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When you first heard the news, you didn’t believe it. After years of little to no interaction, with him focusing on fighting monsters and wandering in solitude instead of returning to Kaer Morhen, your closest friend was coming back.
You’d believe it when you see it.
When Eskel rushes over, eyes light with excitement as he announces Geralt’s arrival, it takes you a moment to register what he’s saying. He left years ago, without a word, and now he’s finally home. Reluctantly you follow Eskel, hearing the relief that Geralt is alive and well and not wanting to ruin his visit with the White Wolf.
Vesemir’s voice booms down the hall as you both approach, and you’re thankful to be able to linger back towards the shadows as you quietly study him. Despite his clear relief to be back and see everyone, the years haven’t been kind to him- he’s exhausted and ragged, cuts and bruises still healing despite his efforts to hide them. You notice his amber eyes scanning the hall until they finally land on you, relaxing in a way only you can see, but you turn away and focus on Vesemir as his hand lands on your shoulder. “(Y/N), have them prepare a feast. Everyone is finally home.”
You nod a bit and turn, trying to move quickly enough to avoid Geralt as you move the thin cotton skirt of your dress out of the way. You always wanted to be a Witcher, like the others who were raised with you, but Vesemir never wanted that, letting you extend your life but not willing to risk you being destroyed by monsters like the others. He never stopped you from training though, even if you were forbidden to join any hunts and only fought when there was no other choice. You get everything set up, mentally cursing when Geralt’s seat is across from you but still making a point not to look at him or acknowledge him. Part of you was hurt- years of being close, being told how important you are to him yet him not bothering to send you anything, seeing letters to Vesemir and Eskel and everyone else he grew up with but you. You needed time to think, and this time was here too soon.
“(Y/N) kept your room the way you like,” Eskel grins, nodding to you and drawing you from your thoughts as you realize who he’s speaking to. “It should be ready for you, Geralt.”
He hums, and from your peripheral you can see him watching you while he takes a long drink. “Perhaps you can show me how your training is going.”
You ignore him, turning to Vesemir. “Have you heard from the others?”
He releases a breath, leaning back. “Every year, fewer Witchers return. This year has the most losses.” I nod, fiddling with my food until he speaks up again. “(Y/N), escort Geralt to his room. I want you to show him where we moved the supplies.”
You fight the urge to sag, knowing that won’t win you any favors with him. “Of course,” You wordlessly rise and head down the hall, not waiting to see if Geralt is following but hearing his long strides to reach your side. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Now you wish to speak to me?” You open the door to his room and step inside, heading over to the cabinet you restocked for him and hearing the door close behind him. “Everything should be here, there’s plenty to take back with you,” You pause when you hear the lock click, sighing a bit. “Are you really going to make me fight you?”
“Not if you talk to me,” Geralt crosses his arms, watching you and keeping himself tall and intimidating. They always make you nervous when they do that, but you know they could never hurt you.
“I am,” You turn and cross your arms, meeting his glare with your own. “Let me go, I have no problem fighting my way out.”
He chuckles a bit darkly. “You could never beat me,” He stalks a bit closer, and it’s not until he’s a foot away that you finally back up. “I have ways of making you talk.”
You frown, having a bad feeling in the bit of your stomach. “I’m not as weak as I was when you left.”
He hums, smirking slightly and eyes bright with victory. “So it’s because I left, hm?”
You scoff, turning and moving towards his bed to get some space. “Don’t flatter yourself, Witcher.”
Geralt moves suddenly, gripping your arm. “So now I’m Witcher?” He tugs hard enough to force you closer to him, eyes seeking yours. “I won’t you ask again.”
“And I won’t warn you again,” You jerk your arm out of his hand, moving towards the door, but suddenly you’re lifted from the air and tossed onto the large bed. “What are you-“
“Stamina testing.” He straddles your hips and holds your wrists in one of his large hands, his free one tickling where he can reach. “You always were stubborn, weren’t you.”
“No!” You buck, giggling and trying to fight him off. “Geralt, you piece of-“ You squeal when he focuses on a more sensitive spot, laughing.
“Of what?” He smirks a bit as he watches you. “Your stamina seems to be fine, but perhaps you could show me by telling me the truth.”
“Fuck off!” You help, laughing when he shifts to use both hands to tickle everywhere and leaving you unable to block him. “Ok! Get off!”
He stills his hands, letting you giggle as you catch your breath. “Are you going to be honest with me, little one?”
You flush a bit, still tensing in hopes it will encourage him to stop. “You just… You left, Geralt. You never said another word to me, and now you expect to just come back like nothing happened.”
He sighs a bit, brushing hair from your face. “I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t risk sending a letter to anyone but Vesemir, if people discovered you… There’s no Witcher left that wouldn’t fight for you.”
You bite your lips, unsure of that. “I’ll try. That’s all I’ll promise.”
Geralt smirks down at you, eyes surprisingly gentle- the way only you see. “Deal. Now,” He tugs your hands back over your head, ignoring your squirms. “Let’s see how else your stamina could use improvement.”