"So what do we do now that you've pissed it off?" Yennefer said, scowling in the witcher's direction.
"The bannick's taken on a physical form, we'll need to find him. And where's my fucking sword?!"
The steam rapidly filled the room to the point where neither of them could even see their hands in front of their faces, much less look for a creature that did not want to be seen.
Yennefer reached out and recited an incantation. The steam was all forced from the room in one go, shattering a window on its way out.
"There!" Yennefer shouted, pointing at Geralt's gear set in a neat pile beside the dining table across the room from the bed. Geralt ran for it, barely skirting around the chairs placed nearby. The steam returned moments later, filling the room even faster than before.
"Geralt?" Yennefer called blindly into the sudden silence of the room.
"Stay back, I don't want to hit you. And keep away from the bath," Geralt responded from somewhere to her left.
"You're going to swing blind?!" Yennefer cried, exasperated.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Of course I have a better idea! I'll keep clearing the room until you've either killed it, or I run out of chaos." Yennefer backed up until she could feel the cabin wall behind her. She recited the incantation again and the room cleared.
Geralt was holding his sword in both hands, his eyes darting about the room in search of the creature. This time the steam returned in seconds.
"Did you see it?" Geralt called out.
"No, I couldn't find any sign of it. Get ready, you'll probably only have a second to look this time."
Geralt's response was a surprised cry of pain.
"Geralt?!" Yennefer quickly cast the banishment for a third time. The steam rushed out to reveal Geralt, still holding the sword, but now on one knee. The witcher was bleeding from three long gashes across his chest.
"No…" Yennefer whispered. She tore her eyes away from the sight, knowing they had precious little time to find the monster before it slashed them both to ribbons. A small patch of red caught her eye; there was a puddle of blood forming between herself and Geralt from some invisible source—no, not invisible. She looked up.
"It's in the rafters!" she cried. She saw Geralt look up just as the steam returned, blocking out all light. She threw out her hand and aimed a petrification spell where she could only hope the thing would land. She heard an inhuman shriek and a grunt of effort, then silence.
"Geralt?" she could already feel tears pricking at her eyes. "Damn it!" She banished the steam once more.
It was like staring at a sculpture of a combat scene. Geralt was still on one knee, his sword held up in both hands above his bowed head. The bannick was frozen in midair, impaled on Geralt's sword. One bloody, clawed hand hovered inches from Geralt's face. For a long moment, neither moved. Then the witcher looked up and released the breath that he had been holding. He pulled his sword free and rolled rather awkwardly out from under the petrified creature. He stood, looked back at Yennefer, and smiled.
"Well done," he said, as if commenting on a particularly good stew. He beheaded the bannick in one swift motion. Yennefer released the enchantment, and the bannick fell to the floor in a bloody heap. Both she and Geralt stared at it a moment longer. Then,
"Fuck, that was close," Geralt said, one hand absently reaching for the wounds on his chest. He winced and pulled his hand away, staring at it in surprise. "Oh, shit," he muttered, watching the blood drip from his fingers. The wounds were clearly a lot worse than he had thought. He dropped the sword and pressed his hand against his chest again in a feeble effort to stem the heavy bleeding.
"F-Fuck," he gasped, his other hand now pressed against his abdomen. He swayed on his feet. "Y-Yen…"
"I've got you," Yennefer said. She rushed over and half-carried, half-dragged him onto the bed. She grabbed a piece of cloth from a pile of clean linens next to the bed and pressed it into his wounds.
"Ahh, fuck, that hurts," Geralt protested, one bloodied hand gripping at the bed sheet, the other still held protectively around his belly.
"No surprise there, you almost got yourself killed. If I hadn't petrified it—"
"Yes, yes, I could have died. Do I at least get some credit for stabbing the damned thing while it was in midair? Blind?"
Yennefer scoffed. "After I pointed it out to you!"
"I had a plan," Geralt growled.
"Did that involve you getting yourself and the baby torn to pieces by a fucking bathhouse spirit?! I mean, how fucking hard is it not to fucking say 'fuck'?!"
Geralt opened his mouth as if to respond, then clamped it shut, wincing in pain. Then, the tiniest hint of a smile appeared on his lips.
"Pretty fucking hard, as it turns out."
Yennefer sighed, guilt now creeping up. "Here, keep pressure on it," she said, pressing his hand into the cloth covering his wounds. She filled a large bowl on the bedside table with steaming water, then dug into her bag and pulled out a needle, catgut, and a small vial of Swallow potion.
"Drink this," she said, uncorking the vial.
"I'm fine, thanks," Geralt said.
Yennefer suppressed a growl of frustration. "Please don't fight me on this. You've already lost a lot of blood and you're going to need every bit of your strength to give birth."
"Yen, we have no idea what these potions could do to the baby. I can wait until after it is born. I'll drink whatever you want me to then."
Yennefer took a deep breath in through her nose, held, then released. Much as she loathed to admit it, he had a point. They really couldn't know what the effects would be.
"Fine."
Geralt lay remarkably still and quiet as Yennefer cleaned, stitched, and dressed his wounds, though she could see from his face that he was obviously in a great deal of pain. She was almost afraid to ask about the contractions at this point; how many had come and gone without comment as she had worked on his injuries?
"I'm sorry for getting upset," Yennefer said, breaking the silence that had shrouded them for the past half hour. "I was so sure that it was going to kill you—that it had killed you." She tied off the last of the bandages around his chest.
"I wouldn't have let that happen," Geralt murmured. He reached up and caressed a lock of Yennefer's hair. "Your baby's going to be so beautiful."
"I've not heard that line before." Yennefer leaned in and brushed her lips softly across Geralt's. She suddenly frowned, sitting back up. "Your lips are like ice."
"Mm...Kinky. Tell me more about my lips."
She resisted the urge to smack him. "I'm serious, Geralt. Do you feel cold?"
"I'm naked, my hair is wet, and there's a draught from the window you broke. Yes, I'm cold. Hold me?"
Yennefer rolled her eyes and grabbed the pile of clothes, tossing them beside him on the bed. "Get dressed before you catch a cold." She crossed the room and started a fire in the fireplace. Geralt pulled on the loose, white shirt and tied his wet hair out of his face.
"I'm not going to bother with pants," he called to Yennefer as she poked at the fire.
"Kinky," she called back. "Tell me more about your pants." Moments later she turned to see him curled up on his left side, both arms wrapped around his right thigh, holding it up.
"Geralt?"
"I tried to warn you," Geralt gasped.
"Warn me about what?!" Yennefer cried, rushing over. "Are—are you pushing?"
"Uhh…Maybe?" He took in a sharp breath and curled deeper around his belly. "Yes—Uhn!—Yes, I think so."
"In that position?"
"It felt…right?"
Geralt let go of his leg and slowly uncurled until he was fully relaxed on his back. "I'm pretty sure that didn't do anything," he mumbled.
"I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I need to check you," Yennefer said.
"Hm?" Geralt grunted, not even bothering to look at her.
"I said I need to check you. We're not even sure if you should be pushing yet."
Golden eyes fluttered open and narrowed in Yennefer's direction. "It felt like I should push, so I did."
"I understand that. Now bend your knees for me." She began scrubbing her hands in a fresh bowl of steaming water.
Geralt sighed in frustration but obeyed, dragging his heels up as close to his buttocks as he comfortably could. Yennefer's warm hands were suddenly on his knees, gently pressing them apart. Geralt turned his head to the side, grimacing at the indignity of it.
"I know, Geralt. I'm sorry. This is going to feel a little uncomfortable."
Geralt nodded curtly, eyes still locked on the wall on the other side of the room. He gasped and arched his back at the sudden intrusion.
"Try not to squirm," Yennefer said, working quickly. "Okay, done." She turned to begin scrubbing her hands again as Geralt closed his legs and sat back up.
"Well?" he demanded.
"You shouldn't be pushing yet. Your body isn't ready. We're going to need to give it some more time," Yennefer explained, gently.
Geralt opened and closed his mouth a few times, glancing about the room as if he was searching for something. Then he suddenly began blinking rapidly, as if holding back tears.
"Hey, hey, come on now, it's all going to be okay, we just need to be patient." Yennefer quickly got behind him and began massaging his shoulders.
"Fuck patience," Geralt said, hoarsely, one hand reaching up to rub at his eyes. "This hurts, Yen. And it's exhausting. I just want it to be over, sooner rather than later."
"I know, I know," Yennefer whispered into his neck. "I know it's hard, but you've done so well so far. I don't want you to injure yourself or the baby by taking things too fast."
"It's a little too late to be worrying about injuring myself," Geralt grumbled.
Yennefer did not respond, just continued to knead the tense muscle of Geralt's shoulders.
Just when it seemed like the excitement of the past hour was dying down and Geralt might finally get some goddamn peace, something solid struck the side of the cabin with a loud thunk! A very human string of curses began to ring out in an all-too-familiar tenor voice. Geralt turned and met Yennefer's eyes, both dreading the same thing, but neither sure if they were right.
Finally, Geralt rolled his eyes and called out loudly, "Jaskier?"
"Geralt?! Is that you? This invisible wall just broke my fucking nose!"
Geralt heaved a deep sigh.
"Fuck."