#the witcher fanfiction

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count:2.6k

Warnings:Language,

Previous Chapter

Chapter 11-

Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking away the fuzziness as you took in the scene around you.

Coen was sitting on the ground across the room, his head in his hands, the potions that he grabbed broken on the ground beside him. The few remaining Witchers were all standing around the room, their heads lowered.

Ciri was crying in Yennefer’s arms while Lambert paced the cafeteria, kicking any object in his path as he swore every word under the sun.

Then there was Jaskier, who was sitting on the ground beside you, hugging his knees to his chest as he cried softly, his face buried on top of his knees.

Suddenly, realisation hit you; they all thought you had died.

Holy shit, they thought you were dead.

Wait, were you?

You looked down at your body, but frowned in confusion because the stab wound was gone. It was completely gone… what the fuck?

You tried to move, but something was holding you and you quickly realised it was Geralt. His arms were wrapped around you, cradling your body to his chest.

“What-what happened?” You asked, your voice hoarse as you spoke.

Geralts entire body suddenly turned tense before he looked down at you in his arms, those golden eyes filled with so much sorrow and sadness as he blinked away the tears.

“Y/N?” He whispered, looking at you like he was staring at a ghost. “You’re… you’re alive.”

That seemed to catch everyone’s attention as they all looked over at you in shock, but your attention was purely focused on Geralt, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Slowly, he lifted one of his hands, cradling the side of your face gently as he brushed his thumb over your cheek.

“You’re alive.” He whispered again, unable to believe it.

You nodded, resting your hand over his.

“I’m here.” You reassured, trying to ease his pain. “You can’t rid of me that easily.”

Jaskier let out a laugh, but sounded more like a happy sob. You slowly sat up, Geralt helping as you looked around at the others.

“How?” You asked, turning back to Geralt who nodded towards someone across the room.

You followed his line of sight to find Yennefer standing beside Ciri, smiling softly at you.

Wait, she healed you? Yennefer had saved your life?

“You got your powers back.” You said, pointing out the obvious and she nodded, seemingly speechless. “Thank you.”

Ciri began to walk towards you hesitantly with each step, her eyes puffy from crying as she stared at you.

“I-I’m so sorry. This was all my fault-” The girl started to apologise before you cut her off.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetie.”

You stood up, Geralt quickly standing too, his hands hovering behind you in case you fell, but you were fine. You were completely fine and couldn’t believe it.

“This was out of your control. It’s not on you.” You added, looking at the girl.

Ciri nodded, biting her lip as tears started to rise in her eyes before you took a step towards her, holding your arms out and she rushed forward and hugged you tightly.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, running your fingers through the girls hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Geralt stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the two of you, kissing the top of your head while he hugged you both.

Eventually, Ciri stopped crying and you pulled away, giving the girl a gentle smile before you looked around at the others, spotting Lambert standing off to the side, fiercely wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Is that emotion I see, Lambert? I didn’t know you were capable of such thing.” You teased causing him to shake his head as everyone chuckled.

“Fuck off, I just had sweat in my eyes.” He responded with a laugh, but you could see the smile forming on his face as he looked over at you. “It’s good to see you breathing though.”

“And make sure you stay that way, alright? I cannot possible go through something like that again.” Jaskier said dramatically.

“It would’ve made one great song through, right?” You asked, causing Jaskier to laugh despite the tears in his eyes.

“I mean, I may or may not have been working on the lyrics in my head while mourning your very traumatic death, but-”

“Jaskier, shut up.” You chuckled, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“You are okay, though, right?” Jaskier asked, pulling away as he looked you up and down.

You smiled, “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks to Yennefer.” You said, glancing over at the mage with a grateful nod.

Never thought you’d see the day where you would be grateful for Yennefer’s presence, yet here you were. Although, that did not make up for what she did though. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N. We all thought we had lost you too.” Vesemir said, speaking up for the first time.

You looked over at the older man before you glanced around at the carnage left over from the fight. The bodies of your fellow Witchers that didn’t make it, lying dead on the ground.

Geralt walked back over to you as you stared at their bodies before he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“We’ll give them a proper send off in the morning. I think we all need some rest.” He said, kissing your forehead as he held you tightly.

-

That night, you laid in bed facing Geralt who was running his fingers through your hair gently as he stared at you, like he was still trying to reassure himself that you were alive.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, lifting your hand and resting it over his bare chest.

“Hmm.”

“Geralt.” You sighed, looking at him, but he refused to look you in the eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

“It was.” He muttered softly.

“It wasn’t.”

“It was. You died, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, death doesn’t stick with me.” You said, trying to lighten the mood, but Geralt just glared at you.

“I’m being serious.”

“Yeah? So am I. It wasn’t your fault and I am not letting you shoulder the blame for this.” You said, causing him to lift his head, those golden eyes locking with yours.

“I nearly lost you.” He whispered, his voice filled with such raw emotion.

“I’m still here.” You reassured, shuffling closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into him. “I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt Geralt nod as he held you, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you laid in bed listening to the others heartbeat.

“Ciri and I need to keep moving.” He eventually said, breaking the silence. “The demon, the Wild Hunt, she’s marked for something and it doesn’t end there. If mages and royals find out she’s still alive and what she’s capable of… they won’t stop coming for her.”

“Then we leave.” You declared, tilting your head up to look at him. “We keep moving and we keep her safe.”

Geralt nodded, relief washing over him with your answer before the bedroom door suddenly opened and you both looked across the room to find Ciri hesitantly stepping into the room, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“I-I’m sorry. Can… can I sleep here tonight?” She whispered, her trembling voice sounding so scared as she looked between you and Geralt.

“Of course.” Geralt answered without hesitation.

You sat up, shuffling over, making room for her between you and Geralt as you waved her over.

“I’m sorry.” She apologised, looking guilty as she crawled into the gap between the two of you.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” You said gently, laying back down as you looked over at her, smiling softly. “Try and get some sleep.”

Ciri nodded, curling up in a ball and closing her eyes as Geralt looked over at you and mouthed ‘thank you’ while nodding at Ciri.

'Of course.’ You mouthed back, before you blew out the candle and tried to sleep.

-

Trying to sleep turned out to be impossible, but Ciri had managed to fall asleep, so you just laid there, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.

You knew Geralt was still awake and he probably knew you were still awake too, but neither of you acknowledged that, not wanting to risk waking the girl. She had been through so much, she deserved at least one good nights sleep.

So, the two of you just laid there until the sun started to rise.

Once the fallen Witchers were laid to rest and the keep was cleaned of most the carnage, it was close to nightfall again. The others all disappeared off to their rooms to try and get some sleep after no doubt getting none last night. 

Slowly, you walked down the corridor, but stopped when you heard Geralts voice coming the cafeteria.

“You’re whole again.”

You stepped through the open door to find him and Yennefer standing in the middle of the room together, nobody else inside.

“I felt it come back when I…”

“When you sacrificed yourself for Ciri.” Geralt said, finishing the sentence for her.

“A sacrifice I’d make again. In a heartbeat.” She responded, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

You sighed, leaning against the doorway, waiting to see how this would play out. Fearing that Geralt was going to choose her, again.

“I don’t forgive you, Yennefer.”

“I know I’ve hurt you. And I hurt, Y/N. And I’m so sorry for it.” She said softly, surprising you a little.

Geralt nodded, “use your knowledge of magic to train the girl. You’re the only person who’s helped her control her powers.”

“As if I’d trust anyone else with her.”

“Villentretenmerth told us we were made for each other. Destined for each other. And that nothing would come of it because destiny alone isn’t sufficient. Something more is needed.” Geralt started to say before he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.

“But, there is nothing more, is there?” She asked softly, already knowing the answer as Geralt shook his head. “You have Y/N. I don’t want to get in the way of that, not again. If she’s okay with me helping Ciri, I will stay and help.”

“Thank you.” Geralt said sincerely.

He rested his hand on her shoulder as she smiled at him before walking out the building where Ciri was, leaning against the railing outside in the snow.

You didn’t move from where you stood, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You don’t need to hide in the shadows.” Geralt suddenly called out, slowly turning to face you.

Right, he was a Witcher too. He probably knew you were watching the entire time.

“You’re made for each other… destined for each other or whatever. You sure this is what you really want?” You asked, stepping into the room. “I mean, look at me and then look at her and… fuck, Geralt, I know I don’t stand a chance against her and now she has her powers back too and-”

You didn’t get to finish what you were saying before Geralt marched over to you, lifting his hand and cupping the side of your face before pressing his lips to yours, silencing you instantly as he kissed you.

Your lips fitted together perfectly as you melted into his kiss, his other hand shifting to your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

“I choose you, Y/N.” He whispered against your lips.

The two of you pulled away as Geralt rested his forehead against yours, brushing his thumb across your cheek gently as he continued to talk.

“It’s always you. I love you, little one. I love you so much.”

You lifted your hand, resting your index finger under his chin, tilting his head up, those beautiful golden eyes locking with yours before you leant forward and kissed him.

“I love you, Geralt." 

He looked down at you through the hair covering his face as you brushed it behind his ears. He smiled softly at you before taking your hand with his, lacing your fingers together as the two of you walked outside where Yennefer and Ciri were.

Ciri glanced over at the two of you, giving you a smile from where she was sitting, dangling her legs over the edge of the bridge while Yennefer sat beside her, looking over at you almost nervously.

You gave the mage a reassuring nod, trying to silently tell her that two of you were okay and she seemed to get the message as the tension realised from her shoulders and she smiled gratefully at you.

"I believe I know what Voleth Meir wanted from you.” Geralt suddenly said, leaning against the railing of the bridge as he looked down at Ciri.

“What?”

“She’s been here since the Conjunction. We knew that. We’ve always assumed she was from another sphere.”

“Is that where I portalled us? Another sphere?” She asked.

“Those monoliths that you shatter, the ones that pull new species of monster through every time you scream, those could be gateways to other spheres.” Geralt explained as you leant against the railing beside him, taking in the view of the snowing mountains around the keep.

“My scream woke Voleth Meir.” Ciri said in realisation and Geralt nodded. “That’s why she wanted me.”

“She wanted to go home. You were the key to her future. What I can’t figure out, though, is when did Nilfgaard realise that you were the key to theirs? They knew before anyone else. How do they know the truth about you, Ciri?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. We’ll work it out, right?” You said, looking over at Geralt and Yennefer who both nodded. “We’ll leave here, head out west and see where the Path takes us.”

“I like the sound of that.” Ciri agreed happily causing Geralt to smile with relief as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Then that is exactly what we’ll do.” Geralt responded.

“Do you guys have room for one more travelling companion? Perhaps a humbled bard?”

You chuckled softly as you looked to you right to find Jaskier walking out the building, holding his arms out, awaiting an answer.

“No.” Geralt responded at the same time you, Yennefer and Ciri all said, “yes.”

“Three against one. Majority rules.” Jaskier quickly said, walking towards the group with a grin. “Sorry Geralt, looks like you’ll have to get used to my singing again.”

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted causing you all to start laughing.

“Oh, and I can now be of more use too. As you’re dear lady had pointed out earlier, I am now a man with muscle. I can lift heavy things… well not too heavy and it depends on what I’m wearing too because-" 

"You pointed out his muscles?” Geralt asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, please. I was dying, I don’t even remember saying it. But, don’t worry they’re nothing compared to your muscles.” You said, squeezing the bicep of his arm that was still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Okay, rude.” Jaskier responded, pointing at you. “But, he does have fairly bloated biceps though, so I guess that’s fair." 

Everyone lost it laughing and nodded in agreement causing Geralt to roll his eyes with a smile. 

Life as Witcher was never meant to be good. You were just meant to kill monsters until eventually one killed you. Witchers weren’t meant to have a whole life for themselves, they were meant to feel or have emotions. Their lives weren’t meant to be good. Everyone knew that.

But, as you looked around at the group, watching them all laugh and joke with each other, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, because, yeah, this was a good life and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

MASTERLIST    |    TIP JAR

Next Chapter

A/N-

Well, that is the end of Season 2!

This story will be put on hold for the time being until Season 3 gets released… which might be a while, but I promise, I will continue y/n and Geralts story in the new season.

I’d just like to quickly thank you all for your continuous support. I was absolutely blown away by the response to this fic, thank you so much!

Until next time, stay safe guys and have a great day xx

Now that I’ve finished Ever After, I’m focussing most of my time and energy on my next big WIP - Domino Theory, the (chronologically) final instalment in the Love and Wine series, a murder-mystery story that will hopefully tie together all the plot threads and loose ends I’ve been weaving through the series so far. 

It’s going to be a big undertaking, and I’m determined to have as much written as possible before I start posting it (I don’t think my usual slap-dash, chaotic write-and-post-as-I-go technique is going to fly with this level of plot), so it will likely be a few months at least before I can start to share it - so in the meantime, here’s a snippet in which I’ve started to explore some of the backstory I am building for the Brossard family…

He lifts his head from his pillow as soon as he hears the door open. “Mama?”

“What are you doing still awake, hm?” comes the hushed reply.

“You promised to kiss me goodnight.”

“I did,” she agrees. “And here I am, just as I said.”

He wriggles over to make room for her on his bed. She’s all dressed up for the big party they’re having downstairs; he can hear the rustling of her silk gown, and he can just make out the glitter of gold and jewels at her ears and throat. 

“Can I have a story, too?”

“A story? Didn’t Becca tell you a story?”

“She did,” he concedes. “But her stories aren’t as good as your stories, Mama.”

She laughs. “How could I ever refuse you anything, my darling boy?” She climbs into the bed beside him and pulls him close, pressing a kiss into his curls. “What story shall I tell tonight?”

“Our story,” he says immediately.

“Again?” She shakes her head. “Very well…

“Once upon a time, there was a girl born to a noble house, one of th’ highest in the land. Her mother loved her dearly and kept her close, wishing to shield her from all the world. She was always grateful for her mother’s care and tenderness, but oh - it could be lonely sometimes. She spent her days reading and dreaming, of fairy-stories and bards tales, of the wonderful world that lay outside her family’s lands; wondering if someday a handsome prince might sweep her off her feet and carry her away to a life of romance and adventure that she had never known. It seemed like years and years she waited, hoping and longing, until the day finally came when she was to be presented to th’ king and his court. She was as terrified as she was excited, so nervous she could hardly sleep for weeks beforehand. What would they think of her? Would they be kind, would she find herself among friends? Or might she find herself shunned as an outcast? And would she perhaps finally meet the noble adventurer of her dreams?

Th’ day came, and she thought she might faint from fright - so many people, all staring and whispering! She began to wish she’d never come, that she had stayed at home with her books and her dreams. But then she saw a face in the crowd, someone who caught her eye with his beautiful smile, and suddenly she felt less alone, as though she had a friend in the midst of all these strangers. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He looked just like she’d imagined a noble knight from a ballad would, with eyes so kind she thought she might melt -“

“That was Papa, wasn’t it?” he interjects. He already knows the answer; he has long learnt every word of this story by heart.

“Yes, it was.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “How happy I was when he asked me to dance at my very first ball! I thought I might die of happiness. He told me so many wonderful tales of the places he’d been - Vizima, Oxenfurt, Novigrad -”

“I wish I could go to Novigrad,” he grumbles. “I never get to go anywhere.”

“One day, my darling boy, I promise you shall see Novigrad. But are you in such a hurry to grow up and leave home, and break your poor mama’s heart?”

“No!”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Now, are you too tired for the rest of the story?”

“I’m not too tired,” he says indignantly, though his eyelids are growing very heavy.

“Alright, then. Your father and I -”

“Tell it like it’s not you,” he commands sleepily. “It’s better.”

“Very well, my little prince. Where was I? Oh, yes. Th’ girl was delighted every time he sought her out for walks in the gardens, for a dance at the ball, to bestow her favour on him before a joust. And the day he asked her if she would be his wife, she thought she’d never been so happy in her entire life.

But their happiness was short-lived, for their families were opposed to the match. There were tears and arguments, threats of banishment and imprisonment, but th’ young lovers refused to give each other up. Her mother told her to be patient as she cried into her pillow night after night, that all would be well in the end - but she felt as though her heart was breaking; she did not know how she could live without him.

The girl and her love were forbidden to see one another, not allowed even to send each other letters or notes - but still her beloved found his way to her, promised her that they would find a way to be together. And when she told him there was a baby on the way, he promised they would be married as soon as possible, if it was the last thing he did.”

“That’s me!” he cries, delighted.

“It was.” She cuddles him closer. “Even before you were born, your parents loved you so very much. Your father convinced me to run away with him - I was terrified we’d be caught, but I loved him so much I knew it was th’ only way. And he was true to his word - he got us away safely and we were finally married th’ very next day…”

She pauses, and he knows she’s waiting to see if he’s asleep yet. He yawns. “And then?”

“And then we came home…eventually. It wasn’t easy, exactly, but in time, we were forgiven - and then my beautiful son was born and that was th’ happiest day of my life.”

He sighs contentedly. He hardly notices when she kisses his forehead one more time, then silently slips away to leave.

“Sweet dreams, Gascon,” she whispers. 

But he is already asleep. 

A short prequel to Blood is Thicker Than Wine, taking place a few weeks before the story begins: Meve and Reynard’s notorious argument…

—

“Will you stay?” she murmured sleepily to the man wrapped tightly in her arms.

He shook his head. “No, Meve. I can’t, not tonight, not with th’ guests from Skellige staying in th’ castle…I’d rather not have to creep all th’ way back to my rooms before dawn.”

She yawned, trying to hide her disappointment. It had been weeks since he’d last shared her bed. “You wouldn’t have to, if you’d just move into rooms closer to mine – as I keep saying. Then you wouldn’t have nearly so far to sneak back…though why you insist on slinking out of here like a child who’s been stealing sweets from th’ larder, I don’t know.” 

“You know I can’t. People –”

“– will talk, yes, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Gods forbid, that anyone should ever talk about us.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Marry me, then.”

A deafening silence followed. Eventually, he choked out: “What?”

“Marry me. Then you can take th’ rooms next to mine, and there’ll be no need for sneaking around at all.”

He sat up and stared at her. “Meve. You know I can’t – th’ very idea –”

She folded her arms. “I don’t see why not. You don’t want people to gossip, well – let me make an honest man out of you, and then they’ll have no cause.”

“We’ve spoken about this before,” he began evenly, in that oh-so-very-patient tone that immediately made her scowl. “We agreed –”

“That was six years ago! And every time I’ve tried to raise th’ topic since, you’ve changed th’ subject.”

“Because there’s no point in discussing it further,” he retorted, an edge creeping into his voice. “Meve, what we share is undoubtedly the very best thing in my life, but we can’t let it make us foolish –”

“Foolish? Marrying me would be foolish, would it?”

“Don’t twist my words. You know very well what I mean – th’ difference in our status, for one –”

“I could grant you a new title any time I please; I wanted to, after th’ last war, but you would have none of it.”

“Because I don’t want one! I’m content as I am, I’ve no wish to beg favours from you, I don’t need –”

“You never ask anything of me. You’re too damn proud, Reynard Odo – proud to a fault, you won’t even accept that which you’ve earned half a dozen times over. Most times I admire you for it, but other times it’s absolutely infuriating.”

“Meve,” he sighed. “You know how much I love you. I would lay down my life for you in a heartbeat. But I simply cannot do this. I have thought about it, time and time again, and come to th’ conclusion –”

She pulled away from him. “You think too much. And you care too much what other people think.”

“Better to think too much than too little,” he retorted. “This is not something we can jump into headfirst, without a care for th’ consequences –”

“When have I ever recklessly thrown myself into anything?” she demanded. “Don’t answer that!” she snapped, when he opened his mouth to reply.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she said, getting up and beginning to pace the room. “All these years of sneaking around, hardly daring to look at each other in public; trying to snatch moments together here and there, always listening for th’ knock on th’ door, th’ footsteps in th’ hall? That whenever we are invited to feasts and banquets, you get sat half a dozen places away from me? That we can sleep in the same bed perhaps once a month, if we’re lucky? Aren’t you tired of it, Reynard? Gods know I am.”

He stood and joined her, taking her hands. “I know it’s not easy, Meve. But it’s what we must do. We can’t give into…imprudent impulses…”

“No, I don’t see that we must do anything of th’ sort. Fine, don’t marry me, I’d be very happy not to go through that whole bloody rigmarole again. But for gods’ sakes, let’s be done with th’ pretence! I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about it, Reynard – I’d be happy for th’ whole world to know what you are to me, and hang th’ consequences! How much time have we wasted denying ourselves the simple happiness of truly being together, whenever we like, as much as we like?”

“You might not care,” he said quietly, “but I do. You know it would cause a scandal, and even if it wouldn’t bother you at all, I cannot say th’ same –”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“It’s not a question of want –”

“Do you?” she demanded.

He exhaled. “If things were different…if circumstances were such, that –”

“It’s a simple question!”

“Yes! Of course I would want to marry you, if I could, but –”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Then just marry me, damn it! You think they don’t gossip about us anyway? D’you really think we’ve managed to keep this affair so secret that there’s a single bloody person in this castle that doesn’t know about it already?”

“No,” he snapped. “I will not. It would be a wasted opportunity, Meve –” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth, furious “– it’s plain to see that th’ negotiations between Villem and Cerys are going nowhere fast; we won’t be securing our alliance with Skellige with a wedding anytime soon. We might be at peace now, but our allies are more important than ever – if you were to wed, it ought to be for political advantage –”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. “What? I’m not – I’m not going to marry anyone else, not for any alliance, not even if Emhyr var fucking Emreis himself proposed to make me Empress of Nilfgaard! I’m marrying you or not at all.”

“Then I suppose you won’t be marrying anyone,” he replied, clenching his jaw. “Because you won’t be marrying me.”

“I could command it of you!” she spat out, and instantly regretted it. “Not that I ever would, but –”

“You promised.” Reynard’s voice was beginning to rise. “You promised that you would never command me in this. But as soon as you cannot get your way, you hold your crown over my head and threaten me with an order! When have I ever denied you anything? When have I ever refused to obey you? You have no more loyal subject than I, Meve, but this is too far!”

“Oh, first you claim that you don’t wish me to elevate you or grant you a new title, and now you complain that I hold too much power over you!”

“That is not th’ point and you know it!”

“It is exactly th’ point! I warned you of this from th’ start, and you said that you didn’t care that I outranked you, that loved me as your queen as well as a woman –”

“And I do, but gods, Meve – you make it difficult, sometimes.”

“Imagine how difficult it is for me!” she yelled. “A bloody thankless burden, this crown is, but I bear it, day in, day out – everyone always wanting something of me, a never-ending series of demands and negotiations and prices to pay, and th’ one thing I want for myself –”

“Lower your voice!” he hissed. “Someone will hear –”

She clenched her fists, resisting the temptation to seize something and throw it. “Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet! I am sick to death of this! I can’t do this anymore, Reynard. I can’t.”

He looked at her a long moment. “All right,” he said stiffly. “I can see we are at an impasse. I understand that maintaining our relationship under th’ present terms is no longer acceptable to you. If that’s th’ case, I will burden you with my company no longer.”

She stared at him. “What?”

He picked up his clothes and began to get dressed.

“Reynard, what th’ hell does that mean?”

“If we cannot agree to terms, there is no point continuing this discussion.”

“What th’ devils do you mean? We can’t just leave it there –”

“Good night, Your Grace.” He bowed and turned to the door.

She stood frozen in place for a long moment, before realising he was actually walking out on her. She grabbed her robe and yanked it on, hurrying after him. “You can’t just leave like that!” She followed him out into the passageway, past her startled guards, who looked as though they would rather be anywhere else in the world at that particular moment. “Reynard! Reynard Odo! Come back here at once!”

But he did not turn back.