"I'm sorry," Geralt repeated for the hundredth time since he had join Yennefer in the kitchen.
Without glancing in his direction even once, the sorceress put the soap aside on the porcelain tray in the shape of witch hazel leaf, cleared her throat as if she was about to speak, but then instead of talking, she reached for a towel to finish the washing ritual.
"Yen, say something," the Witcher buzzed again, this time around supporting his plea with a rhythmic sighs. "I know I did something wrong. I know-"
"You do?" she snapped back and almost instantly recognized in herself a strange urge to revenge Avallac'h and his buttocks. Or maybe that was something else entirely? "You were supposed to spend this morning with me. You promised. Instead you end up in the forest and shoot innocent people in the limbs?"
Geralt didn't reply.
Yennefer placed the towel next to the soap bar and moved towards the fireplace. She reached her hands out towards the fire and enjoyed for a bit the pleasant warm before speaking again.
"It's not funny, Geralt," she started again, much calmer now. "You pierced one of the arteries. You're lucky he did not bleed to death. The worst isn't over yet. You could make him an impotent man. What were you thinking?"
Geralt did not explain.
"That's not even the point," she hissed and took in her hands one of the empty copper pots which lied supported on the brick wall of the fireplace.
"What is then?" the Witcher asked, still standing in the other corner of the room.
Are you going to stand like this or will you freaking help me, she cursed under her breath but didn't say aloud. She dragged the pot towards much bigger and fuller one and began to sink it in gently, but quite quickly the weight of the water took it under the surface.
"Our wedding," she replied.
The bottoms of the pots met each other, releasing a muted, metallic sound. Yennefer was about to try to retrieve it when Geralt unglued himself from the wall and pre-empted her.
"We still have enough time for that meeting in Toussaint," he said, cringing when his hands started to dive under the ice-cold water. "Frankly speaking it's just formality. They said they'd give it to us anyways."
"I know."
The Witcher reached and then almost pulled the pot out. "What is it then?" he said, clambering towards the stove.
"I don't want to."
"Well, that's new." He placed the pot on the stove and halted for a moment, glancing at her. "You don't want to marry?"
"I do want to marry," she assured him but without a hint of enthusiasm. She felt almost guilty and it frustrated her. "Castel Ravello was however your idea. So was that whole white wedding thing. I was willing to comply, to survive the awkwardness and all the nonsense linked to it but I had more than enough time to think about it this morning and-"
"We can't have a tiny ceremony," Geralt grunted. "We discussed it. I really don't want people to feel offended."
"People?" she chuckled, skimming through the collection of the herbs hanging above the fireplace. She found without trouble some salvia or rosemary, and then a lonely twig of berberis - enough for Avallac'h's bath. "So anything I feel or want isn't important? Mood of your guests is?"
"I didn't say that, but our wedding isn't our decision only."
"This I know," she said, throwing the herbs into the pot and bit too sour than she wanted to be. "Haven't you realised we had no control over our lives from the very beginning? From day one there was always something wrong. I thought Toussaint would change it but it seems nothing can."
"You piece of shit," yelled Eskel, loudly shutting the door after himself and moving fastly in their direction. "You fucking rat. Are you happy?"
The white-haired Witcher did not have time to ask questions. Before either of them knew what was going on, he was lying on the floor with his hands pressed protectively to his nose. Eskel who knocked the Witcher down stood above him, panting like a wild animal. His tightened fists suggested otherwise but Yennefer knew the worst was over.
"You don't love her," started the dark-haired Witcher, pausing between every word. "She wanted to be with you and you rejected her. So stop ruining her life. You have no right to do that to her, to treat her like this. She's not your possession. You hear me? Leave her alone or I'll make sure you will."
Accordingly with her suspicions, Yennefer found Triss in the bedroom the Sorceress shared with Eskel. Just as she suspected, she caught her red-handed, inclined over a suitcase on the bed and stuffing it with her belongings. Nothing in the Magicians actions had surprised her and how could it possibly had?
Yennefer passed the threshold and closed the door after herself. She didn't try be quiet. Triss spotted her presence almost instantly. A pair of unnaturally glassy eyes fixed on her, hardly masked by the equally unnatural shade of redness at the Sorceress' cheeks.
"You came here to feast on the view, didn't you?" Triss hissed, before hiding herself behind the only chair in the room. Her awkward movements made the ivory-pink fur coat hanging from it fell. The Enchantress tried to pick it up, just as awkwardly.
Yennefer moved closer to the centre of the room where the chair and Triss were. The other Sorceress hissed again, resembling more and more an enraged cat. She did not yield back and couldn't tell herself why.
"I will leave," she started, picking from the ground one of Triss's endless stockings, "when you tell why my beloved fiancé got beaten up."
Triss looked at her questioningly.
"Eskel broke Geralt's nose. He was also quite plain in explaining his reasons, which is why I came here."
Triss nodded and took a seat on the bed. Yennefer spotted that the Sorceress's hands weren't empty. She clutched in it a piece of fabric that as she suspected was supposed to be an undershirt - was supposed to, because the creased cloth ceased to resemble it anymore.
"I made a mess, didn't I?" she said suddenly, sniffing like a rabbit with a particularly nasty runny nose. Her words were more a plea than a statement Yennefer noticed.
"You did," she replied. "What do you expect me to say, Triss?"
"Nothing," sighed Triss, crossing her legs. Her white chiffon nightgown moved up enough to expose a particularly ugly burn scar. The Enchantress must have been got used to it by now. She covered it up with no looking and almost without delay. "I didn't fool him, you know. I really love him."
Yennefer wasn't sure if that was an answer to her question or something the Magician simply felt like saying. Triss went silent and came back to sorting the pile of clothes lying on the bed. She retrieved from it another chiffon nightgown, this time around in a shade of carnation pink.
"I had to finish it," Triss added, placing the piece of clothing in the suitcase and just when Yennefer begun to suspect the chat had languished. "I love him but it could not end any other way. There's no other way."
"If you say so," she replied, not hiding lack of emotions.
"I really love him."
"Well, you weren't particularly good in showing it," she snapped, running her fingertips along the complicated floral motif on the stocking that somehow was still in her hands. The black eye of blue jay was staring at her from the fabric, unflinching and dead.
The way in which she had done it was supposed to ensure her former friend that her words had little to do with compassion and likely excelled at its job. She cursed under her breath seeing the other Sorceress's lips bend into a horseshoe.
As always, thought Yennefer with reproach, seeing Triss now properly hyperventilate. She does something stupid and then hides her head in the sand while others do the donkey work for her. On other occasions, Yennefer was the one obligated to talk some sense into her, to make sure her decisions were at least a bit reasonable. They had been friends after all.
They had been. That had stopped because that was what Triss had chosen.
"You're unbelievable," she snorted. "Fuckin' unbelievable. It's not you who has the right to look for comfort. No, my dear. He was honest with you while you played with his feelings. You made a decision, so at least be a bit consistent."
"I'm trying but it's hard."
"That Triss," said Yennefer, making a step back, "is not my problem."
She took another step and then another, ignoring completely now-desperate sobbing of her former friend.
"Yenna, please don't go," Triss whispered when she was halfway to the door.
Yennefer took a deep breath and turned around. Triss was glancing her her, visibly fighting back the waves of tears.
"What I was supposed to do, Yenna?" the auburn-haired Sorceress asked, so calmly she almost managed to fool Yennefer it wasn't an attempt of emotional blackmail. "I love him but I'm afraid. I'm afraid he'll notice it like others did… That he will figure out I don't deserve it. Him. That he will figure out I'm worthless. Yenna, I have not yet met a man that wanted to stay."
Yennefer sighed.
"Please, Yenna."
She crossed the distance between them and took a seat beside Triss on the mattress. Neither of the two was raring to be the one to start. For a good moment, the only noise Triss's breath, rapid and shallow but also gradually calming down.
"Geralt says he loves you," she begun after a while, more and more angry at herself. "I think he may be right. He knows him like no one else. They share all their secrets."
"He does?"
"He does," she repeated. "Even when you said no, all he was thinking of was you and your happiness. He thinks Geralt is a dog in the manger and keeps you from being happy. I still hope he's not." She paused for a moment. "Eskel is a good man. That's said, good men disappoint and betray too but not as often as others. Still, I think he would never offer it to you if he wasn't sure. There's one question left. Do you love him?"
"I do."
"Well, that makes it a lot easier."
Triss brought her hand to the tip of the nose and sneezed loudly. "Yenna, don't make fun of me."
"I'm not making fun of you," Yennefer replied and handed the other Sorceress her own handkerchief. Triss used it almost instantly, her eyes however didn't leave Yennefer's even for a second. "I would never make fun of this topic. As little sense as it makes, sometimes it's better to act and not to overthink it. Maybe stay naive even. I don't know… I don't think there's a way to explain it, let alone a way to predict the outcome, but sometimes taking risk pays off. Even a huge risk. You think I wasn't scared when things with Geralt got serious? I was terrified, but I also knew how it felt to see him move on. To find out I lost my chance, to witness someone else take my place."
"I'm sorry."
"Well, Eskel is downstairs."
"Not for that," her former friend mumbled, folding the used handkerchief into a tiny triangle, "for other things."
"It's been and gone. Apologies won't make it any better or worse."
"I know they won't. It's just," she paused, her fingers pressed the cloth hard to her thigh. Then her cornflower-blue eyes fixed on Yennefer's again. "I've never apologised to you."
"You don't need to."
"But I want to. I was a terrible friend to you."
Yennefer set her eyes on one of Eskel's shirt hanging on the open door of the closet. It differed significantly from the majority in Geralt's collection. The fabric was almost snow-white despite the signs of mending and button stitching and oppositely to Geralt's shirts, it was faultlessly ironed.
"How did it happen? You and Eskel?" she asked, surprised by her own nosiness.
"I invited him to Pont Vanis to help with a katakan in the castle. Tankred's order."
"That doesn't explain how you ended up in the bed together."
"That my dear," said Triss, much more alive than before, "was the effect of a glass of wine too much from my side. Then we stopped requiring wine to feel that way. Then the winter came and Lan Exeter. Eskel being Eskel haven't seen himself in a committed relationship, so we split. To our luck, the snow melted and along with it our insecurities. Then it started to be amazing. We've made love every night in the last eight months."
"Am I supposed to feel jealous?" Yennefer chuckled. "Responsible Eskel got scared, who would have thought?"
"Yenna, I know you'll never forgive me. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I'm here if you want to talk."
"You know?"
"Nenneke," said Triss and reached for her suitcase. Yennefer glanced subtly inside but she was more interested in the decision the Sorceress clearly made than its content. "She was pretty discrete but I figured it out nevertheless. She still thinks it can be pregnancy, but I agree, it is very unlikely. Not that I've seen many sorceresses with hydatidiform mole but it's still way more probable. Nevermind. How do you feel?"
"How can I feel?" she replied and took a look at the lonely pair of Eskel's moccasins in the closet, again being impressed by the level of the Witcher or Triss' neatness. "In the best case, they're going to cut everything out. In the worst, it's just the beginning of the problems."
"You know for sure?"
"I gained in the correct places and don't keep food for longer than an hour. I took three blood tests. Besides I could not conceive the last time I checked. Sounds convincing enough?"
"Have you decided when and where?"
"Yes," she said, going through a vast collection of belts, all rolled neatly, most likely for space saving purposes. "Druids seem to have best reputation in treatment of molar pregnancy. Who even came up with this stupid name? Nevermind. In two weeks time, I'll have the surgery. Then the recovery. By April and the wedding I should be alright again. I won't even have a scar; as if nothing happened."
"Is Geralt coming with you?"
"Gods no."
"We can arrange it in Kovir if you wish." Triss jumped up from the mattress. Yennefer signed seeing the closet doors close. "We have two really good surgeons. And you'd always have someone to talk to. We would do some more testing before the surgery, just to make sure it is really essential. Excuse my candor, but I really think you shouldn't go through that alone."
"Frankly this is all I want now, Triss. I want the surgery and I want to go through it alone."
"I don't believe you."
"Better start to."
She was telling the truth. The illness and the surgery while should have lightened fear in her, made her surprisingly soppy instead, reminded about memories she wished she had forgotten forever. The tall mountain of childhood years started to place a shadow on reality again, redefining it, setting its limits. Not to mention the other issue.
Yennefer had not let her body fool her for even a moment. Indeed, it took her a while to notice the symptoms, but then she hadn't let them give her hope for something different even briefly. Still these extra four inches in her waist were hard to ignore and so were the thoughts and speculations they brought to mind. Hypothetical questions and constructs they made seem so attractive and that would ultimately never become anything solid.
"Stop thinking about it," Triss snapped. "I know it's hard but you can't think about it, especially not like this. Not now. And not all is lost. Having children isn't only about passing your genetic material. There's much more needed. You have Geralt."
"What does he have to do with it?" Yennefer chuckled, now for a change fixing her eyes on the bouquet of pink roses and a pair of golden earrings on the bedside table.
"Everything," Triss replied with confidence. "The very same reason I am not a mother yet. I want to have someone to complain to about morning sickness and stretch marks. I want to feel happier than ever when the baby kicks for the first time, when he or she is born. To bring them up with someone who loves them as much as I do. Nature gives children two parents for a reason."
"Those priceless fathers," started the dark-haired Sorceress, "often stop to be so priceless when the woman gives birth to fourth girl in row. Or one of the children looks surprisingly a lot like the neighbour, or is handicapped in some way. If every woman was still waiting for the perfect man, we as a genus would be long gone. And nothing compares to holding your newborn baby in your arms. Nothing else matters then. Loneliness. Pain. Nothing."
"But dreaming of perfect family isn't forbidden, is it?"
Yennefer came back to all those days, to every morning when she could not drag herself out of bed, tired after another night of terrible nausea and not once more than that. And what if she wasn't alone back then? What if the circumstances were different? More favourable ones.
She would have told Geralt the first moment she had known and from that moment onward everything would have been much easier. They would be calm and patient. She would take it slow at least in the first week or two, getting carried away in seeking for new garments rather than new concealing spells. Then things would come back to normal for some time. Well, if one can call normal their cyclical meltdowns over nursery, pets, the length of Yennefer's break from the work, Nenneke's attempt to rule their little kingdom and other things that in this moment felt impossibly distant. They would have spent Yule in Kaer Morhen, quite likely using it as a great opportunity to announce. Then the spring would come and the time for delivery. They would have argued again whether Geralt should be present in the room when it happens. She would be against it at first but then when the pain kicks in, she would likely not care. They would waste a week at least, looking for a name for her - another, tinier Ciri. They would notice that the answer was right before their eyes and the name should begin with C, like Celeste, Cecily or Cybil. They would go with Clara.
"No, it is not," she whispered.
At first she was afraid he had changed his mind. Then, when they reached the ground floor, she grew more and more convinced he would not want to speak to her at all after all these, most likely guided by his hurt pride. By the kitchen door, she was sure he would be gone, but Eskel did not fail to surprise her this time as well. He sat on the tiny stool next to an identical one which Geralt was occupying. His face was turned in the other witcher's direction, perhaps to allow better investigation of Nenneke's actions.
"Your nose looks alright but the brow. Two stitches," commented the Archpriestess, pressing the wound dressing to Geralt's temple. "Did you intend to kill him? I haven't a clue what's wrong with you lately. It wasn't even an hour since I finished patching Avallac'h. This testosterone storm needs to cease - you hear me."
"Yes, we hear you," replied Geralt, his voice sounded a bit muffled. "Believe me Nenneke, nobody planned it."
"Sorry, Geralt," said Eskel, hissing loudly as his knuckles finally got some attention from the Archpriestess. "I got carried out. I promise. It won't happen again. Never fought over a woman and won't start now."
"No offence taken," replied the white-haired Witcher. "Have a guest, I believe."
He had indeed. Yennefer emerged from behind one of the endless pillars in the kitchen and not long after her Triss. Eskel spotted her almost instantly.
She froze for a moment when he rose from his seat and begun to move in her direction but it turned out to be totally unnecessary. His eyes and smile betrayed anything but anger or disappointment.
"Were you crying?" he more stated than asked, standing now only inches away from her.
Triss nodded. The neatly prepared speech she kept revising in her head all at once disappeared, leaving her confused and scared.
"Are you better now?" Eskel asked again.
"It depends," she blurted in reply, praying in spirit she would have enough courage to say those words. And she found it, praising her stars for letting her do things right just this once.
"Eskel will you do me the honour of marrying me?"
It felt so in reach when she had finally said it. And then in the warmth of Eskel's embrace, she started to recall what Yennefer had said. And she wasn't afraid at all.
"For Eskel. If you could get there, anyone can," said Lambert with a vast smile on his thin lips and a glass of wine in his hand. "Seriously man, I thought it was a miracle when you lost virginity but this..."
"For Eskel and Triss," repeated the Archpriestess, almost sitting the youngest of Witchers down with her stare. "Enough of those toasts for now. You'll get more than enough of them in the months to come. Talking of which, maybe you could organise your wedding along with Yennefer and Geralt, it would speed things up."
"That would be great." Smiled Triss in reply, her words could not contain more lies. It was barely an hour since their engagement but Nenneke managed already to come up with at least ten different plans and suggestions, three of which the Sorceress classified as red flags for her reign in the household. The first item on the wedding list became then the discussion with Yennefer on how to keep the Archpriestess at the safe distance.
"There's a free spot in Castel Ravello," Geralt suggested out of the blue. "Early September as far as I recall. May make sense to ask if they gave it to someone already. It's quite expensive but they take care of almost everything. After Yennefer, I'm pretty sure they are able to satisfy everyone."
"Have you managed to take care of your own reservation?" Nenneke cut in.
"No," Yennefer slurred, before taking another bite of her brisket. "Geralt was in the mood for some fresh air instead. He will deal with it tomorrow. On his own, while I spend the quality time with our daughter as we had it planned. And I won't accept any negotiations on this one."
"Geralt?" asked the Archpriestess in the tone which seriousness Triss was beginning to understand, and more importantly its value. She likely wasn't the only one. The other Sorceress who until now hadn't seemed to be particularly interested in the conversation, suddenly became more vivid.
"He will do it, Nenneke," the raven-haired Sorceress blurted. "He has no other way. Eskel should keep him company. We in turn can focus on bringing the old baths back to life. Don't know how you ladies but my bones would use some extra pampering. Triss do you have any plans?"
"Me?" asked Triss, utterly surprised Yennefer plans included her at all. "No. I don't think so."
"Good, you're coming with us."
"They look nice, don't they?" Geralt started, joining Yennefer in her contemplation at the balcony. His hands as often lately found their way to her waist, pulling her close to him.
The Sorceress held her breath, unable to shake the feeling he would notice it. No, he could not possibly know.
"They do," she replied after a good while, letting her guard down completely. The high-pitched squeal of Triss and not much quieter laughter of Eskel reached them from the backyard below.
Eskel, do that again and-
The auburn-haired Sorceress didn't have a time to finish, suddenly scooped by her fiance.
"Curious what would YOU do if I hit you with a snowball," Geralt asked, playfully.
"You don't want to know," she purred in reply, watching the engaged couple now make out in front of them, their hands time and time again tried to visit the spots they should never touch in public. Her eyes focused then on the rabbit fur decorating the hood of Triss's jacket. Rabbits indeed.
"Stop whatever you are doing, I'm coming," grunted Ciri, about to conquer the last set of stairs separating her from Yennefer and the Witcher.
"Do what, sweetie?" asked the Sorceress, reaching for the tray with jugs of mulled wine the girl brought with her.
"Triss and Eskel. They make me wanna puke."
"You exaggerate," Geralt muttered in his casual baritone. "Thought they are relatively reserved in this regard. It's a huge moment for them. Let them cherish it for a bit. If you only knew what Yen and I did when-"
Yennefer's elbow finished quicker than anticipated the last bit of Geralt's story.
"I believe there are parts of other people's lives… A very intimate parts of other people's lives that no one should know about."
"Must agree," Ciri sighed and hopped in on the stone guardrail. She reached for the basket of tangerines she brought along with the wine, took one and wiped it with the fabric of her jumper. "Would not want others to know about my shit. It would be embarrassing. Humiliating in many ways. Not that there is much to talk about."
"Really?" asked the Witcher, enclosing his fist around the jug Yennefer passed him. "Nothing interesting in your life?"
The girl placed the peeled fruit in her mouth.
"Not that I know," she slurred.
Geralt swung gently on his feet which instantly drew the Enchantress's attention.
"You sure? Really nothing? Not a tiniest thing you'd like to discuss?"
"Stop interrogating her, Geralt," she chuckled, patting his back gently. To her bewilderment the atmosphere did not improve much. "What is it?"
"She's pregnant, Yen."
Ciri burst out laughing.
"It's not funny, Ciri," Geralt mumbled, now for a change grumpier than usual. The jug in his hand got emptied not long after. Yennefer felt a strong urge to follow his example. "You've been nailed. The game is over."
Ciri reached for another fruit. The ritual of peeling began again.
"I'm not pregnant," she blurted, not looking at either of them even briefly.
"You're an adult," Geralt started again. The adrenaline running in Yennefer's veins was making her feel weak at her knees already. "No one's going to blame you. All you can expect from us is understanding. Just tell us the truth. Is this why Avallac'h is here?"
"Gods no," replied the girl, cringing. "And chill down. I'm not."
"Sure you're not," he chuckled but got serious right after. "We know you are, so let's not make it even more ridiculous that it is already. Avallac'h has nothing to do with it? Who are you protecting then?"
The Witcheress tore the fruit into two halves and passed one of them the Sorceress. "One last time, I swear I'm not pregnant."
"Someone decided to try the adult life with you, so now make them take the responsibility for it. He didn't know how to protect himself, he shouldn't have done it in the first place. As I said, I don't blame you. Just tell us the truth. You're old enough to have sex but not enough to be honest we the closest people you have?"
"I'm not pregnant, Geralt."
"We will help you. But if there's a chance you can get some help from the father too-"
"There's nothing to help me with."
"Geralt!" Yennefer managed to finally interrupt. "I think she would have admitted to that by now if that was the case. How did you find out?"
"Eskel mentioned the blood tests. All came back positive. We can't leave it like this."
"Congratulate that person from me," said the girl and reached her hand for another citrus fruit. "It's not mine. Want me to show you my forearms or better the bump I don't have? It would be so in your style. Is this why you shot Avallac'h? Because he's a threat to my womb? And what now, I shall be afraid to have sex for the rest of my life because you would make me marry anyone who accidentally knocks me up?"
"Yes. If they don't know how to act like men themselves."
"What is manly in your opinion?" Ciri said in a rather opinionated manner. "A house with a garden, husband and a dog?"
"In your case - yes," the Witcher murmured.
"The parish priest forgets that he was a parish clerk. How many women did you sleep with before finally settling down with Yen?"
"You're insolent."
"And you've lost your marbles."
"Just don't want you to protect a moron who doesn't deserve it. I think this is exactly what's going on now. I just don't believe you agreed to be so carefree. You know what's at stake, what sort of future hangs over you and your potential baby. Well, if you did, then you are a moron."
"They are mine," Yennefer whispered. An uneasy silence fell upon them and did not want to drift away. Geralt reached for another glass and drained it, just as fast as the first one.
"Yours?" he mumbled, skimming between her face and abdomen.
"I can explain."
"Well," sighed Ciri, snuggling herself to her glass. "Looks like you two have things to discuss. And Geralt, don't do it unless you know how to protect yourself."
"I knew something was off," sighed Geralt sadly. They were back in their bedroom. Yennefer explained every detail from the last few weeks while he listened, not interrupting her monologue even once. The look on his face did not allow any insight into anything going on in his head in that moment. She was afraid to read him.
"It should be fine," she said, completely casually, between sips of herbal tea. "I made an arrangement with the druids. The surgery will be in two weeks time. I'm leaving for Skellige right after Yule."
"I'll go with you," he stated.
The Sorceress pursed her lips and placed the cup back on its saucer. "I'm not sure whether this is a good idea. I'm not even sure they would let you in. They pull everything out through-"
"I assumed that much," he replied and leant back on his armchair, rubbing his eyes gently with the palms of his hands. "You're in pain and because of my sex they won't even let me anywhere near you. Just perfect. Is there anything you'd like to talk about? I won't judge. Don't even need to comment. Maybe that would help to sort it out?"
"Well, there is one thing," she started. The Witcher's head came back to its previous position. A pair of cat-like eyes fixed on hers, questioningly. "I was recommended to drink black tea to stop it from growing. Nenneke suggested I should not. She also wants me to wait another month. She thinks it may be… If there's really anything inside-"
"You can harm the potential baby," Geralt finished for her. "Does she have any reasons to think you're pregnant?"
"Some. One can never be sure. If we could only somehow see what's inside."
"Then wait or ask Triss for help. The entire Kovir is talking about their new technology." Geralt released a long and sad sigh. "You want me to speak to Eskel, right?" he asked, completely unpuzzled.
"If you don't mind."
It felt good, utterly and bloody good, thought Triss with a note of weird satisfaction. With the day officially gone, Triss and Eskel had returned to their bedroom. After their first sessions of love making as the two engaged people which whereas brief was also perhaps not the last on that night, the Sorceress and the Witcher had moved to the bathtub and hadn't left it for good half an hour already.
"It looks like something a physician should see," said the Witcher unexpectedly, biting gently her toes supported on the wooden walls right next to his head. "Your feet are just as wrinkled as those funny dogs we've seen in Zerrikania."
"Good you remember them," said the Sorceress and splashed some water in his direction. Eskel's teeth disappeared, replaced by his skilful fingers. "You promised we would take in one."
The Witcher left her right leg alone and moved to massaging the other.
"Think you got me wrong," he explained, paying extra attention to corn she had gained after the ice skating the day before. "Said I'd rather die than have one those eyesores in my house. Hairless cats, dogs with the tongues allowing to lick their balls with no need of even tilting the head - these people are sick."
"Point taken. I'm not getting a pet for Yule," the Sorceress interrupted him and splashed again. "First compromise from my side."
"Well, if we're discussing it already-"
"You did not," she chuckled. Eskel's mouth began another attack on her, this time expanding the affected territory to most of her ankle and shin.
"He's ten weeks old, ginger and waits for you in Lan Exeter. Oh course, nothing will replace old Butterscotch and his amazing antics, like puking into my slippers or chewing on my new set of gloves, but I think this kitten stands out in his own way."
"Wow."
"Yes, wow," repeated the Witcher after her. "Wasn't sure if you would accept me but I thought you would not reject a cat. You won't, will you?"
"No," she replied, placing her foot gently to his chest, her toes trying to grab the modest hair he had there. "And I won't reject you. Never. What I did earlier wasn't about you. It was about me, about what I was afraid of."
Eskel glanced at her as if not understanding. The Sorceress rearranged her position a little.
"See Eskel," she continued. "I've tried many times and it never worked out. Not with Geralt, not with anyone. I was always quite unlucky in this regard. Believe me, you don't know with how many men I was before you. How many of them broke my heart, flouted me and humiliated. I just stopped believing I'm the lucky type."
"What if I was lucky?" he said and got himself back to his feet. He left the bathtub and reached for one of his endless bags, retrieving from it a tiny book.
"Triss, promise me you won't get mad," he asked, giving it to her. "Page eighteen."
The Enchantress did as she was told. Inside the book, between browned pages sat a dried coronet of daisies. She knew that coronet.
"Is this the one-"
"The one you made when you were here for the first time many years ago?"
"How?"
"Took it from your room after you had left. Placed in a book, then another. It was stolen once along with my other belongings. Sort of the only thing that made me follow the thief. He didn't get much from me that day. The thing with me is… What were the chances you'd even look at me in the first place? How unlikely it was we would ever get here, to this very moment. I can tell you- they were none, but we're here and I'm very happy." He paused and chuckled. "You must think I'm pathetic now. Probably, shouldn't have said you all these."
The Sorceress leant in and pressed her lips to his. "No," she whispered, getting as close to him as the bathtub allowed her to. "I think you should have told me long ago."
The sound of knocking interrupted them. Eskel came back to his senses first, the Sorceress not long after.
"Stay here," he mumbled then, leaving a chaste kiss to her forehead.
She purred in disapprobation but wasn't willing to move in the slightest. She sank deeper into the sheets, willing to forget completely about the chill outside it. And she was close to achieving it if not Eskel's prolonged absence and the weirdly familiar voice coming from the other section of the room.
She got up and reached for her nightgown.
"Hi," she offered, joining the Witcher and Geralt. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No," replied the white-haired Witcher. "Well, sort of. I need your help with something."
"This single date looks very lonely," mumbled Geralt, taking a look at one of endless forms the Sorceress got from Triss to fill in.
The room they were in was rather big, contained a row of white benches, matching nicely the blue and mint walls. There was a collection of books and hand-written posters and brochures. A child-friendly corner with wooden toys in many shapes from casual triangles and cubes, to fruits and cooking utensils. A set of violets in dark blue pots at the windowsill. Unsurprisingly however, Yennefer's description of their love life was what drew most of the Witcher attention.
"They need it to assess how far along I can be," she replied, not letting herself be too distracted. "I'm quite grateful that with Vengerberg, the wedding and your contracts we didn't have much room for that lately. At least dating isn't that hard. Besides, I'm pretty sure Triss knows what you're capable of. There's no need to prove her anything."
"Will you ever stop being angry?"
"I'm not angry," she muttered, starting the last of sheets. "Don't have anything to do, read the posters."
"Took a look at the ectopic pregnancy one. How people can even think about having children after reading it?"
"Don't know," she sighed and wrote down her real age right next to four group the form suggested. "Never had such problem."
Geralt cleared his throat, took the piece of paper from her hands and placed it along with the others. "After this is over," he said slowly and looking her deeply in the eyes, "we will get a proper holiday. And then, just few months away from now, we will use Nenneke's offer. By the end of next year you'll be a mum. Understood?"
"No," she snapped in reply and came back to her previous task.
"Why not?"
"Because it's a stupid idea." She said it as it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You may not like it. After today I'm pretty sure you don't, but Ciri will start a family soon. We'll be in laws and grandparents and I want to be prepared. This is the only thing that matters to me now. That said, I did and will always feel bad about my inability, but I do have a child already and I want to give that child everything she deserves. Do you want another one?"
Geralt delayed his reply. "I want you to be happy," he said after a while, with no confidence whatsoever.
"I am happy. You and Ciri make me want to pull my hair out more often than not but I love you. You make me happy."
He squeezed her hand gently. The door to the examination room opened.
"You're ready?" Triss asked, with her back pressed to them and a box of weird-looking utensils in her hands.
Yennefer and Geralt rose to their feet.
"Yes, let's be done with it," mumbled the Sorceress, trying to convince herself to be brave.
"You're quite big so we should get a nice pictures," commented Triss, measuring different spots at Yennefer's abdomen and writing down the numbers in the notepad she brought with her.
"Big?" Yennefer chuckled, looking at her curves which looked even worse than usual from the current perspective. "I look like a whale. Odds of being short. Nenneke said I look like a model woman with a child. Geralt was simply staring. Right, darling?"
Geralt grunted under his breath, his head constantly turned towards the window and the darkness outside made him resemble a guilty dog. His poor eye contact only strengthened the impression.
"He's out of his comfort zone," observed the Sorceress, petting his arm gently. "You can wait outside if you want to."
"Eskel was the same," Triss giggled and reached for a box of something that resembled tiny mirrors. She glued them to Yennefer's skin in the locations she had measured not long earlier. "He was afraid to even pass the building. Now he's almost a part of the furniture. You've seen the waiting room? It's all his work." She stopped for a moment, both the talking and decorating Yennefer. "I think we're ready. The machine uses crystals and is pretty much a modified megascope. It is though designed to give two dimensional image, for obvious reasons. It won't hurt. Promise."
Triss went silent again, preoccupied with setting the machine into motion. She's still not over her perfectionism, Yennefer chuckled to herself, some things just weren't to change.
And then when the first image emerged on the big mirror, only inches away from her face, she stopped thinking, captivated by something that looked a lot like spine. And a ribcage. Not long after, the greyish mess formed also a tiny head and something in the shape of neck.
The auburn-haired Sorceress took off one of the mirrors and the picture changed but wasn't less interesting than before. The thing was now brutally turned towards them and with great effort tried to cover the strange-looking face with its hands.
"Someone's not in mood for guests tonight," she heard Geralt try to communicate with her telepathically, his hand closed around hers.
"I don't see anything suspicious," Triss snapped not long after. "The sacs and placenta look normal. No signs of cysts or haemorrhage. It's just vascularised as it should be at this stage. Left ovary looks good. Right is completely atrophied. The fetus itself is the right size for…" she looked at the form. "Fifteen weeks and one day. Wish more people were so accurate."
"Is it fine?" Geralt asked, visibly more relaxed than before. Yennefer, usually the tougher of the two, that evening wasn't ready for asking questions.
"It is. Happy little acrobat like all at this stage. I would like to keep an eye on them though. For now an appointment every week, then we can think about something less restrictive. It's a viable pregnancy. Any idea how it could happen? Also I must ask, but do you want me to take a look at internal organs?"
"That would be very appreciated," said the Witcher and glanced at Yennefer, smirking. She still remained quiet.
"That's the head as you could figure out already. See this line across the skull? It's the outline of the brain. It looks good to me," explained Triss, tapping her finger in the mirror. The fetus on the screen seemed to somehow perceive her motions and stretched its tiny limbs only to come back to the previous position shortly after.
The Enchantress pulled away another mirror, changing the view again. This time the tiny creature presented itself from the side, its tiny face still protected from the tiresome intruders. The episode of silence started again.
"Kidneys look good, no signs of fluid retention. Legs and arms are the right length. Abdomen looks perfectly normal too. We're looking for white dots. They suggest problems. Heart-"
She stopped at the heart.
"Heart is a little bit asymmetric," the Witcher finished for her. "My knowledge is limited but I think there should be four holes. Two bigger for ventricles and two smaller for- Three are smaller. One of the ventricles is a bit too small."
Triss moved closer to the screen. She did not reply but Yennefer knew the answer.
"It's not a problem, right?" Geralt broke the uneasy silence. "Even if they're uneven? You're both sorceresses. How hard can it be to recreate a missing part of heart?"
"It's not hard," the dark-haired Sorceress said, fixing her eyes with anger on Triss's motionless posture. "It's impossible. Magicians can repair organs but can't create them de novo."
"We can be mistaken," Triss mumbled, switching the angle again. From all four, that one was least interesting. "It's barely fifteen weeks anything can happen."
"How many similar scans you see every week, Triss?" she replied, fidgeting a little. "It's different from them. We both know it's not more than an artifact."
"What's the prognosis then?" asked Geralt, visibly less enthusiastic than just moments earlier. "Do you know any other kids with this condition?"
Triss hesitated way too long for Yennefer's liking. "We had one girl few months ago. She died after two days. Tissaia described more in The Poisoned Source. Congenital heart defects used to be very common among babies born within the mage society, third only to microcephaly and renal agenesis. They tried treatment with prostaglandin but it wasn't very effective."
"So it's fatal," the Witcher more observed than asked.
"Of course it's fatal, Geralt. Half of the heart is missing. How is it supposed to work in your opinion?"
Geralt did not explain.
"The baby's heart is very tiny. It's easy to make a mistake," Triss continued, completely ignorant to Yennefer's reasoning. The image in the mirror changed again. "You won't deliver until late May. It still has plenty of time to growth. Besides, you should not let go. Not now when we know it's possible in the first place. You can always-"
"Get pregnant again?" Yennefer chuckled, deep down she was close to crying. "Because now for a change we should try how it feels to have a child with no kidneys or with an omphalocele? Both seemed to be a good part of Tissaia's rationale behind compulsory sterilization."
Triss did not reply. The creature they were about to lose finally exposed its face to them, yawning and smiling at them, perhaps totally unaware of the fate hanging above it,hanging above them. Yennefer looked away.
"This pregnancy is a fact and we can't change it," she started as composed as she could be. "It's sad and tragic, and it's inevitable. We'll have this baby and will lose it. It will hurt but we won't yield because it's not our fault. Because we're victims here, just as much as this baby is. Trying again however, knowing what can happen, what we would be gambling with… I finally see why we shouldn't have children."
Her portal pierced the room from the side of the bathroom. It wasn't anything Triss had planned, but as soon as she had landed, she knew it the right decision. The room sunk in the dark ever so gently. The moonlight sneaking through the opened window shutters had the colour of honey, backlighted the sea of thick, juicy snowflakes pouring from the sky like from a pierced pillow.
The Sorceress closed the shutters and left the bathroom, heading slowly to the other part of the room. She was expecting Eskel to sleep soundly but the Witcher had outsmarted her. A pair of cat eyes similar to nancre in their texture was set on her and followed her every movement, likely for quite some time.
"Did I wake you up?" she asked but never lived to hear his reply. All she managed to do was to close the distance between them and let herself melt in Eskel's embrace.
"Are you hungry?" Yennefer heard Geralt mumble as he swaddled her up on their bed with countless blankets. The Sorceress followed his movements with patience, the perfect bed-fireplace-table triangle he kept tracing across the room with a admirable obsticancy. She did not say a word. "Maybe you want something to drink? Apple juice? A book to read?"
"I don't want anything," she replied at last but Geralt clearly wasn't listening. Before long a tray with a mug of apple juice and some brioches from the dinner was laying next to her on the bed. Geralt who was the only thing she wished to have close, however, was still out of reach and now started a hundredth circle.
"Could you please stop?" she hissed unable take it any longer.
Her words had not gone unnoticed and Geralt joined her on the mattress not long after.
"Sorry," he admitted, now for a change doggedly rubbing his hands together. Yennefer realised that whatever was going on with him was not to go away anytime soon.
"I think we should talk about what's going to happen," she started sternly.
Geralt nodded but against her hopes did not say anything.
"We have to decide when to put an end to all this. What to do. Whether we're ready to wait till May. I don't think it's wise. I don't feel I would be able to... I dread to think how bad it would feel to feel them move inside me, to hold them in my arms knowing what will happen next."
The thought alone made Yennefer's stomach do funny things. Lactation that would follow the delivery was what she was thinking off mostly. How was she supposed to be alright if her own body would need to go through the mourning process as well? Giving birth now could spare her that.
She recalled also a case she had assisted in many years ago. What looked like a casual miscarriage turned out to be something way dimmer that day. The baby was born alive and couldn't die for another two hours. Could not was the right term. The boy fought for his every breath. But that baby was due in just two months, their had much more and they were ill.
"To be frank, I would survive each just to know the baby would suffer less, but which one is less painful? Which one would be less humiliating for them?"
And she was angry on Geralt for not arguing with her, for not coming up with a clever idea to contradict her, to show off his immense witcher optimism. She was angry he didn't offer hope she had so much desired. He was calm. Hopelessly calm.
"Geralt?"
"Hmm?"
She untangled herself from the snares of blankets and grovled to him. Geralt did not protest much when she crawled onto his lap, pinning him down and digging her boney knees into everything on her way, her lips pressed to his hair and forehead did not stop leaving kisses.
Slowly, Geralt's hands started to seek physical contact as well, coiled around her frame ever so gently, bent her, until he finally nestled himself against her.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he mumbled, snuggling his cheek to her midsection.
"It wasn't," Yennefer echoed some time later.