When Yennefer finally woke, it was without interruption, and it was dawn. She could tell because the usual shadows had been chased from the corners of the bedroom and the candles that had been lit had burned down to their ends.
She sat up, pushing the blankets off her legs, freeing herself of the sheet that had tangled around her, and then carefully got to her feet.
Yennefer walked to the window, saw some people serving at the inn milling around below, and then went in search of her clothes.
She stepped into them, dismissing half of her usual morning routine of moisturizing, removing and reapplying the make-up that had smudged around her eyes.
It was rare that she was seen that way anymore.
By the time Yennefer slipped from Geralt's room, she looked the same as she always did—dressed in black and white, looking fabulous—and was more than ready to follow through with their plan. When she reached the main hall of the inn, no one in her little tribe was there, save for Dandelion and Priscilla who were talking and eating together, arguing about lyrics and the best way to tell of The Witcher's newest adventure.
Priscilla looked up as Yennefer approached, smiling despite the fact that she rarely paid her any mind while Dandelion appeared to focus more intently on his bowl.
"No one's up?"
Priscilla shook her head. "They returned in the wee hours."
Yennefer gave a hem of acknowledgement, allowing her gaze to drift to the male bard who was uncharacteristically quiet. Surprising, considering how eager he was for information on what had happened to them at the palace the day before. You'd think he'd want every perspective he could get.
"Are they well? Geralt never returned to his room."
Priscilla darted a look at Dandelion, refusing in turn to meet her eye now and from the energies coming off of him Yennefer could sense he was ready to flee.
He shot up from his seat.
"Excuse me, but I have a song I must attend to—"
Before he could register that Yennefer had done anything, he was sitting down again, confusion marring his features before a realization and dismay seeped in.
"You're hiding something, Troubadour."
"Why would I ever care—"
Yennefer speared him a bland look, probing at his mind and saw him cringe back, his hands gripping at his head dramatically as though he knew and was trying to prevent it.
"Because you care about Geralt and because if I'm reading your wailing thoughts correctly you're worried I'm going to skin him alive."
"You wouldn't."
No. But if he was eluding to what Yennefer thought he was trying to tell her…
"That wouldn't save you."
He flinched, his eyes darting from Yennefer's face to Priscilla as if to beseech his partner to help him.
"He's upstairs. He's with one of the other witches. Triss, I believe."
That shouldn't and didn't alarm Yennefer initially but with how they were acting, she was supposed to assume that whatever had happened had extended beyond talks of strategy.
"Is there any breakfast?"
Priscilla nodded, ever so helpful, and got to her feet, disappearing into the kitchens to collect of what she'd thrown together. Dandelion remained to look at Yennefer with something akin to pity and wonder.
Ciri didn't sleep, and when she thought she heard movement out in the hall, got off her bed and peered outside. No one was there, but it was possible Yennefer was awake. If she was up, they'd be leaving soon.
Ciri headed over to Kain's room and stepped inside, freezing in the doorway when she caught sight of Triss straddling a seemingly sleeping Kain.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Triss asked nonchalantly, stroking her hands lightly down his chest and stomach before slipping off him. She picked up the ointment jar off the table and showcased it to Ciri before closing it. "They need a good, enhanced rest, and I helped like I said I would."
"Sealed with a kiss, is it?" Ciri asked suspiciously, stepping out of the doorway.
Triss smiled in a confused fashion. "What is that supposed to mean, darling?"
"The way you look at him, the way you touch him... With a hunger. Like you do Geralt," Ciri remarked. "You fancy him?"
Triss frowned subtly, collecting her jar and vial from the table, then looked back at the sleeping man as if with a sort of wonder. When she met Ciri's gaze, her lips widened in a smile that was girlish, bubbly, as if they were back at Kaer Morhen, the two sisters gossiping about romance and dreams.
"Ah, Ciri, my love! I, like every other woman in the world of magic, fall a victim to beauty and charm. Who wouldn't fancy either of them? Would you judge me for having a certain taste?"
"If you act on it, knowing what you know – yes," Ciri said. "I see how it is with you, Geralt, and Yennefer. Him in the middle, you and Yennefer always at odds..."
Hurt came through Triss's features. "Geralt is a grown man capable of deciding for himself, and I hold no power over his choices. Nor anyone else's but my own. I haven't been anything but a friend for him. You have nothing to accuse me of this time, Ciri. I would never want either of them to be unhappy - let alone because of me. It would make me miserable. I love them both dearly and would give my life for each. And you, my love."
"And the same goes for him," Ciri said, gesturing to Kain. "He has every right to make his own choices. He will. So I am asking you, if you have similar… urges… towards him… to not act on them while you know how I feel. If you must, then please wait until I am no longer here to watch."
Triss studied her with a perfectly executed innocence of astonishment. "How would I know how you feel when you never told me? I do not venture with reading what doesn't lie in my own head when it comes to my closest people."
Ciri gave her a knowing look. "You do know. Hell, even Geralt has figured it out and he's usually blind as a bat when it comes to these things."
Triss blinked, looking stung once again. "But, Ciri, he spends way more time with you. And maybe you're more open with him - I haven't had the same honor. You didn't really answer my questions about him back at the keep, but rather denied my suggestions of romance. So has it changed? You love him now?"
"I... I feel for him. I like him so very much."
Love? That seemed too much too soon. Too big of an endeavor. Would Ciri even recognize such a feeling?
"And he knows. I told him."
"Oh, Ciri," Triss sighed with a smile simultaneously warm and sympathetic. "He said you weren't together, nor did he mention romance. I'm so very sorry if I misinterpreted his answer. I do not wish to stand between two happy hearts. I desire to find my own."
"We're not... happy hearts," Ciri murmured, frowning. "We're confused," she gestured to herself. "And completely avoiding the topic." A gesture in Kain's direction this time. "But I would really like to figure it out without a crowd of beautiful women throwing themselves at him."
Smiling, Triss wrapped her arms gently around Ciri, still holding her jar and vial in hands. "My precious Ciri, I would love so much for you to find your answers and happiness. I wish it for you with all my heart. But I wouldn't be your faithful sister had I not tell you the truth, however bitter, so you wouldn't be confused and mistaken: wherever he goes, there will always be heaps of beautiful women trying to claim his heart and body, for the same has been happening in his brother's life. He's too desirable for anyone to stay blind about it.
"Women of beauty and power, of storms and magic, sorceresses or queens... We may rule the world and kings' hands, Ciri. But we still don't always get chosen by those we want."
She kissed Ciri's cheek and strolled out of the room.
Ciri's arms were stiff at her sides as Triss hugged her, her courage and hope draining from her the more the sorceress spoke. Like it was a cause too impossible to even attempt.
She swallowed when Triss let her go, and trailed her with her gaze. I do hope one of those women won't be the one who considers me a sister, Ciri wanted to say but didn't. She let her go. And then Ciri left as well.
Some time later, when the sun had risen, Ciri headed downstairs and found Yennefer alone at a table having her breakfast.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, taking a seat opposite the sorceress, adjusting the sword strapped to her back.
"Why the rush, Sparrow?"
Yennefer could tell Ciri was angry, perhaps even a bit disappointed as her stance and energy was pure defensiveness. Probably not to dissimilar from Yennefer's own.
Ciri shrugged. "I'd like to get this over with so I can go back to fantasizing about driving my sword through The Hunt's cold hearts.
"As would I." Yennefer pushed aside the plate. "Would you not rather go with a full stomach?"
Ciri glanced towards the kitchens. "I'll take something to eat on the road. I've become quite skilled at it."
Yennefer nodded, got to her feet and cast a glance within the direction of the rooms. "Perhaps we should inform Geralt of our plans."
"I believe Triss has put both him and Kain to sleep. But if you wish..." Ciri gestured for her to go ahead, buckling the straps on her jerkin.
"And Kain?"
Triss was brazen. Yennefer had always known that about her.
"No bother. Let's go. We'll ride some of the way. We'll take your mare?"
"Can you get us out of the city gate without being detected?" Ciri asked, moving over to the bar counter and helping herself to a piece of bread, wrapping it in a cloth napkin and slipping it down the bag at her hip.
"Unfortunately, not undetected. I could disguise us. Temporarily."
Ciri paused to reconsider. "Perhaps best to let someone know we are leaving. In case trouble should strike." She wasn't sure if Emhyr would be able to confine her if he wished, but she did not want to find out. "Where is Dandelion?"
"He went to write his latest ballad."
Yennefer broke away from the table, scanning the area in search of the blonde.
"He must have taken his little bird with him. They were here. Outside?"
"Let us check."
They headed outside but neither Dandelion nor Priscilla were in immediate view. Ciri headed for the stable to ready Kelpie and leave her bag with her when she found the two kissing heavily in the saddle-room.
Ciri cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to capture their attention while waving Yennefer over. "Found them."
Yennefer trailed Ciri outside, into the stables, and then came to stand beside her, envying the couple locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace.
She raised a hand, gave the slightest motion of her hand and heard them yelp as they broke apart as if by a crazy gust of wind.
Dandelion looked startled and then annoyed. Priscilla appeared to have started the same way, her lips puffy from their kissing.
"Ciri and I are on our way to talk to the Emperor."
"Now?" Dandelion sputtered, swiping at his mouth.
"As good a time as any," Yennefer said, turning away from him, encouraging Ciri to get her Kelpie saddled and ready.
"Let Geralt and Kain know when they wake?" Ciri asked of him before turning to tend to Kelpie. "You're bringing a horse of your own, Yen?"
"Sure," Yennefer said.
She turned her focus on Dandelion and saw him flinch.
"You can't expect me—"
"I do."
"You've two capable hands of your own!"
Also Yennefer could tell he was somewhat uncomfortable as certain areas of his body had come alive during his time with Priscilla.
"It's your stable."
Yennefer turned away from him and moved to join Ciri while she waited for Dandelion to saddle a horse.
"You can't—"
Yennefer turned back and snapped her fingers, watching the blonde woman disappear from view, transformed into a scabby little toad. Dandelion's mouth gaped, his nose wrinkled with disgust while equally eager to make sure she didn't get away and angry. It would have been more satisfying had it been Triss.
"I suggest you hurry before I decide to keep her slimy until our return."
"Yennefer!" Ciri exclaimed, her eyes wide at her display of magic. "Priscilla is our friend, for goodness sake! Turn her back. I will saddle your horse."
Another snap of Yennefer's fingers and Priscilla appeared as she was. Only this time her expression was that of mystification.
Dandelion drifted to her side, taking a hold of her elbow, trying to make sure there wasn't any lasting effects that might have injured her.
"Thank you," Yennefer mused and regarded Ciri.
Ciri shook her head and finished with Kelpie so she could move on to Yennefer's horse.
"This may be why you rub people the wrong way," Ciri said, retrieving another saddle and placing it atop the horse's back. "You know, the threatening and then the... following through."
"Perhaps," Yennefer agreed. "If you don't follow through on your word people take liberties and tramp over you."
Like Triss.
Did she now know that he'd lost his memory? And why her sudden interest in the boy as anything more than a Ciri power replacement?
Yennefer had warned them, though, hadn't she?
Dandelion took Priscilla who was looking at the sorceress with interest, walking her back toward the inn to continue what they were doing privately.
"Maybe save it for someone other than our allies and friends," Ciri suggested, moving on to fix the bridle, silent until she finished. "What do you think will meet us in Vizima?"
"Maybe." But sometimes it was easier to take it out on your friends. "Stubbornness and entitlement. Are you ready to face off with Emhyr?"
"I am always ready for battle. I am simply not certain of my strategy yet."
Ciri led the horse to Yennefer and let her take the reins before returning to Kelpie so she could lead her outside as well.
Yennefer took the reins and fluidly hoisted herself into the saddle. "The ride will give you a little time."
She lured the horse to her side and wiggled her fingers in suggestion.
"Give me your hand."
Ciri watched her hand, bemused. "I can climb up on my own. It's alright."
"Your hand," Yennefer demanded, lips twitching slightly at her misinterpretation.
Ciri obeyed once she was straddling Kelpie, reaching out to place her hand in hers.
Yennefer closed her fingers around Ciri's, concentrating on what she could recall of the faces outside the fences and safety of the inn.
With a single utterance of an incantation and a push of magic, they were temporarily encased with a mask, one Yennefer knew they could see in each other and represented travelers.
"We don't have long before it wears off."
She hoped that it would get them far enough out of Novigrad and away. She wanted to save some of her strength for the ride and the palace itself.
Ciri urged Kelpie to move, Yennefer's warning not going unnoticed.
They made it past the guards with surprising ease and once they were out of sight and the glamour fell away, they set off at a quick pace, racing down the roads leading to Vizima.
Once the palace was seen in the near distance, Yennefer drew her horse to a stop and encouraged Ciri to do the same.
"This should be far enough."
"How far can you get us?" Ciri climbed off Kelpie and loosened her saddle and bridle, allowing her to wander and eat.
"All the way inside." Yennefer studied the palace. "Into his room."
Ciri stared at her. "There will be wards up, won't there?"
"Can we be sure?"
Yennefer brought her hands together, closed her eyes, trying to see ahead, trying to probe the outside of the walls that surrounded Vizima.
"Seems Geralt and Kain were exactly right. I can get us as far as the main hall."
"Alright," Ciri breathed. "Let us go see the Emperor."
Yennefer nodded and drew back for a moment, spearing Ciri with a look. "If even for a minute he tries to approach you, or anyone else – we leave."
Yennefer was not going to be overpowered and locked away again.
"I will get us out if necessary," Ciri nodded.
Yennefer fixed her with one more look, dreading returning to the man so soon but also wanting to look him in the eyes, to prove he couldn't hold her back.
She drew in a breath in preparation, wove her hands through the air, focusing on an image of the main hall and then brought forth the golden light to carry them in.
She waited until Ciri walked in ahead and then followed after.
Ciri stepped into the portal and appeared in the palace. The room was beautiful. Elegant, with its tall ceiling and columns, scattered with pretty people in pretty clothing chatting idly.
Most of them gasped the moment they saw them arrive, the women clutching their jewelry to their chests as though worried Ciri and Yennefer were going to steal it, while a few of the men placed themselves in front of them protectively. It wasn't long before the guards' attention was caught and they rushed towards the newcomers with swords drawn.
Ciri instantly drew her own weapon and declared loudly: "I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Heiress to the throne of Cintra, and I am here in response to Emperor Emhyr's decree I come see him."
Everyone paused, hesitated, and looked between one another.
The portal closed and Yennefer was able to relax, to reenergize and observe the room, the people who'd appeared stunned by their intrusion and the guards. They wouldn't get close. No one would – not this time.
Yennefer's eyes glowed as one of them tried to advance.
The mages were close but none of them had reacted – not physically.
"Daughter," Emhyr's familiar voice interjected with a cut of authority, eased through the crowd, forcing them all to quieten down. "Yennefer. You've returned and I see you've had the good sense to make sure that Cirilla take heed of my invitation."
Yennefer said nothing, refusing to open her mouth, leaving it to Ciri for the time being to get what she needed off her chest so that they could claim their pardons and leave.
He hadn't changed much since Ciri last saw him, though Emhyr did carry the mild signs of ageing.
Ciri reluctantly sheathed her sword now the guards had ceased their advance and met the emperor's gaze.
"I am here like you demanded. So... what do you want?"
"To see you. To make sure that my heir is alive, unhurt and healthy."
Emhyr stepped forward from between his men and people, his face an unreadable mask.
"Everyone out," he demanded in a voice that bordered no argument.
Yennefer stiffened.
He waited until the people had been shown out and all that remained were his guards.
Ciri remained close to Yennefer but made absolutely certain not to hide behind her. She didn't want to show how uncomfortable she was.
There were several things Ciri wanted to tell him. Most of them she wanted to scream. But they needed the pardons. She did not have the luxury of being a brat.
"I am alive, unhurt, and healthy. Satisfied?"
"Hardly," Emhyr said, his eyes scanning the length of her body, her attire, before coming to settle on her face and the scar. "Looks like you weren't as unscarred as I was led to believe."
Yennefer didn't meet his eyes, didn't care to, she was focused on the mages she sensed, on the power emanating from them and the guards she knew had more chains to neutralize her.
Ciri couldn't stop a bitter smile. "Your man did this," she said, gesturing at her scarred face. "Stefan Skellen, remember? You charged him with capturing me. Only he changed his mind and decided to kill me instead."
Emhyr's features changed and darkened with anger.
"Then I am only troubled that, when I strung him up by his neck, I hadn't made him suffer more before he died."
Emhyr stepped toward her, and Yennefer mimicked him, violet eyes blazing a warning that he keep his distance. He ignored the sorceress completely.
Ciri didn't move, though she was tempted to put more distance between them. "Can we get to the point of this visit? Quite busy these days, you see."
Emhyr's cold eyes narrowed cunningly. "So I've been told. Which makes me wonder why you have yet to ask me for help. I can protect you, Cirilla. I can keep you safe."
Once more Ciri wanted to curse him and point out all the flaws in that statement. And once more she barely managed to resist.
"Yes, you can help me," Ciri agreed, lowering her gaze ever so slightly. "And that is why I have come."
"Good," Emhyr remarked, his gaze surveying her approvingly. "I have an army at my disposal. No one will be able to get to you without going through them."
Ciri shook her head. "No. No, that is not what I meant." She looked to Yennefer. "That is not what we came for."
"We need pardons," Yennefer said. "Four."
"Dare I ask who?" Emhyr said coldly without taking his eyes off his daughter.
Yennefer straightened up, thrusting out her chest somewhat.
"The Lodge."
Emhyr scoffed. "Ridiculous. They plot to unseat me."
Yennefer made no attempt to deny that.
"Yet they've promised to help your daughter. To help us defeat The Wild Hunt."
"At a great cost," Emhyr stated, averting his gaze to Yennefer for a long moment, one that relayed how little he appreciated her antiques, before returning his gaze to his daughter. "I've mages of my own, men and women, all willing and ready to lay their lives on the line for their Princess – their future Empress."
"I'd rather have mages who aren't prepared to die at all," Ciri commented. "The sorceresses of the Lodge are the very best. The most powerful."
"And they would just as soon turn on you as they would protect you," Emhyr interrupted, his eyes still fixed on Yennefer. When he turned to look at his daughter, his face had softened ever so slightly. "Trust me, Cirilla – I have fought and won many battles. I know what must be done and I know how to keep you safe."
Ciri sneered. "Locked up, you mean?"
Emhyr did not deny it.
What an absolute wanker, Ciri thought as she strode forth, purposely closing the distance between them, ignoring the guards who tensed behind the Emperor.
"You took everything from me," she growled, staring up into Emhyr's cold eyes. "My mother, my grandmother, condemned me to a life on the run... If you have any decency left in you, you will do this for me."
"I did it all for us to be together through everything," Emhyr said with feeling. "My plans were ruined, but I never stopped looking for you. You are my daughter, we are bound by blood and destiny and duty. You have to accept it. You cannot run away from it. Once you realize that, I will do anything you ask from me, Cirilla."
"I am already bound to another," Ciri said, backing away from the Emperor and turning to Yennefer. "We will get nowhere here. Let's go."
"You will be back, Cirilla," Emhyr said. "One way or another, you will be back, because you cannot do without my aid. You know it. Your royal pride doesn't let you admit to it."
Yennefer had remained uncharacteristically quiet during their exchange, speaking only when necessary, obediently preparing to summon her portal at Ciri's suggestion.
"I do need it," Ciri agreed, whirling around to face him again, green eyes flaring with emotion. "But you will not give it! You are just like the rest of them, like the ones who pursue me now. Everything you all care about is this damned blood! Royal! Elder! And by denying me what I need all you will achieve is watching said blood spill on the battlefield."
"Your place is not on the battlefield, daughter," Emhyr stepped closer to her. "It's on the throne where you were meant to be. Your legacy is to rule the people who have always waited for you to return to them. People who loved your grandmother whose legacy you have to carry. There is no one else to lift that off your shoulders."
"Don't you dare speak to me of grandmother! Or pretend that you care about her people – the people you cut down and mercilessly left in the gutters. I remember. I watched it all happen. And they remember, too. The people of Cintra. And they hate you for it. And that is why you need me. Because you think I will somehow soothe their anger and hatred." Ciri barely managed to keep herself from prodding the Emperor's chest with a finger. "My place is with the witchers and the mages, with the people who need protection from monsters. I never belonged at court."
"You were born into court, Cirilla Fiona, and that is thicker than any faint illusion you're indulging of how you could one day become equal to a witcher or a mage. That has never been your path, and Geralt understood it from the very start. This is why he denied his right enough times to break that bond. He knew you could never be like him. Calanthe knew it. Everybody knew it. But you have always been a stubborn child. Royally stubborn. I do enjoy your character, daughter. I am proud of you. I trust you will eventually see the error of your way and fulfill your duty. Your blood will always belong on the throne. Deep down, you know it. Geralt knows it. Calanthe knew it. And so did I."
"You know nothing about me or what I am capable of," Ciri said coldly before turning to Yennefer again, signaling for her to open the portal. "We are leaving."
Emhyr displayed the smallest of smiles utterly devoid of humor. "No pardons that you need, then?"
Ciri set her jaw to keep from snarling. "I asked. You declined. What more is there?"
"You wish for something I can give you," he mused. "And I wish for something only you can give. We can help each other. Like family. Like allies. I would like that."
A cold shiver rippled down Ciri's spine at those words and she needed a moment to compose herself before she was able to turn and face him again, feigning courage. "Name your terms."
Emhyr gave a subtle, nonchalant shrug. "You fight that battle of yours and then return to me - alone - to talk. No one else, just you and me, honest and open, like father and daughter. I want that. And for that you can have pardons and a unit of my men to fight for you."
Ciri searched his gaze, trying to decipher whether his words were straightforward or laced with some ulterior meaning. This was the man who had once intended to marry her and make her have his children, after all. Had he truly put that intention aside or was he just pretending?
Eventually, she gave the slightest of nods. There was not much of an option. They needed the pardons.
"And Fringilla," she added after a moment's consideration. "Give me the pardons and the sorceress you keep in your dungeons, and I will return here should I survive the upcoming battle. With a more open mind."
Emhyr smiled, with more of a genuine amusement. "You do know how to make demands, daughter. I do admire that. However, a sorceress who's locked up for treason is worth more than your return to talk. It's more on the side of an official coronation of the Princess of Cintra and Nilfgaard."
"No deal," Ciri said immediately. "I cannot make such a promise at this time. Too much, too soon. The pardons it is, then."
"Very well," he nodded. "You have them."
She did not have it in her to thank him, and instead simply replicated his nod.
When Emhyr did not make another move, she spoke. "The papers. We will need proof."
"You shall have them," he said and made an inviting gesture. "In my library, if you please." And began to walk away.
Ciri threw a glance at Yennefer, then reluctantly followed. His library was far more inviting than the main hall, but the familiar painting of Ciri as a child hanging over the fireplace soured it all. It had once hung in Calanthe's bedroom. Emhyr must have taken it from the castle.
"I had never known that girl as closely as I wished to," he remarked, seeing her attention to the painting. "I wish to rekindle that tie. I have never forgotten your dear mother and her wonderful heart. I always wished to know you."
He listed the names and signed the parchment, then stamped the royal seal on it. He rolled it up and held it out to Ciri, his eyes searching her.
"You may not understand nor believe me, Cirilla, but you two have always been dear to me. My destiny. My surprise."
Ciri took the scrolls of parchment and clutched them tightly in her hand.
"You are right," she said. "I don't believe you. I have no reason to. And yet I will keep my word and return here once The Hunt is gone."
"I shall wait for it," he nodded. "My regards to your... witchers."
She did not respond to that. She simply turned on her heels and strode back outside, returning to Yennefer as quickly as she was able without breaking into a run. "Now, finally, let's leave. This place makes me uncomfortable."
Yennefer had stood in the middle of the main hall like a statue, all eyes focused on her, on her hands in particular until Ciri returned. She nodded and summoned their portal to carry them back to their horses and waited on Ciri to step through before heading in after her.
They'd appeared beside their horses seconds later.
"You've the pardons. What about Fringilla?"
Ciri shook her head, reaching for Kelpie so she could put the scrolls into her saddlebags. "You heard him. I am not willing to pay the price he demands for her."
"I assumed he might have tried another round of negotiation."
At least they could return with the pardons.
Yennefer took the reins of her horse and hoisted herself onto the creature's back.
"You handled yourself well in there. I'm proud of you."
"I was trying to be polite," Ciri admitted, climbing into Kelpie's saddle. "That failed horribly."
Yennefer nudged her horse into movement so that they could head back.
"You got the pardons. That's what matters."
"What are we going to do about Fringilla? We can't free her ourselves. Emhyr will retract the pardons."
"I agree. There's too many mages for us to take on alone. We'll talk to Geralt and Kain. See what their thought is. Maybe The Lodge will take it upon themselves now that we know for sure where she is."
"Not sure they can do much, either, if they want to keep their pardons. Should Fringilla suddenly disappear from his dungeons, Emhyr will know who freed her."
"For one of their own they might not care about that."
"They would prioritize Fringilla over their freedom?" Ciri doubted that. Though she did not know any of the sorceresses as well as Yennefer did.
"Triss would."
Yennefer nudged the horse into a trot, putting distance between them and Vizima.
"Philippa might."
When she was sure they were ready, she sped up, hopeful to get them back to Novigrad as soon as, pausing just long enough outside to glamour them once more.
Like last time, the glamour worked perfectly. The guards at the gate looked them over but did not require papers or any further proof they were not the girl everyone was looking for. Probably because Yennefer had given the illusion they were both ageing, overweight men.
Back at the inn, Ciri led the horses into the stable, allowing Yennefer to proceed inside ahead of her.
"And you believe those crates would be enough?" Dandelion watched the two witchers stack six crates of dimeritium in the inn's pantry, rubbing his chin with an expression of either irony or despair.
"Only the battle shall tell," Geralt said, wiping his brow with a sleeve.
"When I'm done with 'em, ye can tell," Zoltan put in, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of work. "Tis goin' to be a long day."
"Right," Dandelion yawned, scratching his head. "I don't believe I'm needed for any of this, because I'd be no good, really. I will pass out any moment now, so I shall leave you, warriors and alchemists, to it while I get my desperately needed beauty sleep." He went for the door, then halted and twirled around pointing a finger at the dwarf: "Do not blow this inn up, you hear me?"
Zoltan faked a heartbreaking hurt, spreading his arms, "When did I ever? How ye wound me, ye silly yapping goose. I never tell ya yer ballads make less sense than the cultists' preachin."
"Because my ballads are the gods' gifts to all the living, sentient beings, and your… chemicals don't mix with your love for mead. So… all drinking after those bombs." He turned to the Witcher, "Geralt, you said something about Dijkstra wanting to relieve us of those, um, supplies – will he?"
Geralt restrained his amusement and shrugged. "Why, when we can make the bombs right here? He'll be relieving the Witch Hunters of their stock."
"Soon enough," Triss confirmed from the doorway, her arms folded. "No priests on the streets today – all of them replaced by his hired men riling people up against the witch hunts and executions. Seems they gather people just the same."
"Ah, those senseless mobs," Dandelion sighed dramatically. "It only works until another performer arrives and they gape away forgetting all about the one before him."
"If that were true, you'd still be a nobody that can hardly sing," Geralt remarked, smirking.
Dandelion grimaced and waved a hand, strolling away. "Do not wake me until it's dinner time," he called.
"Dinner is too far away," Triss sighed. "I could do with a lunch. Those portals take a lot."
"Agreed," Geralt said, following her back into the Inn's main hall through the kitchen. Triss stopped with the maids to discuss the menu while the witchers proceeded out and for the tables.
"They're not back yet," Kain said while Geralt fished a bottle of Erveluce from under the counter and went after his brother to the table he had picked.
"Soon enough now, I hope. Otherwise we have to go there. I don't suppose you know how to… travel like Ciri does?"
Kain shook his head. "I'm not even sure I can on my own. I never did it… consciously."
"It's all right. I hate all magic that takes me from one place to another without Roach beneath me. Can't help but think how next time I can lose a part or three on the way. Won't be grand."
Kain laughed. "Not at all."
"All set, and lunch's coming within half an hour," Triss announced exiting the kitchen and, upon glimpsing the bottle, snatched three cups on her way, and settled with the witchers. She watched them shrewdly, smiling, while Geralt poured the wine, then said, "You truly are alike, now that I know what I see. Remarkable."
They exchanged brief glances, but said nothing.
"It's just… a bit strange," she smiled a bit apologetically, toying with her cup. "Geralt has a brother. And here's me who it's strange for. It must be ten times as much for either of you."
"I think the strange part is wearing out," Geralt said, taking a sip of his wine.
"We're entering the field of habit now," added Kain.
Triss beamed and raised her cup, "For family. The very thing to always fight for."
They saluted to her toast and drank.
Yennefer gave Ciri a nod while she tended and returned their horses to the stable, sauntering into the inn, scowling at the sight that met her.
Triss and the witchers all smiles and laughing. Yennefer was wracked with envy.
Ciri followed Yennefer inside a short time later, after emptying the saddlebags and handing the horses over to one of the stable boys.
She found the sorceress still lingering by the entrance, yet to be seen by the table of witchers and redheaded witch. Giving Yennefer's elbow an encouraging squeeze, Ciri made her way over to the others.
The heavy weight of worry dissipated as soon as Geralt saw Ciri and Yennefer stroll toward their table. Triss got up and went to get more cups and add some orders in the kitchen while the two settled. She was back very quickly.
"How did it go?" she asked while Geralt poured them wine.
"Got the pardons," Ciri said, taking a seat next to Kain and pulling the scrolls from her bag to place on the table. "But not Fringilla."
The Witcher frowned catching Kain's glance. "That could be a problem."
"It most certainly is," Philippa said approaching with Margarita in tow. They sat down and summoned cups and a carafe of wine. "Why is that so, may I ask?"
"There's not enough of us, we need her," added Margarita.
"Is she even there?" asked Triss. "Who knows for sure?"
"I was not willing to pay the price for her release," Ciri told Philippa, taking a sip of the wine Geralt had poured her.
"What did he want?" Kain asked.
"I dare assume he merely wanted you to fulfill your destiny," Philippa said, a small biting smile tugging on her lips.
Geralt's face darkened, but he said nothing.
"An official coronation," Ciri told Kain, purposely avoiding Philippa's gaze. "I can't promise him such a thing. Nor do I want to."
"You don't have to," Geralt said, leaning over Kain to squeeze her shoulder. "He just wants to corner you."
"He just wants to save her," Philippa said. If she had eyes, they would be blazing with lightning. "Her life and those people who depend on his throne and power. Ciri as Empress would save not only herself, but all the people and sorcerers and non-humans she claims to care about. It is the only way to change what you, Ciri, want to change in this world."
"At least think about it, Ciri," Margarita added in a softer tone Philippa didn't care for.
"All Ciri needs to think about momentarily is surviving The Wild Hunt," Yennefer interjected, tone hard, suggesting that the other two sorceresses back off.
"No one is arguing that fact," Triss added emerging from the kitchens. "All they're saying is that it's an option. You know what politics are like."
Yennefer did, that didn't mean she cared to force it onto to someone, especially someone that she loved and who hadn't the most pleasant of tie to that setting.
"That's not what we're here to talk about," Yennefer snipped.
"You're right, we're talking about Fringilla," Philippa retorted. "One of our own left to rot."
Yennefer stared blankly. "There was no way to get her out safely and to take her would have overruled the pardons Ciri had already managed to secure for you," she stated.
"Had it been one of your own," Philippa pointed out coolly, "I'm sure you'd have found a way."
Ciri smiled at the sorceresses, but it was void of warmth. "You are all idiots if you think Emhyr intends to give me his throne. He wants me on display, looking pretty and supporting his causes. To wear what he tells me to wear, to speak the words he whispers in my ear while remaining silent about the matters that are actually important.
"As for Fringilla..." Ciri eyed Philippa speculatively. "Perhaps you have something of your own to offer the Emperor? A bargaining chip for her freedom?"
"What can we possibly have?" Philippa snapped. "He only wants you. And let us get real about the facts here, Cirilla: no one can make you rule the way you wouldn't want - you have the power beyond his imagination and you would follow your own choices. And that is exactly what this land needs. We all need someone who would stop the executions and witch hunts, who would finally allow magic and the kingdoms to thrive. This is how you can help this world, Ciri. This is what is required of you. Your true destiny: to destroy the old and build the new."
"What makes you think I am fit to rule anyone?" Ciri asked. "Blood? That is hardly enough. I would make a poor and reluctant leader and everyone would suffer for it."
"No one will suffer more than they already do since the fall of the kingdoms to Nilfgaard," Margarita said. "Your blood was destined, Ciri. You were born for a reason. It was clear from the start."
"It's true," Philippa nodded. "You are meant to change the world for the better. You will never be able to escape your destiny."
Ciri shook her head and stood. "You're placing your hope on the wrong person," she said somberly and headed for the stairs, climbing them rapidly so she could get to her room.
Geralt glared at Philippa. "So very subtle, great job."
"There's no time left for subtlety, Witcher," Philippa snarled. "That naughty girl has to rise to her duty one of these days before the whole Continent goes to hell."
"This girl will live the way she wants to," Geralt uttered menacingly, rising, and went after Ciri.
"She will ruin everything she loves if she runs from herself," Philippa called after him.
Triss shook her head, looking sad.
"It wasn't supposed to be pressure," Margarita said. "She needs to listen and think about it, not run further."
"Ah, nonsense," Philippa scoffed. "That baby has to grow up."