With a momentary hesitation, Geralt stepped in, anyway, and found himself in the rear of a cheering crowd. The race had begun, he saw Ciri's back. She careened sideways in her saddle as she rode. Like… she was drunk? He wouldn't believe it impossible - Skelligans didn't favor sober races.
Once he crossed over, Yennefer waited a beat to release the breath she'd been holding and to let go of her anger. She forced a smile onto her lips, one that turned genuine once she reached the other side and the horn of the racing starting sounded in her ears. She was just in time to see Ciri take off, feeling a sense of pride at how comfortable on the steed the girl was although she was listing slightly, kicking off into the lead with all the grace of a drunken elf. She'd be all right, though, Yennefer knew that much and no one else seemed to be forging any better, either.
"Are you going to join?"
Geralt turned to the sound of her voice as she came to stand by him, and gifted her with a surprised look. "Not with my current side problem. Besides, it's fair when they're of the same age."
"Smart."
He'd never really minded doing that kind of thing, though. Hurt or drunk. She guessed the issue was that he was still too sober. She knew she was. And she needed to keep it up.
"How'd you convince Dandelion to join you?"
"He wanted to come and insisted we did so immediately. I intended to be here in another couple of days."
"You hadn't told me that."
And she supposed he hadn't even remembered that. Was it that she'd disappeared from his memory before he'd left or after when she was no longer in his sight?
"You remember saying goodbye to Ciri?"
He cast another look at her, frowning. "I do, very well."
"Care to share?" He would have, had he been inclined to, but she guessed, without their history, she literally had to force the words and describers from his mouth. "Was I anywhere in that picture?"
He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. "No. I didn't know you were around. And someone like you present at a party - everybody is aware. So it's strange, unless you arrived after I left."
"I arrived with you."
She knew it didn't make any sense to him and that she was pushing in parts, but it was the truth.
"We've been together for months."
His eyes widened, the pupils dilated momentarily. "Months? I… I don't know what to say to that, ehm… Yennefer, is it?"
"Yen," she corrected.
Ciri was no longer in sight but the mage could feel her moving along the road.
"That's what you call me. Only you."
Sometimes Ciri, but for the most part, where the nickname was concerned, he was the one and only person that dared.
"Yen," he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue as he looked back to the track, trying to see if their round was coming to the end. Ciri was competing with someone else for the win, someone third close on their tails.
He didn't say her name or it's shortening as it was revered; he said it as if he were trying to get acquainted with a foreign taste. She didn't like it, didn't like how it had changed.
Ciri had no knowledge of who was ahead of her and who lagged behind. She simply rode, trying to follow the feeble markers so she wouldn't accidentally end up in someone's back garden.
The person before her toppled off their horse and landed face-first in mud, making her cackle with victorious glee until she realized she'd almost veered off course and got smacked in the face with a twig. That woke her up for the next few seconds.
She rode hard and fast, delighted to, for once, be racing without imminent danger on her tail. She'd spent so long fleeing from the Wild Hunt she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have silly, stupid fun.
The rest of the race passed relatively peacefully, literally going by in a blur. Someone was coming up on her side but she didn't know who, didn't turn it find out, her sights set on that finishing line.
She crossed it to cheers of excitement from the crowd that had gathered, though she wasn't truthfully sure if she had come first or last. Her attention had been caught by Geralt and Yennefer on the sidelines.
She urged her horse in their direction, swiped a leg over the mount's back, and clumsily slid down in front of them, arms reaching for them both.
"Did you see me?" she asked, grinning in delight. "I was so fast!"
Yennefer plastered a smile on her face when the race came to an end and Ciri shuffled up to them, happy and proud of herself. Yennefer was proud of her, too.
"Surely did. You were the fastest out there! Does that mean you'll be freeing them of some coin?"
"If that race was for no prize, it's not up to Skelligan standards," the Witcher commented.
"Hell to the no," Zoltan said, pushing through the crowd to give Ciri a hearty hug of his own. "Ye did so good, lassy. So good. They'll have to give ye all the horses if there's no set prize."
Ciri returned Zoltan's embrace happily, laughing at his little outburst. "We didn't agree on a prize."
At least she hadn't. Whether or not Cerys and her brother had a bet of their own was a different story.
"Besides," she said, straightening, "what would I do with a half a dozen horses?"
She'd long learned there was no use in keeping personal belongings while hunted.
Ciri eyed Geralt and Yennefer. Neither looked particularly happy, but her drunken brain didn't much register that. "So… how are things?"
"Good," Yennefer lied for the sake of letting her be trouble-free for a while longer.
Geralt hadn't displayed any negative effects aside from the obvious and that was more Yennefer's problem than it was a detriment to anyone else, and more importantly Ciri.
That Yennefer could see thus far.
On instinct, she slid her arms around Ciri as if to congratulate her and stole a few more subtle seconds of comfort for herself. "Just fortunate you didn't end up in the mud like Ragnar."
He appeared from the crude track without his horse, nose bleeding, mud thickly encrusted on his face, the remaining multitude of Craite offspring having moved to circle in on him.
Yennefer (or Yen) picked the answer before Geralt could, and he let it be. In any case, he had no idea anything was different than any time before.
"Shame about the prize," Zoltan lamented. "But what we still have left is Gwent and the mead. Geralt, Ciri, let's go ruffle Dandelion's feathers before he gets too bored among all the lasses."
"Sounds like a solid plan," the Witcher said, following the dwarf toward the castle.
One of the women who had tended to Dandelion before the race was already crying, while one of the others had taken a seat on the troubadour's lap and was cooing in his ear.
Geralt and Zoltan headed his way to break up the "party". Ciri took Yennefer's hand in hers and pulled her along. She wasn't going to let the sorceress slink away so easily. Ciri wanted them all with her.
After drawing back and watching the small crowd head off, Yennefer had intended to break away, to decide what she was going to do with this new revelation and think it over.
Only Ciri didn't seem to want to give her the gap.
Yennefer smiled, letting Ciri drag her along behind them, finding herself willing to do so despite how uncomfortable this thing might have been at another time.
"He's been here only a few minutes and it looks like he's already broken his first heart."
Ciri hummed with agreement. "Dandelion has a way with the ladies, that's for sure."
"And they with him," Yennefer added conversationally.
Delaying the inevitable chat. Yennefer hadn't expected they'd talk about it while Ciri was intoxicated, and it also wasn't fair to do so when it wasn't at any risk to her and the sorceress was trying to figure it out internally.
Ciri eyed Geralt's back as they walked, looking him over for a limp or something of the like. "How are his injuries? Did he not take a potion?"
"Survivable. I applied a decent poultice. He'll be fine by morning. Are you enjoying yourself?"
"A little," Ciri admitted, even though she felt guilty about doing so considering her own situation. "Avallac'h is… nice, but he's not very festive. Not a big fan of fun." Which made sense considering being hunted by ancient evil elves was no laughing matter. "I can't remember the last time I truly relaxed."
"Maybe he needs help getting into the festive mood?" It's not as if Ciri couldn't be persuasive when she wanted to be, Yennefer thought. "I could offer him a little persuasion."
Anything to further add to her happiness.
"I think a happy Avallac'h might be a careless Avallac'h. He may be cagey and somewhat dull but he's managed to keep me alive when I wasn't able to myself."
"Fair enough." Yennefer could respect that he'd done that and the price he'd paid for it. She didn't really get on with the elf, but she also didn't hate him, how could she after everything he'd done for Ciri? She was forever indebted.
Not-so-subtly Ciri steered the conversation back to the most important topic – Geralt. "Has anything changed since last night?"
"A lot. I don't want you to worry about that tonight, but be assured I'm not going anywhere."
How could Ciri not worry when it was Geralt and Yennefer's happiness on the line? "What has changed? Did you… make up?" That was perhaps not the right word, but she wasn't sure how else to phrase herself.
"Nowhere close to that."
But unlike when the world had been crashing and burning the night before, it was different now, as if Yennefer could relax in the knowledge that the only reason he didn't love her was because he didn't know her.
"He lost his memory. He doesn't remember me. Destroying the djinn severed our connection."
"What?" Ciri halted, looking from her to Geralt's retreating back, feeling mildly horrified. "He doesn't remember… anything?"
Yennefer stopped as well, studying Geralt's back. "He remembers meeting me, a couple of exchanges here and there, but that's about it. I'm nothing in his life."
"How could that have happened? Is it the djinn's work?" Ciri thought they had killed it, rendering previous wishes null and void. Had they instead made another wish? One that had now come back to bite them on the backside? "How are you so calm?"
Yennefer shrugged. "I assume that despite what we thought about the djinn, there was a part of us, our relationship linked to it and when we destroyed it – we destroyed what we had."
Or she did. There was no real 'we' in that scenario since Geralt didn't even know what she'd been intending when she took him out there.
"Do I have a choice? If I think about it too long I might snap and I'll be useless." Yennefer hadn't been inadequate since the day she started as a sorceress.
"I'm just impressed, is all," Ciri murmured, a little winded from the trek up to the castle, feeling lightheaded. "Not sure I'd be able to."
Yennefer smiled although it wasn't all that sincere, in fact, now that she'd mentioned it, it felt a little sad and that doubt was beginning to creep in.
The first time he'd fallen in love with her it had been a fluke, a once in a lifetime, one that had interceded upon once before and had almost been lost completely.
Would Yennefer really get a third chance?
"I'm not so sure if I can either. I'm trying."
Ciri paused again to put her arms around the sorceress, kissing her cheek before burying her face in the crook of Yen's neck. It was rare for her to be this affectionate but the drink made it easier. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make you sad."
Yennefer hugged her close and closed her eyes, savoring her presence much like she had his while they were alone. "You didn't," she murmured against her shoulder.
I was already sad.
"Now," she announced pulling back, sensing that she was dragging Ciri's mood—and her own—in a direction that was only going to mean another hard night for them, "let's go join the men before they get into too much trouble without us."
She'd already lost sight of them and assumed they'd all gone for mead.
"All right," Ciri said, detangling from her and leading the way into the castle, trying to tame her hair. "You know, upon our reunion in Novigrad, Dandelion told me the story of his affair with the Duchess of Toussaint. Apparently they were madly in love, but she sentenced him to death when she caught him with a baroness."
She eyed the girls from the village who he'd entertained earlier. They were lingering outside the hall, arguing with the guards to gain entrance, looking almost desperate. "I think his love of women will get him hanged one day."
"Amongst other things," Yennefer commented, drifting into the hall behind her. "Care for another drink?" She was also beginning to feel hungry.
"Always." Even if it was highly irresponsible of her. Were the Wild Hunt to show up now, Ciri'd not be much of a match for them.
Still… one more drink. What could it really hurt?
She caught sight of Geralt, Zoltan, and Dandelion further into the hall and descended upon the trio, gently nudging the Witcher with her shoulder. "You're back sooner than I expected. Did you miss me?" She grinned impishly. "Did you miss me so much it hurt?"
Geralt opened his mouth, but Dandelion pitched in: "I missed you too much to wait around for all his contracts and wounds to be dealt with, little bird. Aren't you happy I spurred him up?"
Ciri smirked at Dandelion and swatted at the literal feather in his cap, amused by his constant need to be the center of attention. "You have my undying gratitude, poet."
"Aye, no one can ever do squat without ye," Zoltan chortled, pouring the drinks. "Yer elf, lassy, he doesn't really like it here, does he? Locked himself up in his quarters broodin'. Sourpuss. Or maybe he feels neglected by ye. Might wanna talk to him before he gets on the last Skelligan nerve."
"He's not my elf," Ciri scowled. It felt important they knew that. "I think he feels we are wasting time. That we should be gathering allies or drawing up combat plans." And he wasn't entirely wrong. It wasn't just her life at stake, after all, but everyone's'. But it did feel good to take a break, to remind herself what it was she was fighting for. Her friends and family.
"He'll be fine," Geralt waved a dismissive hand and pulled Ciri onto his lap as he sat at the table, hugging her to him. "I'm not sure I'd go more than a day away from you, and that'd be too long. That's the truth."
She draped an arm over Geralt's shoulders, his embrace making her feel some kind of way. Warm for the first time after a long, long winter. "Same. I feel the same. I don't think I was made to be apart from you."
A smile claimed the Witcher's mouth, he shook his head. "Want to revisit the destiny part? Not that there's need for that when I'm actually here. I came for you."
"I made him," Dandelion put in nonchalantly and took a swig from his tankard.
"How's Priscilla, Dandy-boy?" Zoltan inquired, eyeballing the bard with a cunning smirk. "Let ye go oh so lightly?"
Dandelion's confidence faltered a tad. He shrugged. "Someone had to keep the business going."
"While ye gather new Skelligan admirers?"
"There is no way to stop people's appreciation of arts, you grumpy dwarf," Dandelion said with a haughty mien and finished his drink, then reached for the pitcher.
After grabbing two jugs of mead, Yennefer moved to join them at the table, smiling at the position Geralt and Ciri had taken. She couldn't even bring herself to feel envious that in their happiness, her own wasn't really a thought – at least not for one of them, anymore.
She set Ciri's mead down in front of her, grabbed an open chair and listened while the group spoke around her.
Ciri gave Yennefer a smile and nod of thanks when she joined the table with their mead, instantly helping herself to a large gulp while Zoltan and Dandelion bickered.
"Do you really not remember her?" she whispered in Geralt's ear, her brow pinched in sudden concern. Because this whole thing was worrying.
Her eyes were full of worry bordering on fear. So that was real, then - Geralt had been missing something essential for them both.
He sighed. "I do remember how I met her for the first and second times - and now is the third time."
Ciri swallowed, gently taking his hand in hers and tracing the faded scars on his fingers with her own. "We have to fix it. We're a family – the three of us. That can't just disappear."
"I don't know what there is to fix, Ciri. You are my family, and that's been the only constant in my life. Nothing else."
Ciri nodded, understanding his plight even if she didn't like it. "You don't remember. So it makes no sense for you to try and fix anything. Because you don't know what you've lost.
"But I do. You and Yen – you're the reason I keep fighting when I think I can't anymore. When I think I've lost. I will fight for you both."
There was little to nothing to say to that. It's close to impossible to imagine what you might have had when you have no recollection of having it.
"There was a djinn and a wish involved, and as far as I understood, she was very determined to do away with it. Apparently she managed. Means she wanted it."
"She didn't want you to forget her. She wanted to know if your feelings for one another were real or fabricated by that wish you made long ago," Ciri argued softly, sneaking a glance at the sorceress before helping herself to another large mouthful of mead. "Do you remember making the wish all those years ago? Or is that gone, too?"
"I didn't make any wishes - I made him go away with the same ridiculous exorcism I used the first time. We didn't know it would work again - I thought he would kill us both. But he didn't." Geralt reached for his tankard and took a hearty swig.
Yennefer wasn't feeling very sociable, so didn't even bother with the rest of the bodies around, focused on the two and their bent heads, reading their relayed thoughts.
"No," Ciri murmured. "That's not what happened. Not unless you've both been lying to me since we first met." And that seemed unlikely. They'd never lie to her. Never.
She drained her tankard and reached out to put it back on the table, briefly meeting Yen's eyes and offering her a consoling smile.
"I would never lie to you about this. It's what I remember happened."
Yennefer lowered the tankard just enough so that Ciri could see her mouth and her smile. The sorceress had no plans to intervene on their conversation, unwilling to pretend for even a second that she was going to discuss it out in the open where everyone would be able to hear it or see it.
"I know. That's why I have to fix it." How and when Ciri'd find the time with the Wild Hunt nipping at her backside, she didn't know. But it was important. What would happen otherwise?
Yen and Geralt never spending time together again? Having to come see them separately? Being unable to mention them to each other for fear of upsetting them? They had been – were – such important and pivotal parts of each other's lives. How could that just stop?
It felt like her whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.
Was this what children of separated parents felt like, she wondered? It was a rare thing for married couples to separate but Ciri had heard of it happening. This was close, right?
"How can you fix it when you don't know where to even start," Geralt reasoned. "If it's another djinn's spell, then only a djinn can lift it. And djinns are dangerous even for sorcerers. It's very hard to tame them before they kill you. We have more important matters to plan, no less dangerous."
"I shall have to make it my side-mission," Ciri said stubbornly, waylaying the route of his still half-full tankard to bring it to her lips. This Skellige mead was good!
Geralt heaved an exaggerated sigh, eyeing her with a mock reprimanding stare. "You've always been an unruly kid."
"I take that as a compliment," Ciri grinned, allowing him his tankard back. "Though I am a "kid" no longer."
"As soon as you make a grown-up decision, I'll agree," he grinned and held the tankard out to Zoltan who busied himself refilling.
"Why so quiet, Yennefer?" Dandelion asked across the table while the dwarf poured him another drink. "Is Skellige weather troubling you as much as it does me? I mean, how could any sane person live in this place - beats me. Can't imagine such passion in torturing oneself. To warmth and sun and summer that never reach these lands but caress our skin so often where we live!" He raised the tankard in salute and drank.
Yennefer lowered the tankard from her lips and speared Danelion with a considerate look. "I faced a pretty heavy foe yesterday and I suppose I'm still recovering. Also, it's like you said, the cold tends to take it out of you." Nor was she much in the mood for festivities, not like who'd well past the point already and they going to go strong for a while yet. "Although sometimes, a little cold can go a long way to warm a heart." A reference she'd glanced at Geralt with before raising her mug once more and joining in Dandelion's toast.
Ciri playfully smacked Geralt's shoulder before giving her attention to a semi-whining Dandelion again. With her own tankard empty, she allowed Geralt to toast for them both, though she didn't particularly mind the snow. It brought with it some fond childhood memories.
With Yennefer's addition to the toast, she suddenly felt very out of place. Like she was literally stuck between two lovers about to get intimate.
She cleared her throat and slipped off Geralt's lap. "I should go check on Avallac'h."
"He's going to demand more training, mind you," Geralt warned and gave a you-decide shrug.
"I doubt he'll do that – not in her state." Yennefer flashed Ciri a smile to let her know it'd be fine, and then carefully finished what remained of the mead.
"I've been told I'm an unruly child," Ciri gave an impish grin, swayed lightly on her feet, and trotted off in the direction she'd seen Avallac'h been escorted the day before.
Ciri didn't knock on his door. He'd never bothered with such formalities with her before, so why should she with him? She found the elf standing near the window, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the village below. His stance was rigid, but that didn't mean much. That was just Avallac'h. "You not enjoying the festivities?"
It was a foolish question. If what Zoltan had told her was true, the elf hadn't set foot outside the door since they got here.
"It is frivolous and unimportant," he replied coolly, turning to face her as she stepped further into the room.
"It's unimportant to find joy between battles?" Ciri asked, one brow raised. "To live? What do we fight for then, if not for life?"
Avallac'h watched her, his eyes narrowing, scrutinizing. "You are drunk," he pointed out.
"You're… old."
"So unlike Lara," he sighed regretfully and turned away from her again. "So quarrelsome. So stubborn."
Ciri felt a touch of hurt at that, though she didn't know why. It's not as if she'd ever known her ancestor. "Really? Because back in Tir ná Lia I was told Lara was supposed to marry you, and instead fell in love with a human. He didn't steal her away like you all once tried to make me believe. She chose him. Despite the wishes of her entire race. Sounds… quarrelsome. Sounds stubborn."
She could see him tense in the reflection of the window and knew she'd struck a nerve. It didn't feel as good as she'd hoped.
He was silent for a long moment and when he spoke again it was as if he pretended part of their conversation hadn't happened. "I aim to talk to the druid who lives here. Since Yennefer and Triss Merigold have yet to find their fellow sorceresses, I suppose I shall have to start gathering our allies myself."
"No time to lose, eh?"
"None, and you know that better than anyone. Go sober up, Zireael. You are no use to anyone like this."
She narrowed her eyes at the elf's back, ire spiking again. But she didn't argue. What was the use? She simply headed for the door and left him with a few parting words. "Mousesack is at the feast. See you there."
Geralt turned to regard Yennefer pensively, sipping his mead. "What is it you believe Avallac'h wants with her truly?"
"Elves are a shady folk," Zoltan piped in uninvited and sat down with his full tankard. "They say one thing, think the second, then do from third to fifth depending on their moods or weather. They rarely show any favor for any other kin, especially humans. It's clear all he sees in our lassy is her talents. He sees use in them for himself. No doubt about it. He helps her now and then demands rewards."
"Who's to guarantee he won't be just another what's-his-name-the-hunt-prince," Dandelion agreed. "He might want all your help to eliminate this commander to claim her for himself." He shrugged and drank.
"Not that I'll let it slide," Geralt said. "Even wraiths find their end on my sword, and he's a living-bleeding creature. He will not get away with it if that's his plan."
Yennefer thought that it could go one of two ways. Either he was so infatuated with her that he'd hoped that by being her rescuer he'd eventually attempt to wed her, or he wanted her favor for something more sinister. She listened to Zoltan's rebuttal – she understood where he was coming from. Avallac'h wasn't forthcoming about who he was and there was only so much digging that had served. And also Ciri appeared to be very protective of him which made it harder to press the issue.
"Nor I," Yennefer chimed at Geralt's declaration, adding her own threat when he was finished. "And when Geralt's had his turn, I'll bring him back and we'll start the procedure all over again. No one with ill intentions are going to get their hands on her."
What Zoltan had said though seemed to brew, to feaster in her head like a warning bell. Signs came to you for a reason. What if this was one of them?
"What do you know about Avallac'h, Geralt?"
So much of their story had changed, perhaps he'd been gifted a different perspective in this, too, especially since he hardly remembered them saving her together or breaking the curse that bound the elf.
"Only what he told me, which isn't enough by a long shot. He's indeed after his own goals and he lets no one know about them until the time comes. He's training Ciri fanatically to help her control her powers, but it also feels he wants to get a better control over her for whatever purpose he keeps to himself."
"Aye," Zoltan nodded. "He needs to be watched at all times when he's with the girl."
"Or perhaps she doesn't need him all that much," Dandelion said and shrugged, directing his eyes to the raven-haired sorceress. "What can he possibly provide her with that Yennefer is incapable of? What? His elfish charms?"
"Whatever there is about that charm - no one but Ciri has a say," Geralt said with a wince of displeasure and finished his mug.
"Geralt's right," Yennefer said. "We're free to worry and air our concerns, but she's matured a lot since she's been gone and she's been making her own decisions. It wouldn't be fair of us to push our fears onto her and question his motives without evidence."
Didn't mean they couldn't go out of their way to find any or keep a closer eye on him. For now, though, she trusted him, didn't think he'd steal her away into the shadows and flee.
She'd never let him.
At least she hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Yennefer stood slowly, swept a hand over the table to claim her mead and casually excused herself as she went in search of more to drink and something to eat.
Ciri ran into Crach on her way back to the main hall and received one of his large hands in a friendly pat to her back that nearly sent her face-first into the table. It seemed the giant man had taken part in a fair deal of celebration himself, which wasn't a surprise. His daughter had been crowned Queen, after all.
She left him to drink and laugh with his son, Hjalmar, and friends, and sought out her own, cautiously trailing Yennefer with her gaze as she veered away and towards the tables holding food and drink.
Ciri took a seat between Geralt and Dandelion, opposite Zoltan, and felt the latter two's eyes on her. As if they had recently mentioned her name and only fallen silent because she had come. "What?"
"How'd it go with the elf?" Zoltan asked, not bothering with any extra courtesies. "Ye talked? He's mad at us or something?"
Dandelion and Geralt drank quietly, glancing between them.
"At you?" She smiled, a little amused. "No. Avallac'h tends to reserve his anger and annoyance for me. Apparently I know just which buttons to push. But he's not fond of our parties. Not dignified enough for an elf, I think."
She reached for the nearest tankards to examine their content, whether there was any at all, and found them to still be watching her. She hesitated. "You distrust him?"
Dandelion and the Witcher busied themselves with refilling their tankards, but Zoltan had no reservations.
"Of course, Lassy! It's not just that he's an elf - though it plays a huge part in how he is - but also a sorcerer, and that combination means he never lets ye in on all his plans or morals. Ye need to be careful, very careful with him, is all I'm sayin'. No matter how much ye've grown, yer still our precious little lassy. We'll always worry and protect ye."
Ciri pushed her tankard Geralt's way for a refill, but her eyes remained on Zoltan. "Avallac'h and I have history. And not a good one. Had this been five years ago I would never have let him near me. But time has passed and priorities have shifted. Avallac'h is cunning and manipulative but I trust him with my life. And yours. And I won't have any of you move against him. Do you understand? Doubt his motives all you want amongst yourselves, but don't try to push him away. I need him."
Neither Geralt, nor Dandelion found it immediately necessary to argue, though the glances they exchanged said they were wary of how trusting Ciri appeared.
"It's not about any moves against anyone, Ciri," Zoltan said, leaning closer to the table confidingly. "And I have no doubts he's ready to protect yer life - he needs ye for many things, I'm sure. He's not into losing such powerful project. What I doubt is his investment into anyone else's wellbeing. Not that it's a problem for Geralt or me who can protect ourselves. But still, lassy, keep in mind he'll fool ye if it benefits his cause. What his cause is - ye don't know."
"What is this history, if you don't mind us prying?" asked Dandelion, unable to rule himself down. "What makes you so sure of him and your need in him?"
The touch of tension at the table hadn't been lost on Yennefer when she returned, and after a brief scan of everyone's inner thoughts, it wasn't hard to know what had been said. She carefully set her plate down, sat down and began to eat, not feeling it necessary to interject while Ciri was being lectured by her friends or advised about her safety. Besides, Yennefer was curious, too, about this so called history that they had as not much had been shared.
Ciri did know his cause. They were the ones left out. And a part of her felt sorry for that. But it was necessary. If they were told… they'd fight tooth and nail to hold her back. Because they loved her.
She chose not to reply to Zoltan then and instead fixed Dandelion with her attention. His question was not a pleasant one and she regretted having even brought it up. It wasn't simply that the story still made her feel humiliated at times, but that, because they were already so wary of Avallac'h – a most important ally – they'd practically hate him once they knew.
"I'm not sure it would be wise of me to tell," she admitted, regarding Geralt from under her lashes even if he had not been the one to ask.
"So it's wise to keep us in the dark, you mean?" he said, no longer able to just keep his mouth shut. There were limits. "We have our most important battle ahead and we head into it half-blind because we let someone we don't know, nor trust, way too close to all of us solely because you believe you need him."
"What is it that you need him so much for?" Dandelion asked, squinting. "You have one of the best sorceresses at your disposal, but you pick a shady elf with hidden agenda over the person who helped raise you. I'm sorry, Ciri, but I find it a bit strange, as if he charmed you out of your common sense. Or maybe he ensured that bond otherwise."
Geralt studied her closely as his friend spoke, with more dismay noticing something in her that she didn't want him to know. That not just hurt, but worried him beyond measure.
The Witcher set his jaw to refrain from saying anything else she obviously thought wasn't his place to judge, and focused his eyes on his tankard, mulling things over.
"Let her breathe," Yennefer chided, although she understood where everyone was coming from with their concern and that they couldn't go in blindly into their battle.
It wasn't fair.
However, if that was what Ciri wanted from her – the sorceress was sure she would. Yennefer had to save her, hadn't she? Only she didn't want to push Ciri away or make anyone else drive her into a corner where she got defensive and clammed up. "Do you trust him, Ciri? With your life? With ours?"
"I already said I did," she told Yennefer, trying to stay calm. Though that plan rapidly went out the window.
She met Geralt's gaze, saw the ire and hurt there and it ignited her own, and yet it was Dandelion's queries she answered first. She could practically feel her eyes flash with the same fury she'd found impossible to control as a child. "Pick? Am I to choose then? Between the people that matter to me? I didn't know that was an expectation you all had of me. You speak of him as if he has already betrayed you. As if he has brought you harm. And yet the only person at this table who has right to that claim is me, and if I can manage to push old resentment aside for the greater good, then the rest of you should as well.
"How is he keeping you in the dark? How am I? You really think I would keep secrets that are a threat to your life?" It was Geralt she watched now and her annoyance immediately died down, replaced by disbelief and pain. "It's not just him you don't trust; it's me."
It was a realization that threatened to knock the wind out of her. Ciri promptly stood and headed for the exit, feeling as if the castle walls were closing in on her.
The hurt in her eyes directed at him with the open accusation stabbed Geralt deeper than any sword could. He felt every inch of her broken trust blade cracking inside his heart pouring dead cold around it.
"It was a bad idea to bombard her with all our doubts from all three sides in one go, especially when she's tipsy and worried about the whole ordeal," he said, shaking his head, and set the tankard on the table, readying to go.
"Shame about how she exploded, aye," the dwarf said, rubbing his neck and looking apologetic. "But she had to hear it from us - not just ye. So she wouldn't think it's yer jealousy or something as stupid, Geralt. She has to let herself think about it."
"She will cool off, she always does," Dandelion added. "Maybe she will even give it a bit of thought on her own. She ought to. She's a very smart girl. She wouldn't have survived without it. You taught her well." He attempted a meek smile of encouragement that dimmed significantly when his eyes went to Yennefer. "Although, I imagine, someone else could've said something." He shrugged and drank.
"I'll go talk to her," Geralt said getting up.
Ciri's outpouring was enough to break Yennefer's heart, especially the look Ciri'd directed at Geralt, as if of all of them she expected better from him. When she stood and headed for the exit, the sorceress prepared to get to her feet as well, to follow Ciri in hopes of catching up.
Matching Geralt's intention as it appeared they both had a similar idea.
Another time Yennefer might have let him talk her down alone, but with what he didn't remember and everything in between that had separated them, who knew how it may have warped for him.
"We'll talk to her," she said with determination, leaving little room for him to attempt to argue as she walked away from the table, eyes scanning the throne of people in search their ashen-haired drunken beauty.
When they were almost at the door leading out into the inner yard, the Witcher caught Yennefer by the arm.
"Given how she felt we all cornered her, I think it's best I try alone."
Yennefer appreciated his sentimentality and his concern, but she also knew that it wasn't going to go down that way, that with their views so vastly different, that as much as Ciri needed her, so did he. "I won't get in your way."
But he wasn't going alone, and she made that known by carefully freeing up her elbow and continuing on her way in search of Ciri.
Geralt frowned, proceeding outside. "Don't trust me with her?"
Yennefer speared him with a look that said he was being ridiculous. "Of course I do, but even the great Witcher of Rivia needs a little back up when it comes to a temperamental adolescent."
"I've been doing just fine all the years we had. Let me do this."
That stung, especially because those years no longer involved her, automatically discounting her opinion on the matter as if Yennefer had been criticizing him.
She drew to a stop, the now familiar pang of sadness sweeping in like an old friend with its cold steel.
"If you need me I'll be at the inn."
With that, she cut away and headed for the mass of people gathered on the stairs leading toward the inn.
Geralt felt a tug somewhere in his chest at how she looked at him. He couldn't explain it, but followed an instinct before his reasonable mind stopped him and caught her arm again.
"I didn't mean to... exclude you. Forgive me. I just... I need it to work and more than one could drive her further into defiance. Well, if you've been as involved in her life, you gotta know it."
Yennefer was already blinking tears from her eyes, stiffening as his hand found her arm a second time, almost too ashamed by her own erratic emotions to meet his gaze.
But she did, eventually, touched by the fact that he'd apologized.
She seared the space between them and pressed a kiss to his lips, unconcerned that they were out in public and that many people might have seen and would carry on with their next bout of stories.
Her kiss, once again, caught him off-guard, but somehow his arm wrapped habitually around her waist as she leaned in, as if executed many times over. The whole theory of not knowing her shivered a tad while her lips made him lose any thought for the long moment it continued. When she drew away, he felt more intoxicated than all the Skelligan mead had managed to achieve.
After a brief moment, she pulled back, gifted him a smile to let him know she was fine with what he felt he needed to do and that his apology had been accepted. "You know where I'll be."
She freed up her elbow once more, offering him an encouraging smile as she left and then steadily continued on her way, this time feeling less mangled and broken than she had the first time.
He smiled subtly and gave her a thankful nod, watched her go as his mind span around the mystery of Yennefer of Vengerberg like an eagle soaring over a field with potential prey that has to be stalked. When she was up the stairs and gone, he went in search of Ciri.
He could have used his senses, but somehow deep down he felt where she went, as if there was some special magical scent trail in the air leading him to where she was.
She chose a cliff over the spot where the harbor met the ocean. She sat on the edge, legs dangling, and watched the sun crawl its way to the horizon coloring the water orange.
Ciri wasn't sure why she'd chosen the cliffs. Not at first. Not until it dawned on her this was where she'd sat as a child, watching the other children play down below. Before she became accepted, one of them. When she still felt like an outsider.
The wind was harsh and unforgiving, making her eyes water. At least, she told herself, that was the reason for the sudden moisture.
Geralt found her easily, of course. She'd half expected it. And it was comforting to know he still could. That all their years apart had not changed that.
"Forgive me, Ciri," Geralt began in a quiet voice, approaching her. "I meant to say nothing, but it didn't go as planned. Not because I don't trust you – that could never happen – but because I can't fully rely on this man the same way you do. Mostly because we know close to nothing about anything you two share in that common history you mentioned." He settled on the stones, legs crossed, and looked at the ship sitting in the harbor. "I sense something unpleasant about him, but I'm no sorcerer and can't read thoughts. It does leave me in the dark with all my doubts and suspicions and hunches. It doesn't feel good in this place I'm in right now.
"I've never lied to you. Thus I had to say it. What I didn't have to do is hurt you in the process. I'd die to take it back."
"I hurt myself," Ciri told him, for she had calmed down and now felt quite silly for her earlier outburst. She wanted so badly to be able to partake in an argument without exploding, like Yennefer, or Geralt himself. That had yet to happen in her life. "There is nothing to forgive. You are right to be wary. I probably would be, too, in your boots. But it's not like Dandelion says; I have not chosen him over you or Yennefer. I never would. You are not even in the same category.
"But I do care about Avallac'h," she added quietly, gaze on her hands in her lap. "Not like you may think. He has not 'charmed' me. He was never that charming. Eredin was the one with that trait."
She swallowed, silent a while to collect her thoughts before continuing. "Avallac'h and I have travelled together for the better part of two years now. We've encountered so many perils, so many challenges, visited so many worlds, and seen things I would never have imagined in my wildest fantasies. And never once has he let me down. All he has done is keep me safe. Risking his life to do so.
"And because I couldn't find you or Yennefer, no matter how hard I tried, he made me feel… less alone. Like I wasn't facing The Hunt on my own. Does that make sense to you?"
Geralt nodded. "It does."
He didn't think the elf was doing it out of the goodness of his heart, though.
The Witcher turned to Ciri, considering her. "How did you two meet?"
"It's a long story," Ciri said, not to be dismissive but simply to warn him. And she doubted he would like any of it. She didn't, either, to be honest. "It was after I had to flee Thanedd Island where Yennefer had brought me to escape the oncoming war."
Ciri paused again, because of course, he would not remember. "After my training at Kaer Morhen, when Triss was unable to help me with my powers, you asked Yennefer to train me and brought me to Temple of Melitele to meet her there."
She eyed him to see if there was any recollection of the memory. Perhaps he only remembered bringing her there to learn magic, but the part about Yennefer had slipped from his mind. "Anyway, to escape Thanedd Island when the temple was attacked, I stepped through a portal. And I ended up in a world of trouble after that. Figuratively speaking. Another long story. Short version being, I became a wanted woman. Well, girl, I suppose. The Emperor was searching for me, though I did not know his true identity at the time. I didn't know he was my father. But he was not the only one. There were others, people who wanted me for crimes I had committed, and those who wanted me for my blood.
"And so I was pursued by bounty hunters and mercenaries. Soldiers, too."
Ciri didn't want to tell him details about the one who caught her, though she suspected he already knew some. The memory of that man still brought fear to her heart, making her hands tremble right here and now, even though she knew he was dead and gone.
"In my mission to escape them, I entered a portal with no idea of where it would take me. I ended up in the world of the Aen Elle. And Avallac'h was there. Waiting for me."
It was hard to refrain from raining questions down on her, but Geralt had to ask the most important ones. The rest she could tell them later.
"Waiting for you?" he repeated. "He knew you'd come? Or he was one of those searching?"
"I think he knew. He might have seen me coming in a vision. Because when he first saw me, he said: 'What took you so long? What kept you?'"
She paused, uncertain whether some of the details were important for Geralt to know. Perhaps not, but they did regard their enemy.
"When I was chased by the bounty hunters, I sought out a tower. A tower mentioned only in legends called Tor Zireael. The Tower of The Swallow. I'd seen a similar tower in Thanedd, Tor Lara, and had used its portal to escape before. I believed the two were connected, that if I managed to activate the portal I would be able to travel from Tor Zireael to Tor Lara, where I would be safe. At least for a while.
"But one particular bounty hunter was close on my heels in the end." She still remembered the fury on Bonhart's face as he neared, how he had called out to her: 'I told you that you were mine! That I'll do what I want with you! That no one will stop me from doing it! Not people, not gods, nor devils, nor demons. Or enchanted towers! You're mine, witcher girl!'
Ciri inhaled sharply, because the memory still had the power to fill her with dread. "I knew I'd be dead, or worse, if he caught me. For the truth is, Geralt, even if it brings me great shame to admit it – he was stronger than me. A better fighter. Better than any human should be. And I was truly frightened then, because where the tower was supposed to be, there was just empty space.
"But then I heard them. Horses in a gallop coming our way. It was the Wild Hunt. I don't know what they did to him, but they at least stalled Bonhart's progress. And the tower emerged as they did and I stepped inside. Eredin saved me from him. And don't worry, I know perfectly well it was not out of the kindness of his heart. For his heart has no such quality."
"I understand Eredin whose motivation is purely selfish," Geralt said. "What about Avallac'h? Why is he so dedicated to save you if it's not about personal feelings?"
"When we first met his motivation was the same as Eredin's. When I stepped through the portal I saw the most horrible visions. And I knew they were true. They were of you. And of Yennefer. Both in danger. Both in pain. And I knew I had to find you immediately.
"But as I said, the portal did not take me where I had expected it to. It took me to the world of the Aen Elle. I tried to make the portal open again. It would not.
"I had my horse, Kelpie, with me and we tried to escape. To run away from Avallac'h and the she-elves at the tower. But no matter how far we ran, I always ended back up there. It was a strange kind of magic. No matter what I did, I could not escape.
"We spent eight days at that tower, me trying to escape, the elves waiting for me to finish. And when I finally did, Avallac'h took me to the capital. Tir ná Lia. And then, he told me what I had to do to earn my freedom. He wanted me to produce an heir with their king, Auberon. My great, great-something-or-other grandfather.
"You see, Auberon once had a daughter named Lara. She was very powerful and a carrier of the Elder Blood, like me. The Aen Elle had worked for centuries to breed that bloodline to perfection, and she was to marry another powerful Aen Elle, one who would unlock the power of the Elder Blood. Avallac'h.
"Together they were meant to produce a child capable of opening the Gates of The Worlds. A portal the elves had once had access to, but had lost over time. They wanted to travel freely between the worlds, to conquer and enslave, and also to move the entire population of Aen Elle to a different world where they would be safe from The White Frost.
"But Lara fell in love with a human mage, and defying the wishes of her people, she married him and had his child. My ancestor. The elves never truly recovered from that loss. They felt as though the human had stolen the Elder Blood from them. And it was my duty to pay the debt owed. By giving them a child.
"That no longer seems to be Avallac'h's priorities. Even back in Tir ná Lia I could tell he had been in love with Lara, and in his own strange way he was trying to keep me safe. To honor her, I think. He was never cruel, never laid a hand on me."
Well, except that one time, but Ciri had purposely provoked him then. To his breaking limits.
"I don't think he loves me like he did Lara. But I know he sees something of her in me and he wants to keep me safe."
She paused again, silent for a long while. "I'm no fool, you know. Not a stupid little girl infatuated by the mighty elf. I cannot say for certain Avallac'h priorities won't shift once we defeat Eredin and his riders. But that will be then. This is now. And for now, we are on the same team."
Disgust, anger and dismay mixed up into an explosive need to run both his swords through the bastard. It took all of Geralt to squelch it.
He wished Yennefer could hear this story. Somehow, he knew she would be as mad, and it made him feel slightly better to not be alone in it. He didn't know how deep her affection for Ciri ran, but deep down he trusted it could be parentally profound.
"You've always been far from a fool, Ciri," the Witcher said watching the sun creep lower toward the waterline of the horizon. "What it looks like now is a tug of war between Avallac'h and Eredin for the ultimate prize which is what you can give them. I trust he wants you alive. But I don't trust the good intentions. He might have proven you many times he would protect you. But he hasn't proven to me once that he would let you be free when it's all done. And I don't believe it's what he plans for you."
Though he hid it admirably, Ciri could sense his anger. And the revulsion. She wondered how he'd feel about her and the decision she had made back then. Would he be disappointed?
"If he does have hidden and nefarious plans for me once the battle ends, you have my full support in running him through with your sword," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "But until any such evidence appears…"
Silent again. She watched the few fishing boats out in the bay, thoughtful.
"I agreed to their terms, you know? I tried to give Eredin and Avallac'h what they wanted."
Geralt swallowed and pulled her to him possessively in a hug. "Tried..?"
"Those visions," she said, closing her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. "You were in danger. Suffering. Dying. I had to find my way back to you. And the only way to do that was to co-operate. Time worked differently there. Though nine or more months would have passed there, if done correctly, they could ensure I got back to our world mere moments after I had left in the first place. I refused at first, of course, but the more time passed, the more desperate I became.
"So I agreed. I would fulfill my end of the deal, if they stuck to theirs. Every night, they bathed me, fixed my hair, makeup, and put me in the most beautiful clothes. With exquisite undergarments. Like those Yennefer has, you know?"
Or, she supposed, he didn't. Not anymore.
"And I would go to Auberon's chambers. He was never in a hurry. Elves have all the time in the world. Many nights we would talk or play chess or study books. He was handsome. Very much so. Like Eredin, himself.
"He had my hair…" A detail she hadn't truly paid much attention to before but occurred to her now. "And every night, Auberon would tell me to get undressed. Which I did. He would…"
She fell silent, not from any kind of trauma but sheer embarrassment. Geralt was the closest thing she had ever had to a father, after all. It must be torment for him to hear of this. Her cheeks flushed pink and she pulled away a little, straightening up.
"The point is, Auberon was never able to… um… rise to the occasion." She decided not to meet Geralt's eyes. "At first I assumed it was because my looks displeased him."
She touched her face, the scar that marred her cheek and had looked even worse back then.
"Or that perhaps it was my lack of experience in that area. But eventually, I understood. It had nothing to do with my looks. And everything to with what I am. Human. He was disgusted by the idea.
"Eredin once told me that looking at me and seeing the resemblance to Lara, was like finding a nugget of gold in a compost heap. Auberon said that was too modest a comparison. They hated humans with such a passion. We were nothing to them.
"Of course, everyone in Tir ná Lia soon knew of the King's problems. The walls had eyes and ears, always. One day, Eredin challenged me to a race. On horseback. No one had ever beaten him before but I did. My horse was better. And I was unafraid. He took me to a cottage by the river and for a short while I suspected he wanted to try what the King could not do."
The images of Ciri, a little girl of ten years lost in the dryad forest flashed in Geralt's mind; Ciri, the little girl pursuing her destiny running into his arms calling his name with the joy Geralt had never heard in anyone's voice producing his name before in his entire long life.
It was even harder to listen to her story and remain cool-headed, but he had to do the impossible for her. To her in the whole world, he owed as much, and more.
The Witcher unlocked his jaw from its tight set that made the muscles in his cheeks bulge, and asked: "What happened then?"
Part of Ciri hadn't even minded the thought of Eredin. She was excited at the prospect. She was intrigued by him, and despite his best efforts not to be, he was intrigued by her as well. Though obviously for other reasons.
"But that was not what happened. He offered me a small flask with a green liquid. It was an aphrodisiac, he told me, and I should give it to the King. I was young, yes, but I knew perfectly well when someone was trying to use me. So I told him no. I would not give up my freedom by potentially assassinating the King. He didn't mind. We ate dinner together, and he let it go.
"A few days later I was out riding Kelpie when suddenly the mare took off in a direction I had never gone before. I tried to stop her but she would not yield. I expected a barrier to come eventually, for it always did, keeping me prisoner there. Not this time. Instead, I found myself in a stone circle, surrounded by unicorns.
"Did you know the Aen Elle and unicorns are enemies? They weren't always but are now. The unicorns offered me a way home, for they did not want the Aen Elle to gain access to the Gates of The Worlds again. I took it after some consideration, waiting at the castle for the right time to come.
"I decided to see the King one last time. I found him in his chambers, slumped in a chair, Eredin's flask hanging from his hand… He was dying. At first he mistook me for Lara. Called me his daughter and asked me to come to him. Before long he realized who I was. He confessed to me how frightened he was. He asked me to stay with him. I did. I held his hand until he was gone.
"And then I ran. I battled Eredin on the way, for he had seen me leave and was not willing to let me go. But I managed to wound him with my sword and reunite with one of the unicorns. With him, I managed to tap into my power, and we fled to another world. And then another. And another. Endless worlds. Because I did not know the way back to ours. It took time.
"I knew the Wild Hunt was chasing me, of course, but I didn't know Avallac'h was looking, too. Took him years to find me."
Geralt wasn't surprised in the least by Eredin's attempt to use someone else's hand in his gruesome task.
But even that didn't paint him any worse than Avallac'h with his trying to use Ciri for a breeding mare. That the Witcher could never forgive. He killed humans for lesser crimes against their own kin.
He sighed a long one, trying to get all the anger and helpless rage out, for they were burning him like poison inside, and then took Ciri's chin in his hand making her look at him.
"None of what happened to you is your fault or any reason to be ashamed, Ciri, do you understand me? It is all fully and undeniably on them and their foul desires for power no matter the cost. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I couldn't be prouder of you and your strength. Your grandmother would be very proud."
Ciri smiled a little, gently wrapping her fingers around Geralt's wrist. "I'm not ashamed of what I did to try and free myself."
She was ashamed of how good it had felt and how she, in part, had wanted it. How she'd briefly fantasized of Eredin that day of the race. How she had found him attractive. How she'd fallen asleep in the arms of the King. She should have been stronger. Perhaps, had she been older, had it been now, she would have been.
"It doesn't hurt me anymore, what happened in Tir ná Lia. Not anymore," she assured Geralt, reaching up to stroke his cheek the way she had often done as a girl, expecting to feel rough stubble beneath her fingertips. There had been plenty of times during their travels together where he had not had the opportunity to shave for a few days. And she knew it had bothered him. Something she'd taken delight in teasing him about.
But now, his skin was smooth. "I really did miss you, Geralt."
The Witcher smiled, brushing a thumb over her chin, taking in the sparkly green of her eyes and their comfort. "Never since that day we met in that merchant's yard have I felt truly whole without you by my side. I miss you all the time."
"Then let us try to not part ways so quickly this time, hmm?" Ciri leaned into him, the cold of Skellige finally getting to her. She hadn't brought any winter clothing. "Where is Yennefer?" she asked suddenly as if only just noticing she had not come with him. "She didn't leave. Did she?"
"She's at the inn, no doubt waiting to talk to you. She wanted to come here but then allowed me to come alone. I didn't want to make you feel like we were trying to pressure you into something two on one. It was and never would be our intention."
Ciri felt a sense of relief at that and squeezed his arm in thanks. He knew her well. Sometimes she wondered if he was able to feel what she did. "I think we should go back to Novigrad. Avallac'h does, too. We need more allies for the upcoming battles. Especially sorceresses."
She stood and extended a hand in offer to help him up as well.
"I don't trust the Lodge. But sadly, they are needed."
"Anyone who threatens you will have to step over my dead body first," Geralt said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they started toward the village and the inn. "And it's not as easy as it seems. And then there's Zoltan and Yennefer - or so you tell me. What I know for sure is that Yennefer never loses her fights."
"No, she never does," Ciri said, smiling proudly at that. "I'm still baffled by the Djinn's magic and its effects on your memory. It scares me."
She fell silent as they passed a few tipsy villagers. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit during the talk on the mountain.
"I've heard rumors Emhyr is looking for me. Always looking. Is there any truth to that rumor?"
"He is," the Witcher confirmed. "His spies helped in finding you and he demanded I brought you to him. I told him you would decide yourself, but I don't think he believes I can disobey."
Ciri chewed her bottom lip, giving him a concerned look. "Can you?"
"In a heartbeat. Everything will be the way you choose, Ciri. I swear it to you."
Ciri felt touched at that. More than she would ever be able to express.
She hugged his waist as they walked, unmindful of all the watching eyes surrounding them. That was normal. People always stared at the white– and ashen–haired, scarred freaks. "What do you think he wants?"
"He claims he wants the best for you - which he believes is his throne. But I can sense something else beneath it. I don't know what it is. I can't read his thoughts. I can only smell things like the mutant with his instincts that I am."
Ciri winced. Just the thought of taking on the responsibility of something as important as her father's throne made her shoulders stiffen and ache from tension. "Everyone always wants something." She laughed without humor and briefly buried her face against Geralt's jerkin, letting him usher her into the inn.
"Burden of being special," he murmured, guiding her along the wall of the inn's hall to their room. He opened the door and let her go in. "I'll give you two time to talk while I see what Zoltan and Dandelion are doing."
Ciri paused in the doorway, whispering, "You sure? You're not avoiding her, are you?"
"No. I merely think she would like a moment I robbed her of before."
He didn't know Yennefer closely to want to avoid or not. He didn't really know how to behave around her.
"Alright," Ciri said, briefly squeezing his arm with a parting smile before turning to head into the room. "Yen?"
Yennefer had sensed them on the other side of the door before Ciri had even opened it and stepped inside. Unlike the day before when the sorceress had been sulking in the bathtub, this time she was on the bed, propped by pillows, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. "You all right?"
"Yes. I am sorry for the scene," Ciri said honestly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed where she lay. "I just… needed some air."
Yennefer rolled onto her side, fixing the girl with a thoughtful look, one that delved deeper to probe at her mind gently. "I understand. I also get that Avallac'h has been there for you and that you two have shared more than we could ever know. Two years is a long time to be trapped with someone. Did you speak to Geralt?"
"I did. I spoke, he listened, for the most part." Ciri laughed lightly, then sobered. "And now… I think he hates Avallac'h even more than before. Which is inconvenient. But I also get the feeling he's not going to attempt to murder the elf first chance he gets, so… there's that."
"What'd you tell him to inspire that kind of… change?" As far as Yennefer had been able to tell he'd been distrusting, not murderous or wishing the elf any kind of harm. "Did he do something to you?" She hated herself for not picking up on it before and believing that perhaps the stiff elf harbored some kind of affection for her. She shifted into an upright position so she could sit beside Ciri.
Ciri inhaled deeply, not really wishing to tell the whole story once more so shortly after the first time. But Yen deserved to know. She'd opened up to Geralt and he hadn't let her down. Yennefer wouldn't, either.
So, after she pulled her legs up onto the bed and rested her hands in her lap, Ciri told Yennefer exactly what she had told the Witcher, not pausing this time to allow for questions. They would have to come when she finished.
When she did, she felt a strange kind of exhaustion. One that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with her mind.
Yennefer listened, eventually taking a hold of her hand, squeezing gently in support as Ciri regaled the details, feeling a rush of nausea and anger sweep through her at their treatment of who Ciri had once been and their attempts to use her womb as if they had some right to it.
If Avallac'h had come into this room at this instant, Yennefer would have gutted him like a stinky fish and sent him back to wherever he'd come from to make sure he didn't harbor such ideas again.
Or better: put him back in that deformed booger-eating cursed monstrosity she had unwrapped him from.
"I always believed you were strong, but you're far powerful than I could ever have imagined – and it has nothing to do with your blood. To have been through that and still found your way back."
Yennefer used her free hand and swept it over the top of Ciri's head, playing with that one rebellious strand that perpetual sprung free of her hair tie, tucking it behind her ear.
"It's admirable."
The sorceress eased off the edge of the mattress, yanked at the covers and then gave Ciri a little nudge, intending to help her remove the boots so she could relax against the covers. It seemed the mead and her emotionally charged conversations had taken their toll.
"You should sleep."
Like with Geralt, Ciri could tell she was angry. Experiencing a range of emotions, actually. And, like with Geralt, Ciri was glad she did not explode or instantly demand for the girl to cease all contact with the elf. Ciri knew they probably wanted to. But they hadn't.
She scooted further up the bed and allowed Yen to remove her boots. Some sleep sounded good right about now. Though the sorceress's words had brought a smile to her face, one without warmth or humor, and as Ciri lay down to rest her head on the pillow, she spoke. "The elves weren't so bad. Not compared to what came before."
It was with the bounty hunter Bonhart she had truly experienced hell. And his memory continued to bring strong feelings of shame and fear. Even grief. The Aen Elle were nothing… They'd been soft, fluffy kittens compared to him.
Ciri absentmindedly traced the scar on her cheek with her fingertips, closed her eyes, and drifted off.
Bonhart. Yennefer cringed at the feelings Ciri shared with her before falling asleep, already nearing unconsciousness before Yennefer managed to free her other foot of the boot.
She watched the girl's features, freed the blankets from beneath her and then carefully brought them up over her, tucking her in like she used to do at times when Ciri was a child.
For a time she sat watching Ciri sleep, hopeful that it was peaceful and that come morning, everything that she'd shared with them would have lifted slightly and allowed her a bit of peace.
Yennefer hadn't asked about Geralt.
Would he be coming back tonight? Was he going to hole away somewhere else with Dandelion? What if he returned to the festivities and, in the wake of everything, decided to wrap himself up with someone else entirely – another woman?
Yennefer winced at the thought and the initial hurt that sprung to mind.
What if Triss were to appear now? There were so many what-ifs, potential scenarios on where things could go when he wasn't in his right frame of mind, that she didn't know what to do.
Yennefer guessed she needed to let fate play itself out for tonight.
If he didn't remember her, then he hardly remembered her room and the fact that he'd stayed here, or that even Ciri did.
The sorceress scrubbed a hand through her hair, walked over to the other side of the bed and lay down beside Ciri, hardly tired as she studied her adopted daughter's face, prepared to carefully stroke away any worry should it arise in her dreams.