Stay, at least until Theora wakes up

Geralt woke up, stiff in multiple senses of the word. The dreamy scent of lilac and gooseberries faded from his nostrils, and he sat up. His back ached, still sore from the fight with the leshen. Slowly, he got himself together and began getting breakfast. Well, lunch, at this time of day.

Just as he finished, there was the sudden bang of a portal opening. Instinctively, Geralt grabbed his sword and dashed to the window, peering out at the harbor below.

Down on the docks, two lines of shieldmaidens were formed up facing the portal with their weapons raised in a salute, with Cerys in the centre. Two men stepped out of the portal: one was tall and had a pointed goatee, wearing diplomat’s robes, and the other was shorter and stockier, with blond hair and heavy chain mail armor. Seconds later, a third person with vibrant red hair and voluptuous curves appeared where the portal had been, and Geralt instantly recognized the beautiful figure of the sorceress Triss Merigold.

Wandering down into the Entrance Hall, Geralt waited for the delegation to arrive. Minutes later, Cerys entered, flanked by the knight and the shieldmaidens and already in conversation with the Koviri diplomat, followed by Triss, who smiled as soon as she saw Geralt and peeled off from the group. Dressed in a knee-length red dress with a plunging neckline and gold trim, and brown breeches underneath, she was even more striking than he remembered.

“Geralt, how are you?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he felt her breath lightly caress his neck. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Rather stiffly, Geralt reciprocated the embrace. “Didn’t expect to see you either. How’s Tankred treating you?”

“King Tankred is treating me fine, thank you. My skills are being put to good use when I’m not ferrying diplomats around.” She pulled back. “How’s Yen?”

“She’s fine. Looking into appropriate suitors for Ciri.” A distasteful look passed across Geralt’s face at that.

“Sounds fun. From what I’ve heard, she’s even trying a few of them on for size herself,” Triss said.

“I’m sure she is,” Geralt said, unfazed. “We – well, it was her idea – decided not to ‘restrict ourselves’.”

“Interesting. Not that you did before,” Triss smirked, flicking her hair suggestively. “Well, I really should get back to Bothren. See you around, Geralt.” She turned on a heel and walked away. Geralt could’ve sworn that she was swaying her hips more than usual.

Leaning against a post, Geralt browsed the notices pinned to the noticeboard. Nothing of any meaningful importance presented itself: the most **** plea was a message calling for a cat to be searched for.

“Mister Geralt?” a shieldmaiden asked from behind him.

“Yeah?”

“I was told you’d probably be around here. The other witcher, Theora, she’s woken up – Queen Cerys sent me to tell you.”

“Thanks.”

Theora was already sitting up on the bed when he entered. Her movements were slow and pained, and she grimaced as she chewed on a loaf of bread. Geralt couldn’t help sizing up her torso, which was naked apart from bandages covering her wounds and a cloth wrapped around her breasts. She was toned and fairly slim, without a single ounce of fat on any part of her body, and her breasts were clearly petite as a result. Her arms were just as wiry, muscle rippling under her tanned skin. Her shoulder-length brown hair hung in front of her heart-shaped face and obscured her amber, cat-like eyes.

She looked up as he entered. “You must be Geralt,” she smiled, and it occurred to him that she would’ve been quite pretty if it weren’t for her unnerving eyes. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said, holding her hand out for him to kiss. He shook it, and she rolled her eyes cheerfully. “Honestly …”

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked, resolutely ignoring her comments.

“Bruised, battered, and feeling like shit, but hey, that comes with the territory. And I doubt I’d be feeling anything at all if you hadn’t shown up. Thank you.”

Geralt nodded his head. “You killed the damn thing.”

She shrugged. “You provided a rather good distraction. I’d like to thank you properly sometime over a drink, if that’s alright.”

“Plenty of drink to go around in Skellige,” Geralt said. “How did a woman become a witcher?”

“I’ll tell you all about it over a mead,” Theora said. “In the meantime, I’d like to get dressed. Unless, of course, you want to watch?” Her amber eyes twinkled as she turned her back on him and began unwrapping the cloth from around her chest. “You still there?”

“Just leaving,” Geralt muttered.

“Skellige has always fascinated me, you see,” Bothren, the Koviri diplomat, began. “Your customs sometimes seem almost barbaric, and yet the people are so incredibly welcoming.”

He, Triss, Cerys, Geralt, and a small number of Cerys’ advisers were seated in the Great Hall, tucking into a feast prepared for the guests. Geralt was particularly pleased with having been seated next to Triss.

“I hope we don’t come across as too barbaric,” Cerys smiled politely.

“Perhaps barbaric was the wrong word,” Bothren said sheepishly. “A better way to put it would be ...”

Triss leaned over and whispered in Geralt’s ear, “Poor guy doesn’t really have a way with words.”

“Seems a bad trait for a diplomat,” Geralt murmured back.

“True. But he genuinely has a weird love for Skellige. I’m not entirely sure why.”

He let out an amused grunt. “So, any suitors in Kovir?”

“A couple,” Triss smirked. “**** young nobles, for the most part. The most interesting thing about them is how they manage to convince themselves that I’m merely playing hard-to-get, rather than simply ignoring them. It’s quite funny, really.”

“Can’t imagine you don’t have at least one in your pocket,” Geralt said.

“Stop, Geralt, you’re making me blush,” she said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Besides, I’m fairly sure I have a certain someone I can rely on to treat me right,” Triss said with a sideways glance.