That night, I was woken up by a whisper. A whisper of a name. It came from my husband next to me. Renfri. He was repeating this name over and over, tossing and turning in his sleep. I contemplated if I should wake him or not, not knowing which was worse.
"Geralt," I whispered.
No reaction. I whispered again. Still nothing. I put my hands on his cheeks, trying to hold at least his head still.
"Renfri."
With this whisper, his eyes shot open and he grabbed my wrists, turning us around, pinning me down. I could see it in his eyes, even through the darkness: he was disoriented. He didn't know where he was, who I was; at least not for a second. He had been there. He had been in Blaviken. At least in his mind.
"Geralt," I whispered again. Something shifted in his eyes. Realization.
He let go of my wrists and slumped down to his side next to me, not daring to look at me as he whispered a rushed apology.
"Fuck, Nienna, I'm sorry," he rasped, "Please, forgive me."
Shaking my head and smiling sympathetically, I turned to face him, putting a gently hand on his jaw.
"There is nothing to forgive, minne. I probably shouldn't have woken you up... You were there, were you? In Blaviken?"
His silence was answer enough, while his eyes told stories.
"You want to talk about it?"
Again, silence.
"You never told me about her... Renfri. You loved her, didn't you?"
Now his expression became pained.
"I love you now, that's all that matters," he muttered dryly.
"I know you do, minne," I whispered, kissing the corner of his lips, "But she still means something to you. Please tell me, maybe it'll help with the nightmares."
Geralt scoffed, but after a minute or two, he started talking. "It's not that I dream about her... but about what she had said to me."
I was silent, waiting for him to continue.
"'The girl in the woods will be with you always, she's your destiny.' At first I thought it was about you, but the dreams didn't stop after we met. They didn't stop when we met Triss in the woods. I have no idea what she meant by that and it's driving me crazy every time I dream about it."
I nodded. "Tell me about her. What did really happen?"
The pain in his eyes worsened and I caressed his cheek with the pad of my thumb.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Let me see it," I soothed.
He nodded, but he didn't look happy.And then I saw it.
He had arrived in Blaviken, the people there were hostile towards him the second he entered the tavern, only this girl, barely 18 had been nice to him.
I understood why he was drawn to her from the beginning – even though he'd never admit it, my husband was like a lost puppy, ready to fall for everybody who showed him a little affection.
A wizard wanted to hire him to kill a woman he believed to be a monster; Geralt refused. He met the girl from the tavern again, Renfri, and she told him what had happened to her, that she wanted to kill the old wizard, who was responsible for her fate. Geralt also refused her.
I felt that he felt sorry for her, that she had a choice not to be what was made out of her, to triumph over her abusers, but she didn't see that choice, driven by revenge.
She came back later. They had slept together. She had predicted Geralt slaying people in town. He woke up the next morning, betrayed when he didn't find her next to him, meaning that she didn't keep to her word and left the town, but went there to get revenge. Geralt followed her to town, but found her henchmen, those very men who had insulted him the day before. They attacked him. He only defended himself from them.
Sure, he could have simply knocked them out, but I also understood his rage in that moment.
He mowed through them with fluent movements. And then he encountered Renfri. He pleaded with her to stop, to simply leave Blaviken and to never come back; that she could simply start a new life.
She was barely an adult for crying out loud!
But she wouldn't listen. She attacked him. And they fought, Geralt only defending himself, up to the point where he left her the choice to stop, to go away, but she didn't, she attacked again, only armed with her dapper. Seconds later said dapper stuck in her throat. She whispered her last words to him. "The girl in the woods will be with you, always. She's your destiny."
I could feel how much Geralt hated having to kill her and I felt bad – terrible even – to have him relive that day in such detail right now. I stroked his cheek, smiling reassuringly. I couldn't really see him, my eyes staring right into his mind, but he could see me and I wanted him to see I was there for him.
The old wizard came back, wanting to take Renfri's body away for inspection, but Geralt threatened him to leave her alone. Even when he killed her, he still defended her. Her death had been her choice. He wizard then declared Geralt 'the Butcher'. People started throwing stones and Geralt got on his knees, holding up the hand that held his sword to shield his head. A girl, whom Geralt had grown to like, stepped up to him and told him to leave Blaviken, and to never come back.
In that moment, I felt that something broke inside my husband.
"It wasn't your fault, minne," I whispered, focusing on his eyes again and not on what laid behind them.
Though there was still pain written all over his face – no, his whole body was tense – he scoffed dryly.
"I killed her, didn't I?"
"She made that choice," I argued softly, "It wasn't you, not really, it was her. And those people, they are wrong too. You're a good man, minne."
Another scoff. "I killed these men."
"Yes, in self-defence. With how many they were, they could have killed you if you had held back."
He was silent for a while and so was I.
"Is that why you didn't let me in at first?" I asked after some time, almost inaudible, like my love-confession all these years ago.
"Yes," came his answer. And for a while nothing more. Then, "I just couldn't. Witchers are supposed to be emotionless anyway, or at least it's what humans believe, so why not give them the satisfaction to be right? All they saw in me was a cold blooded killer."
"You're more than that," I interrupted him, "You always were."
"I wasn't. But I am thanks to you. You've made me more; you've given me more than I deserve, more than I have ever dreamt of: your love, a home, a son."
"You're kidding right now, are you? You are more than I deserve. I grew up hiding, been called awful things my whole life – elves are like humans in that; they don't like halfblooded bastards – and then a handsome man comes along and sweeps me off my feet, literally. The first person who was nice to me for ages saves me from a miserable life. It was you who has given me more than I ever hoped for: two people to love unconditionally."
As if on cue, we heard the soft patter of small feet coming up the stairs. Our late-night conversation must have woken Crevan. He tapped into our bedroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"What is it, sweetie?" I asked him, holding out an arm to help him climb into bed.
"Can't sleep," he slurred.
I smiled as I helped him climb between Geralt and I, tucking him in. Geralt draped his arm over both of us, squishing us together, the three of us cuddled up.
"I love you," he mumbled sleepily. Soft snoring from in front of me told me Crevan was already asleep.
"I love you," I returned, "More than anything."
"I know." I had my eyes closed, and Crevan's head would be in the way anyway, so I couldn't see him, but there was a smile in my husband's voice that I couldn't miss. "Otherwise you wouldn't put up with me."
"You can be a handful," I chuckled quietly, "The two of you. My hair still isn't fully dry."
"Mine neither. Sleep now, my love."
"Mhh, good night, minne," I yawned and snuggled up closer to sleeping little Crevan, putting my arm over Geralt's. the three of us slept the night though without more nightmares.