Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝ Who are we to challenge destiny? Life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart. ❞
Eist
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Geralt's Perspective
The table was huge, rectangular, and could seat more than forty men. Calanthe sat at the head of the table on a throne with a high backrest. Geralt sat on her right and on her left was Princess Pavetta.
Pavetta barely ate, reluctantly picking at the morsels served to her with a silver fork and eyed a decanter of Cintra wine just out of her reach.
Ros was in the centre of the hall, twirling with Mousesack to the tune Jaskier and his entourage performed. Not touching, but with arms outstretched toward each other, they bobbed and weaved. He guided Ros smoothly through the steps, knowing she was unfamiliar with both the song and the steps which went with it.
She followed Mousesack's lead with a smile on her lips. Geralt watched her with unrelenting regard.
"Damn this cursed thing." Calanthe huffed beside him, adjusting the jewelled bones adorned on her corset. Cleaned of gore and dressed out of her military armour. "I'd as soon see this night out in armour."
"As would I." Geralt agreed absentmindedly, his gaze never wavering from the swirls of red, silver and blue.
"Indeed." Calanthe adjusted the narrow golden circlet on her braided hair and turned to Geralt. "Tell me, how does a witcher find himself at my daughter's wedding feast dressed like a..." she laughed mockingly as she eyed his attire.
"I'm protecting the bard from vengeful royal cuckolds."
"Hm! Idiots, the lot of them." Calanthe rolled her eyes as she stared accusingly at all the men of her court. "Still, I'm glad of your company, which could prove handy. I have no doubt blood will spill here tonight."
