Warnings:

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

The Bloody Chamber and other short stories by Angela Carter

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

O'Dimm looked at the figure lying on the floor who had spoken, propping themselves up on one arm, their other dangling limply beside them, their face flushed with pain as they spoke, holding onto the remnants of consciousness, violet eyes blazing fiercely as Yennefer glared at the man striding over to her.

"You want to offer your soul to save this mutant?" Said O'Dimm with exaggerated astonishment, pointing at Geralt who was looking at the Sorceress with pleading eyes, but she avoided his gaze. "No, I must be mistaken, I must have misheard you, say it again, clearly please."

He smiled at her indifferently as she slowly and unsteadily got to her feet, biting her tongue to hold back her screams as her broken arm sent waves of pain through her body, but while her body was weak and fragile her spirit burned stronger than ever, eyes shining with passion and defiance. It filled Geralt with fear.

"I wish to make a deal with you Master Mirror," Said Yennefer confidently, trying to concentrate on her breathing as she expostulated with the figure looking at her with undeniable interest, and excitement, "I offer my soul in exchange for Geralt's, to clear his debt, to end this suffering." She cast her eyes over to Ciri, who was still frozen to the spot, her eyes fixed on Yennefer, wide with shock. "To save my family, and our friends."

"You do realize Lady Yennefer, that it is his grave mistake that has caused all this suffering, yet you ask to take his place, to suffer for eternity. You must explain to me why you would do such a thing, if you can." Said O'Dimm, standing right in front of her, fingers together his previous anger giving way to his usual calm state, his desire giving way to his love for deals. The colour began to return to his skin, the pulsating black veins covering his body faded away, his features became more commonplace, less gaunt, his eyes turned from yellow to brown. Once again he looked like an ordinary, unassuming merchant.

"Geralt once gave his soul in exchange for my freedom," said the Sorceress calmly, tossing her head of raven locks, "because he loves me, just as I love him." Master Mirror sighed dramatically, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arms as he stepped back, looking between Yennefer and Geralt.

"Ahhhh, of course, love." He said with a fake tone of sweetness, smiling with amusement as he strode over to the Witcher, taking the wolf medallion from around his neck, tutting at Geralt as he tried to struggle out of the bounds, to pounce on him like a wild animal, fury turning his eyes animalistic. "The drug of madness. What else, but love, could possibly make one do something as stupid and dangerous as this." He took one of the torches from the wall and stood in between the pair, in plain sight of both as he bought the flaming torch up to the medallion, engulfing it in fire.

Dark, pitiless eyes upon Geralt, O'Dimm smiled happily, studying his features, satisfying himself with the Witcher's guilt as Yennefer fell to her knees screaming in pain, her good arm clutching her head as incomprehensible pain drilled through her skull like maggots and worms festering in a carcass. After a few seconds he extinguished the torch, throwing it to the floor and placing the medallion back over Geralt's head as he watched Yennefer gasp for air, hair tumbling over her face, obscuring her torment from him as she fought back the unshed tears stinging her eyes so that when she raised her head again her features were once again comported obdurately, violet eyes glaring like lightning.

"That pain is but one way your soul will suffer in my domain for eternity if you make this deal." Said O'Dimm softly as he crouched beside the Sorceress who held her head high in the air, unable to stand. "Do you still wish to go ahead with your proposition, it's not too late, I'm feeling generous today."

"Yes." She answered clearly, her voice sharp but he just laughed.

"Must by love." Said the merchant wistfully, rising to his feet and clapping his hands. Yennefer felt her broken arm snap back together and strength seep into her weary bones as her breathing and heart slowed, she would have sighed with relief but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "You are remarkably stubborn my dear," he said as she ignored the hand he offered to help her up, "that might have benefited you when dealing with Vilgefortz, but I promise you that, unlike him, I will break you. You understand that don't you?" She sneered at his patronizing expression, standing with her hands on her hips as though purchasing a mirror from any ordinary merchant.

"Yes, just as you understand perfectly well that you're not dealing with a blind village idiot who can't see the wood for the trees. So, stop asking questions you know the answer to, your tediousness is unflattering." She snapped at him, pleased to see his smile falter for a second before he bowed mockingly to her.

"Of course, Lady Yennefer. Until we settle on an agreement, however, there is one more complication to overcome." Said O'Dimm backing away from her and standing beside Geralt whose face was shining with sweat as he desperately tried to free himself, but the chains only clanked around him, tightening around him as though he was battling quicksand. He couldn't even call out to her, to ask her to stop, to plead, to beg. He was quickly sinking into utter desolation. "Why should I accept your deal? I do not crave your suffering, but the Witcher's, so why would I give up his soul?"

"Precisely because you'll get what you desire." Answered Yennefer pretentiously, gracefully walking over to him, staring into his yellow devilish eyes, avoiding everyone and everything else, focusing on her goal. "You intended to force Geralt to watch us die, slowly, one by one, to cause him pain, a pain you cannot inflict in his immortal life. I offer you something better. Take my soul, and you will force him to live the rest of his life knowing that someone he loves faces eternal pain. Pain which he will never be able to cure. Pain which will not end with his or my death. That burden is more harrowing than seeing death in the mirror." O'Dimm was silent, walking up and down, his fingers together, contemplating her words.

"Hmmm, a compelling argument." He said after several moments, standing in front of her, running his hand over the leather strap of the satchel slung across his chest. "It really is very hard to decide. To give Geralt a sense of hope, or hopelessness. Two equally dangerous and harmful states of mind. One final question Lady Yennefer, if you would please indulge my curiosity, this conversation is truly riveting, fascinating to say the least. A chance to understand you mortals better. I ask, what makes your suffering more painful than his own? You offer your soul, intent on following this self-destructive path because of the love you have for this man, I ask, does this extend both ways."

For a moment Yennefer seemed to smile sadly as she looked down at her left hand, and O'Dimm's smile widened. He saw it, of course. He understood perfectly well, but he enjoyed making a spectacle. He wanted her to say the words, to reveal the secret, a final act to make this tragedy rich with pathos.

"Yes," she said softly, "and the proof of his love is in the promises we've made." She raised her left hand to Master Mirror's eyes, muttering a spell which made her fingers shine like diamonds, and the figure gently took her hand, satisfied.

The room was silent, its two occupancies absorbed in their own thoughts, apprehensive to share their worries, searching for the words to do so.

Geralt perched on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window and over their estate now bathed in gentle moonlight, trying to clear his mind as the potions finally filtered from his body. He sighed. He'd never spent so much time away from the path, without a defining purpose to drive him forwards, without a goal to distract him from the worries plaguing his mind:

What if he hurt her, ruined what they had somehow? Could their peace last undisturbed? Could he give her what she wanted, what she needed? What if someone was trying to find him, to get him? A vampire perhaps? She could be at risk. Was he tying her down like a weight? Would she rather be in the court, with Ciri? He sighed.

Yennefer's warm magic washed over him as she sat on the bed behind him, fingertips brushing against the wound on his shoulder as she slowly began to heal it, her eyes absently minded tracing the scars on his arms and back. She sighed. She's never spent so much time away from the court, without a defining purpose to drive her forwards, without a goal to distract her from the worries plaguing her mind:

Could she do this? Had she really changed, or was she going to hurt him? Were things too good to be true? Could she fulfill his desires and his needs? What if someone was searching for her? A mage, perhaps? He could be at risk. Was she forcing him to be something he's not? Would he rather be with another? She sighed.

After several moments, when the Witcher's wound had been bandaged, the silence still an unbroken seal, Geralt took Yennefer's hand as he turned around, they looked at each other, they understood, and they embraced. The warmth of their bodies, their touch, their scent, drowning their worries with passion. The words came easily after that.

"Yen, I'm sorry I took the contract, and that I turned-down your help." Said Geralt softly, arms wrapped around her waist as she ran her fingers delicately over his bare arms. Then he sighed. "But after what happened last week-"

"Listen to me Geralt because I am getting bored of repeating myself," interrupted Yennefer gripping his jaw with her left hand and turning his gaze to her, "the attack on the vineyard wasn't your fault, nor was the fact that I got sick and delirious. It was my choice to risk that spell because I'm not some precious, petty Toussaint damsel who's made of glass and needs to be locked away and guarded because she's incapable of being, in any sense of the word, independent. Even if you hadn't agreed that wouldn't have stopped me so, would you kindly stop wallowing in this foolish misery."

He didn't comment. Instead, he continued to look at her as she sighed deeply her hand falling from his face as she rested her head against his chest, burying herself under his chin.

"I understand, Geralt." She said more softly, placing one of her hands over the arms wrapped around her. "You shouldn't have to apologise for looking after me." There was another short silence.

"It pains me to see you worried and upset like this, because of me, Yen. Because of who I am." He brushed aside some of the hair covering her face, placing a warm hand against the side of her face. "I'm worried I'll hurt you, that I'll ruin the peace we have, forever." Said the Witcher guiltily, afraid to look at his reflection in her violet eyes.

"You could never hurt me, Geralt, because I know you love me too much to do so, and because I love the man you are too much to be hurt by you, never forget nor dare to doubt that." She purred, placing her small hand over his, leaning into his touch. "This is why I'm concerned for you just as you are for me, because," Yennefer hesitated for a moment, swallowing the fear as she watched her fingers tracing the Witcher's arms, finding one scar after the other, "because I'm afraid I'll lose you."

Gently Geralt took the hand hovering nervously over his scars and pulled into onto his chest, the gesture turning her gaze to his face as he brushed thumb affectionately over her cheek smiling at her warmly, kissing her lips and resting his forehead against her head.

"You'll never lose me, Yen." He said softly, placing a finger on her lips as she tried to speak, eyes still lingering on her face, her eyes, as he reached over to the bedside table, opening one of the drawers and removing something from it. As he leant back into the Enchantress' warmth she saw a small black box in his hands. "Yen, will you take this as a promise, that I won't ever leave you, that you'll never be alone. A promise that I'll love you, forever." When he opened the box she gasped, eyes wide with surprise, Geralt smiled. "Yen, will you marry me?"

"Oh heavens, Geralt…" Yennefer said quietly, staring at the beautiful diamond encased in a silver star, two smaller diamonds embedded in the band on either side and next to them a small amethyst as violet as her dazzling eyes and a small pearl as black as her shimmering locks. "I…" She looked up from the ring at his beaming face, at the nervousness flashing in his eyes as he held out his heart on his sleeve, clutching the box tightly. She melted.

Yennefer flung her arms around his neck as she kissed him passionately, taking him by surprise. Geralt chuckled as she pulled away, flushing slightly, alarmed with her own certainty as she uttered an answer she once thought unachievable.

"Oh Geralt, Yes." He sighed in relief. The Witcher pulled the ring from the box and took Yennefer's left hand, carefully slipping it onto her finger

"I love you, Yen." Said Geralt softly, kissing her hand.

"And I you. So, let me love you." Purred the Sorceress, slowly pushing him down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around his fiancé, smiling.

After a while, as the couple lay down in their bed, bodies entwined under warm covers, they held each other in silence, but this time lost in happy thoughts, the touch of their skin, their warmth, their smell, washing away worries as they stared at the ring on Yennefer's hand, placed lightly on Geralt's chest. It was a strange sight, a strange thought, the impossible made possible. Which is why it felt so right. As the Witcher was drifting off to sleep, his raven-haired beauty whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Geralt. I accept this ring by making a promise, that I've chosen to be with the man you are and that I promise to love you, no matter what…"

As the concealment charm covering Yennefer's hand lifted, the gems on her engagement ring sparkled in the light and she looked at it wistfully, absorbed in memories, as O'Dimm gently took her hand inspecting the ring as though this was the first time he'd seen it, and smiled at her, but it wasn't a happy or sympathetic gesture, it was a triumphant one.

"Geralt I must commend you on your taste, this ring is truly exquisite, a wonderful match for so beautiful a Lady. You've outdone yourself." He said cheerfully, looking at the Witcher who was still trying to catch the Yennefer's eyes, but to no avail.

"Let's get to the point, Master Mirror." Said the Sorceress coldly, taking back her hand and folding her arms. "Do we have a deal?"

The merchant turned his back on her, hand under his chin, his features acquiring a sense of deliberate contemplation as the room's face contracted into a brow of woe, the mages and the fallen listening attentively, captivated by the charm of his words, frozen in fascinated horror like a child witnessing death for the first time.

Philippa was still stumbling around in the soup bowl, splashing Dorregaray who was trying to pull the arrow from Ves's shoulder, carefully cutting his way through the arrow tip which has melted into the wall, Roche lying at her feet, passing her cloth to hold to her bleeding wound, his legs still stuck together.

Ciri's bones were still filled with an unnatural cold that locked them in place, cold air swirling around her as her panicked eyes darted around the room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to call on her power, but her blood was frozen cold with fear.

Rita was holding Keira in her arms, trying to comfort the Sorceress as she clutched at her burning eyes, small embers wriggling through her fingers, fire scorching her throat so she couldn't even scream.

Several small stones tumbled down the stack of rock encasing Lambert as he tried to force his way back to the light, using his legs, fists, and signs to escape from his tomb. But the stones were piled high, as he fumbled in the dark.

Hjalmar was still lying on the floor in an unceremonious heap, completely unconscious, like a hibernating bear. Cerys and Ermion were trying to pick the glass from their body, the shattered fragments of the glass door eerily reflecting the moonlight, splintering its rays.

Triss was leaning over Eskel, holding his head in her hands, frantically muttering spells as the Witcher's eyes came in and out of focus, blood dripping from the back of his head as he sat slumped up against the wall.

Dandelion and Priscilla were holding a sheet out underneath the chandelier that Zoltan was still swinging on, staring up at the ceiling, refusing to listen to his friends pleads as he hung on stubbornly.

As O'Dimm walked, each footstep seemed to make the world around Geralt shake, the sound beating against his skull as fiercely as his own pounding heart. Blood was dripping from his skin, the stench of burnt flesh filling his nostrils as he continued to pull against the black chains holding him in place, slowly depriving him of hope, draining him of everything but pain. His body was consumed with anger and despair. His blood boiled burning his muscles which were screaming for release, to crush the life out of O'Dimm with his bare hands, his eyes glowing with hatred, but his heart was frozen solid ready to shatter at a single word. When his tormentor opened his mouth all he could do was pray.

"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, you offer your soul in exchange for Sir Geralt of Rivia's, to clear his debt." Master Mirror turned to the Sorceress, calmly walking over to her, smiling pleasantly, his face unassuming as he offered out his hand. "I accept."

The time and space around them flowed like thick honey from a jar. Each movement, each breath, each heartbeat excruciatingly slow, as the moment seemed to stretch into eternity, every detail amplified so that nothing would go unmissed.

Yennefer stared at the hand outstretched before her, ready to seal the deal, face indifferent to her bittersweet victory. Slowly she turned her head to Geralt and Ciri, trying to force a smile, but it was tinged with sadness, her eyes, full of cold determination, were glistening with tears of joy, fear, and anguish as she looked at their sorrowful faces. Her voice did not quiver as she spoke, holding its usual melodic, sarcastic and mischievous charm, it was strong but reserved. They watched as her lips moved, forming a farewell, it seemed distant, final, it was hard to comprehend.

"Farewell Ciri, my daughter, Geralt, my love. Please, forgive me, understand that I love you both, forever."

She forced herself away from their gazes and looked into O'Dimm's unnatural eyes, juxtaposed with his happy, commonplace face as he smiled at her. Yennefer lifted up her right arm as though wading through water, her delicate hand grasping his rough paw. Gaunter O'Dimm smiled at the Witcher. They shook.

Geralt's body became starved of hope, he was suffocating, there was nothing else left to keep him breathing as their words shot through him like daggers, shattering his heart as though it were made of glass, breaking it into thousands of tiny pieces which made his soul bleed, for his heart was lost.

As their hands touched her body shimmered in the light, her ruffled shirt and leather trousers replaced by her beautiful dress, hair tumbling neatly around her, once again Geralt's stunning fairy-tale Princess, the woman of his dreams, before that dream had contorted into this nightmare.

Then, on the back of her right hand, still locked with the merchant's, Yennefer's skin began to burn, its smooth surface marked with a hideous brand carved into her flesh, a rune which severed her soul from her body. The demon nodded at Geralt and departed with his prize.

Her body crumbled like the withered rose of a long-lost love, petals drained of colour and life, fierce violet eyes dulled and glossy as she fell backwards, hand still outstretched as she was released from his grip as slowly their guardian angel plummeted from the heavens, her empty vessel cold and stiff, deprived of more than just life, her body hit the floor with a soft thud, a doll discarded now the fun was over, completely lifeless.

Geralt searched through the silence. Desperately he sought for her. Strained his ears to listen for her presence. To the rhythmic melody which calmed him. He didn't realise how much he needed it, how much he missed it because now there was a void. Her heart was still. Her presence was gone. Her body was empty, deprived. Yennefer was dead. Worse than dead. She had died from a promise, a promise to love him forever. Silence reigned eternally.

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe, Chapter 14: Grief

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Notes:

Please don't hate me… :'(

PS: Sorry this is update is a couple hours later than usual, got back later than expected.