunari? Of all things? It made no sense whatsoever."

He barked out a harsh laugh then stared at the ground for a moment, picking at the blades of grass before him. "I never thought dad was the kind to wax prophetic but that's what it sounded like he was doing..."

She laughed quietly and nodded.

"Maybe this was what he meant... about finding our own paths," he said.

Her emotions churned, the turmoil inside her a sharp contrast to the warm, peaceful dusk settling around them.

"Maybe it is," she replied.

Some time later, large hands shook her awake. She opened her eyes in a daze and looked up into a man's face that could generously be described as unsavory. She saw large red-rimmed eyes and a downturned mouth surrounded by a thick black beard. His lips were drawn together in a tight line. He smelled nice, at least, which was at odds with his appearance. He had a faintly floral scent lingering on him that she thought she recognized but couldn't easily place.

"You need to eat, milady," he said, his voice deep and almost reverent.

She looked down at the plate he held in his hand, her vision swimming. The smell of roasted meat hit her nostrils and her stomach rumbled greedily.

"Do you plan on feeding me by hand, then?" she slurred, attempting to look into his eyes, then down at the ropes that bound her wrists. Her vision wavered. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear it. She'd never felt this sluggish after a vision. She had to assume they'd drugged her.

He frowned and nodded, then pulled a chair over and sat down opposite her. She watched, her vision still wavering as he perched the plate on his lap. She fixated minutely on his movements as he began delicately carving the meat into bite-sized pieces, then the vegetables. His hands were calloused, but deft; the knife he used was a little dull, requiring extra pressure to cut. The meat had been cooked rare and reddish juices seeped out of it when he cut it. Her stomach growled loudly as she watched him.

He stopped cutting her food and laid down the knife and fork.

"Do you want to drink first?" he asked hesitantly, leaning down and picking something up from beside his chair, then holding up a wineskin before her.

Who was this man? He can't have been her captor if he was being so oddly kind to her. She had the urge to mouth off to him, but her mouth didn't seem to want to work properly.

He seemed to interpret her frustration and his expression softened. He set the wineskin down again and bowed his head.

"It's an honor for me, Gwynrhena, if you must know," he said in a whisper, then glanced at the door with a wary expression.

She was too confused with the effects of the drugs to properly contemplate his actions. She blinked at him. If he believed she was the White Queen, why the hell was she tied up?

She struggled to gain control of her tongue and managed to blurt out, "You're not my kidnapper are you?"

He hesitated, then said, "No, milady."

He seemed unwilling to say more.

"You won't tell me who is, will you."

He simply shook his head and held up a forkful of food to her.

It smelled so good she didn't resist and opened her mouth, letting him place it on her tongue. She chewed and closed her eyes silently in appreciation. It tasted so good. Her hunger overcame her curiosity and she let him feed her for a time, savoring the taste of the hot food on her tongue. It was a strong contrast to the quality of fare she and Geralt had endured on the road the past two weeks.

Her captor held up the wine flask again after she swallowed a recent bite. She nodded and he tilted it over her mouth. Sweet wine spilled between her lips and her tastebuds tingled at the sensation. Oh that was good. She looked back at the man, her eyes bright. She had trouble consolidating images and blinked a few times trying to size him up. He seemed less ominous than when he'd entered the room. He was still huge but his eyes were attentive. He held up another forkful of food, with an inquisitive look.

She shook her head. "I'm full, but thank you."

"More drink?" he asked. She nodded and he tilted the skin over her mouth again.

"What's your name?" she managed to force out after swallowing the wine.

The man hesitated, then said in his low, deep voice, "Rafe."

She flinched back slightly when he lifted up a hand to catch a drop of wine that had escaped her mouth. His touch was gentle as his calloused thumb brushed across her lips. She stared at him warily but he averted his eyes when they met hers briefly, as if in deference.

"Rafe," she repeated. She wanted to say more but her mind was growing dim. She could sense the voices clamoring for attention again and cursed inwardly.

She wanted him to let her go. She thought she could convince him to if she could only speak, but her tongue didn't want to work for some reason and her mind was growing increasingly uncooperative.

She was a fool. They'd probably put more drugs in the wine to keep her docile, but she'd been so thirsty. She had a brief moment of panic in which she wondered whether it was simply her own mind rebelling against her, the visions themselves keeping her from maintaining consciousness. She couldn't decide which would be worse.

"Milady, don't fret. The witchman's spell will wear off soon and we can let you out. It'll be alright."

She felt a heavy, warm hand rest atop hers for a second in a comforting gesture. Then he picked up the plate and flask of wine and left the room quietly.

She heard the bolt in the door slide into place behind him. She tried to make sense of his words but now that she was in darkness again the sounds of the voices came back with renewed vigor in her mind, threatening to pull her back into another vision of the past or the future.

She blinked her eyes in frustration trying to resist. Not tonight. I need to be sane tonight, dammit. Just leave me fucking be! She floundered ineffectually for a moment, but felt herself being pulled inexorably into their dreams again.

The inevitable was finally happening. The templars loomed on horseback outside the door. Six of them eyeing them all as though they were abominations. They dismounted and a pair of them strode through the door after being invited in, leaving the others on guard outside. Their gracious manners were at odds with the palpable tension at their presence.

Leandra was polite, even going so far as to offer them tea. But the templars didn't want to waste time. This was no social call for them and they weren't about to pretend it was. They were here for one reason.

She looked at Garrett who gazed back at her with a brief, agonized expression that flickered only for a split second before disappearing behind a calm facade. She saw the fingers of his hand clench and knew he was itching to have his sword gripped in it or to fling some spell at the men who were presently invading their home. She was relieved he restrained himself.

"Sers, our home is yours. Please let us know how we can be of assistance," he said with far more politeness than she'd ever heard from him.

The lead templar pulled off his helmet to reveal a greying countenance and turned his serious gaze back to Garrett. "There have been rumours in the village. Suspicious behavior of the type apostates are prone to engage in."

Garrett blinked at him with surprise. "Behavior from whom, good sers? If there are apostates about, we'd like nothing more than to see them brought to justice."

Solona almost smiled. He was so very convincing but she knew he was secretly mocking them. She watched the templars, but their leader seemed to see through Garrett's words.

"Are there apostates in this house? Speak honestly. We have ways to find you out, boy. If you give up without a fight it will go much easier than if you resist."

She watched as Garrett's eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles twitched. She saw the other templar eyeing Bethany and Carver who were both putting up a brave front but she could tell they were terrified.

"There are no apostates here," he forced through clenched teeth.

She caught an almost imperceptible flicker of magic along the palm of Garrett's hand where it was held at his side, and the two templars immediately stiffened as though they were attuned to it. The second templar took half a step towards them and began to draw his sword.

It was at that moment when she knew what had to be done. This was her path. She set her jaw and stepped forward resolutely.

"It's me you want," she said softly. She bowed her head in submission, letting sparks of harmless magic flicker across her fingertips, hoping it would disguise the source of the magic they'd detected. She had to be convincing. She knew Garrett and Carver could easily be overlooked as young fighters, and Bethany was too sweet and timid to ever seem a threat. If they would believe anyone in this house was a mage, it would be her with her red hair and looks that in no way resembled her cousins.

"No!" Garrett said sharply, his voice a strangled croak. He stared at her with a desperate expression. "No, Solona. I… I can't lose you."

One of the templars was coming towards her with leather bindings. The leader waved him back and looked at her appraisingly. She was struck by the calculated look in his eyes and almost thought she saw admiration lingering there beneath it. She heard him whisper almost inaudibly to her, "Brave girl." He glanced at Garrett and the others and said, "Say your goodbyes."

She turned to look at Garrett and felt hot tears well up in the corners of her eyes at his panicked expression. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but heard her voice catch when she said, "You know I have to, Garrett."

He gave her a pained look before turning his head and staring fixedly at some point outside the window. The muscles of his jaw clenched rhythmically. She watched as he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again and knew he understood that she was right. She had to let them take her so they would leave the others alone. He had to stay to keep the others safe.

Garrett looked back at her and seemed to read the sadness in her eyes. He stepped close and reached a large hand up to cup her cheek. He pressed his lips to hers, then looked into her eyes.

"Did I ever tell you that you're the bravest girl I know?" he asked in a whisper.

She couldn't help but laugh, though it came out a bit weakly. "And how many girls do you really know?"

"None quite so well as you." His expression was anguished and she watched his throat work as he tried to swallow his emotions.

"I'll always remember you. Always," she said softly. She felt his hand shift to her neck and his fingertips dig into her flesh. He pulled her close and whispered against her ear, "I will never forget you. Never."

He embraced her tightly and she was only half aware of the sound of a soft sob from somewhere else in the room. She turned to see Bethany clinging to her mother and crying. She went to them and hugged them both. Leandra reached a hand up and gently brushed a wayward curl behind her ear and gave her a gentle, sad smile.

"Malcolm was always so proud of you. It's been a pleasure to watch you grow into such an amazing young woman."

Her younger cousin dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, then flung herself at Solona.

"Oh, Sol! I'll miss you. I wish you didn't have to go!"

Solona hugged her tight and said, "It's for the best. Take care of the boys, Beth. You're the smart one now – make sure they don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Beth stepped back with a nod and made a valiant effort to put a smile on her face.

Carver was standing to the side with a grim expression, his eyes reddened from rubbing his tears away. When she turned to him he gave her a half-hearted smile and she could see his lower lip quivering. She pulled him into a tight embrace, surprised at his strength when he crushed her to him. When had he gotten so big? He was as big as Garrett now, and stronger it seemed, even though he was still soft around the edges. She thought she might have bruises after his hug.

"Take care of your sister and Aunt Leandra, okay?" She only felt him nod as she pulled away. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes harshly. She struggled to hold her own tears at bay.

Finally she turned and walked to the templars. She nodded to them.

"I'm ready," she said in a shaky voice.

Their grey-haired leader eyed her cousins once more before gripping her by the arm and leading her towards the templar behind him who was prepared with her bindings. She wondered if the older man was the Knight-Commander her uncle had known, which might explain how kind he seemed to be. The other man didn't seem so friendly, however, and leered at her suggestively as he bound her wrists.

"We've found the apostate," the leader announced to the other templars as he pushed her out the door. "Let's get her back to the Circle."

She was set astride a horse. One of the other templars mounted behind her and seemed hesitant to even touch her.

She couldn't help but look back at her cousins once they started moving away. She quenched a sob that she felt rising up from her gut as she saw all their stricken faces watching her leave.

Garrett was standing tall beside his mother and the twins. His hands were clutched tightly in Leandra's and Bethany's. Carver stood bravely beside his mother. Garrett's dark hair stood on end the way it did when he'd run his fingers through it too many times in agitation over something. His expression was stoic, but she could see the anguish in his eyes.

I'll remember you always, she thought to herself. As they rode away she finally felt the tears begin trailing hotly down her cheeks.

Geralt jerked awake and stared into the darkness above him. He recalled vividly the images from the dream. Her dream. She can't have gone far if they were still sharing dreams, could she? He was suddenly convinced she must still be in the city.

He stood quickly and nudged at Lusa gently with the toe of his boot.

"Get up lazybones, we're going to break into someone's house today."

The dog stood excitedly and looked at him with his head cocked to one side. Geralt chuckled softly at the beast's expression.

He strapped on his swords, stowed some food in a pouch and hung his waterskin to his belt, then threw his cloak over his shoulders and went out the door.

Another thought had occurred to him as he'd been drifting off into an exhausted sleep a few hours earlier. He needed a sorceress to help find another sorceress. Triss was too far away. He would need a telecommunicator to contact her. But he knew Yennefer's house wasn't far from this inn. And Yennefer was the only sorceress he knew in this city who had a telecommunicator.

He grimaced at the thought of asking Yennefer for help. He hadn't exactly been ecstatic during their reunion and she had obviously left in a poor frame of mind. He'd prefer to get Triss here first if it were possible. With any luck, Yennefer was still in Ban Glean. He could sneak into her house and use the mirror to contact Triss and ask for her help.

But if Yennefer had teleported home already... He could just imagine stumbling through her house and finding her indisposed in some fashion. That would be the best case. Worst case she would find him first and... he had no idea what she'd do. Stab him with a fire poker? Turn him into a bug, then squash him? He sighed. He needed to be cautious at least. If she was there he just hoped he could apologize to her convincingly enough to enlist her help. He began rehearsing conversations in his head. He needed to have something to say to her that would convince her unequivocally to help him find Solona.

"Yennefer, I'm sorry I was a shithead to you in Ban Glean, but I need your help to find my witcher lover or the world's going to end."

He glanced at Lusa. "Do you think that will convince her?" Lusa snorted and shook his head, slinging slobber onto the snowy cobbles beneath him. Geralt laughed mirthlessly and said, "No... me neither."

He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Half an hour later Geralt stood silent at the end of the snow-covered street Yennefer's house sat on. He gazed down the street for a moment, hesitant to approach any closer. The house was one of the smaller dwellings in a more affluent district of Vengerberg, but one of the more notable ones.

It was a narrow, three-story structure built of white stone with a steeply sloping black slate roof and black shutters. It was still very well kept and pretty on the outside, as he remembered it being when he had lived there with her. She'd always insisted on having blooming lilacs year-round, even if it required magic to make it happen. True to form, there were pure white lilacs in full bloom bursting through the black wrought-iron fences that surrounded the three-story townhouse. From a distance the bushes almost looked like huge snowdrifts had been piled upside-down along the fenceline.

The weather had cleared and dawn was breaking with a beautiful rosy glow that Geralt barely even noticed as he stared at the house. There was no sign anyone was home, but it was dawn and Yennefer, ever the night owl, would have been sound asleep at this hour with curtains drawn. If she were even home.

Geralt sighed and glanced down at the big black dog beside him. Lusa looked back and snorted as if to say "well, what are you waiting for?"

Geralt shrugged and shook his head. He began to resolutely walk towards Yennefer's house.

His booted feet crunched through the snow and he felt a little too attuned to the sounds around him. The city was waking up with the dawn, and its all too familiar noises gave him an odd feeling.

He'd walked this path so many times, he felt like he was just coming home after a night hunting a contract, or even just out drinking. On those past mornings he remembered looking forward to sliding into bed next to her warm body and making love in the dim light of morning. Afterward they would fall asleep in each other's arms and not wake again until Noon. He would try to seduce her again, but she would grow impatient and rise, insistent that she had some pressing business to attend to that she would never elaborate on, then she would abruptly leave him to his own devices.

"Frustrating harpy," he cursed softly to himself, but there was no real venom in his words. With each step closer to her door he felt increasingly haunted by memories of her, the good and bad ones so closely intertwined he had a hard time distinguishing between them.

Before he knew it his feet had carried him of their own accord onto her doorstep. He watched with a feeling of odd detachment as his hand reached for the door latch as though he still lived there. He opened the door and walked inside.

A/N: I know it may seem like I'm getting a tad too wrapped up in the Garrett/Solona history thing, but trust me it will be pertinent (at least I hope, with the vague plan I have for it). Since I rewrote chapter 1 and dumped a huge chunk of expository backstory for her, I felt it necessary to plug that stuff in elsewhere, and I like the ideas of dreams/flashbacks to do that. And I'm having a great time writing these, too. Maybe even too much since it's making me want to write an entire prequel that deals with her life before she joined the Grey Wardens. Must finish this story first! :)

I would really appreciate feedback on the changes I've made to the story, as well as the new turn it's taken. I don't like writing in a vacuum so it helps to know what you guys are thinking as things progress.

Also, infinite thanks to Danish Existence for her fantastic feedback on this chapter. If you haven't read her Witcher story yet, please do!