To Trust a Witcher

Late Night Talks

I gasp awake. 

Thrashing on my bed, I slip over the edge and land on the stone-cold hard ground. I bite my lip to prevent me from letting out a whine as my knees hit first. 

The blanket comes down after me, draping over my body.

My breathing is fast, and my heart matches its pace, as if I've run up a mountain. There's wetness on my cheeks. 

No matter how hard I try, I can't shake the image from my head. 

I first saw my grandmother's death, but that is not too unusual. My grandmother's death is shown in almost every couple of nightmares. 

But what I've never dreamed of before, is Geralt.

I saw him die.

He took a spear to his chest to protect me. The need to cry washes over me as I remember the end of the spear poking out of his back. His alarmed face. The way he whispered my name before he fell and told me to run.

I shake as I climb back up to my feet, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around me like a cloak. Even the blanket's warmth can't calm the tremors raging through my body.

I hate my mind for making me watch him die.

Was my mind showing me what will happen, if I stay by his side? Am I putting him in danger by being here? Perhaps it is best if I leave. I don't want to bring death and terror to the keep. Coen is right to be distrusting of me. I will be the death of them all.

I realize that the tears haven't stopped. Instead, they have picked up. I wipe them away with the back of my hand and look at its glistening mark on my skin. Why can't I be strong, like Geralt and the other Witchers?

And then I freeze as I realize, what if the dream was trying to warn me that something has happened to Geralt? An omen of some kind.

I dash out of my room, the door creaking sharply as I shove it open. There are some torches flickering outside, bringing light into the hall, but no one is roaming around, and I don't hear anything either. All of the Witchers must be sleeping.

Despite there being no sign of an attack, my heart pounds as I look left and right. Where is Geralt's room? Eskel mentioned that he is next to mine. I remember scoffing at his added comment, wondering why I would need Geralt in the middle of the night.

Well, here we are. 

I go towards the left, assuming that Geralt would pick the one closer to the exit. Standing in front of the big wooden door, I raise my fist to knock-

And stop.

And think.

And realize I'm being stupid. 

I chastise myself. It was just a dream. It can't be a future prediction because my grandmother died in that same dream, and that has already happened, about a year ago. The dream of Yennefer that I had a week ago was different- felt different. I know this one was just a nightmare, nothing more attached to it. I'm just uselessly panicking about it. Geralt is fine. I'm sure I will see him and his usual stoic self tomorrow morning.

I take a step back from the door, but I still hover. He told me one of the previous nights, that if I ever needed anything, I can come to him. I feel all alone. I wish it was easier to talk to him and to trust him. But it wouldn't be fair to him. To avoid him and then to reach out to him only when I need something from him. Then, I would just be taking advantage of him, and I don't want to do that. 

I'm about to turn away when the door opens. Geralt's amber eyes almost glow in the light of the torches as he looks down at me.

"Geralt!" I am so relieved at seeing him unharmed and alive that I forget myself and immediately throw myself at him.