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She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

An hour passes. Then two. Then three. The sorceress working tirelessly to stem bleeding and tend to the wounds of the dozen in the inn. By the time the fourth hour arrives, six have died from their wounds, Rhaena’s spells and skilled hands unable to save them. But she cannot lose focus, cannot give up on the remaining survivors.

Five hours go by and the sun is beginning to rise by the time she finally slumps down in a seat near the makeshift beds she had set up. The remaining 6 all patched up as best she can and calmed with spells enough that they fall to sleep. She’d had the idea to drive her dagger into the heads of each of the deceased in case they rose from the dead…Eskel had not told her much of the vendigo’s curse, but it was far better to be safe than it was to be sorry.

As she sits, her thoughts finally turn to Eskel. He had not told her how long he would likely be, but her concern was becoming unbearable. Everything in her longs to go out and track him down, but she knew necrophages would likely swarm the place soon enough and take the lives of those remaining if she left.

She hears footsteps approaching then through the snow, a gait she was not quite familiar with. Rising to her feet and drawing her sword, she awaits the person…or thing…to enter the building.

“Eskel…” she gasps as the door swings open, immediately rushing to him but then jumping back when she sees the monster’s head in his hand…and the blood.

For a moment, she wonders if the blood is simply that of the monster, but the look upon his features and the way he moved as though in pain, hence the unrecognised gait, tells her otherwise.

Without a thought, she snatches the monster head from him and places it atop the bar whilst the urges Eskel to lie back atop one of the tables, her hands frantically trying to unfasten his armour to get a better look at his wounds.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She takes the vial and mirrors his action, beginning to rub the substance into her blade, dark eyes looking up at him every now and against as he speaks. Silent hoping he does not see the fear in them.

“Let us go, then…” she mutters once they were both ready.

She follows him out into the darkness and snow, keeping herself pressed close behind him. One hand clutching the hilt of her sword whilst the other looped through his belt at his back, keeping her head down as he instructed and allowing him to guide her through the village.

She can hear the screams getting louder and before too long, they arrive at the inn. She allows herself to look up then, seeing the gaping hole in the wall that had been made by the creature. As they step inside and her eyes fall upon the sheer number of injured villagers, she pulls away from Eskel and rushes to them, beginning to check them over.

It is in that moment that she realises she will likely be of more use here with them…knowing a lot of them would likely die without her intervention and that Eskel was more than adept at handling himself.

She briefly returns to him, hands grasping his as she glances back over her shoulder at the dozens of wounded.

“I can’t leave them, Eskel…they’ll die without proper treatment…”

There is a temptation to press a kiss to his cheek in farewell, but she knows such public displays are not something he enjoys. So instead, she squeezes his hand, trying to convey in her gaze everything he already knew of her care for him.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

His words and the overall sense of urgency about him do little to calm her fears, his current demeanour being something she had never seen in him before.

Shaking her head, she rises from the bed and begins scrabbling to find her own clothing, though finding dressing to take a bit longer than it ordinarily might given the trembling in her hands.

“I’m coming with you,” she says after putting on her boots and seeking out her own armoured jacket and sword. She had helped him on a few smaller contracts now and found she was getting rather adept with bringing down drowners and nekkers with her blade. And something about his description of this particular creature told her that perhaps her spells would be beneficial.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She nuzzles closer to him in sleep, subconsciously seeking out his warmth as the fire in the hearth slowly died down to embers.

They’d been in the small village close to Cairngorn for near a week now, and on the Path for three moons. She had thought she would be used to the cooler climate by now but when it truly came down to it, Rhaena had been born in the heat and it seemed her body was loathe to adapt. She was grateful she had Eskel at her side most nights, the Witcher’s body like a furnace. But the nights she spent alone in the cabins they rented in each village he took contracts in felt like she was frozen.

She stirs as she feels movement beside her in the bed and opens her eyes to find Eskel already awake and sitting on the edge of the bed as he throws his clothing back on. Sitting up, she clutches the furs to her bare breasts, sleep-filled gaze trying to focus on him through the darkness.

“What are you-“

It is then that an almighty crash and roar seem to shake the entire cabin and her dark eyes widen in fear.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She does not look at him as he speaks, even as she feels his gentle caresses to her back. Feeling her heart ache in her chest as he decline his request.

She had known he would say no the moment the words had passed her lips, knowing Eskel as well as she did. He was not one to abuse the powers he had been granted and always preferred the pragmatic route rather than acting without thinking. She too had been more rational but since watching her father die beneath one of her spells, that rationality had left her and was replaced with sheer desperation.

“Okay…” she says eventually, admitting defeat and returning to lie beside him. “All I ask is…that you do not allow me from your sight. If learning to carry what I have done is the only way, then I must learn it and I am…”

She squeezes her eyes shut but it is too late to stop the tears.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

By the time he returns to the bed, she has drifted off to sleep, having tired herself out with her tears. She would have enjoyed his comfort and yet at the same time, she is grateful he gave her space, something which had been so rarely granted in her life back in Myr. She had always disliked putting her burdens onto another, especially someone she cared about. And she enjoyed it even less when it was someone she loved.

Sleep does not hold her for long and she wakes a few hours later, turning to Eskel’s side of the bed and finding him quite awake beside her, viper eyes glowing in the darkness. Slowly, she shifts closer to him, cuddling up to his chest and draping an arm over his middle. Choosing to remain silent in that moment, simply longing to be held by him.

That silence soon becomes near an hour long, the sorceress replaying the past few days over and over in her mind, trying to organise her feelings the way she had done so as a girl whenever things troubled her. And yet she is not so successful when it comes to the pain she feels now. It is then that an idea comes to her, one which she doubted Eskel would be open to helping her with. But she would ask nonetheless, and seek out one of her sorceress friends to carry out her request if he declined.

“Eskel…” she says eventually, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Pausing for several long moments to gather her words. “I…I know you can manipulate memories. Change them. I would…I would like you to change mine.”

She chews her lip a moment, eyes closing now as she speaks.

“I want to believe my son passed when he came into the world,” she murmurs. “And that my father met a natural end. I…”

She shakes her head, before sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

His mention of being unable to sire offspring sends a sharp jolt of pain through her stomach. Not because she wanted his children, but because she knows she is unable to birth a child now that she had underwent her magical transformation. She had been given the choice to maintain functionality, but had declined it, the notion of no longer having to suffer each month driving her decision more than anything, but also the notion that she would be reunited with her son.

A reunion that now would never happen, and she would never feel that motherly love again.

When Eskel finishes speaking, she slowly pulls away from him, wrapping her arms about herself.

“I’m going to bed…” she mutters, not meeting his gaze for fear she might begin to cry once more. Then, swiftly, she turns and moves back into the bedchamber, shedding her robe and clambering back beneath the furs.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

The sensation of his seed filling her, combined with his groans of pleasure into her mouth only serve to drive her into another powerful pleasure. Her own sounds of pleasure joining his, muffled by the heated kiss they share.

After several long moments, her hips slow to a stop before she eventually rolls off him onto her back beside him, dark eyes fixed upon the high ceiling of their tower room. Panting with the exertion of her fucking mere moments ago.

Eventually, once she has regained enough of herself, she props herself up slightly, running a hand through her dark hair and smirking over at him.

“I feared I would grow bored of this, you know?” She murmurs. “But I know for certain now that I never shall…”

She leans over to press a kiss to his cheek before rising from the bed, throwing a robe about her bare frame before moving over to pour herself a goblet of wine. However, now that their intimacy has paused for the moment, the darkness of her thoughts begins to creep back in and suddenly, the tower room feels entirely stifling.

"Quite the view, huh? I've been around this valley for a century, and it never loses its beauty, even being the only Witcher left here to appreciate it. Doesn't matter where I travel or for how long, returning here never loses its luster. You fit in well here... just make it all the more impressive."

As she stands alone on the balcony, her thoughts immediately turn to the events back in Myr. The scene she had witnessed in her father’s memories, the sight of her sweet boy falling to the ocean below. The pain her father had felt at the action, the pain knowing he had lost his only grandchild. And likely, he had assumed in that moment that he had lost his only daughter too.

And Rhaena had ended his life for it, on impulse. The ferocity of maternal love for a boy she had scarcely birthed before she had abandoned him. And now that she had been through her magical transformation, she would never be able to bear a child again, though she did not deserve to.

She’d been so deep in thought that she did not notice he had joined her until she felt his fingers lace through hers, the sensation causing her to jump in fright.

"Every city I've ever gone to has been a source of trouble far more than a beautiful sight or anything else. Especially during my earliest years on the Path. Convinced me to mostly stick to towns and small villages for my work. It's a strange thing, to be trained and destined for a particular world... for a Witcher's life to seem so normal to me... only to become so very alien in another world close by like a city. Born outsider and outcast from societies and crowds, I reckon... or made... makes little difference. Should have seen the first city I ever went to, Ard Carraigh, the capital of Kaedwen. Was around seventeen or eighteen. First time everyone was staring at me. Hundreds... thousands in a crowd gawking at me on every street. Whispering. Not many of them especially kindly. Learned a fair few valuable life lessons that day."

She leans into his touch when he wipes away her tears and allows herself to be drawn into his embrace, arms slowly sliding about his bare middle and clinging to him as though he would run if she let go.

As the hours went on, she was settling more and more into the understanding that Eskel did genuinely care for her, seemingly doing all he could to keep her there with him. Not out of possessiveness, but out of genuine affection. She had been around enough men to be able to spot false compassion in an instant.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

The sensation of his seed filling her, combined with his groans of pleasure into her mouth only serve to drive her into another powerful pleasure. Her own sounds of pleasure joining his, muffled by the heated kiss they share.

After several long moments, her hips slow to a stop before she eventually rolls off him onto her back beside him, dark eyes fixed upon the high ceiling of their tower room. Panting with the exertion of her fucking mere moments ago.

Eventually, once she has regained enough of herself, she props herself up slightly, running a hand through her dark hair and smirking over at him.

“I feared I would grow bored of this, you know?” She murmurs. “But I know for certain now that I never shall…”

She leans over to press a kiss to his cheek before rising from the bed, throwing a robe about her bare frame before moving over to pour herself a goblet of wine. However, now that their intimacy has paused for the moment, the darkness of her thoughts begins to creep back in and suddenly, the tower room feels entirely stifling.

"Quite the view, huh? I've been around this valley for a century, and it never loses its beauty, even being the only Witcher left here to appreciate it. Doesn't matter where I travel or for how long, returning here never loses its luster. You fit in well here... just make it all the more impressive."

As she stands alone on the balcony, her thoughts immediately turn to the events back in Myr. The scene she had witnessed in her father’s memories, the sight of her sweet boy falling to the ocean below. The pain her father had felt at the action, the pain knowing he had lost his only grandchild. And likely, he had assumed in that moment that he had lost his only daughter too.

And Rhaena had ended his life for it, on impulse. The ferocity of maternal love for a boy she had scarcely birthed before she had abandoned him. And now that she had been through her magical transformation, she would never be able to bear a child again, though she did not deserve to.

She’d been so deep in thought that she did not notice he had joined her until she felt his fingers lace through hers, the sensation causing her to jump in fright.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

The sensation of his seed filling her, combined with his groans of pleasure into her mouth only serve to drive her into another powerful pleasure. Her own sounds of pleasure joining his, muffled by the heated kiss they share.

After several long moments, her hips slow to a stop before she eventually rolls off him onto her back beside him, dark eyes fixed upon the high ceiling of their tower room. Panting with the exertion of her fucking mere moments ago.

Eventually, once she has regained enough of herself, she props herself up slightly, running a hand through her dark hair and smirking over at him.

“I feared I would grow bored of this, you know?” She murmurs. “But I know for certain now that I never shall…”

She leans over to press a kiss to his cheek before rising from the bed, throwing a robe about her bare frame before moving over to pour herself a goblet of wine. However, now that their intimacy has paused for the moment, the darkness of her thoughts begins to creep back in and suddenly, the tower room feels entirely stifling.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She keeps her movements slow yet passionate, making love to him right there in the heated water. The pleasure of his magical aura as strong as ever, continuing to send her into climaxes every few minutes. She recalled when first they had fucked after her transformation, she had feared the effects would wear off, that she would grow accustomed to the powerful vibrations. And yet now, she knew she never would, each intimacy only seeming to surprise her with the intensity of climax he would bring her too.

And right now, she needed the distraction more than ever.

Breaking their kiss to gaze into his eyes, she finds his hand with hers and slowly guides it down between her parted legs, pressing his fingers to her clit. Cursing in Myrish at the powerful sensation that immediately increased her pleasure tenfold.

Before long she is bouncing fiercely stop him, the water from the tub splashing upon the stone floor with the force of her movements. Finding herself now in that place she could only get to with him, enjoying one seemingly endless climax.

She digs her nails into his shoulders and chest as she rides him, crying out in heated pleasure so loudly she fears it is likely the trolls in the mountains Eskel had told her of would startle.

“Fuck…”

Soon enough, however, her position in her knees begins to bring her some discomfort, the hard metal of the tub far from the most comfortable surface. And, far from wanting to separate them, she merely draws a portal about them which deposits them immediately atop the bed near the tub.

The force of her hips only grows as his thrusts up into her intensify, climax after climax raging through her. Her arousal beginning to coat his hips as she straddles him.

As he draws her down to kiss him, she moans loudly into his mouth, though takes the opportunity to grasp both of his wrists, pinning them forcefully above his head. Taking full possession of him in that moment. Mouth remaining close to his, alternating between kissing him feverishly and biting at his lip.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She keeps her movements slow yet passionate, making love to him right there in the heated water. The pleasure of his magical aura as strong as ever, continuing to send her into climaxes every few minutes. She recalled when first they had fucked after her transformation, she had feared the effects would wear off, that she would grow accustomed to the powerful vibrations. And yet now, she knew she never would, each intimacy only seeming to surprise her with the intensity of climax he would bring her too.

And right now, she needed the distraction more than ever.

Breaking their kiss to gaze into his eyes, she finds his hand with hers and slowly guides it down between her parted legs, pressing his fingers to her clit. Cursing in Myrish at the powerful sensation that immediately increased her pleasure tenfold.

Before long she is bouncing fiercely stop him, the water from the tub splashing upon the stone floor with the force of her movements. Finding herself now in that place she could only get to with him, enjoying one seemingly endless climax.

She digs her nails into his shoulders and chest as she rides him, crying out in heated pleasure so loudly she fears it is likely the trolls in the mountains Eskel had told her of would startle.

“Fuck…”

Soon enough, however, her position in her knees begins to bring her some discomfort, the hard metal of the tub far from the most comfortable surface. And, far from wanting to separate them, she merely draws a portal about them which deposits them immediately atop the bed near the tub.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She keeps her movements slow yet passionate, making love to him right there in the heated water. The pleasure of his magical aura as strong as ever, continuing to send her into climaxes every few minutes. She recalled when first they had fucked after her transformation, she had feared the effects would wear off, that she would grow accustomed to the powerful vibrations. And yet now, she knew she never would, each intimacy only seeming to surprise her with the intensity of climax he would bring her too.

And right now, she needed the distraction more than ever.

Breaking their kiss to gaze into his eyes, she finds his hand with hers and slowly guides it down between her parted legs, pressing his fingers to her clit. Cursing in Myrish at the powerful sensation that immediately increased her pleasure tenfold.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

Though it was less than a second before he responded to her tentative kiss, it felt like a lifetime. Everything in her telling her he was going to push her away. Yet he does the opposite, instead drawing her closer with those rough hands upon her rear and she moans softly at the sensation of his hard cock against her, taking several long moments to grind herself against him. Allowing the strong magical vibrations to pleasure her enough that she grew wetter for him.

After a while, she breaks their kiss, lifting her hips enough and grasping his manhood before guiding him inside her with a heated gasp.

“Fuck…” she moans, dark eyes closing as she feels the vibrations course through her. Bringing her to immediate pleasure within seconds.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

Dark eyes close at the comforting sensation his arms and lips bring her. A part of her mind tells her to run, that she does not deserve such comfort after what she has done. Especially comfort from someone she has hurt in the process. But Eskel’s constant reassurances keep her where she is and she finds herself relaxing in his arms even further.

“When you first came back to me after I completed my training, I vowed to you that I would not become like others you have known,” she says quietly after a short silence. “And that is a vow I will never break…”

She repositions herself then to face him, straddling his hips so she could look into his eyes, a hand coming to rest upon his scarred cheek. Thumb soothingly tracing over the marks upon his skin.

“I did not use the power from the magic barriers for ill gains…I used it as I was blinded by desperation to know the fate of my son. My actions are something I will deeply regret for the remainder of my days, knowing they hurt you and knowing the consequences they led to. But…I am grateful that you acknowledge that hurting you was not my intention.”

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She scowls at him as he picks up the goat.

“The fact you have not admonished her for trying to harm me is rather telling, Witcher,” she huffs, murmuring to dispel the enchantment as she rises. “Were she my goat, she would be diced up in a pot by now if she were treating my guests so poorly.”

Still, she moves over to him, bringing a hand to scratch the creature between the horns, smirking as the goat studied her curiously.

“Just wait until Eskel leaves the two of us alone…” she smirks at the goat. “He’ll return to a lovely goat stew, I bet…”

She’s teasing, of course. She would never harm the creature, especially given how fond Eskel seemed to be of it.

“Perhaps you ought to put her in the courtyard again,” she says to him. “Then join me upstairs…I feel a bath may help ease some of my tension…”

Eskel's low, amused voice returned to her with a chuckle under his breath at her words, pleased she was at least in a slightly better mood... or at least it didn't seem to be false. She was trying to affect some of her old manner, despite the shock and trauma she had been through... she didn't have to pretend for his sake, and hopefully she knew that. The dark haired Sorceress moved to scratch the goat between the horns, not receiving any more hostility from the animal in response, but simple curiosity. As Rhaena teased the goat further his own smirk deepened to match hers, a hand rising to rub along 'Lil Bleater's fur coat gradually. When she spoke up again, offering a welcome suggestion for how to spend the evening ahead, how to start it at least, he nodded, speaking up to her again, viper eyes looking between her and the friendly goat.

"Probably best if I put her away in the stables, in that case. Much as she'd almost certainly like to join us, you might turn up the heat with magic, turn that bath into a stewing pot the moment she stepped in. I'll be right up pretty lady, in that case."

The Witcher smiled fondly when she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, and he watched her depart for the stairwell up to their room in the tower, before turning and making his way for the main doors of the great hall, carrying the goat back outside into the fresh Winter air, breathing it in as the flakes descended upon them. He carried the goat down to the lower courtyard stables, where Scorpion was set up and looking comfortable. Though after setting down the goat, he made sure to top up the hay, oats and melt the ice that had formed on his water with a light Igni Sign. He took the time to pat the war horse and goat alike, and once assured they were settled in, he made his way back up to the keep and up the tower's stairs, joining her in the quarters again, closing the door behind him. He began to remove his clothing at once as he looked over to the beauty awaiting him in the bath already, the alluring view beckoning to him. Once he was stripped down to only his medallion, he went to the sizable, heated pool and climbed into it with her, uttering a low, contented breath of relief as the water rose up over him... his deep voice murmuring to her again as he opened his eyes to look back across at her perfect visage.

"Ahh... much better. I might be better with the cold of winters than most, used to it, but I ain't immune to the lure of a hot bath. Especially not with the right company."

She watches on with a hint of a smile as he undresses and settles into the water opposite her. Then, she grab a nearby washcloth and a chunk of soap she had magically summoned, beginning to cleanse herself with it. Gradually feeling some of the tension melting away.

“When we’re on the path together, I can have this waiting for you each and every night you return to me,” she murmurs fondly. “Though perhaps I won’t join you in the water as often…I’d rather not be soaking in blood and monster guts. I’d prefer to simply admire the view.”

After a time, she sets the cloth and soap down before repositioning to settle herself between his legs, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh. She remains silent for a long while, simply enjoying the pleasant magical vibrations he was sending through her. Then, eventually, she speaks.

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

She scowls at him as he picks up the goat.

“The fact you have not admonished her for trying to harm me is rather telling, Witcher,” she huffs, murmuring to dispel the enchantment as she rises. “Were she my goat, she would be diced up in a pot by now if she were treating my guests so poorly.”

Still, she moves over to him, bringing a hand to scratch the creature between the horns, smirking as the goat studied her curiously.

“Just wait until Eskel leaves the two of us alone…” she smirks at the goat. “He’ll return to a lovely goat stew, I bet…”

She’s teasing, of course. She would never harm the creature, especially given how fond Eskel seemed to be of it.

“Perhaps you ought to put her in the courtyard again,” she says to him. “Then join me upstairs…I feel a bath may help ease some of my tension…”