To Heal A Lonely Heart

Like Our First Meeting

I woke up the next morning to birds chirping and soft sunlight streaming through the windows. All was peaceful, and for once, it didn't mean that something was watching us, ready to pounce; the calm before the storm. No, this peace was meant to last.

Lazily, I stretched and rolled back over to Geralt, moving even closer to him, climbing to lay completely on top of him, soaking up my husband's warmth.

"Good morning," he murmured sleepily. His raspy morning voice made me smile.

"Morning," I mumbled back, lifting my head to press a lazy kiss to his lips.

"Didn't you have plans for today?" he chuckled, attempting to move me off him.

I gripped onto him tightly.

"Noooo," I whined, "You're so warm." I pressed myself even closer to him.

Defeated, Geralt let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

"You're one hundred thirty years old," he muttered slowly, "How about you act like it?"

"That's not old," I murmured back, "It's like the human eviqua-" tiredness slurred my voice "equivalent of twenty-five."

"If you say so, my love," my husband's deep and warm voice rumbled through my ears. "But you wanted to go to the village. Not that I want to get up, but, if we don't go there soon, all the good stuff will be gone."

I groaned, not wanting to get off him, to leave his warmth, but realized he was right. I got up with a huff and walked into the washroom. Geralt followed, chuckling amused. We got washed up quickly, got dressed: Geralt in his usual clothes, minus the armour, and I in a simple dress I took from my old home.

Still, both of us hid daggers in our boots – just in case. Even if neither of us was defenceless without a weapon, it filled us with an uneasy feeling to leave without carrying at least one. Making a living out of killing monsters and all... It really fucks with your head.

Once we were done, Geralt grabbed a coin purse, as I had already stormed outside, we saddled our horses and made our way to the village. I conjured some bread for breakfast. On our way, I went through all things we'd need – again.

"I think, I can find some herbs in the forest. But we still need to look out for some in the village. Gods, we'll need so much. And not just to eat, we'll need to plant a lot, t-" I rambled.

Geralt, previously riding next to me with a smile on his face like a puppy following its mother and listening, interrupted my rambling with his deep, rough yet calming voice.

"Why don't we see what they have first, my love?"

I turned to him, slightly embarrassed, and nodded.

"Yeah... you're probably right. It's just... it's been so long since I had to go to town to buy food. Before we met - before you broke into my cottage," I smirked at the memory, "I had everything I needed in my garden."

He tilted his head, a playful-offended look on his face. "I didn't break into your cottage, the door was wide open," he argued.

"Oh, please! I know I had closed that door. Hell, I had even bolted it," I countered.

"You didn't," he smirked at me.

"I did! And even if I hadn't, no one came to my house, anyway. They hated me, but were too scared to get close, remember? That was why they had you go to me." I paused. "Did you sense me? That day." My voice was small. All – even though it was played the whole time – anger forgotten.