THIRTEEN | RECOVERY

Geralt was kind enough to bring Caira back to his inn that same night. He placed her in the untouched bed and covered her with the thick comforter. She remained completely still, staring off into the distance, unblinking. He made sure she was warm and completely covered, never daring to take a look at any inch of revealed skin.

He turned to leave her be, but she quickly grabbed his wrist. Her hand shot out like a flash of light and gripped him pleadingly. Her eyes were wide and frightful. She shook her head, begging him to stay with her. To not abandon her. To keep her safe. He understood. She needed to feel protected in this vulnerable state she was in. Though she was a strong woman, she had just been stripped and violated in indescribable ways. She had nearly been raped, it was only right she felt weak for once. He nodded at her, with sympathizing eyes, and sat at the edge of the bed beside her. She shifted her position on the bed and pulled his hand up to her cheek, then finally closed her eyes. She felt every crevice of his calloused skin brush against her face as she tried to sleep. Geralt rubbed his rough thumb against her cheekbone, taking in the softness of her skin.

He waited for hours until he noticed her restlessness had died, and she finally fell asleep. During these hours, he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill the remaining monsters that had done this to her. How he was going to track them down. And whether he was going to display their heads on pikes or not. Ultimately, he decided to kill them quietly, without much of a display for Caira's sake.

Once she finally did sleep, he carefully peeled his hand away from her face and hurried off to the pub where she contracted the work from. Luckily for him, it was the exact spot where the three idiots were. They were drinking, planing to go until daybreak, to their lost friend and to calm their nerves after encountering the Witcher. Their mistake. Geralt made it obvious he was present at the pub and clenched his jaw at the sight of the three whom were disgusting enough to try and rape the raven haired princess. His hand gripped the handle of his blade as he came closer to the intoxicated fools.

They spun their heads around and instantly took notice of the large figure standing before them. They nearly shit their pants at the sight of the man who had just tracked them down to finished what he had started. Without much hesitation, Geralt swung his sword and penetrated the chest of one lad, while the other two bolted once again. The fellow Geralt impaled, collapsed to the ground, feeling his lungs fill with blood. Geralt decided he was bound to die without medical attention soon, and it would've been a painful enough way to die for his crimes. He moved on to the next two, knowing he needed to kill them before they got away.

One of the two that fled was stupid enough to come running back at Geralt with his own meek blade in hand. His intoxicated state made him stumble over his own feet. Using this to his advantage, Geralt grabbed ahold of the imbecile and stuck his blade into his crotch, instantly making him a eunuch. The man reached for his genitals and collapsed to the ground in pain. Geralt scurried after the cowardly third man of the trio. He found him hiding right outside the pub. Another idiot. Geralt thought to himself. Geralt grabbed the man's collar and punched him square in the jaw, hearing some bones crack. He dragged him back inside the pub to take a look at his other two friends. "What? Your own whore wives wouldn't fuck you tonight? That why you picked her to attack? Or is this a game you sick fucks play often?" Geralt spat in his face, still holding him by the collar. The man squirmed under his hold, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for his sudden death.

"Oh, you won't be dying anytime soon." Geralt's lips curled into a devilish smile. The three certainly met the wrath of Geralt that night, as they suffered a torturous and long death.

* * *

By the time Caira awoke Geralt was cleaned up and back by her side. She couldn't even noticed he had left her side all night. Geralt grabbed a bowl of hot soup from the end table and held it out for Caira to take. She was still in a paralytic state from what happened to her. Her brain was refusing to process everything that happened and the event kept replaying in her mind over and over again. "Eat." Geralt order. She turned her eyes away from him, burying her head deeper into the pillows.

For days, she did this. She didn't eat, drink nor speak at all. Geralt, day after day, relentlessly tried to get her to eat or drink something. But she would not budge. "Please, eat." He'd hold out a steaming bowl of soup for her to take, but she'd let it go to waste.

Sometimes, he'd even just leave the food by her bedside in case she'd eat it while he wasn't present in the room. But, again, she refused to eat it. "You must eat something, Princess." He told her on the fourth day of her unmoving from her position in the bed.

Finally, she seemed to react to his words. She sat up and looked him deep in his gazing yellow eyes. Her bottom lip poured out and began to quiver. "I would've been ruined." Was all she said, silent tears rolling down her face as she refrained from sobbing.

He sighed, looking down at the piping bowl of soup he retrieved for her. Geralt held out the bowl of soup once more, on the brink of giving up. "Eat." And she finally obliged, taking the warm bowl into her hands and shakily spooning the liquid into her mouth.