Work Text:
The duchy of Toussaint certainly knew how to celebrate. The gardens were beautifully decorated and bands played throughout the palace. The tables were lined with h’orderves and desserts and the wine was plentiful, of course. Couples swayed to-and-fro on the dance floor while children dashed around with masks and toy swords.
Yennefer had been the one to insist that they come. The duchess herself had invited them and, as much as she adored their home, she enjoyed a good party. It wasn’t often she got to enjoy a night without concern about politics and nobles played as easily as fiddles.
Yennefer leaned on Geralt’s arm when she heard the bard start singing a familiar tune and he kissed her hair.
“These scars long have yearned for your tender caress; To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own…”
She smiled at the bliss of it all. Her and her witcher, together.
Their peace was broken when a young boy, no older than eight, tugged on Geralt’s pant leg. Behind the boy stood two other young boys and a girl all carrying matching swords. “Master witcher, master witcher, I challenge you to a duel!”
“George!” hissed one of the other boys. “You said you’d ask politely!”
“I am!” The boy, George, shot back, then with a scowl added, “Fine.” He looked back up at Geralt, “Master witcher, would you place practice sword fighting with us for a little bit? I’m preparing to become a page so I can be a knight and I want to be the best of my year! I saw you at the Tournament and you’re the best in all of Toussaint!” The boy smiled widely, his eyes practically shining with glee when he wasn’t immediately refused.
He raised his eyebrow at them with a small grin. He squeezed Yennefer’s hand, “Well, I don’t know…”
“You can use one of their swords,” George quickly inserted, gesturing to his friends behind him.
Yennefer laughed, “Come now, my knight, are you really going to refuse a duel with such a vocal opponent? Winemaking is hardly keeping your skills sharp. Are you afraid he’ll win and usurp you as resident witcher?” The boy stood tall and jetted out his chin at that remark. She took a step away from Geralt with a peck on the cheek. “While you’re training, I’ll go give the duchess our regards.”
That was all the children needed for approval. George reached for Geralt’s hand and easily led him away.
“Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg?”
Yennefer turned and was met with on of the Duchess’ messengers. “Yes?”
“Lady Phillipa Eilhart has requested your presence at your soonest convenience.”
“Phillipa?”
The messenger nodded.
Yennefer cast a glance back in the direction Geralt went and then nodded to the messenger. “Lead the way, if you please.”
The messenger led her to one of the more private balconies overlooking the festivities. At the table sat a long sorceress with a wine glass in hand, her back turned.
“Hello, Phillipa,” said Yennefer, narrowing her eyes.
“Hello, Yennefer,” Phillipa gestured to the seat next to her, not bothering to turn to look. “Come, sit.”
“To what do I owe the honor?” asked Yennefer, smoothing out her dress as she sat. “Last I heard, you were securely in Emhyr’s favor in his court.”
“Yes, I suppose I have you to thank for that, don’t I? You were the one to arrange amnesty for the Lodge in Nilfgaard, despite not being a member yourself, and your failure to return his daughter to him alive left quite the opening for a court sorceress.”
Yennefer folded her hands on her lap and looked at the lake in the distance. “Did the Emperor send you? You know very well that if I could have protected Ciri that day I would have.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you fought the Wild Hunt as doggedly as you did for Cirilla’s sake and not the Continent’s. I know you and Geralt well enough to know you would do everything in your power to ensure her happiness and wellbeing.” Phillipa held her glass out for a servant to refill. “Would you care for glass, Yennefer? It is Sepremento. That’s the wine produced at Corvo Bianco, is it not?”
“Gladly,” Yennefer smiled, holding her empty glass to the servant. “Now, if not the Emperor, then Fringilla. I’ve told her I have no interest in Her Grace’s court.”
Phillipa nodded, “It was Fringilla who informed me of your latest residence and that I would likely find you here tonight. But, rest assured, I came here on my own accord.” She looked over the land assessingly. “Toussaint is rather beautiful. The mountains, the clear air, the clean water, the charming streets. It’s nice to be away from the rot and decay the war had brought on the north. The people here don’t fear strangers as thieves or kind gestures as anything more. I’ve even heard our dear witcher referred to as a guildsman, a master of his trade. In Vizima, he’s lucky to be treated as a step above the monsters he’s paid to hunt.”
Yennefer looked down on the crowds. The boys were now sword fighting amongst themselves while Geralt seems to have struck up a game of gwent with presumably one of the fathers. In the north, few parents would let Geralt play with their children without concern and then enjoy his company. The smart ones would mind their manners and be polite, but a witcher was only as welcome as the people’s need for a witcher’s work. “Her Grace has worked hard to preserve peace and social stability in the duchy. The people here hold a great amount of respect for tradition. Toussaint was fortunate the fighting was primarily in the Northern Realms as well.” Yennefer set down her glass and turned towards Phillipa. “What brings you to Beauclaire, Phillipa? I know it wasn’t the view.”
“What? Am I not allowed to simply wish to visit one of the realms of the empire to enjoy good wine with an old friend?”
“You always have more than one reason for doing anything. Perhaps you did come for the wine and festivities, but I know I am hardly your first choice for company. What do you want from us, Phillipa?”
“Not ‘us’, I have no need for the simple witcher. As for you, I don’t want for anything you haven’t already given. I want to be even. I do not like owing others.”
Yennefer raised an eyebrow at that. “Might I ask what I gave you? Last I checked, the amnesty for the Lodge was my bargaining chip to get you to assist me with the Hunt.”
“Well, the way I see it, it was actually Geralt I owed then. He’s the one who freed me from Dijkstra and provided me the opportunity to kill Radovid and all things considered, my role in the battle was minor I will admit. The amnesty for the Lodge and position I received from the Emperor because of you were not repaid by simply completing my dealings with Geralt. No, you have given me something and now I must return it. I will not allow you to hold it over my head.”
“And what is it you think I want?”
Phillipa reached into her satchel and pulled out a thick journal. “I’ve been researching more into the regrowth and repair of bodily tissue and human fertility. Don’t look so surprised, I didn’t do this with you in mind. Nobles put an egregious amount of weight on maintaining their ideal physical standards and capability of producing biological heirs. You’d be surprised what the wealthy would be willing to pay for such services.”
She placed the book in front of Yennefer. “Go on, take a look. I’ve cleaned up my notes, added to them a good bit, and compiled everything here. You’ll have to find your own workaround regarding your witcher though. I’m not interested in understanding what those mages came up with when they developed the mutagens and their effects on him.”
Yennefer flipped through the book. “Why do you think I even want this? I’ve come to accept my fantasy will stay just that. I’ve made peace with my choice at Aretuza.”
“I know you’ll want it because you’ll do what it takes to get what you want and you won’t stop if that’s a lead to follow. I heard about the Mask of Ouroboros incident on Ard Skellig and a goddess tree that died not long after on Hindarsfjall. Cirilla is gone, but now you have a house and a quiet life with your witcher. You two will grow bored soon enough and without Cirilla there’s nothing to distract you two from your mutual fantasy. I’ll be honest, I cannot say it will work, but you’ll try. I know it.”
Phillipa finished her glass and rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must give my thanks to Her Grace before I return to Vizima. Farewell, Yennefer.”
Yennefer didn’t look up as the sorceress left. She stared at the crisp pages. Ever since the revelations in Professor Moreau’s laboratory, she had longed to restart her search for a solution. The impossible felt ever so slightly more possible then, and now, now she has a new lead.
Their daughter was grown and outliving her life separate from theirs. Sure, Ciri came home every few months and was only a portal away, but it wasn’t the same as when she was a child. She’d always be their daughter, but she was no longer a child.
Looking over the sight of Toussaint, the fairytale realm of the empire, she ached for the happy ending she’d dreamed. She longed to feel her child growing inside her, the best parts of her and the man she loved. She wanted to baby to care for and a child to raise and love better than she was.
She gently closed the journal and teleported to her nightstand. They’d discuss it later. For now, she had an evening to enjoy with what she already had.
—
They laid together in bliss. Yennefer raised her head in the crook of his neck and relaxed at the sight of his thoughts. He always thought of beautiful things after they finished having sex, knowing she was looking and even more attuned than usual. She saw the rolling vineyards, the sunset over Corvo Bianco, mists just above a lake in the morning. She smiled at the perfection of the moment, the utter joy of just being able to lie with her lover in a home of their own.
Geralt brushed his fingers through her hair. Tingles of delight rushed down her spine. “Did you enjoy the party?” He asked, twirling a strand of her hair.
Yennefer sighed in contentment, “Yes, the people of Beauclaire certainly know how to celebrate. We should go back again next year.” Never before had they been able to make plans so far in advance. Not along ago, Yennefer used to wonder if she’d seen Geralt within a year. Now, she knows they’ll still be together in a year.
“We should,” agreed Geralt. “Especially if we follow it up the same way.” He kissed her.
Yennefer curled closer to him. She bit her lip and after a long pause, “Speaking of the party, I saw our mutual friend Phillipa.” She felt Geralt stiffen and added, “According to her, she was there as a guest of Fringella and not by the emperor’s accord.”
“What did she want?”
“For once, supposedly nothing. I haven’t spoken to her since I wrapped everything regarding the Hunt and Ciri and moved here. She seemed to think she still owed me for the Lodge’s amnesty. She gave me a book on her research, Geralt.” Her voice was quiet as she finished.
Geralt knitted his eyebrows together. “Her research? In her hideout, she was working on regrowing her eyes. Why did she think you’d want that?”
“Her research wasn’t only regarding eyesight,” Yennefer replied, curling her fingers, “In general, it was tissue regeneration. Organs. She was kind enough to include her research into fertility she’d done for nobles to ensure she wasn’t being too subtle. I haven’t told anyone what we learned at Moreau’s laboratory if you’re wondering.”
Geralt sucked in a breath. “What do you think of it?”
“Of what? Her research? The possibility of us having a baby?”
He shrugged. “Either, both.”
“I only looked at it briefly, but from what I could tell, it looked promising. I think, if we both wanted to, it'd be worth a try.”
“Do you want to try?”
“More than anything, even after all this time,” she admitted. “Do you?”
Geralt went quiet and stared at the ceiling deep in thought. “I’m afraid to get my hopes up, but yeah. I’d like us to try.”
“I think I’ll begin tomorrow then, but for now,” she kissed his neck, “Let’s enjoy the peace while we still have it.”