7 Symptoms

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Philippa questioned.

"Are you going to keep asking questions?" Geralt sighed.

"Until you start giving answers."

Geralt and Philippa continued their way to Velen with some coin in their pocket. They were close to Velen now, the No Man's Land. They would likely be there in a day or so, riding at the pace they were going.

"Yes, we're going the right way, and yes, we'll be where we need to be soon." Geralt responded.

Philippa didn't appreciate his curt tone, but didn't voice it. She figured she'd give the man a break given the circumstance. Their little detour had got them some money, and they were on their way to their destination. She didn't have much to complain about if she was being completely honest.

But naturally, fate had a sense of humor.

A sudden wave of nausea hit Philippa like a warhammer. She got light headed, and her stomach turned. It hit her so suddenly, that she nearly toppled from her horse. Great, this is just what she needed. They were so close to their destination, and her body was having a fit of some sort. Of all the-

"PHILIPPA."

Philippa was pulled from her thoughts, and looked at Geralt, who was staring at her with concern.

"I called your name several times." He said, looking her over. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Philippa lied.

"You're sweating."

"It's warm out."

Geralt frowned at her, not buying her words. She could've just told him how she was feeling at the moment, but truthfully she didn't want to hold up their progression again. She was embarrassed.

"Philippa of something is the matter-"

"NOTHING is wrong Geralt. We need to press on. I'm perfectly capable of..of-"

As Philippa spoke, the feeling of an impending sneeze hit her.

"AAA-CHOOO!"

Now, being a Witcher meant that Geralt could react to things faster than the normal man. This applied to both his physical prowess, and mentally - he could react and process moments in his head quickly. But even then, he was not quite sure what he had just seen.

Philippa sneezed, and then her horse was gone.

Not faded away, or entered a portal. Just gone. Philippa herself didn't realize what had happened until her bottom hit the ground painfully. Quick as a whip, Geralt dismounted Roach and ran over to her, kneeling beside her.

"Philippa, are you ok?" He asked, looking around trying to assess his surroundings. "What happened?"

"I'm….not sure." Philippa answered, rubbing her sore bottom. Geralt took the opportunity to take off his glove, and feel Philippa's skin. She was hot; not like a fever but rather as if her skin was giving off a source of heat.

"Philippa, you're-"

"FINE. Don't worry about me, worry about what happened to the H-h-h-HCHOO!" Philippa sneezed again.

"NYYYGGH" Came a sound above them. Geralt looked up, and 50 feet in the air was Philippa's horse, coming down fast right on top of them. Geralt pushed Philippa away, and stepped back. The steed came crashing to the ground with a hard thud. Geralt could hear dozens of bones break as the poor animal writhed and neighed in pain on the ground. Philippa looked absolutely bewildered, and a bit ashamed.

"I...think we should stop." Geralt said. Philippa didn't argue.

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Geralt set up camp a bit away from the road. He put Philippa's poor beast out of its misery, and dragged it out of the road so it wouldn't block the path of any other travelers.

Philippa resigned herself to sitting on a tree stump, as far away from Geralt as she could be at the moment. She wouldn't face him, or talk to him. Geralt figured it'd be smart to give her some space. But no one ever said Geralt was a smart man. He of course decided to push the issue. He walked up behind her, and could hear her muttering to herself under her breath. "Accidental magic. Fucking accidental magic! I haven't done that since I was 12."

"Accidental magic? That what that was?" He asked, getting her attention. She glared at him over her shoulder, mad that he could move silently, and that he overheard her. "Is it because of the baby?" Geralt found himself asking. Philippa didn't answer immediately, but he saw her visibly stiffen.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with." She said tightly. "It won't happen again."

"Judging by you making it rain horses from nothing more than a sneeze, I don't think that's up to you."

"And what do you know of it?" Philippa snapped, whipping around to face the Witcher. "I've forgotten more than you could ever know about magic. I've studied the craft for your lifetime, twice over. Thrice! So don't dare to tell me about my magic!"

Geralt raised an eyebrow at the ranting Sorceress. Reminded him of Yennefer would often take it out on him when something went wrong, or south in her life. And like with her, he knew it had nothing to do with him. Philippa was embarrassed. Geralt remembered when Ciri would have fits of accidental magic when she was young: One time she accidentally made all the hair on Geralt's body fall off. Luckily it only took a week or two for most of it to grow back. But accidental magic in such a seasoned magic user - well it was like wetting the bed at 40. So he let her rant, sitting there as she complained and berated him. He knew she needed it right about now. This situation, her current status as an outlaw of her home nation, the pregnancy - Philippa lost control of so much in her life, so quickly. Her magic was the only thing she had complete control over, and even now she was losing that.

Philippa ranted and raced for another 10 minutes or so, before she went back to scowling and ignoring Geralt. It was early in the day still, and Geralt wanted to push on forward, but they were now down one horse, and he didn't want to risk the same fate happening to his Roach. They sat in uncomfortable silence until night, and decided to call it in early, hoping to make up for the lost day by waking up at dawn. Geralr insisted on checking on Philippa's condition again before they slept, pressing his hand to her head. She wasn't hot anymore, but she still had an unnatural sweat. He thought it best that they sleep with some distance between them, lest Philppa accidentally hex him - or purposely. Phillipa found that just fine, still in a foul mood.

They slept through the night with little issue. Periodically Geralt would wake and slyly check on Philippa, who was sleeping soundly. He went back to sleep for the final time until morning. When he awoke, the sun was just coming up over the horizon. He stretched, and went to stand, but strangely, he couldn't feel the ground below him. Awareness coming back to him, Geralt looked around and that's when he realized he was levitating several meters in the air. He looked down at Philippa who was none the wiser, still sound asleep.

"Erm, Philippa." He tried. Philippa just mumbled in her sleep and turned onto her side. Slowly, Geralt began to rise in altitude.

"Philippa! Philippa wake up." He exclaimed as he began to get further from the ground. Several meters turned into 5, and then 6, and then 8. Geralt turned and flipped in the air as he tried in vain to control his ascent.

"PHILIPPA!"

Philippa snapped awake at the sound of Geralt's voice, rolling onto her back, and seeing the Witcher levitating above her.

"Wha-" She started to say, before whatever magic that was holding Geralt suddenly released, and he same crashing back down, landing on his back with a hard thud.

Now Philippa was fully awake, rushing to Geralt's side to check on him.

"Geralt! Gods, are you okay?" She asked in worry.

"Never better." He responded sarcastically, groaning in pain. He sat up, and cracked his shoulders a few times. "No permanent damage."

"Did...did I do that?" Philippa asked, voice sheepish.

"I think you already know the answer to that." Geralt said, standing and stretching his back. Philippa's face was conflicted, looking a mixture of shame and anger.

"I'm...I didn't mean-" She began, voice pained

"None of that, now." Geralt said, cutting her off. "You were asleep. You didn't know what was happening."

That was the wrong thing to say evidently. Philippa let out a loud groan of frustration and stood from her sleeping roll.

"I'm a Sorceress dammit! Master of the arcane arts, manipulator of the very fabric of this world. I've studied for 100s of years to be able to have control over my magic. I EARNED it….and now I'm like a child casting their first spell." She said solemnly. She wrapped her arms around herself, and looked at the ground. Geralt wasn't a master at comforting people, but he walked behind her, and wrapped his arms around her supportively, hands going to her stomach. She stiffened, but didn't try and pull away.

"I know this is all a lot, but you've been strong this far." Geralt praised. Philippa didn't respond, but she ever so slightly relaxed into his touch. They stayed like that for a bit.

"This is all your fault you know?" Philippa finally said, some of her signature haughtiness back in her voice.

"I know."

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The pair decided they'd walk for the first part of the trek. Geralt wasn't keen on putting Roach at risk if Philippa's magic flared up again. It added time to their travels, but it was the safest route. It had already been 4 days since they left Vizima, but the Nilfgaardian agent was a local, unlikely to go anywhere far.

They walked along the rode, Geralt leading Roach, and Philippa a free paces in front of them. He wanted to give her a bit of space lest she accidentally summon a bolt of lighting, or something of that nature. She still was in a melancholy mood so she didn't speak much as they traveled. Geralt actually found himself missing her constant questions and pestering; made the road feel empty.

Philippa would occasionally look back at him, and he'd offer her a slight smile, which she did not return. A few times she looked back, she noticed Geralt was looking up, over her head. After a while she asked "What?"

Geralt simply pointed over her head, and the Sorceress tilted her head up. Flying overhead was a group of half a dozen or crows, circling over her in an unnaturally uniform circle.

"Agh!" Philippa let out in frustration. She shot out a spell, striking one of the crows, making the other disperse. Geralt looked on with a raised eyebrow.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Stuff it Geralt!"

Sighing, Geralt walked up beside Philippa, and placed a comforting hand on the small of her back. When his hand made contact with her lower back, she jumped forward as if she had been burned. She looked at him, face screwed in a confused grimace, her features flush. She walked faster. Putting distance between her and Geralt once again. The Witcher had no idea what that was about, but knew at the moment strange things from her was to be expected, so he didn't press the issue.

They walked for another two hours of open road, before coming across a village. It was small, likely with no more than 20 or so inhabitants, but it had an inn and a general store.

"Let's stop." Geralt said.

"What? Why? It's barely evening." Philippa replied.

"Because, you've been fidgety, sweating, and flush for the last 2 hours." Geralt said a-matter-of-factly. "I told you, to tell me if you were feeling."

"I feel FINE."

"Pft, still going with that huh? Look, even if you're fine, it won't hurt to stop. There's a general store and an inn here. Even on foot, we'll be at our destination by tomorrow."

Philippa scowled, but didn't say anything. Geralt took this as her begrudging acceptance.

"Come on. We'll hitch Roach, and get a room." Geralt said.

"You get a room. I'm going for a walk." Philippa said a bit snippily. Geralt looked at her confused.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"You're not my keeper, Witcher."

Geralt frowned, but decided to make a tactical retreat. Maybe she needed to blow off some steam. Better she go do it productively, rather than aimed at him. He wasn't too worried for her safety; things seemed quiet around here, and he knew she could handle herself in a fight. He just hoped she didn't go and do something to bring attention to them. Last thing they needed was to get run out of another town.

"Just...be careful, alright. I'll be in the inn."

Philippa didn't answer him before turning and storming away.

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Philippa was going to go mad. Absolutely mad.

Her body wasn't her own at the moment. She was just a bundle of aching muscles, magic, and anxiety moving along. If the spike's of accidental magic weren't enough, Philippa was currently suffering from the...other symptoms of her pregnancy.

Philippa wasn't sure what an animal's heat cycle was like, but she was sure what she was feeling was something akin to that. Her body was hot, and she ached, especially between her legs. Her hormones were out of sorts, making her want to rut like an animal. It was uncomfortable; it was undignified. Philippa had always had a healthy libido - to her detriment depending on who was asked - but she had CONTROL over it. Right now, she felt like one big nerve ending. She walked around the outskirts of the village, trying to get a handle on her body. She was failing.

And naturally Geralt was unaware of all of this, or what his presence was doing to her.

The man was sex and masculinity incarnate. Aloof and mysterious, and a hell of a lover. She had been dreaming of them having sex when she'd accidently levitated him. She woke up before the good part. And when he touched her lower back trying to comfort her, it was as if someone shot a bolt of lighting through her body. She wanted to just jump him on the spot. But Philippa would be damned if she let her hormones control her. She was an intelligent, powerful sorceress, not some backroom nymphomaniac. She could power through this. She could-

__________________________________________________________________________

Geralt enjoyed the small windows in which he got to relax. With everything going on, Ciri, Philippa, A CHILD, these moments were to be savored. Geralt bought some supplies, and spent a bit of time in the tavern. The locals were nice enough, pleasant even. He'd have to remember this place if he ever came through the area again. After spending some time people watching and drinking in the tavern, he went upstairs to the room he rented for the night. The bed was comfortable enough as well.

Suddenly, the room door swung open forcefully. Geralt sat up, ready to fight until he saw it was only Philippa.

"Enjoy your walk?" He asked. She didn't answer him. In fact, Geralt noticed the state of her: She was breathing heavily, sweating, and her nostrils were flaring. She looked wild, feral even. "Uhm, You alright?" He inquired, genuinely concerned. Once again, she didn't answer him - verbally. She stepped forward, waving her hand and shutting the door magically behind her.

Geralt stood, about to ask her what was up with her, but she simply waved her hand again.

And the white haired Witcher found himself in nothing but his undergarments. She waves her hand again, casting a spell to silence the room.

"Where did my-" Gerlat began

"Roach." Philippa interrupted. She then started to tear at her close, mumbling angrily about how her cest had too many laces. Geralt watched in sheer confusion as the witch stripped bare in front of him manically; she was shaking.

"Philippa are-"

"Geralt, I swear to my magic if you ask me if I'm alright again, I'll hex everything besides your cock. Now I need you to shut up, and fucking RUIN me." Philippa practically begged. She took a step forward, and the brave, battle born Witcher actually found himself taking a step back. This all didn't make alot of sense to him. They were so close to their goal of Velen. They needed to focus on that. Philippa obviously had other ideas of what was important as she stalked toward Geralt. He could see the wetness dripping down her thighs, and she was so intense, her steps seemed to shake the room.

In fact, the room was shaking. The whole building was. Philippa's magic was crackling on her body, and the sheer energy she was exuding was causing the tavern to move. Not wanting to half to pay for MORE structural damage, Geralt mentally prepared himself to cast a quick Axii on Philippa to get her under control. That was until Philippa practically threw herself down onto her knees in front of him. With speed he didn't even know her to be capable of, she grabbed the waistband of his undergarments, and pulled them down his thighs. She didn't say a word before engulfing his half hard cock into her mouth, humming around him. She bobbed her head a few times, bringing him to hardness, before trying to push herself down. She pushed past the barrier of her throat, gagging slightly as his cock filled her esophagus.

Geralt was momentarily stunned. This beautiful Sorceress basically pounced on him, and began to throat his cock, but a part of this felt wrong. They had been intamite before, but she was out of it, and so was her magic. She was liable to bring down the whole building at…

Wait.

The tavern...it stopped shaking. Geralt looked down at Philippa, who was happily and vigorously blowing him. He needed to test something. He placed his hand in her hair, and pushed her off his cock. She didn't want to go, fighting him, but eventually he pushed her back, popping himself free from her mouth. Her tongue darted out, trying desperately in vain to taste him. As he held her out bay, he could hear the floorboards start to creak, and the building begin to rumble again.

"Philippa…" He said, grabbing her attention. She looked up at him, and even without eyes, he knew she looked desperate. "What do you need?"

A pained expression spread across her features. She was fighting, fighting against making herself completely vulnerable here. She was embarrassed, ashamed about all of this, but she couldn't fight it. The ache between her legs was too much.

"I want...I need you to fuck me." She breathed out shakily. "I don't care how. You can do whatever you please. You can slap me, spit on me, call me whatever you want...please, just give me some RELIEF."

Geralt stared down at her, and considered what he just heard. She sounded like she was in pain. Her body and magic were unstable. And he seemed to be the only thing that could soothe her. The tavern began to shake with earnest now, and Geralt made his decision. He moved both his hands into her hair, gripping it at the base of her twin braids. Then he pulled her forward back onto his cock; her mouth opened wide on instinct, taking him into the back of her throat. She let out a happy hum and moan, as she placed her hands on his thighs to brace herself. Geralt began to pump his hips, fucking himself in and out of the sorceress throat.

"HRUCCKK...GLACUK...GLRUCKK.." She gagged, as spit pooled in her mouth and dripped down her chin. Her body was feeling peace for the first time in two days. Peace as she got brutally face fucked by the Witcher. It didn't make sense, and it was shameful, but at that moment she'd listen to anything he'd tell her; do anything he'd asked. She wanted to please him. Her tongue skillfully lapped out at his balls every time she brought her down to the base of his cock. Philippa didn't particularly enjoy performing oral sex on men, she found it beneath her. But for some reason, he tasted like the sweetest treat she'd ever had.

Geralt pulled her down his cock and held her there, burying her face in his pubic hairs. Her throat tightened and flexed around his length, massaging it. She was getting high off the restriction of air, enjoying the light headedness it gave her. She was always thinking so much. It was nice to have no thoughts at all besides the task at hand. Eventually, he pulled her back, completely off his member. She was reluctant to let him go again, but released his cock from her mouth with a pop, breathing and gasping for air, drool and spit running down her chin to the valley of her breast, with a goofy smile on her face. Geralt rubbed his wet cock over Philippa's face, smearing it all over her pretty features. She just happily took it, as her face was covered in her own saliva, pre-cum and sweat. Suddenly Geralt pulled her up by her hair, making her stand. She got shakily to her feet, with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

"On the bed." Geralt said simply. Philippa couldn't obey fast enough, nearly tripping over her feet to get on the hay bed. Geralt took the moment to fully lower, and step out of his smallclothes, kicking them to the side. "How do you want it Philippa? Tell me what you need."

Philippa swallowed, and her face pinked. Even in all of this, she could still get embarrassed. Her body was burning. She wanted something intense. Something that would hopefully snap her out of this...this..situation. She turned to her front, and lifted her ass into the air. She pressed her face into the bed, and brought her hands back to her ass, slowly pulling her cheeks apart, revealing her puckered pink asshole.

"Here…" She mumbled into the mattress. "Here please.."

Well now this was certainly interesting.

Last woman to so openly ask to be buggered by him was Lytta Neyd all those years ago. Geralt walked to the bed, and placed himself behind the folded over witch. She wiggled her ass invitingly as Geralt loomed over her. Grabbing her firmly by the hips, he guided his cock between her cheeks, into her asshole. There was the natural resistance at first, but she was hot and bothered at the moment, that the muscled ring relaxed, and stretched as he pushed his cock into her. She groaned, both in pain, and pleasure. It had been a long time since she had done this, at least half a century, but it was having its intended effect. As he pressed more and more of his cock into her ass, she felt her cunt gush and spasm. The penetration alone was enough to send an orgasm rushing through her body. Everything was intensified ten-fold. Eventually, when his cock was buried halfway in her ass, he decided to drive the rest home, snapping his hips, and filling her completely.

"FUCCCKKKKK…" Philippa moaned out loudly. She felt so full, so incredibly full. So right, like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Geralt gave her a moment to adjust to his size and sensation, before he began to pump his hips. Slowly at first, earning low throaty moans from the Sorceress. This was heaven, and a hell: reduced to a moaning, whimpering mess all because her body decided to betray her and override her mind, but oh, did it feel so WONDERFUL.

Geralt pick up the pace, hips slamming against her ass, the sound filling the room. His heavy balls swung as he fucked her slapping against her cunt, adding another layer of depraved pleasure to the sorceress.

"Yesyesyessyes!" Philippa moaned out, each word being fucked out of her. She lost track of time as to how long Geralt fucked her ass. The whole world melted aways besides the pleasure. Truth was it had only been 20 minutes or so. Geralt felt the familiar pull in his balls, and knew he was going to cum. He reached out with one of his hands and grabbed both her braids, pulling them back like a reign. Philippa moaned wantonly with her tongue out as Geralt fucked her faster and harder.

He slammed his hips forward, and pulled her back, so that her back was flush against his chest. He forced her head upwards to look at him, and pressed a hard, sloppy kiss to her mouth as his balls contracted, and he emptied his load into her bowels. The sensation threw Philippa over the edge again, and her cunt spasmed and sprayed all over the bed. Geralt held her up for a while, just lazily running his tongue against Philippa's. Eventually, he broke the kiss and looked at her. Her face was still red, but it looked as if a weight had been lifted off of her.

"How...do you feel?" He asked, trying to catch his breath.

"More…" She rasped out. Geralt raised an eyebrow

"More?"

"More."

___________________________________________________________________________

And more he gave her. It was only early afternoon when they reached the village, and now the sun was well on its way to set. Geralt had fucked her every which way, over every square inch of the room. Missionary, doggy, standing, sitting, upside down. Philippa was insatiable. It was only after her 7th orgasm, and his 4th, that she finally seemed to come to her senses.

They laid together in the disheveled bed, her head laying on his chest in exhaustion. She'd definitely feel everything he did to her in a few hours, but at that moment, she couldn't be more content.

"So…" Geralt began.

"Geralt, we both know you're no good at pillow talk, so please, just let me rest." She said hoarsely, but sounding like herself,

"None of that. I think you owe me an explanation of what the fuck that was. Not that I'm complaining."

Philippa sighed, and sat up. Well tried to. Most she could do was prop herself up on her elbows.

"I….have a theory." She said cautiously.

"Well?"

"The nature of my pregnancy...it's like any normal one, hormones, mood swings, that sort of thing. But-"

"-Add your magic in, and it turns you into a ball of anger, horniness, and magic."

"Well, I wouldn't put it so CRASSLY, but in essence, yes."

"Hm...so that means this will happen again as things progress."

"It's more than likely."

"And if left unchecked, could cause serious damage."

"Yes, Geralt. We've established this."

A smile spread across the Witcher's face.

"And the only way to counteract it, is for me to fuck it out of you-" Geralt said through a grin. Philippa put a hand to her face and groaned.

"Geralt-"

"Seems to me like I'm saving what's left of the Northern Kingdoms by fucking you."

"Oh sod off." Philippa snapped. Geralt placed his hands between her legs, still sticky from their coupling. Philippa's breath hitched, and she shot him pouty frown.

"Well, maybe we should make sure you're back in your right mind. Can never be too safe." He said huskily. Philippa didn't answer him, but she did allow her legs to fall open as Geralt rolled on top of her.

_________________________________________________________________________

The next morning saw a Geralt and a VERY sore Philippa rise early. They walked down the stairs of the tavern and were met with a very surprised looking barkeep.

"Wait...were you two up there the whole time?" The barkeep asked, shocked to see them descending the stairs.

"Why wouldn't we have been?" Geralt asked.

"Didn't ya feel that shaking last night? It was an earthquake or something! I thought the whole building was gonna come down. Had to evacuate the buildin'" The barkeep explained. Philippa's face pinked a bit, and Geralt stifled a laugh.

"We're heavy sleepers." Geralt explained. The barkeep eyed them suspiciously, but asked no further questions. Geralt slapped 2 coins on the table for his hospitality - and in small part to go to get their room back in order- and he and Philippa walked out of the tavern, and rode out of the town.

Back to one horse, Geralt and Philippa rode together, her arms wrapped gently around his torso. They rode in comfortable silence, enjoying the sunny road, and the feel of each other.

But then, the road became muddier, and ragged almost like sludge. The green trees they had seen were becoming more bare, and sickly. Geralt noticed something. The birds, they got quieter, their chirps becoming fewer and farther between. The air changed too, heavier, and with a taste to it. A feeling of foreboding filled Philippa's stomach; one of anticipation, and dread. Geralt felt it too, as he did so many times before when he went into a conflict. Premonitions of war and pain. Even Roach seemed to be affected by it, his steps becoming more cautious, eyes darting constantly for predators.

It wasn't until they arrived at a large tree, the largest they had seen for miles by far, with the bodies of a dozen men hanging from it that it really hit them that they'd crossed a line.

This was Velen.