Payment - Emiel Regis (Witcher)
AN/// this man is my baby boy
Look, when I read the raid on Stygga, I shed a tear or two. Watching the first season with Vilgefortz has been a challenge.
Slow burn and spoilers to Baptism of Fire and DLC of Blood and Wine – Though there is canon divergence
I wanna write more for my boy, so please feel free to request!
After the Duchess had received word that the beast was defeated, her sister put to trial and Geralt had been paid, life became simple. There had been a reunion at the vineyard, and lost connections had been rebuilt. Everything had gone back to the way it was. Regis had been staying busy with helping his Witcher friend with anything he needed, but it seemed to him that Geralt only called upon him these days with trivial tasks. ‘Come to the lab and help with this new mutation’, or ‘an influx of new vines had sprouted, and there is work in tasting for the new batch’. While he wasn’t upset with his new peace, he was restless.
Regis wasn’t new to relaxing and waiting for the next adventure to sweep him away. However, something hung in the air. His feathered contacts seemed at ease and there was a decline in monster activity, but the man couldn’t shake it. The Witcher took notice, and had frequently brought it up, but Regis would just brush it off. Though, his slight change in behavior did enlighten him to Geralt’s shift in character.
They had been sitting in the green house, Regis trying ot help move small buds into the new beds. He helped manufacture new strains of plants, and the shift from their pots was a delicate task.
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think something was wrong.” The tone held its usual gruff, but it came out gentle. Geralt had sat back on his haunches, small shovel in hand as he stared at his friend. Regis tossed a small smile his way, shaking his head, barely giving him a glance. His hands dove into the soft dirt, creating a new hole.
“I’m aware, but I must disappoint in saying I’m fine. Truly, Geralt.” The grunt he received as a response was one of disbelief. After a moment of no movement from the Witcher, Regis gave him his full attention before needed to focus on moving the new sprout. He could see guilt in the amber eyes that shined at him. He sat back on his feet; hands folded in his lap as he waited for Geralt to sort his thoughts.
“Are you at peace?” The question had shocked, and confusion settled.
“With what are you referring to? It’s a nice day out, so I’d say so-.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Regis looked down, pursing his lips.
“I suppose I do.” There was a tense silence that befell the men.
“I meant… Is there anything you need?” The question brought on just as much confusion as the first.
The sun was beating down on the two of them, and had been for hours. It didn’t affect the two as one was a Witcher and the other a Vampire, but they had shed some layers. Both only dawned a shirt and pants, but it seemed as though Regis was sweating. The flowing shirt seemed to constrict under the microscope of his friend’s questioning.
“A reasoning for these questions, perhaps?” Geralt had sheathed the shovel into the earth, and rocked back to fully sit on the ground.
“You’ve… done a lot for me, Regis. Even if I was against it, you were there and willing to help.” The confession placed all these puzzle pieces into place. Regis gave a soft ‘ah’ before a gentle smile found him.
“The mundane tasks.” It was a statement was offered as a mercy to the Witcher. He knew that Geralt had a hard time explaining things of the topic at hand, and Regis wanted to spare him from having to explain what he’s been trying to do for him.
“It’s not just because of repayment.” The vampire nodded.
“I’m aware you value our friendship as much as I do. I wasn’t accusing.” They sat looking at each other, Geralt looking more discontent than before. Geralt was right- Regis had sacrificed a lot for the man, but he never had held life as a checks and balance system. If he had, he would have already considered the debt paid. Dettlaff was fine and well, healing at his new home. Away from society, visiting only Regis and Geralt.
Regis would have laughed at the irony, considering Dettlaff had also been feeling like an inadequate friend. More so being his Blood Brother. The same inquiries had been brought up with him, and Regis couldn’t wrap his head around the shift. Though, Dettlaff seemed more determined after their conversation, which left the man slightly worried at what could unfold from that.
“I am at peace, Geralt. Thank you, but I don’t think I could find something I’d need. I promise to come to you if I do find that I need help, however.” That seemed to let Geralt’s shoulders drop, the thought of him coming to him setting him at ease.
They both had gone back to transferring the sprouts, and ended the conversation. And he had been answering honestly. Regis didn’t have a need that required fulfillment. He was happy with his station at the moment, and would be content for as long as it lasted. Though, it seemed that neither of the men who had asked him had dropped the subject. He had called in a few favors here and there from the Witcher. One day, he had brought Dettlaff to the vineyard for brunch, as odd as it seemed. Geralt wasn’t friends with the vampire, but he was tolerant. Duty had called to Regis on a day he had set aside to visit his brother, so he left Geralt to watch him after their brunch.
When the time came to help Dettlaff back to his residence, it seemed that Geralt had grown a liking to the man. It brought a smile to Regis’ face, but there was still something in the air that was setting him off. Dettlaff would frequently smile to himself on the way back, reminiscing on the conversation he had with Geralt. He wouldn’t let Regis in on his thoughts, but it definitely didn’t help with the stale feeling eating at him. Luckily, he had been open about a few things after the constant pressure.
“I didn’t think you would be apart of a ‘gang’.” The night didn’t hide the shocked expression from Dettlaff.
“Well, it isn’t very different than a pack. And I wasn’t necessarily there all of the time.”
“I would say it was more than that. You stirred trouble on a human level.” Regis hummed at his choice of words, before giving him a raised brow. It should have been obvious to the other that he didn’t confine himself to ‘human’ ‘vampire’ traditions. There was also the question of where this line was going.
“There were lives on the line.” It all confused him more as he had already known of this information. He didn’t know the extent or too many details, but Dettlaff was the one to help him after Stygga.
“I remember. Geralt had been informing me of your old companions.” Ah. So, there it was. Regis knew immediately where their conversation had gone to. Dettlaff had either apologized, leading Geralt and him to the topic of love, or they had been conspiring to help Regis out in some way. Either option led to the same outcome, and he wasn’t prepared for it. Regis would never be prepared for it. And he certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Dettlaff, seeing as he would go to the extremes for love. Regis didn’t blame him for it, as he probably would too, but it didn’t help that he had a history.
“It was quite the bunch.” He had hoped his short tone had given him a clue that Regis didn’t want to talk about things, but he was disappointed.
“He had mentioned someone named Y/n.” He tried to keep his face from tightening, but he knew he failed.
“Yes… she was… important.” Dettlaff nodded as they reached the door of his cottage. He opened the door motioning Regis to enter first, but he shook his head. Regis was going to get out of the subject, and that was that.
“I don’t have any label for it. I don’t even know if she’s alive now, so I refrain from thinking on it.”
“Too painful for a label-less entity? It sounds like more.” Regis hummed again, turning to leave.
“And seemingly unrequited at the time. I shall be back soon.” His legs took him all the way back to the graveyard, even though he could have gotten there quicker by misting. Dettlaff wasn’t powerful enough to do so, but the stroll was shorter from the vineyard.
It was a good way to blow off steam. The feeling in the air revealed itself to have root in the very same subject. It made sense, since it started after the reunion. Y/n was among the old comrades that weren’t resent. The only ones that hadn’t appeared had seemed to be those who had passed, and while Regis hadn’t tried to think of her, her absence was noticed. And this had followed Dettlaff’s run in, and havoc he created after love had bit him in the ass. He knew Dandelion would have looked for her when Regis had suggested the reunion for Geralt.
He moved on as much as he could, coming to terms with what he assumed was reality. He knew that Dettlaff wouldn’t go searching for her, nor was a powerful enough to do so if he wanted to.
The crow that would constantly stay around the vineyard came swooping down, landing on his shoulder. His hands were fully immersed in water. His coat was left at home, the sun shining bright. It was a perfect day to try and find aquatic bacteria for his new concoction. His trousers were rolled to his knees, his boots lying close to the tide. The crow informed him that he was needed urgently. The vials containing the water samples were placed into his bag before quickly grabbing his shoes. He didn’t know how urgent it really was, but he assumed Geralt would have com himself if time wasn’t a variable. He shifted into mist, only reforming minutes later in front of the vineyard. B. Basil had greeted him, offering Geralt’s whereabouts. He hadn’t thought of unrolling his shirt or pants, rushing into the greenhouse.
It took a double take to actually conceive the form in front of him. Though she wasn’t facing him, Regis knew. A loose white shirt covered her, without the usual amor, but her sword was still strapped across her back. He knew the blade well, as it was actually a gift from him before the plan to get Ciri in Stygga. When he said it wasn’t requited, it wasn’t completely true, as there was one night. One fleeting night where Regis and Y/n had been intimate, but that was only a handful of days before the raid of the castle.
Her posture was still confident, her hands placed firmly on her hips. Of course, it was usually just an act, and he could tell by how she toed the dirt tepidly.
The scent was still the same as well. Oranges and chocolate filled his lungs, and he couldn’t get enough. He never could. Regis could drown in it without having enough. Y/n always just naturally smelled of orange, and he always tried to figure out why. How could someone have such a unique and inviting scent that could remind him everywhere he went into town? A smile would always find him upon finding his nose filling with citrus, even if the loss pained him. The chocolate was more practical as she was always snacking on it.
It was a combination of scents that he purposely avoided recreating.
And besides all of these factors, he wasn’t sure it was actually her. Geralt, standing in a way to see him, made eye contact. When it seemed Y/n noticed his shift in attention, she stiffened. Only for a fraction of a second, however. She turned fast, barely needing to see Regis before throwing herself at him. Arms wrapped around his neck, legs dangling as she wasn’t quite tall enough. His nose found the crook of her neck just as fast, inhaling until it hurt his full lungs. He still wasn’t sure it was real. Until-
“Emiel.” The tone was breathy, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. To scream his name or to whisper due to proximity.
Y/n was really the only one to call him by his first name, and it solidified it for him.
His arms slid around her waist, bringing her as close to him as possible- almost as if he was trying to absorb her.
“Y/n. It’s you.” He felt the rumble of her always large laugh against him. She wasn’t always like that, usually only truly laughing around him.
“I hope so. I wouldn’t wanna be anyone else. Not now.” As to put emphasis on what she meant, her hand slid to the back of his head, fingers weaving into his hair. It felt unnatural and perfect all at the same time when he noticed his heart beating erratically. There was so much he wanted to say- to do.
He unwrapped himself from her, but kept a gentle grasp on her arm. He noticed the disappointment in her eyes, but her smile never waned. Her eyes raked over his form, her smile growing bigger. “Relaxation looks good on you.” Regis forgot that he was wearing noting really. He was stuck somewhere between bashful and prideful. He never really showed skin, but she had always had her fingers find an uncovered patch to brush.
Geralt had left them to get a meal ready. She had showed up mid-trim of his daily herb harvesting it seemed, but he was excited to get the two comfortable and talking. They all moved and sat around the table, Y/n gorging on the small sandwiches that were present. Regis just watched with hope. He didn’t know what he was hopeful for- it seemed that she showed up from the middle of something. Regis wasn’t expecting anything. She did have a life, and he wasn’t sure why Y/n was here. Geralt had laughed at the woman, slowly eating his own food.
“The road not proving prosperous?” She raised a brow, then realized she had already downed two, and was on her third.
“It’s just fine. I never did understand how you were so bad at finding coin and still be as generous as you were.” Regis raised his own brow, resting his chin on his folded hands.
“You’re still taking jobs?” Y/n wasn’t a Witcher nor a mage, but she was filling the need for those occupations. She was brilliant with a sword, her wits and will just as powerful. Regis assumed she had passed, but sometimes he liked to think that she was alive. With a family and a home.
“Yeah. I never really… settled.” He needed to know, continuing to push.
“How come?” She gave a humorless chuckle. Disbelief crossed her face, putting the sandwich down. Her eyes flew between Geralt and him, before leaning on the table, much like he was.
“I… I was apart of the Stygga plan, even if I left early. I was the last defense, waiting in the forest to make sure that if something went wrong, I could slip in and out. Maybe take out whoever was left. I…” Y/n’s hands started to fidget with her platter and her tone went quiet. Her eyes refused to meet his again, and he could hear her swallow heavily. “I stayed for so long, hoping you would somehow…. Emiel, I was there. I sat in front of- well, you, for so long. You died.”
Regis went rigid at the news, but Geralt had already known. He was the one who needed to go back and pull her from the scene. So many questions flooded him in that moment, it was hard to distinguish them. What does that have to do with her settling? Why had she still been doing dangerous things if she saw a possible outcome? Why was it so hard for people to find her?
Why hadn’t he looked for her?
Regis knew why. It was cowardice through and through.
“Why are you here now?” He scolded himself for having it come out the way it did. He looked to Geralt, almost as if he was accusing the man of rubbing of on him.
“I invited her.” Geralt smiled at him, before adding, “she’s going to stay in the guest room.”
“I had work near Novigrad when Dandelion all but threw himself into my hunt. Geralt asked after somehow tracking me down. And our famous bard is still eager to throw himself into harms way for his friends, so here I am.” Her smile was tepid as she finally looked to Regis again. Geralt excused himself, claiming he needed to finish with his herbs.
There was only a moment of silence before Y/n walked around the table and threw her arms back around him. The moment her forehead hit the crook of his neck; he could feel sobs rocking through her form. He was quick to hug back, cheek laying on her hair.
“I didn’t know.” His hand started rubbing her back, and pulling her closer. “I didn’t know you were alive or that… you had witnessed the result of that night.
“I n-never even tried-,” her sob cutting her off. It took a moment to compose herself before continuing. “ You died with my heart in your hands.”
