Act II — Post "The Battle of Kaer Morhen" & before the funeral

In the old forest outside the crumbling walls of Kaer Morhen, Geralt felled a great pine, the fourth of the day. The tree had creaked, cracked, and groaned before crashing to the ground. A chill lingered in the air, the remnants of the presence of the Wild Hunt. Flurries fluttered in the sky, dancing and tumbling in a delicate fall to the ground. It was quiet. No birds called, no insects buzzed. Only the rustling of brush and the rhythmic clapping of Lambert's axe echoed throughout the wood.

It had been Geralt's experience that an eerie calm always settled over battlefields. He liked to think of it as a restful sleep before a nightmare, as often the vengeful and angered ghosts of the fallen rose to haunt their place of death. This time, however, no spirit would linger.

Vesemir would rest in peace. Geralt stripped the branches from the trunk and gathered the pieces in a pile for kindling.

Soft voices disrupted the serene atmosphere, and with Geralt's sensitive, superior hearing, he heard them easily, though the speakers spoke with a normal conversational volume.

"And maybe, I don't want to be rational!" It was Ciri. "They followed me here. You nearly died. We lost the battle, and Vesemir is gone because of me!"

"That isn't altogether true," Yennefer replied, calmly. "We held our ground, and in the end, you managed to drive off the wraiths. That is not a loss."

"Not a loss?" Ciri scoffed, disgusted. "Of course you would say that. Vesemir is dead! That may not mean anything to you, but it does to me. Hmmf, I know it doesn't mean anything to you, because you don't care about something unless it affects you. How maternal of you. But I guess that never was your strong suit." That last statement tinged with sarcasm.

Silence.

Geralt swung the axe, leaving it embedded in the trunk, and he wiped his hands on his pants. At the continued silence, he turned from his task and peered down from the hilltop.

Yennefer stood at the side of the path that led from the walls of Kaer Morhen into the pine forest. Proud with chin high, Ciri stomped down path towards the glacial lake, and Yennefer watched stoically.

Minding the narrow path, Geralt descended the hill and stopped at Yennefer's side, watching Ciri's retreating form. "I think that went well."

Sighing with aggravation, Yennefer rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Geralt, for your unsolicited commentary."

Falling silent, the witcher observed his beloved sorceress instead, knowing that Ciri's careless words struck a blow far more painful and true than any attack launched by the wild hunt during the last battle. Her lips were pressed tightly together, no doubt to resist a wry retort. Her shoulders were pinched back, her spine as straight as could be. She showed no other physical reaction to Ciri's accusation. Of very little Geralt was certain in life. But one thing that he knew with great certainty was of Yennefer's unflinching, passionate, and ferocious maternal love for his Surprise Child.

"She knows it too," Yennefer replied to his thoughts, again proving that she poked through his mind whenever she pleased.

"Just give her time," Geralt said, unphased at the intrusion. On the contrary, he often welcomed it. "She's grieving. We all are."

"I know that," Yennefer said, turning towards Geralt, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Vesemir was a father to all of you in many ways. He was your cornerstone, and his loss will be felt heavily for years."

"Yeah," Geralt agreed, but he said nothing more. What else was there to say when Yennefer had already said it succinctly and perfectly?

"Are you alright?" Yennefer asked, concern for him etched on her features.

"Yeah," he answered. "When you walk the path, well, let's just say this kind of ending comes with the journey."

Yennefer nodded in understanding. "All paths eventually come to an end, don't they. Life is more about your chosen direction and deeds along the way than the ending."

Geralt regarded the magician with a clearly admiring expression. "Well actually, I've been thinking more of my ending lately, and I don't know if it involves the path anymore."

Intrigued, Yennefer replied, "Is that so? I'm a bit surprised. I didn't think you ever wanted to stray from it."

"I've been rethinking that stance," Geralt said and his eyes drifted. Yennefer peered back over her shoulder to follow his gaze.

Ciri stood a few paces away, her eyes averted as ashen hair fluttered in her face. Twice, she brushed the strands away, finally tucking them behind her ear. Her forehead glistened, a sign that she did not get far before charging back up the hill. "I'm sorry," she admitted. Her head ducked, fists clenched and flexed, and she closed her eyes, whispering, "It hurts."

Yennefer's eyes widened, and she stepped away from Geralt. With an outstretched hand, the magician tenderly caressed Ciri's hair, tucking more strands behind the ear. "It always does." Yennefer startled when Ciri unexpectedly hugged her teacher, mother, and mentor, but the surprise lasted only seconds before the sorceress returned the embrace.

"I know that you care," Ciri said. "I know you do, Mother."

"You still have your claws, my little ugly one," Yennefer murmured. I never could file them down."

Ciri choked on her laugh, tightening her embrace. "You did clip them. They just regrow. Quite quickly, in fact. And I hate when you call me that." Her lip tweaked at the corner in the hint of a smile.

"Mmm, I know."

Sniffing, Ciri pulled back. She looked into Yennefer's bright, violet eyes — eyes that as a child she initially thought of as cold, cruel, a fathomless well of indifference, and even malice. Oh, how wrong she was. Perhaps at one time, she feared and hated those eyes, but no longer. "Truly, though. I am sorry. I was wrong, what I said."

Yennefer's head tilted slightly to the side. "Do you remember what I told you about words spoken in anger?"

Ciri's brow furrowed in thought as she tried to recollect the time so long ago in Ellander with the sorceress. It was some of the most trying, and yet the most wonderful time of her life. Yennefer had taught her so much then, and it was so long ago. Absently, Ciri flexed her fingers, as if compelled by muscle memory to work the positions the sorceress relentlessly had demanded.

Finally, Ciri replied. "Yes. You warned me about the danger of strong emotion on both magic and the tongue." Her eyes closed as she quoted, recalling that rainy day in their room. "A sorceress never succumbs to emotion. To surrender to emotion is to surrender your control."

Geralt nodded in agreement, and teased. "And if there's one thing Yen doesn't like to surrender, it's control."

"Geralt, please," Yen snapped. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers along Ciri's hair again. "Come, walk with me." Without waiting for a reply, the sorceress strode down the narrow and winding path from Kaer Morhen to the glacial lake in the valley.

Ciri turned to follow, pausing when Geralt made no move. "Are you coming?"

He shrugged, offering a smirk. "I don't think I was invited."

Feeding on Geralt's calm amusement, Ciri smiled as well. "I guess not. Maybe, come and rescue me in a little while."

Silently, Geralt nodded and turned from the young witcheress to climb the hill again and continue his task of preparing the funeral pyre.

**2 hours later**

Geralt approached the small fishing hut at the edge of the glacial lake, his senses reaching out to try and find Ciri and Yennefer. With the pyre prepared, he had left Eskell and Triss to finish the preparations to Vesemir's body. As he walked the familiar path from the castle to the lake, Geralt recalled the many winters he and Vesemir had stayed in Kaer Morhen, and the many times they carved holes in the ice to fish, or to creep through the brush to hunt rabbit.

Those winter months were always long, and by the time the ice began to thaw, any witcher within the keep was more than ready to return to the path. What would happen now to Kaer Morhen without Vesemir?

Likely, it would fall to ruin. Perhaps Lambert or Eskell would return, but Geralt had no intention of leaving Yennefer or Ciri. Only if they wished to spend the winter sequestered away in the keep would Geralt ever walk the halls of the keep again. And he had a feeling that neither woman would choose that option.

He found Yennefer sitting under a silver birch not far from a rotted fishing dock, her legs outstretched as she leaned back casually against the trunk. The wind teased her curls, the strands fluttering in its gusts. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed. Ciri lounged at the sorceress's side, perpendicular to her mentor, and she pillowed her head on Yennefer's thigh.

Neither woman spoke. Ciri stared up at the sky, her brow furrowed as she peered through the foliage of the old tree. Yennefer rested in absolute calmness, her fingers absently combing through Ciri's hair. Geralt hesitated to go any closer, feeling like an intruder upon a scene of serenity. Ciri did not look like she needed nor wanted to be rescued.

Soon, Ciri grew restless and shook her head. "Won't you say anything?"

"And what do you think I should say?" Yennefer asked, quite simply. Her tone gave nothing away as to her thoughts, whether angry, indifferent, or simply curious.

"I don't know," Ciri huffed. "Yell. Scold me. Say something!"

Yennefer looked down, hooking a finger under Ciri's chin to force their gazes to meet. "You want me to scold you to compound your guilt. So you can fester in this self blame. I will do no such thing. It is counterproductive. Never dwell on the past …" she paused, a perfectly shaped brow arching as if to prompt a response.

"Because the decision cannot be changed," Ciri automatically recited. "I know. I remember." She snorted and grumbled. "But you dwelt on your past with Geralt all the time, and …"

Yennefer's piercing eyes held Ciri's, challenging the young, ashen-haired girl to dare continue.

Unafraid, Ciri pressed. "You were angry with him forever. It's hypocritical to tell me not to dwell on the past."

"The situations are not the same, and you know the difference, lest my expectations as to your powers of deduction were woefully misplaced," the magician said. "So you try to wound me, hoping to force a scathing response. It will not work. What we are talking about here is self defeatism, self pity, and grief. Of those three, only one you should ever feel, if you are to feel it at all. I doubt your intelligence has waned, so I'm certain you know of which one I speak."

Ciri looked away.

Yennefer turned her head slightly, her gaze colliding with Geralt's, and the witcher wondered if she knew of his presence the entire time. She glanced down to a spot beside her; it was the only invitation she would give.

Geralt accepted.

Yennefer leaned back again, her eyes closing as she resumed her position of tranquil relaxation. She began stroking Ciri's hair again. "I suppose that I am the last person to scold you for making a dangerous and drastic decision to accomplish your goal."

Ciri smiled at that. It was, after all, the closest she could expect to acceptance or praise from Yennefer. "When I felt your magic again, I couldn't stay away. I had to find you. I didn't care how dangerous it was."

"I have always felt the same concerning you," Yennefer admitted.

Sitting beside the sorceress on the opposite side of Ciri, Geralt sighed and leaned back against the tree, knees bent. His forearms rested on his knees, his fingers brushing his shins.

Ciri sat up, twisting at the waist to look directly at the sorceress. "Well, I guess you shouldn't be surprised then that I searched for you so fervently. After all, as the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined."

Amusement flickered in Yennefer's gaze. "Indeed. Imagine my relief that it seems now you can finally see the wood for the trees. That was not always so."

Ciri nodded. "That's true. As a child, sometimes things can be hard to understand. So I'm not surprised at all that I see clearer now. In the end, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"A tree is known by its fruit," Geralt stated with a shrug and smiled proudly at his adoptive daughter. "Give credit where it's due."

Ciri smiled broadly at the praise.

"This all may be so," Yennefer said, "But that fact remains that we are not yet out of the woods. The wild hunt will return, and we must be ready. I highly doubt they would be willing to accept an olive branch especially after this last encounter. We should not let the grass grow under our feet."

Geralt grumbled. "Hrmf, I suppose she won."

"She always wins," Ciri quipped with feigned defeatism. Quiet a long moment, she inspected her adoptive parents and mentors. "Were you hurt terribly? When your shield fell and you felt the frost?"

"I don't think pain is how I would describe it," Geralt rumbled.

"It was my fault," Yennefer said. "I let the shield drop."

Geralt grunted, shaking his head. "You didn't let it drop. I saw you collapse. The power you needed to use to hold it as long as you did must have been ..."

Yennefer sneered. "It doesn't matter. I was tasked with holding the shield against the frost, and I failed."

Ciri lunged at the sorceress, embracing her tightly. "It's not your fault. It's me they're after."

Yennefer sighed, shaking her head. "No, Ciri, it is mine, and I will not fail again. They cannot have you. We'll make sure of it."

Geralt nodded his agreement. He waited while the two embraced, comforted by each other. Only when the young witcheress pulled back did he ask, "Ciri, why Avallac'h? After everything … you trusted him?"

Yennefer glared at the witcher beside her. It was a clear, silent reprimand, a rebuke for the question, but Geralt didn't care. In fact, he didn't understand why the sorceress would disapprove. Surely, she did not think Avallac'h had Ciri's best interests at heart.

Ciri shrugged casually, plucking the dead pine needles from the fur lining of Yennefer's boot. "Where else was I to go? You were both gone. And if I didn't abandon magic, maybe you wouldn't have been gone. Maybe I could have stopped ..." She snarled the last part, her jaw tense as she trailed off. "But the dreams returned. The chaos. It was so much. So where do you think I should have gone, instead, if not Avallac'h? To Philippa Eilhart? Margarita? Triss? I suppose I could have sought out Francessca or Ida, but why should I trust the Lodge any more than the elves? I didn't have a good option."

"Considering what has happened to the Lodge, your choice was the better of the two," Yennefer stated.

Ciri nodded, again seemingly pleased by Yennefer's approval. After a comfortable silence, she sighed. "I'm ready." She hopped to her feet. "Let's go."