Shadow and Light

by MyFallWillBeForYou.86

Geralt's love life has always been a mess. Bouncing from sorceress to sorceress, he always ends up alone after being used in their schemes and discarded. Jaded from so many failures, he fights only for his daughter, but a mortal injury during the Battle of Kaer Morhen leaves him in the care of yet another sorceress, stuck in a foreign world where modesty has a different meaning.

67. The Royal Wedding I

A/N: The first part of the wedding ( 75% serious content and the rest is smut)

I marked the start of the smut as usual with XXX, but there are parts that bleed into the main plot so I couldn't separate them.

---

Breakfast brought together all the outworlders at one table.

"I heard you were looking for me yesterday," Akira opened the conversation.

"Don't remind me," Criss shook her head, remembering the ridiculous chase and how it ended. "By the way, I heard you decked someone in the middle of the inn. So much for not causing trouble."

"It was only one punch." She shrugged. "I couldn't help myself. He was running his mouth and I grew tired of hearing how I'd be better suited using my knife in the kitchen. Bedlam was lucky that he opened with an apology or he'd have found himself lying next to him."

"Instead, he found himself lying under you," Lyari said with a grin.

Akira showed her perfect teeth with a smug smile, her canines still appearing unusually sharp despite the illusion covering her appearance.

"He's the one who proposed that the loser serve at the winner's disposal. If he wanted to be on top, he should have worked harder to win our match."

"I'm not sure that's how he envisioned serving."

"He certainly didn't mind," Akira said with that same smugness.

"I heard. All of Putrid Grove heard," Criss said with an eye roll. "Anyway, I'm glad all of you found something – or someone – nice to do while you're here."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Lyari sighed.

"What, things aren't going well with Red?" Olir elbowed him and nodded to the staircase.

The elf grimaced at seeing Triss descend. "Fuck," he grunted. "She's… umm… how to say this… too clingy. We barely spent a day together and she's talking about moving together in her house in Kovir. She won't let me out of her sight. Fucking lucky this royal wedding has a strict guest list or she'd have dragged me there too. An evening away from her will be a welcome breather."

His expression abruptly changed into a honeyed smile as he turned to Triss.

"Oh, there's my lovely dove! I didn't want to wake you, darling. We were just deciding what to do while the wedding was in full swing. I'll have such a wretched time without you here," he said with a pout.

The rest exchanged knowing looks.

"How long before you have to go to the festivities?" Lyari asked with the same feigned disappointment.

"Not until evening, darling, so I'll be keeping you company a while longer."

For a fraction of a second, Lyari's jaw clenched but then his smile bloomed once more.

"We'd better make the most of it," he said, patting the seat beside him but Triss remained standing.

"I'll be with you just as soon as I sort this out," she replied with a shake of her head, raising a small wooden box. "Yenna has taken some liberties with my jewellery and I'm missing the central stone in the necklace I want to wear tonight. Luckily, it's nothing a quick trip to the jewellers can't fix." She lovingly caressed his cheek. "Save me a seat," she said before heading for the exit.

No sooner than she was out the door, Lyari loudly exhaled.

"See what I have to deal with?"

"She looks quite starry-eyed, poor thing," Akira said, feigning a pout similar to Lyari's.

"Oh, by the Elements! However will you deal with yet another woman fawning over you?" Olir said with an eye roll. "You complain too much, blondie. It's not like anyone pushed her on you. You were happy enough to dive into her cleavage a couple of days ago and I'm pretty sure you told her some tall ones. You usually do."

"I can't rightly open with 'I'd like to see you naked but can't promise I'll want to see you again after that'. Yennefer understood. I thought her friend would too."

"Under different circumstances, she might have understood but I think you caught her at a particularly vulnerable time."

"Meaning?"

"She had a bit of a meltdown recently because everyone's either getting together or getting married," Criss explained.

"I really need to start picking them better," the elf sighed. "But one part of that wasn't a lie. I do need to find something to do while she's away. Preferably something fun."

It was the orc's turn to sigh. "I know I'm probably going to regret this later but… If you want you can join me for the final rounds of the Gwent tournament tonight."

"That little card game they have here? No offence, but I think I'll pass. It isn't exactly thrilling to watch."

"Suit yourself. I just thought you might enjoy the setting. It's being held at the Passiflora, if you've heard of it," Olir waved him off with a sly smile. "It's only the biggest brothel this city has."

"Biggest?" Lyari's eyebrows nearly met his hairline in a comical display of enthusiasm.

"And best," Criss added with a wry smile.

"Mhm, but if you think it's boring –"

"No, no, no! I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't show up to cheer you on?"

The other three just shook their heads and laughed. Not that anyone would ever accuse Lyari of not being there for his friends – he definitely showed up when he was needed – but all of them doubted he'd spend more than five minutes by Olir's side once they were at the Passiflora.

"Alright, so you two are settled for tonight. What about you?" Criss asked turning to Akira. "Going back to the Grove?"

"Nah. Bedlam was fun but you know I'm not the sort to chase after anyone. If he wants seconds, I'll be right here with your man's daughter."

"So you and Ciri hit it off?"

"We've been swapping knife moves. Says her dad showed her most of them. Speaking of which, where is your silver fox?" Akira asked with her signature grin.

"With Lambert, as far as I know. He wasn't very specific, but he also mentioned a jeweller, so I think I have an idea of what they're up to."

---

A few hours passed and Geralt still hadn't returned. It was growing late - much later than she felt comfortable - so she started getting herself ready for the wedding ceremony, both to keep busy and because otherwise, she'd never be ready in time. For him, preparations meant a bath, a shave and a change of clothes - maybe less than an hour. For her, it was a whole endeavour to work her hair into shape without the proper tools. She sighed in front of the mirror, giving up on curling it with the iron Dandelion lent her. Aside from burning off the points of her fingers, she hadn't accomplished anything else and decided it was better suited as a medieval torture device.

She was braiding small strands of hair and weaving them around the neat low bun at her nape when the door swung open.

"Finally! I was worried you weren't –" She stopped in her tracks when she turned to see a haggard-looking Geralt.

"Sorry, I know it's late," he replied, crossing the room hurriedly to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"You look like you went to hell and back," she said, her brows drawing together. "What happened?"

"Turns out Percival Schuttenbach closed shop in Novigrad due to… an incident ," he said, peeling off his gloves then working on the clasps of his armour. "He left word that he relocated to Mount Carbon. Had to track him down because Lambert, being Lambert - meaning a stubborn arse - decided he needed to have the ring today. So I called in a favour with Philippa to portal us there."

"Why Philippa?"

"Who else?" He shrugged. "Can't ask Yen with Istredd around. And besides, Philippa really owes me after that shit with Radovid. Her and her gargoyles –" He sighed in exasperation. "Nevermind. She portalled us but we still spent two hours tracking down the exact address for the new shop, then a couple more until Lambert decided on a ring. Then a bit more to have that sapphire shaped into the correct cut. And all this while, I had to endure Philippa's bullshit because of course she had opinions on everything even if she was there just to provide transport." He shed his armour and paused with a raised index. "I never thought I'd say this, but I was actually glad to cross back through a portal."

"So he's proposing tonight?" she asked while putting in the final bobby pin.

"Mhm. He wrangled Priscilla into it and everything." He sighed and shook his head, pulling off his boots. "I can't believe how much effort he's put in. I mean, it's Lambert . He can hardly be bothered on a good day but he went all out for this." He shook his head again. "I hope she says 'yes' for all the trouble he went through."

"She will," Criss said, getting up from the dressing table with a quiet swish of her silk robe.

With a simple gesture, she cast the spell that filled the wooden tub with water, then dipped her hand into it to heat it up.

---

XXX

---

"Thanks," he said, coming up behind her as she was straightening up.

His hands circled her as his lips caressed the length of her neck from collarbone to ear. A delighted moan escaped her as she turned to face him. Gold eyes met her dark ones. He smiled and pulled her robe undone, letting his gaze drift down.

"You think we have time for –?"

"You know we don't," she replied with a sigh and leant back from him.

She lazily stroked down his chest, with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. It really was such a shame that he was late. They could have had a bit of fun before the wedding, then a little more at the wedding.

"Now get in the tub before it's even later," she said, meeting his eyes again and stepping back reluctantly.

He sighed, climbing into the tub and letting the hot water soak him while she returned to the dressing table to continue her preparations without bothering to close back her robe.

Although they were short on time for the kind of sex they both enjoyed, some delays were worth it if only for building suspense, she thought with amusement as she finished with her makeup and began massaging a fragrant lotion into her skin. Unhurriedly, she rubbed slow circles over her arms and shoulders, pretending not to notice his gaze caressing her from head to toe. Only when she reached her cleavage did she raise her eyes to meet his.

Hypnotised was the only word that came to mind.

"You know… I could help with that," he said leaning forward, ready to get out of the water at the faintest sign from her.

"Oh, I'm sure you could. But… " She smiled as innocently as she could manage. "...you only get to watch, until we get to the wedding."

She tilted her head and let a few drops of lotion drip onto her chest, fully aware that the milky texture would invoke a dirty image in his mind - one whose charm she wasn't immune to, either. The idea of letting him spill over her chest and licking it off sent heat waves to her groin. Apparently, it had a similar effect on him because one of his hands dropped below the water surface and the rhythmic ripples that followed gave her a pretty good guess of what he was doing. Her smile turned less innocent as she spread the lotion over her breasts then dripped a little more, lower onto her stomach.

"Is this your way of making me excited to attend?"

She only tilted her head with the same smile and pushed the robe off her shoulders so it pooled at her feet in a soft pile. For a moment, she parted her legs, giving him a quick glimpse of the wetness that gathered between them, then crossed them again before massaging a leg from thigh to ankle. His eyes narrowed as he blinked catlike.

"If it is, then it's working," he said, letting a smile bloom on his lips. "I can't wait to get my hands on you." The ripples quickened.

"Mm, I can see that you can't keep your hands off yourself either," she hummed, moving to her other leg. "I didn't say you can touch yourself."

He raised a defiant eyebrow at her but, after a long-suffering sigh, the ripples stopped as he sank back into the water and proceeded to rinse his hair.

"Devious woman," he sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling while he washed but inevitably his gaze returned to her. "You know you're making me so fucking frustrated right now."

"Good. I want you to be… starved ," she replied, drawing out the words to match her slow strides across the room to where she had hung her evening dress.

Her hand stroked over the dark burgundy fabric. It was exquisite work. The bodice was perfectly tailored to cinch any waist and the rhinestone embellishments on it organically spread over the heavy skirt, creating a starscape. The model was entirely Elihal's idea, her only request being the two slits down the sides.

"Love…" Geralt said hesitantly as she began to dress. "I believe you forgot something…"

"Oh? What did I forget?" Amusement tugged a corner of her lips up - she already knew what he was about to say.

"I'm no expert in women's fashion but aside from the fact that usually that kind of gown is worn with an inner dress, you seem to have also forgotten your undergarments."

A full-blown smile took over her face. "I didn't forget. I just don't plan on wearing any."

His eyes widened and his hands gripped the edge of the tub so hard that the wood creaked.

"Oh, love, you're going to be the death of me," he said, getting out of the tub.

Her eyes followed the water that dripped off him in rivulets that curved and beaded over scars, muscles and… a very firm erection. She smiled wickedly as he covered the distance between them in a few strides and kissed her. It was the sort of kiss that left her breathless - nothing but pure passion while his hands already roamed, finding their way through the slits in her skirt to grasp her ass and caress her inner thigh.

"You're getting my dress all wet," she bemoaned between rough kisses.

"Mhm, that's not all that's getting wet," he said smugly, his fingers already drifting through the slick between her legs. "You're very bold to want to go like this."

His index beckoned back and forth over her clit as he slowed his kiss, turning it into nips on her lips.

"What if they decide to search us? You'll give a poor guard the biggest free show."

"Mhm, poor guard," she moaned, unable to pull away from his hands. "They wouldn't dare."

He laughed against her lips. "You'd be surprised."

"Then I'll – fuck! – figure something out – damn! " she moaned with closed eyes.

It was getting harder and harder to think when his touch was so delicious. She had to use every ounce of willpower to pull back from him, rearranging her skirt to cover herself.

"Consider this a preview, though what I have planned will be much much better," she said to mitigate his visible disappointment.

"This was one hell of a preview." He clenched his jaw, giving her another thirsty look. "Can't wait for the rest."

"So hurry up and get dressed, we have a wedding to get to."

"Not sure I can walk right now," he sighed, sweeping his eyes down her body. "Can't leave me like this. You have to give me a little something, love."

She trailed her fingers down his length with a demure smile. It was a bit heartless of her to leave him hard and walk away.

"You know what they say, good things are worth the wait… or something to that effect," she said in a sweet voice, withdrawing her hand. "I'll be waiting downstairs."

---

Despite Geralt's late arrival, they joined the rest right on time. Yennefer had arranged transportation for all of them - two beautiful carriages waited for them out front. Geralt, Criss, Yennefer and Istredd occupied the first, while Triss, Margarita and Philippa got into the second.

Criss watched the city through the curtained windows of the carriage as it made its way through streets crowded with boisterous residents, some of whom were already drunk before the official start of the festivities. Small stalls lined the streets, selling all sorts of drinks and food. Everyone was trying to make the best out of the event while small detachments of guards were watching over to keep the peace and making sure carriages transporting guests passed through without running anyone over. Thus, they advanced slowly, so she returned her attention to her date and her carriage-mates.

From the bench across, violet eyes skimmed over Geralt from his boots to his neatly tied-back hair.

"So you can be presentable when you wish to," she said, clinging possessively to Istredd's arm and smoothing over the white lace cuffs peaking from under his doublet.

Geralt threw her a look so sharp it might have cut glass but kept from replying. It couldn't have been easy for him to endure Yen's jabs and Criss admired his restraint.

"But I suppose she's to thank for this miracle taking place," Yen continued, turning to Criss with a calculated smile.

Always Yennefer teetered from warm to cold without warning or visible cause, Criss never knew which to expect or what to believe. Was this more posturing for Istredd's sake? Criss was tempted to read her mind.

"He's presentable whatever he wears," she deadpanned, hoping this would be the end of it.

"Oh, come now! That's such balderdash!" she laughed. "I suppose that next you'll tell me how wonderful drowner guts smell and how dried blood marks suit his complexion."

"Believe it or not, I don't mind those. You can wash off muck, but you can't rid yourself of a foul personality no matter how much you rinse, polish and dress it," Criss said with narrowed eyes.

A heavy silence followed as Yennefer returned her cold gaze. Maybe she should have kept quiet. That would have certainly been the diplomatic route but this wasn't the first time Yennefer used Geralt as a pincushion in her presence and she was sick of it.

"This is highly irregular," Istredd was the first one to break the silence, although none of them thought he did it for their benefit. He pointed a finger out his side of the window, visibly disturbed and slackjawed.

The rest of them followed his gaze and the display left them equally unsettled. Radovid's charred remains were placed just outside St. Gregory's Bridge. They had burnt the former king along with his crown; it was the only reason they knew it was him. The gilded steel had melted and dripped down in grotesque spikes. All the other pyres had been placed in Hierarch's Square and this was the only one that broke the rule. They all recognized a message when they saw one.

Istredd put into words what all of them were thinking.

"I hope that attending this wedding isn't a mistake if this is how they set the mood for it."

Their eyes were glued to the window as they travelled on but, once they were on the bridge, nothing looked amiss. The same type of happy crowd bustled between crowded stalls and in-and-out of buildings. Perhaps there were a few more guards, but that was to be expected in proximity to the wedding venue.

By the time they reached the upper gates of the Church, they had relaxed. They were still scouting the crowd but the loud rabble had been replaced by nobles in their silk hose and finery. Here and there a red-robed servant would weave around them, tending to horses and guiding the new arrivals toward the main entrance of the church.

Despite most carriages being stopped next to the entrance, theirs continued on, until it passed the long line of waiting guests. Envious looks were thrown their way as some pointed and huffed at the injustice of being made to wait. Others whispered and elbowed each other fearfully once they heard that the "esteemed mages" had arrived.

Both carriages stopped right next to the staircase that led to the Church's main entrance and all of the mages along with the witcher descended.

"At least it appears that we won't be made to wait in line like mere supplicants," Istredd continued being the only one among them to speak.

"And they're skipping the full-body search, too," Geralt added, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as he aimed a 'told you so' smile at Criss.

Guards were barring the smaller entrance in front of which the crowd of nobles was lined up, patting down each of them and confiscating what they deemed dangerous. A small pile of ornamental weapons steadily increased while the owners received promissory notes in exchange.

"I'd have liked to see them try," Yen huffed. "It's been a while since I've turned someone into a gust of malodorous air."

"I much prefer the classic toad polyform," Philippa chipped in, joining their little group. "And I am perfectly ready to make use of it after seeing that gauche display."

"Truly uninspired," Margarita agreed. "Seeing his just deserts spoiled my mood for dessert."

"Oh, let's not be hypocritical about it," Triss said. "We all wanted him dead and that display was partly for our benefit. Now we have proof that his reign is over and we can enjoy this wedding as the start of something new."

"You may be right. Still…" Margarita sighed, "I don't think I'll ever be able to pass by a pyre without a knot in my stomach forming. Even if it's Radovid's."

Whichever the intent had been, it seemed that only one of the invited mages appreciated seeing the late king's remains before dinner.

"Let's not tarry any longer," Phillipa said before turning with a swish of her heavy black-velvet dress. "Gawking at the rabble is unbefitting our status."

"I doubt there's any true rabble among the guests," Criss whispered as she hooked a hand around Geralt's arm and followed behind Philippa. "Those all look like nobles."

"That doesn't make much difference to Philippa. For her, there are mages and then there's everyone else. No in-between," Geralt replied.

"Not even kings get their own category?"

"Probably not. She's had a few assassinated over the years, so there's no extra deference when it comes to royalty."

She hummed in assent although that sort of attitude was unconscionable to her. The amount of hubris Philippa had was unmatched by anyone she had met. It was amazing that she agreed to let Triss become the new court mage.

They all headed for the grandiose staircase and, as they ascended the stairs behind the other mages, the guards lined down the steps and presented their arms in honour of their passing. It was a strange feeling to climb those stairs as an esteemed guest when last she had been there, they had been invaders conquering the king's last redoute. She shook the thought away and straightened her shoulders, while Geralt cast her a side glance.

"Having regrets?"

Nothing ever escaped him, least of which was her unease.

"Not exactly. But this pomp is beyond what I expected."

"That's a royal wedding for you."

"Still, getting a military salute… I think I'm getting imposter syndrome." She sighed. "I wish we were just regular guests."

"Mhm, but then you'd have to get searched… And neither of us would want that." He huffed a laugh.

"Hey, I might not be one to turn someone into a toad but I can be scary if I need to," she countered with a smile. "If anything, Yen and the rest were right, we're walking weapons. Pointless to search us for anything when a gesture and a few words can bring down lightning."

Their conversation quieted down as they reached the top and they were expected to pass through the now-open iron and dimeritium doors. A large swath of wall next to it was freshly painted and Criss recognized it for what it was - the trace of their assault on the Church.

Unease crept back in.

She tensed as she crossed the threshold into the antechamber. The memory of the blood splatter and burn marks on the walls flashed before her eyes though no physical evidence remained. The whole room had been freshly scrubbed and painted to hide traces of the battle. The whole way through to the large church sept had been thoroughly sanitized of all unpleasant memories. Instead, red-rose garlands winded festively around columns and framed door entrances.

The end of their journey brought another weird aftertaste. Ignoring the crowd of nobles and courtiers, she stared for a moment at the central floor mosaic depicting figures dancing around a blazing brazier. It was the place where Geralt had been lying in a puddle of his own blood just a few days ago. This whole place was oddly bitter-sweet - a place of suffering and vengeance - even more so for the future royals than for them. His fingers brushed softly over her arm, nudging her awareness back into the present.

"I hope they won't seat us right in front," he muttered as a servant ushered them forward.

To his misfortune, that was exactly where they were led - the front pews. Yen and the rest of the mages took their places with a natural grace that both of them struggled to mimic. On the other side of them sat important army commanders, judging by the medals decorating their doublets. Ves and Roche were on the other side of the aisle along with some Temerian nobles. Thaler was nowhere in sight, but aside from him, it looked like all the main conspirators were guests of honour.

For a while longer, guests poured in through the massive church doors, all taking stiff and self-important poses as they evaluated and compared their seats to those of their neighbours. None dared to argue for better placement but dissatisfied mumbles often followed from those further back. Some of them reached their ears. How this or that merchant was an upstart and not of noble lineage and should be further back. How that noble's family was impoverished and shouldn't even have been invited. Mostly petty squabbles but a few dared complain that it wasn't befitting to have non-believers so far in front and Criss wondered if that was their way of complaining about the privileged seats the mages held.

"Okay, I'm beginning to see why you're not a fan of these things," she whispered to him as hundreds of eyes followed and judged their every move. She smoothed a hand over the front of his doublet and curled the other around his arm. "But maybe the actual party will be a little less uptight."

"I think the evening's only highlight will be getting you all to myself." He leaned until his lips brushed the shell of her ear and continued. "If we were further back, I might have already made use of those slits in your dress. I think my hand would fit through them wonderfully."

"How bold!" She feigned an outraged gasp but the corners of her mouth lifted.

"Says the one wearing just a promise underneath that dress."

"Shh! Not so loud," she hushed him with wide eyes as Margarita caught her gaze with a raised eyebrow.

The former headmistress shook her head with an eye-roll and moved her attention to the main aisle. The attendants lined down each side as the whole room fell silent and a side entrance opened to let in a heavily overweight Eternal Fire priest with a gold sceptre he was using as a cane to help steady his gait. Behind him, more than a head taller, came Dijskstra. The Redanian spymaster looked dignified in a red cotehardie with silver chain detailing and buttons. He walked with the confidence of someone born into the position he was ascending through marriage.

"Hmm, so the rumours were true - Hemmelfart will be officiating," Geralt hummed beside her.

"He may have left the late king's trial for a lesser priest but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to have nobles and royals fawn over him," Margarita replied from his other side.

Once the two men reached the podium at the head of the sept, trumpets sounded once and all rose from their seats. Gentle harps began playing as the bride's cortege passed through the arched main entrance. Heads turned and some raised themselves on their toes just to be the first ones to see Blessed Queen Adda, as the people called her. Quiet murmurs of assent and awe rippled through the crowd once more laid eyes on the bride-to-be. Dressed in the same shade of red as Dijkstra, with silver chains adorning her supple neck and waist, she looked every bit the royal she was. A single bright ruby hung on the chain around her neck and Criss felt magic emanating from it. It must have been a charm, she decided after appraising it with narrowed eyes. Her attention returned to the Queen's face. With her fiery hair pinned up in an intricate weave, she walked proud, her striking green eyes glittering in the braziers' light. Behind her trailed the longest royal train Criss had ever seen. Attached to the Queen's shoulders, the royal Redanian eagle embroidered with silver thread over a heavy damask red background swept over the aisle.

Only when the Queen reached Dijkstra's side, did everyone sit.

"My fellow Redanians," the priest opened with a surprisingly deep voice, "and esteemed guests," he cast a glance at the mages then at the Temerians, "we've all joined in this holy place to witness the union of Adda the White –"

"Such an uninspired opening. It didn't occur to him that the Queen is Temerian?" Margarita muttered.

Geralt shrugged. "Better optics to skim over that fact."

"- and Sigismund Dijkstra. From this day forth, their flames will blaze as one, casting their warmth and radiance over the kingdom. Their light will pierce and shine over every crevice –"

"Especially up the hierarch's arse crack –" Margarita whispered to the two of them.

Criss snorted a laugh then quickly coughed to cover it, pressing a clenched fist to her lips.

"- they might need a bigger torch to reach up there," Geralt continued Margarita's thought and Criss had to bite her lip to keep from laughing again.

"- No shadows shall hide those who wish ill upon Redania and its subjects. Those who are black of heart will find no refuge –"

"Is this a wedding or a political speech?" Margarita grumbled.

" – within the confines of this city –"

Dijkstra coughed with a pointed look at the officiant.

" – or kingdom."

Although the Hierarch seemed prepared to continue his anti-Nilfgaard rant a while longer, his speech turned to the bride and groom's many virtues and how they cherished tradition and faith. After that preamble, he presented them with a long strip of red brocade. He lifted it for the gathering to see, then wrapped it around Adda and Dijkstra's joined hands.

"These are the hands of your closest companion, the ones that are young and strong and full of affection for you, which are clasping yours on your wedding day as you vow to love each other today, tomorrow and always.

"These are the hands that will work alongside yours as you create your - and this kingdom's - future together.

"These are the hands that will wipe away your tears time and time again, tears of sorrow and joy.

"These are the hands that will hold your children carefully, hands that will bind your family together.

"These are the hands that will provide you with strength when you need it, offer support and encouragement as you pursue your ambitions, and soothe you during challenging times.

"Furthermore, these are the hands that, even though bent and wrinkled, will still be reaching for yours, still conveying the same unspoken affection with a light touch."

"That speech would make for a nice wedding vow," Criss whispered.

"Fine," Geralt sighed, "I'll give him that. It wasn't bad."

"Together –" he raised their joined hands, "- you shall light this candle from the holy brazier of Eternal fire, signifying the union of your fates in perpetuity –"

"Oh, good, it's almost done," Margarita quipped once again.

The newlyweds lit the ceremonial candle and all stood again to clap and cheer. A few feathered caps were tossed in the air when the two kissed then the handfast was untangled.

"Let us rejoice!" The couple said in unison, turning to the crowd.

The cathedral's doors opened wide, inviting all of them to the sumptuous antechambers and courtyard while the sept was rearranged for the banquet. And so, the festivities began.

---

When they were ushered back in, the interior was fit for a party. At the head of the sept, the high table presided over two long rows of tables perpendicular to it. Flower arrangements and elaborate candelabra punctuated the layout of neat table settings while the church pews now lined the exterior of the tables. Sumptuous cushions marked the more important seats while the rest had to settle for the hard bench.

They took their place, close to the high table but remained standing just like everyone else.

"Why am I not surprised they're serving catoblepas?" Geralt said with a sigh as platters drifted by them. "I was hoping some things had changed since the last time I met Princess Adda."

" Queen ," Triss corrected him. "And not to worry, Geralt. Once my position is confirmed, I'll make sure she's not having anything less moral than catoblepas."

"So it's decided? You'll be the new royal advisor?" Criss asked. "No complaints from Philippa?" She threw a glance at the table across from them where Philippa, Yennefer and Istredd were standing.

"She's not enthused about it, but despite her personal ambitions, her highest priority is the furthering of our cause," Margarita replied from Criss's other side. "Insisting she be named would only create needless friction, given her past with Dijkstra. Why complicate things when Triss is better positioned? After all, Triss was Foltest's advisor."

"Mhm," Geralt agreed. "The queen has plenty to thank her for. Least of which is her current appearance, though it seems she's stuck with the moniker Adda the White."

"So you've heard about that?" Triss put on a smug smile.

"Of course. There were rumours when I was in Vizima and, when I recovered my memory, her appearance didn't match what I remembered." He saw Criss raise a questioning eyebrow so he added an explanation for her benefit. "The curse turned her hair white and left her… impaired. Mentally."

"I'd have never guessed."

"I know, right?" said Triss, her grin widening. "Although, she'll likely have to wear that inclusion necklace while she draws breath. Maybe even after that, just to be sure."

"That would be advisable," Geralt nodded. "It would also be advisable to reduce her catoblepas consumption. Wean her off it before it turns into something else."

"Duly noted. As I said, I'll keep an eye on her appetite," Triss said, turning her attention to the main doors. "Now hush and no more talk of her proclivities, for everyone's sake."

Royal attendants dressed in red and gold livery loudly tapped their standards against the marble floor and the murmurs in the hall fell silent. The royal couple was finally joining their guests.

With wide smiles, they came in hand in hand, stopping in the doorway for a moment while raucous guests cheered. Geralt never ceased to be amazed by how loud nobles could be. It was like a pageant of who was more supportive and enthusiastic, hoping their zeal would catch a royal eye and some boon would be beset upon them.

The couple basked in the display for a calculated moment as if not wanting to dismiss the guests' joy nor wallow in it for longer than was fitting.

When the cheers subsided, the newlyweds walked to the central seats at the high table and took the ceremonial chalice, each grabbing a handle. They raised it for all to see before they guided it to the Queen's lips. She took a deep drink and passed it to the King who drained the rest then raised it once more.

Everyone took up their cups, mirroring the royals and merry wishes cacophonously resounded while the couple approvingly smiled, their eyes gliding over the guests without stopping on anyone in particular.

"To good health and many children!"

"Long live the King and Queen!"

"To a prosperous and free Redania!"

"To a long and happy marriage!" Criss chimed in.

Once the royals sat, everyone else followed suit and the feast officially began.

"I've always wondered how attending a royal banquet would be," Criss whispered, sampling the fruit platters placed in front of them. "Is it true that they usually last for a week?"

"No, not a week, but three days are the norm," Geralt replied.

"This one will be over by tomorrow morning," Margarita said. "So I'm sorry to say that you've picked a poor one as your first."

"With the war and all, it was a good choice to restrain their spending. It looks bad to feast when your subjects are starving," Triss added.

"Mm," Margarita agreed. "Keira said they're eating dogs and dirt in Velen."

"They do… and much worse." Geralt nodded.

"Poor Keira," Triss sighed. "It must have been a nightmare living in that musty swamp. I wonder if she ever ate from their unsavoury menu." A malicious smile fluttered over her lips. "I'd wager she did. Probably bonded over eating rats with Lambert." Her smile turned into a grin and Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Oh, come now, Geralt. We all know your little rat story." Triss nudged him with an elbow. "How you stabbed it in the dark with a fork."

"Stabbed, yes. That doesn't mean I ate it afterwards," he said, throwing an embarrassed glance at Criss.

"Whatever you say." Triss shrugged dismissively.

"You know, just because you're salty Lambert dumped you doesn't give you the right to take it out on all witchers," he replied. "And anyway, don't you have a new elf toy to play with? I thought that would quench your ire for a while."

"He didn't dump me!" Green eyes flashed with anger before the sorceress restrained herself. "We agreed to part ways. Mutually ."

"Right…" Geralt drawled.

"You know, I'm beginning to understand Yenna's dislike for your… wit ."

Servants replacing the fruit platters with pottage bowls proved a welcome interruption. No sorceress wanted to be seen lose her temper over petty squabbles and Triss was no exception.

"Can't say I'm sorry to have fallen out of favour," he joked. "Makes things much simpler between us."

"On that we can agree."

On his other side, Criss sighed and shook her head. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"I feel right at home here," she said. "Your bickering reminds me of dinner with my family."

He huffed a laugh and dug a spoon into his bowl.

"Maybe after the first dance intermission we could switch places?" he asked Margarita.

She nodded. "Not a problem. I think it would be better for everyone's digestion to put a little distance between you and your past paramours."

---

As the first course got cleared from the table, the strums of a lure rang through the hall. Heads turned to seek the source and Geralt couldn't help a grin. At least there will be no songs about him tonight. Dandelion's rival, Valdo Marx was standing at the other end of the hall, decked out in his best silks, his feathered cap leaning to the side. He opened with one of his wedding classics and guests began to rise and head for the dance floor.

"Permit me, milady?" Geralt asked, standing and offering her his arm.

She accepted with a broad smile although a big part of her was dreading the dance to come but fearing to complain. After all, this was her doing. Her insistence to attend. Her wish to dance and experience a royal wedding. But the pressure and the eyes on them reached into her chest and squeezed her heart in a vice. She'd better not trip. She'd better not fall over –

"Hey," he soothed, tightening his grip to anchor her, "I got you."

She nodded tightly and with a deep breath, she took the first stance, keeping her eyes on her feet as they began to dance.

Five steps in, her heart thrummed like mad when she almost skipped a move. She had been mad to do this. She hated the attention. Why had she insisted? They could have had a quiet night to themselves, could have had a drink at the inn, listening to Priscilla singing. A finger brushed under her chin, tipping it up.

"Keep your eyes on me and no one else."

A warm smile followed his words and somehow everything fell into place. The world shrunk to fit only them as it did when they were intimate and her feet found their place instinctively. The dance became a game instead of a chore and her smile bloomed again as he spun her.

The bard transitioned smoothly into a new song and they kept on dancing. Quick glances around her revealed that the other sorceresses had taken to the dancefloor. Naturally, Yennefer was paired with Istredd but the others had found - or had been found by - nobles. She suspected that the choices were not accidental but she didn't feel the need to bother herself with the details until she was accosted by a noble in-between dances. Not even the witcher's presence by her side was deterrent enough for some.

"Mistress Thompson, permit me to introduce myself –"

What followed was a string of titles she had no intention of remembering five minutes later.

"- and perhaps you'd do me the honour of granting me a dance if –" He shot a furtive look at Geralt before continuing "- your companion permits."

Just as she was about to dismiss him politely, Yennefer's eyes caught hers with an unspoken request to open her mind. She did and Yen's voice echoed in her thoughts.

"I know you haven't accepted the place I offered you in the Lodge but I'd appreciate it if you were mindful of how your words and actions reflect upon the rest of us. Like it or not, you're one of us - at least in their perception."

"I have no wish to dance with –"

"Oh, don't be a child." Yennefer's scowl enforced the reprimand. "It's not about dancing. He wants to ask a favour. That's the one and only reason any of them seek us out and our most powerful leverage. It's how we survive. "

Yen's last statement was what swayed her, so with a sigh and an apologetic look aimed at Geralt, she let the nobleman lead her to the dance floor.

---

Of course, he knew sorceresses had obligations. He expected this of Yen when they were together, but to see Criss walk off to dance with a stranger just because he was a noble… hurt. It had been a long while since he had last feared her turning out to be as conniving as the rest of them and even now he was sure that he had no real cause for concern but he could help it.

A little part of him would always fear being blindsided.

With a shake of his head, he silenced that part of him but still kept watch over how low the nobleman was placing his hands on her waist. He had drawn a mental line and anything reaching below was going to get cut even if he had to use the blunt cutlery provided. It was also a completely stupid and unnecessary overreaction. He was fully aware of it and yet it was another thing he couldn't but help feel. Not when he had thought of her naked underneath even throughout the wedding proceedings. Being so pent up was turning him possessive in an almost feral way.

She wanted him ravenous, but she might be getting more than she had bargained for.

A perfectly manicured hand rested on his arm and the flare of the opulent dress sleeve brought him to attention. He turned stiffly to meet the Queen's green eyes. She smiled broadly at him but despite her joyful expression, a predatory undercurrent lingered in the background.

"I'm told you are due special thanks for our success in bringing Radovid to heel."

Is that what one is owed for having the skin stripped from their back? he thought, pursing his lips but saying nothing.

"Dijkstra has informed me regarding your role and of what you endured for our cause."

Our cause , he thought mockingly, trying not to sneer.

"It seems your fate is intertwined with mine," she continued.

"Is it?" he replied dryly.

"You have freed me from my bonds for the third time, so yes , I'd say it must be fate."

"Twice. Your latest victory is better attributed to the unconventional alliance of Temerian guerilla forces, spies and mages. As for the others, I wouldn't call it fate."

"Then what?"

"A witcher doing his job."

"You've never struck me as the modest type," she said. "Your presence always brings with it fortuitous and unexpected boons. In any case, the people of Redania have much to thank you for, especially now when victory is within our grasp. And fate has chosen you, though you refuse to acknowledge it. I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you at Leuvaarden's reception. You were put there to release me from my curse."

"As far as I remember you were searching for another kind of release."

She raised an outraged eyebrow at his insinuation, taking her hand off his arm. He almost scoffed at her hypocrisy.

"Your craving for catoblepas," he misdirected like she hadn't dragged him to a bedroom under false pretences and tried to mount him. Lucky for him, even with all his amnesia, one thing lingered on and kept him from making a mistake - his distaste for royalty.

"Oh, that," she waved him off. "A silly and unimportant whim. You shouldn't read too much into it." With fingers ending in blood-red nails she pinched the ruby hanging on her necklace. "As you see, I'm still following your advice. There's no danger of my affliction returning, especially now that the Hierarch has also blessed the stone." Her tone held a hint of mockery.

Geralt refrained from rolling his eyes at how the Hierarch always managed to insert him into every royal matter.

"I'm sure that's a great comfort and that the Hierarch is much relieved that you've so eagerly embraced his faith."

She shrugged. "Some things, however distasteful are best for the people. Mere days ago they might have placed me on a pyre if given the occasion and now the Hierarch has presided over my marriage." She leaned in closer. "A former striga's marriage," she enforced with a quiet but malicious laugh. "Such delicious irony."

"I'm sure he never thought that's how his week would end," Geralt replied with a quick glance at the high priest.

"Yes, I'm sure many are having a rather surprising week," she said with a glimmer in her eye. "And it's not over yet." Her expression turned fox-like as Triss made her way towards them.

"Your Majesty," she said with reverence. "I loathe to pull you away from what must be a scintillating conversation –" sarcasm dripped from her as she glanced at Geralt, "- but Ilde of Rinde and Yuvrild Ligottel are insisting on a word regarding the new trade agreements with Kovir."

"Of course, my dear," the queen placated. "Excuse me, will you, Geralt? Even at her wedding, a queen's work is never done. Perhaps later we'll get a chance to catch up more."

Geralt nodded politely and returned his eyes to the dancefloor, searching for Criss only to find her in the arms of a different nobleman. His jaw clenched on impulse as a wave of annoyance swept over him.

"She's doing quite well, isn't she?" Philippa's low sultry voice rang from behind him. "For a beginner, I mean," she added as she came to his side.

"The queen? I wouldn't call her a beginner though she's seen more of the dungeons than the throne room in recent years," he replied distracted.

"Indeed, but I wasn't talking about her," she said, nodding to the dancers. "I didn't think she had it in her, but she's more cunning than I gave her credit for. She's struck two deals and is already on her third nobleman while the night's still young."

"Don't call her that." The words came out from between gritted teeth.

"What? Cunning?" Philippa laughed. "Come now, Geralt. You'd think I call her something unbecoming." She patted his arm and managed to turn even that small gesture patronising. "It was a compliment."

"Coming from you, it sounds like an insult."

"I see you're still as old-fashioned as ever, witcher. It's not good for survival, you know. One needs to adapt. Your date for the evening seems to have understood that." She patted his arm again. "All sorceresses do… eventually."

"She's not…" He meant to say she's not a sorceress but she was . "She's not like you ," he said instead.

"No, but, to be fair to her, none are like me. If they're lucky, sorceresses get to be a little over a hundred. One doesn't get to see three and a half centuries without being cunning, so once more… I meant it as a compliment. She might yet find her place among us."

At long last, Criss broke off from the noble and avoided another two who were queuing up. She drifted smoothly between dancing pairs and stopped only when she was by Geralt's side.

"Dear lord, they don't know when to stop, do they?" she said with an annoyed huff. "If I had to entertain more like that last one, Yennefer wouldn't like what I'd end up saying… or doing."

She threw a glance in Yennefer's direction and Geralt felt the telltale signs of telepathy between them. It ended with Criss pursing her lips in irritation while Yen rolled her eyes and Philippa, who had been listening in, laughed.

"You think it's funny that he thought he could buy me?" Criss asked with increased annoyance.

"No, I think it's funny that you're surprised by it. After all, the first two did buy you."

"They bought my services, not me," she replied, the tips of her ears turning pink. "And I might have offered them freely if it wouldn't 'spoil the market' as Yennefer put it."

"We're not a charity," Philippa said with arms crossed. "Scoff all you like but I speak from experience when I say that things given freely soon get taken for granted."

"But it's health ," she emphasised the last word with force. "People are dying from things that could be cured in a week or less and you're preoccupied by lack of gratitude?"

" Yes, dear girl, because otherwise we're dispensable and dangerous and we end up on pyres."

Criss exhaled and her expression softened. "Fine. It's your world, I won't meddle… But the fact that he thought I'd whore myself out doesn't speak well of –"

"He what? " Geralt said louder than he had intended.

"Apparently, there's a new rumour that sorceresses can restore a man's vigour," Criss replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Shame," Philippa scoffed. "I much preferred the rumour that we make men permanently limp. Perhaps I should take steps to restore it, I much rather they fear –"

"You do that," Criss cut her off and turned to Geralt. "Mind if we get some air?"

He nodded curtly and offered her his arm. On their way out, he spotted the nobleman who had dared make the indecent proposal to his date and pulled her in his direction.

"Geralt? What – Oh, no! I have no intention of speaking to that man again!" she said, trying to detour him.

"We won't be speaking," he said with a clenched jaw.

"If you're thinking of hurting him –"

"No." He tipped his head. "Not exactly. Don't worry, I'm not going to make a scene."

A quick gesture done under their joined arms and a mumbled suggestion later, the nobleman was on all fours, trying to bite the leg of the lady he was conversing with. Geralt smiled and led her to the nearest door, not bothering to watch the display.

"Did you Axii him?" Criss asked in a whisper.

"Mhm. Thought that if he behaved like a dog, he might as well embrace it. The guards can do the walloping or if one of the mages is feeling generous, they might dispel him. But I doubt they will." He cast a glance in her direction. "You disapprove?"

She thought for a moment and then smiled and imitated his earlier reaction. "No. Not exactly."

"Good. Because I'm not sorry and I would've hated to have to pretend I was," he said, pushing the doors that led into a series of corridors and back into the main square.

A few others had the same idea, so the courtyard was animated by groups of guests strolling down the worn flagstone pavement. Whoever had organized the wedding had thought this would be the case because not only had they arranged for a dance troupe to perform, they had also placed tables laden with fruits along the sides of the courtyard.

Servants weaved around entertainers and guests, offering chalices filled with wine. Geralt grabbed two from the nearest one and offered one to Criss who was curiously following the dancers despite their poor vantage point.

"Let's go up on a balcony," he said, nudging her side. "You'll get a better view from there."

She nodded and let herself be led up a narrow flight of stairs to a covered walkway usually reserved for guards. From there, they had a good view of most of the square, so he propped one shoulder into the nearest wooden pillar and sipped his wine, watching in turn the display below and Criss's enjoyment. With a rapt expression, she leant her elbows onto the stone ledge, the cup of wine lying forgotten by her side. He might not have normally enjoyed royal events but in this moment he considered it worth it to see her happy. Not to mention that the way she stood created that beautiful arch in her back he loved to see when he took her from behind. A dirty grin bloomed on his lips as he remembered the lack of certain garments.

As if feeling his eyes on her, she turned her attention to him.

"Don't you like the show?"

His eyes flitted to the dancers for a split second before he shrugged.

"I don't dislike it. I just like watching you more."

"Do you?" Her smile widened as she straightened and turned to rest her lower back on the parapet. "I was hoping that would be the case," she said, grasping her skirt to lift and part it down the side.

The fabric split to show a smooth thigh then drifted higher under his widening eyes. He expected her to stop below her hips but she pulled it all the way up to reveal just how perfectly naked she was underneath. Part of him wanted to drag it back down to protect her modesty but that part was paralyzed by the wicked smile she had, so he stood there gaping, looking presumably stupid, with his mouth completely dry and unable to speak.

Her legs parted, bared all the way up and in the low flicker of torchlight the inner part of her thighs glistened.

"Want to watch some more?" she teased when he swallowed thickly.

"That's – you're – yes," he gasped out at last. Heat travelled up his neck as his heart increased its dull pace.

Delicate fingers drifted through the wetness and his eyes were riveted by their up and down movements. He should have cared that they were in plain sight, only the low parapet hiding them from curious eyes, but he didn't have it in him to give a shit about anything except how good she looked and how desperate he was to fuck her.

A small gasp escaped her and his eyes flickered up to see her bite her lower lip to catch another moan. Her legs parted wider as she lazily stroked between them.

"Come here," she said low and sultry.

He was helpless to disobey.

His feet moved of their own accord to place him between her splayed thighs as he awkwardly still held on to his cup of wine. She smiled and took it with her free hand to lay it beside her own, letting her skirts fall back into place. He stood embarrassingly dazed, wanting to do nothing except lift her onto the ledge and screw her off her feet but acutely aware of the commotion below and of their chances of being caught in the act.

"Relax," it was her turn to soothe him, her hand now drifting under his tunic and over the front of his trousers.

Her touch did the last bit of work to bring him to full hardness and the realization that he was a goner. Even if it landed him on the pillory of shame or the gallows, he had to have her.

His lips covered hers and forced them open as his hands grasped her hips to pull her closer.

"Nah-huh," she said, pulling her lips from his even as her hands unlaced his trousers and slipped under the fabric.

"What –?" he said, half groan, half gasp at the direct contact with her hand.

Her slick was still on her fingers and as she lazily moved up and down over his length, he found himself in difficulty of articulating full sentences. It made no sense that she wouldn't kiss him but she would stroke him.

"I – damn! – I want you," he mumbled in the end.

"Good," she replied with a shameless smile and guided his hand between her legs. "But we don't want to be too overt or we'll become the entertainment for the crowd below."

Like he cared. He was at the point where he would have mounted her on the banquet table. Especially since his fingers found her soaked under her dress. Drifting through the slick, he drew lines with circles at the top and her lips fell open on a soft moan.

"Then you'd better keep quiet," he teased though he wasn't fairing much better.

Her firm grip moved at a steady languorous pace along his length and he found it increasingly difficult not to make any noise. A gasp and grunt followed as his hips thrust forward in search of a faster rhythm.

"They're unlikely to hear us over the din," she said between her own gasps.

He grunted again and leaned forward to kiss her. Who gave a shit if anyone saw? This time she didn't pull away but the sound of booted footsteps coming down the stairs shortened the kiss.

With a despairing sound that was closer to a growl than anything else, he pulled his hand from under her skirts and stepped back.

"Someone's coming," he answered her questioning gaze.

"Oh," was her only reply as she removed her fingers from around him and wrapped them around her cup instead, taking a long drink.

Sure enough, in a few moments, a couple of soldiers came down the steps at the end of the walkway. They passed by them with barely a glance and Geralt found himself suddenly glad for the longer hem of his doublet as he hadn't had time to lace up his trousers.

He sighed in relief as the guards disappeared from sight.

"That was close – Fuck! What are you –" he asked as she grasped his shoulders and turned him to rest with his back against the parapet.

His question was answered when she went down to her knees in front of him.

"Keep an eye out, would you?" she said with a dirty smile as she unbuttoned the bottom of his doublet and pulled him out of his trousers.

He nearly cursed as her lips wrapped around his girth and gave him a slow suck. It took all his remaining wits to form the next sentence.

"What if someone noticed you sinking below the parapet?"

She hummed with him still in her mouth.

That sound she made never failed to undo him as its vibrations rippled through his body. Suddenly, he regretted asking anything because the possibility that he had just cheated himself out of a blowjob became real.

She sat back and he had to hold himself from gripping her hair to pull her back down. The only thing that stopped him was her eyes. They flashed gold and his medallion buzzed against his skin. If it hadn't been for that, he'd have rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing double because now there were two of them kneeling at his feet.

One of them stood, while the other returned her lips to his length, brushing up and down teasingly.

"If anyone noticed, they'll think that I bent over to pick something I dropped," the Criss beside him answered before taking a sip from her forgotten cup of wine.

His eyes moved between the two identical women with undisguised shock despite the fact that this wasn't the first time she had used this skill for sex. Then he remembered how wild they had gotten the last time and a wave of arousal swept through him. His fingers grasped the ledge so hard they turned white as he fought to keep from moaning.

"Mm," he struggled to speak, "last time – fuck! – you – mm – you both felt what I did to either. Is it – is it the same now?" Unfortunately, that was all the coherence he had in him.

She hummed, amused. "Witcher and wine."

Was that a yes? He couldn't tell. His last brain cells were occupied with the pleasure her mouth was wringing from him.

The one below bobbed up and down with hollowed cheeks and he struggled to keep his hands away from her when his instinct was to curl his fingers into her hair. As a compromise, he cupped her nape and held her pressed against his groin. Every inch of him was wrapped in her perfect mouth and all he could do was throw his head back and sigh.

The corner of her mouth curled up as her lips drew another groan from him when he let her pull off. Her tongue twisted around his girth as she leant back only to take him all the way down once more.

"But – uhh – will it – fuck! – slow down for a second – I can't speak when you suck me down to the balls –"

She obliged, pulling off him and lazily stroking him instead.

"Will it affect you physically? I mean, if I tug on your hair or your dress, will it make them unravel on both of you?" he asked, fixing his hands preemptively on the ledge.

"No, it won't," she replied before sucking him down. "But I'll feel it. Just like I taste you now." She licked her lips and sipped the wine again. "Delicious."

"Good because I don't know how long I can keep my hands away and I feared I'd leave you naked for all to see." He couldn't help another moan as he inched ever closer to coming. "I want you out of that dress. I want to – fuck! – see your tits bounce as I sink into you."

Her pale skin flushed and once more her bottom lip was between her teeth, then a wicked smile took over.

His breath caught in his throat as she tugged on the laces holding the bodice together until it was loose enough to allow her hands underneath it. His eyes were glued to her cleavage as she bared her breasts and pulled them together.

The image of her mouth snuggly wrapped around him over the background of a pair of pert tits was enough to break the little self control he had left. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding fast for a few staggered thrusts as he spent himself with a guttural moan.

Over his laboured breathing and the loud thumping of his heart he faintly registered that she asked him something.

"Wha – what?" he said brokenly as he regained enough awareness to unclench his fingers and release her.

"I asked if it was worth the wait?" she repeated with an undercurrent of amusement.

The copy at his feet licked lazily up and down, robbing him of the ability to answer. All that came out was a pleased hum.

"Good, because this was only the appetizer," she said, waving a hand to make a little firefly appear. "Go find us a safe and secluded place where we won't be bothered for an hour…"

"Make it two."

She smiled and made the correction before whispering the rest of the incantation and the little creature flew away.

"Let's see if it finds us anything," she said, despite her double's unceasing lavish attention.

"It better because what you're doing right now is keeping me hard and your mouth might not be enough to sate me."

His fingers drifted through her hair, making a mess of it. She looked so good, with her elegant dress and tangled locks, spit tying her soft tongue to his hard length - ravishingly improper. Before he was even aware of it, he had guided his tip into her mouth again and bucked against her.

"How insatiable," the real one said as he sank his whole length down the double's throat.

"Can you blame me? You've kept me in a constant state of arousal since I returned with Lambert." He sighed. "Besides, your illusion is so good I could swear it's the real thing."

She just smiled and drank her wine, watching him sink in and out of her with renewed thirst.

"Never thought I'd take anyone up on an offer to get an orgasm from an illusion," he said, already chasing his next peak.

"You've been offered this before? Yennefer?"

Her rhythm slowed, putting distance between him and his next high.

"Not exactly. Philippa once threatened me with a good time that lacked the – um – act associated with it."

"Didn't think you'd be her type."

"Oh, I'm definitely not. It was her way of making a point of how easy it is to manipulate people and trick their senses when –" He paused as she increased her pace and words became a jumble of letters in his mind.

By all rights he should have been in a state of indifference or discomfort after just coming but instead his last thought lay forgotten as he closed in on a another orgasm. It was amazing how fast she could get him there. Pressure built low in his abdomen and just like that he spilt inside her for the second time that night.

"Seems I managed to sate you, after all," she said, amused.

He chuckled as the last echoes of his peak faded. "Oh, I'm far from sated," he replied, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip.

A sparkle of light flitted across his field of view. He followed it to see the firefly land on her shoulder.

"Then it's fortunate that my spell found us a cozy place to continue," she said as her double licked him clean and tucked him back into his trousers before vanishing into thin air.

"Lead the way, love," he replied, the prospect of having her spurring him to lace himself up as quickly as he could.

His impatience only grew as they followed the firefly down covered walkways and up flights of stairs, only to be later led down again. Were they going in circles?

"Are you sure this thing knows where it's going?" he asked, unable to keep doubt from seeping into his voice.

"Of course."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure we've been up this way before."

"Hush," she whispered, pressing her hand to his mouth.

The firefly had stopped ahead of them while on the walkway below marched a half dozen guards. Geralt stepped back into the shadows, taking her with him just before one of the guards glanced up.

Once they passed, the firefly resumed its anxious flitter and darted down the nearest stair with them in tow.

"It's finding us a safe path so we won't be seen. I'd rather not be followed or stopped by a guard."

"But if we disappear for too long there's a chance someone might come looking for us anyway."

"True. But I've thought of a solution for that as well." She shot him a little glance. "One that would allow us to enjoy ourselves and the wedding at the same time."

His brow furrowed. There was only one way that could happen. "You mean to create doubles for both of us?"

"Mhm. If you're willing, of course."

"I don't think being willing will be my biggest problem, but I'll do my best," he replied thinking back on how vivid every sensation was when she had last created a double for him. Everything was amplified like an echo bouncing off walls and he couldn't imagine how he'd ever be able to keep a straight face in public while at the same time feeling her body wrapped around his.

After a few more turns, the firefly led them into a building and up a spiral staircase. At the top there was a single door and it was open. Beyond it lay a room decked in opulent red velvet rimmed with silver, lush carpets depicting the Redanian eagle and on the wall opposite the entrance stood a painting of the Hierarch himself.

If he had to guess based on the painting, wardrobe and full-length mirror, this was where they had arranged for the Hierarch to rest and prepare before the ceremony. There wasn't a bed, but there was a lush red sofa and his lips split into a grin. Something about desecrating the Hierarch's personal space filled him with childish glee.

He pushed the door closed behind them and grasped her hips to walk her to the mirror.

"This is perfect," he said, standing behind her and cupping her breasts through her bodice.

"Wait," she said, turning to face him. "First things first. Our doubles."

"Oh, right." He groaned at the delay.

She cast the spell and next to them appeared their perfect doppelgangers.

"Alright. So you still remember how to control the double's movements independently from your own?"

"Mhm."

"Perfect," she said, smiling. "Let's give it a try."

Her double offered her hand. "Dance with me," she said.

He imagined the movements required and his double executed them. Just as he twirled her, the real Criss caressed him over his trousers and his double nearly missed a step.

"Maybe we should stick to watching others dance instead," he said, leading her to the door.

---

The doubles left, descending the stairs to find their way back to the ledge from where they had previously watched the entertainers. By his appraisal, they were two flights up from where they wanted to be, so without the firefly taking them on a detour, he led them down the nearest stair and then straight ahead through the walkway.

They got a quarter of the way before they came face to face with a couple of guards.

"Halt!"

"How did you two get here?" one of the guards asked with an undercurrent of fear in his voice.

"Oh, this is such a beautiful building and we were just looking for a better vantage point from higher up. Did we do something wrong?" Criss asked with innocence.

"No, ma'am but guests are not allowed in this area. Let me escort you back."

"Your help is much appreciated!" she beamed. "Come, Geralt, let's follow this nice young guard back. I'm sure they're serving the next course by now."

---

XXX

---

Alone again, he turned her once more to face the mirror.

"Now, where was I?" he whispered the words next to the shell of her ear and a light shiver ran down her body.

His hands deftly undressed her, careful not to rip the fabric while his kisses drifted up and down the column of her neck. Soon the dress was no more than a puddle of fabric on the floor and she was a mess of moans in his arms.

He cupped her bare breasts then left a hand drift down her stomach to the apex of her thighs until it met slick skin. His fingers drew lines and circles over the soft wet skin while his teeth lightly tugged on her earlobe and was rewarded when she reached back to circle his neck and her mouth rounded on a sigh.

The sound made him want to melt into her.

His other hand pinched her nipple between two fingers and her ass pushed back into his groin, giving him a painful reminder that he was still fully clothed. This was a perfect time to regret not having a third hand because he was having a hard time deciding which part of her to release - even if it was just for a moment. With some regret, he licked her wetness of his fingers and unlaced his trousers, only bothering to unbutton the bottom half of the doublet before fisting his own length. The taste of her arousal had reminded him how absolutely ravenous he was even after two orgasms. Then he remembered how she had tortured him. How she had taunted him with her nakedness - shameless and wet, always so close and yet out of reach for hours on end. Maybe she deserved to be made to wait a while longer. He pressed his hard length against her buttocks, pumping it a few times before sliding it between her inner thighs. She gasped as the friction from the slide stimulated her clit, then shifted her hips to sink onto him. His firm grasp on her hip stopped her.

"I want you inside," she moaned.

"Nah-huh. Not yet, love," he said, teasingly. "I want you ravenous first."

He ended his words with a slap over the side of her ass. It made her jump and grind on him and it was enough to set off the back and forth of her hips as she sought her pleasure however she could.

The arm she had reached back and around his neck struggled to find more purchase as he watched avidly how she pushed back into him, faster and faster.

Soft slick skin stroked him, chasing her own end, hypnotizing to watch and even better to feel. If he didn't focus, he might forget his payback and push up into her body. He swallowed hard, pinching her nipple again as he remebered how the give of her walls felt when he stretched her open.

Fuck it!

On her next slide, he guided himself inside her and exhaled hard at having the sensation top the memory. The stuttered moan that left her did nothing to slow her pace. If anything she was pushing back into him with more force and greed and he was meeting her each time with his thrusts.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, my fucking – Geralt – Fu – !" Out of an abundance of caution, he covered her mouth to stop the slurred words that followed. Her eyes squeezed shut and nothing more than broken gasps left her. He felt each one against his palm until she came with her teeth biting into the knuckle of his thumb, her walls fighting to hold him fast inside her.

Crescent marks marred his nape as she struggled to hold herself up through her orgasm. Through the hard and fast slide between her legs. She kept coming, biting down on him until she drew blood and every muscle in her body seized. Only then did he stop.

Her staggered breath came in harsh as she melted against him. It took her a few moments to open her eyes.

"Fuck, I bit you to the bone," she gasped in horror at the sight of his mauled hand.

She turned in his arms, letting him slip out of her, focused solely on his injury. But that was the last thing on his mind as he dragged her back to the velvet sofa he had decided to desecrate.

"Wait – oof!" she gasped as he pulled her to straddle him.

Ignoring the sting in his arm, he guided himself inside her again and pushed up.

"Fuck –" She grasped his shoulders, falling forward from his thrusts. "You're bleeding, let me – goddamn it – fix it – fuck! – it only takes two seconds, if you'd just pause –"

"I've been waiting for this all day. I'm not pausing for anything. If you want to heal it, you're going to have to do it while I fuck you," he replied, grasping her nape to pull her into a messy kiss.

She moaned into his mouth, letting him bounce her up and down, her well-meaning intentions momentarily forgotten in favour of being made to ride him.

"Oh my fucking –" she cursed prying her lips from his. "Alright, if that's how you want it."

She blindly reached out for his injured hand and guided it to her mouth. Enraptured, he watched as she licked the blood beading on the bite, the touch of her tongue both arousing and stinging as she rocked on top of him, taking control of the rhythm. Mixed feelings stirred in him and the fact that right then their doubles had been stopped by guards complicated things. He struggled to keep his focus on not doing anything stupid in front of the Redanians but when she moved from licking to sucking his thumb, he counted his blessings that she led the conversation and all he had to do was nod and follow along. For all the crowns in the kingdom, he couldn't have done more than that.

His attention returned to the woman in his lap when the warmth of her healing enveloped his hand. Any pain he had vanished and all that remained was the soft suck of her mouth. He pushed and pulled his thumb from her mouth, brushing his pad against her tongue.

"Haven't had enough of my mouth?" she asked, releasing his finger for a moment before sucking it back in.

"Never. You know I want you in every way possible."

"Hmm, and all at the same time if possible," she said with a wicked smile, hinting at how they had previously used their doubles.

The thought sent a spike of lust through his whole body.

"You want a repeat?" she asked.

He threw his head back, grasping her swaying hips to slow her down. It was a bad time to have an orgasm when their doubles were still near the guards. Although he thought he could control himself, he wasn't about to risk it on the off chance that some profanity spilt from his lips.

"I'd love a repeat but unfortunately I think I'm a long way from mastering independent control over more than one copy."

"Too bad," she replied, leaning forward to nibble on his ear as she moved atop him.

She picked up her pace, her inner walls momentarily clamping down around him.

Her eyes closed as she chased her high, sliding up and down and he imagined lewd memories fuelling her desire because that was exactly what he was running through his mind.

She leaned forward, letting her weight rest on his chest as her hips stuttered in their drive. Her orgasm hit like a rolling wave and for a moment he held his breath, struggling not to join her yet. Meanwhile, her copy asked the guards if they had been allowed to celebrate the wedding in the barracks. There wasn't even a trace of hesitation in her voice despite her panting into his neck. He couldn't imagine ever having that much self-control. To him, the guards' answer didn't even register when all his focus was on the woman riding him.

He sighed a breath of relief when the guards finally wished them a pleasant evening after warning them to not stray far from the main building lest they meet others less understanding.

The entertainers were still performing, so they provided a good excuse to stay in the courtyard a while longer. His control was tenuous at best and few things would have been more embarrassing that thrusting into thin air while grunting conspicuously in public. He pulled her to a bench while on the other side of the courtyard, up in a tower, his double wrapped an arm around her, fully set on chasing his own pleasure.

His eyes drifted over her shoulder and into the mirror behind her. It was such a treat to get to watch her from both vantage points. It would be a shame if she didn't benefit from it.

"Hey – what? – Oh!" she stuttered as he lifted and turned her to face the mirror before pulling her back on top of him.

She leant back and to the side, trying to catch his eye but he nodded to the mirror and her gaze followed.

"Thought you'd like to see how good you look," he said, grasping her hip with one hand and guiding himself with the other while both watched his girth stretch her and slide inside her inch by inch.

She threw her head back and rested her weight on him for a self-indulgent moment. His fingers drifted up and down from where their bodies joined as he pushed up into her, looking into the mirror at how he disappeared inside her. His mouth sought that spot under her ear and a low shudder ran through her body, jolting her into a light bounce. Her eyes were back on the mirror and a wicked smile graced her lips.

"We do look good together. Such a shame you're still dressed," she said between gasps as her bounce got increasingly higher.

"Don't tell me you miss seeing my scars."

"You think I don't?"

"I know they're not the most appealing…"

"There's not a single thing I'd change about you. I love every part of you, scars and all. That being said –" She shifted and laid a palm on the backrest for better support. "- I want to see you come but you're going to ruin those trousers unless we do something about it."

If she expected him to undress, she would be sorely disappointed. He had no intention of stopping what they were doing for such an unimportant thing as the state of his clothes. However, that wasn't what she had in mind. Her eyes flashed gold and another copy of her appeared - fully nude and on her knees.

Wherever this was going, he was game.

The new copy leaned forward, grasping his thighs just above his knees and giving him a wonderful view of her backside in the mirror. The one in his lap rolled her hips without pause as the other one languorously licked up and down over his length as it moved in and out of her, occasionally going over his fingers. She moved down, to his balls, running her tongue over each in turn. He gasped underneath her at the additional stimulation.

Being with a sorceress definitely had its perks.

"Just making sure none of this mess makes it onto your pants," she said before turning the long licks into open-mouth kisses.

He wished he could come up with some smart retort, but his mind was blank. All he could do was mindlessly thrust up into her and watch the gorgeous display before him as he neared the point of no return.

Kisses turned into slow sucking, then licking again, then more kisses and he was lost in a whirlwind of sensation watching her tits bounce and wetness spread down her legs. He came inside her with an undignified grunt, feeling his pulse rush down to his groin in spurts. Little white dribbles slipped out of her as she slowly slid up and down and all of them were caught on her double's dutiful tongue.

A pleased hum was all he was capable of as she cleaned him up. A demanding mouth was seeking his lips and he opened his eyes to Criss's mischievous smile.

"What?" he mumbled against her mouth, unable and unwilling to end the kiss.

"Tonight it's my turn to see how many times a witcher can come."

"Want to turn this into a competition?"

The idea that he'd ever consider leaving her less than satisfied was a plain insult.

Yes, he couldn't fuck her right after coming but there were other ways he could please her. And while he was doing that he would also get the treat of feeling her clamp down around his length.

His fingers were back between her legs, working circles and lines even if he had started to grow soft inside her. He wouldn't stay soft for long. That , he knew for sure. Already she was writhing in his lap and the dutiful copy was back between their joined bodies, licking and sucking.

By the time she was on the precipice of her orgasm, he was fully hard again and fucking up into her sweet spot.

A series of expletives marked the incoming climax as he pressed down on her clit and pushed up into her in a steady rhythm while his other hand grasped a breast. The rapid drumming of her heart mixed with the percussion of the entertainers in the courtyard as his consciousness absorbed elements from both surroundings. Another rhythmic sound joined in but it was coming from somewhere else. The standard bearers were flanking the doors, tapping against the stone flags. A loud trumpet burst followed, then a page invited the guests back inside. The band stopped playing and the onlookers quickly began to file in.

"Guess we'd better go inside too," he said, offering her his arm.

"I can't say I mind," she replied, standing. "I was starting to get peckish."

Meanwhile, her copy had pulled him out and was feasting on him. And, although the sensations were diminished, he found that he had to walk at a slower pace to keep focus away from the languorous suck of her lips.

They found their seats again and servants brought out a slew of new courses for them to enjoy. He had to admit that they looked more appealing than usual.

"You two disappeared for quite a long time," Margarita commented from Geralt's side, sporting a knowing smile.

"It wasn't that long," Criss replied.

"You missed two full courses."

"Oh, did we?" I was a little scary how believable she was when she feined surprise. "We must have lost track of time watching the performance in the courtyard."

"Mhm, I'm sure. Hope you got it out of your system because there are at least eight more nobles who wish to have a bit of your time."

"Can't you or the others deal with them? I'm not even a Lodge member."

"I did. Those eight were the ones who asked for you specifically. We'd appreciate it if you didn't refuse."

Criss rolled her eyes, and laddled veal smothered in white sauce onto her plate.

"Depends on what they'll ask. If they're anything like that last one..." She sighed and took a bite, closing her eyes in delight. "Oh, this is so good!"

Geralt smiled, because unlike the rest of their dinner mates, both of them were savouring more than just their meal.

"As I'm sure Yenna told you, your actions reflect on all of us," Triss chimed in. "So however distasteful their proposals are, we expect you to keep your composure and be polite." Her eyes narrowed and focused on Criss. "There are repercussions to hexing nobles to behave like dogs in public."

"There should be repercussions to nobles –" Her words were cut off by the rhythmic tapping of standards and all eyes turned to the king and queen who stood from their seats.

"My dear lords and ladies," the queen began, "tonight is an evening for celebration. Not only does this moment mark the end of a tyrannical rule, this will be the start of a new age of peace –"

"That's a tad optimistic when the war isn't over yet," Margarita muttered.

"- soon Nilfgaard will be brought to heel –"

"Leave it to rulers to promise the moon and stars, so you're focused on the sky while they lighten your purse," Geralt replied.

"- This night will be written about in history books and you, good sirs and ladies, will have the honour of saying you were witnesses to this triumph."

On both sides of the table, servants balancing trays with topped off wine chalices were filing in and placing a cup in front of each guest.

"So, let us celebrate with this special vintage and join us in toasting to a new beginning!" The queen raised her own cup. "After tonight, Redania will prosper again!"

In unison, all the guests raised their cups and cheered before drinking deeply. Geralt hummed at the pleasant coolness of the dry red as it went down but the sensation was shortlived. It landed in his stomach with a punch and an unpleasant coldness spread throughout his body.

A blow from behind laid him flat against the table and the image of the hall dissolved into nothingness.

---

A/N: I know this was a long chapter but I hope you enjoyed my version of a royal wedding and the slightly unhinged sex! As always, thank you for reading and all comments are welcome! The next part of the wedding will be posted in about a week (I still have a bit of editing to do).