The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Fifty-Four

Lan Exeter, 1251

Robin reclined in front of the fire, wearing only Geralt's shirt. The witcher was still in bed, naked and wrapped in the sheet, sleeping soundly.

She had the bestiary in her lap. For years, she'd put off reading the rest of it since nothing she'd found so far had seemed important. She'd also been busy with her training. But she'd finally gotten back to it just to be thorough.

And she was shocked at what she'd found hidden deep at the back of the book. It was just a few paragraphs, but it seemed uncanny.

Considering her doubts about the existence of destiny and fate, she wasn't sure she should put too much stock in it, but she also didn't feel like she could ignore it.

She looked up as Jaskier came into the room with a tray of food. He paused when he saw the look on her face. "What's going on?" he asked, glancing at the bed. "Is it Geralt?"

The witcher grunted and sat up, brushing his hair back from his face. "Is what me?" he wondered.

He tilted his head worriedly as he looked at Robin too. "What's wrong, little mage?"

"Both of you come sit with me," she requested.

Jaskier came over, settling in by the fire and putting the tray down. Robin immediately reached for the olives. Jaskier chuckled and began to cut into the roast chicken as Geralt got up to join them, wrapping the sheet around his waist so he stayed decent.

She put her hands on the bestiary and began without any kind of introduction. "I finally finished reading this."

"Did you find the secret that awful man was hiding?" Jaskier inquired. "Or what Yennefer might have wanted with it?"

Robin shook her head. "No. As far as I can tell, it's just an old, rare collection of myths and legends about creatures. Many of which are now extinct, or haven't been seen in so long that they might as well be. Hardly useful information for a mage to have, really."

"But?" Geralt prompted her, ignoring the food for the moment. "You obviously found something."

"It only means anything to the three of us, but yes, I did."

She held out the book to show them the page and the illustration that went with it. It was a white wolf standing on a pile of skulls that belonged to every kind of creature one could imagine.

"Gruesome," Jaskier observed. "I can't read that language. What does it say?"

"It's an old dialect often used only between mages," Robin explained. "It says it's an old prophecy, the Legend of the White Werewolf."

"White Werewolf," Jaskier echoed. "Perilously close to Geralt's nickname."

She nodded. "It describes a werewolf that transforms from a man into a white wolf," she continued. "Sound like anyone we know?"

She raised an eyebrow at Geralt pointedly and he shrugged.

"And what is this white werewolf supposed to do?" Jaskier pressed.

"Unite all monsters in a fight for their own survival, which ultimately leads to a better world for all. Very vague, I know, but that's what it says."

"Fate again?" Geralt growled.

"I know neither of us believe in it, Geralt," Robin countered. "But it doesn't seem possible that it's a coincidence. I'm not saying it's your destiny. Maybe it's just indicative of what you're capable of. This doesn't say that you have any special powers or anything that will make this happen."

The witcher pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I'm just very tired of fate," he confessed.

"Because of one little Child of Surprise, Geralt?" Jaskier teased. "That's all it took?"

Geralt sighed. It wasn't just that, of course, but he could hardly admit it to either of them.

Jaskier decided to take pity on the witcher. "If there's nothing important in it, why did your master keep it such a secret, then? And why did Yennefer want it?"

"Well, he probably lied," Robin reasoned. "He finally had something someone wanted, and I can only assume he'd want to take advantage of that. And if Yennefer didn't know exactly what was in it, she might have thought it was valuable when it wasn't, or thought that maybe she'd see something in it that Melcedem didn't."

"It's not enchanted, is it?" Geralt suggested.

Robin shook her head. "I checked it thoroughly. Nothing hidden or anything like that."

"So it started this whole thing and it's a dead end? That hardly seems fair," Jaskier pointed out.

Robin shut the book and set it aside. "Apparently, regardless of fairness."

Geralt pulled her back against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "I don't mind what it started, so let's call it a win," he decided. "You need to eat something, little mage."

"I ate a few olives," she protested.

"Fine," he chuckled. "You need to eat more, then."

She rolled her eyes, then obligingly dug into the meal Jaskier had brought.

Geralt ate sparingly for once. He was distracted. Fate just wouldn't leave him alone, it seemed. And every time it dropped a new thread into his lap, it was something he didn't want.

He didn't want a child. He didn't want to be the world's hero. All he wanted was the woman currently in his arms.

But she was the one thing fate wouldn't give him. And as glad as he was about that for her sake, it certainly didn't make his outlook on the future any better.