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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

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Of Things Unseen (Geralt Rivia x f!OC)

Prologue Cont.

A/N: I really really love this okay. Side note I have done so much Geralt shit that I sort of feel like this has become a Geralt blog😂 because I literally do nothing with my life but go to work, go home, and write :) Also requests are open. I don’t just write Geralt but apparently he’s my specialty right now. Here’s the list of people I write for just in case you want something else.

Warnings: death but it’s the witcher so come on

Word Count: 5.6k

Geralt pulled Dareceria's chair out for her and waited for her to sit down before returning to his seat. This left them with Zephyrina's empty chair between them.

“Is Jaskier having fun with Zephyrina?” Darceria asked as she picked up her chalice. She kept her voice low and quiet so that only the witcher could hear her.

She knew the answer to the question. She could hear Zephyrina's joyful laughter as Jaskier spun her out and then pulled her back into his arms. Darceria just wanted an excuse to talk to Geralt.

“I would assume so.” He answered just as quietly as she had spoken. "She seemed hesitant to accept his offer earlier."

“She's cautious.” Darceria placed her chalice on to the table then put her hands in her lap. “All her life, men have thrown themselves at her only for her wealth or for her appearances. It's taken it's toll on her.”

“Wealth?” Geralt turned his head to the redhead, who nodded.

“Her father was a lord in Verden. He passed away three years ago. That's when our paths crossed.”

“Where have you been since the collapse of Romavek?” He inquired.

“Here and there.” She softly shrugged her shoulders. “Keeping myself busy as much as I can.”

“You could be anywhere on the Continent. Your abilities would be far more useful somewhere like Cintra or Kaedwen. Why here? Winiford?”

“Because this is where Zephyrina is.” Darceria forced a smile on to her lips. “This is where she is happy. I can't leave her.”

Geralt hummed in response, turning his head back to watch Jaskier and Zephyrina dance.

Darceria gave up trying to talk to the witcher. She wasn't interested in talk about herself. So instead, she tuned in to different conversations happening around the room. When one bored her, she'd move to another. Her fingers brushed along the stem to her chalice as she listened.

Her stomach tightened when she heard the familiar uneven gait of the assassin. He was making his way across the room towards them. Darceria acted quickly but calmly. She stood from her chair with her chalice in hand and moved into Zephyrina's seat.

“He's in here.” She brought her chalice to her lips and took a small sip.

“Where?”

“He’s coming towards us. Listen to his movements. He’s favoring his right foot so there’s going to be a slight limp in his gait.”

While she spoke to him, Geralt’s eyes flickered around in search of the man. He spotted someone matching Darceria’s description. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a big beard that came half way down his chest. His dark hair was tied back to stay out of his face.

“Do you see him?” Darceria asked.

“Yes, and we’ve made eye contact.” Geralt sighed out as he looked away from the man.

“Just pretend to talk to me.” Darceria crosses her knees and turned a little towards the witcher.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

She could sense the man’s presence. He was growing closer and his eyes were boring holes into the side of her head.

“How long do you plan on staying in town?” Darceria asked him, placing her hand on his arm.

“I’m leaving in the morning.” Geralt found himself gazing at her, studying her features as much as he could. There was the faintest scar beneath her left eye that stretched for about three inches across her cheek.

Darceria turned her head away from him to listen to the assassin walk around the table. He was going for Lord Amaury. Geralt saw this and stood up but Darceria’s hand squeezed his arm.

“No, not yet.”

“He’s going to–,”

“He’s just going to talk to Amaury. He isn’t going to do anything.” Darceria shook her head gently. Geralt sighed through his nose and returned to his seat.

“Ah! Thomasin.” Amaury greeted the man sent to kill him. “It’s so good that you made it, dear brother!”

Geralt turned his head to Darceria. He refrained from letting out a sigh. Thomasin was Amaury’s younger brother.

“You didn’t say the assassin was Amaury’s brother.”

“I didn’t know.” Darceria shook her head. Her ability didn’t grant her the knowledge of knowing exactly every little detail of future events. She only knew the important things. “All I saw was him killing Amaury.”

The witcher grunted.

Zephyrina sat down in the empty chair next to Darceria, and Jaskier took the seat on the other side of Zephyrina. The two laughed at something Darceria hadn’t paid attention to.

“It sounds like you two are having a grand evening.” Darceria turned her head to look to her raven haired friend.

“Jaskier is a decent dancer.” Zephyrina giggled softly.

“Decent?” Jaskier mockingly clutched his chest. “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.”

“How about you two?” She rolled her eyes at the bard, a smile playing on her lips as she looked to Darceria. “Is the silent witcher good company?”

“I prefer silent company to loud company.” Darceria stated. She picked up her chalice and moved the remaining liquid around inside the cup.

“Why don’t you take her dancing, Geralt?” Zephyrina suggested, leaning around Darceria’s chair to look at the witcher. “She’s a rather good partner.”

Darceria’s eyes widened and her hand that remained in her lap curled around the material to her dress. Sometimes her friend’s bluntness caught her by surprise.

“I don’t dance.” Geralt’s voice was deep and low.

“Oh, I don’t believe you.” Zephryina shook her head.

“Zephyrina, leave him be.” Darceria told her. “I don’t want to dance.”

“I don’t think I’ve properly met your friend.” Jaskier was turned to face Zephyrina, one of his elbows resting on the table.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Zephryina put her drink down. “Jaskier, this is Darceria. Darceria, this is Jaskier. He’s the witcher’s bard.”

Without warning, Darceria stood to her feet and moved around the table. Zephyrina furrowed her eyebrows together, watching the redhead.

“Did I say something?” Jaskier asked Zephryina.

“No, you didn’t. She just has her moments.” She sighed gently.

Gerlat kept his eyes on Darceria, unsure of what she was doing. She moved around the table to where Thominson was leaning against the table next to Amaury. She was moving straight for Thominson. What was she doing?

Geralt stood to his feet and hastily moved after her. His large strides made it easier to catch up to the woman. Before he could reach her, she bumped into Thominson with enough force to spill the drink in his hand all over the front of his clothes.

“Fuck!” He cursed, turning to face whoever had caused the mess. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?”

“I’m so sorry, good sir.” Darceria’s eyebrows drew together with feighned worry. “I-I didn’t know you were standing there.”

“Try using your goddamned eyes.” He snapped at her. He hadn’t paid enough attention to her to notice her eyes were lacking pupils or irises.

“Darceria!” Geralt hissed her name as he put his hand on her arm.

“Is this your wench, witcher?” Thominson demanded.

“She is not mine, but I’d rather you not call her such names.” Geralt’s tone became cold and harsh as he looked to the man. Thominson clearly didn’t like the witcher getting an attitude with him. He took a step towards the white haired man and the redheaded woman.

“What are you going to do about it, mutant?”

Geralt moved Darceria so that she stood behind him. His hand remained on her arm to ensure that she would stay safely behind him.

Thominson stood a few inches taller than the witcher but Geralt was bigger in width. His broad shoulders packed more muscle than Thominson’s.

“I’m not fighting you, Thominson.” Geralt spoke calmly. “But if you are rude to her again, I’ll have no problem knocking your teeth down your throat.”

“Enough.” Amaury stood from his seat. He looked down the table to where the bard and Zephyrina were. “Zephyrina, come get your sister. Take her to her seat.”

Darceria listened as Zephyrina stood from her chair and crossed the space that separated them. Zephyrina placed her hand on Darceria’s shoulder to guide her to the other end of the table, but the redhead hesitated to leave Geralt’s side. She didn’t want to leave him alone with the man who was going to kill his own brother.

Feeling Darceria move from behind him, Geralt loosened up. He no longer felt the need to stand tense and rigid, prepared to fight Thominson.

“There’s no need for a fight tonight, gentlemen.” Amaury said, looking between the two men.

Geralt locked his jaw tightly and turned to follow Zephyrina and Darceria to the end of the table they sat at.

“What the hell was that?” Geralt sat down in his seat next to Darceria.

“It’s best not to question me.” She picked up her chalice to finish off what wine she had left.

“Well I’d rather know why I just almost got into a fight with the lord’s asinine brother.”

“I never asked you to follow me.” She pointed out.

He gritted his teeth together, sighing heavily through his nose.

“Don’t do something stupid like that again, Darceria.” Zephyrina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thominson is not one to mess around with. He’s beaten women for looking at him the wrong way. He’s a prick.”

“Sounds like he deserves to have his ass beat.” Jaskier muttered.

Darceria remained silent. She didn’t like explaining herself to anyone. Most of the time, it only made things more confusing.

“Why did you do that?” Geralt clearly wasn’t ready to drop the subject. He wanted to know exactly why she had walked up to the man she knew was going to murder his own brother.

“Every oracle has visions differently.” She started off, keeping her voice low enough so only he could hear. Her head remained straight, as if she was watching the dancing crowd in front of her. “I only see the important things first. I saw Amaury die. Then as the time gets closer to the main event happening, I start seeing or hearing more. They’re just little bits and pieces though. Running into Thominson and making him spill his drink all over himself has made him have to leave the room.

Geralt turned his head to look down in the direction of Amaury. Thominson was no where to be seen. Lady Rika, however, was eyeing the witcher. Underneath the table, she was tapping her foot.

“Rika is watching you, isn’t she?” Darceria folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t wait for Geralt to answer her. “Her plan was to have Thominson here for the rest of the night. Now he has to go to his room and get clean clothes. She anxious, nervous. She isn’t sure if Thominson will hold his end of their deal.”

“Deal? What deal?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen that part.” Darceria shook her head. “All I know is there’s some sort of deal between them. The more nervous she gets, the more likely she is to drink to ease the nerves. By the time Thominson prepares to slaughter his brother, she’ll be a drunken mess. I’m sure she won’t be able to keep secrets at that point either.”

The witcher gazed at the woman sitting next to him, captivated by her knowledge and what she was capable of.

“How much longer before Amaury gets killed?” Zephyrina leaned over to whisper to Darceria.

“Two hours.”

***

“Where are you going, Darceria?” Zephyrina was quick to question the woman as she stood from her seat.

“To stretch my legs, Zephyrina.” She sighed out, brushing her hands over the dark blue skirt to her dress. “Is that okay with you?”

“I just don’t want you getting yourself into trouble.” Zephyrina rolled her eyes at Darceria’s sarcasm.

“I can take care of myself just fine.” Darceria mumbled under her breath before she left the table.

Geralt’s eyes stayed glued to her, watching her move in and out of guests and their tables with grace and elegance. She disappeared through the large double doors on the opposite side of the room.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

The witcher turned his head to look at Zephyrina, who had one elbow propped on the table and her chin rested on her fist. She had been watching Darceria as well but as Geralt looked to her, she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“She’s not a virgin, you know.”

Jaskier choked on his ale, hitting his fist against his chest. Geralt grumbled from deep within his chest.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, men think she is because of her eyes.” Zephyrina softly shrugged her shoulders. She glanced over to Jaskier to make sure he was alright. He shook his head and waved her off even though he couldn't speak. She sighed at him and brushed her dark hair over her shoulder so she could card her fingers through the long strands. “She’s had lovers before. She doesn't speak much of her life before we met, but she had a husband.”

Geralt said nothing so Zephyrina continued.

“She has this way of pulling people in.” She turned her head back to the witcher as her voice turned to a soft whisper. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. Hell, I was even subject to her magnetism. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of her gift, because she knows who will enter her life when and how important they’ll be.”

Geralt glanced over to the woman out of the corner of his eyes. She was just rambling now.

***

Darceria moved back and forth in the hallway just outside of the ballroom, zoning out of what was happening around her so that she could try to see the next movements of Thominson and Rika. She wanted to know exactly what was going to happen.

The pads of her thumbs brushed against her fingertips as she moved through hallway, her eyes closed and her lips parted.

Without any warning, she was suddenly slammed against one of the stone walls. A hand wrapped firmly around her throat, not enough to cut off her oxygen supply but enough to hold her against the wall. Her heart hammered against her chest, her hands coming up to grab the wrist of the person holding her.

“You thought you could make me look like a fool in front of everyone?” Thominson hissed, his vile breath reeking of ale.

“Get your hands off of me.” Darceria spoke through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders, wench.” His grip tightened on her throat. Her nails dug into his skin, nearly drawing blood. One of her hands left his wrist to reach out for his face. He didn’t get a chance to lean away before her palm made contact with his forehead. She ushered a vision to him, a vision she’d had the previous night about a kingdom’s fall. There were soldiers dressed in all black storming a city, slaughtering anyone in their path, including children and women. Fires blazed here and there, started by the black soldiers.

His hand released her immediately as he staggered back. His dark eyes were clouded over as he was forced to see what Darceria wanted. She collapsed to her knees, coughing harshly. She rubbed her neck. She could feel the exact instant the vision started for him because her energy started to vanish. She felt weak and exhausted. Her eyes were heavy and her fingers trembled.

“Darceria!”

She could hear Geralt moving towards her. Darceria snapped her fingers and the color returned to Thominson’s eyes. He fell to his hands and knees a few feet from her, his head hanging as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I thought you said you were just going for a walk.” Geralt knelt down by her side. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched from the contact. He immediately pulled away, thinking he had hurt her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Darceria’s hearing was faltering. Geralt sounded further away than he actually was, but she could feel his presence next to her and smell his oh-so familiarly earthy scent.

“You’re a goddamned witch!” Thominson growled through his teeth. “What did you put in my head?”

Geralt looked to Thominson, who drew a dagger from his side. Geralt stood to his feet, watching the man as he pulled himself to his own. He seemed unsteady and shaky.

Darceria felt Geralt step in front of her. She pressed her palms flat to the stone floor in an attempt to feel what was happening. Her hearing was messing up so she needed some way to see what was going on.

Thominson charged for the witcher, raising his dagger. Geralt easily caught the man’s arm and shoved him back with enough force to make him hit the wall across from them. Thominson was quick to recover, pushing himself from the wall.

Darceria lost track of what was happening. They were moving too quickly, too fluidly and with her lack of hearing, she couldn’t keep up. Her heart raced as she waited for something to happen, for Thominson to kill her or Geralt to be near again. Everything was black and empty. Her ears began to ring with a pitch so intense that she cried out. She pulled her hands from the floor and put them over her ears in an attempt to get the noise to go away or lessen.

A hand on her back made her jump. She reached out to grab the wrist of the person, her fingers curling tightly around the wide wrist. Being that her hand was against the person’s bare skin, she could feel their heartbeat. It was slow but not as slow as Geralt’s usually was. He was breathing heavy from fighting.

“Geralt.” She whispered his name.

Beside her, the witcher had knelt down and tried to get her attention. She was holding her head and her eyes were squeezed shut. She’d cried out once before, just before he used Thominson’s dagger to kill Thominson himself. Geralt repeated her name in an attempt to get her attention but it was like she didn’t hear him. That was when he put his hand on her. This time instead of flinching violently, her fingers latched around his wrist with a surprising strength.

Geralt didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find his voice as he looked down at the redhead. Her eyes had opened but her head was tilted down. Her lips were parted as choppy breaths came in and out. The way she uttered his name almost like a prayer made something inside the witcher stir. It was a feeling he’d never felt before and one that he’d probably never be able to explain out loud. There was something inside him that lit like a candle in an empty room.

“I’m right here.” He spoke softly to her.

A few silent minutes passed as they stood there, catching their breath. Both of them were so caught up in the moment, in the other person, that they hadn’t seen a guard leave the ballroom only to find the witcher and the blind woman a few feet away from the body of Thominson. The guard quietly but hastily made his way back into the ballroom to alert Lord Amaury.

Slowly, Darceria’s hearing came back and suddenly she could hear everything. She put up the wall that protected her sanity, that kept her from hearing everyone constantly. She only chose to hear Geralt’s slow and steady heart beating in his chest.

She shook her head, her eyebrows drawing together.

“I can’t-I can’t hear him. Thominson’s heartbeat.” She rasped.

“I killed him.” Geralt looked down to realize that her hand was still holding on to his wrist. Her grip wasn’t as tight anymore but she still held him like she was afraid to let go. “Darceria, what happened?”

“I just came out here to see what happened. Sometimes when I’m alone I can make visions happen.” She retracted her hand from his wrist and rubbed her forehead. “I wasn’t focused on listening to things around me. He grabbed me and tried to choke me.”

“How did you get him to let you go?”

She shook her head again, her hand falling from her head to her neck.

“I can sometimes make people see what I want them to see, mostly things I’ve seen. I showed him a new vision I’ve been having. It’s horrific and terrifying.” Darceria whispered gently.

“Can you stand?”

“Not on my own.” She laughed awkwardly. “Transferring my visions to someone else always sucks the life out of me.”

Geralt offered her a sturdy arm so she could rise to her feet. Her hand held his muscular forearm.

“Seize the witcher!” Amaury shouted from the opposite end of the hallway. Darceria could feel Geralt tense up and turn to face the lord and his guards.

“Stop!” She shouted, holding her hand out to the guards that hesitated to approach the White Wolf. She let go of Geralt and moved to step in front of him as if she’d be his shield in this fight.

The guards instantly stopped and lowered their weapons at the sight of the blind woman.

“This witcher saved your life.” Darceria told Amaury. Her head faced him, her white eyes seemingly locked with his. Goosebumps rose across the lord’s skin as he stared back at this woman. “Your brother was going to murder you before the night ended, my lord.”

“Preposterous.” He scoffed. Behind Darceria, Geralt kept a watchful eye on the lord’s guards. They weren’t sure if they were willing to kill the woman to get to the witcher, should she be a problem.

“I’m an oracle, Lord Amaury.”

“Oracles are an old wives tale.” The lord didn’t believe her. He was too young to remember much about Romavek. He was just a child when the secretive kingdom fell.

“No, we aren’t. I can prove it to you.” She offered, holding her hand palm-up towards the lord. Amaury hesitated. He looked back to the witcher. Geralt held his gaze.

“He’s not going to come any closer to me.” Geralt told Darceria under his breath.

“Then I will go to him.” She took a step away from him but Geralt took ahold of her arm. She turned her head back towards him, her white eyes finding the floor. “If you don’t let me do this, then one of us will die here tonight.”

Her words caused him to release her arm. He had to trust her. She was an oracle. She knew what she was doing. Watching her cross the space between where she had been in front of Geralt to Lord Amaury made Geralt’s insides churn. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone and vulnerable.

As the redhead approached the lord, his men put their swords down and granted her passage. She moved through the crowd of guards until she stood in front of Amaury. She took his hand in hers and closed her eyes. She pushed images of Thominson murdering Amaury into the latter’s head, and then she made Amaury listen to Rika’s earlier conversation with Thominson.

Geralt watched curiously, carefully, as Darceria touched Amaury’s hand. His eyes went white, the same empty white that filled Darceria’s. And then she released Amaury’s hand. The color returned to his eyes and he closed them, bringing his hand up to his neck.

“I had a vision two nights ago that you died on this night.” Darceria stepped away from the lord, though Geralt saw that she took the step because she was unsteady on her feet and needed to regain her balance. He could hear her heart racing, begging for some sort of relief. Transferring her visions had proved to exhaust her.

“Thominson has been working with your enemies in the west. He told them he’d get rid of you tonight and come morning, anyone who ever thought of overrunning you would be here to take your city. He'd take pay from them after he murdered you." Darceria clasped her hands together behind her back. “And your wife.... She wants you dead.”

“How.... How can you do that?” Amaury was in awe.

“I am an oracle.” The corners of her lips turned up just slightly. “Now that the White Wolf has not only saved your land but also your life, I’d surely hope no harm would come to him.”

“No, none.” Amaury shook his head, looking back to the witcher. “How can I ever repay you, Geralt of Rivia?”

“This wasn’t my doing.” He took a few steps towards Darceria. “Had Darceria not been here, I would no have known of your brother’s plan of betrayal. This victory is hers to claim.”

“Darceria.” Amaury reached out to take her hands. She was surprised by the action and slightly overwhelmed. “I’d like to offer you a position here within my home–,"

“Save your breath, Lord Amaury.” Darceria firmly shook her head, pulling her hands from his. “I do not wish to be tied down. I like my freedom.”

***

“There they are!” Jaskier stood from the table as he watched Darceria and Geralt move through the crowd towards them.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Zephyrina’s stayed on Darceria. Her arm was wrapped around one of Geralt’s arms to provide stability. She leaned against him, using the strong man to the best of her advantage. Her knees were shaky and her breathing was uneven. Her skin seemed paler than usual and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. “What happened to her, witcher?”

“I’m fine, Zephyrina.” Darceria shook her head softly. “I am just tired.”

“What about Amaury and his killer?”

“That’s been handled.” Geralt let Darceria go as her hand slipped from his arm. He watched her move towards Zephyrina, who held her hand out for the redhead. It was almost like she knew Zephyrina would be there for her, holding a hand out to aide her. Darceria reached out and put her hand in Zephyrina’s.

“Do you want to go to your room?”

“I do.” Darceria nodded her head. “But I hate to make you leave when you’ve been having so much fun here.”

“I’ll walk you ladies to your rooms.” Jaskier offered.

“I’d appreciate that.” Zephyrina gave him a little smile.

***

“Where’s Geralt?” Darceria asked Zephyrina quietly. The two women had their arms laced together as they moved through the mansion towards their guest rooms. Jaskier was on the other side of Zephyrina, keeping them company.

“He disappeared somewhere in the ballroom.” Zephyrina grinned just a little, turning her head to look at her friend. “Why? Were you hoping he’d take you to your room?”

“Zephyrina.” Darceria sighed heavily. “No, I wasn’t. I just wanted to know where he was. I was curious.”

“Geralt isn’t one for crowds.” Jaskier shook his head, scrunching his nose up. “Or groups really. He’s not a people person.”

“That’s quite a shame.” Zephyrina brushed her hand over Darceria’s arm absentmindedly. “I’m sure he’d make great company. He’s a handsome one. I told him you weren’t a virgin.”

“Zephyrina!” Darceria gaped, turning her head to the woman. “Why in the hell would you bring up my intimacy with him? Or with anyone?”

“I had to keep us busy while you were gone.”

“You are the absolute worst.” Darceria rubbed the side of her face.

Zephyrina and Jaskier came to a stop outside of Darceria’s room while Darceria continued on into her room, twisting the doorknob and stepping into the pitch black. She listened as Zephyrina and Jaskier whispered back and forth very briefly.

“Give me a few minutes and meet me at my room. It’s four doors down from this one.”

“How long is a few minutes?”

“Ten.”

“Right. Good.”

Darceria slipped out of her aching heels and raked her fingers through her curly hair. The door to her room shut behind Zephyrina.

“You don’t have to stay here with me, Zephyrina. You can go with Jaskier.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m going to braid your hair before you go to bed. We both know that if you sleep with your hair down after the day you’ve had, your hair will be even more of a mess than it usually is.”

“My hair is manageable.” Darceria moved towards her wardrobe. Her fingers brushed across the door until she found the knob. She pulled it open and then began to finger through the dresses hanging.

“Would you like me to help you?” Zephyrina asked.

“No.” She shook her head. She moved to the end of the wardrobe with nightgowns and picked out one that had long sleeves. “What color is this?”

“Black, just as most of your clothes.”

Darceria nodded her head and pulled the article of clothing down from the wardrobe. She then moved to stand behind the folding screen in the corner of the room.

“What do you think of Jaskier, Darceria?” Zephyrina looked at herself in the vanity mirror, fixing her hair and adjusting the bust of her dress.

“I think he’s a decent man. His voice is pleasant. He’s very animated with his hands.”

“I’d sure hope so.” Zephyrina sighed out, a little smile coming to her lips.

“Zephyrina.” Darceria shook her head with a laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“He’s awfully handsome.” She turned around as Darceria emerged from the folding screen now in a black silk nightgown. The sleeves covered her arms but there was a deep V in the neck of the gown. “I’d surely hope tonight isn’t the last night I see him.”

Darceria knew that tone. Zephyrina wanted Darceria to tell her if they would run into the bard again in the future.

“Come, sit.” Zephyrina motioned to the stool in front of the vanity. Even though she’d known Darceria for three years, it was easy to forget that the woman was blind. So often she acted as though she had sight. Her gift allowed her to see. Her sight was just different than everyone else’s.

“You know I can’t tell you, Zephyrina.” Darceria took a seat on the stool and brushed her hair back over her shoulders.

“I know. I just wish you would. It would make things so much easier.”

“Not really. If you knew what happened in the future, you’d act differently and the future would change. Destinies would change. Fates and fortunes would fall into chaos and you’d ruin any hope of that future that you were told of coming true.”

“I hate it when you sound all mystical.” Zephyrina muttered. She began to play with Darceria’s hair, pulling strands back into a braid.

“Zephyrina?”

“Yes, Darceria?”

“What does.... What does the witcher look like?” Her voice was quiet and timid.

“He’s tall and rugged. His shoulders are broad and his arms are terribly muscular.”

“Terribly.” Darceria repeated, smiling softly at Zephyrina’s mocking tone. She had felt just how muscular the man was on more than one occasion that night.

“His hair is white and just a little longer than shoulder length but he had half of it tied back tonight.”

“And his eyes? I’ve always heard that witchers have yellow eyes.”

“Yellow is pretty bland for how I would describe them. The bloody amber things pierce right into your soul, I swear it.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.”

“I am never dramatic.” Zephryian teasingly rolled her eyes. “Are you asking about Geralt of Rivia because you fancy him?”

“No, I don’t, Zephyrina.” Darceria muttered. “I just wanted to know.”

“Are you going to ask about Jaskier?”

“What does Jaskier look like, Zephyrina?”

“Well he’s got a cute little ass in those tight pants he was wearing tonight.”

***

Darceria moved towards the door to her bedroom, pulling the robe off of a chair at the end of her bed. Someone had knocked on her door, pulling her from the light slumber she was in. She brushed back a few stray curls that managed to break free of the braid Zephyrina had done the previous night. The braid was proving to be strong than Darceria thought. It managed to stay in the whole night with the exception of a few pieces of hair that neglected to stay where they were. As she neared the door, she could hear his slow and gentle heartbeat.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“I’m sorry to wake you.” Geralt spoke, glancing down the hall briefly to eye a couple servants whispering to each other. He brought his attention back to Darceria. “I’ve come to collect the bard from your friend.”

“Are you two leaving?” Darceria asked softly. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes. We were suppose to leave yesterday but Amaury talked us into staying for the party.”

“I’m glad you did stay.” She smiled up at him. “Our paths wouldn’t have crossed had you not.”

Geralt was silent, gazing down at the blind woman.

“Did you know how the night was going to go? Did you know we were going to meet?”

“I can’t disclose any information like that with you, Geralt.” She firmly shook her head. “It messes things up. Destinies and fates and futures.... It’s all very sensitive.”

“And you are the one burdened with seeing it all.” He murmured gently. She nodded her head. He let out a sigh, fixing the strap across his shoulder. “What if I told you I didn’t believe in destiny?”

“Then you’re certainly not as wise as I thought you were, oh mighty witcher.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The sound of a door opening down the hallway caught his attention. He turned his head to see Jaskier stepping out.

“So this is farewell?” Geralt asked Darceria. He couldn’t deny what he felt with her, the draw he felt to her. He couldn’t explain it either, but the thought of leaving her wasn’t sitting right in his stomach.

“Perhaps.” Darceria nodded her head. “Unless our destinies cross again.”

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