ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 一 ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴠɪᴀ

𝕏𝕀. "𝕀 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕥."

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

"ɪ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀʟʟ ꜱᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛ."

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       Geralt of Rivia has lived quite a long life, usually consisting of slaughter, bags of coins, and an empty void deep within his chest. Some will argue and say that "deep void" was just another string of words for the Witcher's constant loneliness, but for Geralt, he just felt... well... empty. Even with a beautiful, naked woman lying next to him, with only but thin material draped over her, Geralt couldn't help but notice that feeling seemed less intensified. Maybe it was because the man was satisfied with the pleasure the naked woman offered, or maybe because he knew that the Princess of Kattegat was waiting outside for him, and no one else but him. He had someone with him; a friend.

       Geralt desperately grabbed the container next to his bedside, his throat begging for some water. To his annoyance, it was empty. Grunting, the man placed it back down. The woman leaned up, a cheeky smiling gracing her thin lips, as she delicately traced a scar on Geralt's back.

       "This... I definitely know. The vampires bled as white as a sheet." Geralt sighed, lying back down to face the ceiling as the woman continued to sing. "And yet her dead heart did beat." She placed a fluttering kiss on said scar before slowly moving down his well built abdomen. His fleshed face was glistening even more by fire that lit the room as he forced himself to not roll his eyes at Jaskier's familiar tune. No matter how far away that boy was, his songs somehow would always reach the Witcher's ears. Her fingers moved lightly along his sweaty skin before reaching another scar. "The kikimora?" Geralt only stared at the woman, confirming her thoughts as she laid another kiss, and another, and another, before squinting her eyes at a scar she did not recognize. Moving closer to his leg, the woman realized the wound was not familiar to her. "Hmmm. I don't recall the bard singing of this one." With faux shock, she seductively looked towards Geralt. "Who would dare try and rob you of your treasure? A woman?" Her thoughts ran immediately to the woman outside with the horses. She met Eleanora a couple of days back, when she first entered the room for her... services. Geralt and Eleanora seemed to be in an argument of some sort, with the princess having her bow and arrow aimed straight at the Witcher, and he who seemed quite unfazed by the action. To say the sight was terrifying would be an understatement.

"Don't fucking test me Geralt. I will shoot."

Only silence followed after her threatening statement, which only angered Eleanora even more.

"I swear on your ball sacks that I will shoot."

"You're overreacting, Eleanora." She grinned humorlessly at him. Before Geralt could blink an arrow zipped past him, just slightly grazing the tip of his ear before impaling the wall behind him. Geralt's golden eyes screamed anger at Eleanora's forest ones, but his face remained emotionless. "You missed."