Like How Would He Not - Blog Posts

Your Voice Remains

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Masterlist

Summary: Young!Geralt is reminded of his mother Warnings: Angst; vulnerable Geralt A/N: This was the result of a heavy writers block so please have mercy on my poor soul

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

There was it again, this feeling which bubbled up in him. It was like it started right from his quietly beating heart and spread throughout his entire body. 

First his legs would stop obeying his command and he would pause in the middle of whatever he was doing. Next were his arms and hands which immediately dropped to his sides while everyone who looked upon him would immediately believe him to have heard something important, his superior senses making out the quietest of whimpers or footsteps. An alert witcher on his job, looking out for any monsters he might have to slay in order to gain some coin.

This feeling though, which felt more like a paralysis, would cause all of his senses to freeze. And as his eyes refused to avert from the scene before him, his throat began to tighten and his eyes started to burn. 

The first time this had happened he had been worried. Had he been poised? But how could this be possible? 

“Geralt?” their voices he had barely recognized, the sound of his own breathing filling his ears and consuming everything around him. His vision blurry like a memory he had already forgotten. 

A memory.

A memory he had already forgotten but was reminded of every time he saw her. He saw her in every woman that tended to her children. 

calm lullabies which called him to this unknown but still longed for comfort, like a hug he had never gotten but oh so desperately needed. 

As he watched the young boy and his mother in the garden of the small village he had been sent to, he found himself unable to move. 

Why was he forced to stand here? An outsider, a mutant and a freak. Stripped from every warm embrace he might have had if he had had the opportunity to lead a normal life. 

Did she abandon him? Was it like Vesemir had told him so many moons ago? He had believed him for a while without ever questioning it again. 

His mother had abandoned him, couldn’t care for him without having to sacrifice herself so she left him behind. 

Geralt never thought of her, why would he? She probably starved in that harsh winter in which he had been found. 

Yet one single dream had him in a chokehold. 

A young boy, staring back at his own reflection in the water, brown strands of hair falling into his eyes. 

"Geralt? Come now, we want to be back before dusk!”

“Coming!” 

The ground shifted beneath him and suddenly he was looking up at a woman. A woman he had never seen before and yet when she smiled he had been filled with a warmth that he was too shy to describe to any of his brothers let alone Vesemir. 

He awoke drenched in sweat. The sweet image that was still fresh in his mind horrified him more than any monsters he had ever fought, human or creature. 

And just as he did back when he sat up in his bed, he whispered to himself

"Mother.."