Ciri did not put her sword down until half an hour had passed. She had nearly slipped off the apex of the roof twice but had managed to regain her balance at the last moment. Enough to give her that delicious thrill of excitement in the pit of her stomach.
She removed the blindfold and took a seat, arms on her knees as she gazed out over the city. It was steadily filling up again with the people who had left before. Most looked entirely puzzled by the lack of destruction. But at least they were pleased. A lot better off than the inhabitants of Oxenfurt right now.
It seemed a waste for her to simply linger and wait while Triss and the others could make use of her help. But she imagined the hell that would break loose should Ciri leave before Geralt, Yennefer, and Kain. This was probably that reckless impulsiveness they continued to accuse her of.
So she waited, letting the sun warm her up from the outside in, at least taking pleasure in the fact that where she had left Eredin it was unlikely he would enjoy such a luxury.
When Kain returned to Novigrad, the sun was setting and people were slowly returning to the empty streets. They cautiously looked around, quietly talking to each other. The guards and Witch Hunters had been keeping their watch for too long and many of them were significantly drunk and exhausted.
Geralt was not yet up as Zoltan told Kain back at Rosemary and Thyme. The dwarf himself looked a bit run down, even though he had caught some sleep. The maids were back to help with cooking, and Kain was served fried vegetables with baked potatoes.
Zoltan sat down to eat with him - he had recently woken up himself.
Ciri saw Kain enter the inn and climbed back inside to join him downstairs. She found him with Zoltan. No sign of Geralt yet.
"Are we leaving?"
Kain and Zoltan raised their eyebrows. "We?" Kain asked. "Geralt and I are going back. I thought you would remain here in case anything still happens."
"No. I am coming with," Ciri informed him. "I've done my share of sitting idly."
"And if Novigrad gets attacked and we have no way of knowing at once? Because you would be the only one who could call for aid that quickly."
"We'll send a sorceress," Zoltan said uncertainly. "If we find any on time. Gods know where they all perch these days, which roof they picked." He scoffed and drank his ale.
Ciri gestured to Zoltan in agreement. "They're in their suite. Philippa and Margarita, that is."
She'd seen them peering out the window when she climbed off the roof.
Kain shrugged and said nothing, busy with his food. It wasn't any of his business.
"Seen Geralt?" Zoltan asked, peering at Ciri inquiringly.
"Not since I sent him to bed. Fairly certain Yennefer joined him, so..." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "They will probably be occupied for a while."
Zoltan chortled. Kain thought it made sense - otherwise Geralt would be ready to go. He wondered if he should wait or ride ahead in case Geralt wanted to stay longer.
"I will go fetch my coat." Ciri bounded back upstairs and to her room, fetching her jerkin and tightening the straps. It still had a few spots of blood on it, but she decided it did not matter. A thorough cleaning would have to wait until later.
"Ye didn't plan on her coming?" Zoltan asked, eyeing him shrewdly.
"I had no plans," Kain said. "It's up to Geralt and her what they decide between themselves."
"Aye, that's smart." The dwarf poured himself more ale. "That lass can't sit in one spot for long. Restless like a skittish mare." He smiled affectionately and drank.
Ciri stopped outside Geralt's door and, because she didn't hear any loud noises of passion coming from that particular room, she assumed that the people inside were sleeping.
She knocked. First once. Then twice. Then another. "Oy, get up or we leave without you!" she threatened.
Yennefer heard the commotion from outside the door, wincing slightly when she jerked awake. No!
She darted a glance at Geralt, her sleep evading. She still wanted to talk.
We're not done.
Geralt was reluctant to wake up. A subtle wince stroked through his features disturbing their peace, but he didn't move, nor respond.
No one called back, so Ciri headed back downstairs, taking a seat next to Kain while he ate and they waited. "Have you been to see Griffin? Is he alright?"
Scooping the remaining oil from the plate with a piece of bread, Kain nodded. "He's fine."
He's not a man of many words, Ciri thought. Even Geralt was more elaborate than his brother.
"Right." Ciri stood again at once. "I will go ready Kelpie's saddle. It could use a few adjustments. Come fetch me when we leave."
He looked at her with amused wonder. "You can get there instantly, and you want to ready the horse?"
"She might be taking after Geralt, after all," Zoltan commented. He gulped his ale, smacked his lips, then drawled, "Naaah."
She paused, eyeing Kain curiously. "Are you not riding? I assumed Geralt would. Getting him to travel by magic is like… pulling teeth from a rabid werewolf using a butter knife."
"I am riding," Kain confirmed. "I don't know about Geralt."
"That one's probably riding, all right," Zoltan said.
"Then so shall I," Ciri declared with a smile, heading for the stables to get herself ready.
"Geralt," Yennefer murmured, her nails brushing his chest, coaxing, encouraging him to open his eyes. "Geralt, wake up."
The Witcher winced, emitting a soft groan of protest. "What..."
She rolled and shifted until she was able to straddle him, determined to pin him down for as long as she could before the rest came barreling through the door and dragged him from the room.
"I'm hungry."
He smiled without opening his eyes. "For what?"
"Take one guess," Yennefer murmured. She let their naked lower bodies rub up against one another with determined resolution.
Her scent alone, sweet, enthralling, luring, was enough to get him ready. He reached for her neck and pulled her to him for a kiss.
Yennefer leaned down, brushing her lip against his, dipping her tongue into his mouth one last time before pulling back. "Everyone's downstairs and ready to head back to Oxenfurt. But before we go… about us—do you want to remember?"
The Witcher sighed, regarding Yennefer with a mixture of weariness and resignation. "I don't like to lose memory, Yennefer. But there is nothing I can do to remember it all on my own. I would have by now if that were possible. Maybe it needs more time, or maybe it needs something else. I just don't know what. No matter how many times you ask me - I have no answers. I wish I had."
"What do you feel?" Yennefer asked, staring down at him. "What do you want? You weren't very happy after I'd broken the wish. Are you going to be fine if I play with your head a third time? Do you even want to know me?"
He began to feel even more tired beneath the weight of all her questions. "How can I know what I want when I have nothing to compare to? What I've always known, this life of sole duty - you say it's a wrong memory. It's real for me. I don't know how to change it. I do like you a lot. That draw you mentioned. Ciri needs you. And the way you are now is different from what I remember. I just... Yen, I just have no time to sort it all out. We're at war, Ciri's in danger, as well as the rest of North, if we understood them correctly. It doesn't seem the right time to figure out my personal life and desires."
"It doesn't? What happens when one or both of us die in the next battle? Do you really want to leave it unresolved, Geralt? Not know?" Yennefer had to admit to herself that it hurt. She'd have hoped that he'd want to fight for her, that even though he didn't know her to the same extent she'd wished, that maybe he'd want to at least get to know her.
Geralt groaned in mild frustration, rubbing his face. Then looked at her intensely, "What do you propose I do right now? When I'm set to leave to solve Dijkstra's problems so that he wouldn't sell my - our - daughter out to angry people that get attacked because of her?"
"I suggest you give me a clear answer. Yes or no. Do you want to deal with this? With me? With us? Or would you rather we take the time to work it out the old fashioned way?"
He gave her a helpless look. "What does it even mean – the old-fashioned way? And how, hell, Yennefer, HOW do you propose I deal with it right now? What do you want me to do? Just tell me what."
"It means I want you to make a choice. Do you want to be with me? Work through our wish and see if we can bring back the memories we shared? Or would you rather fight me on it?"
"I don't want, nor have any time right now to fight you over anything, Yennefer," he said, and gently but firmly swept her off him and onto the bed, hovering over her for a moment to place a kiss on her lips. Then he slipped off the bed and began to pull his trousers on. "I told you – if I knew how to remember you and whatever we had and feel the same way, I would. I don't know how. If you know how – you should tell me. Maybe when I'm back from Oxenfurt."
"I was planning to go with you," Yennefer stated. "You don't need me there?"
"I'm not a seer," he smiled, pulling his shirt on. "I don't know what can happen. But any magical help to restore the city is welcome. Dijkstra's orders. If you could convince Philippa and Margarita to come and help, it will be wonderful."
"Not what I was asking, Geralt." Yennefer didn't even care that she was naked. She'd peeled off the covers, observing him with interest while he dressed, his smile was enough to make her a bit crazy. "Do you want me to come along?"
He buckled his jerkin, watching her with a pensive amusement.
"I do like you a lot," he said eventually. "If that is what you're trying to find out. I'm attracted to you, drawn to you. But I don't know you as well as you remember I do. I'm not opposed to spending more time together, but my priority right now is the Wild Hunt and Ciri. I don't care what happens to my personal life while she is in danger. She will always be my priority."
Geralt liked her. He didn't love her. He was almost talking to her as if he were trying to let her down smoothly. "Go," Yennefer added, using her hand to gesture to the door, to signal that he was free to leave when he was ready. Yennefer also knew the importance of keeping Ciri safe, of them working against the Wild Hunt and figuring out a new scheme. For now it was all about mending bridges. "I'll catch up."
She didn't like his answer, he could tell as much.
He nodded and picked up his sword belt. "Take Ciri and together try to convince the Lodge to come over and help Triss and Fringilla. Please."
"Ciri can go with you. I can take care of the Lodge."
"Ciri can get there within an instant," he said. "She will come when she pleases."
He approached the bed, leaned in to kiss her, then left the room.
Yennefer returned the affectionate gesture, watched him leave and then gathered her clothes together, repairing them with a practiced wave of her hand. Minutes later she'd pulled them on and headed out. She hadn't bothered to head downstairs, instead, she'd gone directly in search of the other sorceresses.
Geralt found Zoltan and Kain at one of the tables downstairs. They had finished their meals and Zoltan was sipping mead and sharing with the Cat witcher the specifics of cooking a steak.
"Geralt!" the dwarf greeted cheerfully and raised his mug. "I'll ask to bring yer supper."
Geralt sat down and poured himself a mug of ale.
"Ciri's preparing her horse to ride with us," Kain said.
Geralt frowned and nodded.
Ciri stepped back inside before too long. They were all taking their time.
"Look who's awake," she smirked once her eyes landed on Geralt. "Did you get some rest?"
"I'll manage," he smiled, and thanked the maid that brought him his plates.
Zoltan settled back at the table and downed his ale.
"And Yennefer?" Ciri asked, perching on the edge of the table. "Where is she?"
"She was in bed last I saw her," he said. "She will fetch Philippa and Margarita to help in Oxenfurt. If they agree, that is. I suggested she took you, but she seemed pretty sure of her power to convince them."
"You don't want them here in case something happens? For extra protection?"
"Dijkstra wants their help in rebuilding - he wants people to see less of destruction in the streets and square, to pacify them. They won't stay there for long."
"Clever," Ciri agreed, stealing a piece of carrot off Geralt's plate.
"Aye, that fat-arse spy's been rather clever," Zoltan put in. "He loves to manipulate."
"He's not wrong in his calculation," Geralt said. "The fewer reminders of that night, the better for people's sense of peace and safety."
"The more he can claim as his personal achievement," Zoltan added, clucking his tongue.
"Do you think he makes a good leader?" Ciri looked between Geralt and Zoltan. "Do you think he will do right by the people here?"
"What he does is not as much for people as for his own ideas about how it would be best," Geralt clarified. "He is a smart politician - no one can argue with that. But if we wouldn't have stopped him, he'd have killed Roche and his allies to sabotage the treaty with Nilfgaard, which would mean war. His goal was to unite Novigrad and Redania with Temeria under his own banner. He wants the North. He still does. What we did merely delayed him."
"And he honestly thinks he stands a chance against Nilfgaard?" With all the world-jumping Ciri had been through the past decade, it had become hard for her to keep up with local politics. "Isn't Emhyr and his army still quite feared by most?"
"Fear and ambition don't make good friends," the Witcher said. "Dijkstra is too ambitious to be afraid of Nilfgaard. Besides, he doesn't reveal his plans to me, and I don't know precisely how he intends to defeat Emhyr."
"With lots of spies and traitors of Nilfgaard, no doubt," Zoltan said. "I would bet my sweet life there be a lot of people eager to replace Emhyr with someone else."
Ciri was silent a while, thinking. "What do you two think? Know of anyone better suited than Emhyr for the throne? I am assuming you're not going to say Dijkstra."
"I'm a witcher, my dear Ciri," Geralt reminded with a smile. "I care not about politics. It's merely not something I am a part of. Nor would I ever wish to be."
"And I'm a dwarf," Zoltan added. "I care little about what humans cook in their palaces. All I care about is the trade conditions they offer my people."
"There is an heir, if I'm not mistaken," Kain uttered, taking a sip of water. "He's Emhyr's general, a talented strategist as far as I know. Some people would prefer him, but too few realize he is the next of kin. Everyone certainly has their own candidate in mind. It's always the case when it comes to thrones and crowns."
"Are you speaking of Morvran Voorhis?" Ciri shuddered. "I don't care for him. Too... slippery."
"Yes, him. If he seems slippery, it doesn't mean he is. People at court know how to keep up masks and appearances."
"I suppose." Ciri still did not like the man. Though she had to admit the reason could quite possibly be because he had simply been present before and after her talk with Emhyr. He was disliked by association.
"Ye better get going," Zoltan said when Geralt was done with his meal. "It's getting dark."
"Right." Geralt got up, and Kain followed. "Thank you for the supper, Zoltan."
"Don't mention it." The dwarf gave his back a friendly smack and got to gather the dishes. "Ciri, ye better warn yer Elf yer goin, so he doesn't plough my brain on how no one informed him."
"I have no idea where he is." Or where he might be now the sorceresses had taken over his suite. "Have you seen him?"
The witchers shook their heads and went outside to get the horses ready.
"I didn't count on Ciri coming with," Geralt confessed, saddling Roach. "We need to talk. Alone."
"We'll have to find another time, then," Kain said.
Ciri sighed and searched the inn, peeking into each room except for the sorceresses' but couldn't find the elf anywhere. Was he outside in Novigrad somewhere? Who knew what Avallac'h got up to these days when he was no longer as concerned with her as he had been? Truthfully, she was surprised he wasn't tailing Kain after the discovery he had Elder Blood.
She headed outside to meet the men and led Kelpie out of the stables. "He hasn't gone back to Skellige, has he? Avallac'h, I mean?"
"I don't have any solid idea what is going on in his head," Geralt admitted, mounting Roach. "He tells us less than he tells you."
"Well, I am certain he already knows I am going. Probably knew before I did," she muttered, climbing atop Kelpie and urging her into motion.
"Are you coming to not be around him?" Geralt asked.
Ciri looked his way. "No. I am coming because I hope I will be of some help. That I can do something other than sit and wait while everyone else is busy."
"Oxenfurt needs healers and builders," Geralt said, trotting ahead on Roach. "Novigrad, however, needs vigilant guards. We still know nothing about the Hunt's intentions."
"We can't prevent their strikes," Kain said. "All we can do is react when it happens."
Her eyes narrowed on Geralt's back. "Why do you not want me to come?"
"I didn't say that."
"No. Just implied there is no use for me in Oxenfurt."
"Aside from having you under my supervision at all times," Geralt turned to flash her a smile. "However, if you're skilled as a healer, Triss will be thrilled."
"Sometimes people need more than physical healing. Their wounds will heal and fade. The memories will not. The fear will not. If I cannot offer them anything for their injuries, I can at the very least offer them a shoulder to cry on or a willing ear to listen to their stories. I can be compassionate," she declared with a huff, throwing her hair over her shoulder and trotting past him and ahead.
The brothers exchanged amused glances and let her lead. They trotted out of the Eastern gate past another group of returning citizens and sent the horses into a gallop. It was already dark, and they wanted to be in Oxenfurt as soon as possible.
The city looked better now than it had last Ciri saw it. Of course, under the cloak of darkness, everything looked better.
A lot of the rubble had been cleared away from the streets, but many of the buildings were still severely damaged.
"Where are we going first? Dijkstra? Is he here?"
"First we see Dandelion and Triss," Geralt suggested. "And then you start helping them while we check the perimeter."
They left the horses at the nearest hitching post and headed to the clinic.
"You think The Hunt is still lingering?" Ciri asked, lowering her hood once they were on the doorstep of the clinic.
A redheaded blur was upon them as soon as they had opened the door. "Geralt! Ciri! Oh, it is so good to see you!" Triss exclaimed, hugging them both. She lingered a little extra with Geralt before fixing her gaze on Kain. "And you too, of course." Her smile was dazzling despite the exhaustion and stress that was visible on her face.
"Have you not rested since we went away?" Geralt asked.
"Of course we have, both Fringilla and I. It's simply too much work here to come back to, is all. It's all right, though. A lot of people still need help, and they respond well to our treatment." Triss regarded Ciri's leg. "Have you recovered, my darling? It's so good to see you up and feeling great again."
Ciri gave a gentle smile. "Can't keep me down for long." She took a gander around the clinic. It seemed to be filled to the max. "Anything I can do to help?"
Triss regarded her before gesturing to a large pot simmering over the nearest fireplace. "We could use some help distributing supper to the patients. They need nourishment to help them recover."
Ciri nodded. "Consider it done." She pushed up her sleeves and headed for the pot to start ladling out stew for the injured.
"Oh, you're back!" Shani approached, beaming. She looked Ciri over and her eyes shone with surprise. "Your leg is all healed! Is it magic? Of course it is, nothing else can work so quickly, unfortunately. I envy mages in that regard. I always have."
"Yes, I'm lucky to have some good ones on my side," Ciri agreed with a smile, carrying two bowls over to the nearest beds and the people in them. "That's not to say I don't appreciate your help."
"I did near to nothing," Shani admitted, watching the girl go, then turned to Geralt and Kain with a shiny smile. "So happy to see you back. I hope we'll have time to catch up… later."
"Of course," Geralt returned her smile. "Ciri's here to help with your patients. You need us for anything?"
"Unless your hidden talents include healing, you can hardly aid us here," Shani said, casting a glance at Triss.
"No, not here," Triss agreed. "Have you brought the Lodge?"
"Yennefer promised to fetch them."
"Good," Triss nodded. "That settled, we might want to leave Phil to deal with Sigi."
"We shall check the perimeter, then," Geralt said.
"You think there is a chance any more are… lurking?" Shani asked, her eyes widening, and looked between the witchers.
"We don't exclude any possibility at this point," Kain said. "We want to make sure we get no more surprises here."
"It would be wonderful to not have that night repeated," Fringilla said, coming up to them, her hips swaying. She smiled at the witchers, and Geralt had a flashback of how flexible and sultry the sorceress could be.
"Where is Dandelion?" the Witcher asked, looking between all of them.
"He's back at the Academy," Fringilla said, heaving a sigh as she rubbed her neck. "Has been aiding me with some repairs."
"He will probably come around, unless he decided to make it an early night," Shani said. "I'll go see who else needs their wounds redressed. Excuse me, and I hope we'll get a break to talk later." She smiled and departed to her team of medics.
"Please, tell me Dijkstra doesn't expect me," Geralt looked from one sorceress to another. They exchanged glances, and Fringilla shrugged.
"I don't think he does," Triss said, "but you would know if he did."
"Good. We shall get going, then."
The troubadour did, indeed, want to have himself an early night, but the need to be viewed as a bit more of a selfless individual than he actually was, he headed for the Clinic instead.
When he arrived, Geralt and Kain were gone, and he found Triss and Fringilla back at work with the more badly wounded, while Shani and her medics were distributing soup among those patients that were capable of keeping the food down.
"Ciri!" Dandelion called, grinning. "You're here! And you can walk!" He came up to her, waited for her to pass a bowl of soup to a wounded soldier, then hugged her.
"I always could. I simply chose not to walk," Ciri teased, brushing a few stray locks of hair from her face.
"You came with Geralt? Or Yennefer? Kain?"
"I came with Geralt and Kain. I think Yennefer will join us soon with Philippa and Margarita. If she manages to convince them to come. Have you eaten?"
"Not in a few hours, so it qualifies for no," he said, his mien turning sorrowful for a moment. "How about you? Rested? Feeling good? You gave us a scare."
She smiled affectionately at the bard while scooping him a helping of stew. "Shame on you for thinking a dagger to the leg could keep me down. I'm fine. Kain's healing skills are next to none."
"Don't tell that to sorceresses, they might get offended you take his aid over theirs." He looked down at the stew and grimaced, gently prying the bowl from her fingers to pass it on to the closest man with a bandaged leg. "No, Ciri. You and I shall go to The Alchemy now and enjoy the best dinner we can get in this city. Come on. Indulge me."
He took her hand and pulled her after him, dexterously weaving between the cots toward the exit. "It's one building away."
"But... I'm supposed to help..." Ciri said, throwing a look back at Shani. "We can't just leave them, Dandelion."
"It's not for long," he reasoned, dragging her after him outside where he got more pep into his step, anticipating a nice meal. "Just a dinner, nothing to keep you all night. They make the best mulled wine in Redania. You should try it."
She let him drag her away, despite the guilt that immediately bubbled up inside her. "I didn't bring any coin."
"You shouldn't worry," he said, coming up the three steps to The Alchemy porch and heading for the door. "Even if it brings you no wrinkles."
They stepped in and surveyed the hall filled with quite many citizens; the air buzzed with their discussions, some quieter, some heated. The innkeeper was wiping mugs behind the counter watching the crowds. He grinned as the poet walked up.
"Master Dandelion! So good to finally see you! I imagine you've been busy with all at the Academy. How bad is it?"
"It was much more pitiful than how I left it half an hour ago, Stjepan," the poet said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But I believe the beauty of our gardens and statues yet still holds a chance with magic. The sorceresses shall aid us with it."
"Oh, I see, I see. That is good news, as good as it can be under the circumstances." Stjepan regarded Ciri with interest and smiled. "Who is your pretty lady-friend?"
"Oh, it's... Ciri, our... my friend's... daughter."
The Innkeeper beamed. "Such an honor! What shall I serve you?"
"A nice and juicy steak with mashed potatoes and grilled vegetables for me," Dandelion said. "And your mulled wine."
"Right away, right away." He looked at Ciri with a sneer of appreciation. "And for the lady?"
Even on a night such as this, in an establishment that mostly served commoners, The Alchemy seemed too fancy for Ciri to fit in at the moment. She tugged uncomfortably on the collar of her bloodstained jerkin, nearly missing the question directed at her by Dandelion's friend.
"Oh. I'll have what he's having," she said, gesturing to the bard, only catching the tail of the man's leery gaze.
Swallowing the irrational urge to glare, Ciri took the lead in finding them a table, reluctant to sit at the bar.
Dandelion followed Ciri to the table she picked and sat down observing the patrons. Little to none granted them any attention, all consumed by their debates. Judging by the shreds of sentences and words that reached his ears, the poet decided they were pondering their further lives. The wars had raged before, and no less frightening than the night of the Wild Hunt, but even the Nilfgaardians didn't seem as demonic as the elves in their armor and fury, accompanied by hounds and magic.
"However soon we repair, they won't forget it as quickly," he mused.
"Of course they won't," Ciri said. "A lot of them have lost loved ones. That's not something you forget just because the city is put back together."
"Actually, the losses were minimized by our efforts," the poet said. "Most were at the Academy where Triss protected most of them. Only a few were on the streets."
Ciri frowned. "I could have sworn I saw the streets run red with blood. Maybe those memories are fabricated? Because that's how it usually goes when The Hunt attacks."
"It was the guards and the troops Dijkstra brought," the poet said. "They are nearly all dead or gravely injured."
Ciri shrugged. "Those people have families and loved ones, too."
"War is war," Dandelion sighed. "It never ends well."
"Does Priscilla have family in Novigrad? She was not at the inn."
"She went to Gors Velen - to arrange some performances for the future and to wait it out. I barely talked her into it. But she took some of our common friends performers. She was set to return in a few days or a week."
"Good. As long as she is safe."
One of the servants came over with their drinks. Once he left, Ciri fixed Dandelion with a mischievous look. "So... do you intend to marry her?"
He stared at her momentarily with wide, frightened eyes, then smirked with dark humor. "The day you marry, we shall discuss it."
She snorted. "Oh, please. No one would ever marry me."
"Don't be so certain!" the bard chided, laughing. "You're too pretty to think so. And who wouldn't want a woman so skilled with the sword. It's very... exciting. In a way."
"Simply speaking from experience, Dandelion. If anyone would want to marry me, it would be for the entirely wrong reasons."
She sat back when the server returned with their meal, quick to dig in. She was hungry.
"What reasons could there be when a lady is perfectly beautiful and also a bit dangerous?" The poet grinned cutting into his steak. "I tell you, it sounds enough for most. For any sane man."
"Power. They think I have it. They want it. It has nothing to do with me as a person."
"Oh, Ciri," the bard scoffed, chewing on the meat, "I didn't mean all those insane elves or mages. I meant the normal men who would care not about your powers, but about you and how wonderful you, Ciri, are."
Ciri looked at him, squinting. "Who are these men?"
"How would I know? You tell me, which men you have encountered? Which ones did you like? Which ones did you desire? Those men who you would want to marry."
"Well, no one has made the marriage list," she confessed, cutting a piece of her steak. "As for desire... there is only one. But he does not want me in the same way."
"So you've chosen!" he exclaimed, eyeing her with avid curiosity. "Do not worry, there is no one who wouldn't want to return your feelings. It would be an outrageous stupidity. Do I know him? I can kick his behind for your sake."
Ciri met his gaze pointedly. "You know who I mean."
His hand with a forkful of meat froze halfway to his mouth as he racked his brain eyeballing her. Then his eyes widened like coins. "Geralt's brother? Really?"
"He's not–..." Ciri cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "He didn't start out as Geralt's brother. He was the boy from my dreams. Literally. Someone I connected with, someone I felt close to without even knowing why. And I thought maybe, maybe I'd met someone who understood me, who understood my life and could handle that. That destiny was rewarding me for not giving up after all these years."
She lowered her gaze, aggressively cutting her steak.
"Then it turns out it had nothing to do with me at all. I was just an unknowing guide leading Geralt and Kain together. Reuniting them. Perhaps that was the very reason I was born in the first place. To reunite these two legendary brothers so the world could have their protection."
Dandelion's eyes were shifty, his hand slowly carrying the piece of steak to his mouth that was smiling in a silly manner. The lines of new ballads already danced around his mind with notes and melodies, distant and divine, meant to make people weep and make wishes upon the falling stars for a love as grand and magical.
She recognized that look in his eyes and immediately pointed at him with her knife. "Don't you dare capitalize on my pain, Dandelion! I mean it. I will drop you in a different world and never return! Do you hear me?"
Dandelion dropped his fork with a loud gasp. "Ciri! You would do that to me? And rob Geralt of the best friend he ever had? And this whole world of the beauty and music I gift it? How is this possible? Oh, how?!"
"Oh, I would," she said, continuing her meal. "You have no idea how vengeful I can be."
"But... Ciri! We are a family! You don't do that to your family! I knew you as a child!"
"And family don't gossip about each other's misery. No matter how much coin or fame or... sex it awards them."
"I would never gossip! How can you even call my music gossips! It's horrible! A horrible day when the apple of my eye calls me a cheap gossiper! Woe is me! How can I live with it! And how can the world live without my ballads that uplift them and make them believe in miracles and love while all they have in their lives is misery and dirty cots with bedbugs to sleep on!"
She grinned, amused by his dramatics. "I love you, Dandelion. You are one of my favorite people. And I would so like to be able to confide in you and know what I tell you won't go any further. That creates trust."
"But it never does! If I relay an idea or two into my works, it sells no secrets! Who do you think I am!" He flashed her an indignant look of noble hurt and shoved a piece of steak into his mouth, chewing vigorously. Another thought came to him, placing a frown on his brow. "You spoken to him about it, then? Or you confided in Geralt? I wonder if he's more open with his brother, for if they have anything in common it's that stoic nature that one cannot read. They both are so equally hard to get to know! Frustrating people."
"I've told him. He doesn't feel the same. It is simple, really."
"He told you that? That he felt nothing for you? Dear Ciri, it doesn't really seem that way from the side. He looks at you very... tenderly." He swallowed some mashed potatoes and washed it down with mulled wine, smacking his lips in pleasure. "Besides, take Geralt for an example. If they're related, there are the same issues with expressing feelings."
"I am sure he does look at me tenderly. Like his brother's ward." She took a sip of her drink. "I have not asked him for declarations of love. Only to let me know whether or not there was a chance our friendship could eventually grow into something more. And from everything he told me in return, my conclusion is no."
Dandelion hemmed pensively, chewing. "Perhaps you misunderstood things he said in return? I don't suppose you - much like your Witcher - are skilled in this fine art of romance. It takes a lot of wisdom and even more experience."
"I kissed him. He did not kiss me back. I said I wanted him in my bed. He ignored it. What am I supposed to think?"
Dandelion clucked his tongue and smiled mysteriously. "There might be things you don't think about due to your youth and passionate blood. And yet it might be a plethora of reasons for his reluctance. His brother is like a father to you, your... Yennefer is a menace on her own accord, and there is always a trouble to deal with, and there might be some old flame he cannot forget... The list can be continued."
She shrugged. "They all still result in him not wanting to be with me the way I do him. It will cause me less pain if I simply let go of my stupid notions of love and focus on, you know, not getting kidnapped."
"That's just sad," the poet commented, eagerly working on his dinner. "The grand romances always take time. Look at Geralt and Yennefer. The years it was taking them to simply not fight or argue while in the same space... argh! And now that damned wish."
"I was never looking for grand romances. I just wanted something more than... this." Her meal mostly consumed, she pushed her plate aside. "And don't get me started on Geralt and Yennefer. I'm losing my faith more and more each day."
"Losing hope is wrong," Dandelion sighed, refilling their cups. "They'll get through it. If she broke it, she will find a way to fix it." He sipped his wine and gave her a meek smile, "At least you will know by example what not to do in your own romances."
"Don't involve a djinn?" she ventured.
"Among other things, yes." He grinned.
"I should get back to the clinic," Ciri said eventually. "I came here to help. Surely there must be something I can do other than serve dinner. Like redress wounds."
Dandelion's face got gloomier, he sighed and refilled his cup. "They've been treated with magic and dressings all day long. Another few minutes without your expert hands won't change anything, Ciri."
She sat back, watching him. "Why is everyone so against me trying to help? Am I that much of a bother?"
"Of course not. We haven't seen each other for a long time, and after all the stresses and horrors, I'm enjoying a moment of peace with you. Is that wrong?"
"No," she smiled. "In fact, it's lovely. I'm sorry, Dandelion. I'm just... my head is filled with silly insecurities."
"But I'm here," Dandelion said, spreading his arms grinning. "I have time and experience. I can hear you out and offer advice. Tell me about it. What can a perfect child like you be insecure about?"
"That. That is one," she pointed out. "The whole child thing. It's one thing for everyone to feel protective of me, but at times they all act as though things would be better if Avallac'h knocked me out and sent me to that magical island again. Safe and out of everyone's way."
Astonishment stroked through Dandelion's face. "That's... It can't be true, Ciri! Geralt has been near insane and restless every day of not having you around. He would never allow anyone to throw you away on some island. What makes you think that?"
"He didn't want me to come here. I could feel it. And Kain questioned it at first as well. Whenever there is something to be done, everyone always agrees I should stay behind. Preferably within the confines of your inn. In bed."
Dandelion sighed, peering at her with compassionate warmth. "That time while Geralt didn't know where you were didn't do him any good, Ciri. He's been having nightmares and thinking he failed you in the most horrid way. And now he's so scared to lose you, to have anyone take you away when he won't be able to stop it, it might create problems between you. Your reunion is still fresh, and he wants to protect you from everything. If you had children, you might understand him." He sipped his wine.
"I do understand him. And I appreciate how he feels. But him trying to protect me feels a lot like him pushing me away at times. And that hurts. I want to be with him always. I know that is impossible, but that is how I feel.
"I want to reassure his anxieties, but I also need to have my freedom to choose how to act and what to do. I just want him to realize I am not as incapable and fragile as he thinks me to be."
"You scared them a lot with your stunt during the battle," the poet reminded. "You scared me, too - that wound was nasty. He might be still digesting that chance he had to lose you again. You were in danger and he could do nothing."
"You think I don't fear for him every time he goes out to battle? When he goes to see Dijkstra to participate in his lethal schemes? Or even just slaying monsters? Of course, I do. But I would never try to stop him from doing what he felt was right."
She leaned back in her chair and threw her hair over her shoulder.
"And it wasn't a stunt. That was me saving someone I care about. I refuse to apologize for it. It was worth it. Would always be worth it."
"I never said you had anything to apologize for. But Geralt is Geralt. There's close to nothing we can do to correct his behavior. Unless you ask Yennefer to talk to him. Or hell, maybe his brother. I mean, he seems to have replaced me with him, so you might want to use that fact to your advantage. It's not like he ever listened to me and my reason much. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. Every now and then..." He stared into space dramatically and drank.
"Not sure he and Yennefer are on good enough terms for him to listen to her," she murmured, then eyed Dandelion curiously. "You feel you've been replaced?"
He pondered and shrugged uncertainly. "Where is he now? I would bet he's with Kain. Normally he'd be here with me and you." He looked at her with a you-decide expression and finished his drink.
"Would you usually tag along when he is scouting perimeters for danger?" she asked, surprised. "Outside of your travels, I mean?"
Dandelion scoffed derisively. "I could."
"But would you want to?"
"It wouldn't hurt him to ask," he huffed.
"Well, you should tell him. Volunteer for the chores he is doing."
"What's the point when he has a perfect partner now who never gets in trouble, is a witcher himself, and can level an army with magic alone?"
"Kain is amazing." Ciri leaned in as if delivering a secret. "But he lacks certain traits you have in abundance. You can be certain Kain is not singing to Geralt. Nor challenging his way of thinking. You do that."
"And you think Geralt enjoys being sung to or challenged? No, my darling Ciri, he does not."
She shrugged. "Doesn't mean he doesn't need it."
"He turns very unpleasant whenever I believe he needs it, and then I have to put up with his endless sulkiness and brooding."
Ciri smiled. "You're talking yourself out of being his friend now."
"No. I merely refuse to chase him when it's obvious where his preferences lie." He downed the remaining wine and stood up. "Let's go back to your sick and wounded. Those at least do need you."
She stood as well and, quite uncharacteristically, slid her arms around Dandelion, hugging him to her. "You have a special place in my heart. No one could ever replace you."
It was important he knew. Maybe it would bring him some comfort when he felt blue.
He smiled despite the mood to sulk, and so they walked out, his arm around her waist as he hummed the melody from one of his ballads.