Chapter 4: A Few Items Given

Opening her eyes slowly, Ciri could tell she was in the bed at the Inn. The room was lit only by the dying fire in the fireplace, casting a low light upon the room. Her body felt stiff and sore, and she wondered for a few seconds what had happened, before the memories came flooding back. The Cemetaur, the fighting, all the dead bodies, Geralt getting tossed aside, Jaskier as well… the thing turning to stare at her as it prepared to eat her. The utter terror she had felt when her eyes locked with it's pure red orbs.

She also remembered Geralt killing the horrible creature, before everything went dark. Sitting up slowly, she looked around and was relieved to see the Witcher asleep, leaning against the wall by the fireplace. Relaxing at seeing him alright, she took the time to analyze the man, as he sat sleeping.

The orange glow cast dancing light on his skin, casting shadows and reflecting off his almost-white hair. His hair was surprisingly well kept, clearly taken care of and pulled back away from his face. His eyelashes were long, and brushed his cheeks now that his eyes were closed. She knew that behind those lids were his golden eyes, the color both terrifying and beautiful. His outer layer was off, leaving him in a shorter sleeved shirt, showing off the thick, corded muscle that ran along his arms, proof that he was a deadly opponent. Underneath his right hand, lay his sword, unsheathed and ready as if he would have to fight the moment he awoke. Sadness rang with that thought; she couldn't imagine living a life where you had to be prepared to fight for your life at every moment. Though, that's where she was now… How truly lucky she was to have this man in her life.

His eyes suddenly flew open, causing her to jump as they snapped to look at her. In an instant, he was standing. "Princess, how are you feeling?" his rough tone was even more gravelly from sleep.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, she struggled. How was she feeling? Physically she was fine, if not a little stiff and sore from travel. Mentally though, she'd been through a lot, though she knew that was not what he was asking about. "I'm fine," she replied, eyes averting from his gold ones. He had witnessed her power, perhaps he would think her a monster too, like the ones he hunted. "How are you? Is Jaskier…?" Her voice trailed off. She truly hoped the Bard was alright.

"Dandelion is too stubborn to die," Geralt answered. "I have been cursed to have him with me for eternity it seems."

Ciri almost smirked at that. She could tell he truly cared for the Bard, but tried to appear tough, as if he needed no one. They were so comfortable with one another, about the closest best friends could be when one was a Witcher with no emotions. "You are uninjured?" she asked again.

"Yes," he answered. After a moment, he turned his head slightly. "You inherited your powers from your mother. Yennefer should be able to help you with them."

"You are alright knowing I have powers?" she asked nervously. "You don't think me a monster, for having magic? I've killed people, almost unintentionally and unknowingly, but in such a brutal way." She shuddered as she remembered the boys who had all lain dead before her when she'd woken up the following morning.

Geralt looked at her squarely. "Did they deserve to die?" was all he asked.

Ciri looked at her hands, which were clasped together tightly in her lap. "I… I don't know. They were pushing me around, I didn't know what they were going to do. There was four of them, and it was dark. I just got so scared…"

Geralt's expression darkened, imagining what might have been in the minds of those men. "Then they deserved the fate they received. You did nothing wrong, and are no monster Cirilla."

Her shoulders relaxed. So he accepted her for the magic she had. It was almost… a relief.

"I had the Bard pick up a few things for you," Geralt said after a few silent moments, indicating to the bundle by her side. He reached down to pick it up, and placed it in her lap. Looking down at the bundle, she was shocked to see two dresses, both pretty and suitable for travel. One was a deep red, and the other a dark blue. A new black cloak was also there, to replace hers which was obviously one that belonged to a royal. There was also a hairbrush, a few salves and bandages, a new saddle bag, her own water skin, and a new pair of leather gloves. Sitting on the top of it all, was a sheathed dagger. Fingers shaking, she grabbed the hilt and pulled the blade out, eyes wide at the beautiful, silver weapon. "Hopefully you will never need to use it, but I will be more comfortable knowing you have a blade."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she clenched the bundle tightly. It was the most kindness she'd seen in a long time. "Thank you," her voice cracked slightly, as she looked up at him sincerely.

The Witcher jolted at the look of sincerity and gratitude in her pale blue orbs. Certainly the few items were nothing compared to what she had as a Princess. Yet, here she was, obviously overcome over the things she'd been given. Grunting in response, he shrugged as he reached down and grabbed his sword and gear. "I will wait outside the door. Get changed and grab all of your things, we're moving on today."

As Geralt stepped out of the room, Ciri looked down again at the things in her hands. She was almost guilty. He had spent probably all that he'd earned on these things for her, yet she could do nothing for him in return. Sighing, she changed into the blue dress, and strapped the black cloak on. Looking down at her cloak from her grandmother, her heart cracked when she realized what she had to do with it. She couldn't risk being seen with it, in case it could tie her back to being the crowned Princess of Cinatra. Clenching the blue cloak tightly in her fingers, she stared at it for a long moment before tossing it in the fire, a few tears slipping down her cheeks as she watched the last thing from her grandmother go up in flames.

After a few moments, she numbly moved back to the bed and packed up her items into the saddle bag. She brushed through her hair for a minute, getting rid of some of the knots, knowing that later she would have to spend more time combing through it. Once everything was packed, she pulled her hood up and opened the door. The Witcher and the Bard stood outside waiting for her.

"Morning Cirilla," the Bard smiled.

"Good morning," she responded quietly, remembering how the man had tried to protect her from the terrible monster. Watching him move as they headed down the stairs, she could tell he was sore from the bashing he'd taken.

They filled their water skins, and ate a simple breakfast before heading out to the front of the Inn, where their three horses stood tied, and tacked and ready to go. As she moved over to her mare, she went to place the saddle bag behind her saddle, only to have Geralt's hands gently take the bag from her and tie it on for her. "Thank you," she murmured, accepting his help getting up onto the mare.

He never answered, as he moved over and quickly swung up onto Roach. Once all settled onto their horses, they set out on the road and away from the Stronghold. Ciri wondered if they kept walking, would truly just stumble upon Yennefer? Perhaps they could ask people along the road, if they knew where the powerful mage was. Although, she supposed that could be dangerous, in case people questioned why the Witcher was travelling with a child. She no longer knew who the enemies were… No one could be trusted outside of this group she had decided, except maybe Yennefer.