The Dragon and the Wolf Ch. 02

A/N -- Just to add some more thoughts to those I put at the start of the first chapter:

Obviously for all of my ideas to work, I will have to change a few things, perhaps mould characters slightly to fit the narrative I want for Ragnar. (One glaring one will be Geralt being mostly monogamous in regards to Yennefer, only sleeping with working girls, so certain relationships from the original Witcher, and also Witcher 2, won't appear for him. And it will be Ragnar sleeping his way around the Continent in this story.)

Otherwise, the story will generally follow the overarching story of the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, adding in my own ideas here and there, and having Ragnar does mean I can take certain liberties but not to the detriment of the lore... mostly...

One thing I will be trying to do is not include much game dialogue at all. No-one wants to read just a re-hash of what they read and hear for hours upon hours in the game, and as Ragnar is involved, it should lend itself to original dialogue. I will borrow bits and pieces here and there, where it makes sense.

*****

Chapter 2 -- Favour for a Favour

*****

I took a sip of my tankard as Geralt explained everything. Vesemir was quiet as always. He only spoke when his voice was needed, usually when advice was to be given and, more importantly, listened to. "So I'm looking for Yennefer is the crux of the matter, Ragnar. Don't suppose you've seen her ride through here?"

"Raven-haired beauty like her, dressed all in black, no doubt?" The smirk appeared on his face. I was one of the few he'd trusted with most of the story about them, how their lives were so inextricably linked together. "I'm sure I wouldn't have been the only one to notice her walk or ride through this place. How long have you been tracking her?"

"Not so much tracking. I received a letter from her, asking to meet in Willoughby. We heard news that the town had been burned to the ground during a recent battle, so we have tried picking up her trail, ended up here."

"What are you doing here anyway, Dragonborn?" Vesemir asked.

"I was part of the army that just got smashed to pieces. I could show you a few of the scars I was left with. Currently shacked up with the herbalist who has taken care of me." Both men gave me the sort of grin even without any sort of insinuation on my part. "To be honest, I've been a little lost as to what to do. Don't particularly trust any Black One not to try and strike me down if I were to wander around with a weapon."

"We haven't had too many problems though I guess our medallions give away who we are," Geralt stated.

"Heard about griffin attacks?" Vesemir wondered.

"Aye, a few peasants have mentioned of something making life more of a misery. No-one has posted a notice about it though."

"It was suggested we go speak to the local garrison," Geralt added, "Might be work for you there too."

"If I show up with a weapon and in armour..."

"Never took you to be so overly concerned, Ragnar," Vesemir stated.

"My memory of the battle is fuzzy, Vesemir. But what I do know is that I'm lucky to be alive. It's only thanks to Tomira that I can sit here with you now."

"She the herbalist you're bedding?" Geralt asked.

"Aye."

"We're going to camp nearby and likely see the Black Ones about the griffin. You should come with us tomorrow," Vesemir suggested, "Better than doing whatever it is your doing now."

"Woodwork and construction. Bit of farming too." That made the two men opposite chuckle. "Considering I spent over a week unconscious, and a couple of those days fighting off death, I'm just happy to be up and walking around. I'm sure you've been past a battlefield or two."

"We've ridden past a couple of them," Vesemir murmured, "Black Ones on the Pontar. Northern Kingdoms are on the brink. If they manage to cross..."

"It's not our fight," Geralt muttered.

"We might not be political but I don't like the idea of them dominating the Continent," Vesemir retorted, "Ragnar here is a stranger to our world and he picked up a weapon to fight for what was right."

"Something about them just rubs me the wrong way," I admitted, "But I hear rumours of what's going on up north over the river. Only rumours, but they're still disconcerting. But that's for another time. Let's get back why you're here. Yennefer. Any idea where she might be?"

Both men shrugged their shoulders. "We'll pick up her trail," Geralt replied, "We have a habit of finding each other. No doubt I'll stumble into her soon enough."

"If you're going to see the Nilfgaard garrison tomorrow morning, I'll meet you here and we'll go together," I suggested, both men nodding, "I do need some coin. Don't particularly want to leave Tomira..."

"You're getting comfortable, Ragnar. I'm not sure that's a good thing or not," Vesemir stated.

"You'll get bored soon enough," Geralt added, "She a redhead?" I shook my head. "Well, I'll be damned..."

I polished off my tankard and stood up. "I'll see you here in the morning. I don't have a horse at the moment so we'll have to walk."

"We'll have to rectify that when you'll eventually want to leave," Geralt said, "But we'll meet you outside in the morning."

I finished up my beer, bid the pair goodbye, and immediately heading back to Tomira. She knew me well enough already to know something was on my mind when I sat down the at the table, unsure how best to say. So I eventually took a breath and said, "A couple of people I know, guess I could call them friends, arrived in White Orchard just now. They're camping nearby."

"Oh, are they soldiers?"

"Not exactly. They're witchers."

"Witchers?" she asked in surprise, probably for the fact I knew anyway, "What brings them here?"

"One of them is searching for someone. They were supposed to meet elsewhere, but the plan went awry, so they're hoping to track her down. Dumb luck I just happened to meet them in the tavern."

"How do you know two witchers?"

"It's a long story, but part of how I arrived here is when I met them." I thought about and took a chance. "Don't suppose you've heard stories of the White Wolf?"

"Otherwise known as Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken? Aye, I've heard of him alright. He was once a regular visitor to the temple, though I never met him myself. Plenty of folk have heard of the stories and songs about him though. I'm amazed you know him personally."

"Part of that long story of how we met. Anyway, he's one of the two witchers I just met now. And if they're here, that is the gods telling me that..."

"Your time here is drawing to a close." She didn't sound sad, nor relived. She was being realistic. We both knew I would not be staying permanently.

"We're going to the garrison north of here tomorrow. They're going to look into dealing with a griffin nearby. I'm going to see if I can make a little coin, hopefully get my hands on a horse. I don't like the idea of dealing with the Black Ones, but I guess I'd best get used to the idea south of the Pontar."

"Temeria no longer exists, Ragnar. We're in Nilfgaard now. And unless something drastic happens, I don't see it changing anytime soon. Best we just accept it and get on with our lives." She sat next to me on the bench and leaned into me. "You won't be going too quickly though, will you?"

"I'm sure I'll be around for a few more days, at least."

"Best make use of the time we have left together then."

I glanced and gazed into her eyes. There was only one thing she wanted then and there. Five minutes later, she was naked on her back, one hand running through my hair, fingers of her other hand pressing into my back, her heels resting just above my arse as we made love. Mouths only parting when we needed to take a deep breath. She never stopped looking at me, as much as I returned her gaze. I'd felt this connection often with any lover. I'd always fallen in love very easily, but I'd rarely committed despite the deep feelings I would experience. It perhaps helped I was rarely in one place for too long, so the romances were always passionate, intense, but also brief before I moved on.

"Make sure you come back each night if you can," she whispered.

"For more of this?"

"Gods yes," she replied with a chuckle, "Go a while without sex, you forget how bloody good it feels."

I leaned down close to her ear, making her shudder as hot breath met her neck. I'd discovered it was a sensitive area that she loved me kissing, perhaps biting gently, but even just breathing on it was enough. "Would you like me to use my mouth too?" I breathed.

"I'd love a whole night of it."

"I swear you can sometimes read my mind, Tomira."

That earned me one of those smiles I always liked to see before she kissed me again. Our eyes met again, and the look in her eyes was also one I loved to see. No verbal communication needed as I started to pump her a little faster, the next kiss harder, the fingers at the back of my head holding my head tighter, her heels digging into my lower back even more. I groaned more than once as I could feel my orgasm building. She hadn't had one yet, but knew that, after I'd cum, I'd recover quickly and she could ride me to as many as she wanted.

Groaning as I came inside her, a few slow, deep thrusts before I finally stilled, resting myself above her as she gave me a gentle squeeze, feeling her nuzzle into my neck. I needed to move, feeling her legs release me as I pulled out and gently lowered myself onto my back, Tomira turning onto her side, cuddling into me, her fingers immediately trailing up and down my chest. "Are all Nordic men from your homeland like you?"

"Some, perhaps."

"Well, I can only thanks all the gods I can think of that they sent you here, at least."

She gave me all of five minutes before her hand moved down my body to my cock, the smile on her face broadening as she realised I was just as hard as before, swinging a leg over my body and slowly sliding down my cock, leaning down to give me a soft kiss.

Then she rode me hard and fast, her only intent to orgasm as quickly as possible, then she'd simply enjoy riding my cock for a lot longer after that. I have no idea how long she did, my hands enjoying the soft contours of her body, sitting up to definitely enjoying sucking at her breasts, which she certainly enjoyed as her hands held my head in place, plenty of soft moans escaping her.

And we certainly made each other smile as our last orgasm was almost shared at the same time, and certainly enough that had me lying back, feeling rather breathless, while she laid on my chest, her head just under my chin, this time my fingers trailing up and down her spine. "Definitely miss this," she whispered.

"Which part?"

"Oh, the fact I've just had quite a few orgasms but now you just hold me like this, your fingers proving very gentle on my body."

"If I ever find myself in the area again..."

"Ragnar, if the gods were to be that kind, there would only ever be one place you would be staying. In this house. In this bed. And preferably you would be inside me for at least part of your visit." I chuckled at how adamant she was about all of that. She lifted herself up and we shared another kiss. "But we still have time before you leave, so this isn't our last time we are intimate. Just don't do anything like going and getting yourself killed. And I'd rather not have you lying unconscious here again either."

"I'll do my best."

The next morning, I put on the leather armour I'd found, sheathed my sword and placed the shield on my back as I walked towards the tavern. Geralt and Vesemir were already waiting for me, and both of them didn't look particularly pleased. They never looked worried, but looking displeased suggested they had concerns. I didn't even need to ask. I knew what most people thought of witchers.

"Locals given you any trouble yet?" I asked.

"One or two have tried their luck," Vesemir replied, "We just don't rise to their bait. Even if we kill the griffin, it's unlikely they'll show any gratitude."

"Ragnar, you and I will go see the Black Ones," Geralt added, "Vesemir will wait here for now."

I glanced at the old man. "Took a hit on my shoulder on the way here. Best give it as much rest as possible before we look at taking on the griffin."

"While you're doing that, I'll see what other work they might have for me. I'll leave witcher work to those trained for it."

"You've killed your share of monsters, Ragnar," Geralt stated.

"Aye, that is true, but I'm not carrying any silver right now. And, as I said, I will generally leave it to the experts. Ghouls and drowners I can handle. Just take a silver sword and stab the fuckers. But some of the monsters you deal with are beyond my expertise."

"Shame you were too old when you landed near Kaer Morhan. Considering your skill with a sword," Vesemir started but trailed off. I'd heard it often enough by now.

"Aye, I thought fighting dragons was bad enough. End up here and find a world just full of monsters. Think it's the Nine having a laugh at my expense for some reason."

Geralt turned to Vesemir. "We'll be back later."

The old man nodded, Geralt and I heading off. I'd learned long ago that Geralt of Rivia wasn't what I would call a conversationalist, generally making do with grunts and, if necessary, a short sentence. Despite what people thought, though, he wasn't an emotionless. I'd seen the man show more heart in certain situations than anyone else considered human. But he also showed no pity and absolutely no mercy when it was required.

"Never thought I'd find you around here," he stated after at least an hour of silence.

"I could ask what you've been up to but..."

"It's a long story. When were you last in Vizima?"

"That's where I finally joined up with the army. We kept being pushed north before the Black Ones finally smashed us to bits."

"Considering your gift..."

"You know I don't use it, Geralt. Shit, if I did, two things. One, I don't think I would have changed the outcome of the battle, though perhaps killed a few more of the enemy. And, two, I have no doubt the Black Ones would have killed me then and there once they found my body, or strung me up on one of the gallows you've no doubt seen. You know I'm not a one-man army. Never did anything back home by myself. Was always surrounded by friends and allies."

"When did you last see Vernon?"

"Fuck... weeks, at least. No doubt he's carrying on some sort of guerrilla campaign but I don't have much hope for the man. From what I've heard, the Black Ones are hunting down any spies or special forces operatives that might be working in secret."

Geralt remained silent for a while again, though I knew he had one question forming in his mind. Though he was naturally worried about Yennefer, he knew about my penchant for... well, having any number of lovers. And quite a number of my lovers were sorceresses, if you're being polite, or witches, if you are not. "Heard from anyone of the Lodge?" he finally asked.

"Spread to the five winds is all I know. I've heard rumours of what's happening north of the river. Hard not to, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. I naturally worry about friends and lovers, but most of them are capable enough of looking after themselves."

He just grunted at me, and that was the end of the conversation. I had no doubt he probably knew a lot more than myself. I'd been so busy preparing for battle, then recovering, it had been a few months since my life had been anything but that. And our last meeting had been... I tried to think of when we'd last seen each other. It had been some time. Our paths had a habit of crossing, but we rarely travelled together for too long.

The Nilfgaard garrison was positioned one of the few major hills in the area, guarding the most important river crossing in the area, based in the remains of what I assumed was once a fortress. I knew that it had been in the hand of Temerian forces until recently, so wasn't surprised Nilfgaard took it for themselves as it provided a perfect view of the surrounding area.

I was rather surprised that they just let us stride up without being stopped, but with his two swords on his back, his white hair, and his eyes, most people could figure Geralt within seconds of meeting him, or assume who or what he was on approach. Not having two swords, with long blonde hair and beard, and being slightly taller than him, I certainly earned more suspicious glances.

Climbing the stairs towards the gate leading into the garrison itself, the guards were naturally uncooperative, but Geralt managed to talk his way in. I'd been with him often enough to know that he did have at least one or two diplomatic bones in his body. He didn't sweet talk, he just used logic. Help me, help you, kind of thing.

The invaders had certainly made themselves at home. There were guards posted everywhere on lookout duty, other men were either sleeping, eating, or relaxing. Others were hard at work. The battle might have been over, the war on hiatus, but that didn't mean the work stopped. Everyone knew that Nilfgaard had ambitions to push even further north.

I felt the stares of many of those that we passed as we were pointed in the direction of the commander. Geralt always drew stares anyway, but even the thickest of Nilfgaardian soldier would look at me, put two and two together, and would wonder why I was now walking alongside a witcher in the direction of their commander. I certainly sensed the presence of more than one follow, and Geralt glanced at me as he no doubt heard a weapon or two readied, just in case.

The commanding officer of the garrison was busy with another peasant, talking about grain or something or other, I tuned out, leaning against the wall, until their conversation was finished. He looked up and gestured us forwards once the peasant had walked by us, muttering to himself.

He looked between us before his eyes stopped. "Who are you?"

"Geralt of Rivia. I'm a witcher."

"A vatt'ghern? What brings you to my humble garrison?"

"Favour for a favour. I'm looking for someone. Yennefer of Vengerberg." Even I noticed his eyes. He recognised the name immediately. "But I know you won't just hand that over without something in trade. And I know what you're going to ask."

He nodded, understanding the insinuation. Hands behind his back, he stood a little straighter. "Captain Peter Saar Gwynleve. Despite what many think of us, we are not monsters. I have been placed in charge of this region and will work to ensure the peasants are kept safe. I am a farmer myself, but I chose to serve Nilfgaard and its emperor when called upon."

"Fine words, can you live up to the ideal?" I asked.

He glanced my way but didn't reply. "I'm sure you've heard of the griffin bringing terror to the region, vatt'ghern. So, as you said, a favour for a favour. You take care of the griffin, I will provide you the information you seek regarding Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"Who are you?" he asked, "You are no witcher."

"Ragnar Dragonborn."

"Interesting name. One I have read about it in dispatches. You have a reputation as a mercenary."

"Aye, I won't deny I've fought for coin. I'll also do jobs for coin."

"You fought with the Temerians?"

"Aye, I was lucky to survive, unlike plenty of poor bastards on either side."

His eyes moved to the sword, sheathed at my hip. "Many would be concerned about someone who fought for our enemy showing up in our garrison armed."

"The war is over, captain. Temeria no longer exists, and my allegiance ended with their defeat. So I come to offer my services, purely as a way of making coin."

"Hmmm. Rare I'd hear such honesty." He looked down at the map on his desk, looked back up at me, the map again, before he nodded to himself. "Bandits are making lives difficult for both my soldiers and the local peasantry. Some might be deserted soldiers, others might just be criminals taking advantage of the lack of law and order as we try and restore it." He gestured me closer. "We've had reported of bandits in these areas here, here and here. Would it bother you if you were to eliminate them, even if they were those you served alongside?"