Chapter Text
The horse’s hooves splashed into a puddle as the witcher entered Cidaris. A city at the edge of the Continent with a supposedly huge monster problem. As usual, the specific species of the monster was unknown, but this did not disturb the witcher. The pay was good, so he had accepted the job.
The people eyed him suspiciously, avoiding the path he was treading as his dark figure crossed through the town, the recent events earning him the name Butcher of Blaviken, had lowered a witcher’s reputation even more.
The glares did not bother him- as long as he got paid, everything was fine. He did not need anyone to like, he was just doing his job.
His horse whinnied slightly when they stopped in front of the Royal Family’s estate. He dismounted and tied his mare to a pole.
“Stay here, Roach”, he said quietly, patting her shoulder.
There was a commotion of voices when the witcher entered the hall. The noise died down, though, when he cleared his throat, making his presence known.
“Geralt of Rivia!”, the Lord cried out. “We are so glad you are here! Oh, a terrible thing has happened and we are inconsolable!”
Geralt grunted, pushing his hood off his head.
“Then I will tend to your problem immediately”, he answered, feeling all eyes in the room on him. There was a silence before the door flew open and a distressed woman entered.
“Where is my son?!”, she cried. “Where is my Julian? Where is he?” The lord approached her.
“Oh darling! You were not supposed to know, but the monster took our beautiful son”, he said softly to her. She looked at him, a strange expression that Geralt could not place crossed her eyes.
“Witcher!”, she yelled. “Kill the monster and bring my son back!”
The witcher hummed. “And where would your monster be?”, he asked calmly. A knight from the back of the room spoke up. “On the outskirts of the city, dear witcher, I can show you the perimeter but I will not go all the way.” Geralt nodded. “Then let’s be on our way.”
They rode in silence. The rain had ceased, yet still, the sun was hidden behind dark clouds. They stopped in front of a forest.
"I will not go any further. The count and countess want their son back alive, or otherwise they will only pay half. Good luck, Sir witcher", the knight said, before turning around and galloping back to the city.
"It's just you and me again, Roach", Geralt mumbled, gently urging her on.
Once they stepped into the forest, it was dark. The few rays of light could not pierce the thick roof of leaves above their heads. Geralt jumped off his horse, quietly landing on his feet. He sniffed the air, hoping to catch a whiff of the monster.
"Basilisk", he muttered to himself. "Wait here, Roach."
On unnaturally light feet, for his strong and tall frame, he moved over the muddy ground, making no sound. As the wind picked up, another unfamiliar smell tickled his nose. Human , ran through his mind. It had to be the count's and countess' son. His name is Julian , Geralt reminded himself. The witcher continued his way, sword drawn, ready to attack at any moment.
There was one thought, that would just not leave his mind. Why was there no fear in the human's smell? If he really was taken by the monster, why wasn't he scared?
"Your breath stinks, you know that?" a young voice broke the heavy silence, and was immediately followed up with a giggle from the owner of that voice.
Julian, Geralt thought. But who was he talking to?
The witcher inched closer, careful not to make a noise. He laid down on the slight hill, crawling forward to assess the situation. What he saw baffled him, left him speechless.
A boy was sitting against a tree stump, his brown locks sticking up in every direction. His side was turned to Geralt so that he could see his rosy cheeks. And on his lap, Geralt could still not believe it, laid a basilisk's head.
Well, not just the head. The head was still attached to the body, and the gigantic beast was behaving like a lap dog, letting the boy scratch its head and even trying to give back some of the affection.
This is not going to end well, Geralt thought, as pleased as he was to see the boy alive and well. It was nice to see that the boy had not yet learned to think in the prejudices that everything was inherently good or bad, but cuddling a basilisk seemed like a deathwish, even for the witcher.
Slowly, Geralt rose to his feet, the boy and the basilisk had still not sensed his presence. The witcher walked down the hill, sword steadily in front of him.
"Boy!", he called, startling human and monsters. "Get away from there!" Geralt started to run.
The boy scrambled to his feet, jumping in front of the monster, arms held out protectively.
He was trembling, and the smell of fear was now present in the witcher's senses, but the boy kept looking directly into Geralt's eyes.
"Please don't hurt her!", the boy cried.
Geralt looked down at the boy, seeing the tears in the big larkspur blue eyes, and, strangely, the reflection of his own yellow irises.
The boy bit his lip, a small trickle of blood running down his chin, as the witcher raised his sword.