Jareth had successfully undone his brother's magic and the monstrous beings that had been created with it. Ground forces in Temeria and Redania pushed back against Radovid, ridding themselves of the retched witch hunters. It was their turn to run and hide. They were hunted down and hung on site. If there was no branch high enough, they were bent over the nearest stump and beheaded. Some who had been blackmailed into service, recanted their role in the hunters and aided the people who sought their peace and freedom. The pieces of people's lives were slowly falling into place. However, there were a few instances that required a little extra special attention.

Redania

The Redanian hall was bright and full of light. Ironic since what was about to happen was indeed very dark. The three witchers strode up the carpet only to be met halfway by Adda. Geralt stopped and regarded her solemn form but said nothing. Gone was the haughty spoiled princess of old. Before him stood a woman, tormented and sad.

"I suppose you have come for my husband." She said, getting directly to the point.

"We have." Geralt answered. Adda hugged herself, slowly running her fine slim hands over her upper arms. The long white sleeves of her dress slid down her arms and Geralt noticed the dark marks around her wrists. All Foltest had ever wanted from him was to protect his daughter then he himself gave her to a madman.

"What has he done to you?" He asked, his voice low.

"Nothing. And everything." She held her hands up for them to view. "This was payment for a request. I asked for one of the girls held in the dungeons. There was something that just bade me to help her. It was her eyes, I think, so very blue…" Adda's voice trailed away softly, her gaze distant. She snapped out of her reverie and fixed Geralt with a hard stare. "He granted my request, he could not say no when so many dignitaries were there, but I paid for it that night. Oh, I paid. It has taken months for my writs to heal. I assure you it was much worse."

"Adda…"

"Don't pity me Geralt. I could not bear it. Now if you are here to deal with my husband, I suggest you get ready. I hear the guard coming. Radovid will not be far behind." She turned away from them and walked slowly toward the open door of a side room. The King's guard came storming in from the opposite side, Radovid directly behind them.

"Our quarrel is not with you," Geralt said to the guards as they took their position in front of their king. "Any who wish to live may leave now. Go protect your queen." The captain of the guards sheathed his sword promptly and stepped away. The men under his command paused briefly but followed suit and trailed their captain toward the white queen who waited in the far doorway.

"Traitors! I am your King!" Radovid shrieked. The Captain returned and spat upon the ground before him.

"You are no king," and he walked away. Radovid faced the witchers, trying his best to look down his royal nose at them even though they were all taller than him.

"So, Kingslayer, have you come to kill me, a King?" The three witchers pulled their swords and stood quietly for a moment.

"We are witchers," Lambert said.

"And we don't kill kings," Eskel added.

"We kill monsters," Geralt finished as he raised his sword.

Povis Countryside

The sun of early fall still shone brightly down on the royal convoy that made its way through the hills of Povis. It was a small group consisting of five men and one young woman. Four of the men were guards in His Majesty's Royal Guard but the fifth was new. He was a hard man of straight bearing used to skulking in dark allies and hiding in caves. But not now. He once again donned the colors of a King in the uniform of a high ranking military man. His life had been restored to him. Roche turned on his horse to the young woman behind him. She was looking radiant in the sunlight, happy to be free. Her chin length blonde hair blew in the gentle wind. She was a bit gaunt, but Anne de Grey, somehow, had survived. No one had been more surprised than he when Geralt returned from Redania with her. And he, Vernon Roche, the new head of Kovir's intelligence, had been tasked with returning her to her father.

Edmund de Grey had just dismounted his horse after riding over the estate and handed off the reins to the stable boy when the group of soldiers rounded the bend in the road bearing the King's standard. What could they possibly want? Edmund thought he had finally left war behind him since the fall of Redania's mad king. The news of Radovid's valiant death in battle spread like fire. But Edmund knew better.

He had been given the management of a small and unprofitable estate with a handful of tenant farmers. He had turned it profitable for the first time in its existence. He had even met a lovely widow whose company he enjoyed. His life was starting to become normal again. As normal as possible anyway, and now soldiers were coming to his house.

Edmund waited at the foot of the stone steps, watching with an anxious anticipation. The large horses tromped their way up to the house and came to a stop with a chorus of snorts. Edmund immediately recognized Roche and he drew himself up. He should be grateful to one of the men instrumental in freeing Redania, but he just didn't like him.

"What is it, Roche?" Edmund said more harshly than he meant. Roche didn't say a word as he slid from the back of his horse and came to face Edmund.

"I have come to return something to you."

"Just what have I lost, besides everything?" Roche again said nothing but held his hand out and drawing forth a frail girl. Edmund looked at her then looked again. His breathing became rapid as he extended shaking hands out to cup the face of his long lost daughter. The daughter he thought he had lost for good. His vision blurred as long forgotten tears poured down his face.

"Anne. My dear, Anne…" Edmund pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly for fear she might slip away. Her thin arms encircled his neck. He pulled back just enough to look down into her face.

"See, Papa, I told you everything would be alright." She smiled brightly up at him. Edmund merely nodded, too overcome to speak and sank to the ground holding his precious child. Roche remounted and turned the group and left father and daughter to their reunion. As they rode down the path, a shriek emanated from behind them. Roche turned in his saddle and watched as Isabel, the girl who fled with Edmund, grabbed up her skirts and ran down the steps to throw her arms around her dearest friend. Roche smiled, a rare thing. He turned back to the trail ahead. Time to go home. Ves would be coming in from Temeria and he wanted to be there when she first stepped on Kovir's shores.

Docks at Pont Vanis

Ves stepped off the ship and looked up and down the boards. It was busy. Trade routes had been quickly restored and the relations between the countries had slowly begun to normalize. She had found herself at a loss when she received a letter from Roche, asking her to come to Kovir. Come to Kovir. What was he thinking? What would she do there? Could things ever be the same as they once were? But here she was because…why? Because she missed him.

She stood in the waning warmth of the sun at the docks of Pont Vanis. A group of soldiers passed by, some giving her a good look over. When they cleared the path that's when she saw him. He was in a very fine uniform. Apparently he held a rather prestigious position. His gaze finally landed on her and he took quick steps in her direction. Ves found her pulse quicken at his approach. Wait, what? This was Vernon Roche.

"Really Ves, could you cover up a little?" Oh yeah, this was Vernon Roche.

"You haven't seen me in over a year and that's all you can say?" She asked with a laugh. Roche raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. Ves felt overcome with something a bit ridiculous. Oh, what the hell…

She reached up and grabbed his fancy collar and yanked him down to her and kissed him. Roche stood unmoving for a moment before the kiss began to stir something in him. It had been some time since he had kissed a woman. And then this wasn't just any woman. This was Ves. He closed his eyes and gripped her shoulders leaving space between them as he surrendered to her expert care. Best damn soldier indeed. Ves broke off and released him.

"Ves…" Roche said, a little breathless and more than a little surprised.

"I'm a soldier, Roche. I don't know anything else. But I am also a woman."

"I noticed."

"Did you?" she asked a bit sarcastically. He reached over and pulled the ties on her shirt.

"Yeah. I asked you here for a reason." And he had. The longer she was gone, the more he realized it wasn't just her presence as a great soldier that he missed. They were partners and friends. And now…

"I didn't exactly come alone."

"Y-you…didn't?" Roche stammered. Ves looked over her shoulder to a little girl of about seven sitting on a crate.

"Thaler and I rescued her from a bunch of drunk witch hunters before they killed her. Or worse. Her family had been murdered and she had nowhere to go…so I kept her with me." An orphan. That struck a chord with Roche and he nodded approvingly.

"I'm not sure what I'll do now that there are no more Blue Stripes, Roche, but I'll find something…"

"Ves."

"Yes?"

"Charles could always use someone to train our recruits. You're the best damn sharpshooter I've ever seen and could teach these boys a thing or two."

"That sounds great."

"And Ves…"

"What?"

"It's Vernon." Ves laid a hand over the medals pinned to his chest.

"I know."

Temeria – Palace in Vizima

Triss and Keira stood in the royal hall at the castle of Temeria discussing the guardianship of Anais and the terms of Natalis acting as regent for the girl until she came of age. Lambert leaned back against the wall staying pointedly away from such conversations. Politics bored him. They could also get you into serious trouble. Geralt was proof enough of that. No, instead he just looked around, taking it all in. The palace seemed to have fared reasonably well through all the turmoil. Only a few broken panes of glass and a great deal of dirt.

In front of the royal throne a girl of perhaps eleven or twelve sat on the steps hugging her knees, her face buried in her arms, looking for all the world as if she wished to disappear from it. Lambert watched her with interest; something he would have never done before. Since Brinna first placed that tiny baby girl in his arms, he had changed. No, he didn't suddenly want children of his own. He would be perfectly happy playing the role of "Uncle Lambert". But something had changed. It wasn't something he could put his finger on. He moved from his post against the wall and went to where the girl sat. She turned her head and watched him as he approached. Her looks were simple yet not unattractive. She would grow into a lovely woman one day. He sat down on the same step as she and leaned back, rubbing his hands over the carpet.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," her soft voice replied, muted with despair.

"I'm Lambert.

"Anais." She turned her face back into her arms and became silent again. Lambert just sat with her, not pushing. Anais eventually turned her head back to him, watching curiously.

"You're a witcher."

"I am."

"He didn't do it, you know. Kill my father. I saw."

"I know." Lambert knew she spoke of Foltest's death and Geralt's assumed guilt. He didn't know that the girl had been witness to the gruesome event. They lapsed back into silence, watching the animated discussion between General John Natalis, Triss and Keira.

"I'm supposed to be Queen of Temeria." She said with grimness. "I don't think I want to be."

"Then you'll be a good one." Lambert replied. Anais looked at him quizzically. "In my experience those that want to rule are the last ones that should."

"I just wish Boussey were still alive and things were like they used to be. Before." Lambert turned a gentle gaze upon her. The eyes that looked back at him were full of tears. "I'm afraid." She whispered. Lambert leaned forward crossing his arms over his knees.

"Someone very important to me told me something once that changed my life."

"What was it?" Anais sniffled a bit even as hope crept into her voice.

"Learn to love the life you have and not mourn one lost to you. You have to make the best out of what your life is today, right now, and leave what cannot be undone behind." He watched as she sat up a bit straighter.

"So, what are you doing here?" Anais said as she wiped her eyes dry.

"Just following my sorceress."

"Your sorceress? Does that make you her witcher?"

"I guess it does." Lambert chuckled as he glanced over at Keira. Lambert must have had such a besotted look on his face that even she could see it. Anais couldn't help herself and she laughed.

General Natalis turned abruptly at the odd sound of Anais' laughter. Roche had brought her to him in an act of desperation and he had taken her into his home. His wife had doted on her, trying to bring the shy quiet girl out of her shell. Slowly, she began to smile but never laughed. She had always been a sad child. Seeing her with a full grin and hearing the joyous laughter as she interacted with the witcher gave him an idea.

"Alright, Ms. Merigold," He said interrupting her speech. "I'll remain as Regent." Triss blinked.

"You will?" she replied stunned. He had certainly put up a fuss about not living the court life.

"There is a condition, of course."

"Of course, there is." She sighed.

"It has been tradition for some time that monarchs have an advisor from the circle of mages, more recently a sorceress."

"Yes…" Triss and Keira exchanged a nervous glance. "Keira would make an excellent advisor. She was at court with King Foltest after all…" Natalis waved his hand at her.

"I will stay as Regent and accept Ms. Metz as adviser if," he turned and pointed at Lambert," if he stays as well. I do believe the two of you have been traveling together for some time. It shouldn't be such a hardship on either of you." They watched Lambert talk with an animated Anais, oblivious that he was their topic of discussion. The pair had moved closer together and Lambert laughed at something she said.

"I don't see that there will be a problem but I cannot speak for him. Witchers don't take well to being ordered about."

"I hope he will agree." General Natalis said solemnly. "I have never seen that child laugh before." Keira looked back at them with some surprise and made her way over to them. Lambert looked up and rose to meet her. Anais giggled from the step when Keira stopped in front of him.

"Well?" he asked.

"He's agreed to stay and accept me as advisor," Anais clapped eagerly, "on one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you stay, too." Keira looked up at him. He was a Witcher, travelling was a part of who he was. Could she ask him to stay put? Lambert took her hand and entwined their fingers together.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then I'll stay."

"You're alright with this?"

"Did you really think I had any other plans, Keira?"

"No, but you've never lived at court before…"

"Doesn't matter. I'd follow you anywhere." He tipped her head up and kissed her, much to the glee of the young girl at his feet.