Warnings:

Contains spoilers for the Witcher 3 Wild Hunt and Hearts of Stone

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

"to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds,"

His voice was unnaturally cold, his throat constricted from fear of the question he knew the answer to. His being here couldn't be purely adventitious. O'Dimm just smiled at him presumptuously with a patronizing stare, belittling him, Geralt hated that about him, that sense of always being one step ahead.

"Straight to the point I see. Is that any way to treat an old friend." He said, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arms as he took a step closer, standing right before the Witcher, fingers together, his eyes turning to Yennefer, who was still wrapped around Geralt's arm looking up at the unannounced guest uncertainly. Her reticent manner was uncharacteristic and somehow, unnerving. "Please, do introduce me Geralt, I would not dare to risk offending such a beautiful lady."

"I think we are acquainted with one another well enough, Master Mirror, so let's skip the pleasantries." She said callously, tossing her hair and smiling indifferently at him.

"Very well my lady," he answered, bowing again eyes never leaving her face, "of course I should have known that your beloved had recounted his fateful adventure to you, I imagine you've had much time to talk in Corvo Bianco. By the way, I must congratulate you on your wonderful garden Yennefer, the lilacs are truly stunning and the smell is superb, I can see why it is easy for you two to so often fall asleep there, under the stars. The scent reminds you of home, does it not? Tell me Ciri, is that why the flowers in the vase by your bed are always those picked from your mother's garden in Toussaint?"

The Enchantress didn't react to his gibe, she was used to people trying to play her for a reaction, being able to maintain an air of indifference, a mask of ice, was how you survived the political battlefield. But she couldn't keep the anger from her eyes which burned menacingly, especially when she felt the man beside her tense and Ciri gasp quietly behind her.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to," said Yennefer scathingly, "it's tedious. Get to the point, or leave." The wandering merchant bowed his head to her, with sardonic excess, still smiling coldly, eyes as dark as the depths of the ocean.

"At once, my lady. Geralt, I've come to collect on a debt." The room was buzzing like a swarm of gnats, the mages were watching the display with mounting interest, but the air was thick with apprehension, people kept their distance from the figure instinctively. He reeked of death and misery.

"I don't owe you anything." Said the Witcher firmly and he felt Yennefer squeeze his arm and Ciri move up beside him, he drew strength from their presence.

"Oh, but you do Geralt," said O'Dimm, slowly picking up a cheese knife from a nearby table and running his fingers over the smooth surface of the blade, "and as you are well aware I always get what I'm owed, even if I have to take it by force."

Master Mirror dug the knife into the table with a thud which was instantaneously drowned out by Geralt's cry as he fell to his knees, howling like a wounded animal as razor sharp pain shot through his body as though millions of pins were piercing his flesh completely enveloping his senses, he didn't feel Yennefer wrap her arms around him, didn't notice her scent, didn't hear Ciri's cry. All he knew was pain. Unconscionable pain. Pain unlike anything he'd felt before, in those few seconds the pain he experienced extended beyond a lifetime of suffering, and beyond mortal understanding.

"I've come to collect your suffering, Geralt of Rivia." Said O'Dimm as he quickly pulled the knife free backing away from the group in surrender and throwing the blade at Ciri's feet as she took a step towards him. Geralt gasped for air, his body shaking as he clung to the Sorceress like a lifeline as she tried desperately to extinguish his pain, whispering tenderly in his ear and running a hand through his long hair.

"No." Hissed Geralt through bared teeth as he rose to his feet and helping Yennefer up before striding over to the merchant. "I won your little game O'Dimm, I don't owe you shit."

"Do you think I can be tricked by your lies?" He said angrily as his eyes flashed yellow and his usually passive features slowly transformed into a mask of pure contempt, unlike anything the Witcher had seen before. That more than anything filled him with fear. "You cheated! That's how you won, you cheated me, you must have. I can't have lost, no, no. Not again, no! I don't know how Geralt, but you did. You cheated me." His once elegant speech was becoming erratic, nigh on unintelligible, as though he was battling against himself, facing cognitive dissonance. Like he was teetering on the edge of self-control.

"I won fairly O'Dimm. I followed your rules, I solved the riddle. There is no debt." Shouted Geralt as he watched the Man of Glass walk away into the centre of the room with his back to him, the mages parting to the sides, compelled to move away by either self-preservation or something else.

"You, Geralt of Rivia, are a cheat!" The mysterious figure whirled around to face him, his skin drained of life to a ghostly white, his face as hollow as a skull, veins as black as midnight snaking over his face, yellow eyes searing from deep sockets like fire. He'd lost his balance, and descended into atavism. Death reincarnate. "You think you can break rules to get your way, well, two can play at that game, damn the consequences." O'Dimm clapped his hands. The sound echoed in the silence. Then hell broke loose. "I will teach you what it means to suffer, Geralt."

Clap. Yennefer let out a bloodcurdling scream collapsing into Geralt's arms, clutching her sides as green poison coursed through her blood like molten lava. Clap. Triss bent over double, her body wracked with violent coughs as she threw up blood and water which made her mouth burn. Clap. Eskel, Lambert, and Keira cried in pain as they hopelessly tried to snuff out the fire scorching their skin, the smell of burnt flesh making their stomachs churn. Clap. Zoltan and Dandelion were knocked to the ground, blood dripping from deep cuts and scratches marring their skin, they screamed in agony.

"In your mortal life, I will cling to you like a shadow and everything you touch will know pain. You shall live as one by one their life slowly ebbs away from their bodies, over days, weeks, years, centuries, and when misery finally breaks your heart, I will be waiting for you, for your soul so that your immortal life can suffer at my hands." Said O'Dimm, laughing maliciously as the screams pierced through the Witcher, shattering his heart into pieces like a dagger thrust into icy water.

"I have enough interruptions for this week." A streak of blue flame shot from Philippa's fingertips, hitting O'Dimm square in the back enveloping his entire body, the air around him shimmering from the heat like air from a furnace. The merchant didn't flinch, nor did his smile falter as he simply brushed the magic from his body as though wiping away dust, eyes flashing with amusement. He vanished. Geralt heard Philippa gasp.

"Pesky, foul thing." Said the Man of Glass, standing where the Sorceress had been only a moment before with an owl clasped in his hands by the feet, frantically flapping its wings as it swung through the air as the man walked back over towards the chaos. "Arrogant, even for a mage." He threw the bird against the wall and it bounced off, landing in a soup bowl on the table coating its feathers in a thick liquid, preventing the bird from flying free as it slipped around and ruffled its feathers, hooting dismally. "Do not interfere." He said, looking at the mages huddled against the sides of the room, too intrigued to move and too fearful to run. "I have an anathema for being interrupted. And what is the point of fighting me, Philippa Eilhart, what exactly do you think you're fighting for? Your desire will forever go unfulfilled, she will never look at you the way she looks at him, you know this, so why waste your time, because time is precious."

Yennefer buried her cries in Geralt's chest as he held her tightly, stroking her hair and holding her hands which radiated heat like hot metal, trying desperately to do something to ease her suffering. Ciri patted Triss on the back, holding back her hair as she struggled to breathe. Cerys and Hjalmar were trying to put out the fire burning the other Witchers and Keira, throwing jugs of water which Ermion conjured over them, but it simply evaporated on their scorching skin. Priscilla, Ves, and Roche were using cloth torn from the tables to halt Dandelion and Zoltan's bleeding, as blood gushed from their wounds like a fountain.

"You think this week has been a nightmare Witcher?" Taunted O'Dimm as he circled around the group as though admiring a wonderful flower bed, a masterpiece born from his own hands. "The cave, the fire, the storm, the assassins, but just you wait and see what it's like to live in constant fear, to always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for something to come for your loved ones, the bard, the dwarf, your two brothers, the two Sorceresses, and of course, your Yen. Since the day your Sorceress moved into Corvo Bianco, you've been afraid. Afraid that the peace was too good to last, how often has Yennefer complained to you that you're being overprotective, I wonder? You didn't even want to let her go to Novigrad alone. These past years you've been trying so desperately to save what you have, but you can't save her from me, Geralt. Just be glad that I cannot touch your child of destiny, but I assure you that once I am finished with you, once she has seen her friends, her Mother, suffer because of you, she will also be lost to you."

"Stop this!" Shouted Geralt as the small figure continued to shake and scream in his arms, tearing him to shreds. "Take my soul, and end this."

"And make this easy for you? I think not." Sneered O'Dimm. "Besides, I don't need your permission. I can take what I want, do as I please, and it makes me very happy indeed to witness how your soul bleeds as you watch their suffering. Helplessly. But…" The Witcher pulled the Enchantress closer as the merchant stopped in front of them, crouching down and peering into his narrowed eyes smiling. "I feel like having some fun today Geralt, to truly enjoy myself, so I'll give you a little hope." O'Dimm clapped his hands, the noise filling the silence as the screams and shouts ceased.

"Yen, are you alright?" Asked Geralt, brushing aside Yennefer's hair to look at her face, which was shining with cold sweat, she nodded at him as she tried to draw air into her starved lungs.

"Ready yourself Geralt, come try your luck against me." Said Master Mirror as he paraded egotistically around the centre of the room hands on his hips, soaking in the limelight as though this was all one marvellous spectacle to behold. Without a second's hesitation, Geralt kissed Yennefer on the cheek as he rose to his feet, walked away, ready to face death, to put himself between the figure and those he cared for.

"No." Said the Raven-haired Sorceress calmly, rising to her feet, head held high, shoulders back and her face comported menacingly, sparks dancing from her eyes as she gracefully strode over to Geralt. "You will not face him alone."

"Yen, no." He pleaded, holding an arm out to stop her.

"Geralt, not so long ago you told me that whatever hardship you face we share together, always. You did not let me face my burden alone, nor shall I, my love." Said Yennefer softly, lowering his arm.

"I think I'll take those odds." Said Ciri as the young ashen-haired woman stood on his other side, fists clenched as she stared at O'Dimm vengefully, rage surging through her veins.

"Yeah, I'm feeling lucky today." Jeered Eskel, nodding at his old friend, as he, Triss, Keira, Zoltan, and Lambert marched over, walking around the figure on the centre stage to stand opposite the others.

"We've had enough of Usurpers for a lifetime." Said Ves rolling her shoulders as she and Roche stood to the side of the circle, between the two groups.

"He's just asking for some Skellige steel." Boomed Hjalmar balling his fists as he, Cerys and Ermion stood across from the Temerians.

O'Dimm looked around the circle enclosing him, arms open in a wide gesture as though addressing an audience, smiling malevolently, eyes burning like coals.

"Your pain, your blood, sweat and tears stain his hand." Said O'Dimm spitefully, pointing to Geralt accusingly. "Yet you'll fight beside him in this pointless battle. You mortals are stupid, but who am I to deny you the chance to choke on your sentiment."

He brought his hands together, the applause sending a wave of force over the ground as though they were being buffeted by the wind, staggering backwards. When Geralt looked down his elegant clothing had been replaced by his Witcher armour and the familiar feel of two swords against his back. He saw Ciri unsheathe her sword out of the corner of his eye, felt his medallion vibrate as magic crackled on Yennefer's fingertips, he heard the rustling of armour and clanking of weapons as the group all stood battle ready, their finery replaced with the gear they used to survive. The fire in their eyes helped melt away his dread as he pulled his silver sword loose, its runes glowing with anticipation.

"Let's get this over with quickly." Said O'Dimm has he pulled an hourglass from one of his satchels, running his fingers against the glass, before flipping it over and slamming it into the ground causing the red grains of sand within to shudder and slip down one by one.

Twang. An arrow flew from Ves' bow soaring through the air as the others rushed towards the devilish figure patiently waiting for them. Just as the arrow was about to strike the side of O'Dimm's head he touched it with his finger and the projectile leapt to the side, circling around his head and shooting back the way it came. There was a scream as it pierced through Ves' shoulder burying itself in the stone, pinning her to the wall like insect held in a glass display, her bow clattering to the floor beside her.

Roche ran to her but fell to the floor with a thumb as hundreds of pieces of cutlery, prominently spoons, snaked around his ankles, melting together into a thick band of metal which moulded itself around his legs, pinning them together, burning his skin like a poker from a hot fire.

With his other hand, the Man of Glass threw a match stick behind him and a wall of fire erupted, cutting off Lambert and Eskel as the heat of the blaze burnt their eyes. Geralt slashed at his exposed chest but the man knocked the blow aside with his arms carelessly, it felt as though the silver blade was bouncing off stone. Before he could correct his balance O'Dimm struck with unnatural speed which dominated his own enhanced abilities, just as a fist was about to connect with Geralt's stomach he felt Yennefer's magic guarding his body as she erected a barrier around him, but even with the protection the blow hit him with such almighty power it sent him flying backwards twenty feet, landing in a heap on his back, severally winded.

As the Witcher almost knocked into her Ciri vanished, appearing behind the figure, but he seemed to sense her coming. He spun around catching her wrist as she tried to swing at him, his grip was cold sending shivers down her spine and making her hairs stand on end. Before she could react he seized the front of her shirt and threw her to the side as though she was as light as a doll and Ciri skid along the floor before she managed to nimbly roll into a crouching position and spring once more into action. But as she ran towards him she felt her movements begin to slow as cold leaked through her bones, locking them in place until she was frozen to the spot like a statue.

Keira managed to part the fire, and the two Witchers leapt through the gap, greeted on the other side by O'Dimm's cruel smile and maddening eyes. He clicked his fingers and Keira screamed in panic, clutching her eyes and leaning on Triss for support as the world around her went black, her eyes searing like coals, burning away her sight.

In perfect unison, the two men struck, their blades cutting into the merchant's body as though it wasn't there, going right through him. They didn't see him rematerialize between them until an unseen force hit them like a brick wall, pushing them in opposite directions as they were flung off their feet. Lambert wiped the dust from his eyes as he got to his feet, there was a horrendous crack, he looked up in horror as part of the ceiling collapsed plummeting towards him, burying him alive as Triss managed to prevent the rocks from crushing him.

Hjalmar's axe shattered as it smashed into O'Dimm's head, splintering like glass and a gloved hand shot out and grabbed him by the neck, lifting the warrior off the floor as he kicked and squirmed like a fish out of water, spluttering for air.

Dagger in hand Cerys leapt onto Master Mirror's back her arm raised as she plunged the weapon into his chest where it simply seemed to dissolve into his person like ice placed in a pool of boiling water. Sighing with boredom he reached up and seized the young women by her plait and flinging her over his shoulder and into the druid who was casting a spell to try and keep Hjalmar from suffocating, sending the pair smashing through the glass doors and onto the balcony.

Dropping Hjalmar to the floor unconscious, O'Dimm raised a palm to Triss who shot backwards with incredible force as though unseen ropes were pulling her. Instead of colliding with the wall her back smashed into the soft flesh of Eskel's stomach as he as leapt behind her, taking the force of the impact as they hit the wall. The Witcher crumbled to the floor with the Sorceress still in his arms.

As Zoltan hacked at the figure with his axe the man of Glass caught the blade in his hand and jerked it upwards, sending the dwarf on the other end flying into the sky with a shout, barely managing to grab onto the chandelier, his weapon clattering to the floor at the man's feet.

Overcoming the pain burning in his stomach Geralt ran at O'Dimm again, trying to block out the sight of bodies littering the floor around him like corpses on a battlefield. All of a sudden his vision was filled with searing red light as the stone floor around him became suddenly scorched and burnt, black chains springing from the ground, wrapping themselves around the Witcher's wrists, chests and legs, holding him in place like a chained animal as he thrashed about recklessly but to no avail, the metal digging painfully into his skin.

When he looked up Master Mirror was gone and he madly tried to search for the figure. Just to his right, he caught the man smiling sadistically at him, eyes brimming with pleasure, with an intensity to match the fires of hell as he appeared behind Yennefer, roughly grabbing her left arm pulling it behind her. There was a loud crack followed by a cry of involuntary pain as her arm was snapped, falling limply to her side as he let go, pushing her to the side where she landed on her broke bones screaming again, her face contorted with pain, her eyes losing focus.

"Hope is a dangerous thing." He said softly, as he strode casually over to the sand timer still in the centre of the room, picking it up just as the last red grain filtered to the bottom. He threw it at Geralt's feet. "Something born from misery and desperation. Dangerous because often, it comes to less than nothing."

Geralt tried to speak, he wanted to plead, to beg, he wanted to believe there was still something left, clinging to the remnants of hope to ward of the claws of dread ensnaring him. He couldn't stand the screaming, the cries of pain, the sight of his stultified friends, the smell of blood. Blood which stained his hands.

"You will not die here today, Geralt, nor will those who stood with you." O'Dimm purposefully walked over to him, footsteps reverberating in the silence as the mages dared not to even breathe. "But remember, until such a day as I decide to end your mortal life, I will always be with you. I am your reflection, the figure you will see every time you look into Yennefer or Ciri's eyes, the shadow which follows you in your waking hours and the nightmare that haunts your unconscious mind. You will know suffering like no other." He reached a hand out for his face, and Geralt felt his skin burn under his touch, the pain spreading down his body, branding his soul with the symbol of death. "And reflections, Geralt, cannot be escaped. A reflection is eternal." He withdrew his hand, slowly backing away, the bones in his gaunt face as sharp as his yellow eyes which seemed to see something beyond the man struggling before him.

O'Dimm spread his arms wide before gradually bringing his hands together, the final round of applause for his performance. But he stopped, palms inches apart, his written conclusion denied by a voice which rang in the eerie silence. The voice was soft and quiet but seemed to radiate cold determination which filled Geralt's heart with ineffable fear as the implication of their words sunk in like a pebble plummeting to the bottom of a frozen lake. Indescribable horror at the thought of what his debt could cost him.

"I offer my Soul for Geralt's freedom."

The Bloody Chamber and other short stories by Angela Carter-Chapter 13: Sacrifice

"in his innocence he never knew he might be the death of me, although I knew from the moment I saw him."

Notes:

Hey guys hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, at last, some answers but unfortunately no peace for Geralt but yet another excruciating cliff-hanger (sorry!). O'Dimm opens up so many possibilities, the epitome of creative freedom, and I'm having a lot of fun creating my interpretation of this devilish character.

As always feel free to PM me your thoughts or leave a comment, I love hearing from you. My thanks to vic-of-thor and daisyofgalaxy11 (Tumblr) for all the kind words and support and to korbel05 (Fanfiction) for all the feedback and suggestions.

Until next time guys, have a great week – Eileniessa