Of Women and Wolves

Unwanted Attention

Fianna had to admit, she was rather underwhelmed by her descendant. She didn't see the need to act so brutishly just to be accepted as a warrior. Fianna could relate to the scorn and judgement that the Queen probably faced as a female choosing to take up arms.

The woman was a Queen for god's sake. There was nothing wrong with taking pride in your image and wielding a sword at the same time, Fianna was a testament to that with her obsession with her hair.

Partially hiding behind a pillar, Fianna and Geralt were enjoying each other's company with a drink. From where she stood beside her lover, Fianna looked up at the head table, she could see the Princess was trying to hold back her tears.

"Poor girl. She looks miserable. To think that could have been my future is terrifying." She mumbled sadly to Geralt.

His ever-present frown deepened at the thought of Fianna marrying anyone. 'Anyone except you' a treacherous thought whispered through his mind. Shocked at the sudden thought, Geralt's eyes widened slightly but before he could analyse it any further, Fianna nudged his ribs from where she stood with one of his arms over her shoulders and tilted her head towards where two of the Princess' suitors were having a go at one another.

"You lie, ye little shite!" A large redhead snarled in a thick Skelligan accent. Fianna caught sight of the crest embroidered on his jerkin and recognised him as a member of Clan an Craite.

"You've never faced so much as a bad meal in yer life, never mind a Manticore!" Fianna laughed lightly at his words, Geralt smirked at her in amusement.

"I've had Manticores thrice as fat and ugly as you perish under my steel!" Fianna, knowing that both Lords were full of it, rolled her eyes at their posturing.

"Enough!" Yelled the Queen from where she sat on her throne, still wearing her blood-soaked armour.

"We have renowned guests here tonight. Perhaps one of them can declare which esteemed Lord is telling the truth." She said with a sly smile in their direction, practically oozing smug superiority.

Fianna decided to stay silent for now and let Geralt handle this, he always was better at holding his tongue in the face of Nobility.

Imagine her surprise when he chose violence.

"Neither" It took a lot of self-control to prevent her jaw from hitting the floor.

"Are you calling me a liar, old man?" Fianna failed at hiding her snort behind her mug of ale.

"The Butcher of Blaviken bleats utter nonsense." All levity Fianna felt disappeared. She stepped forward to interject with something decidedly unpleasant when Geralt took hold of her elbow in silent warning. He knew that anyone mentioning Blaviken was a sore subject for her.

"Perhaps the lords encountered a rare subspecies of Manticore," He tried to placate. The Queen was obviously in desperate need of better entertainment though.

"And what would the fiercest fighter on the Continent like to add to that?" She said with a teasing twinkle in her eye.

"Him? I've eaten tougher steaks than him!" The redhead exclaimed in shock while pointing at Geralt. Fianna rolled her eyes at the idiocy of men, especially privileged men. Straightening her spine, she took a step forward and raised her ale in salute.

"Not him. Me" She spoke for the first time.

"A woman? Ah go an' shite!" He laughed incredulously. His posse laughed with him as if she had just told the greatest joke in history.

"Fianna of Lyria, my Lord. Witcher, School of the Wolf." His eyes widened at her introduction and he quickly shot a look at his uncle. Eist smirked and nodded. 'He must have spoken of me so' She thought.

"And what do you have to add to this debate, Witcheress? Which Lord is correct?"

"Neither, as Geralt said before. Manticores have only one sting, their scorpion's tail. And they were not brought here by the conjunction, they were made, here on the Continent by Mages, therefore, the only way to kill one is with a silver blade. So unless it was just a slip of the tongue - which I doubt - you, good sir, have had no manticores at all 'perish under your steel'" She stated before taking a sip of her ale. Seeing the redhead about to blow up, she decided to cut this whole argument short.

"Young an Craite, how's your Ma? I haven't seen her in years. Do tell her that I was asking for her when you return to Ard Skellig, would you?" Her subtle threat must have worked because his face, which had previously been the same shade as his hair, was now as pale as a wraith.

Skellige boys are all the same, terrified of their Ma's finding out they have misbehaved. The hall remained in stunned silence until the Queen's raucous laughter broke the tension.

"Marvelous! And what of when the two of you slayed the Elves at the Edge of The World?"

"There was no slaying. I was about to have my throat cut when Fianna intervened and forced them to let me go." Fianna blushed lightly at his recognition in front of so many.

"But, the song?"

"Yeah! The Song!!!" Jaskier whispered harshly, Fianna looked sideways at him and raised a brow. Jaskier huffed in defeat.

"At least when Filevandral's blade kissed my throat, I didn't shit myself. Which is all I can hope for you good Lords. At your final breath, a shitless death." Geralt said while saluting the listening crowd. Fianna was struggling to hold in her laughter at some of the looks displayed in front of her, then Geralt broke her composure.

"But I doubt it." He added, blunt as ever. Fianna had to brace her forearm on his shoulder and bury her face in the crook of her arm to muffle her laughter.

"Oh, my love! Where did you learn the sass?" She managed to gasp out in between giggles.

"I grew up with your snarky arse. Had to pick up on something." He replied out of the corner of his mouth.

"Any woman strong enough to have slain The Dragon of Fyresdal will make for far more interesting company this night, along with a man happy to stand in the shadow of his woman, both are welcome at my table. Come, Witchers. Take a seat by my side while I change." The Queen ordered before leaving to change out of her armour.

Fianna and Geralt looked at one another in resignation before making their way to the dais.

"The Dragon of Fyresdal?" Her lover asked curiously.

"Twas a Forktail." Geralt snorted at the lightness in her tone before they took their seats and waited for the Queen to return.

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***A.N***

I know this chapter is quite short but there is very few good places to cut off without it just looking messy. Does anyone want another chapter tonight?

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-Karla XO