*Unedited
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𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 Yen,
My time with Pavetta has been a breath of fresh air. The princess is not at all what I expected. She prefers quiet activities and being alone. However, we have grown to be good friends. We will spend our evenings listening to music and reading. Our days are filled with training and poetry.
The woman has progressed significantly. No matter her emotions, she is now quite capable of controlling her gifts. But she's not ready for me to depart as of yet. I agree. Unknowingly, her power radiates from her. It is but a mere taste, a scent on the wind. However, my worry will not settle until she has mastered even that.
As for your inquiries on why I am concerned for her safety, I cannot say. Just know that they are well-founded.
But what of your travels? I must know more about your journey across the Continent. Have you settled down yet?
I await your next letter.
Continue to stoke the fire in your soul,
Nessa.
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Geralt,
It has been some time since my last letter to you. Not much has changed since then. Considering Pavetta will go into labor soon, I expect to leave Cintra within a few more months at most. They wish for me to meet their child to determine if he or she will need training as well. Though, I do not know how they hope for me to know so early.
I bet you are wondering if my time off from monster hunting has resulted in me losing my edge. Fear not. Mousesack, Eist, Duny, and occasionally the Lioness herself help me practice. Dare I say that if any change has occurred it has been for the better? We will have to test that theory when I see you again.
Truly, I wish you were here. Duny, despite being a man of great honor, strikes a strange cord within me. He is not all that he seems. With your set of eyes, I am sure we would both uncover his secrets within no time at all.
Jaskier and I keep in contact. Fret not, the bard is well. He is still with the muse he met when we last saw one another. And do not spout nonsense about how you do not care. I know you better than that.
I wonder where you are now? What monsters have you slain in the past few months? I know you can handle yourself just fine but I am sure that you must miss the extra sword, not to mention my magic. Perhaps find the kindness to write back. Unless you can't read?
I don't not miss you.
Impatiently counting the days,
Nessa.
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Jaskier,
Cirilla is growing into a bright and troublesome little girl. She is still the spitting image of Pavetta. I sense no magic within her but that is to be expected this early. Despite Calanthe's arguments, I plan to stay a bit longer just to be sure. And do not remind me of Destiny. I am far too aware of it as is. Though, the strange thing is: I do not feel it binding me to this girl. Not yet anyway. There is a greater plan at work here, I know it. Just as I know when the time comes you will have plenty of content for your ballads.
Just as I told you in my last letter: no, the stubborn Witcher has yet to reply to a single communication. My poor raven, yes the new one is named Cáerme as well, despises attempting to find the man. But she always does. I must admit I am beginning to wonder why I attempt to write him at all.
But enough about me. What of you and your muse? I must hear everything.
As always, I have included my thoughts on your new ballad draft.
Never change,
Nessa.
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The s̶o̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶s̶e̶x̶, they often call it. Fairer sex. I really must question your opinion of women, Jaskier. Remind me to slap you when I see you next.
But her love's as unfair as a crook.
It steals all my reason, commits every m̶u̶t̶i̶n̶y̶. Treason.
Of logic with naught but a look
A storm raging on the horizon
Of longing and heartache and lust
She's always bad news, y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶e̶. It's always lose-lose
So tell me, love, tell me, love, how is that just?
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss
Her w̶e̶b̶ is pulling you closer. Current.
A charge in the hot, humid night
The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool
Better stay out of sight
I'm weak my love, and I am wanting
If this is the path I must trudge
I'll welcome my sentence, give to you my p̶e̶n̶i̶t̶e̶n̶c̶e̶. Penance.
Garroter, jury, and judge
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss, o-oh
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, o-o-o-o-oh
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss, o-oh
But the story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, o-o-o-o-oh
The story is this:
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss
You really were not subtle with this one, Jaskier. But when are you ever?
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Jaskier,
Pavetta and Duny are dead. Their ship sank in the Sedna Abyss. A part of me wonders if she knew. She was so adamant that Ciri and I remain in Cintra. But I will never know, will I?
It is time for me to say goodbye to this kingdom. Months have already turned into years. How silly of me to not realize, despite seeing the time pass by watching Ciri grow. Maybe Destiny is at work after all. I doubt the girl will remember me if we meet again, even if she may cry when I bid her farewell.
I realize this is for the best but a part of me does not wish to leave. Even Calanthe tried to insist I remain. I remind her of her daughter. We were the closest of friends, as you well know. But, ultimately, she needs her granddaughter, not me. Pavetta lives on through Ciri.
After the funeral, I will go in search of Geralt. Seeing as I have no idea where he is, I will start at Kaer Morhen. Perhaps I will get lucky? Though I doubt it. When I find him, I shall send a letter informing you of our location should you decide to join us. Give the Countess de Stael my best.
Never change,
Nessa.
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My hooded cloak is drawn low as I shove open the large doors leading into the main hall of Kaer Morhen. The sound and unexpected guest has every Witcher taking defensive positions. I dart my eyes around.
Wooden tables and benches border the length, two on each side. One forms a u-shape in the middle. A gnarled tree decorated with medallions stands tall at the other end, and a skylight above sends rays spiraling into the dusty room. Candelabras stand at each rectangular pillar along the sides of the hall. Further illumination is provided by oil lamps on the tables and a once-grand chandelier hanging in the middle of the spacious structure.
Among the handful of tense Witchers, I recognize a few faces but two white-haired men stand out the most.
I approach the group slowly, so as to not seem threatening. Though I know that Vesemir and Geralt have both caught my scent already.
The older man does not allow a smile so much as shift his mustache as he demands, "Remove the hood."
Ah, so he wants to jest in a room with men who would not hesitate to draw steel and silver? Two can play that game. I come to a halt when I am within a sword's length away. My voice is filled with mystery and a touch of humor, "But the hood is to obscure my vision. Saves me from having to stare at your ugly mug."
Despite my words, I can clearly see my friend.
"A lone woman entering Kaer Morhen without permission... You must be here for one of two reasons," Vesemir says with a suggestive quirk to his eyebrow, "If I give you some coin will you warm my bed? Or are you here for a fight, my lady?"
"You never learn," I respond as I remove my hood, "I am no lady. And I'm always looking for a fight."
Believing my reply to be a threat, the ringing of blades being drawn echoes around me. But all movement halts when Vesemir laughs loudly and pulls me into an embrace that I happily return.
The man slings an arm around my shoulders and gestures towards me, "This is my good friend, Nessa. She's older and far more experienced with a blade than you lot. Put those away before she chooses to hurt you for such 'rudeness.'"
I scoff and roll my eyes, "I would do no such thing."
His amber orbs narrow in my direction.
"Not to them," I mutter in defeat.
A chuckle answers me. Vesemir waves the others closer before introducing me to them all. Most mutter their names before leaving. However, four of them remain.
My friend gestures towards a man with curly red hair and beard, "That's Lambert."
The next Witcher is bald, revealing more smooth mocha-colored skin. He has one pale blue eye and one deep brown one, "That's Coen."
"That's Eskel. Be careful with that one, Nessa," Vesemir warns as he points at the man with wavy dirty blond hair half tied up in a bun and vibrant gray-blue eyes ringed with dark amber.
When he moves on to the last, I can tell he has no idea that we are already acquainted, "And that sulking mutt is Geralt."
"We know each other quite well, Vesemir," I smile at my former traveling companion, "It is good to see you again, Geralt."
He doesn't even hum back. Or grunt. Nothing.
I expected anger, not this... awkwardness.
Sensing that a subject change is required, Vesemir pats me on the back and releases me, "What have you brought with you this time?"
Eternally grateful.
I pull my drawstring pouch from my waistband and set it on the floor. As I release the strings, I reply, "A lot."
Vesemir explains to the men, "Whenever she visits, she always brings supplies with her."
Eskel jokes, "Must not be true this time, look at how small that bag is."
My lips curve into a smirk as I glance up at him, "Just watch."
I expand the top of the pack with a few tugs. Somehow, it widens to an unnaturally large area. The opening reveals intense darkness. I reach into the shadows and begin tossing random items onto the floor beside me. Soon enough, a pile of silver litters the ground along with herbs, weapons, and other useful things.
Finally, I bend down so my whole arm is engulfed. With a tug, I pull out a whole boar and effortlessly carry it to the long table near the fire.
My sensitive hearing catches Lambert's mutter, "That is some woman."
Geralt replies with a grunt that seems laced with a bit of ire. But without seeing the corresponding expression, I cannot really say for certain.
I spin around to tighten the pouch and place it back on my waistband. Vesemir smirks over at Eskel briefly before returning his attention to me, "You never cease to surprise me, Nessa."
I shrug and move to the boar to begin preparing it for roasting.
"That pouch is new."
The hand gripping my dagger pauses and I flit my eyes over to Geralt. I don't let my surprise keep me silent for too long, afraid he will change his mind about conversing with me, "I grew tired of having to keep track of my things. It's enchanted so that the inside is larger than the outside. That added with a bit of magic to summon the items I want."
Vesemir slinks over to plop onto the bench on the other side of the table I am at, "Would have been nice to have that when we traveled together. Remember when someone stole your sword and we went on a hunt for the thief? I almost felt bad for him when we caught him."
The others settle around the table as well, hoping to hear more about the newcomer no doubt.
My eyes narrow into a grimace, "Creating a new spell is no easy feat. Even though I adjusted one already in existence, the intricacies were time-consuming."
Geralt deadpans, "What is time for people like us? Months easily turn into years."
Ouch.
I avoid his gaze, attempting to seem focused on the task at hand, "That's fair."
Once again, Vesemir - my saving grace - breaks the obvious tension, "How do you know each other?"
So I retell the story of the basilisks. Right before I finish the tale, Geralt stands up and leaves the room.
"Fuck," I murmur before dropping my knife.
Vesemir just picks up the blade and says, "Ah, you haven't seen each other in quite some time. Why don't you both catch up without us to distract you."
"Yes. I think we will," I nod before smiling at the others, "It was lovely meeting you. I promise to tell you more at dinner."
Then without another word, I follow the scent of leather, amber, and warm spice. It leads me to a closed wooden door. To my surprise, it's unlocked. Maybe the Rivian needs this conversation as much as I do.
I find him sitting on the bed, as though waiting for me. His words make it seem otherwise, "Get out."
Ignoring him, I saunter over to the desk and spin the chair around so that I can sit facing the man. I swipe a hand behind me to seal the entrance shut with a spell, "I think not. We aren't leaving this room until we clear the air."
"Fuck off, Nessa."
"Just listen to me," I sigh and lean forward, "In a sense, Pavetta and I are... were related. She and I were burdened with extraordinary magic. It was my responsibility to help her. No other Source, not even Mousesack, could have understood her gifts as I could."
Geralt's face and voice remain emotionless, "Pavetta is dead?"
I glance away from him and rub the star on my forehead, "Yes. She and Duny died at sea."
Silence settles over us once more.
The Witcher breaks it first. He gently asks, "You cared about her?"
I nod and lock my eyes on his, "Yes. She truly did remind me of the other special Source I loved once upon a time."
"I'm sorry."
"I am too," I whisper, "But I do not regret staying behind to help. Please understand that I was not running from you. It's just... in my long life, I have loved and lost countless people. When I find someone that reminds me of those I mourn-"
"You must aid them," The White Wolf gently interrupts. When I stiffly shake my head yes, he inquires, "How much have you lost, Ness?"
"Everything," my eyes grow misty but I refuse to let the tears fall, "Everyone."
Jaskier's advice spurs my next actions. I pull out my sword and stroke the lily, "His name was Alzur. This was one of the very first Witcher medallions in existence. In a way, it was my drive to protect the Continent from monsters that led to your creation."
I chuckle a bit at his amazed expression before growing somber, "It was not his famed Double Cross that was instrumental in the victory of Adalbert of Maribor in the War of Daggers. No, it was me. I unleashed my full power to protect the man I loved."
"How did he die?"
I sheathe my blade with trembling hands, "I had to leave him. That kind of display of Chaos drew the attention of those I run from. He visited me often but... since my actions in Ellander, he did not once ask me for magical assistance. He died using his Double Cross to summon a massive uncontrollable viy in the city of Malibor."
"It destroyed me," I murmur, "And it was Pavetta's ancestor that helped me heal. Only for her to die without me at her side."
My voice is louder now but rushed with the emotions spilling from me, "Next it was Falka. I tried to dissuade her from her path but well... we all know how that ended."
"Then there was the kind Princess Adela," I say with warmth entwined in my words. "She was the light to the darkness that Falka spawned in me. We helped the priests in the hospitals of Vizima during the outbreak of the Black Death. Adela died, leaving me to continue her work."
I hold out my palms, allowing magic to pool within them, "Do you see the pattern yet, Geralt? I love. I help. I mourn. Always alone."
Blue light tumbles through my fingers like sand.
The white-haired man says nothing but he stands and kneels down to look at me. Gold clash with emerald.
His large palm reaches out to cup my cheek, an easy feat considering, even while on his knees, the man's shoulders align with mine. Geralt's expression is startlingly soft as he whispers, "You won't lose me."
"One day I will."
He shakes his head as though that was the most idiotic statement I have ever spouted, "We all die. What matters is what you do with your time. Did you regret Alzur, Falka, Adela, and Pavetta?"
"Never."
His eyebrows furrow, "Then what's stopping you now?"
I open and close my mouth before swallowing, "I don't know."
"Fuck it all."
Geralt's grip tightens and he pulls my face down to his. He slams his lips onto my own. And in that moment, I know that I'm lost. Truly, utterly, lost.
But I find myself again in this kiss.
My body moves with a mind of its own. I slide off the chair to wrap my legs around the Witcher's waist. Hands entangle in his snowy hair. The man holds me to him tightly as he rises. I barely register feeling the bedding hit my back as I pull him impossibly close.
He moves on top of me, but with pressure from both hands, he forbids me from changing positions. With a light but decisive movement of my hips, I demand a response.
He responds. Geralt's skin is warm and rough with scars, matching my own. His eyes, glimpsed when his face comes close for another searing kiss, are heavy-lidded and dark like honey.
We rock against one another and sink into a seething sea of lilies, lightning, and leather as it grows agitated and turbulent.
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*See, I didn't make you guys wait long for their reunion.
*A lot more about Nessa's past and finally they sort of admit their feelings for one another
*Thoughts? Opinions?
*Predictions?
*Toss a vote to your Witcher