They made it through the city gates easily enough, but once they neared the castle, the royal guards stopped them, looking them both over skeptically.
"Turn around, travelers. This way is off limits," one of the guards said.
Ciri lowered her hood. "We request an audience with the Emperor."
The other guard snorted, amused. "You and everyone else. The Emperor is too busy to meet with filthy rats. Try again another day."
"Tell your Emperor that Princess Cirilla wishes to speak with him," Ciri said, trying to put on as much of a royal air as she could.
The guards stared, then looked between themselves, murmuring. "She has the scar."
"The hair is darker, though."
"But she's with a witcher. The Witcher. It must be her."
They weren't very good at concealing their conversation.
Ciri shot a look at Geralt, not sure if she was amused by their lack of experience or annoyed by the trouble.
"Princess Cirilla." A man moved quickly down the steps of the palace and towards them. It was clear from first glance he was of a higher standing than the two guards bickering like children.
He had blue eyes and dark hair that was slicked back from his face. He wore armor of a higher quality than any mere soldier would, and on his chest hung a large triangular golden medallion.
"Let them through," he ordered the two guards, who reluctantly parted. "And have someone take care of their horses."
Ciri watched the newcomer uncertainly. She could not remember ever seeing him before.
He briefly caught her gaze before lowering in a courteous bow. "Your highness. My name is Morvran Voorhis, commander of the Alba Division. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. If you and your Witcher would follow me..." He gestured back towards the stairs.
Ciri cast another look at Geralt, then slipped off Kelpie and reluctantly handed her reins to one of the guards.
The Witcher nodded in greeting when Morvran's eyes swept over him, but neither expressed any familiarity until the aristocrat led them through the corridors and halls to meet the Emperor.
"I believe congratulations are in order as we see you have found each other," Voorhis said, strolling ahead of them languidly as if he were at his family home. Which, Geralt recollected, wasn't too far from truth. "His Majesty our Emperor has been rather worried the whole time until the good news finally came. We are delighted to see you, Your Highness, in your perfect health." He granted Ciri a charming smile and bowed to her while continuing to walk. His graceful pace didn't suffer one bit, and Geralt thought he must have had a lot of practice. Meeting noble and beautiful women and remaining in his favors demanded certain skills. Morvran seemed to be in his element.
"Thank you?" Ciri wasn't sure how else to respond. She'd forgotten a lot of royal courtesy and etiquette during her years on the run. She'd had no use for it then.
Morvan led them through the guarded corridors and towards the door Ciri recognized as Emhyr's study. Already, her stomach was in knots. She hated this place, these people. Their armor continued to remind her of the assault on Cintra and how the blood had run red in the streets.
Morvan gestured to the guard positioned outside the door and said guard knocked.
"Enter," Emhyr's voice sounded from the other side.
The guard opened and Ciri, Geralt, and Morvan stepped inside.
"Your Highness," Morvan greeted, executing a similar bow that he had done for Ciri earlier. "I present to you Princess Cirilla and Geralt of Rivia."
That sounded highly comical. Especially since Emhyr knew perfectly well who they were.
"You may leave us," Emhyr said, waving his hand dismissively in Morvan's direction.
Morvan looked disappointed but did not disobey. He vanished through the door and it closed behind him.
"Two visits in two days," Emhyr mused, smiling as he regarded Ciri from behind his large desk. "What do I owe the pleasure?"
"We came back to clear out certain inconsistencies," Geralt said, seeing Ciri had nothing to start with.
"Oh? And what would those be?" Emhyr never took his eyes of Ciri as if to absorb and etch her every feature into his memory.
"You handed us the pardons for the Lodge and its sorceresses. However, you refuse to extend the same courtesy to Fringilla Vigo who is a member of the Lodge."
"Ah, that." Emhyr gave a bored wince. "She is just one. You have... three on your side if I'm not mistaken? And also we should not forget about Lady Yennefer. What would this one mage change?"
"Seeing as the remaining Lodge members appear highly unwilling to help at all unless Fringilla joins them tonight – I'd say it would make a great difference," Ciri commented, trying to keep any rudeness out of her tone of voice. "I'd be so bold to say it will likely change the outcome of whether or not The Hunt has their way with me."
Emhyr kept watching her, seemingly pensive, his fingers rubbing his chin. "And what then?" he asked in a calm voice.
"What do you mean?"
Emhyr twitched his lips in an imperceptible smile. "I help you, and you defeat the Hunt and drive them out of Novigrad. What then? You forget I exist?"
"Driving them out of Novigrad won't be the end of this," Ciri said. "To stop this incessant life on the run, Eredin needs to die. And that is not likely to happen during this upcoming battle. Perhaps the next. Or the one after that. I do not know. Our main goal this time around is to protect the people of Novigrad. To prevent as much innocent bloodshed as possible. I do not know what comes next."
"You keep denying the obvious, Cirilla," Emhyr said. "Your trouble would be lesser had you accepted my protection and aid. I have mages on service. You wouldn't have to run anymore. Because you have a home. And family that wishes to protect you."
Ciri stepped forward, closer to the desk, her brow creased in something close to pain.
"The Hunt would slaughter your people. Innocents. Your soldiers. Your mages. They are not fit to handle something like this. During our last fight, we lost two men who were among the most skilled supernatural warriors this realm has ever seen. Staying here would be to condemn you and your whole city to death.
"I am asking for your aid. Just not in the way you would prefer."
Emhyr's expression didn't twitch; he kept eyeballing her with calm nonchalance.
"You lost two witchers, is that correct? Because you didn't have enough swords and mages to provide enough protection. I have all that to offer, and more. It's not a bunch of rogue witchers with a couple mages and no hope against the elves. It's an army of experienced warriors and another army of best mages this world has to offer. I would say it's a better chance for a win than you've ever had. You cannot compare."
Ciri shook her head, not sure why she was so disappointed. She should have expected this.
"So what would you have me do? Lock myself away in a tower? In this palace? Surrounded by guards and simply waiting for others to fight my battles for me?"
"No one stops you from fighting your battles. But doing it with better back-up saves a lot of lives that are otherwise lost."
"But only if I agree to a coronation, is that right? Only if I give my life away?"
Emhyr smirked. "You're not the only heir to that throne, Cirilla, but merely the most desirable. Having you around at least some time would still be my yearning. If you wish to forget me, I'm afraid there are a lot of factors that wouldn't allow it. Be it our connection, your heritage, your legacy and destiny, there will always be something to bring you back to me. If you would stop fighting our bond, it wouldn't hurt as much as when you keep resisting."
"Our bond?" Ciri stared, dumbfounded. "We have no bond. I barely even remember you from when I was a child. And all you have done since is trying to fake my death, killing my mother, my grandmother, sending bounty hunters and assassins after me, and then attempting to take me away so we could marry and breed! What on earth makes you think that created a bond between us?"
The look on Emhyr's face remained even. "It is there no matter what you say, no matter what either of us does. We're bound by blood and magic of your mother. She was wonderful. I wish she was still with me. I do, indeed. It is my biggest regret in life - losing her. Losing both of you."
She watched him for a long moment, silent, and with the burning sensation of tears stinging her eyes. A sigh escaped her and she turned away, a cacophony of feelings echoing inside her that made her confused and disoriented – shifting her closer to the edge.
Ciri undid her hair, the pins too tight against her scalp again, and ruffled it, trying to get some circulation back to her head. She wished Geralt would speak, that he would argue on her behalf. Surely he'd do a better job of it. Less... emotional.
"Do you love me?" She did not turn back to look at Emhyr, but she could see his reflection in the nearest window.
Emhyr didn't make her wait for his answer. "I always have. Does that shock you so much?"
"Because I am your daughter? Or because I am an asset?"
Emhyr shifted in his chair, looking slightly surprised and yet smiling imperceptibly like a parent whose child uttered something adorable. "Do you love your sword, Cirilla? Or your talents? Your hair? How can one love an asset?"
"You'd be surprised how people can care about you only because of what you can do for them."
She'd experienced that firsthand. Most recently with Avallac'h. And that still hurt. Like someone was consistently poking at a wound that was not nearly close to healing.
"I'm never surprised, anymore," Emhyr said. "That ability dies pretty soon with the growth of experience."
She was silent for a long while again, eyeing the portrait of herself as a little girl. How she hated that portrait. How she hated all the memories now associated with it. How she hated the thought of being back at court...
"Give me Fringilla tonight," she said finally. "And I will come stay with you for a while. After The Hunt is defeated once and for all."
Emhyr smiled slightly. "Very well. Tell General Voorhis I ordered her released. He shall do what is necessary."
Ciri nodded, but still couldn't make herself look at him. She felt sick to her stomach.
Without hesitation, she headed for the door, assuming Geralt would follow her out. The Witcher was about to follow Ciri out when Emhyr stopped him.
"Witcher," he called; Geralt turned to look at him. "If you think there is anything I can do to protect her, now and in future, while she is too proud to ask - let me know. Please."
Geralt didn't respond, but gave a curt nod and went out the door.
Morvan was waiting just outside, hands behind his back. He stood to attention once Ciri and Geralt exited.
"Fringilla Vigo is to be released from the Emperor's dungeons. Now. And unharmed. She will be coming with us," Ciri said, leaving the man no room to argue.
He bowed slightly and led the way back towards the entrance hall. "Ah. I shall certainly see to her release as quickly as possible. Though I cannot promise the sorceress is entirely unharmed at this moment. You know what they are like; it takes a lot to restrain them."
Ciri simply scowled.
"Don't worry," Geralt said, seeing her mien. "She's going to be all right. If there are any injuries, the Lodge will take care of it."
She nodded mutely, her gaze set on Morvan's back as he moved up ahead to talk to some of the guards. They left shortly after and he returned to Geralt and Ciri's side, a pleasant smile on his face. "Any minute now."
It was clear from the first moment Ciri laid eyes on her, that Fringilla had not been mistreated as badly as Margarita and Triss. But she had certainly not lived a life of luxury and comfort the past few weeks. She was abnormally pale and her eyes were bloodshot, skin and hair dull and lifeless. She looked utterly surprised to see them.
"Geralt. Cirilla," she said, rubbing her wrists once the guards undid her chains. "What is happening?"
"We're taking you back to your friends. The Lodge," Ciri said simply, looking to Morvan. "Our horses. Bring them around."
Voorhis didn't seem excited about Ciri's way of addressing him but managed to keep his face and a polite smile on his mouth.
The horses were brought immediately and Roach was still chewing on her hay. Geralt helped Fringilla up behind Ciri, and they rode out.
"How did you manage to convince him?" Fringilla asked.
"It doesn't matter," Ciri answered, letting Kelpie go into a light trot once they were close to the city gates. She was eager to get Fringilla out of there before Emhyr changed his mind. "What matters is you're out. Are you hurt?"
"No, nothing bad to be concerned about," she said, casing a furtive but sharp gander at Geralt. "I hope the price isn't too high." Her arms tightened slightly around Ciri's waist. "Tell me how are you doing? Are you well? Is everyone?"
Ciri swallowed thickly. She was uncomfortable. Both with the topic of conversation and Fringilla's closeness.
Like Margarita, Fringilla had never been someone Ciri considered the worst among The Lodge. They were both more reasonable than Philippa. More pliable. But it didn't mean she trusted them.
"I'm well. A little tired, but well. Philippa, Triss, and Margarita are waiting for you in Novigrad. Yennefer is there too."
"Oh, splendid," Fringilla murmured.
Geralt met her gaze when he turned to assess her and compare with their last encounter, but the mage averted her gaze and remained reserved. Geralt wondered whether anything or everything changed in her since their past affair.
"Take her back," he told Ciri when the city was behind. "Get some rest and pick me up later. Or I'll just ride on my own. It's all right. Roach and I never mind that - the best way of travel."
"I'll come back for you as soon as possible," she said. "I can't stand being away from you any longer."
And with that, they were gone.
The Witcher watched Ciri disappear and sent Roach into a gallop. He intended to enjoy that moment of the sensations he was used to and associated with traveling and the Path.
He's had too many portals lately.
Fringilla's grasp on Ciri was painfully tight when they arrived back at the stables.
"Oh..." she breathed. "That was... different."
"I suppose," Ciri said, gently peeling the woman's arms from around her and slipping off Kelpie's back. She helped Fringilla down next and left Kelpie for now, assuring her she'd be back quickly.
"Come on. I'll escort you upstairs." Ciri led Fringilla into the inn, doing her best to shield her from whoever was curious enough to look their way, then up the stairs and to the suite the sorceresses were inhabiting. She assumed that is where Fringilla would sleep as well.
Ciri knocked on the door to the suite, and as soon as the door opened, she stepped away, heading back for the stairs. She had no intention of getting trapped in the sorceresses' web of questions and demands once again. At least she knew Fringilla had been handed over safely and that the mission was complete.
She slipped back out into the stable and removed Kelpie's gear, grooming her and feeding her, taking her time since she had sensed Geralt truly wanted some time alone with Roach. But once forty-five minutes had passed, she could not hold back any longer.
She focused on Geralt and his whereabouts, appearing quite some distance behind him in a field. He was galloping.
Ciri whistled to try and catch his attention, hoping he'd hear her and that she wouldn't have to give chase.
Geralt was quite engaged in his thoughts, and a faint whistle from behind caught his ear a bit belatedly.
He slowed Roach and turned her around, seeking out Ciri's figure. He trotted back toward her.
"Do you not tire with those jumps?" he asked, pulling her up behind him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested the side of her face against his back.
"Not really," she said. "Not anymore. Not unless I have to jump from world to world in quick succession."
"You've seen the sorceresses or just pushed her into their room and ran? Is everything all right back there?"
"Pushed and ran. I can't take another meeting with Philippa today, or Triss telling me I am selfish for not wishing to become Empress. But all seemed fine. Calm, considering the circumstances."
"And Kain?"
"Didn't see him. Hope he is resting."
"Hmm. Maybe it'd have been best to kill Dijkstra. I somehow... didn't insist. Maybe I was wrong when I let Kain do this."
"We can't know for certain which outcome would be better. Besides, unless it was absolutely necessary, I don't think Kain would have agreed to kill him. He's like you - reluctant to take a life. It's a good thing."
"Depends on what life it is," Geralt murmured. "Sparing those who inevitably do more damage is not too wise."
"I have always admired that about you. Your reverence for life. Even when it comes to the beasts you hunt," Ciri murmured, her eyes closed. "When we were apart, I tried so hard to be like that. To not kill. Even those who had tried to hurt me. Made me feel closer to you, I suppose. I could hear your voice in my head every time I fought. Guiding me."
A small, warm smile touched the Witcher's mouth. "Sparing life when it's possible is noble, Ciri. But not the life that would come back to hurt you or your loved ones. Kain is a witcher like me, we share the same background along with mother. But he's also a druid, and she's put a bit more effort into making him like he is. He can be ruthless, but only when he sees no other option.
"He might not know Dijkstra as well, however, and thus he chose to spare him and suffer for that choice himself. I'm not so sure it was worth it."
"What would happen to Kain should Djikstra die now?"
"I'm no mage, I have no idea," he admitted. "But he wouldn't die. He's unharmed. Merely a bit controlled. Someone has to rule down Redania now and redirect their fury to where we need it."
"Soon enough he won't have a choice. To sit back and not fight will mean death for anyone still in Novigrad come the day The Hunt returns."
"His task has been to undermine witch hunts and make people believe that mages and non-humans are their hope instead of enemy. He would put Redanian soldiers to fight."
She was silent a while, simply enjoying having Geralt all to herself for a time.
"All these people clambering for power, wanting to rule... is it really all so they can change things for the better? Do you believe that?"
"Anyone with a power to rule can change things for better or worse," said the Witcher. "Not everybody wants to. Their selfish desires almost always come first."
"I think power corrupts. I think being given that much power will eventually destroy the person you used to be. If there was any good in said person to begin with."
"I can't know about that," Geralt said. "It's sad to believe there could be no true rulers in the world. The Craite family on Skellige Isles does a good job, though."
"I agree. They have managed to keep themselves good. Probably because they are so far away from the rest of us," Ciri murmured. She lifted her head. "Do you want me to take us back?"
He sighed and smiled a little. "I wish we could just run away and stay on our own. Get Kain and Dandelion and travel the roads, be at peace. But for now we have to go back and see if everyone is all right. If Kain can still handle Dijkstra as he said."
He observed the sky; they had a few hours before dark.
She smiled. "That's a lovely dream. One I have had many times."
Of course, in Ciri's version Yennefer was also present. It worried her that didn't seem to be the way for Geralt anymore.
"How are things with Yennefer?" she asked cautiously. "Are you getting along?"
He shrugged, "I would guess so."
"And that's as far as it goes?" She leaned forward, trying to rest her chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Geralt, for asking such questions. I know you don't like it. But I feel as though my parents have split up and I am just... trying to understand what will happen now."
"I don't know what to tell you, Ciri. She's beautiful, smart, desirable, but I don't remember being... close. The kind of close that makes the two like one. What you feel is not what I know or understand."
"And it is not something you would want?" She asked. "To get close?"
"I don't know. I wasn't meant to be close to anyone. It's not something I was allowed to want." Geralt smirked recalling Kain saying the same things. He now felt the same way Kain should have felt when everyone kept asking about Ciri, Geralt realized. It was rather ironic.
"Romantically, you mean? Because you have experienced other kinds of love. Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Coen… You love them, do you not?"
"Witchers aren't meant to be in love," he specified.
"Who made that rule?" she wondered.
"Those who made our kin. We are being made for specific purposes, and any romance is not within that purpose. I'm not human, Ciri. I'm made to protect humans from what they can't protect themselves from."
"You're just as human as I am," she insisted softly because somehow she liked the thought of them being the same. "Do you remember what it was like before? Before you got the mutations?"
"Not anymore. It was too long ago and feels like a foggy dream."
"Do you think I would have been better off if I had gotten the mutations? Do you think it would have made me stronger?"
"No! I'd never wish it upon anyone. That's the truth. I had no choice concerning my life, but with yours I did. Besides, Kaer Morhen was never the same after the massacre, no longer able to make more witchers."
"I don't know," she said despite Geralt's insistence. "Maybe it would have made me better. Less... emotional. I'm so angry all the time. It makes me feel like my whole body is on fire. Avallac'h says it's the Elder Blood. But I'm starting to fear it might be something else. Emhyr. Maybe his angry, violent genes were never supposed to be mixed with the Elder Blood."
"No one else is to blame for your temper, Ciri. You're the only one ever responsible for your emotions. Believing otherwise is a weakness."
"Mm," she murmured in agreement. "Was I an angry child? When you first got to know me? I can hardly remember anymore."
"When we met in Brokilon, you were very boisterous and haughty, like a little queen. And later, in Kaer Morhen, you showed there was a pent up anger in you after things you'd been through during the war."
Ciri smiled ever so slightly. "I hope I have changed since then at least. Or do I still act like a spoiled princess?"
Geralt grinned, amused. "Even if you are a spoiled princess, you're my little princess. Which means you're the best gift this life's given me."
She laughed, squeezing his waist punishingly. "Did you ever think you'd be a father?"
"Not even in my nightmares," he jibed.
"Your life would be dull without me." It probably wouldn't, but she liked saying it.
She brought them back to the inn's stable in a flash and slipped off of a disgruntled Roach's back.
The Witcher dismounted and pulled the bridle off Roach's head. Roach moved her lips and shifted to the heap of hay.
"I'll be in a bit," Geralt said, jerking his chin toward the inn inviting Ciri to go inside.
"Alright." Ciri pulled her gloves off as she walked and entered the inn soon after. She made her way upstairs and knocked on Kain's door. There was no answer. Gently, she pushed the door open and peered inside, assuming he was sleeping.
But no. The room was empty.
As she closed the door she searched her own instincts, dreading the thought Philippa might have dragged him upstairs to their suite to have their way with him.
But once more, no. He was nowhere in the inn. She could sense it. Perhaps he had gone to the forest? It would not surprise her.
She looked into her own room in search of Yennefer, and when she did not find her there, peered into Geralt's room. There she was, atop his bed, sleeping.
Or at least that's what it looked like at first glance?
"Yennefer?" Ciri asked once she spotted the trace of dried blood from under the sorceress' nose, stepping into the room. "Yennefer? Can you hear me?"
Yennefer awoke at the sound of a probing voice with a ball of anger in her gut so strong that she didn't know if she was breathing or spitting fire.
She met Ciri's concerned gaze hovering over her, and felt that heat lessen.
Yennefer didn't move, not right away, her hand coming up to her nose, to touch the dried blood as if to make sure she actually felt it there. She licked her fingers and swiped at the stickiness, restoring order as she sat up.
Kain attacked her.
Wasn't too hard to assume given where she'd ended up.
Yennefer freed her hair of twigs and other dirt she'd picked up after she'd gone down, and fixed Ciri with an assessing gaze.
"How did it go?"
"What?" Ciri blinked, confused by the situation. "What happened to you?"
Yennefer shrugged off the fretful question. "A dispute. I'm fine. How did things with Emhyr go?"
"Fine," Ciri murmured, her brow still creased in concern and confusion. "We got Fringilla."
"Great," Yennefer said, pushing up off the mattress so she could check her reflection in the mirror. She was also feeling sticky in other areas. "What did you have to promise Emhyr this time?"
"It doesn't matter," Ciri said, not wishing to think about it. And her mind was still on Yennefer. "Did Philippa do this? Did she hurt you?"
"Of course the latest demands from the Emperor matter," Yennefer stated, swiveling around to face Ciri. "What doesn't matter is this." Yennefer gestured to herself. Her face was clear of blood and there was nothing else besides her unconsciousness to suggest there had been any trouble at all. "Philippa didn't do anything to me. I surmise that with all her support at her beck and call, she's discussing her latest plan for political dominion and couldn't be bothered. How's Geralt?"
"He's fine. Out getting Roach ready for the night." Ciri hesitated. "Did Kain leave?"
"Kain went for a walk. If he isn't here already, I assume he'll be back by morning."
Ciri nodded, satisfied. "He prefers the forest. Easier to heal there. Easier to live, I suppose." She watched Yennefer, unsure if she was really all right and how much to push. "Will you come down for dinner?"
Yennefer nodded gently. "I need a moment to wash up. I'll meet you down there?"
"Alright." Ciri smiled, but concern was still on the forefront of her mind.
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, heading down to the bar to see if Geralt had made it inside.
There was no one at the counter, and Geralt helped himself to a bottle of wine. He was significantly hungry and considering going to some tavern. What stopped him was the thought of how the taverns must be packed with people buzzing over Radovid's death and the upcoming battle.
Ciri took a seat next to him, reaching over the counter to find a clean mug for herself. "Pour some for me as well, please?"
He did and pushed the mug to her. "You look worried. Kain is not all right?"
"He went for a walk, apparently. Probably to see his griffin, but..." She leaned in a little, as if the room was filled with people who could overhear their conversation. "When I walked into your room I found Yennefer unconscious on your bed, bleeding from her nose. Said she had an altercation but wouldn't expand on that."
He frowned, "Strange. Though hardly she would tell if she doesn't want to. Is she unwell?"
He thought of Fringilla. She didn't seem in the mood to fight anyone. Unless that anyone started a fight.
"I don't know?" Ciri admitted. "She was moving around alright. Perhaps a little unsteady? Help me keep an eye on her? Just in case."
"How do you propose I do that?" he smiled. "Follow her around? Where is she now?"
"No," Ciri said patiently. "Just when you are near each other or in the same room. In case she collapses or something of the like. She said she would come down to dinner after washing up."
"And what are you going to do?" He glanced at her with an ironic smile. "The same but with Kain?"
"I'm keeping an eye on her, too." She wasn't sure what was so hard to understand about all this.
Yennefer hadn't bothered to take a full bath, instead she'd taken off her pants, washed between her legs to be rid of the blood there, and pulled on a new pair. She'd save that for much later. When she was done and felt refreshed again, she headed downstairs to the dining area to join them for supper.
"Bombs all ready," Zoltan announced emerging from the cellar with his face grey and black with all the dust and oils. "I'll wash up and hope some dinner serves itself by then - I'm starvin'."
"Dandelion is probably asleep, but we'll see if anyone is in the kitchen today," Geralt said.
Zoltan scowled. "Sleepin, that lazy bastard? Horseshit. I don't have it in me to cook. Ye better find someone, Geralt." He headed for the stairs and met Yennefer who was descending. "Greetings," he muttered and went past her, rubbing his neck.
"Zoltan," Yennefer greeted as she squeezed past him on the stairs.
"I suppose I could try to put something together," Ciri said with mild doubt in her voice. She wasn't the best cook. Certainly not up to Zoltan's standards.
"What are you in the mood for?" A question directed at both Geralt and Yennefer, the latter having only just joined them.
"Meat," Yennefer answered once she was within hearing range of the question. "Potatoes. Whatever you want to make is fine by me."
The Witcher sighed, downed his wine and stood up, headed for the kitchen. One of the women working at the inn was there washing vegetables in a basin while tears trickled down her cheeks.
"What's the matter?" Geralt asked.
She started, wiping tears hurriedly. "N-No, m'lord, nothin. Nothin at all. I'm... eh... supper. I'll make—"
"Why are you crying?" he asked, trying to make his voice softer. He must have succeeded because the woman's face crunched up and she shook her head.
"M'so afeared, m'lord," she confessed through sobs. "What's to be with us now..."
"You're safe here. Nothing shall befall you, I promise."
"Oh... even if so... m'sister and her fam'ly, m'lord. They live out the gate."
"They'll be fine," Geralt said. "The Hunt will not venture out of the city, and we'll stop them here. Your relatives are safe, however, it might be better to get further away for after tomorrow. To be safer."
"I'll... I shall tell 'em, m'lord," she said, wiping her face with already wet backs of her hands while scrubbing potatoes vigorously in the basin. "Thank thee, m'lord."
"Will there be dinner soon?"
"Course, m'lord. Right away. Chicken and potatoes, m'lord?"
"Yes, would be nice. Thanks. You had a helper..."
"Ah, Sera, aye, m'lord, she's livin in the city, 's hard to get 'ere with... all that..."
He nodded and returned to the main room.
"The woman in the kitchen will cook," he announced, settling back, and poured himself another cup. "You feeling all right, Yennefer?" He regarded her, sipping. "Who hurt you?"
Yennefer darted a glance at Ciri. The sorceress expected her to inform Geralt, but she hadn't really expected him to ask. "Like I assured our child upstairs, I'm fine. It was more something I did to myself, than anyone else."
Geralt studied her for a long moment, sipping wine. "Why does it look shady to me?" he remarked afterwards. "How embarrassing can it be to tell us why you've been bleeding from your nose when Ciri found you?"
Yennefer rolled her eyes. "It's not embarrassing." It was infuriating. "You have your secrets, I have mine. Why does it matter?"
Ciri looked between the two with the eyes of a child uncertain of her place, sipping her wine greedily. "As long as you are alright."
The Witcher didn't particularly like the insinuation about secrets, but shrugged and refilled his cup. "Very well."
"I am," Yennefer assured, gifting the both of them a smile in turn. "I appreciate the concern though."
Ciri idly twirled a lock of hair around her finger, the awkwardness of her companions and the tension between them setting in.
"Do you think The Lodge will keep their word now they have Fringilla?"
"Triss will make sure that they do."
"If they don't, we will fight on our own with those troops available," said Geralt. "Just as we usually would. A part of me, however, believes it won't come to that. They don't want you dead. Us, on the other hand, they would likely abandon."
"What do you mean?" she asked, eyeing Geralt. "Won't come to what? Don't let them get off that easy, Geralt. We went to prison for them. I endured—" Yennefer didn't even want to think about it. "Fact is, you did your part. You both did. It's their turn to step up to the table."
"They know the deal. But is it my place to enforce it? There's not much I can do against sorceresses. I'm a witcher. Signs won't do much to them."
"I'll send them to the world of waste," Ciri teased. "I once landed in a world made completely of offal. Smelled wonderful."
Yennefer grinned in Ciri's direction. "You do that."
"If only it helped us anyhow," Geralt sighed.
"So what about that dinner, eh?"
Zoltan, changed into clean shirt, was descending the stairs followed by a yawning Dandelion.
"Why you torment me so," the poet muttered.
The dinner was ready in a bit, and they all dug in enthusiastically, each having discovered how starving they were.
"We need to save some for Kain," Ciri said between mouthfuls of chicken. "He doesn't get that many home-cooked meals. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
"Where the heck is he?" Zoltan asked, just now realizing the man in question wasn't around.
Yennefer made a point of helping herself to an extra portion of chicken at Ciri's mention of saving for Kain.
"Went for a walk. Wasn't feeling well," Ciri answered, having a sip of her mead. "I will go find him once I am finished."
"Maybe we shouldn't," Geralt assumed. "He might need some time alone in the woods."
"He probably wants the comfort nature has to offer," Yennefer added.
Ciri hadn't suggested they would, but her alone. Though with Geralt and Yennefer's reluctance, new uncertainties arose.
Maybe he didn't want her to come. Maybe he wasn't even in the forest but somewhere else.
Maybe he was with Fealinn.
Ciri remained silent, eyes on the meal in front of her.
"Unless the headache got worse," Geralt mused, washing the meal down with wine.
Ciri blinked. "What... you're saying he's out there somewhere... hurt?"
Geralt gave her an incredulous look. "I've been with you all the time. He had a headache when we left. I haven't seen him since. But I do know he prefers the wilderness to heal."
Ciri took a last bite of her meal and stood, still chewing as she wrapped up some chicken and potatoes for Kain.
"I'll find him. Make sure he is alright. If he wants to be alone he will simply send me away."
Yennefer smiled, reaching out to place one of her hand's on Geralt's arm, a let-her-go-and-do-as-she-wishes signal. "Just be careful out there. Cover up."
Geralt cast a bewildered glance Yennefer's way, then nodded at Ciri, "It'd be best if neither of you stayed in the woods for the night. We don't know what happens tomorrow. What if Eredin decides to come a day early?"
"I'll try and bring him back but make no promises," she said, pulling on her hood, the wrap of food under one arm as she disappeared.
"Yer mages all here?" Zoltan asked, chewing. "All ready for tomorrow or whenever that shite comes."
"Yes, seems like it," Geralt said.
"Wonderful," Dandelion muttered, pouring himself wine. "The more mages, the merrier."
Yennefer watched the shift of light and then Ciri disappear. Her form of travel was no more different than that of Yennefer's own, but it was more sophisticated and as if it were part of who she was.
"You should leave Novigrad," Yennefer added, averting her gaze to Dandelion. "Priscilla, too. Soon you won't have much time left."
Dandelion flashed her a look full of self-righteous indignation. "We aren't leaving. At least I wasn't going to. I don't suppose this should go badly, given mages and, well, two witchers. Geralt?" He regarded the Witcher with a squint. "Do you also believe I should go away?"
Geralt shrugged, eyeing him, "It might get bad, none of us can know in advance. Maybe it's best for you to be somewhere safe. Outside of the city."
"First of all, we have a cellar here," Dandelion said. "And second - no, I'm not leaving you. I'll try to convince Priscilla to hide someplace, however. Not sure she would agree, but..."
"It's best she does," Zoltan said. "Ye should, too, and ye know it."
"I do not run from my city," Dandelion said through gritted teeth and forked more chicken and potatoes.
Yennefer said, "It's not so much about running, as it is making sure Geralt doesn't have to worry about you. You know he will. It'll be distracting."
"I don't think it's ever been a problem when we traveled together," the poet scowled, reprimanding Yennefer with his gaze. "I will stay and help and... see what happens with my own eyes. As I always prefer to do."
Geralt smirked subtly, chewing.
"Ye think it's to be another of your ballads, ye dumb arse," Zoltan chortled, shaking his head. "Here's to hope Pris's smarter."
"Eat your chicken," Dandelion grumbled.
"You're more fool than poet," Yennefer retorted.
Dandelion shot her a glare, "Loud words from someone who doesn't possess a natural talent."
"Let us not go there now," Geralt asked.
"I didn't start it!" Dandelion cried.
"Then don't try to finish it," Zoltan suggested, smirking.
"I could use this unnatural talent to turn you into a slug and put you into a glass jar until this battle is over, if you'd prefer?" Yennefer smiled.
"Geralt!" Dandelion dropped his fork, pointing at her. "Do you hear that?"
"No one's turning anyone into slugs here," Geralt said calmly. "We have a battle coming. You need to stop bickering among yourselves."
Yennefer smiled around her fork at the rhymester's outrage. "Why when we have a little time in need of entertainment. Isn't that what the troubadour's about?"
"Stop it, Yennefer," Geralt said matter-of-factly, finishing his meal.
"Yes, you better stop all those horrific insinuations," the bard suggested, pointing his fork her way as if to emphasize the words. "No one wins from your bitter moods. I'm… I'm ready to part with a bottle of Erveluce if it makes your tongue at least a bit less venomous tonight. We are opening in a few minutes."
People began to come already, and the situation in the kitchen improved greatly when the second maid found her way to the inn. Priscilla came down to settle behind the counter while Dandelion and Zoltan were busy finishing dinner. The blonde bard nodded, smiling, at them.
Kain opened his eyes when Griffin croaked raising his head. The sun was setting, but it was still enough light to see Ciri approaching their campfire.
She found Kain with ease; she was getting better at this. She wandered over and gently lowered the food on the ground next to him, taking a seat.
"How's the head?"
"Better out here," he said, casting a brief gander at the bundle. "Smells like food, though we've eaten. Thank you."
Ciri shrugged, smiling a little. "Save it for later in case you plan to stay out here."
"I probably shouldn't. We can't predict what the Hunt will do and when they will."
"Just like your brother," she laughed softly. "That should disturb me and yet..." She shrugged once more.
Kain narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"
"Only that while I see him as a father figure, I refuse to do the same with you. And I am not calling you 'uncle', no matter how much Geralt teases me with it."
Kain looked dumbfounded. "What brought you upon that particular thought right now?"
"Just that you sound alike at times."
Kain's lips twitched in amusement. "I see. Is that strange for you?"
Ciri considered it. "Not as strange as I thought it might be."
Kain leaned his head back against Griffin's side and observed the campfire. "How was it in Vizima?"
"Much the same as yesterday. A lot of arguing, and him trying to convince me I belong at his side."
She paused.
"We got Fringilla, though."
"Good news, then. Did he just hand her over? No demands made?"
"There are always demands. People don't do things out of the good of their hearts."
"What did you have to agree to?"
"Once The Hunt is defeated, I have to go stay with him for a while. Let him try and convince me to agree to a coronation. It is a waste of everyone's time, but..." She shrugged. "Got us Fringilla."
Kain reflected on it a few seconds. "You think he genuinely wants to get to know you or you don't trust him one bit?"
"I think he needs me for his public image to improve. He doesn't want me because I am his daughter. He doesn't care. The way he looks at me... like I am a prize to be won..." She swallowed. "I don't trust anything about him."
Kain's mouth twitched expressing uncertainty. "Someone else's heart is a secret. Unless one reads things invisible to others. Not everybody has the perfect control, perfect ability to gain peace of mind. Therefore, their emotions can be read, if one knows how." He looked at her. "If you will have to spend some time with him alone, you might learn something if you choose to and pay attention."
"There is nothing about him that I want to learn. Being in his presence makes my skin crawl. In him I see myself being orphaned - twice. I feel the corpses piling up atop me as I try to crawl my way out of Cintra. I see assassins and bounty hunters, violent assailants and rapists.
"I hate him. The only good he ever did me was to promise me to Geralt while I was still in my mother's womb."
"Not the best way to think about one's father," Kain commented in a quiet, meditative voice. "Not completely undeserved, and yet... you know of things his actions and choices brought upon you. But what you also need to know is that not all of those choices might have gone as planned, nor not all of things he did you can take personally. What he feels for you, specifically, is still something unique, something you cannot generalize. Those who sit on thrones and make decisions for kingdoms are not always thinking like average people do, because you have to get into another mindset altogether to be a ruler. Strategies look past the faces at a larger scale."
Ciri scowled. "Why are you so eager for me to forgive the man who killed my family? Why should I give him a chance?"
"I'm not eager for anything, Ciri," he explained calmly. "All I'm saying is you judge him by just one side while he has another one you haven't seen. It makes your judgement incomplete. It's up to you what to feel and decide. But if you promised to spend time with him, you might as well try to read him better. This way it won't be a complete waste of time as you put it."
"Maybe," she conceded. Reading did not equal forgive or befriend. She may even be able to find some of his weaknesses. Just in case. "Anyway, it could be a long time until it happens. If it even happens at all. We're nowhere near defeating The Hunt."
"We can't know how far we are, or close. Better not draw any conclusions."
It was getting darker, and the sky turned darker shades of purple.
"Are you hungry?" He gestured to her bundle. "We have to go soon."
She shook her head. "I already ate. You have it, or give it to Griffin as a snack. If he likes his chicken cooked, that is?"
"He's not into chicken, let alone cooked, and I'm full for tonight. You can leave it for the wolves or dogs roaming the woods."
She grabbed the wrap and got to her feet, taking a few steps away from the makeshift campsite to throw the leftovers in amongst the trees. She wasn't sure if the napkin was of any importance to Dandelion, but decided to bring it back just in case it was.
Kain got to his feet with effort and turned to look at Griffin who got up and croaked in protest. He knew he was going to be alone again.
The beast pressed his head to Kain's chest as Kain scratched behind his ears. After a bit, Griffin detached from his friend and headed into the thicket. Kain watched after him with sad longing.
Just for a bit more, he thought. Just a bit.
"We walk back or..?" he returned his attention to Ciri.
"Depends on you," she said, gazing after the retreating griffin. "What would you prefer?"
"I do appreciate the natural way of getting from one place to another. But I don't know if the streets are any calmer."
She held out her hand to him, allowing him to choose whether or not they would travel by magic.
He cast another glance at the trees where Griffin disappeared, then took Ciri's offered hand.
She brought them to Kain's room where she knew no one who was not supposed to see them would. She took a moment to make sure the travel hadn't somehow worsened his head, then let go of his hand.
"Fealinn came through," she said with a small smile, holding up her bracelet for him to see.
"Good," he settled in the chair at the fireplace and lit the logs with a wave of a hand. "Nice work, must be a dwarven master. I see it doesn't limit you."
"It hasn't yet," she said, examining the piece of jewelry. "Does dimeritium work on druids?"
"I don't know, but I assume it has an effect on any mage of this world, aside from Elder Blood abilities."
"I assume you've never had experience with it before. Otherwise you'd know you're... different."
"It's a rare metal used for certain purposes by people hunting the mages. No one ever managed to get these shackles on me. I had no way of knowing."
"Can I get you anything?" Ciri asked, lowering her arm to her side. "Something to drink? Anything to help with the headache."
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You need your rest."
She nodded. "If you're certain. Wake me if you get worse." That way she would not have to worry too much for the rest of the night.
He merely smiled and didn't respond, knowing he wouldn't wake her in that case.
She left him to it and headed downstairs to inform the others they had made it back safely. No one needed to worry more than was necessary.
She stopped behind Geralt and leaned down over him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. "Back and safe."
"You both all right?" Geralt asked, reclining into her a little and turning to look at her with a smile.
"He's in pain but managing. Honestly, I think it's harder for him to stay here than it is to handle pain," she murmured.
"What do you mean?" he frowned.
"I think he misses his old life. The solitude, nature, his griffin."
"We all miss what was before the Hunt. You, me, and he does, as well."
"Sometimes I feel selfish for having fought so hard for him to come with us," she admitted.
"We wouldn't know we're brothers if you hadn't," Geralt said. "I do not know, however, whether it'd be for better or worse."
"For you or him?"
"Both. It's still a bit confusing for both of us. Though... now that I know, I wouldn't wish to forget."
"Perhaps you just need to spend some more time together," Ciri suggested. "Hopefully you will get the chance to after the battle."
"We'll see what happens after the battle. Too early to plan now."
She nodded and straightened. "I'm going to go have a bath. See you in the morning."
Ciri squeezed Geralt's shoulder, then Yennefer's, as she made her way past them towards the stairs.
She worked to fill the tub with hot water, since everyone at the inn seemed to either have gone home to hide or were busy elsewhere. She didn't mind. It just took her a bit longer before she could have her bath.
Once the tub was sufficiently full, she placed a chair in front of her door. It wouldn't keep anyone out but would give her a bit of a warning should anyone try to enter. Which people, in general, seemed to like doing whenever she was 'indecent'.
Ciri undressed and climbed into the tub, sighing contentedly. One hand sank beneath the water and snaked between her thighs. She leaned her head back against the wooden rim and closed her eyes.
She was ready to put this day behind her and forget her troubles. If only for a bit.