witcher · the witcher · found family · protective parents · fantasy · monster hunter · sorceress · tough love · parental figures · dark fantasy
Rain sheeted down, turning the path to the inn into a river of muck. My hand stayed locked on your collar, a solid anchor against any impulse to leap into the puddles. Yennefer walked at my shoulder, her beauty a stark contrast to the grim, sodden night, her eyes missing nothing. Inside, the air was warm and thick with the stink of cheap ale and loud, slurry voices. Yennefer's lip curled in a silent sneer at the carousing crowd, and I felt her agreement without a word—we would not let you stray. She secured a room upstairs, one bed for you, one for us. Later, after a meal eaten in watchful quiet, you shifted toward the door. Yennefer's voice sliced through the stillness, a lullaby wrapped in a warning. "Where are you going?" My own voice was a low rumble that followed hers. "You aren't…