ELEVEN | EXPOSED
The next week came quicker that Caira could process. The bard—Jaskier—had been tagging along with the two hunters once again and began singing songs that caused local townsfolk to request their services quite often. Geralt and Caira were growing in popularity due to their efficiency and haste when performing the tasks they were paid for.
On this particular day, Geralt and Caira had just finished slaying a selkiemore. The beast had swallowed Geralt and Caira whole, but, using their swords, they managed to slice their way out of its belly, killing it immediately. For Geralt, it was a breeze, but to Caira, holding her breath for that long was quite exhausting and in the moment made her panic. She took note to herself to return to her stealthy approaches to kill the monsters rather than try to keep up with Geralt.
Caira and Geralt were covered in a thick, sticky layer of putrid selkiemore guts. It was disgusting and Caira was gagging the entire way back to the pub where they were to collect their coin. "Afraid to get a little dirty, huh?" Geralt teased her as she had her arms out and her head turned away from her body.
"I can feel my nose hairs burning." She coughed, exaggeratedly.
Upon entering the pub, Geralt and Caira were met with shocked faces of the townspeople in the tavern. They looked like they had seen ghosts. At the same time, everyone covered their noses once the stench of the selkiemore guts reached their nostrils. Jaskier chuckled at the sight of everyone's shocked faces. "What's that stench?" The man that owed the two money held his breath as he spoke, if that were even possible.
"Selkiemore guts." Geralt responded. "Had to get it from the inside. We'll take what we're owed."
"Toss a coin to your witcher
O, Valley of Plenty—" Jaskier began to sing, hoping the song would eventually catch on.
The man quickly tossed Geralt the large sack of coins, and he caught it with much ease.
"Toss a coin to the rogue one,
A friend of humanity—" Jaskier continued singing, then everyone in the tavern began to join. Geralt didn't seem impressed by the sight of dozens of men and woman singing such a horrible song, then walked over to the bar top to order an ale. Caira followed pursuit, feeling the need to intoxicate herself in order to forget about the disgusting layer of guts sitting on top of her clothes and skin.
Once the song was over, everyone cheered and Jaskier followed Geralt over to the bar. "You're welcome. And now, you two, it's time to repay your debt." Jaskier spoke as the bartender slide two ales toward Geralt and Caira.
Caira took a big gulp of her ale. "'What debt?' you're probably asking, well, I'll tell you. I've made you two famous. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I'm asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor." Jaskier continued speaking as the bartender handed Geralt a large plate of food.
"Fuck off, bard." Geralt lowly told Jaskier.
"For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of—" Geralt grabbed his sword and left as Jaskier poetically spoke.
Caira placed her filthy hand on Jaskier's shoulder. "You might want to try again." She suggested.
* * *
Caira cleaned herself up in that evening, leaving Jaskier and Geralt to speak alone for a bit to convince him to help. Jaskier needed their help to essentially be his bodyguards for the night—he was hired by Queen Calanthe of Cintra to perform bard-like things and various lords that would be attending the betrothal feast of Princess Pavetta had a bone to pick with Jaskier—more like, they wanted to kill him and use his bones to pick their teeth.
Once she was done getting dressed in her typical clothes, she returned to speak with Geralt and Jaskier in the quarters they were sharing there in Cintra. Upon seeing Geralt, Caira's jaw dropped. She began snickering at him uncontrollably. He was in a ridiculous, formal outfit—as if he were some kind of special lord. "What the fuck is that?" She flicked the collar of the flamboyant outfit Geralt was wearing. He rolled his eyes. He already was pissed he had to wear it, and Caira's mocking wasn't helping.
Suddenly, Jaskier reached into a trunk he brought into the room and pulled out an elegant dress. He clicked his tongue at her. "You didn't think you were wearing that to the feast, were you?" He tossed her the dress.
Caira scoffed, shocked he had planned an outfit for her as well. "Look who's laughing now." Geralt hummed in satisfaction of her instant karma.
She pursed her lips and headed back to the bathroom to change, slipping on the unnecessarily extravagant dress with an uncomfortable corset attached. "Jaskier!!" She shouted once the dress was thrown over her body.
He came rushing in, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the nude—but unfortunately she was already almost completely dressed. "Yes?" He attended to her.
"The corset." She groaned, her teeth clenched shut. He shyly smiled at her and proceeded to tighten the laces that were used to cinch her waist into the dress. "Just thought I'd mention that Geralt—when I was rubbing chamomile on his lovely bottom," Jaskier caused Caira to crack a smile at the imagery, "he said he needed no one. But, we both know he's a liar. Why do you think he asked for you to continue working with him? He needs you." Jaskier told her as he tied the lace on the dress.
Caira bit her lip, thinking about Jaskier's words. She recalled the moment they nearly shared a kiss back in Temeria, and she questioned whether she could allow herself to fall for someone so cold and so brute.
* * *
Upon seeing Caira in the lovely dress, Geralt had to turn his eyes away from her to avoid having heat rush to his cheeks. She was absolutely beautiful in the finery, it was unfair. Caira cleared her throat and held out her arm so that she could loop it around Geralt's as he was to be her companion for the night, so they'd blend in with the other noble men and woman at the betrothal. "Give me your arm, or else my feet might just give out in these heels." She groaned.
Geralt took a peek at her from the corner of his eyes and held out his bicep for her to grab. Her arm was awkwardly held high, as Geralt was gargantuan beside her small frame. With her spare hand, Caira smoothed out her raven hair, then turned to Geralt. "How do I look?" She asked, hoping to pass a lady despite her brute mannerisms she'd taken up. The dress slipped on her like a glove, and with it, her proper manners which she hadn't had to use in so long. Though, it came naturally to her once she was rolled up.
"Fine." Geralt grumbled in his usual manner. He lied through his teeth. She looked absolutely beautiful. Her raven hair fell effortlessly down her bare back as the silk dress was cut right above her hips.
She eyed his outfit once more, this time refraining from mocking him and making sure he was properly outfitted for the event. "You look handsome, Geralt of Rivia." She complimented, gaining a small curl of the lip from the man.
The three proceeded to the castle and entered the ball room, where large dining tables were placed and a main table was set up at the front of the room, where the princess and queen were expected to take their seats. "Right, so stick close to me, look mean and pretend you're a mute. Can't have anyone finding out who you actually are." Jaskier whispered to the two as they graciously entered the hall.
Unfortunately for Jaskier, someone instantly recognized Geralt. And with a booming shout, called his name. "Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!" The man—Mousesack—an old friend of Geralt's.
Nearly everyone's heads in the room turned to look at the three. Murmurs of surprise echoed throughout the room. "Oh, shit." Jaskier felt himself shrink under the state's.
Mousesack approached Geralt, cheerful to catch up with his old friend. "I haven't seen you since the plague."
"Good times, Mousesack."
"I've missed your sour complexion. I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here, perhaps all is not lost—" Mousasack's eyes sunk down to take a glimpse at Geralt's clothes, "—Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?"
Geralt grimaced over at Jaskier. Caira slipped her arm away from Geralt's, removing the facade since their gig was up and Geralt had clearly been exposed as a Witcher. Mousesack quickly swooped Geralt away from Jaskier and Caira, leaving them to awkwardly stand in an empty space in the room. Caira frowned at Jaskier, unsure as to what to do then. However, trouble came their way just as their boredom struck. A short, stout man stomped up to Jaskier and placed his heavy hands on his shoulders in an angry manner. Jaskier backed up until he hit a wall. The man pointed a fat finger in his face and shook his ragingly. "Something about you reminds me of a scoundrel I once saw fleeing my wife's chambers!" The man accused.
Caira sighed, thinking to herself how much of a harlot Jaskier was. "Um—" Jaskier nervously spoke, his eyes pleading for Caira to save him.
"Drop your trousers! That pimply arse I'd remember anywhere!"
Caira hurried over and placed a gentle hand on to the short man's shoulder. Her sweet brown eyes stared right into his from below her long lashes. She deceived him with her sweet look and managed to calm his temper. "Forgive me, my lord. He has a face of any common coward. Unfortunately, this is not the man you're looking for. For, I was there the day he was kicked in the balls by an ox. It was a terribly sad day." Caira solemnly shook her head, receiving sympathy from the once seething lord.
"Apologies," the man dug in his pockets and plucked out a shiny coin, then tossed it to Jaskier, "drown your sorrows on me, eunuch." The man spoke with a shaky voice, then left the two be.
Suddenly, Geralt rejoined the two after having abandoned them for his old comrade. "You're on your own from here on. Try not to get any daggers in your back before dawn." Geralt shooed Jaskier while he resumed keeping Caira company.
He turned to look at her with a half smile, having enjoyed the story she put together to embarrass and save the bard all at once. His yellow eyes flickered up to her brown ones and lingered there for a moment until their silent observations of one another was interrupted by loud horns being blown to announce someone important's arrival. "All rise for Her Majesty, the Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra!" The courtier shouted loud enough for the chattering crowds could hear and silence themselves.
Queen Calanthe quickly entered the room, covered in dirt and blood—a true, honorable warrior—and still in her armor from battle. He tossed her helmet aside and grabbed a beer from one of her servants. She smiled and raised her drink, shouting: "Beer!" Gaining an approving cheer from her guests.
"Apologies, noble sirs. A few upstart townships in the south needed reminding who was Queen. I find it's good for one's blood and humors. Ready your suit's tales of glory, good lords. My daughter is eager to have this over with. As am I—" the Queen was explaining why she was so late, until she suddenly stopped speaking when her eyes—as they were scanning over her guests—landed on Caira.
"I wasn't expecting more nobility here tonight—a princess at that." Calanthe's dark eyes seemed to grow darker as her curiosity peaked upon seeing the young girl from Astoria she had heard so much about. Everyone looked around, confused as to who Calanthe was looking at and speaking to.
Caira felt her blood go cold. She froze in place and didn't know what to do. She knew this moment would have eventually occurred, but not in front of Geralt—not in front of so many people. "Princess Caira of Astoria, it is an honor to be in your presence—I have much reverence for your skills in combat, and your country's value in military."