Work Text:
You carefully stepped outside of the house, testing the magical barriers. When you reached the fence, you felt an invisible force pulling you back within the limits of the plot. That wizard hadn’t been lying when he said you would not be able to leave, even in his absence.
Sighing in resignation to your fate, you resolved to picking up the clothes that had dried out in the sun. At least you thought that would keep your mind busy.
Your hands moved on their own, working automatically as your mind drifted despite it all. About how you ended up in that predicament and how you wouldn’t be able to outsmart him much longer. You shivered at the thought that the day would come that he might get his hands on you.
You mentally prayed for an angel that would end such cruelty. For a knight in shining armor that would rescue you, a gallant hero that could save the day.
Startled upon hearing footsteps, you were brought back to reality. You looked, frightened to see that twisted wizard had returned. Only to find with a different figure staggering as he made his way towards you.
You watched in shock, seeing as the strong burly man stumbled. Although he suffered from a clear injury that he clutched on his stomach, there where blood seeped through his clothes and onto his hand, there were no signs of pain in his neutral expression.
“Sir” You uttered, shivering slightly when your eyes locked with his strange orange ones. “Do you need help?”
The man paused, looking you up and down. You observed him as well, noticing his long white hair despite his apparent young age and his serious demeanor. The hilt of two swords were visible from behind his head. That man had to be a witcher.
“No” Came his deep grave voice as he continued walking.
Desperate to have some company to end your torturous loneliness, you tightly held on to his arm. He glared at you as all response, but didn’t pull away nor complain.
“But you are injured!” You exclaimed, worried about his tired and weak appearance, that you assumed was a rare occurence for him. “Please, allow me to help you. Do come in, rest for a while”
The witcher looked to the empty house, all doors and windows wide open. What he didn’t know was that, despite its openness, you were trapped in it.
In the end, he heaved a tired sigh and reluctantly nodded his head.
-
Geralt, as the witcher had introduced himself, kept staring at you even after you were done patching him up. The wound on his rib was nasty and would adorn his torso with yet another scar. Nonetheless, and despite your careful cares, he kept his swords close to him in the bed he was sitting in.
“Are you not afraid of me?” He suddenly asked you, lowering his shirt once more after you were done healing him.
“No” You frowned as you looked up at him, but he averted his gaze with a frown. “Why should I?”
“I’m a witcher, are we not mutants and freaks?”
“Perhaps you are different… Yet that doesn’t make you evil”
Geralt scoffed, but his hand finally lifted off the sword it had been resting over.
“It’s quite funny, actually” You smiled a little, gathering his attention once more. “I… was hoping someone would save me, that a hero would come… and then you appeared”
He cocked an eyebrow, seeming more fascinated by you than any human could ever be by a witcher. You sighed and stood up, cleaning up what you had used to patch him up.
“I’m not a hero” Geralt suddenly pipped up, startling you a little as his raspy voice echoed in the silence of the afternoon.
You didn’t reply, only shrugged. Nonetheless, you felt in your heart that he was not evil. Perhaps not entirely good either, but certainly not as awful as people thought witchers were.
“If not of me” He stood up as well, although letting out an involuntary groan because of his fresh wound. “What are you afraid of?”
Just then noticing your shoulders had been tense, you relaxed them. Every single noise was a threat, every slight movement a warning. You had learned to be alert for weeks and could not help those small gestures any more.
Paranoia struck you as you wondered if the wizard was somehow watching you. Oblivious to the extent of his power, you felt too afraid to speak up your fears.
“Are you alone, Y/N?” A sudden softness came to his voice, addressing you by your name for the first time since you both introduced yourselves.
“No” Your voice was barely a whisper, hoping that way the wizard wouldn’t hear. “He’s out but… will return soon”
You jolted up and yelped when Geralt wrapped a hand around your arm. The gesture wasn’t aggressive, but definitely urgent. Gulping as you gathered your courage, you turned around to face the witcher once more.
“Tell me”
“He might hear…”
“Who?”
“The wizard”
“He will not”
“I’m afraid that…” You licked your lips, suddenly feeling your mouth dry. “He will do… bad things… to me…”
You didn’t know how much longer you could be lucky for. How many more times he would fall for the inticing taste of the wine you offered him until he was too drunk to stay conscious. How much time you could buy yourself.
Geralt watched you without blinking, being so still that he resembled a statue. Finally, his eyebrows knitted slowly. His hand around you tightened carefully before letting go.
“Bad things…” He repeated, moving so suddenly that you cringed again. The witcher went back to the bed and lifted his sword. “Let him return”
The mixture of relief and anxiety that filled you was confusing. Despite his coldness and careless nature, he was willing to protect you. That moment you had been waiting for had arrived, you finally had a chance. Yet what would happen terrified you.
-
Geralt had wanted to comfort you as you expected his return, but didn’t know how. The wait was unbearable. The wizard had come back eventually. Chaos had ensued upon noticing the the presence next to you and how the witcher’s magic had broken through the barriers. Geralt wanted to rid you of that curse for good. First came a warning thrust of his sword that cut the wizard on the chest. When that wasn’t enough, there were stabbing motions that you found yourself participating in. Until the magic was lifted off you and the land. Forever.
Your heart was still beating frantically as you stepped out of the plot. After so long, your feet were touching grass and not the usual dry earth under your shoes. Your chest felt lighter when you breathed in fresh air that was not contaminated by the wizard’s magic.
Your whole body was shaking in excitement and fear of what might happen next. Of what had already happened. As Geralt helped you mount his horse, Roach, you couldn’t help looking back at the now abandoned house. At your hands that still hurt from how tightly you had clutched one of the witcher’s swords. At your clothes stained with the wizard’s blood. Despite it all, you were now free.
You stared at Geralt’s back when he urged the horse on and you started moving.
The witcher just couldn’t understand how you had trusted him enough to invite him in. How you had been kind enough to treat his wounds when anyone else might have thrown him out merely for being a witcher. How you had hoped he would help you. And even if he did, he could not believe your words. He was not a hero. But he trusted you, and was willing to return the favor.