Chapter Text
It had been the worst trip since the White Wolf started the Witcher’s new creed. In the last 20 years, this was the worst. Kolgrim was in Temeria and first of all, fuck Temeria. Sure the White Wolf had conquered Temeria from that conniving, cowardice Henselt but the people would not change easily. His team of four took contracts when asked, they fought their monsters, and yet they scorned and sacked them to the wilderness they just cleansed. It was a fucking awful reminder of how preciously they were treated in Kaer Morhen and how it was before the White Wolf.
Yet another alderman tried to stand his grounds that he only said 3 coppers per head when in fact each of the Witchers remembered 3 silvers. But they didn’t kill random aldermen who were too cheap to keep their word. “Take it and leave,” the middle-aged man shoved the all too light pouch at them, not caring that it fell off his chest. But Kolgrim was not a Wolf with morals, he was a Viper.
But before he could strike, a hand whipped out and clopped the alderman over the head. “Stop it, Father.” She was a small thing, like Lambert’s swan was before she met Lambert. But feisty from her glare to her father and the lack of fear in her scent with four Witchers standing at her door. “You had promised them 3 silvers per head, we all heard you.” She gestured to her two younger sisters looking from behind. Their bright wide eyes stared at the big scary Witchers looming over their father and sister but they did not cry. Though there was a small trickle of fear in their innocent scent. The eldest daughter turned to Witchers and bowed, forcing her father to bow with a hand pulling his collar down. Feisty and strong, “I apologize for my father’s sin against you all. I’m sure you already have to deal with enough beyond old cheap men who don’t keep their end of a deal.” She pointedly shot her words to her scowling father as she handed Kolgrim a heftier pouch. “There is an inn in the western part of town. Tell them to put the tab under Amarose. We are grateful for your services.” The we she spoke of didn’t seem like speaking of the collective.
“This is more than enough, lass.” Coën from the Griffins bowed in gratitude as his brothers walked away from the house with their proper payment. They all glanced at each other and just shrugged. An odd encounter but nothing to note.
That is until Kolgrim, who was in the back heard them starting to talk to each other behind closed doors. “Are you insane?!” The Viper frowned as he heard flesh sharply hitting flesh. His feet stopped in their tracks. “That was all the money for the month?! What are you going to do now?! What of your sisters?!” The old man’s words growled with rage, his words cutting as sharp as the slap.
“It wouldn’t’ve been the last of it if you don’t drink yourself to oblivion every night,” her words were just as fiery as before in their sharp hissing and he had to give it to her. She had guts. “Don’t worry about the girls like you always do. I’ll figure it out. I’ll just get more customers like you always tell me to.” She sneered before she seemingly walked away from the conversation. Kolgrim was not an honorable Wolf or chivalrous Griffin but something didn’t sit well with him.
The inn keep was decent, didn’t blink much to the four Witcher that walked into his establishment. He even pointed them to a decent whorehouse after they settled the bill. It had been a while since he had a good lay. Though would he want to deal with the twinge of fear constantly in his nose while he fucked a whore? But something sparked his interest. “Do you know of an Amarose?” He asked the barkeep as he grabbed their tankards.
“Amarose? The whore? Sure I know, if you know what I mean.” Kolgrim wanted to just stab the barkeep’s eye for that stupid wink. “Not as voluptuous as Matilda but sensible. One of the few who aren’t afraid of it a bit rough.” Kolgrim grunted and grabbed the tankards. Maybe he will try to find someone who would take a Witcher to bed.
This was definitely the place. The whores didn’t even hide as they lured the next drunk lot into their bosoms, all decently padded if he were to guess. Scanning the reception room, he recognized a familiar face near the back door and an obviously annoyed expression on her face. “Get the fuck out, Edgor. I thought the Mistress banned you.”
“Oh come on, Amarose~ just one night! I swear I’ll be good this time.” The pathetic man begged, clinging to her as she just gave him a look of disgust.
“The last time you said that, you almost choked Racheal to death, you fucking piece of shit.” She growled. The girl had some fangs. “Get out before I get the Mistress.”
“Look, I have money! I know about what your father did with those Witchers. I know you need the money.” Now he was desperately trying to push a pouch into her crossed arms. Kolgrim ignored the inquiry from the management as he pushed through the crowd. “Think about little Fiona and Edith.”
The disgust and disdain was clear in her scent and she sneered at the ex-patron. “I would rather bed a Witcher than ever have to look at you again.”
“I could help with that,” Kolgrim smirked, all teeth, as he stood right behind her. She jumped a little but calmed down quicker than he thought she would as the pathetic excuse of a man ran off with his tail tucked between legs.
She sighed, her annoyance rushing out of her as she gave him a grateful smile. People don’t give Vipers a grateful smile. “Thank you. He’s been a menace for the last few months and finally the Mistress kicked him out. Poor Racheal’s been barely able to take any patrons since then.”
“If he comes, I’ll be in town for a few days.” Her eyes widened in as much shock as he was with his own sudden words. “Don’t like to be in debt to anyone.” Which was technically the truth.
“Might just take you up on that then.” She grinned up at him with a sly yet possibly flirty smile. But no one flirts with a Witcher. “So what can I do for you, Witcher? Yulith isn’t the most outgoing but she wouldn’t shy from a Witcher. Or if you like red-heads, there’s Viola.” She pointed to some other whores scattered about the room.
But he shrugged, “wanna try bedding a Witcher?” Why was he so invested in this one whore? He was a Viper. He didn’t do people.
Her eyes widened not of fear, he had a hunch she would never fear a Witcher, but of shock. “Oh, sounds interesting.” She composed herself after a moment and her hand hesitated to grab his. “May I?” He nodded curtly because what else was he supposed to do? She led him to a room at the end of the second floor, past the rooms that already had their occupants making messy sounds. “It’ll be quieter inside. I promise,” she smirked as his scowl worsened as they went deeper. And it really was. He could still hear their moans and mewls, curtesy to his Witcher hearing, but it wasn’t obtrusive. The bard below was louder. “See? Now before we do anything, you need a bath.” He glanced down at himself. There wasn’t blood and to him he looked decent enough. “I’ll bed a Witcher but not dirt and filth so off with the arsenal you got there.”
Kolgrim snorted but did as he was told. This Amarose was a good enough person to follow. For now. Stripped and weapons stowed away just close enough if needed, she guided him to the bath. “In.”
“Demanding.” He gruffed back but followed her command. The water wasn’t cold but it wasn’t the scorching heat of the Kaer Morhen hot springs. He couldn’t complain though after the months of cold river water for the occasional wipe down.
“Better than a babbling fool,” she pulled a stool to sit by his head. “May I?” She nodded towards his head with a vial of some sort of floral smelling concoction.
“And that is?”
“A hair soap I created. Pays more than some of my patrons.” She grinned as he sighed and nodded. It was weird. Her touches were so gentle like they were asking if each touch was okay. And it was okay. He relaxed further into the bath as her hands gently massaged his head smelling like honeysuckle, firm enough to release the tension of travel. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Witcher.” She giggled as he hummed, “tell me a story.”
“Of what? I kill monsters, get paid shit for it, and get dumped back onto the road.” He gruffed out.
But as soon as he smelled the slight guilt seeping through the honeysuckle, he regretted his harsh words. “I’m deeply sorry for what my father did. You already go through so much to help us,” she brushed the scar on his temple so lightly he barely felt it, “and yet still get scorned and cursed.”
“It happens.” He waved off her concern, “it’s better now.” Since the White Wolf. “Plus some foolishly brave girl slapped her own father to get him to pay up.” He smirked at the blush he could see from the corner of his eye.
“My father can be a downright git sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” He scowled as he remembered their conversation. “A father that sends his daughter to a whore house to earn coin for his drinking is not just a git sometimes.” He was now up and giving her a firm look. “That’s just a fucking piece of shit that doesn’t deserve any right to his own children.”
Her eyes widened and for a moment he thought she was going to cry and what was he supposed to do with a crying girl? But instead her smile was humorless and tugged him lightly to lay back down. “Thank you but this is how the human world works.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” he grumbled. No one living under the White Wolf should live like that. He may be a Viper but he was learning that truth.
“Okay, just need to rinse.” She quietly said as she finished helping him clean up. He did think his hair felt much smoother than it usually did. “See that wasn’t too bad was it?”
He shrugged as he dried himself off. “Water could’ve been much hotter.”
She chuckled and guided him to the bed, “I’ll remember that for next time.” Her hands were soft against his body as they ran over his scars without a second thought. “Now shall we make the most of your coin?”
He grinned and how was she not afraid of his fangs? “Don’t die on me.”
Kolgrim had never felt so relaxed after a night with a whore. He was still ready to strike anything that threatened his (and Amarose’s - he didn’t think too closely about that thought) safety the moment he needed to but he was content to just lie there with Amarose’s breath lightly blowing against his shoulder. And how foolishly she was leaving herself vulnerable towards a Viper was baffling. “Downright fool,” he muttered as he kept his arm around her waist. Yet strangely, his finger tip didn’t itch for a blade as he traced circles against her soft skin. Why wasn’t she afraid? None of his brothers said anything when he barely slept at the inn for the whole time they were in town, smelling of honeysuckle. There was no goodbye when they left to continue their trip but he did glance back towards the whorehouse before crossing back into the wild.
It was another 2 months when they finally stepped into the familiar town on their trip back to Kaer Morhen. There were a few more monsters to kill, a few more contracts to fulfill, rumors to keep track of. But they were finally heading home. Kolgrim didn’t immediately head to the whore house the first night they came back to her town. Why would he? He was a Witcher and she was just a whore. But she wasn’t just a whore. She was as fiery as his sister Serrit is, magical with her fingers. She was caring and loved her sisters to death. She let him polish his weapons without talking to her. She was content with silence as much as she was talking. And she was on his mind the whole two months. It wasn’t even the darkest point of night as he snuck out of the inn and down the alley.
The whorehouse had not changed much. A different bard sang from the podium as whores hailed their next patron. The Mistress recognized him and her eyes went wide but motioned him over. “Sorry but your favorite isn’t available.”
He frowned. “Where is she?” Kolgrim wouldn’t admit he was worried.
“Didn’t come in tonight. Told her not to. Had a real rough one.” The Mistress sighed, “told her not to pick a fight she couldn’t handle.” He was already out of the building before she could finish. Damn it, he was fucking worried.
Kolgrim ran to the house he remembered meeting her for the first time with her fiery temper. But his hand hesitated to knock. What was he doing here though? Did she even remember him? For sure, she just thought of him as another patron. “Witcher?” Kolgrim jolted out of his thoughts as he smelled honeysuckle for the first time since what seemed like forever.
But the bruises around her eyes, around her throat, the vague tint of blood clinging to honeysuckle made his rage burst. “Who did this?” He growled as he checked over her, tilting her head to get a better look. Rope burn, red and raw stained her smooth skin. Cuts just deep enough to bleed but shallow enough not to kill.
“It’s nothing,” she deflected as she went back into her house, finding a mug to fill with some ale. “What are you doing here?”
“The Mistress told me.” She nodded but didn’t look at him as she handed him the mug. “Look at me,” he didn’t like how she was avoiding him. This wasn’t the Amarose he remembered. A fear and hurt surrounded her but when she finally met his eyes, he knew it wasn’t towards him. “Who did this? And I can hear if you’re lying.”
She gave a watery laugh, tears filling her eyes and yet never falling from their perch. “Do you remember that man the first night?”
“The pissy wuss?” She nodded with a smile that lacked humor. “I’m going to kill him,” hand already on steel, he stormed out of the house. But a hand, a soft hand very different from his, stopped him. “He hurt you.”
She frowned a little, her brow creasing in the middle. “Why do you care?” She whispered.
He was floored by the question, why did he care? Because he liked how smooth she was without a scar. He liked how she always smelled of honeysuckle. Because he wanted her to always be the fiery ball of sarcasm and wit. But the slam of the door was more than enough warning he got for the drunken cloud of alcohol to waft into the house. “Oi! You little whore! Why aren’t you getting more coin?” The alderman, too drunk to notice the looming Witcher, pointed to his eldest daughter with a disapproving scowl, a bottle sloshing precariously in his hand. “Who cares about your little wounds? They’ll heal.” Kolgrim wanted to kill him. But Amarose wouldn’t want that. “Do you want your sisters to starve?”
“Father, you’re drunk. Go to bed.” She sighed and went to herd him to his room.
But her father refused, “don’t talk back to me, fucking whore!” Kolgrim could barely hear the tiny gasps of the two younger sisters as he saw red.
His hand was bone crushing around the alderman’s raised hand, the bottle crashing down to the floor instead of Amarose’s head. “Don’t fucking touch her,” he growled, no doubt his eyes burning with rage.
“Witcher!” Amarose’s arms wrapped around his waist to pull him away but no matter how strong she was, how was she supposed to move a Witcher twice her size? “Father, please stop embarrassing yourself.”
Kolgrim let go but didn’t bother removing himself from Amarose’s arms. It was the only thing keeping his temper. But apparently her father had other plans. “Of course you sided with a filthy Witcher! No wonder only the violent ones want you now, you whore!” He growled out as he held his wrist to his chest. “Well if you won’t be of any use, I’ll send one of your sisters. Gods know they’re just dead wei--” he didn’t finish that sentence before Kolgrim punched him unconscious.
Amarose stared in shock at her unconscious father on the floor and then sighed, “was that really necessary?” She glared at him but didn’t hold much heat as she knelt and felt for a breath before laying him on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his own blood. Amarose was too good for this poor excuse of a father.
“You wanted to do it. Better have my hands dirtied than yours.” He plainly said as he picked up the mug of ale she had put down on the table and downed it. “Plus I pulled my punch considerably. He’ll be awake by tomorrow.”
She stared at the man laying on the ground with a deep frown. “He wanted to sell my dear sisters like he did me. Of course I wanted to punch him.” She hissed, “maybe even take one of your daggers and stab him once. Or a couple times.”
Kolgrim snorted at her blood thirst and couldn't help the pride that bubbled a little. “You still can.” He tilted his head towards the array of knifes along his hip and legs.
She rolled her eyes as she got up and fluffed her skirt. There was a humorous smirk on her face though. “Well we can’t stay here for sure.” He raised his eyebrow at her casual desire to stab her own father more than just once. “He’ll have us dead by tomorrow night if we did,” there was no lie in that and he hated it.
“Come to Kaer Morhen.” He didn’t know why he said that. Who was he kidding? He said it because of honeysuckle and her sharp grins. “Apparently it’s become some sort of sanctuary for abused nobles.”
“I assure you I am no noble.” She scoffed but didn’t seem opposed.
“You’re noble enough to me.” He shrugged, “so?”
“My sisters?” She glanced at the door just down the hall.
“Witchers are getting better at becoming babysitters.” She snorted and finally the awful smell of pain and fear was gone.
“Help me pack a few things?” He nodded, “there’s a large bag in that chest with some better boots, grab whatever food you fancy. I’ll get them ready.” He did as he was told as he kept an ear towards the secluded room.
“What happened to Father?” The older one asked.
“He was an idiot and made a Witcher very very mad.”
“Is he going to hit us too?” Kolgrim froze at the frightened question, Fuck.
But Amarose just cooed comfort to them, “of course not. He never would hit you two or me. He may look scary with his big swords and sharp fangs but he is very sweet and likes baths.” He grunted. A Viper was not sweet. “Now we need to go. Father is no longer our father.”
“Why?”
“Because he did something unforgivable and made me absolutely hate him.” She did not tell a single lie. “Do you trust me?.... Okay, then you will be safe and I will always love you.” It wasn’t too long until he had the pack over his shoulder and Amarose had the younger one in her arms and the other curled against her leg. They were each changed into more appropriate clothes for travel, decent boots waiting for Amarose at the door. “Let’s go.” She did not look back at the man laying on the floor. He was no one to her anymore.
Coën gave Kolgrim a look but nodded as the Viper led the three sisters to his room at the inn. “You guys can sleep here for the night. We’ll leave after breakfast.”
He turned to leave and guard the door when a soft hand held his. “Thank you, Witcher.”
He realized he never told her his name. “Kolgrim.”
Her smile was smaller than her sharp grin but no less beautiful. “Thank you, Kolgrim.” Meditating outside the door, he didn’t pay attention to the knowing looks from the Griffin but just focused on the even breaths of the eldest sister’s breath.