The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Seventy

Temple of Melitele, 1261

After breakfast, Nenneke invited them both to the gardens. She sent Robin on an errand first so she could talk to Geralt alone for a moment.

The witcher perched on a rock and waited for Nenneke to speak. She merely stared at him for a moment, hoping that he would start the conversation himself.

He raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head, prompting her to sigh. "You've changed, Geralt," she began begrudgingly.

He chuckled. "Hardly, Nenneke. I'm the same witcher I've always been."

"You're not," she protested. "The mage has affected you."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean that everything has a price, Geralt," Nenneke explained. "Your life was taking a toll on you, but you seem... restored since the last time we spoke many years ago. You were always a good person, Geralt, but it was becoming more difficult for you. Now it appears to be fairly effortless."

"What's your point?" he wondered.

"It's just nice to see you believe in something, is all."

Geralt decided to humor her. "And what do I believe in, exactly?"

"Her love for you, obviously."

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Robin and I have a physical relationship, yes, but we are just traveling companions. We crossed paths and found that our aims were similar, and we have decided to remain together until those aims are realized."

"Oh, please, Geralt," Nenneke huffed. "Do you think I'm blind? Or stupid?"

"Not at all," the witcher assured her.

"And yet you risked your life for hers. And her brother's. Why?"

Geralt shrugged. "It was purposeful. I knew I could survive the assault. She couldn't, nor could he."

"You're saying you'd do that for anyone, then?" she asked casually.

Geralt smirked. "Stop trying to get me to admit to something, Nenneke. You're reading into it far too much. Everyone always does."

Nenneke straightened and stared at Geralt. "You may be able to lie to almost everyone else, Geralt, but you can't lie to me," she reminded him quietly.

He stared at her, his jaw set. "I have nothing to lie about," he insisted.

She raised an eyebrow at him. A lesser man would have squirmed under her gaze. Geralt merely looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm a witcher, Nenneke," he whispered. "That makes me wholly unsuitable for any other kind of life. The hormones, the herbs, the infections, the experiments, the training..."

"Robbed you of something fundamental, I know."

Nenneke was one of the few people who wasn't a witcher who knew exactly what a man went through to become one.

"And she gave it back to you," Nenneke persisted. "I'd like to know how."

Geralt found himself weighing his options. He very seldom spoke of his feelings. He'd become an expert at keeping them to himself, he felt, ever since meeting Robin, since he couldn't risk her discovering the true depth of his desire for her.

But maybe, if he unburdened himself just a little, it would be easier to keep his secrets.

"You know the story of my first monster," he relented, his voice pitched low, his eyes cast firmly to the ground.