The one with the drunk snacks and the romance

The days went by. In the mornings, before the sun heated up the oven that was Toussaint, Kit went for a run. Just around Corvo Bianco – she did not dare to venture out any further ever since she had accepted that monsters were real. Geralt tried his best to convince her that she did not have to fear another attack as these had become so rare but then again, he was more at ease knowing she was just around the corner. During the day he showed her the area and places he liked. In the evenings Kit made it a habit to scribble into her notebook. Geralt would have given anything to have a look into it, to understand her better, but the mere thought felt wrong. What did she have left in this new world but her private sphere? He was not going to take that away from her, too.

Kit spent the days reading through Geralt's little library, learning about all sorts of things. And if she was not learning from books she learned from the people who worked at the vineyard. One day Rita Bernard, an elderly woman who helped to keep the gardens in order, taught her how to weave reed baskets.

"I like to keep my hands busy," Kit replied when Geralt returned home one evening to find several reed baskets of varying sizes strewn across the dining table. The baskets looked very much like accidents and Geralt made a point of keeping his opinion about them to himself.

Kit also befriended the cats which, during the midday heat, would gather in the shades of the stable. She held a slender grey one in her arms when she noticed that it had a white heart-shaped patch of fur beneath its jaw.

"Look at that!" she exclaimed excitedly, holding the cat in her outstretched arms towards Geralt. The cat, which just a moment ago had enjoyed being pampered by Kit, furiously hissed at Geralt.

"Huh?" Kit took the cat back into an embrace and it meowed happily again.

"Cats hate me," Geralt explained. Kit critically raised an eyebrow. She held the cat out again and it hissed again.

"Wow, this one really doesn't like you," she concluded.

At some point early on Geralt had tried to lure the cats with tasty treats but soon had to realize that his negotiations would never lead to a satisfying agreement. Kit sat the grey cat back one on the floor.

"How many cats do you even have?" she asked while she started petting the other cat, a particularly fat black one.

"Not sure, somewhere between one and three I think." He shrugged.

"You probably didn't name them I assume?" The black cat rolled onto its back, sprawling and letting Kit pet its belly.

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, what did I expect from a guy who has been giving all of his horses the same name?" She chuckled. "I christen thee… Sir Pounce!" Sir Pounce, who was too fat and had certainly not pounced on anything in years, meowed.

Geralt gave her credit for trying. Kit hid her sadness and worries as best as she could but it was obvious that her happiness was shallow.

"Maybe I can help with the harvest when they start in a few weeks?" she asked him one evening over dinner.

Annoyed Geralt wheezed. "I'm telling you again: You don't have to work here. You are my guest."

She nodded. "I appreciate this very much. But unless you have something more fun to offer, I would like to do something with my time."

The witcher pondered for a moment. "What do you do all day in your world?"

Kit thought about it for a moment. "Most of the non-sleeping part of my day is spent being at work. I am… Let's say I'm an accountant. That's not really what I do but it's the only thing that I assume exists in this world as well."

"And when you don't work?"

"I like to read or do anything, um, artistic? I recently tried to learn how to draw. Properly, I mean."

"Maybe I should have you paint my portrait to see how that compares with the other one," Geralt mused.

"Draw me like one of your French girls." She smiled to herself.

"What?"

"That's for another time."

It frustrated Geralt greatly when she did not explain these things to him. He tried something easier.

"Who do you spend your time with?"

"Besides my family just a few friends. There is nothing like coming together for a good meal. I miss that. Just going someplace, eating pizza and talking." Her eyes lost focus for a moment when she silently repeated: "Pizza..."

Geralt was not satisfied yet. "Do you keep other company?"

Blue eyes looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean? There is a spider in my bathroom. I'm calling her Mildred. Shitty company though, just leaves her spiderwebs everywhere and isn't very talkative."

"I was thinking more of men, for example." Kit's behavior was confusing to Geralt. He was certain they were flirting every now and then, had a feeling she liked him, but nothing ever happened between them, not even accidental touches. He wondered whether his impression was false and she had no interest in him or if, maybe, there was someone in her life already. Or was this just the way women from her world acted?

Kit chuckled. "I'm not dating anyone, if that's what you mean." She pushed a small tomato over her plate. "But if we are already being nosy: What's currently going on with your great romance?"

"What romance?" Geralt was confused. What did she know and how did she even know anything at all?

"Yennefer? It appears songs have been sung about the two of you." She cocked her head. Neutral expression. "You know I've been reading in these books around here and, well, I assume you are familiar with their content," she answered when his confused stare intensified.

Geralt cursed Dandelion in his thoughts. "That was a long time ago. Most of what you read about her and me," he made a point of not saying 'us', "is from Dandelion, a poet who I happen to be friends with and who basically made a career out of my work and private life. If you knew him you'd agree that he greatly exaggerates always and everything. He creates something out of nothing. And most of the time that something is drama."

Kit silently nodded. He was not sure whether or not he had managed to convince her.

On the last day of August, they rode to Beauclair to attend the wine festival. Kit, despite all protests, had become more comfortable on Roach. Geralt considered finding her her own horse but he had a feeling that this well-intended gift would be received about as well as a death threat. On top of that, he enjoyed being so close to her while they were both sitting on Roach's back. For how openly she was flirting with him sometimes, they had very little physical contact. A fact that Geralt had been lamenting about internally ever since she had washed his hair. But she had bigger fish to fry, he reminded himself. And possibly believed he was already spoken for.

"Are we not going to pick up our, what was it, 'appropriate attire' from your tailor?" Kit asked when they crossed the bridge to the palace.

"Our things are already waiting for us in there." Geralt nodded at the magnificent feat of architecture in front of them. The palace was made up of seemingly endless delicate towers, spanning several levels, connected by ornate arches that looked sophisticated and fragile. The light-colored brick reflected the sunlight so that the palace appeared to be shining.

"Being Anna Henrietta's guard means we get to spend the night in the palace." He dismounted Roach and offered his hands to Kit to help her as well. "Now you finally get the chance to see it. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Kit's face lightened up. "This is very exciting! But also quite generous of her considering you don't live that far away."

Geralt shrugged. "The local vampires enjoy the blood of drunk people which can be a bit of a nuisance if you have a hole congregation of these drunk snacks. It's safer this way."

Geralt had picked up the concept of 'snacks' from Kit and liked it a lot. Just a few days ago she had made her current favorite, exploding corn, for them. Kit, Marlene the cook, and Geralt had been standing in the kitchen where Kit had placed a pot with a little oil on the stove and then added some dried corn. Kit had said it would have been more fun had the pot had a glass lid which Marlene had called a silly idea. That was until the first kernel had exploded with an audible 'pop' and jumped out of the pot, missing Marlene by just a bit. She had let out a shocked scream that had made Kit giggle before she placed a lid onto the pot. After that a few minutes of muted popping sounds had followed and in the end the pot had been full of little white things, that looked nothing like corn. But it turned out that once they were covered with sugar and salt, they tasted rather interesting.

"Do you blow up all your food where you come from?" Geralt asked Kit, eyeing the curiously shaped corn.

"You talk about vampires as if they are no more annoying than mosquitoes," Kit interrupted his thoughts while she stared at him incredulously.

"Well, vampires are easier to swat if they come too close." A half-smile spread across Geralt's face when he saw how Kit shook her head in disbelief.

"If that's not a positive attitude towards things, then I don't know what is," she mumbled.

After their arrival had been announced, a valet came to pick them up and showed them to their room.

"This is gorgeous!" Kit exclaimed while turning her head in all directions. Geralt was less impressed since he was already familiar with the palace. But even he could appreciate the luxurious high ceilings and the double winged doors that led to a small balcony which overlooked the city. The view was rather spectacular.

The room contained a large four-poster bed and a big tub that would be filled at his command. Plush carpets, tasteful furniture and thick curtains gave the room a feeling of coziness. A floor-length mirror catered to the vanity of the occupant.

Geralt sat down on a chaise lounge next to the bed to massage his leg and knee.

"Are you okay?" Kit tried to sound unbothered but he could hear a little worry in her voice.
"Yes, but it's going to rain. I have this old injury which is fairly reliable when it comes to predicting weather changes."

"Huh." Geralt followed Kit's gaze to the balcony. "There is not one cloud in the sky. Are you sure your knee got the weather report right?"

"You'll see." His knee was always right.

In the afternoon they got ready for the festival. A lady's maid, wearing a burgundy apron and gloves over her white garments, the typical Toussaint festival attire of the servants, was called to help Kit with her dress. Kit cursed about the absence of something called 'zippers' while Adelaide, the maid, helped her to fasten the laces at the back of the dress. "Seriously though, with a zipper this would have taken five seconds and I wouldn't have needed any help."

When she finally showed herself, Geralt stared at her and did not even bother to hide it. Her strapless dress revealed a beautiful long neck that practically begged to be kissed, as well as a pair of delicate shoulders. The dark red of the dress contrasted beautifully with her rosy pale skin. While he understood nothing when it came to fashion, he could tell that the simple dress, no ruffles, no pearls, no embroidery of any sort, was perfect for her. When she took a few steps towards Geralt, he saw how the fabric of the skirt flared out and moved so very differently from the heavy dresses that were usually worn in Toussaint. He took her hand and slowly spun her around. The bodice wrapped itself around her small waist just like it should and below that the skirt, probably made from silk he thought, unfolded its magic. A thin scarf from the same material was slung around her neck and fell down her back.

"You look ravishing," he complemented her earnestly.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replied while she picked at his tunic to straighten it out in all the right places, smiling and blushing.

"Next to you I feel even sillier than I usually do." He tugged at the collar of his tunic.

"Believe me, you don't. The problem is, that these clothes are made for weak men to hide behind and make them look dignified. But you are not weak. This is just not a good fit for muscular men. But," she smiled encouragingly, "you'll still be the best looking one out there."

Before Geralt could reply, she had moved towards the door, the skirt of her dress billowing out. "Are you coming? Or do I have to find my way through this labyrinth alone?"

She is killing me, he thought.

They made their way to an internal courtyard where the festivities would commence. The high walls, covered by ivy, protected them from any undesired onlookers. A buffet had been set up and cups of wine were handed out while musicians played in the background. Everything was decorated with vast, colorful flower arrangements, flags, banners and garlands. At one end of the yard a stage had been set up. It was empty besides a low wooden tub.

More and more people flooded in, the murmur continually grew louder. Nobody took any particular notice of them, safe for a few people who whispered about the White Wolf.

At the sound of the fanfare all guests went silent immediately.

The festival started with the same ceremony every year during which Anna Henrietta herself was lifted into a wooden tub and started pressing the first grapes of the season with her feet. Geralt, who had seen this ceremony times and times again, could not be bothered and instead looked around, pretending to search for threats that were not there, while Kit mouthed her disappointment.

"I thought the Duchess was going to wear something regal and fancy. But it's just a white dress. More of a nightgown actually," she commented while pulling a face.

"Don't worry," Geralt assured her, "she will change afterwards and you'll get to see her – heavy dress, crown and all."

After an appropriate amount of grape tormenting had been committed, a handsome young lad lifted the Duchess out of the tub. The crowd dispersed, only a few stayed behind after Anna Henrietta had left.

"I don't know what I expected. But that wasn't it."

"Don't be so hasty, it has barely begun." Geralt grabbed a cup of wine. "The real fun starts in the evening in the gardens."

"If you say so," Kit replied with her mouth full of hors-d'oeuvres. Geralt smiled.

"What?" she asked holding a hand in front of her mouth.

"Leave some space for the real food."

"There will be more?" Kit's eyes shone and Geralt, for once, laughed out loud. For all the problems she brought with her, he found her to be quite refreshing sometimes. She was the living embodiment of the table manners that Geralt himself was severely lacking in and that Yennefer had always scolded him for. High society all of a sudden seemed to be much more agreeable to him.

Geralt showed Kit around the palace, as far as he was allowed.

"It is so strange to see a place like this full of life. In my world you can visit old castles and palaces but nobody is actually living there anymore. And you can't move freely - there are pathways you have to stick to and you can't touch anything. Sometimes not even the floor."

"Why?" Geralt found it hard to imagine that a building as rich and splendid as this would not have anybody living in it.

"Well, to preserve everything for future generations. So they can have a glimpse into the past, too. You usually have to pay an entrance fee as well. The money is used for the upkeep of the building. If nobody cared for them, they would all fall apart pretty quickly." Geralt thought of all the old elven-ruins and concluded that what they did in Kit's world, was a pretty smart thing. Or it would be, if elves were less hated and people actually cared about their heritage.

The sun was already starting to set when they went out into the gardens. It was still warm but unlike all those days before, a noticeable breeze was stirring the air. The light fabric of Kit's dress danced around her and drew quite a few glances from other festival visitors. Some of Geralt's acquaintances chatted them up, amongst them Guillaume de Launfal.

"Geralt, old friend!" he exclaimed and greeted him with a hug. "What a pleasure it is to see you."

"Guillaume, it has been a while. Still not growing feathers I hope?"

Guillaume laughed heartily. "Feather free and still in love! My Vivienne and I could not be happier. I will always be grateful to you for that. We even have another egg on the way, so to speak. But I see you sought companionship for yourself. The fair lady in that peculiar red dress that everyone is talking about." Geralt glanced over to a bench that Kit had excused herself to a moment ago, when Geralt had offered to get them some drinks. Two women, most certainly ladies of Anna Henrietta's court, had approached her.

"Will we be seeing her more often in the future?" the knight-errand asked.

"Mh," Geralt responded.

When he returned to Kit she was surrounded by a flock of women. The conversation immediately died down when the witcher approached and the group dispersed giggling. A perky brunette winked at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"Oh, you don't want to know." A telltale blush spread across her cheeks.

"Actually, I do." He sat down next to her, adjusting his posture so that he faced her, once again wondering what was going on in her mind. He handed her a cup of wine that she took a sip from before she started talking.

"Uh… They were mostly asking about the dress. Where I'm from and if people there always dress like this."

"And…?" Geralt could tell there was more.

"They were asking about, how can I put this politely? Our… relation?"

Geralt rolled his eyes. "They asked whether or not we fuck, didn't they?"

"Precisely that." Kit sighed, playing with the fabric of her dress to avoid looking Geralt in the eyes. "People here have no boundaries."

"The concept of personal boundaries is reserved for humans, mutants don't get to enjoy that privilege," Geralt rumbled. "Saving lives is not enough to be awarded basic dignity." He sighed, trying his best to push down his anger. "What did you tell them anyway?"

"Just that I am a visitor, nothing more."

Geralt looked very unhappy.

"What? Was I supposed to say something else? If so, you need to give me a heads-up next time."

"No, of course not."

"But?"

Geralt moved his shoulders to ease the tension that built up whenever he wore something uncomfortable.

"You said it yourself, that people stare at me all the time. But you haven't seen the way some women like to holler at me, thinking I'm eager to share their bed. At some point rumors started spreading about my…" He went quiet and scratched his head, not sure how to present the ongoing discussion people had about his sexual prowess and the shape, form and general function of his genitals in an acceptable way. He just vaguely pointed at the middle of his body. Luckily, Kit seemed to understand what was going on as her eyes widened in shock.

"Ah, shit. You are being sexually harassed and I just announced that you are fair game," she concluded. Geralt leant back against the bench and stared at the sky.

"I'm so sorry, I swear, I had no idea that was even a thing here." She crouched, her hands folded over her mouth.

"It gets worse when they are drunk. So much worse. Last time a woman threw herself at me but I can't just deny her like any normal man, can I? I use too much force and then it'll be: The witcher hurt her, assaulted her! And if it's my word against hers – guess who they'll believe? I've never had a real home but I made one here. I don't want to risk losing it or my head for that matter."

Kit looked horrified. "I'm so sorry, I wish I had known. I just assumed it was all fun and games and, most of all, consensual."

He shook his head. "It's okay. It's not your responsibility to look after me. But I was hoping that, coming here with you, people would make assumptions and leave us alone. Just so that I get to have an evening where I don't have to tiptoe around everybody so much. It's exhausting."

For a moment Kit seemed to be deep in thoughts. "So, you think they would have bought the idea of us as, I don't know, a couple?"

"Why wouldn't they?" he wondered.

"Being as popular as you are, I just figured you'd chose someone special, someone sophisticated or beautiful or whatever, and not someone like me." She quickly mumbled the last part of the sentence and shrugged her shoulders.

"You think you are not beautiful?" Geralt was surprised by this revelation since he had long decided that she was so much more interesting than any other woman.

"In my personal opinion I'm perfectly fine. But, as a rule of thumb, people don't necessarily share my opinion. I was not exactly popular with men in my world, so that probably says it all."

Geralt nodded. "Yes, indeed. It says a lot about what fools these men are." She looked at him, surprise displayed on her face. Geralt had often cursed his enhanced vision as it made it so much easier to spot the aesthetic flaws of others. Her face was not quite symmetrical and a little angular, the upper lip too thin to match the lower one and her nose was a little crooked. But the eyes, hidden under naturally thick and black lashes, drew him in, always. Long legs, exquisitely thin ankles that seemed far too fragile, and a beautiful smile – there was so much beauty there. In fact, under normal circumstances, he was certain she would never even have taken notice of him. While it was true that he was admired, it was not for his persona. The witcher had become a sexual fetish; none of the women were interested in more than one night with him. He was merely a thing to be used once and discarded afterwards.

"And besides, I value you for more than your looks. You are smart and kind and that is not something that I can say about most people here." His voice sounded a little rougher to him than it usually did. Kit stared at him while he could hear that her heart had started to beat wildly. He wondered if he had said too much when she did not respond.

"Geralt, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she finally replied, eyes a little watery. "I honestly can't quite believe that you actually mean that." She shuddered a little. "But if you do, and if you want to… You are in luck. We can still make this work, way past just assumptions." She got up and waited for him to take her hand. She seemed to be an entirely different person all of a sudden, radiating more confidence than ever before.

"Do you trust me?" she asked a visibly confused witcher.

"Is this going to be one of those instances where I say yes and then you do something that you are not qualified to do and warn me about it only when we're right in the middle of it?"

"Oh no, I'm so very qualified this time. But it's all depending on you. You have to convince them, I can only guide you."

"Okay then…," he agreed hesitantly, still not sure what he was expected to do.

Smiling, she announced for everybody in the vicinity to hear: "My love, dance with me!" Much quieter she instructed him: "Just play along."

"What?" Geralt had not quite comprehended, when she tugged at this arm to get up. "I'm not a dancer," he protested when Kit hooked her arm to his and guided him to a lower terrace where musicians were playing and several people were dancing already. A pleasant feeling started to spread throughout his body nevertheless.

"Neither am I, even though I have seen you dance and it was rather impressive. But we will do it like we do in my world – which is to say no real dancing. And for the purpose we want to achieve, that will be enough."

Geralt's confusion increased. "Whenever did you see me dance?"

"Well, I assume you'd call it fighting but the way you did it, it really was just dancing with a sword. I admit it would have looked better if you hadn't chosen a ghoul as your dancing partner."

"Not sure if you recall but that decision wasn't up to me."

Kit placed them right in the middle between the other couples, so everybody would see them. Geralt felt rather uneasy.

"Now," she whispered while she took his hands and guided them, in slow and deliberate movements, onto her lower back, much lower than appropriate, "you keep your hands on my body, make sure it's not too PG-13, don't have them rest too high up. And look me in the eyes." Her hands felt their way over his chest, carefully, slowly, not breaking their eye contact, before they came to a rest behind his neck, causing the familiar prickling feeling on his skin. "And now just sway," she ordered silently, only for him to hear, while she nestled her body against his.

Geralt was lost for words. Was he finally getting what he wanted? The feeling of her hands in his neck, of her body against his, thrilled him.

They swayed and swayed, Kit nuzzled her face to his throat, kept one hand at the back of his neck while she rested the other one on his firm chest. Geralt felt his knees give in ever so slightly whenever her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of this throat, sending waves of heat through his body.

At some point the musicians had even started to accommodate their slow movements. Geralt relished the warmth Kit emanated, pressed his face closer to her head so he could feel her, absorb her smell. One of her hands had started to move on his chest, exploring freely. Among the chaste, distant dancing of the others, this felt nearly obscene.

"Is dancing in your world always so… physical?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"You have no idea. There are forms of dancing that, if we did this here, I think some people would end up with heart attacks."

"You'll have to show me at some point, I can handle a heart attack."

"Maybe… sometime," she chuckled.

Geralt took a cue from Kit and moved one hand up and down her back and sides while the other rested at her lower back in a way that was just barely still acceptable.

Eventually their song came to an end. Kit whispered, her lips pressed to Geralt's ear: "It's up to you now. Do it if you want to, or just take my hand and lead me away like that's been your plan all along. Whatever you do, do it with determination. You have to convince your audience." She moved a small step away from him, her hands still resting on his chest, and looked at him expectantly.

The environment around Geralt went dull, his heightened senses failed him. The talk and the music barely reached his ears anymore. Whether it was freezing cold or scorching hot – he would not have been able to tell in that very moment. He was not sure for how long he gazed into these deep blue eyes, before he finally lowered himself to kiss her. And he did it with determination. Because he liked to listen to good advice.

Soft lips opened up to him, warmth flooded his entire body. If it had been able to, his heart would have beaten out of his chest. He pulled her as close as he possibly could, held her as tight as he would dare while his body, pressed against hers, seemingly dissolved in her arms. Her hands enclosed his face as if she wanted to pull him even closer. He could feel himself tremble ever so slightly, the sensation of her touches nearly overwhelming him.

When Kit finally withdrew, he could not tell how long it had been. With blushed cheeks she looked at him before she whispered: "That was very… convincing. Now, take my hand, only look at me and then let's leave."

Geralt listened and followed her orders to the point as his own brain was not yet ready to operate again.