the white wolf and the runaway princess

"I save peoples' lives and before the sun rises the following morning, they've already forgotten. They toss rotten food at me, they demand I leave, they charge me three times more than they would ever charge anyone else because I supposedly have the coin to spare. At times I do. At times.. I don't," Geralt said with a huff. He was content with his life if only because if he didn't like something, he could turn and leave it behind without a second thought usually. Like this particular city, Geralt wasn't so sure how he felt at the moment. He knew that he was attached to a particular princess but was that wise? There was no way for a princess and a witcher to be together, not without some other sort of intervention. Fiona hadn't been promised to him. Destiny wasn't going to push them together.

"We both have things we wish that we didn't. There are things we both wish we had. It's the way the world works," Geralt paused, raising his tankard to his lips. He tooka heaty swig this time around, only setting it down once he finished off the last bit of it. "The world has never been kind to anyone... no one at all. Doesn't matter who or what you do for others. People only care about getting ahead of the next person because it makes them that much more powerful."

It was something that Geralt had learned long ago. He supposed that it would probably be more difficult to stomach if he wasn't a witcher and even then, he'd met people that he pitied because he wouldn't even want for their existence.

"It's true the world is never kind to anyone, but everyone can find something that at least makes them happy, makes it easier..." Fiona chewed on the inside of her lip, not having expected to see a side of him like this, not tonight anyways. "And, it's not fair you're treated the way you are after killing the monsters that we're too afraid to admit even exist, but the world isn't fair just as it isn't kind. But that doesn't lessen the fact that I think you're worthy of the glory."

Her voice grew quieter the closer she reached to ending her little spill, quickly taking another sip of her wine. It may be weak, but she never drank and was starting to feel her face heat up slightly. Her body also seemed far more relaxed and loose, now that she was thinking about it. She tapped her fingers against the mug before she looked up at Geralt with her glassy blue eyes, her rosey lips parting slightly as she thought about what she was going to ask him next, almost wondering it would be inappropriate...

"You said you had a room for another night? Maybe we could get some privacy?" Her face was heating up for a completely different reason now and she hoped she wasn't crossing any boundaries. Fiona also knew what she was asking was dangerous, who knew where it would lead? She shook the thought from her head, telling herself she couldn't even fantasize about lying down with him... If anyone found out, before or after she was married, she could be executed, imprisoned, banished?

@ castle.

"There's no point in claiming any glory. I've nearly died more times than I care to admit. Count the scars on my body, you'll realize I'm not nearly as much of a warrior as you might want to think of me as," Geralt replied. He saw no point in pretending as if he was some great warrior that everyone should tell tales of. Sure, he was a knight and he was a witcher. Not everyone could claim that but it didn't change Geralt's mind any more than Fiona claiming that he deserved it did. Even if he tried to claim some sort of glory, it wouldn't change how the population felt about him.

Geralt fell quiet, his brows raising up when Fiona asked about his room. He had gotten a room for another night and her question left his mind reeling. Was it a good idea to retire to the room with Fiona in tow? That could only lead to a sort of trouble that Geralt wasn't so sure he wanted. But did he want it? The thought drifted into his mind and suddenly, it was all that Geralt could seem to think about. He did want it and was that so bad? No one would know. And it all depended on what Fiona was looking for because if she didn't seek, Geralt wouldn't so much as offer.

He gave a nod of his head after another moment of careful consideration. Geralt raised to his feet, deciding another tankard could be bought later if he needed it. For now, he was just going to indulge in the princess' desires. He smirked to himself, motioning her toward the stairs. Geralt wouldn't let her follow him, not wanting any of the prying eyes to get the wrong idea. Once they reached his room,, he was quick to unlock the door. He shoved it open, glancing toward her with a raised brow as he stepped to the side so that she could head inside.

Geralt pushed the door shut, his attention focused on Fiona. "It's not what you're used to, is it, princess?" Geralt teased, tilting his head to the side.

Fiona decided to stop arguing with Geralt, it was clear the man couldn't see his own worth, or his own accomplishments. She wasn't sure why, perhaps it was just the way witchers had been molded? Instead, she decided to focus on the way he tried to hide a smirk on his face. She focused on the way it caused her stomach to do flips. Standing to her feet, she moved away from the table and crossed before Geralt, moving up the stairs as he followed her.

The room inside was barren, a wood floor with a hay bed sitting in the corner, a small dresser pushed up against the wall with a single candle sitting atop it. Fiona stepped inside, further into the room before Geralt shut the door, causing her to jump just ever so slightly. She was very nervous, though she wasn't sure why. She knew she had no obligations to him, but still...

"It isn't." She shook her head, beginning to unbutton her cloak. It felt nice when she was finally able to slip the thick coat off, showing off the simple green dress she wore. She looked around the room before seeing a chair pushed up into a dusty corner. She tossed the jacket over the back of it, before turning back to look at Geralt. This was the first time they had been completely alone in each other's companies. It was harder now for her to ignore how handsome he was, how he towered over her, how she had never seen a man built so muscular.

"However, it's-" Fiona turned her head from side to side, looking around the room, "-surprisingly it seems more comforting than my own." The princess was sure it was because she was here with Geralt, and did not have anything to do with the room itself.

@ castle.

Geralt shifted his weight from one side to the other. While he was slightly uncomfortable, he did his best to hide this. It wasn't that he wasn't okay with Fiona was here but he knew what happened between a man and a woman when they were alone in a bedroom. There wasn't a whole lot of other activities that could take place. Geralt had to remind himself that he couldn't take advantage of Fiona. She'd had a drink and she was here because she trusted him. To hurt her when they both knew he would have to leave in a few short days, it wasn't worth it.

When she moved toward the chair, Geralt took it as his direction to move toward the bed in the corner of the room. He dropped down onto it, straightening his back against the wall. He groaned as his back cracked in protest, realigning where it had bent during the course of the day. Geralt looked up to her, blinking slowly. He wasn't going to make a move, especially not now but he wondered how he'd react if Fiona were to make the first move.

Fiona was a brave princess, there was no doubt about that. She was bold and wasn't afraid to do something so that she could enjoy it. If there was something meant to happen, Geralt would leave the ball in her court. "It's not a feather bed but at least it's a bed," he added, his lips quirking up slightly. He was teasing her because she was certainly more used to more luxurious bedding than what Geralt was sitting on at the moment.

Fiona hadn't expected to feel any bad emotions after leaving the ball and reuniting with Geralt. She had expected for all of her anger, sadness, annoyance to melt off of her while she was in his company, but instead, looking around this room, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Where did he sleep on the nights that he couldn't afford to rent a room? When he was too far away from any village or kingdom? She imagined his horse tied to a tree in the middle of a thick forest, the witcher lying on the cold ground next to a little stick fire, trying his best to fall asleep.

She hated thinking about it, but it was hard for her to shake the thought from her mind. Instead, she could only remind herself how she had complained about her situation to him, oh how hard it must be to accept a prince's hand in marriage? She felt disgusted with herself, but she couldn't help wanting something different than what she had been handed. She imagined sleeping out in the middle of a forest, with him, the stars hanging over their heads and the two of them trying their best to keep each other warm. It didn't seem to be so sad of a thought when she imagined him not being alone.

Turning back around to face him, she walked away from where she had thrown her coat and sat down on the bed next to him. "It is a bed." She confirmed, laughing slightly, a blush across her face from still thinking about going with him. She didn't even know how she could ask him. "When do you plan on leaving in the morning? I would like to bring you something before you go." It felt to dangerous to ask him to sneak with her to the castle tonight, fearing what might happen if they were caught. She didn't know why she would be worried about him getting caught, the witcher had to far quieter than she ever could be.

@ castle.

Geralt could practically feel Fiona’s guilt from where he sat on his bed. If it wasn’t for the frown on her face and the shifting she did as she stood, Geralt was sure that he would be able to detect it with his senses. His eyes narrowed slightly and he wondered if he should ask her what was wrong but before he could even finish that thought, Fiona was speaking again. He was more than thankful for the distraction because Geralt didn’t do good with emotions. He may have been aging, they may have been surfacing but he still had no clue how to actually respond to them. How was he meant to handle them?

His brows rose when Fiona joined him on the bed. Geralt cocked his head to the side and studied her with an intense gaze, not even responding to her statement that it was indeed a bed. It was only when she asked him a question that he was brought out of his thoughts. He looked away, trying to debate on how to answer her question. Leave before he told her to? It would be easily written off as an urge job... if he were to ever see Fiona again. There was certainly no chance of that happening at the moment.

“I do not need anything from you, princess. You have snuck out several times, in one day - to see more. Doing it again, tomorrow is risky. The closer together you choose to sneak out, the more likely you are to be caught,” Geralt pointed out in a low voice. He hated the disappointment that he felt but he knew that he needed to start putting boundaries in place. Fiona seemed to be getting attached to him and that was dangerous because there was no promise that he would return again. There was no telling when he would take his last breathe and certainly, where his next job would or wouldn’t take him.

Fiona licked her bottom lip, trying to disguise just how much disappointment she felt from his answer. "I sneak out more often than you realize." She knew she would listen to him, the more often she escaped the castle grounds the higher her chance of being caught were, but she didn't care. What would they do to her? Throw her in the dungeons? If anything, she would be locked up in her room for a while, guards posted around her doors and outside of her windows. Knowing he would be gone tomorrow, she didn't care to get caught at the moment.

"I know you don't need anything," Fiona was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed that she had asked to retire to his room. The tavern below them had just become a bit to noisy, too many people had entered and she had been growing hotter and hotter underneath the cloak she wore to hide herself from prying eyes. Had the idea of something happening between them crossed her mind? Yes. She didn't expect anything to really happen though.

Scooting back further onto the bed, she propped her back up against the wall, noticing the way Geralt's body was tensed. Perhaps, her company was bothering him, maybe he didn't want to have to be dealing with a princess in such manners? She chewed on the inside of her cheek, folding her hands over one another, not knowing if she was wanted or overstepping her boundaries. "I'm sorry, I know I'm much to eager-" She looked away from him, worried at any second he might look over at her and see the look on her face, "I don't have many friends, especially not ones that I can be myself around." She chalked her feelings up to that, not wanting to admit to him just how much she was growing to like him.

@ castle.

“Then princess, what’re you wanting to gift me?” Geralt countered almost before Fiona could even finish her sentence. He recognized that he was being unnecessarily mean to the girl but he thought it might be easier for her when he left. A breathe later, Fiona was explaining that she didn’t have many people she could consider a friend and Geralt felt even more justified. They had spent hardly any time together and she was attached to him already.

Geralt was left to wonder why he felt sorry for Fiona. She wanted more out of life but he knew what her fate held. He had been around long enough, he had met and encountered enough princesses to know what she would ultimately come to know in a few short years. She would be married off to a prince of a foreign land and be expected to give him children. A son first, preferably.

“You shouldn’t get so attached to me. I will die a violent death, one that they will not sing ballads about. Witchers are near extinction,” Geralt remarked. His gaze slid toward her and he gave her a rueful smile. “Then the world will remember us and long for the days when they could throw rotten food at us instead of the monsters they send entire hunting parties out to kill with a sword and a prayer.”

Fiona was tired of hearing him speak so negatively, trying to dissuade her from wanting to get to know him. Even now it was like he was trying to mock her, hurt her feelings for no reason she could see. Her attitude got the better of her and she decided it would be better just to say what she was really thinking, whether it ended up cutting their night short, or not.

She sat up on her knees, turning to face to the witcher, crossing her arms over her chest, "Well, too late. You've got a princess that's grown attached to you anyway. That's my own fault, but... I also don't regret it. Even if you leave tonight and never come back. I'll be sad, but I won't regret it. Sneaking out to see you these past few times have been the most exciting of my life, so I'm thankful for that at least." The girl's voice went from loud and confident tone, to barely above a whisper. The more she spoke, the more confidence left her.

Cursing herself in her head, she looked down to her hands, feeling her face blushing a bright red. Why did you say anything?? She was almost terrified what his reaction would be, scared that he would just tell her to leave. That was the last thing she wanted, but his mood had turned so sour, she half expected it.

@ castle.

(On my 15min break so idk how many posts I’ll get to!)

Geralt grit his teeth as he turned away from Fiona. She had just admitted herself that she was already attached to him and that worried him far more than it should have. He didn’t like the idea of anyone worrying about him because Geralt knew what sort of life he would lead. It wasn’t going to be pleasant in any sense of the regard and his death? It was going to be even less so. He grimaced, trying to sort through his thoughts as Fiona continued to speak. He wanted to demand that she leave his room, that she return to her castle and forget that they had ever met but in the very same moment, Geralt felt a sense of pain that he hadn’t been prepared. Shit.

“It’s not wise. One day I will perish at the hands of a monster... you will no doubt here about it. You won’t get the chance to mourn because what will people say, believe when you mourn the death of a Witcher you’ve never even met?” Geralt was trying desperately to reason with Fiona. He couldn’t help but feel like it was a losing battle that he had no chance at winning in the first place.

“Are there not ferocious princes that will indulge you with stories?” Geralt muttered. He nearly wanted to laugh. No, he already knew the answer to his question. Princes didn’t like to fight monsters when they could send a Witcher in their place with nothing more than a few shiny coin to persuade. “It would be easier. Less heartache that way.”

[i ended up passing the hECK out]

Fiona's face had the anguish she was feeling written all over it, annoyed that he wouldn't stop talking about his death. Speaking of it like it was just right around the corner. She supposed it could be, but what was the point of worrying over it, obsessing over it? "Stop it." Her voice came out stern and exact, sliding closer to him so that there weren't much room between them.

"I don't care, Geralt. Listen to me-" She forced him to look into her eyes, staring deeply back into his golden ones until she felt like she would get lost. "I don't care. I would rather have these memories to think back on if that day ever comes, rather than wonder what I could've experienced with you." She didn't realize it until it was done, but her hand was cupping over his, squeezing it gently. "Why do I care what some snotty nose royals will have to say to me, I hope to be rid of them some day. You said it yourself, down in the inn, you know I don't care about them, or what they think. Maybe one day, you will return here and hear about the princess that just disappeared." She was just speaking out of her head, now, but wasn't that what he had been doing? The mention of a strong, courageous prince was enough to make her break their stare, shaking her head as she laughed.

That was hysterical.

The princess hadn't been lying, though. The idea of just running away crossed her mind so often and with her father pushing marriage on her, something told her she might actually do it. "Please stop trying to get me to leave on my own, I don't want too. If you want me to go, tell me to go." Her eyes flickered back up to his, feeling her hands beginning to tremble from the anxiety.

@ castle.

There was something in what Fiona had said that made Geralt even more uneasy than he had been mere moments ago. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side, repeating the words that she had spoken like they were a mantra. The princess that disappeared. His lips parted as a sudden realization hit him. Geralt twisted to face her, his face hardened and his glare something that would make most tremble. Somewhere deep down, Geralt would feel horrible for how he treated Fiona but she did not deserve the life that she was so desperate for.

“You run away, you will be hunted for the rest of your life. Posters will be plastered everywhere, from one side of the continent to the other. Your father will not rest until he finds you. You will live your life, running and hiding and wondering where your next meal will come from. You will live in rat infested rooms and when you cannot afford even those, you will sleep beneath the stars While you debate if a fire is safe. Fire attracts predators and you know if you’re caught...” Geralt trailed off, praying that the weight of his words would finally sink in to Fiona. It wasn’t as if he was making up fairytales - in fact it was the exact opposite. He was pulling from his own experiences.

“That isn’t the sort of freedom you seek, Fiona. Don’t make a mistake like that because once you do, there is no going back. There is no crawling back and begging for forgiveness. Kings do not forgive offences like that,” Geralt did his best to reason with the young princess. He was trying to but he was having a hard time deciding if he was even being successful in any way.

Fiona's eyes flickered down to the bed, unable to withstand the way he was glaring at her. Her hand still lingered over his, she was unable to pull it away and she didn't want to. It wouldn't matter how hard he tried to convince her, or even if he started yelling at her, the princess's mind was made up. She would escape her father before he could force her to marry. She didn't want to be some little prince's wife, only there for producing children and nothing more. The idea of it almost made her sick to her stomach.

However, she did sort of let Geralt hear what he wanted to. "Then fine, but if I'm going to be forced to stay inside of a castle all my life... I'm at least going to need someone to come and tell me exciting stories." She scooted just a bit closer to the witcher, wanting them to stop bickering, wanting him to stop acting so cold to her. He wouldn't have returned to her kingdom, especially so soon, if he hadn't wanted to see her. She continued to tell herself that, finally looking back up into his eyes.

The princess couldn't help but wonder why Geralt seemed to care so much about what she did, or her safety, while at the same time, making her feel like she was unwanted. Fiona could hear her heart beating, thumping hard inside of her chest. The young girl was unable to keep her mind from wandering off to other places, especially when her gaze dropped and her eyes ran over his body, his muscles... She had never been so close to a man that she actually found alluring and she was finding it almost intoxicating.

@ castle.

Geralt inhaled sharply when Fiona took his hand in her own. He knew what the better option was here. He knew that he should pull away but instead, he found himself turning his arm over so that she could have a better grasp on him. His fingers twitched and he could feel an ache to tighten his grip on her hand but he didn’t. Already, Geralt knew that they were in far deeper than they ever should have been.

“And how would you propose that this person finds you when they are not invited into your castle? Sneaking into a castle is not easy by any stretch of the imagination,” Geralt’s voice was low as he spoke. It was quite as hard as it had been but he was trying desperately to keep the walls up because once they came tumbling down, Geralt didn’t know if he could rebuild them. Or if he would even want to. Without them, Geralt knew the chances of him making a mistake while out on a job would be higher.

“You don’t understand how dangerous this is, do you? There is nothing here to be had,” Geralt forced the words out, grunting just as he finished speaking. He refused to look at Fiona because he wasn’t sure what he would face if he did and he wasn’t sure that he could even handle it.

“A Witcher and a princess; it doesn’t even happen in fairytales. We aren’t knights in shining armour, princess.”

"I'm not asking you to be a knight in shining armor." She pulled away from him, feeling her body tense more and more with each word he spoke. It was a mistake coming here. She moved away from the witcher, her hand leaving his as she pulled herself up from the bed. "I should go." Within just a few seconds, she was at the chair in the corner, pulling her cloak back on quickly. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, her hands shaking too badly for her to steady them. The princess felt her face heating up with rage, knowing her annoyance for the situation had to be written all over her face.

Why did he even come back, if he was just going to... Her mind was racing with thought after thought as she pulled her long, brown hair from the inside of the cloak, throwing the hood up over her head. It was tiresome going day in and day out, miserable and lonely and now, she was just so disappointed. The young princess had looked forward to this meeting all day long, while she suffered through her duties and that wretched ball she had been forced to attend. She thought about him the entire time that sleazy prince was trying to feel her up. It was hard to process the disappointment she was feeling, all she wanted to do was run away.

Pulling the door open to the room, she looked back at Geralt and frowned, "By the way... wasn't asking you to sneak into a castle. I'm fully capable of finding my own way out. Goodbye, Geralt." Closing the door quietly behind her, she couldn't find it in herself to slam it, even though she wanted too. Hurrying down the stairs, the princess held the hood close around her face as she escaped from the tavern, stepping out into the dark streets of the kingdom. The sun had just lowered behind the horizon half an hour earlier, but she didn't need to see her way back to the castle.

@ castle.

Geralt nearly raises to his feet to follow after Fiona but he didn’t. He knew that if he did, he would cause more trouble for the princess. More pain and heartache that she didn’t deserve. He had to remember that. Perhaps the hardest part of it all was the way she spoke his name or the way that the door closed. It wasn’t loud and angry like he had expected but soft and quiet; a defeat that hurt Geralt right to his core.

He shoved to his feet and stormed toward his bag. Shoving what few things he’d pulled out back into it, Geralt slung the bag over his shoulder and reached for his sword. This room, tavern, city was suddenly suffocating and he needed to leave before he lost his mind. Geralt barged downstairs and didn’t chance a look back as he mounted Roach. Pushing the steed to run, Geralt only wished Roach was faster so that he could put more distance between them. With a promise never to return.

Except that’s exactly what he did nine months, sixteen days, and a few hours later. Geralt had just finished a nearby job when he heard whispers of a ball taking place the following evening. He’d intended on leaving but with that news, Geralt couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to go. He paid for the tavern, intent on resting until the next day. For once, Geralt felt at peace with having downtime instead of feeling antsy.

Fiona sunk deeper into the bubbles of her bathtub, trying to wash away her nerves in the water she sat in. Her father had told her she had to stop being so choosy, or sooner or later, he would make the decision for her. She wondered just how much more time she had left. The princess still had her mindset on escaping the castle before she could be forced to wed, going so far as learning to wield a sword. Under the cover of night fall, for the past several weeks, she had been paying one of the knights to teach her to fight, both with sword and fist. Between that and begging her father to allow her to learn to ride a horse and her duties as a princess, she had been a bit too busy to sneak out lately.

She often caught herself wondering if the witcher had ever returned, before forcing herself to push such thoughts away.

The princess jolted in the basin as the doors to her bathroom were flung open, her handmaidens entering without so much of a knock. It was time for her to get corseted and all dolled up. The ball would be starting soon, they only had an hour or so to get her ready. Stepping out of the water, she was met with three of the girls rushing to dry her off, patting all over her body with warm, fuzzy towels. Once she was all dried off, she sat down at her vanity and let herself get lost in thought as her was messed with and her face was painted.

Once one of the girls snapped their fingers in front of her face, she was brought back to reality, realizing they were trying to get her up so she could get dressed. The girls wrapped her in a loose pink silk dress, with little carved metal sleeve caps and chains crossing her chest. Her hair was loosely curled and atop her head, one of the girls sat her tiara down, before pinning it securely into her hair. The princess felt her heart in her throat when she turned to look at herself in the mirror. It was the same every time, she couldn't enjoy how beautiful she thought she looked, because she knew what was waiting for her down in the ballroom.

Fiona was rushed from the room when the bells could be heard chiming all through out the kingdom. The citizens would be let into the castle now and she should be there for them to see when they enter. "His name is Prince Daman Spyre, of ..." the maiden that escorted her down the hall seemed to forget which kingdom he came from, "...uh, well, obviously some far away kingdom. But I remembered his name! I think he's pretty handsome..." The princess let her mind wander elsewhere, the sound of her friend's voice disappearing gradually into the background.

It wasn't long before she walked down the grand staircase, once again, by her fathers side, until reaching the prince that awaited her at the bottom. And, once again, she was dancing with him on the ballroom floor, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The prince allowed no distance between them, forcing her to be pressed tightly up against his chest as they spun around the floor among the other couples who danced around them. Fiona allowed her eyes to drift around the sea of people, trying her hardest to ignore the grotesque things the prince was whispering in her hear, trying to ignore the way he complimented her body.

@ castle.

Geralt knew that it was a bad idea to be making his way into the castle. He knew it before he even departed from the tavern but he couldn't shake this need to check on Fiona. He needed to make sure that she was safe and that she was going to be okay. How he was going to manage that, he had no idea. Geralt was a witcher, there was no hiding that fact from anyone. He wore the medallion around his neck with a sense of pride that would never be shaken despite the brutal treatment that he often received from citizens. There was the distinct possibility that guards turned him away immediately upon trying to get inside so he would have to think of another way inside. Geralt knew that he would manage to but he would have to stay hidden. Throughout the ball. He continued to remind himself that he was only here to look, he couldn't take any action.

---

Hidden in the shadows, Geralt's gaze was trained on Fiona as she moved about the room. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he watched her move toward the prince. He sneered, his eyes narrowing into thin slits as the prince pulled Fiona close and started moving about the room with her. There was something about the look on Fiona's face that made his face morph. He grit his teeth, trying to resist the urge to step out into the open. Geralt turned, pressing his back against the pillar he was hidden behind.

The next time he leaned over to look, Geralt was utterly furious. Before he could even stop to think about his actions, Geralt stood tall and moved away from the pillar. Watching the prince with his hands on her body, with his mouth hovering over her ear made his stomach twist. He had no doubt in his mind about what the prince uttered and the way Fiona's arms were pulled tight was all the confirmation that he could have needed.

Geralt moved behind Fiona, his eyes flashing dangerously when the prince looked up. He held one arm behind his back while stepping to the side. "May I have this dance, princess?" Geralt uttered as the music slowed to a halt. He could feel the eyes trained on them, and he heard the guards before in but Geralt was hopeful that if Fiona accepted that they would be all but forced to back off.

Fiona hadn't noticed the man making his way up to where she danced until the music stopped and the look on the prince's face was filled with terror. She furrowed her brow, taking a small step away from him before she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide and she felt the urge to want to scream his name, her heart thumping wildly around, feeling as if it might explode from her chest. May I have this dance, princess? Ripping away from the princes grip, she turned towards the witcher and took his hand, completely oblivious to the looks they were receiving from everyone in the room, even her own father who had stood up from his throne.

The princess pulled Geralt away from the prince, grabbing his other hand and pulling it securely around her waist. She was unsure if the man even knew how to dance, but as she did this, the band slowly started playing again and the whispers disappeared into the background of the music as they swirled around the dance floor. The pair couldn't be lost in the crowd, not with how she was dressed and especially not with him standing taller than everyone on the floor. Fiona couldn't find the words to speak yet, instead just letting herself enjoy this moment. It had been so long since she had enjoyed a dance... Her eyes fell over him, his white-hair looked like it had been brushed neatly, the top half pulled back into a loose ponytail. It wasn't knotted and wavy as she was used to seeing it. Had he planned on this?

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." She kept her grip on him, terrified that any moment he would just disappear. Her fingers traced the fabric of his shirt, feeling what might be large scars underneath as her hands slid down his side. Am I dreaming? The last time she saw him, she was sure it was the last time. Instead, here they were, his arm wrapped around her, she was holding his hand with her other draped over his shoulder and they were dancing, not only in front of every nobleman in her kingdom, but also the king himself. Was he mad? How would she explain this to her father...? Fiona forced the negative thoughts from her head, only wanting to enjoy this moment in its entirety. "I didn't think you'd want to come see me again..." She swallowed, correcting her words.

@ castle.