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He had seen many curses in his time, even managed to lift a good number of them; from botchlings and strigas to women cursed from the womb to become birds, he had figured out how to free these souls from their torment. There were a myriad of ways to lift a curse, some significantly more dangerous and intricate than others, but usually there was a way.
This curse was puzzling to the Witcher, to say the least.
~~~~~~
Toussaint was beautiful, the vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see, the mountains stood glorious in the distance, and the air smelled of flowers and the sea, rather than manure and sick.
"I think we could get used to this", he mused aloud to Roach as he went over her coat with a brush. It was rare, finding the time to give her a proper grooming, let alone inside the new stables at Corvo Bianco. The chestnut mare shook her head, letting Geralt know that she was already well adjusted to being pampered and off of the Path.
"Don't get too comfortable. We haven't retired quite yet, Roach."
"Master Geralt, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but you have a guest."
Roach gave what could only be described as a glare in the direction of Barnabas-Basil, for so rudely interrupting, and Geralt raised an eyebrow at her before slipping her a lump of sugar and setting down the brush.
"A visitor, B.B., or a nuisance? Ever since the Duchess passed we have had no shortage of folk claiming to be haunted by her spirit-" Geralt cut himself off as he saw a young woman peer from around the stable door, evidently distressed and anxious. Around his neck, his medallion hummed, letting him know this was more than a mourning peasant or wine merchant.
"Shall we take this inside, Master Geralt? I sense our company is... In need of respite." Barnabas-Basil looked down through his tinted lenses at the woman, his brow furrowed in concern.
"I'll meet you inside. Please give her something to eat."
Geralt watched as the Majordomo of Corvo Bianco escorted the woman towards the main house, only turning away when the door was closed behind them.
"Well, Roach, it looks like we may have some real work after all. Don't stray too far." he patted her flank before leaving her to wander into the paddock as she pleased.
Geralt took his time wandering back up the path to his home, letting his guest eat and his Majordomo do his job of hospitality. The Witcher knew that it wasn't his forte, and best leave it up to the professional. He wouldn't want B.B. trying to rid the countryside of Drowners and Alghouls.
When he entered the house, it smelled of roast chicken and herbs, and as he approached the dining table he felt his medallion start to hum again.
"You're cursed." he was blunt, sitting down at the head of his table and taking in the small woman staring at her cleaned plate near the other end.
She was probably only five foot three, the tanned complexion of a worker, with sunbleached, mousy blonde hair loosely braided down her back. Brown eyes peered at him over a small nose dotted with freckles.
"H-how..." her voice was quiet and shaky, and she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.
"My medallion. It hums in the vicinity of magic. So either you're a Bruxa with a very good glamor spell, or you're cursed." Geralt didn't miss his Majordomo's visible discomfort with his lack of social graces.
"A... Bruxa?"
"So you're cursed."
"Yes... I.." she looked nervously now at Barnabas-Basil instead, as though she was uncomfortable broaching the topic in front of yet another person.
"B.B., would you mind giving us the room?" He followed her gaze to the man who hovered in the corner, waiting for an opportunity to do his job.
Barnabas knew better than to argue, or rather, he had a list of things to take care of around the property, and was very glad to deal with mundane matters.
After the Majordomo left, Geralt stood and motioned to the next room, guiding her to sit with him more comfortably.
"I need some details, what you know, how you were cursed."
There were a few moments of silence, this young woman wringing her hands, picking at her dress, fiddling with the end of her braid. She didn't say anything, although she opened her mouth to start speaking upwards of five times. Anyone could see that she was terrified and uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry... Sometimes I skip straight to business... I'm sure you heard my comment about 'nuisances' in the stable... I understand that you have a real problem and I would like to help, because I'm able to..." he pursed his lips and moved to sit on the couch next to her, leaving her enough space to feel comfortable. "I'm sure you already know that I'm Geralt... What's your name?"
"Madeleine..."
"Alright, Madeleine, could you tell me what's been bothering you?" He was trying to make himself as unimposing as possible, but that was hard to do when she was so small compared to him. He saw her take a deep breath, sensed as she made her own heart rate slow, just by the tiniest bit.
"This curse... It's from my father in law."
"And why would he want to curse you?"
"My husband... He... My late husband... We were only married for a few years.. In that time we tried and tried, you know, for-for children... But it never happened. His parents assumed that I was the issue.. That.. I was unable to give them grandchildren. They hated me for it.. My husband and I didn't know what to do, he didn't blame me... So he went to the herbalist.. She told him to get a handful of herbs, and she would prepare them for us... Maybe it would help us... F-fertility wise."
Geralt nodded, letting her speak. She was getting shaky again, tears beginning to well in her eyes.
"The herbalist gave us the prepared medicaments and instructions... We went home... Took them..and..."
"You can skip over this bit if you would like."
"He had a poor reaction to the mix... In the middle of... In the middle, he started... He died." she burst into tears, the trauma of the experience being too much to recount any further.
Geralt subtly cast Axii, gently placing his hand over hers as she calmed down and looked up at him.
"Your father in law cursed you because your husband passed?"
"No... He... It wasn't because Jon died... It's because afterwards... Long afterwards... I got remarried. I got pregnant straight away. In the end, I wasn't the problem. But it made Jon's father very angry. One night, when my new husband, Marcus, was away for work... Jon's father came to our home. He was drunk, yelling and screaming, he started to throw things, he cursed me, and my womb, that I would lose the baby, and that I would never become pregnant again. It was my fault that his son was dead, and I should cause the death of any man I ever lay with."
"Did you lose the baby?"
"Yes..." she turned her head away, resting her hand above her womb and biting her lip.
"I'm sorry, Madeleine..." he squeezed her hand. He could remember, before Ciri, before the Wild Hunt and the White Frost, before his daughter had become their daughter, when Yennefer ached for a legacy as such, and the hurt it caused them both.
"I have heard... Those who place a curse, they can renounce it somehow... But in a fit of rage, when he returned home to find me in a pile of... Marcus killed him. He killed my father in law for what he had done, not thinking..." she swallowed thickly, looking up into Geralt's eyes, "when I had recovered, simply assuming I had lost the baby by chance, from stress, when Marcus and I laid together... He passed too."
Geralt sighed, nodding and looking across into the fire. This curse was puzzling to the Witcher, to say the least.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?"
"No... I left home... The people in my village..." she winced "they drove me out. They assumed, after two dead husbands, that I must be dangerous."
"You can stay in my guest room. I need to communicate with my dear friend... She may have some information on how to help with this."
"You don't know how to lift it?" she started to tear up again, her hopelessness evident in her posture.
"I have a few ideas. Your father in law being dead definitely makes this much more difficult, but I don't think it's impossible." he didn't try to smile, he knew it would probably scare her more than comfort her.
"Ideas?"
"I need to talk to my friend before I suggest anything, in case there is something I'm missing. Some curses require a bit more... Magical experience... Thank you, Madeleine, for telling me everything. The information you have given me is invaluable... For now, I will have my Majordomo get you settled upstairs. You will be safe here while I figure this out."
As if on cue, as though the very mention of him summoned him, Barnabas-Basil came through the door, a number of scrolls under arm.
" B.B., would you please get Madeleine set up in the guest room? She will be staying here for a short while."
"Of course, Master Geralt, right away. If you would follow me, Miss Madeleine, I will help you get settled... Perhaps a nice bath would be in order?"
The young, twice widowed woman gathered herself, gave a pleading, hopeful look to Geralt, and then followed the Majordomo.
_____
Geralt had wasted no time in writing to Yennefer, asking for her assistance, or any information she may have. There were a number of things that he had thought of, but he really hoped that she would have an alternative solution.
A week later a parcel showed up on his doorstep, a handful of books, and a letter, all of which smelled distinctly of lilac and gooseberries. Geralt breathed deeply as he sat down with the tomes, opening the expensive parchment and taking in Yennefer's delicate handwriting.
My dearest Geralt,
I truly wish that I heard from you with better tidings. I won't dally with giving you the information I have on how to lift such a curse, as I am exceptionally busy at the moment. The tomes I have sent you contain information on complicated curses pertaining to fertility. There is a surprising amount of research on the topic, and Aretuza has no shortage of those interested in sex. I do hope that you handle this safely, and that your new friend is freed from this torment.
With much love,
Yennefer of Vengerberg
Geralt chuckled softly to himself, breathing deeply once again and reaching for the tomes. He had hours, perhaps days of reading ahead of him.
"Master Geralt, I'm sorry to ask you this, but when did you last bathe?" Barnabus-Basil stood at the door, his face screwed up in displeasure at the smell wafting out of the laboratory.
"A few days ago... But you aren't smelling me. It's this decoction. My heightened sense of smell makes it worse for me, trust."
Geralt had been deeply focused for seventy two hours straight, trying and failing to create this decoction noted in the small, dusty tome titled Cures and Remedies For Magical Afflictions of Fertility. The White Wolf had snickered at how on the nose that title had been, but it was the only book that seemed to take into account the intricacies of such a curse.
"Alright, well, our guest is getting very antsy, she is asking why it is taking so long."
"I imagine she would be anxious, considering her situation. Please assure her that I am working tirelessly to lift her curse."
"Master Geralt, if I may ask, what sort of curse is this? Nothing seems... Off about the young lady, other than high levels of anxiety perhaps."
"Her father in law cursed her. If she lays with a man, he dies." Geralt looked up at the Majordomo to see his face pale. "I know she's beautiful but don't. I couldn't run this place without you."
"Oh my goodness, no, I had not even thought about it, that is entirely inappropriate." He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, peering at the vials and flasks scattered on the tables, and the whirring mechanical centrifuge. "I will pass on the news of your progress to our guest."
Geralt smirked at the man's awkward shuffle up the stairs, wondering if he had caught that it was an attempt at teasing rather than a threat. Although, he supposed, it's okay if he felt threatened by the idea.
_______
"Alright, I have a... Solution to your problem. But I understand if you would choose another path." Geralt sat on one end of the couch, Madeleine on the other, looking up at him with hope in her eyes.
"What is this solution? I would do anything."
"From the books my friend sent me, I have created a decoction, unfortunately this specific mixture of herbs can be particularly deadly in the wrong doses, and for those with weaker constitutions."
"I almost never get sick-"
"I have to drink it."
"You-what? What would you drinking it do?"
"Madeleine, I need to stress, you can choose to live with this curse. It will not kill you ."
"Please tell me, Master Witcher."
"In order for your curse to be lifted, you must lay with a man, and he has to live for ten hours afterwards." Geralt watched her face, watched as she processed the information.
"How does this involve you, or a decoction? I don't understand. Why ten hours?" she seemed embarrassed, mortified even, as she realized what he was implying.
"This curse is tied to your fertility. The average pregnancy is actually approximately ten months, not nine as many believe. Thus an hour for every month. This decoction, it would be consumed after the act, and put the consumer into a sort of... Magical coma."
"I-" she shifted nervously, looking up at Geralt with a sort of fear in her eyes. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You won't. Without the ability to communicate with whomever cursed you, we have to take an alternative route. I have done many... Interesting things, to lift curses."
"Who would I have to... I.."
"I wouldn't want anyone to consume this... Poison. I'm the only one who could survive it, because of my mutations. This was made for mages and sorcerers, people who can resist the negative effects of it."
There was a long stretch of silence, and based on Madeline's heart rate alone, he could tell that she was terrified. He was not surprised, most people found within themselves a certain revulsion toward Witchers. He was very aware that, personally, he had no trouble with the opposite sex, but in his experience, those women that stuck around past morbid curiosity were that of a statistical exception.
"Let me... Let me understand this. In order to lift this curse, to be able to marry, to be able to bare children... We have to... And you have to drink that poison?"
"Yes."
"But Marcus... He... He died in... In the act."
"Yes. But curses work in very strange ways. I think, probably, in this case, it was something like a heart attack. Without more... trial runs, I suppose, it's hard to tell what exactly causes the death. Whether it is a direct magical attack, or simply a sort of... Bad luck."
"You are willing to risk your life in the hope that you won't be struck dead immediately?"
"I have been in far more precarious, life threatening situations before. Perhaps, when I live through this, I will tell you. I am willing to make this wager... And I would not suggest this if I believed there was a safer or simpler solution."
"I need to think..." she stood up, maintaining eye contact with the Witcher, as if she were trying to read his very thoughts, search his very soul, for another solution.
After a short moment she made her way upstairs and disappeared for the remainder of the evening.
______
Days passed, and Geralt had not seen the terrified young woman. He had heard her at night, pacing the floor of the guest room, he had heard her eat at the table, he had heard her scurry up the stairs as he approached the house. He was beginning to wonder if one night he would not hear her at all. He wouldn't blame her if she left. She arrived out of desperation, but at hearing the solution, he wouldn't be surprised at all if she decided to live and die alone, in fear.
Lesser, greater, middling, some choices cannot be categorized on an objective scale. Something that seemed small to him, may feel like the End Times to another.
Finally, he saw her. He was in the stables again, like the day she had appeared, grooming Roach for no reason but to pass the time. He heard her before he saw her, the light gait of a small woman nervously tiptoeing down the dry, packed dirt of the path. When she made it to the doorway, he was already looking in her direction.
"I have made my decision." She was trying very hard to keep composed, putting on a brave face in front of an imposing figure that she had evidently decided to allow into her bed.
"When?"
"Tonight. After Supper."
______
Barnabas-Basil had insisted on venison. Geralt had eaten a lot of venison in his days, but always on the Path, and, if he were honest, never cooked as well as this. Out in the open, there wasn't time for attention to detail, or any sort of spices and herbs.
The Witcher cleaned his plate twice, while Madeleine hardly touched her food.
She did, however, drink her wine very quickly. Barnabas-Basil cut her off after her third glass.
After the table had been cleared, Geralt followed her, on her behest, to the guest room, where they sat in silence on the edge of the bed.
"You aren't drunk are you? If you are, we aren't doing this."
"I may be a small woman but I have certainly never had an issue handling my alcohol." For the first time in nearly two weeks, she sounded very self-assured.
"I simply want you to understand that I don't want to take advantage of you. This is... This is an unusual situation. I understand hesitancy, I understand wanting to dull yourself to this. I want to remind you that we don't have to do this." he looked down at the woman next to him and she met his eyes.
"I have a few questions."
"Ask away."
"One, if this works, and the curse is lifted, considering that my fertility should be restored... Is it possible that I could end up-"
"Witchers are sterile. There is no chance that you could become pregnant." he saw her relax slightly at that, but then tense once more as she steeled herself to ask the next question.
"The next isn't so much a question... But a request. I would wish... I would wish for you to be gentle."
"This is all on your terms, Madeleine. I will be gentle."
She peered up at him in the candle light, as if weighing that promise, and then nodded.
Geralt had never been in this particular situation before, but he figured that the right way to start would be a kiss.
He was gentle as he cupped her cheek, the warmth of her skin growing under his touch, and he leaned forward slowly, so as not to scare her. Madeleine did not pull away, but rather met him in the middle, her brow furrowed as their lips connected softly.
He wasn't pushy, or assertive, as he usually was in bed, he didn't try to move things faster. Before long he felt her small hand on his chest, resting above his heart, fingers smoothing over the rough linen of his shirt.
Geralt let his hand leave her cheek, move down her neck, down her shoulder, her side, until it rested on the small curve of her waist. She started to lean into his touch, as though she had found a place in her mind that allowed her to simply enjoy the touch of a man, rather than continue fearing it.
They stayed like that for a while, just kissing, petting, warming to the idea of going further.
Madeleine was the one to suggest they move along, pulling back from the kiss to tug up on his shirt, watching intently as he pulled it over his head and dropped it on the floor. At first he saw concern in her eyes, watched them dart from one scar to another, until it moved from concern to understanding. These were tangible evidence that dancing on the edge of death was his life's work, and if he has escaped it hundreds of times before, surely he can escape it again.
"Like what you see?" He felt compelled to ask it, to lighten the mood even a little bit.
"I'm not sure what I was expecting, to be entirely honest... Perhaps you would pull off your shirt and be some strange, terrifying monster beneath." she peeled her gaze from his torso and met his eyes. "Yes. I like what I see."
"May I?" He ran his fingers along the ties of her stays, seeking to even the playing field.
"Yes." she murmured, her breathing becoming more uneven, and her heart pounding in her chest.
Geralt had experience in removing far more complicated pieces of clothing, and it wasn't long before she sat before him in naught but her soft, clean under clothes.
This time Madeleine leaned in for a kiss, her hand finding his bearded jaw and pulling him in, guiding him to rest above her on the soft bed.
Geralt let her take the lead, let her guide him where she wanted him. He rested between her soft, pale thighs, gently rutting against her as she rocked her hips upward into him. His trousers still remained, taught and constricting. Surely she could feel his desire against her core, but she had yet to do anything about it.
The sounds she made only solidified to him that she was comfortable, the happy hums, the whine of delight as he slipped his hand beneath her panties and slid his fingers through her folds.
He could hardly control himself as she moaned his name. Her reaction to his pressing two long, experienced fingers into her core and curling them slowly made a shiver roll down his spine. He repeated the motion until he could feel her arousal dripping down his knuckles, her face and chest flush, her fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
"Do you think you're ready?" He whispered, kissing her temple and slowly removing his fingers.
"I'm not sure..." she panted, shifting her hips and letting her eyes wander down his torso to the bulge in his trousers.
Geralt lifted himself from the bed, removing his boots, his trousers, and looking to her before he removed his own undergarments. She seemed curious, and he obliged, stepping out of the final layer and turning back to the bed. He could see the combination of nervousness and arousal on her face, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"We can stop."
"It's... Mm... How do I say this..." she bit her lip, face flushed so deeply that her freckles almost disappeared.
"I'm assuming that none of your previous lovers have been... Especially well endowed?"
"That's certainly... A way to phrase it..."
"Ah... Well, if you would allow me, I have a few ideas that would ease your mind."
"Like what?"
"My mouth."
Madeleine blushed even deeper than before, the flush spreading down to her chest.
"I've never... We were always told it was dirty..." she swallowed thickly, her eyes resting on his lips.
"Well, I have no qualms with getting 'dirty', although I can assure you it's anything but." he moved over her slowly, bracing one arm next to her and letting the other slowly glide over the curve of her side, halting to let his thumb rub circles above the jut of her hip. She sighed as he closed his mouth over her pulse point, gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive spot.
"If it will help..." he felt her throat bob thickly under his tongue.
"It will."
He breathed against her skin, slowly moving down the bed, kissing her flesh as he traveled. Beneath him she shifted, unused to the attention he showed her body, shivering as he left a wet kiss on her navel.
Geralt tried not to enjoy this too much, the reactions of a woman inexperienced with being pleasured, rather than pleasuring. For the most part, his past sexual exploits had been far more... Worldly women.
He settled on the bed between her thighs, carefully pulling the fabric of her underclothes down and off of her legs. She avoided his gaze, unused to somebody else looking directly at her most intimate places.
"Look at me..." he murmured, hands running up the soft skin of her inner thighs as he lowered himself closer to her core. He kissed the inside of her knee, waiting for her to make eye contact.
Her pupils were blown, almost completely disguising the light brown of her irises. Geralt kissed closer to her core and found her hand with his before he ran his tongue over her centre.
"Oh..." it seemed as though all of the air in her lungs left in a surprised rush, eyes fluttering shut as he dipped his tongue into her dripping cunt. He smiled against her, running his skilled tongue up and applying quick, direct pressure to her clit, and moving with her as her hips bucked in surprise. Before long he had to pin her hips down to the sheets, bringing her to the edge and letting her come with a loud wail of pleasure. Geralt didn't stop, humming at the musky-sweet taste of her pleasure, wringing yet another orgasm out of her before giving her a moment to come down.
"Think you're good?" He murmured, his hand splayed across her belly, spanning the width of her hips, his thumb soothing over the soft skin of her hip.
"Yes... I think so." her voice was raspy now, raw from her moans.
Geralt moved up her body, settling between her thighs once more and brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. This whole endeavor was for her, and he had not been focused on his own satisfaction, but with his cock pressed against her inner thigh he was keenly aware of how he ached for his own release.
He was the one to be surprised this time, groaning deeply as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck. She had slipped her hand between them, grasped the length of his cock and pulled slowly until her thumb found the head. The sensation of her thumb, smearing the dripping pre from tip to shaft, made his head spin and he set his teeth against her collarbone, unable to keep his hips from moving into her touch. He knew that Madeleine wasn't a blushing virgin. Hell, after two husbands, she wouldn't be, but evidently she hadn't shied away from learning exactly how to please those men, even if they hadn't returned the favor.
"Fuck..." it came out as a growl, raw and gravelly, pent up frustration almost getting the best of him.
It was when she pulled back her hand that he worried, lifting his head and looking into her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to kill you... All of this... This was never the bit... Geralt..."
"I have survived far more harrowing foes than a woman in bed." He teased, bracing himself on his arm next to her head.
"I'm asking you now, Geralt, are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure." he whispered, his nose brushing against hers as he leaned in. "Are you still sure?"
"Yes."
"Alright," Geralt murmured, kissing her softly.
Madeleine reached between them and took hold of his cock once more, guiding him to her entrance before both of her hands found his hips. Geralt groaned quietly as he felt her warmth surround him. She went slowly, testing the sensation, and he didn't try to make her go any faster. Eventually, she stopped guiding, and she moaned loudly as he was fully seated inside of her.
"Oh gods..."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes." Her response was so emphatic that he did chuckle this time, kissing the corner of her lips before he began to move.
It wasn't long before they had found a rhythm, and he was fairly certain one could hear her cries from the very edge of the property. She did not shy away from expressing her pleasure, so he didn't either.
What had started as a very slow, gentle coupling, was quickly turning into something very primal, and even Geralt felt strange about how his heart raced. Had his mutations not slowed his pulse, he imagined he might have had a heart attack.
Madeleine was crying out, her body arching beneath him, and he felt as her orgasm rolled through her. The tightening of her body nearly wringing his own finish out of him. Before long he was finishing too, pressed deep, spilling into her as he growled low into her ear.
He slowed, rocking his hips until he was truly done. After a short pause, he moved to lay next to her, his forehead pressed to her damp temple as they both caught their breath. He wasn't used to being winded after sex. Surely this was part of the curse.
"Madeleine, you should sleep..." he whispered, starting to climb out of the bed.
"Stay." Her hand rested on his chest, keeping him from fully sitting up.
"I can't."
"Geralt, please..." there was fear in her eyes once more, as though the moment he left her side he would meet some terrible fate.
"When I drink the decoction, it will put me into a deep sleep, I won't respond, it will be as if I were dead... I don't think you want to see that."
She seemed to mull it over but shook her head, reaching for the small vial that Geralt had set on the bedstand.
"Please stay. I promise I won't be afraid. I've come this far. We have come this far. Jon, Marcus, they both died before we even finished. You are still here."
He was hesitant, but understood what she meant, what she wanted, and why she needed it. Without more hesitation, he removed the cork, wrinkled his nose at the smell, and knocked it back, wincing as he swallowed.
"Now go to sleep..." he whispered, immediately feeling drowsy. Geralt settled back in before he lost consciousness, the warmth of her body curling into his own being the last thing he felt before he slipped away into the darkness.
"Geralt?? Geralt!"
The Witcher groaned as the light hit his eyes, throat dry and tight. He felt small hands, smelled the musk of sex and the sweetness of perfume. As his eyes came into focus he could see the panic on the woman's face. Furrowing his brow he tried to sit up but his muscles ached and refused to listen.
"Madeleine..."
"You were convulsing! Geralt!"
"That would explain why every muscle in my body aches like hell..." he mumbled and took a deep breath, willing himself to sit up.
Madeleine was kneeling on the bed next to him, having taken the liberty of pulling on his shirt rather than her own dress. It hung from her petite shoulders and landed just above her bent knees.
"How long was I out?"
"Almost a day..."
"Mmm... Well... I'm not dead... I think it worked..." he murmured, hand clumsily landing on her thigh. He felt as if he were drunk, or rather, extremely hung over.
"You didn't mention convulsions as a reaction to that... Poison," she sighed, starting to calm down from her panic, "I thought that you were dying."
"But I wasn't. I'm fine... And I believe that my job here is done. My medallion... It's no longer humming. You are simply a young woman, who can go live her life."
"Of course.." Madeleine's shoulders slumped slightly, as though she were disappointed, and she nodded, climbing out of the bed and starting to gather her things.
"Madeleine, this was a means to an end. However pleasurable this was, and it was, I... Enjoyed myself... This was always a job." Geralt stood and regretted it, head spinning and legs aching. He didn't react to the discomfort, busying himself with getting dressed.
Now they stood across from each other, both only half dressed, as she still wore his shirt. The woman looked up at him with mixed emotions, her own clothes held close to her chest.
"I expect that now you want my money. You lifted my curse after all... And that's what Witchers do. Deal with commoners' problems in exchange for coin?"
"You don't owe me anything, Madeleine. I'm no Novigrad whore. I'd feel a bit odd for exacting pay from you after bedding you.. I will let you get dressed." he turned to leave, only to be stopped by her hand on his wrist.
"I'm sorry... I've never... Thank you, Geralt. Sincerely, thank you. This was not something you had to do. I suspect your dear friend would be rather upset by my presence... I'm under no delusion that this was anything more than a job for you. However... I feel... Strange."
"Strange? How so?" He turned back to her, concerned that maybe he had hurt her last night, physically.
"Like a weight has been lifted from me. I am free... I can live my life. I can go on, get married, have children, leave behind all of this... Mess. And it's all because of you. You can't blame me for holding you dear because of that."
"No... I can't."
There was a long silence, and finally she smiled, warm and truly happy. Geralt imagined this was the smile that her first husband probably fell in love with, a smile from before her troubles.
"I will dress now... And I will leave. Thank you, Geralt."
"Of course."
Geralt went downstairs, pleased to find a jug of fresh water on the table, and drinking deeply. The water helped a lot to ease the lingering symptoms from the decoction and before long he felt well enough to step outside into the sun. The warmth of its rays felt comforting on his skin, and even though one of the ladies from the kitchens was staring at his bare chest blatantly, he didn't care. He took a seat on the bench in front of the herb gardens, looking out onto the vineyard and breathing in the fresh air.
Despite his bravado and performance, he was relieved to be alive. He mused that once Yennefer found out she would tan his hide for tempting fate in such a way, probably Portal away and leave him high and dry for a week before forgiving him and keeping him in bed with her for a fortnight straight.
"Geralt..." he turned his head to see Madeleine approaching him, his shirt folded neatly in her arms.
"Are you leaving, then?"
"Well... I'm not sure where I'll go... But yes."
"I wish you well, Madeleine." he said as he stood, giving her a soft smile.
She was quiet, turning her attention to the vineyard for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping towards the Witcher. She gently pressed his shirt into his hands and leaned up, standing on her toes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you, Geralt, may you live long and happy, as you have allowed for me."
With that, Geralt watched the young woman start down the path that led out of Corvo Bianco, the sun starting its descent in the distance.
"Master Geralt, might I suggest putting your shirt on? The entire kitchen staff is completely off task." Barnabas-Basil approached from behind, looking over his spectacles.
Geralt looked over his shoulder, past his Majordomo, and smirked as he saw the gaggle of women shuffle back into the house. He did take B.B.'s advice, pulling on his shirt and crossing his arms over his chest, looking out to find that Madeleine had disappeared behind a thick grove of trees and out of sight.
"Something you needed, B.B.?"
"Not particularly. Although I will enjoy a quiet night of uninterrupted sleep tonight." he gave the Witcher a knowing look. "I thought you said she was cursed. A man would die from bedding her."
"Ah, you see, B.B., I'm no man.
I'm a Witcher."