January 23rd, 2020 at 06:02am
The witcher stood in the throne room feeling like a cornered mouse. Soldiers all around the room had their eyes trained on him, hands on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw at any moment. He stood out like a sore thumb in the center of the room, dressed head to toe in black with his pale gray hair and amber-colored eyes, not to mention the two large swords he kept strapped on his back like a bow and quiver. He was intimidating and showed by how timid and cautious all of the soldiers moved.
"A cursed princess?" Geralt furrowed his brow, before looking up at the king. Why would anyone want to curse a princess? "And how have you come to this conclusion?"
The king instantly looked offended, almost completely outraged that the witcher would even hint at the idea he was wrong. "Every healer in the kingdom has had a look at her. They all say she is either losing her mind from insanity, or the curse of a witch!" Geralt's eyes fell back to the floor, already finding it impossible to speak with the king. It seemed to the witcher that the king's mind was already decided on what was wrong with his daughter. He supposed it could be a hex or a curse from someone holding a grudge, but it just didn't seem likely, unless someone was trying to get back at the king.
Geralt let out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. "What about my coin?" His voice was deep and low and upon his question, he could hear some of the soldiers whispering around the room.
Told you all a witcher cares about is silver... A poor girl could be dying upstairs and all he wants is a payday...? How heartless...
The witcher wrinkled up his nose and just rolled his eyes before looking back at the king. He couldn't possibly go around saving every cursed princess and slaying every foul monster on the continent without asking for some form of payment. He had to eat just like every other man who stood in this room. "You will be paid handsomely, witcher-" the king spat in Geralt's direction, his hand gripping the arm of the throne tightly- "after you cure my daughter."
Geralt huffed, letting his arms fall back to his side. "Fine then, take me to see this princess." He looked around the room, his eyes moving over each and every individual soldier, wondering which would be brave enough to escort the white wolf to the princess. A knight standing near the king's throne took a few steps forward, only giving the witcher an intense glare before he motioned for Geralt to follow him. Shaking his head, Geralt kept his head low and followed the knight out of the throne room, instantly relieved to be free of that suffocating room.
It was a long walk up to the princess's quarters. Just like in a fairy tale, they kept her tucked away high up in one of the many towers of the castle. The knight stood at the ornately carved wooden door, refusing to even acknowledge Geralt except for knocking just once on the door for him. Clearing his throat, Geralt pushed the door open with one hand, slowly peeking his head inside, "Princess?" His voice was no much softer and quieter, still rough, but not like it had been when he spoke with her father.