Geralt and Yennefer and a brief return home by bbbeto on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

The air shimmered with a sudden intensity, and with a thunderous clap, a figure emerged from the rift in reality. It was Geralt of Rivia, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stumbled out of the swirling maw of colors and into a world that felt eerily familiar. His heart raced as the portal snapped shut behind him, leaving him panting and disoriented amidst the quiet countryside. He had been through this before, countless times, but never had he felt such an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. This place, these trees, that distant hilltop silhouetted against the setting sun—they all whispered a promise of home.

Ignoring the ache in his legs and the weariness that clung to him like a second skin, Geralt sprinted towards the horizon, the promise of home fueling his every step. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for any signs of life, any hint that he had truly returned to where he belonged. His heart leapt into his throat when he spotted a figure in the distance, standing sentinel before a cottage nestled in the embrace of a small valley. As he approached, the figure grew clearer, and he recognized the unmistakable outline of the woman he loved.

Yennefer.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stand still. The wind gently played with her hair, and the last rays of the sun painted her features in a warm glow. She had been waiting for him, her hand outstretched, her expression a tumult of hope and fear. Geralt felt his own stoicism crack as tears began to well up in his eyes. He had never been so happy to see her, to be anywhere, as he was in this moment.

Their reunion was a whirlwind of emotion, a silent symphony of joy and sorrow. Geralt had spent lifetimes away, and now, standing before the woman who had haunted his dreams, he felt the full weight of his curse lift even if for just a brief instant. She knew, she had to know, that this was not an ordinary homecoming. Yet she said nothing of it, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. It was a moment of pure, unbridled relief. But as they stood there, the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a reprieve, a fleeting gift snatched from the jaws of fate.

"Gaunter O'Dimm," he murmured into her hair, the name of the demon, or whatever that entity was, that had bound him to an eternal dance through the fabric of worlds. "I never thought..."

Yennefer pulled back, her gaze searching his. "I know," she said softly. "And I've been looking for you everywhere, trying to find a way to break the curse."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her unspoken fears. "Oh, no. Don't tell me, you...?" Geralt didn't dare to say it. Still his throat tightened, and he felt the beginnings of a new dread creeping in. He had hoped that this time, he could stay. That this world, this life, could finally be his to keep, but not at the cost of losing his beloved wife.

"I didn't make a deal," she assured him quickly, as if reading his mind. "I would never do that."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know," he said, his voice gruff. "But also, that doesn't mean I won't have to leave soon."

The sadness in her eyes reflected his own, but she offered a small, determined smile. "We'll figure it out," she said. "Together."

But as they stood there, the shadows grew longer, and the sun dipped closer to the horizon. And Geralt couldn't help but wonder if the very fabric of reality was already weaving its next cruel twist, ready to rip them apart once more.

Overflowing with emotions, suddenly, with trembling hands, Yennefer cupped his face, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You can't leave," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Not again."

Geralt's heart ached, a pain so intense it was almost physical. "I don't have a choice," he said, his voice barely audible. "But if I must go, I want to remember this moment, here with you, forever."

Her grip tightened, and she leaned into him, her forehead against his chest. "Then let's not waste the time we have," she murmured, her voice muffled. "Oh, and just so you know, our Ciri is safe, so you don't have to worry about her. She's visiting some friends in a town close here."

Geralt nodded relieved, his eyes slowly closing as he breathed in the scent of Yennefer's hair. He felt the warmth of her love envelop him, a balm to the chilling doubt that plagued him. For now, he was home.

Inside the cottage, the warmth of the hearth greeted them, the flickering fire casting a comforting glow across the room. Yennefer led him to a steaming tub filled with water drawn from the nearby hot springs, fragrant with herbs that soothed his weary muscles. He sank into the water with a sigh, his eyes never leaving hers as she undressed, her movements a dance of love and longing.

After his bath, she helped him into a clean set of clothes and led him to the bed, her eyes never leaving his. The weight of his armor and swords was lifted from his shoulders, replaced by the gentle embrace of soft blankets and her warm body. She straddled him, her eyes searching his, and in that moment, he knew that no matter what fate had in store for them, she was his, and he was hers.

Their love was a storm, a tempest that consumed them both. It was fierce and raw, reflecting the many months they had spent apart and the moments they had stolen from fate. They clung to each other, their hearts beating as one, their breaths mingling in the quiet night. As they reached the pinnacle of their passion, they whispered sweet nothings and promises of eternity, their bodies speaking a language that no words could ever capture.

Afterward, they lay in each other's arms and legs, their breaths slowing to a steady rhythm. Geralt's arms wrapped protectively around her, holding her as if she was the last bastion of warmth in a world that had grown cold without her. He knew he would fight to the ends of the earth to keep her by his side, to keep their little family whole.

Yet the whispers of doubt remained, a constant reminder that their time together was borrowed, that every second was a gift that could be snatched away at any moment. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.

They slept, their hearts bound together by love and hope, dreams of Ciri and the life they wanted back dancing in their minds. The night was theirs, a brief interlude in the epic saga that was their fate. And as they lay in each other's arms, Geralt knew that come what may, they would face it together.

Morning dawned with a soft light that crept through the cracks in the wooden shutters. Geralt's eyes snapped open, and for a moment, the warmth of the bed and the smell of Yennefer's hair were all that he knew. But as reality seeped in, he felt the panic rise, the cold realization that he had been dreaming once more. He was not in his own world, not truly. The room spun around him, and he felt the weight of his loss all over again as the scenery in front of his eyes looked different from the one he had just been with his beloved.

Back in the world he knew though, Yennefer sat by the fire, her eyes red and swollen from a night of tears. She held tight to the hand of her witch friend, the one who had helped her cast the small spell of comfort. "I had to," she sobbed. "I knew he couldn't bear the thought of leaving again, not after finding me."

The witch, a stoic figure with a kind face, squeezed her hand. "It was the right thing to do, Yen," she said gently. "But now we must find a way to bring him back for good."

Yennefer took a deep breath and wiped at her cheeks. "I know," she said, her voice stronger now. "We will. I won't lose him again."

The two women huddled together, their resolve a beacon in the early morning light. They knew the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but love was their compass, and it pointed unwaveringly towards the man they both cherished.

The cottage door swung open, and a gust of cold wind sent shivers through the room. A figure stepped in, her eyes gleaming with a newfound determination. It was Ciri, her hair a wild tangle from her journey. She had felt the pull of the magic that had brought her father home, and now she knew he had been there. In the arms of the woman she learned to love as her own mother, Ciri promised Yennefer that they would find him.

The room was charged with tension, the air thick with the promise of action. They had plans to find and keep him from slipping away again. And with the dawn of a new day, they already started to put it in practice, driven by love and the unshakeable belief that together, they could conquer any obstacle to reunite their little family. The fate of worlds might hang in the balance, but to them, it was only about bringing home the man who was their everything.