Geralt found Zoltan and Dandelion where he left them - Crach was strolling away on unsteady feet. Must have had a few rounds of Gwent and drinks with the fellows.
"Hey, Geralt," Zoltan greeted. "How's the lass?"
"I'm sorry, Geralt," Dandelion added. "We wanted all the best for her but failed to explain."
"She's fine," he said, sitting down as Zoltan pushed a filled tankard his way. "Apologized for her outburst. A bit tipsy and touchy on the subject of the elf."
"We gathered as much," Dandelion said. "But I hope you talked at least some sense into her?"
"Did my best under the circumstances. But it's always up to her and her alone what to do with her personal trust. None of us have to replicate it, however."
"He gave us no reason to," Zoltan said and drank. "Just watch out with this guy, I tell ye."
"Right," Dandelion murmured.
Yennefer stayed with Ciri for a good half hour before rising up off the covers and going in search of Geralt within the festivities. She'd left a lot to fate once upon a time and regretted it ever since. Now that she'd been given a second chance she was going to make sure it didn't play out in the same way it had the first time.
When she found him, he was with Zoltan and Dandelion.
Crach stopped her before she got to the table.
"Dance with me," he demanded, cheeks flush from mead, his hands already on her wrist trying to haul her into position, to join in on the few bodies already scattered around merrily singing.
He was one of the few men to attempt such a brazen move and know he could get away with it.
"Unfortunately I must decline, I—I have other diplomacies that need tending."
His disappointment hadn't gone unnoticed, nor did his eyes immediately darting to Geralt, piecing together her intention and direction.
"Perhaps a little later," she retorted discreetly, soothing his wounded pride.
"I'll hold ye to it."
She freed her hand, offered him a smile and moved to reclaim her former seat, noting that someone had already removed her abandoned plate. She wasn't hungry anymore, anyway.
"You lot not ready to call it a night, yet?"
"The sun hasn't even set properly yet!" Zoltan objected and refilled their mugs. "And ye know how these feasts go - until the morn light."
"I'm not sleepy yet," Dandelion said and yawned into his fist.
Dandelion wasn't going to be hold out very long, but his attempt to keep up was admiring as much as it was amusing. She gave him an hour before he gave up.
"I also know that they can go on for days and that you've got to reenergize."
And Geralt was hurt.
The Witcher looked at Yennefer inquiringly, "Ciri?"
"She's asleep. I believe the mead and… the day finally caught up to her. How about you? How are you holding up? Is the poultice helping?"
Geralt finished his drink and nodded. "Yes, feels better. Why didn't you stay with Ciri? The room smells like you - means you're staying there, too."
"Like it's news to you," Dandelion snorted into his tankard. Zoltan kicked his foot under the table and lilted out his drink.
"I'll go see if Crach wants to win some coin back. If we don't see each other tonight, Geralt, good night to ye. And ye, too, Yennefer." Off he went.
Dandelion yawned, looking after their retreating friend, then back to them. "I'm still to find out where I can sleep if anywhere, but I bet Zoltan will have this matter resolved in a heartbeat."
"Maybe you should talk to him about it before he gets too wrapped up in his endeavor for coin," Yennefer suggested helpfully, meeting the troubadour's gaze with silent determination.
Given Dandelion's exhaustion it took him a few long seconds to get the message.
"Right," he snapped, jumping from his chair, lacking any kind of subtlety. "I'll… leave you two to it."
And then he, too, was off.
Yennefer watched him go, grateful for his ability to reason the situation, and then focused on Geralt.
"You've been staying with us. With me."
Despite his wish to spend more time with the two of his friends, Yennefer's ability to blow the bard off his chair made Geralt smirk as he watched him retreat after the dwarf.
The Witcher turned to regard her, feeling a slight unease. It was getting a bit awkward to see some specific expectation in her eyes that he couldn't meet.
"Wouldn't it be… uncomfortable, given… well, what happened?" He sighed, thinking how to put it better. "I like you, Yennefer. Only a blind and foolish one wouldn't. But things you know about you and me and I don't seem to recall… anymore… I don't want you to end up hurt. Again."
"I appreciate your consideration and the fact that you're trying to nurse my heart, Geralt, but you've already broken it once in the fortnight."
She didn't have to explain how when he already knew. She reached for one of the tankards to check if there was any mead left and then conceded defeat.
"You should get some rest."
Geralt smirked. "So should you. Or do sorceresses never tire?"
"You think I came all this way to tell you that you needed to go to bed as if you were a child?" He wasn't that drunk yet and had missed the subtle invitation presented.
She rose up off her chair, moved toward the end of the table and extended a hand within his direction.
"Shall we retire?"
Geralt perked up an eyebrow, considering her, then threw a glance at where his friends laughed enjoying their cards game with Crach. He sighed and got up, taking her hand.
"We can play a couple hands of Gwent, too, if that's what you desire," she commented, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth as she guided him away from the crowd toward the exit. "Amongst other things."
"I'm not sure Gwent is the best way to have fun in your company, but if you insist…"
"Really?" she asked curiously, wondering if parts of what they used to do had come back to him at some point and if he'd recognized it. "What do you imagine is?"
"There's little that can outshine the day you decided to tame the djinn and almost failed."
"I didn't almost fail," she retorted cheekily. "If it hadn't been for you getting in my way and being unable to make your wish for riches, I'd have had him."
And then that would have been it. She wouldn't have had Geralt (or Ciri), although, technically, and in his newfound world she still didn't. None of it had made a difference.
"Like I've had you," she continued, flashing him a smirk. "In many, many ways."
Geralt gave her a look that was both ironic and perplexed. "I didn't get to make any wishes. I used the same trick I did before. And then you had me for a couple of hours."
"Huh?" Yennefer asked, using her free hand to stop him, to brace it against his chest so that she could focus. "What do you mean you didn't make a wish? What trick did you use before?"
Geralt peered at her incredulously. "You don't remember? I told him to… well, he wasn't happy to hear it the second time."
As soon as he said it, it dawned on her and she gave a light laugh. "And that was it? He just skittered off into the abyss. He didn't try to kill me? You didn't say anything else to make him stop?"
"There was no time to invent anything new. He'd kill you and everyone else in that town."
Yennefer nodded lightly, squeezed his hand and continued walking down the stairs. "Noble. When last have you seen a Djinn?"
"People don't usually mess with them, therefore I get no such contracts."
And yet, the one person who did had brought him in contact with it twice and cost herself pretty big the final time. However, despite what it had cost her and the more time passed, the less she regretted the decision. It never would have worked otherwise and she doubted their relationship or Yennefer herself inside of it would have reached this point of self-assured acceptance.
"What'd you think of what Ciri told you about Avallac'h?"
His pace slowed when she asked it coaxing his mind back to the horrid things Ciri had told him.
Geralt approached the wall looking down at the dark waters of the bay.
"She told you everything? Then - if you know me so well - you probably know what I think."
Yennefer moved to stand next to him at the wall, leaning her elbows onto the stone that acted as a barrier, inhaling deeply the cold air and its refreshing quality.
"I do, but that's not what I was asking. What do you think of Ciri? After everything, do you think she's in the right frame of mind to be making a judgement like this? Fear can be a pretty big trap. Unless we actually learn more about him personally, we're not going to know how to fully protect her."
It was so damn strange to be discussing such deeply personal matter with a woman he met three times in his life, and trusting all of their judgements about their supposed closeness wasn't coming all that easy.
Frowning, the Witcher tried to overcome the barrier and felt the efforts were tiring.
"I… I don't believe her frame of mind is fully capable of producing the right logic. Her views have been altered by things she went through, and fixing it will be enormously difficult. She's all grown now, her mind hardened in the wrong shape."
"So how do we un-shape it and push it in the right direction?"
Yennefer had been there for her as much as she could, but if she could hardly do for herself emotionally, how could she possibly be there in the way that Ciri needed in order to heal?
"How can we even try without making her run from us? Is there even such a way?"
She certainly didn't want to lose the girl again.
His face hardened, eyes narrowing on the semi-circle of the rising moon. "There has to be, and I will find it. But first thing's first: those pursuers have to go. And then I'll see what I can do about her pain."
How long before we get rid of those pursuers, though? How long before this nightmare starts to see a clearer picture for her? What if this went on another two years? Yennefer cringed at the thought, at that failure and the fact that she had no other way in which to even begin to help Ciri right now – today. But she appreciated his determination, the look in his eyes and everything in-between, it made her wonder why she'd ever doubted his sincerity before, why she'd been so scared of it before when all she wanted now was to embrace it – to embrace him.
"And in the meantime, what do I do about you?"
Geralt turned to her with a look of ironic curiosity. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means – do you want to go back to the unknown or are you finally happy?"
As much as the thought disturbed her, Yennefer had to admit she was curious. If they'd never met, if he'd never made that wish, what did his life look like without her? Would she have been worse than what she was? Would she ever have reached a point in her life where love might even have been a consideration, or would still have sat on the side-lines with Istredd playing at all the things that could never be between them.
Geralt regarded her face in the moonlight that made her skin seem to give off a silvery shine of its own. He thought about her question a moment, studying her face that was familiar but not the way she had been implying all this time.
"How can you want or not want something unknown, Yennefer? It's unknown. As for happy, I'm not sure a witcher is fully acquainted with what that feels like."
"Pretty sure that you do. Did."
Especially when they'd finally managed to find Ciri. Despite all they'd shared together and the moments that had come close, nothing could have outdone that feeling of finally seeing their child after two years of searching. At least not yet. Yennefer had hoped that with her feelings more open that might have changed but she had unwittingly driven it in the opposite direction and restarted it.
"You're aware this isn't the first time you've lost your memory?"
Geralt sighed. "I am. But 'this time' doesn't feel the same way. I don't know what I'm missing whereas before I knew I had black holes of what I couldn't recollect."
Apart from her, Yennefer didn't know what else he was been missing, either. She didn't see any fundamental changes in his personality and he remembered what was important.
Ciri.
Perhaps she should have spoken to Dandelion and seen what he knew was missing since he'd spoken to Geralt to get him back here and would have noticed a difference – if there was one.
And yet, deep down, Yennefer knew that would be fruitless, that nothing had changed in those ways as he'd already told her and that she was, in fact, the only thing he lacked.
She swallowed and studied one of the ships below in port.
"Are you heading back to Novigrad? Or will you be enjoying the remaining days of the festivities?"
The Witcher shrugged and followed her gaze to the ships below. "I came for Ciri, so it's up to her when she wants to leave."
He peeked at her with a strange mixture of faint guilt and curiosity.
"What about you?"
Yennefer considered upon the initial 'nothing' to escape, that it would be easier on all of them – especially her – but she grasped now that she would be just giving up and opening the door to seclusion.
She didn't want that.
Never again.
They didn't have the best of relationship, hell, it was downright rock-strewn at best, but they still understood one another and despite it all always found their way back.
Would it happen a third time if she were to step back? To do the right thing? Was that even the right thing? Was she even capable of doing it if she had to?
Yesterday it hadn't felt like it and the idea had been downright crippling.
Even now.
"I'll be going with you. With Ciri."
She smiled slightly to let him know that she was expecting anything else, although, in all honesty, every part of her wanted to drag him into a quiet corner and fuck him into submission.
Maybe he'd even remember.
It still amazed him - the contrast between the Yennefer he knew and this one that he was supposed to love. The one he knew excited him, drove him from marvel to anger and back within few moments; with all the anger she inserted in him with her jinx back in the day, Geralt still wanted to save her even if he died in the process.
He only now realized how he never questioned that urge nor tried to dissect it. He merely accepted the fact. Now that her eyes regarded him with an utterly different emotion than he remembered, it occurred to him that there could have been something else.
Something more.
Geralt raised a hand and stroked a finger down her cheek, so smooth, velvet-like and cool from the winds.
"I still have the black holes in my memory from the hunt," he said quietly, eyes locked on hers. "If what you and I had is buried in such hole, I don't think it will come back on its own. Nor do I know what to do about it."
His touch had been unexpected but no less welcome than it always had been, immediately igniting heat and a wanton desire to lose herself in his body.
And something else that had never been present in their physical instances.
Sadness.
Despite the many times she had already kissed him and the fact that he'd returned the care, she hadn't expected him to touch her now without anything but remorseful reservation.
Only, she didn't see that in his eyes now.
"Neither do I," she mused seriously, setting a hand on his armor-covered chest, tentatively invading his space. "Do I spare you the heartache and rediscovery of our once tremulous relationship or do I finally free you so you can find someone more deserving of your devotion?"
A ghost of confusion swept through his gaze. "My kind's not meant to devote oneself to anything but work. What happened with you must have been—"
('Destiny is not enough... There should be something more...')
"… It must have been something special. A fluke in time and space and fate."
She had heard that, known that it was what people believed, but nothing Geralt had ever shared with her had every made her think that was true.
He'd always contradicted that.
Which was why, despite his own disbeliefs and the way he aired them, it had been so hard to let go, to not be drawn to him whenever they were in a close proximity.
"It was," she agreed in a murmur, unable to control the emotions as she leaned into him and brushed her nose against his neck, lightly caressing a spot she had kissed many times over. "I was a fool. A self-regarding imbecile. If I'd managed to accept it as certainty sooner then you wouldn't be looking at me as if I were a stranger or as if you hardly understand how it's possible. We'd just be. As we've always been."
Her eyes trained on him, the way she leaned in and enveloped him in that scent that moved something deep inside him Geralt didn't even know he had, the way she spoke with that new, calm and sensitive tone he didn't really recall her using with anyone before made him feel he was missing something important.
"I want to remember," he murmured into her fragrant raven locks. "I don't know how."
And she wanted him to remember, to make it so that he'd never forget for the fourth time and that any magic that was ever forced between them would never sink their hooks in him again.
Her grip tightened on his armor, clawing at it with the same determination and longing as she felt on the inside, at the hope that if they copulated at least once more than it would be enough and that it would shatter this veil that had come down over his eyes.
That stole him from her.
That she'd allowed to happen because she didn't know how to control her own rooted insecurities.
Yennefer loosened her grip with one hand, fingers twitching, eyes blazing a temporary neon violet, gold swallowing the both of them and instant later until they were deposited elsewhere.
She knew he wouldn't appreciate the dramatics of a portal, but given the privacy needed and the searing urgency she had to have him inside her, Yennefer hadn't even considered another option.
Where they appeared was in the castle, upstairs, in old King's bed chambers.
She used the portal on them so quickly and sneakily that Geralt barely registered the reason why his innards flipped making his head foggy. There was something hard propping the backs of his knees and next moment he fell back on the bed. The chamber was dark, but the moonlight seeping through the window was perfectly enough for him.
"I'm pretty sure we're not allowed here," he reprimanded, undoing the laces on her corset while her fingers tugged at the straps of his jacket.
"As if that ever stopped us before."
Not that he'd remember that or that it even mattered.
Yennefer captured his lips in a kiss, pushing his jacket from his upper body, dragging it to the floor beside their feet before hastily busying herself with the belt around his waist.
The urgency in her fingers pulling the belt open and her hardened nipples beneath his fingerpads and the thin fabric of her shirt, her scent all around him cast everything else away.
Her lips grew more demanding along with her hands. The bandaged side stung, but it was in another world, far away.
Yennefer dragged the belt and its lethal trinkets to the floor, deepening the kiss, sweeping her tongue into his mouth in preparation of temporarily parting.
As if she needed the physical token for sanity sake.
When she drew back, she motioned to her shoes with a crook of her index finger, shedding the material from her feet as if they'd been nothing but an assortment of gathered stars.
She didn't want to bother with the laces.
She repeated the process with her pants and the accompanied underwear.
His hands roamed her naked back, drawing her closer against him while their lips found each other again. Geralt felt her heart thrash against his chest, accelerating his own pulse in some kind of a strange excitement as if anticipating something unique, something his body remembered but his mind did not.
Yennefer circled her arms around his neck as he drew him closer, exploring his mouth again, enjoying the act of kissing him as if it were the first time and of being able to taste him.
A night ago she had been convinced it wouldn't happen again, that she had finally pushed it too far.
With one hand she clawed at his shoulders and hoisted herself onto his lap so that she could straddle him, rolling her hips, grinding against him in anticipation of their joining.
Their breath ragged, they couldn't get enough of each other's lips barely minding to take in any air. Her hair spilled around her shoulders in an unruly aura speckled with silver sparks from the moonlight outlining her silhouette. His fingers traveled across her heated soft skin, his lips explored the column of her neck, grazing her skin with teeth in growing impatience.
Kissing Geralt filled her with a renewed sense of life and inspiration, over shining even the magic that she had been harboring for near on a century and its every belief.
She marveled at the newness of the perception, of being able to accept their love for what it was and indulging in it without hesitation.
The internalized fear hadn't dissipated though, deceived by the fact that his lips moved against her own as if he knew her, as if he'd sensed what she liked and had been doing it for years.
Yennefer slid her hand into his silvery hair, tugging at the soft locks, massaging in turn the more passionate they became until the liquid heat between her thighs ached for more.
She broke their kiss and struggled for breath, reaching between their bodies, freeing him of his breeches, using her right hand to steadily work his cock to hardness.
A comber of pleasure thrust through him, and his patience dissolved beneath her demanding hand. Geralt wrapped his own around her throat and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her; a smirk touched his lips as he noticed her eyes widen up at him in the dark.
"Teasing yourself," he murmured. "Your patience astounds me."
Yennefer stared up at him with hunger filled delight, the hand that had been settled around his cock coming to rest on his hip while the other had steadied on the back of his neck.
"It wasn't about patience," she mused, raising her knees beside his hips, sliding her legs around his waist, hooking her heels against his backside to draw him closer and down to where she most needed him. "It's about the value of preparation."
She shifted the hand from his neck to his chin, raising herself slightly to once more capture his lips.
Their lips met, and so did their hips, coming together with a thrust of his. She moaned into their kiss, sending a shiver down his spine as he began to set a pace.
Her body ignited as soon as he slid into her, legs tight around his waist as they fell into an easy and natural rhythm, bodies seeking and working like they always did.
When the intensity became too much and threatened to overwhelm her, she broke the kiss, bringing involuntary and uncharacteristic tears to her eyes, struggling between her moans to catch her breath.
Trying to control it, Yennefer closed a hand around his throat possessively, making sure he kept eye contact with her as they rocked together, seeking recognition in his pleasure-filled gaze, and more importantly a sign to suggest that he was feeling things as intensely as she was.
She was trying to make out his face in the dark, Geralt was sure, but for him Yennefer's was visible in detail. Her eyes were gleaming as if tears welled up there. There was more vulnerability, much more than what he had encountered in their first time. Once again, it occurred to him she would get hurt in the end of this affair if his memory was gone.
Their rhythm became more frantic the closer they got to the finish line they both craved. He leaned in to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder when the wave of thrilling pleasure rushed through him reverberating in every nerve. He closed his eyes taking it all in and relishing in the blinding ecstasy her body brought, bathing in the scent that lured him so unexplainably.
The hand on his throat weakened as the first traces of their culmination began to sweep through Yennefer, causing a sequence of white sparks and stars to dance in front of her eyes until they squeezed shut and she was nothing more than a feeble prisoner trapped in the flame of fulfilment.
With his face buried in the crook of her neck, panting softly as he recovered from the exertion, her arms had snaked their way around him, nails gripping him to her as if she dreaded he'd try to break away.
It didn't hurt, she knew, it couldn't possibly – nothing could – not like it had.
When the nervousness endeavored to anchor its hold, she fought against it, using the opportunity and rush of despairing strength to flip them over.
A swift motion of her right hand and the candles she knew were strewn around the room had ignited on their holders, presenting her an unopposed and studious view of his features. He looked contented, his forehead dotted with sweat, her thumb and forefinger brushing at his brow and the scar that adorned the side of his face with gentle scrutiny.
Scared of speaking for the first time in a very long time or of probing his mind for the answer, of asking if something had changed when she knew it hadn't, and the inkling crippled her with sorrow.
He didn't fight her for dominance and relaxed beneath her as she lit the candles. He squinted against the initial brightness, getting accustomed to it, and feasted his eyes on her perfect naked shapes.
Her eyes were searching him once again through the tresses of tussled black hair, and he didn't know what to tell her or even whether he had to confirm the lack of any changes she might be hoping for.
Instead he pulled her gently down to him for a kiss.
Yielding to the obvious, she let him draw her down, capturing his lips with equal measures of what she now knew could be considered love and acceptance.
If this was all she'd get for the rest of their lives (apart or together), then so be it, it's not as if she merited more considering her own comparable naivety in the past. The more she dissected their situation, where Geralt was concerned, she realized she was outstanding at self-sabotage. She had just never recognized it, never realized how far she had pushed the limits of their relationship until their last djinn occurrence. He'd always been enduring, tolerant of her difference of opinion, until he no longer was, and she no longer knew what to do or how to keep herself submerged.
Yennefer deepened the kiss, trying to shut the sickly thoughts from her head, to take as much of him as she could, while she could, until eventually drawing back to catch her breath again, fingers crawling their way down his abdomen to come to rest on the bandage, to check if she hadn't disturbed it much.
"You'll sleep with Ciri and me tonight."
Geralt let out a long, relaxing sigh and pulled her down to lie beside him. "I don't want to leave her alone for long, but… nor do I want to leave here… now…"
Her palm flattened against his chest lightly as she eased into the crook of his arm and onto her side, resting her head on his shoulder. "Then we'll stay."
Another motion of her hand and she shifted one of the chairs within the room to behind the door—to act as an alarm should Crach return at some point to recharge—and doused the candles.
It wasn't long before she drifted to sleep.
They slept snuggled together. When he woke, it was still dark, but the moon was already leaving the sky.
He gently woke her so she could move them back to the inn. Ciri was sleeping like an angel and didn't stir when they arrived. Yennefer lay down beside her and Geralt spread a couple of furs on the floor. As soon as he was down, sleep took him.
Ciri hadn't expected to sleep through the whole night. She so rarely did anymore as her mind was plagued with nightmares and hauntings. The latter was Eredin's work. He'd been visiting her when she slept ever since she escaped Tir Na Lia six years ago. Sometimes he even came when she was awake, in spirit form. He came to taunt and threaten and seduce. Making damned sure Ciri would never forget he'd eventually capture her. As if she could ever forget…
And the nightmares, they were not of the elves. They were of her own kind. People she had met in the past, people who had made it their life's mission to use her, torment her, kill her. Sometimes all three.
The only nightmare that no longer played on repeat as it had done when she was a child, was Cahir. The Knight with the winged helmet. She had been so terrified of his image as a child. And everyone had told her it was just a dream, not knowing how her nightmare was rooted in reality. Even Geralt, at some point. Until he'd met Cahir himself and heard the truth.
And the truth had been… complicated. All she had remembered, and still did, was a Black Knight picking her up from the massacre of Cintra, who stole her away while she passed out, and when she awoke she was naked and he was touching her…
It had been explained to her that Cahir's intentions, once foul, had not been to harm her. But to protect. He had told Geralt so himself when he joined the Witcher's company to find her.
Even so, when he died she felt… relief. And the nightmares of his horrid helmet had faded, slowly but surely, to be replaced with others. More recent.
But that night it had neither been Eredin, Bonhart, or Cahir who had visited her dreams, but rather a stranger. A stranger who, even though she was certain she had never seen before, felt familiar. She hadn't even truly seen his face, only the silhouette of his body and a tuft of fair hair. The same color as hers. The dream hadn't invoked fear, nor happiness. Only curiosity. And she could not for the life of her understand why.
When she woke, the sun was peeking in through the windows. She found Yennefer in bed beside her and once Ciri rolled over onto her side, she saw Geralt asleep on the floor. He was here. With them. With Yennefer. Did that mean…?
Ciri leaned down over him and prodded the Witcher's chest, several times because, despite his superior reflexes, he currently seemed too sleepy to make use of them. "Oy," she whispered, giving him an extra prod for good measure. "Wake up."
He heard the movement on the bed, but hoped they wouldn't decide to get up just yet. He had to attempt at least another hour.
It wasn't happening.
He groaned in meek protest and pried one eye open.
"Who taught you to be so cruel?"
"Lambert," she grinned, peering down at him. "You're here! And shirtless! Does that mean you and Yennefer…?" She threw a quick look over her shoulder at the said sorceress. "Are you back together?"
Dumbfounded, he looked down at himself and realized why it was so chilly. His shirt and jacket lay on a huge chest at the wall. Good thing his pants were on. Morning-tight, too.
He sat up with effort, rubbing his face. "I don't remember what you two know, Ciri. So... I don't know."
"But… you're here," she repeated, brow creased in a slight frown as she whispered.] "With her!"
Geralt looked at her, both amused and incredulous. "I was with Zoltan and Dandelion last night. We're friends. We're all trying to help you and resolve our problems."
"And yet, you didn't sleep next to Zoltan and Dandelion, did you?" she pointed out, hopeful.
She threw another look at Yen who was still asleep before slipping out of bed on nimble feet, searching for her boots. "Let's get some breakfast. I'm starving."
The Witcher got up and put the shirt on. "I slept on the floor," he pointed out with unnecessary stubbornness. "Not next to her."
He buckled up the leather straps of his jacket and headed for the door.
A group of sailors - already drunk - conversed at one of the tables. The innkeeper was roasting rabbits and smirking as he listened.
"I swear to ye, t'was no ploughin' siren!" cried out one of them in tired frustration. "T'was a ploughin' dragon!"
"No dragons 'ere for a long time," the other one announced dismissively. "Ye had too much mead."
"I went to take a piss, ye ploughin' fool! Not a drop in me from whole night! The sun barely ready to rise and that ploughin' thing flyin' screechin'. I swear all sirens blew away from the sea savin' their hides!"
His mates laughed, refilling his mug.
"We sail out next morn, so we'll see where's your ploughin' dragon then."
The innkeeper chuckled to himself quietly turning the meat over the fire. He saw the two and nodded.
"Good morn to ye."
Ciri's excitement about Yennefer and Geralt was briefly pushed aside at the tale of a dragon having been spotted in Skellige. A wyvern, perhaps? Though they rarely travelled this far north.
She tore her gaze away from the sailors and smiled pleasantly at the innkeep. "Good morning. Any breakfast up for grabs?"
He nodded. "Aye. The wife's pullin' the bread from the oven as we speak, and I slaughtered a pig last night. Still some good meat left. Ye fancy eggs as well?"
"Yes, please," she said without waiting for Geralt's input. "And some tea, please."
"Ye can neigh like horses as much as ye like," the offended sailor said getting up on shaky legs. "And then they never find yer darn bones. I'll ask our queen to get us a witcha 'cause I'm not going into that sea until the ploughin' dragon's gone and I see the ploughin' head. And ye just wait: when he's done with the sirens, he's comin for yer stupid arses."
Staggering, he headed for the door. His friends drank and laughed.
Geralt smirked shaking his head.
They both followed the offended individual with their gazes until he was out the door. His friends didn't seem particularly intent on soothing his nerves, nor apologizing for laughing at his fear. Which made them awful friends, in Ciri's opinion.
She pushed away from the bar counter and headed for a free table near the fireplace, taking a seat. "So? Anything exciting happen last night?"
"A few Gwent rounds with the guys and then we went to the Inn," he said and shrugged. "I think they continued playing with Crach. You slept well? No nightmares?"
"Nightmares?" She scoffed softly with a disarming smile. "I'm not twelve anymore, Geralt."
Nor did she want him to see her that way. She did not want to be the child who needed constant protection. No matter how good it had made her feel to know he would always take care of her. "I slept fine. Must be the bed. I far prefer them to the forest floor."
"When you're right, you're right," he smiled, studying her furtively. He had his doubts. "I do have nightmares, too. It's not a children thing. No need to be ashamed. It happens."
Ciri tilted her head to the side, meeting his gaze. "What are your nightmares about?"
"Different things. Monsters… Failed contracts as I miss the fatal blows of fangs or claws or talons and feel the heat of blood soaking my clothes… Or you - like you're in danger or dying and I can't help. Those are by far the worst I've ever had."
She wondered if those nightmares – the ones of her – were his imagination or true visions of what had happened. Or perhaps what would come to be... "You always help," she said with a small smile. "You gave me the ability to fight. To protect myself."
Geralt smiled sadly. "It never feels like I've done enough in that area, Ciri. I don't think it ever will. I'll always want to do more and then some."
"What more could you have done?" she asked, a slight note of humor in her voice now. "Sewn wings on my back and pillows under my feet?"
He chuckled softly. "Nice ideas, albeit late ones."
Ciri shrugged and leaned back in her seat, drawing her elbows off the table when the innkeeper brought their food. He put the tray down heavily and left them to help themselves. "Are you returning to Novigrad for more contracts?"
"We'll have to gather more allies and find ways to effectively fight back the Wild Hunt. I don't think there's time for any new contracts."
He filled his mug and took a gulp.
"Avallac'h shared any plans?"
"I think he wants to ask Mousesack for a possible alliance." Ciri paused, filling her own mug and setting the teapot aside. "We are going to Novigrad together, yes?"
"It might be the best for you to stay here for now. Safer that way. We will be back shortly."
Her gaze froze on him and she felt disappointment clutch at her stomach. "Safer for me? Or for Novigrad?" she asked softly, eventually looking away. "Yen won't be able to take you all. And the docks are still closed for the feasts."
"Safer for you, Ciri. You are my focus. And don't worry, I'm sure we'll manage."
Childish petulance rose within her like boiling water. Ciri wanted to whine. And complain. And tell him he wasn't allowed to leave again.
But she didn't. She tried to shove those unhelpful emotions deep, deep down. And managed. Somehow.
Gods, maybe Avallac'hs training was starting to help? He could never find out. He'd be insufferable.
She reached for the plate of meat and bread, arranging a sandwich for herself in absolute silence.
"I don't want to leave you, Ciri," Geralt said, reading her imperceptible expressions. "But we have to play it all as safe for you as possible. We are buying time and it's important to keep you hidden and quiet."
"Hidden and quiet. Just like every other day of my life," she commented sourly, then sighed, looking to meet his gaze again. "Apologies, Geralt. It is not your fault. I know this. I just… I grow weary."
He smiled, recalling her dragging her feet around Kaer Morhen's keep when she couldn't train. "I know. We all do. But hopefully it shall serve us well."
"Morn to ye," Zoltan approached and settled next to Ciri. "That useless bard's impossible to wake at this hour. Ye slept good? We did but not long. Some stupid-ass sailor, drunk as a goose, came about yelling there's a dragon snatching babes and women. That we all had to gather an army. Everybody had a laugh but the old druid grew all grey and stormy and left with the poor bastard." The dwarf chortled, pouring himself a drink.
Ciri looked between the two. They did not seem concerned in the least.
She found that odd. Witness accounts of monsters usually did not go unanswered. Especially by a witcher. No matter how ridiculous they sounded.
She ate in silence for a minute, deep in thought and busy chewing when the door opened anew and Avallac'h stepped inside. He looked so out of sorts here it was almost comical.
When his gaze landed on their table, he strode towards them, robes swishing behind him, the sound of his boots non-existent.
"Zireael," he greeted monotonously. "I need a word."
She watched him, still silent and still chewing until she realized he wanted a private moment.
"Oh," she said, swallowing and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Alright."
He moved ahead of her towards a lone table close to the kitchen, one where they could not easily be overheard.
"I hoped I would find you before you indulged in spirits again."
She couldn't be certain, but she thought that might have been Avallac'hs attempt at a joke. "Just in time."
He stared at her with that unreadable expression of his before reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a silver bracelet set with a green stone, letting it dangle off his index finger.
Ciri gasped and reached for it, almost reverently. "You fixed it?"
"I've had some time," he said nonchalantly, lowering his arm again, watching her as she watched the bracelet. "Zireael."
"Mhmm?"
"Do not get your hopes up. It has been years since you last saw that mare. She may not be here anymore."
"I won't," she promised, already brimming with hope. "Help me put it on."
Unlike the previous morning, opening her eyes had been less of a chore this time and Yennefer felt relaxed. Ciri and Geralt were nowhere in sight but she knew they were fine. The sorceress rolled over onto her side, running a hand across the top of the covers were Ciri had slept before, and then speared a look at the floor where Geralt had made himself comfortable after their return. She'd intended to squeeze him between them, to limit his discomfort but the warrior in him was too prevalent to care about such trivial business. An excuse at that, too.
She eased into a sitting position, combed a hand through her hair and then walked over to the vanity to check the damage to her appearance before stripping off her clothes and climbing into the bath.
She'd have asked for someone to take the time to fill it, but she couldn't be bothered to wait, and like the night before, she made quick use of her magic, cleansing herself as much as she could of that despairing feeling of loss so they could start fresh.
Zoltan and Geralt exchanged meaningful glances and watched the two converse.
"He givin' er trinkets now?" the dwarf grumbled.
"Not that kind, as far as I know."
"The lass' all grown, Geralt, and now ye never know." He drank pensively, eyeballing them askance. "Ye leaving soon? We ought to gather our forces and assess."
"True. And as soon as possible."
"Have you talked to Mousesack yet?" Ciri asked, watching the bracelet sparkle around her wrist before she covered it with a sleeve.
"No. The druid is proving to be elusive. What of your… friends?" Avallac'h glanced briefly in Geralt and Zoltan's direction. "Another day of drinking and whoring? They do not seem to understand what is at stake."
"They know," she responded firmly. "And I was just told they will be going to Novigrad to gather potential allies there."
Avallac'h looked impressed and pleased. It only lasted for a second before his pale blue eyes settled on her again. "You are not going." It was not a question.
She clenched her jaw and stared daggers at the ridiculously tall elf. "I know."
By the time Yennefer emerged from their chambers, she was lighter on her feet, make-up reapplied, and headed for the main hall in search of breakfast and the rest of her family.
It didn't take long to find them or to see that one of them had broken off to talk to the elf.
While they conversed, she busied herself with probing his mind, wincing slightly as she walked toward Geralt, annoyed that the mere gesture appeared to be blocked by the strength of the Elf's magic.
She knew she could break through it if given a real chance to do so, but she hadn't wanted to make him privy to her attempt or add to Ciri's distress from the day before.
"Today?" she asked, easing onto the chair beside Geralt, gazing at the two men in turn. "You're heading back to Novigrad?"
"We're yet to decide our plan of action."
"Yer plan of action is to gather any help available," Zoltan said. "What of yer magic friends, Yennefer? Anyone other than Merigold would help?"
"Help Ciri, you mean? Doubtful. The Lodge isn't exactly open to doing favors for nothing and I'm not on the best of terms with them. There might be a few mages I can contact—"
Some indebted, others that could be bent, but she couldn't be sure that would even work or that she wanted them dealing with the delicacy of their situation when she couldn't trust them.
Yennefer could hardly trust those that she did classify as friends.
"You've already sent for Triss?" she asked, question she directed at Geralt as if she'd imagined it might have been the first thing he did upon waking.
"She knows we're meant to pick our field for battle and then take a stand. She's waiting for invitation and searching for those willing to help, too. Isn't it what you two agreed on before we left Kaer Morhen?"
Yennefer studied the Witcher, confused, wondering how he'd known that was even a possibility when he'd hardly remembered her a day ago.
She sucked in a breath, hating herself for being too hopeful, assuming that Zoltan had probably filled him in or Dandelion if they even knew she'd been scrubbed from his mind.
"Right."
"Do you want to sit with us and have breakfast?" Ciri asked the elf. Geralt had taught her to be polite and to show hospitality, after all.
Avallac'h shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No. Come to my rooms for your training once you finish. No more breaks."
He turned and sashayed out of the room with the quiet grace only an elf could, the door closing behind him.
She returned to the table, greeted Yen with a kiss to the cheek, and found her seat again, reclaiming her sandwich.
Yennefer sat back in her chair, smiling at Ciri once she came to join them again.
"Before we start recruiting any outsiders, we might want to work on a more proficient plan. I need to know who we need. Kaer Morhen would have been perfect for its defenses. Three to four mages and we could have covered it in its entirety."
"Yes, now that the Hunt has probably been to check it, Kaer Morhen must be available for us once again. I wouldn't expect them setting a trap there or waiting in ambush. As far as I know they can't stay for long in one place, can they? Mousesack will help us, so will Triss. And Yennefer. That makes three. Triss said Philippa would probably agree if we helped her resolve her issues with Dijkstra and King Radovid. I'm willing to try this."
Ciri flinched at the mention of Philippa, though said nothing. It had been years since she'd last seen the woman. Ciri did not care for her or the sorceress's plans for her back then. She doubted much had changed.
But she was no fool. She knew they needed the help of capable sorceresses. And other than Yennefer, the women of the Lodge were the best. "Resolve her issues with King Radovid? The king who puts all magic users on the pyre?" She looked between Geralt and Yennefer. "You cannot get involved with him. It is suicide."
Yennefer made a mental note of their numbers, who she assumed was on their side and what could be, and then nodded slowly as she absorbed it all. Triss was right about Philippa.
"I'll help you with Philippa."
Yennefer knew there wasn't much time, but it was an issue that needed to be dealt with, not just for Philippa, but for all Mages, everyone that had ended up tied to those pyres and could in future.
"But there possible another two names we could add to that list. Margarita. Fringilla."
Geralt nodded in agreement with Yennefer, so did Zoltan.
"There's not much choice left by now, lassy," the dwarf said, scratching his beard. "We'll be there to help if needed and to make sure it goes well. Don' worry yerself. Not the first time."
"We won't be doing it alone, Ciri," Geralt added. "There's quite a few people wishing to deal with Radovid, and we are just pitching in. Zoltan's right, don't worry."
"And when you say deal with, you mean assassinate?" Ciri asked, not at all reassured and terrified they'd soon find themselves on one of those pyres.
She tried to breathe easy, to stay calm and even utilized a few of the techniques Avallac'h had instilled in her. Then she turned to Yennefer. "Are you sure Philippa is worth it?"
"She is," the sorceress affirmed, reaching across the table to gently place her hand over Ciri's. "I know you're cautious of Philippa and her motives. With good reason. But she's powerful and on our side, against the wild hunt, she'd be a formidable ally. We need those to spare."
Geralt finished his meal and pushed the plate away, washing it down with the final gulp of herbal tea.
"Any other mages aside that Phillipa?" Zoltan inquired, eyeing Yennefer. "Or she brings friends?"
Ciri didn't like it but didn't argue, either. How could she? "Margarita and Fingilla," she said in response to Zoltan's question, repeating what Yennefer herself had said earlier. "That leaves five. Six if we count Avallac'h. He has magic of his own."
Yennefer smiled. "That should be enough."
They were all powerful in their own right and although Yennefer didn't trust them on a personal level – that wasn't what she wanted from them.
"We should go as soon as everyone's fed."
She hadn't seen Dandelion anywhere in the vicinity of the inn.
"Where's the troubadour?"
"Barfin around the docks somewhere," Zoltan shrugged. "Or moanin as those good lasses are takin care of 'im. Too much mead even for the artist." He chuckled and lilted out his tea. "He's going to be fine when it's time to go. Just give us a whistle. I'm gonna go try find the druid – if we are going back today. Are we?"
"I suppose we better do things faster at this point," Geralt said. "So yes. We have to depart today."
"Very well," Zoltan nodded and went for the door.
The thought that they were all leaving was horribly depressing. Ciri poked at the sad remains of her sandwich, praying she wasn't going to cry once they had to say goodbyes.
Though perhaps it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later. It was going to be just Avallac'h and her again.
She cleared her throat and rose to her feet. "I should go. Avallac'h is waiting."
"Ciri," Yennefer said, sliding out of her chair, meaning to catch her before she could run away. The sorceress pulled her into a hug, gently sweeping a hand over her hair in a way Yennefer had done many times over in the years. "We're going to be fine. You're going to be fine."
Ciri let Yennefer catch her without resistance and leaned into her embrace, muttering into her dark curls. "Not me I am worried about. I only just got you back. I can't lose you again. I won't survive it."
Geralt wanted to stop the girl for a moment, seeing she was upset to see them go again, but he let Yennefer take her moment this time. Perhaps there was something she could tell to get through to Ciri now that she needed it. He got up from the table and stood near, nevertheless.
Yennefer tightened her hold on Ciri, comfortingly stroking her back, trying as best she could to soothe the girl although the sorceress had no way in which to really predict the outcome of what they were going to do. But that wasn't what scared Yennefer. What she feared was losing Ciri and Geralt. "And I am worried about you. Neither Geralt nor I can lose you." She glanced back at him when she sensed him getting up as well, a kind of shared understanding that he was free to speak up. "Not again."
"If you get stuck," Ciri began, "send me a sign. I will come get you." She didn't care if it would alert Eredin to her presence. "Promise me. You must promise."
"Ciri," Geralt said, stepping forth and next to Yennefer, his hand coming to rest on Ciri's shoulder squeezing. "I promise we will come back to you in one piece. If something goes wrong, we shall seek any help available to fulfill that promise. All right?"
"Okay," Ciri replied after a moment's contemplation, feeling very much like the little girl she had worked so hard to leave behind.
She hugged Yennefer once more and went for Geralt next.
"I love you both." That couldn't be said enough. Not for people like them.
"Geralt's right. Neither of us is looking at this as a suicide mission."
The sorceress brushed a stray strand behind her ear, uncaring that she'd grown so much and that she might not appreciate the continued coddling. Yennefer had been deprived of two years and had a lot to make up for.
"We'll be coming back. And we'll be coming back in one piece." A promise Yennefer added as a murmur, hugging Ciri back tightly. "I love you, too." Words that had become easier to manage over the last few days.
Ciri untangled herself from them, gave one last brave smile, and stepped out to find the elf.
Yennefer wanted Ciri to assure her that she wouldn't do anything reckless, that she wouldn't think about doing anything without them, but she'd already started to leave.
"Do you think she's going to be fine?"
Geralt sighed and began to walk for the door. "Other choices are not good enough for her or any of us, so she will try. She will fight to be all right."