To Heal A Lonely Heart

Crimson Lips and Poisoned Smiles

"What do you want here, Yennefer?" Geralt's low growl ripped through the silence.

"Mh, so it really was you in the village," she purred, not at all surprised to stand face to face with the witcher.

I hated that her voice sounded like black velvet, smooth and seductive. Fear clutched my heart, stealing my breath. I knew, now that Geralt had taken the potion her spell wouldn't affect him anymore, – for as long as the effect of the liquid lasted, at least – but I still feared she could steal him away from me. Absurd, I know; he had sworn over and over again that he belonged to me and I belonged to him, but there was no denying that this woman in front of us was simply stunning; a dark beauty, a temptress.

With a small wave of my hand, I lit the candles around the room.

"That doesn't answer the question," I hissed at her. I had to bite back a triumphant smile as she spotted me. To say she was shocked would be exaggerated, but she was taken aback to say the least, mouth gaping slightly. But she quickly collected herself. The smile on her crimson-painted lips dripped poison, but I didn't let it faze me as I stepped closer to Geralt, letting him wrap a possessive arm around my waist. His touch put my mind at ease, confirmed his promise. He belonged to me and to me alone.

"And who are you?" her velvet voice sounded through the room.

Before I could speak up, Geralt growled at her, "She's my wife. Now. What. Are. You. Doing. Here. Yennefer?" His voice was low and threatening, pressed out through clenched teeth.

"Your wife, hm?" She eyed me, violet orbs scanning my entire body, not only my face. It made me feel more than self-conscious. Still, I stared back at her, a smouldering fire of anger behind my eyes. "She's tiny," the sorceress mocked, "Doesn't she break every time you touch her?"

I only glared at her.

Gods, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. No, no knife. It was too thick, the knife would break. With a sword. The pressure of it made it hard to breathe.

"I will not ask again," Geralt growled, almost spat, at her, ignoring her remark, his eyes blazing just as mine.

She tore her eyes off me, facing the witcher with an arrogant smile. "Oh? Am I not allowed to show up at your house in the middle of the night, now? Like you showed up at mine."

"No, you are not. There is no reason for you to be here."

"I saw you in the village. There was a little boy with you. Who was that?" she asked, ignoring his words.

My jaw and fists clenched, and I was suddenly reminded of the dagger in my hand that was hidden behind my husband's back as I gripped it tightly. Why did she ask about Crevan? He was absolutely none of her business.

"No one you should care about," I hissed at up her. Damn, she was tall, making me feel so small.

"Hm," she laughed, not even glancing at me.

Geralt squeezed my hip gently, soothingly, before answering the sorceress's question. "The boy is my son," he pressed out through gritted teeth, "If that was why you're here, then you can leave now."

"No, that's not why I'm here for," she purred again, completely ignoring my presence, "The people in the village told me a witcher lived here and I just had to see for myself."

"Alright, listen," I hissed, fed up with her, "If you're not here because there is a monster to kill or need a healer, then leave."

"Talking big for such a small girl, hm? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, little one?" she teased with a poisoned smile.