Chapter Text
The first time Luna met a Witcher she had only been around for 10 Winters.
Her town Villevere – a small, yet busy, cluster of houses, farmland and market stalls on the road between Dorian and Maribor - was riddled with fear, rumours of a monster attacking at nightfall, haunting wails echoing throughout the forest that bordered their homes. Local men had tried their hand at besting the monster, but it wasn’t long before flyers were posted and word travelled, 150 Oren for anyone who could take care of the problem – not enough payment for many, but there were a few desperate enough to try.
Late Summer, a stranger rode in, dirty and scarred, his expression neutral with eyes of an unnatural shade. Those at the market whispered to one another, the elders scowled, expressing their disdain as he dismounted his horse at the small local stable, patting its neck and talking to it softly. Luna watched the man from behind her mother, curiosity fuelled by the contrast of his harsh appearance and soft demeaner. She desperately wanted to follow as he made his way into the tavern, fascinated by the two swords sheathed upon his back.
“Who’s that Mama? Why is everyone whispering?” Her quiet voice piped up as those around them, somewhat cautiously, resumed business.
Her mother smoothed her head gently, causing her hair to fall into her eyes. A small smile gracing her lips. “A Witcher. He’s probably come to deal with the monster...”
“A Witcher??” Luna looked away from the tavern and up into her mothers deep blue eyes, fussing her hair from her vision with a frown, ever curious.
“Mmm perhaps this isn’t the best place...” Her mother glanced to her left, noting the accusatory look from the old bakers wife at the stall closest to them. She crouched to Luna’s level, tucking a small purple flower from her wicker basket behind the girls ear whilst fixing the mess of her hair. “I shall tell you once we’re home Flower~.”
Luna very almost pouted, looking around at the town folk. Why was everyone acting so secretive and rude if this man was there to help them? Surely they should be thankful that he had come. Shifting out from behind her mother as she stood, she smoothed down her skirt, eyes travelling back to the tavern door.
Perhaps she could sneak over, just for a peek, make as if she was going to see the horse in the stable...
The girl slid her boot gently through the dusty gravel on the ground beside her, scooting just a step away from the adults at the market stall beside her. Her mother didn’t seem to notice, deep in conversation with the farmer about this seasons harvest.
Another step.
Nobody looked her way.
She took a breath; walking as quietly and casually as she was able, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she crossed the path to the tavern door, stopping just outside it. The deep, musty smell from the dimly lit ale house filled her nostrils making her grimace as she carefully poked her head through the doorway, searching the room for the stranger.
He was sat at the bar, tankard in hand, flyer laid before him. He pushed it toward the bar-keep, Joren, an old, cranky man who looked as if he’d swallowed something sour, asking for details.
“Your monster, tell me about it.” His tone was stern, much like that of Luna’s teacher she thought as she slowly made her way inside, straining over the chatter to hear what was being said.
“We don’t appreciate your kind ‘ere Witcher, we already got someone takin’ care of it...” Joren said, indifferent, wiping down the bar. “I suggest ye move alo-“
“I know for a fact the last attempt ended in a young man passing well before his years and that was several days ago, so how about we skip the bullshit and I’ll deal with your problem. 150 Oren wasn’t it?” The Witcher’s voice was low, his gaze unmoving as he stared Joren down.
Luna noted that the usually unflappable bar-keep seemed to freeze for a moment, jaw clenching, fingers tapping on the ale stained wood. “Close to the woodland after nightfall there’s an awful wailin’... Number of men from ‘ere and there have been out to investigate but not many return, ones who do are scarred awful. Bleedin’ deep gashes, babblin’ about ghosts or somethin’.” He spoke so quietly it was hard to hear, eyes darting to a few of the occupants drinking hoping they hadn’t overheard. He didn’t want to scare the town further by letting out just how many had tried and failed. “Last lad died not long after he came back, wounds were too deep to heal. Local healer managed to get out of him that there were at least two o’ these ‘ghosts’ and they’re right fierce, attack unprovoked once ye get too close to where they’re wailin’...”
Luna’s eyes widened, feet shuffling back just enough for the men to hear that she was there. The pair turned their heads to face her, Joren scowling.
“Luna! What’re you doin’ in here? Get back to ye mother before she tans yer hide for sneakin’ about!”
The old bar-keep dropped his cloth onto the wood with a slightly damp flop, he made to move around the bar and shoo her out but she scurried away before he reached her, darting round the open door toward the stables, her mind reeling. She was relieved to see her mother still deep in conversation, her basket now full of various vegetables as well as her bundle of herbs and flowers.
Absentmindedly her arm reached up to pet the horse tied to post, stroking the length of its nose as it nuzzled at her gently. Just how many people had lost their lives to the monsters and why were they attacking unprovoked?? Joren had said that there were at least two, but that meant there could be many more than that, how many were there?? So many questions and thoughts were running through the young girls head she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, heavy boots on hard ground.
“I’m sure you know by now that it’s rude to listen in on others conversations, especially when it’s adults talking.” A rough, yet oddly calming voice came from her right, a large hand taking the reigns of the horse making her jump. She backed up a few steps, hands going to the front of her dress as she looked up at the older man.
The Witcher.
Upon closer inspection she could see why people may have been afraid, he was certainly an imposing figure - taller than many men she’d seen and fully clothed in heavy looking leather armour, his belt carried several items, few that she recognised but all looking dangerous. His hair was greying, the darkness of his natural colour visible on the underside, only just long enough to tie back so as to not get into his eyes, which were possibly the main reason people feared him. They were very much inhuman, the iris a deep amber colour that was unnatural in itself, but it was the pupils that really gave away that the man was not merely human. They were comparable to that of a cat, an inky black slit that ran vertically through the iris.
Luna wondered if all Witcher’s had such unique eyes.
“I...” She started, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to say. She wondered if those eyes gave him powers, like the power to see through lies. In the back of her mind a small voice told her that the thought was incredibly silly, but she opted to go with the truth, just in case. “I wanted to know about your swords.”
Leading his horse carefully from the stable, the Witcher, though subtle and brief, looked almost surprised at the words that tumbled from her mouth.
“My swords hm??” Checking his saddlebag, he pulled out a vial of green liquid, swapping it on his belt with one that was, to Luna’s eye, so similar she was convinced it was the same thing. She almost thought he wasn’t going to answer as he saddled up, the horse hoofing at the ground anxious to get moving. “One is for men, made from steel, the other of silver, is for monsters.”
Amber eyes looked down at her, a lip twitch of a smile so brief she may have imagined it. “It’s my job to try and ensure children like you never have to deal with problems from either.”
She hummed. “How comes other people don’t have silver swords?? If they did more people would be able to fight monsters and wouldn’t need to hire people to do it for them... Maybe less people would have died if they’d had a silver sword.”
The Witcher chuckled softly. “It’s a Witcher’s job to kill monsters Little One. There’s much more to it than simply owning a silver sword... Though perhaps you’re right and not as many would have perished if they had wielded one.”
Proud of herself for the thought, Luna smiled, readying herself to ask about the monsters.
“You best keep your word Vesemir, you make off with the down payment ‘n’ I’ll be sure Velerad will hear of it and have your head!” Joren scowled from the doorway of the tavern, arms folded.
The Witcher, Vesemir, did nothing but roll his eyes and encourage his horse back to the town gates.
“I don’t intend on leaving without the full payment... I’ll be back by morn for the rest of my coin.”
Questions left ruminating, Luna watched as Vesemir and his horse left the town, frowning at the interruption.
“Luna! Come now~” Her mothers voice cut through the noise, shaking her from her thoughts. She flashed her a knowing smile, telling her without words that she knew exactly what she’d been up to, Luna could hide nothing from her.
“I wasn’t bothering him... I just asked about his swords...” She mumbled, taking hold of the outstretched hand that would lead her home.
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That night, her dreams were filled with images of monsters being slain. The sword wielder’s footwork akin to a dance, both haunting and beautiful, the flow of give and take in the fight was mesmerizing. She only got the briefest of glances of the mans face as he fought, the predominant feature being his piercing golden eyes.
Upon waking Luna found her mind filled with even more questions than the day previous, her brain practically humming with the need to have them answered.
The soft singing of her mother calmed her thoughts as she wandered towards the kitchen;
“There's a leaf on a tree and it's swaying
And a girl 'neath the tree, with tears in her eyes.
There's a wolf on the run an’ he’s saying,
'Which way did you go sweet flower of mine.'”
Sitting at the small table, the smell of sweet herbs filling the room, her mother stirred the pot over the stove and skilfully spread the buttery cinnamon paste upon warm toast at the same time.
“I’m going to be busy today Luna sweet, but we’re in need of more bread. It’ll be your duty to fetch some from the bakers stall once you’ve had your breakfast...” She placed the toast down in front of her, smiling as the the girl eagerly dug in, nodding happily.
On their way home yesterday she heard some of the older women talking in hushed tones, expressing to children how ruthless Witcher's were; devoid of emotion and made only to kill monsters, that those without business for them should stay away and not attempt conversation as they were cold and dangerous.
Her mother however had spoke in length when they arrived home, telling her magnificent tales of men who train perilously to be able to rid the world of monsters, making it a safer place. From the encounter she’d had, Luna thought that perhaps her mother knew better than the townsfolk. Regardless, she wasn’t expecting her next words as her mother stepped back towards the pot, extinguishing the fire underneath it and adding a pinch of celandine.
“If you’re quick enough, the Witcher may still be around to answer your questions.”
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As promised, Vesemir had returned to the tavern, proof of kill in hand. Though nobody saw what it was, the bar-keep must have been satisfied as the Witcher left the building with a jingling pouch of coins.
“Thank you Mr Daven!” Luna smiled, handing the baker his payment and tucking the bread into her bag. She turned and watched as the Witcher spoke to a young woman on the corner, nodding in thanks as she pointed in the direction of the small number of housed stores the town had. Hesitating only briefly, Luna decided to follow after him.
If she caught up, she thought as she noted his ridiculously long strides, she could finally ask the questions plaguing her mind.
He stopped just before the door to the local herbalist, turning to look at her with a raised brow.
“It’s unwise to follow Witcher’s Little One... I suggest you go back to your mother.”
Luna frowned defiantly, holding her head high. “I’m not with mama today, she sent me to fetch bread on my own since the monsters are gone.”
“Ahh is that so?” Vesemir folded his arms neatly. “Then you best get her bread to her before she begins to wonder your whereabouts.” That small, almost non-existent smile returned to his face.
“She knows where I am, she always knows...” Smoothing her dress down, she continued. “How many monsters were there?? Joren said at least two but I know that adults sometimes lie and pretend things aren’t as bad as they are, but a lot of people have tried to kill them so there must have been lots... And if they were ghosts like he said then how did you kill them?? Ghosts can’t be hit by swords can they?? They’re not solid like people after all.”
The Witcher looked amused, allowing her to ramble; this girl was an anomaly to ask him so fearlessly about things that, usually, disturbed people far beyond her years. Children never seemed to be as scared of Witcher’s as their parents were, but none actively sought them out to question them.
“They were Wraith, not ghosts. They can change their form from solid to spectral.” He corrected her casually, noting her expression, curiosity and confusion.
“But then... Do they not just go all specter-y when you tried to hit them?”
His smile grew ever so slightly. “Yes, they often do, which is why our blade is coated in Specter Oil. It’s designed specifically for monsters like them.”
Her face lit up, an excited realisation coming over her. “Oh! Is that what the stuff in the vial was you took from your bag??”
His brow raised, the unexpected excitement throwing him off guard. Before he could answer, the door behind him opened and he turned to greet the occupant.
“Sylviede, it’s been a while.”
A woman appeared in the doorway, the smell of clove and ginger wafting from the dimly lit store. Dressed in a gown of deep red hues, her golden hair tied back, Luna recognised the woman as her mothers friend. Sylviede would sometimes visit her mother at their home, bringing herbs and coloured liquids; the two would often spend an evening talking of things Luna couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
“Ahhh Vesemir, I wondered when you’d show up at my door.” She smiled, gesturing for him to come in, glancing down at Luna. “I wasn’t expecting the Little Flower though.”
“She’s a curious one...” He looked back down at the girl before making his way inside, disappearing into the dark, smoky room.
Sylviede studied her thoughtfully, her eyes seeming to glaze over iridescently for a moment as an energy thrummed, almost as if it were rippling through the ground, travelling up where she stood into the depths of Luna’s being. Magick, she recognised, though not anything like her mothers. Still, she felt the chaos flow in a pulsating calm; like the ocean waves lapping the shore.
“Curious indeed...” Her eyes returned to their normal forest shade and her mouth turned into a knowing smile, much like her mothers. “Destiny has an interesting path for you Little Flower, when the time comes, do not fight it. He needs your calm.” The herbalist spoke softly, handing her a bundle of crushed petals and herbs.
“Give these to your mother for me, tell her to only use a pinch, it’s a rather potent one.” With the flick of her wrist, the door gently closed as she turned followed the Witcher inside.
Luna stood staring at the closed door, brow creased. He? Who was she talking about??