ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 一 ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴠɪᴀ

𝕍𝕀. 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴇꜱ

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       There were many creatures and monsters that were present in this world. From kikimorias to ghouls, Corsliss had taught all there was to know about them to her daughter. Eleanora was smart about their attacks, weaknesses, and their noticeable features. However, it's one thing to hear about them, and it's another to be face-to-face with a bodiless head of an Alghoul.

     "That's quite disgusting, wouldn't you agree?" Johnathans gagged out, trying to keep the bile within his stomach. The young boy was not wrong; the head's grey, wrinkly skin was covered in some sort of black guck that dripped onto the throne room's red and gold carpet. Its eyes almost seemed to be gorging out of its sockets as its mouth was hung open, the Alghoul's sharp teeth out for display.

       "Hmm." Irvin clapped his hands together as he cleared his throat from the slight awkwardness in the room.

       "Right, well I think it's best if Sir Witcher and I dispose of this creature before discussing a few things. But I believe we should get a good look at it since Geralt worked so hard to fight the Alghoul." Like two little excited boys, Irvin and Johnathan rushed down from their thrones to inspect the head of the Alghoul from Geralt's hands, who seemed unbothered by gucky residue on his skin. Eleanora could not tear her eyes away from it as she picked at her nails nervously; she must admit that it was quite scarier in real life.

That thing was in the woods?

What if it had gotten to her?

Was she the one that led the Alghoul to Kattegat?

       Geralt watched the young woman's face morph from fear, confusion, and panic all at once. His legs had a mind of its own as Geralt could feel them tugging towards the princess, yet he forced himself to stay still.

Who was he to comfort the princess?

       He was merely a witcher just doing his job for a few gold coins before heading off to his next destination, wherever that may be. Although he promised Eleanora he would stay, there truly was no reason for him to do so without raising questions. Frustrated by such thoughts, Geralt brushed away his messy, dirt-covered hair. Eleanora suddenly felt eyes burning into her. Lifting her head up, the white-haired man relaxed his tense shoulders as his eyes softened from her worried gaze.

       "Let's get a move on. Shall we?" King Sarnorin gave a hard pat to Geralt's shoulders, who visibly winced from the impact, but quickly regained his composure. The direct contact between his open skin and his leather clothing was definatly not a good combination, and it sure did fucking hurt. No one needed to know what happend; he would tend to his wound later, but fuck was it painful. The princess noticed the sudden discomfort from Geralt as her uncle led the man away, the black ooze leaving a trail behind them. Scrunching her eyebrows together, she made a mental note to ask him about it later. Johnthan, who stayed behind, turned towards his cousin. Something was obviously going on between the princess and witcher, and it seemed as though he was the only one in the entire damn castle that saw it.