Chapter Text
"It is even more beautiful here now." Yennefer breathed out and blew on the cloud of her breath to chase it away.
"Hm." Geralt knew what she meant. The untypical chill and humidity had finally reached Toussaint, late autumn slowly laying the claim on this sun-loving and loved by the sun in return region.
They were enjoying the twilight on the same hillock overlooking the estate and the forest as the day Geralt greeted Yennefer into his home. The word still sounded foreign on his tongue, but each time he said it, something shifted inside him to make space for that word - that concept - accepting it. Believing it. Even more so when Yen used it. Like a few days back, after a long ride along the mighty Sansretour river for a tour of the Valley. “Let's go home." That had been the second most beautiful thing she had ever said to him.
Now, she was leaning on his side, her black locks tumbling down his shoulder. With a content sigh, she pulled tight the intricate thin shawl across her chest. Chuckling at her undignified whimper, Geralt lifted her up, sat her in front of him, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She would hardly admit she was cold. She probably wasn't. But this way his chin found its perfect place in the crook of her neck. A satisfied hum escaped him and Geralt decided he didn't care to hide his happiness.
Yen had been in Corvo Bianco for two weeks, and they had not left the bed for the first one. Or rather, they had made lots of places and surfaces throughout the estate “bed”. And then they welcomed a guest. Or rather not a guest at all. Ciri had finally come to visit. Their daughter. Making them a complete family now. That felt strange and exhilarating and wonderful. Had Geralt ever used such words.
Living all together under one roof, and his own roof at that, had been a startling but welcome new experience. They were far from a typical family gathering at breakfast and having mellow conversations about the weather and the neighbours. Breakfast didn't work because Ciri preferred to wake up scarcely past dawn now, her new Witcher habits kicking in; Yen enjoyed sleeping in now that she could; and Geralt himself, well, he was torn between wanting to spend time with both his girls. His girls, he chuckled. Both would likely smack him over the ear had they heard him refer to them as such.
“If I didn't know better, I would have asked what you were thinking about, Witcher.” Yennefer chuckled too.
“Mhm. But you do know better.” He lightly grazed her earlobe with his teeth, scattering goosebumps and shivers across her pale skin. “Two things," he said. "Well, neither is a thing. One's Ciri. Do you think she's taken that archespore contract to prove her Witcherly prowess or to give us time alone?" Yennefer laughed before answering.
"Both, I'm sure. She is very happy to see us finally together, but everyone has their limits on witnessing other people's domestic bliss," she laughed again.
"Domestic bliss. Is that what we're having? Not half bad." He grinned for a moment and got lost in thought again. How likely was all of this? A Witcher ending up with an estate of his own? Retiring to grow grapes and make wine and live happily ever after with his family? He had scarcely seen any happily ever afters in his long life. And was dead certain he was not one to get one of his own.
“And the other?” Yennefer prompted.
“Fog.”
“Hm?”
“That," he pointed to the patches of rough pale rags floating low above the river in the distance. "It's one of the first mists I've seen in Toussaint,” he explained.
“And that makes you think of..?”
“Velen. It's damned foggy this time of year. Miserable too. Constantly overcast and wet and muddy as hell.” She shimmied to turn around just enough to half face him, still snug in his arms.
“You miss it, don't you?” He sighed seeing her searching eyes. She knew him too well to think he was missing the wretched place where he’d met with so much of people's suffering. It was the helping he missed, the making of people's lives just a tiny bit better, ridding a village of evil - or some of it at least - hunting that evil… “...the Path?” He sighed again in response to the flicker of hurt in her eyes. How could he prefer the Witcher's life to the one with her? The truth was, he didn't. But he would be lying if he said he didn't miss being on the Path. There were bits he definitely itched to go back to. And he might - just for a little while, maybe? His happiness was not complete after all, not entirely untainted when one of his closest friends, the one who had sacrificed most for himself and his family, was now cast out and in mortal danger.
Regis was forced to hide for fear of his life, which he could lose forever this time, as his vampire brethren were those after him. And the reason was that Regis had helped Geralt, again. And suffered for it, again. He did not yet know how, but Geralt kept thinking about a way to help Regis. He avoided discussing it with Yennefer for now. It seemed inappropriate in her unadulterated bliss these past two weeks.
“Yes, and no," he finally said. "This, what we have here and now, is by far the best thing that's happened to me. You're here, and Ciri's here. Even if only for a while, we're family.” He could hardly believe he’d said that out loud. It almost sounded scary for how good it felt. Yen snuggled in closer to him, silently sharing the moment.
“But the Path is part of me,” he continued after a pause. “I can't stop being a Witcher even in… retirement.” The word was still ridiculous, even after honestly thinking at times that he was too old for all that shit, and just wanting to be left alone. “But Ciri's on the Path now, so I have some of it in my life I guess. I can keep teaching her, and one day, who knows, we might find a contract to take on together.” He could feel Yen tense with immediate worry. “If,” he stressed the word knowing full well he desperately wanted to do it, almost as much as Ciri did, “we find such a contract, I promise it won't be anything that would truly put her in danger.” She harrumphed irritatedly and elbowed his ribs.
“I know you two can take care of yourselves, Witcher. Do not think I doubt that. It is still annoying you two wanting to run around waving your swords at things that want to kill you.” Geralt earned not just an angry grunt from Yen but another sharp elbow as he squeezed her in an inescapable hug and whispered in her ear with a laugh,
“Who would say you could be adorable when you're annoyed.”
Whatever might have followed was interrupted by a boy sent, as it turned out, by Barnabas-Basil to check where the master and mistress would like their dinner. They decided it would be rude to Marlene to refuse to eat now, so they followed the boy towards the house. He scampered away, eager to give the majordomo the due prior notice.
Marlene's dinners were a nearly stately affair. Everything, from the scrumptious recipes to the way they were served on the large oak table, to the amount of food itself, was a thing to behold. The woman had been delighted in Ciri's healthy appetite (that girl could really eat a boar, Geralt thought) and only somewhat offended at Yennefer's miniscule portions. She kept trying to surprise the mistress with something new every day though. And Yennefer gave in more often than not and tried at least a spoonful of another delicious dish.
Lazily strolling up the path towards the main house, they admired the way twilight was turning into dusk, soft light giving way to darker hues. Suddenly, a black cloud rushed above their heads and broke down into a twirl of bats, which, having made a quick circle above the courtyard, dashed into the wine cellar in a surprisingly inconspicuous manner.
Geralt knew his medallion gave a slight vibration only because the signal sent out to him was intentional.
"Regis," he said.
"Really? In that case, he certainly has a flair for dramatic entrances."
"It's not that. Although he kinda does. But this way is somewhat safer. Somewhat." Geralt's jaw tightened. Yennefer adjusted the shawl on her shoulders.
"This is not an arranged meeting, I take it?" she asked, all business. Geralt shook his head grimly. She nodded. "I guess I'd better go inside and tell Marlene not to hurry with hot food. The cold cuts will be fine waiting. Let me know if I can join you, Witcher. You know I've been hoping to see Regis in person." He nodded curtly, striding along the lower path towards the wine cellar.
Geralt thought hard about the past few days. Had he become so lost in his domestic bliss he had missed a message? There had been no direct communication since Regis had gone into hiding - even Geralt did not know where - after the stupid tragic story that had ended in Detlaff's death. Geralt would sometimes find a few ravens as if following him and he'd talk to them, leave a message to his vampire friend. But since the Witcher couldn't understand the bloody birds himself, it was a one-way kind of communication. It was too risky for Regis to actually send anything in writing.
"Fuck," he growled. All this time, he knew Regis was in grave danger. And yet he'd allowed himself to be happy, to relax. "Fuck," he repeated, vaulting over the fence to get to the cellar sooner. He hoped the danger had not become immediate.
***
There were two likely spots for Regis inside the Corvo Bianco wine cellar. Either the deepest, darkest, and coldest room, the very same where Geralt had fought a bruxa holding Detlaff's severed hand; or Geralt's small alchemical laboratory. It was in truth also used by Yennefer and Ciri since they had arrived, but no estate workers ever entered there. Barnabas-Basil evidently took care of keeping the place clean himself, not wanting to risk either - a worker messing up an experiment, or an experiment messing up a worker.
The laboratory stood empty. Although it was dark enough even for a Witcher to not notice a higher vampire if he did not want to be seen. Geralt cleared his throat, feeling a bit stupid.
"Regis?" Silence. But a moment later, his medallion hummed and pulled towards deeper into the cellar. "Thanks for the directions, I guess," he grumbled and followed.
"Regis," he repeated, this time in a tone which to himself sounded a mixture of apologetic, sad, and uncertain. He stopped a step away. Regis turned, took the step and raised his arms in an invitation. Geralt did not need to be asked twice. He hugged his friend and clapped him on the back. It made the heaviness he felt in his gut - soul, whatever - both lighter and heavier.
"Are you alright? Anything happened?" he asked gruffly.
"I am the same as before, nothing new of any great significance has transpired, if that's what you mean. All the higher vampires of Toussaint, as well as our lower brethren - they probably more so - are out to end me, quite permanently this time. So the situation is, one could claim, stable." A hint of a smile on his face was playing off the darkness of his sunken eyes. Regis held his hands behind his back, calm and collected as always, smart and annoying as always. Geralt sighed.
"Yen was right. You do have a flair for the dramatics."
"Did she say so?"
"Mhm. She says hello. You know she'd love to see you."
"Ah, yes. That would have been quite pleasant, I've no doubt. It's just that I'm not really in a position for social calls at the moment." Geralt grumbled, crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, and pulled a wine bottle from a shelf at random.
"Est Est?" He asked, already uncorking the bottle.
"I don't see why not anymore." Regis shrugged.
"You were saying no to social calls." Geralt reminded, having taken a long swig of the vintage. Regis smirked. He looked tired.
"Indeed. I am in fact here to give you a parting gift. Nothing grand, a memento. Which incidentally can be useful to you."
"What d’you mean? Where’re you going? Is it unsafe where you've been staying? Fuck." Geralt rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry, stupid question. I know it's unsafe for you everywhere." He wanted to add "And I'm sorry because it's my fault", but the words got stuck in his throat. He gulped at the wine and passed the bottle to Regis.
"I wouldn't like to endanger my…” Regis paused to savour a sip of wine, but also clearly to emphasise what he said next, “...generous host." Geralt furrowed his brows and waited for elaboration. Regis sighed.
"I've been staying with Natanis these past two weeks."
"Natanis?"
"Of course. You never asked for her name last time." Surprisingly for the Witcher, Regis sounded bitter. "Remember a contract here in Beauclair years ago for which you got paid twice without lifting a finger?"
"The succubus?"
"The very same."
"I didn't know she was still in Beauclair."
"You might've asked your friend Palmerin," Regis chuckled. Geralt was lost for a moment. Then it all came back to him. Back when himself and his mismatched group of followers - in fact, his friends, his hanse - had been looking for Ciri, they had spent quite some time here in Toussaint. And the contract Regis mentioned was for sure one of the most lucrative ones in Geralt's whole witchering career. The noble ladies of Beauclair had paid him for stopping the succubus from entertaining their husbands. And the husbands had paid him for not harming her. In truth, it had all been Regis' work to stop her from hunting by switching her lewd attentions from the men of Beauclair to Regis himself. There might have been more to that relationship that Geralt had ever realised. Not that he’d ever really given it any thought. No wonder Regis was bitter. A bloody good friend he made. Before he could snowball all the way into self-flagellation, Geralt forced himself to focus on Regis’ last words.
“Palmerin, eh?” He nodded. “I see.” He didn’t really. Did Regis mean he was romantically involved with a succubus at the same time as she was involved with Palmerin de Launfal, the knight who was an old-fashioned personification of chivalric virtues? It didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time to discuss that.
For a moment, Geralt’s attention fell on a small parcel Regis left atop a barrel.
“Wait. Think about it. There’s gotta be a way.”
“Thank you, my friend, for even considering it, but I’m afraid there simply isn’t.” The words came out resigned, calm. “The vampire laws and customs are very clear on the matter of fratricide. Of which I’ve recently been reminded. And Detlaff was a brother to me.” Regis drank, slowly. Geralt saw his friend’s face pale even more than usual, even in the low light of a torch and a handful of scattered candles. He wondered if the drinking was an excuse to keep his eyes closed and not look at the Witcher for a while. What was that about being reminded? He had no time to ask or even think about it.
“Someone’s coming,” he said gruffly. The mist Regis turned to was invisible even for cat’s eyes.
A familiar sweet-and-tart fragrance preceded the sigh.
“Have I missed him?” Yennefer sounded sincerely upset. Geralt’s sigh was meant to show his irritation.
“I haven’t invited you in, Yen.”
“I know. But I kept thinking, what if this is my only chance to see the one who saved my life once and to tell him how grateful I am in person?” Geralt kept quiet. This was not his decision to make.
“You have expressed your gratitude in a most eloquent way in our correspondence, my Lady,” Regis stated, materialising between him and Yennefer and taking a bow facing her. Geralt wondered if Regis turning his back to him was an intended insult. It might have been.
Yennefer rarely surprised the Witcher. She did now. For the next moment, instead of the warm and grateful smile he expected from her as she might have given the vampire a curtsey as a sign of exceptionally high esteem, she nearly knocked him off his feet with a hug. Regis was as stunned as Geralt, it appeared. His arms flailed briefly and hung in the air at his sides before lowering down around Yen.
“You are very welcome,” the vampire said quietly enough for only her to hear. It was a blessing and a curse being a witcher as Geralt unintentionally heard their conversation he was not meant to witness.
“Thank you for saving not only me, but Ciri. I will never forget it. You can always count on me. Do you hear me? Always.” Geralt heard Yen’s urgent whisper even as he’d moved to a further corner. His chest felt constricted, as if an especially large alghoul was sitting on him, snapping his rotting teeth at his face. This was so fucking wrong. He had to do something to help Regis. He stuck his fingers into his ears not to hear more of the whispered exchange. All the way until he heard an insistent
“Geralt!” Yen’s expression was hard to read. “Come. We have a guest for dinner.”
“What?” The buzz in his ears couldn’t have been from that little Est Est. “You’ve only talked for a minute or so.”
“I admit I do not know how either.” Regis chuckled. “And I am the one who can bend humans to my will. Albeit to a very small degree.”
“You can?” Geralt felt confused as if he’d missed something. A lot of somethings.
“Nothing spectacular.” Regis gestured with his hand dismissively. “Might be able to have you hop with your hands up for bunny ears. No more than that.” He shrugged. Yennefer let out an undignified snort and pressed her hand on Regis’ chest.
“We simply can’t have you leave, dear Regis. You make for too good company.” Was Geralt hallucinating? Where did this sudden and deep friendship come from? He knew the extent of Yen’s gratitude, yes, but he also knew her character and her propensity for avoiding getting truly close to people.
“In other times,” Regis sighed and shrugged helplessly.
“None of that now. Marlene’s dinner’s waiting. Which means there’s enough for at least a dozen, so the four of us can truly feast.”
“Four?” Geralt asked dumbly.
“Ah, yes,” Yennefer answered Regis instead of him. “There’s someone else who’s been dying to meet you. She’ll be here shortly.” The sorceress beamed. The vampire’s response was drowned out by a burst of light and force which knocked Geralt clean off his feet. Regis managed to stand upright and helped Yen, who only stumbled. The unfinished bottle of Est Est exploded.
“That was good wine,” Geralt grumbled, getting up. Ciri, her face smudged with dirt, blood and ichor, laughed, and rushed towards Regis, smashing into him with another unexpected hug. Well, Geralt did in fact expect Ciri to embrace her once-saviour when she got to finally meet him in person. But Regis didn’t. Geralt smirked at the vampire’s effort not to fall - or rather not to let the lady fall. They stumbled together and he ended up landing on a barrel. This was apparently just what the once barber-surgeon needed. Regis laughed out loud together with Ciri who buried her face between his neck and his sideburns.
“I’m so happy I caught you!” Ciri bubbled with enthusiasm. Regis didn’t seem to be disturbed by her battle-filthy clothes.
“Yeah, it’s almost like you knew he was here.” Geralt noted, his arms crossed. He was growing more and more annoyed with the way this visit had got completely out of hand.
“Of course I did,” Ciri admitted, laughing, finally letting Reghis regain his dignity. “Yennefer and I had an understanding. And,” she turned to Regis again, “You cannot leave now.” She held out a hand stopping the protest forming. “I know how dangerous this is for you. We all know danger. And we appreciate you staying. I’m sure, within the four of us, we are able to protect you if the need arises. But honestly, what kind of an idiot would decide to attack a higher vampire in the home of a Witcher who’s also a favourite of the Duchess? With two sorceresses present?”
Regis’ mouth tightened. Geralt knew what he was thinking. There were indeed forces even the four of them would find hard, likely impossible to fend off. But he hoped they were not planning an assault just yet, and he said nothing. He just nodded to Regis, meeting his eye.
“I guess I’m surrounded.” Regis bowed politely. “However, I wouldn’t like to endanger the folk who live and work at the estate, so I’ll join you in the main house shortly.”
“Of course,” Yennefer said. “That reminds me, why didn’t you just fly inside the house as a mist? There’s at least one window open.”
“I do not in fact require an open window. And a few weeks back I might have done the very same, but now I wouldn’t dare impose on a lady’s privacy.” He gave Yennefer a polite nod.
“It’s a shame the lady wasn’t doing anything you could so inconveniently interrupt then.” Her retort caused Ciri to snort and Regis to chuckle. Geralt just groaned. Were they all against him? “A cloud of bats looked very imposing though.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know you could do that,” Geralt interjected. “I thought it was just a huge bat, not a bunch of small ones.”
“You might not have witnessed all of my talents, dear friend,” Regis said. “And it’s actually called a “cloud”.” There it was. His annoying way of teaching everyone everything, especially when they didn’t care to learn that particular bit of information.
“Really? I thought the collective noun for a group of bats was a “colony”,” Ciri said with genuine interest. Really? Geralt thought.
“It is, when you refer to them as living in a cave. “Cloud” is for when they are in flight. And there’s a third one, in fact.” Regis paused for dramatics - Yen was so right about that - but was interrupted by the sorceress herself.
“A “cauldron”, is it?”
“Indeed,” the vampire beamed. “I’m finding myself in exquisitely delightful company this evening.” Geralt rolled his eyes.
“Shall we go eat already?”