Wedding No. 1 – September 1286 (1/2)
Geralt leaned against the lone, old oak tree, his gaze wandering over the landscape and, as always, lingering for a moment on his beloved Corvo Bianco. The day's heat was still intense, the shade beneath the tree did little to shield him from it as he tried to focus on his book, A century of Wine – Tasteful Lessons by Albert Schwartz. He considered dipping his feet into the small river that ran next to him, sparkling in the sun, the enticing gurgling sound of the cold mountain water calling to him. He wondered if Kit would be up for a swim once she was done for the day working on her wedding dress. Maybe he should just pry her away from it, he thought. Then again, maybe no prying was necessary – the poor woman had been stressed and overworked for weeks now. Next to her work for the Duchess and whatever she did for herself, she had taken up orders from women all over the country. Her little side business, as she called it. It had started out a few years ago with an occasional order every few months but Anna Henrietta was doing a terrific job of modeling her works and as the laws of fashion would have it, women wanted whatever her grace wore, that much Geralt had learned. And thus, the small side business had steadily grown. He had a vague inkling that there was some sort of breaking point to be reached soon but he was unsure of what that meant.
Just two more weeks and he would be calling that tired ball of stress his wife.
He felt the stupid grin spread on his face and tried his best to suppress it but there was no helping it. He was not sure if it was his happiness that made him smile or the absurdity of the situation – a witcher wedding was unheard of.
Geralt closed his eyes as a rare, soft breeze caressed his heated skin.
Suddenly something changed. He felt it, some invisible force cutting the air, making the hairs on his arms stand it its wake, long before he heard the cracking sound, before even his medallion reacted. He got up, the book carelessly discarded on the ground, as he meticulously inspected his surroundings, trying to locate the source of the disturbance.
Could it be, he wondered? After all this time, finally?
"Geralt!" she called his name. "Geralt, where are you?" Her voice echoed from somewhere on the property.
There was no mistaking it.
"Ciri? Ciri, up here, at the tree!"
And then he finally saw her, emerging from behind a building, running towards him. For a moment he was sure she must be an illusion. After all this time, all these years, he could hardly believe his little girl had found her way back to him.
The force with which she ran into his arms nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Ciri," he mumbled, holding her tightly. Relief washed over him. For such a long time he had worried about her – not a word from her in years, all of his letters unanswered. Until that very moment he had been unaware of just how much he had been worrying and only realized it now as he felt a heavy burden being lifted from his chest.
"I'm so sorry Geralt, I had no idea…"
A few months earlier, as Geralt and Kit had mulled over their guest list, Kit had looked at him and asked: "Don't you think we should send her an invitation anyway?"
Geralt had shaken his head. "What's the point? She hasn't answered my letters in years, probably hasn't gotten a single one since Emhyr would like her to forget that I exist. Not even sure she is in our world to begin with."
Kit, unable to console him, had hugged him from behind, her slender arms squishing that hard body of his with an unexpected force, providing him with what comfort she could.
Only a few days ago, when she had been in the midst of writing another letter to Regis, did she suddenly say: "What if we asked Regis to deliver the invitation to her personally? He's in Nilfgaard and maybe she is too."
Geralt had not gotten his hopes up, just shrugged and enclosed a quickly composed letter to Ciri with Kit's letter, asking Regis to deliver this most important piece of mail, turn into fog, fly right through her bedroom window or do whatever else it might take.
Now that Ciri was standing before him he wondered why it had not occurred to him much sooner to ask his nocturnal, airborne friend for help.
Geralt hugged her tightly, afraid she might just disappear again if he let go of her.
She had to make an actual effort to free herself and look up to him.
"I'm sorry, so sorry! I had no idea - all your letters… I didn't… I… I... And I was so caught up in trying to learn… I spent so much time in other worlds trying to learn things that would help me, show me how to rule, how to advance society, to make life better for all…," she hastily sputtered.
Geralt felt pride welling up in his chest. After all, Nilfgaard and Emhyr in particular had not managed to spoil the bright and kind girl he had helped raise.
"It's alright. You're here now. Are you well?" He held her by her upper arms and examined her from top to bottom as if to check for missing pieces.
Ciri nodded, her intensely green eyes brimming with tears.
"What about you? You look good. Still in one piece," she joked weakly, apparently following the same line of thought as Geralt. Like father, like daughter, he mused and could not help but smile.
"Never been better."
"While I would have never forgiven myself for missing your wedding, I'd still like to know how you smuggled that letter past my watchdogs. I swear, it was dropped on me in the middle of the night and I was ready to decapitate whoever broke into my room."
Geralt chuckled and explained the intricacies of bat mail to her.
Ciri laughed. "I promise you, when I get back I will make sure that every letter you write from now on will reach me. Again, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had written to me. I always meant to but…" She sighed. "The more I think about it, the sillier any excuse I thought I had sounds." For a moment it appeared as if she was going to add something else but then she bit her lip.
"Glad you're here. It wouldn't be the same without you. Can you stay until…" he began, still smiling, not caring about anything else.
She nodded eagerly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. For the next few weeks, I'm all yours. Once I read your letter, I took the time to get into an argument with father, with Emhyr I mean. After that he didn't dare to stop me or send anyone after me."
There was his defiant girl again - even if she had long stopped being a girl. She looked just like he remembered her. Only the slightly sharpened features of her face gave away the fact that any time had passed at all. Other than that, she still seemed to be the hotheaded, ashen-haired whirlwind she always used to be. It was at most her clothing that hinted at the changes she had gone through. Just from the looks of it Geralt could tell that the leather of her pants and boots was soft – and expensive. Even her shirt, though not obvious on first glance, was covered in the sort of miniscule embroidery that screamed luxurious as did the stitching on the seams – something he had learned from Kit.
"It's good to have you back. What have you been up to all this time? And where?" Gerald wondered, still not quite able to trust his eyes. But it had been so palpable; the energy rush that was set free whenever she created a portal for herself was unmistakable.
He sat back down under the tree, beckoning her to do the same.
She plopped down on the grass.
"Everywhere, I've been everywhere! At least that's what it feels like." Ciri sighed as she leaned against the rough bark. "When they started teaching me, when my… my father showed me what it takes to rule… I was certain I couldn't do it. Not like him." She turned her head to Geralt who watched her carefully for any sign that his little girl was gone, that a stranger, the empress, had taken over her body and suffocated everything he held so dear. But to his great relief the familiar green eyes had not lost their shine and warmth.
Regardless, something about her was different but he could not quite place it.
"Sounds like a good approach to things." Geralt tried to sound jovially but he was not entirely convinced that he had managed to. He disliked Emhyr but he did not want to show too much of it as he was Ciri's only living parent and he could accept that, despite their complicated past, he meant something to her. After all, the emperor had shown some humanity back then.
Ciri smiled and shook her head. She knows me too well, Geralt thought.
"I traveled to different worlds, different time periods, to see if there was one that had a better way of doing things. Ruling countries, I mean."
"Were you successful?" Naturally, Geralt knew a thing or two of how that could look like, courtesy of Kit. How most governments in her world worked and why they would not work in this day and age. Maybe, he thought, the two of them could exchange ideas.
Ciri groaned. "It's frustrating. It's not like I can go to a place and then just read up on how everything works. If I learned one thing it's that you have to actually understand the entire society before you can come even close to making an assessment on their rulers." She became quiet. "I think I've wasted a lot of time." Suddenly, she sounded like the frustrated young woman again she had been back in the day when the Wild Hunt was after her. She was older now, in her mid-30s, looked older – but Geralt was relieved yet again to receive more and more confirmation that at her core she had remained unchanged.
"I don't think you wasted your time." Geralt believed what he said. "You always achieved what you set out to do. You saved the world, how hard can it be to rule a measly empire?" His voice was so extraordinarily blasé that it made Ciri laugh.
"Oh Geralt, I should have visited you much earlier." She smiled apologizingly.
Suddenly he noticed the slight slump in her shoulders, the exhaustion in her eyes. For the briefest moment a wave of sadness seemed to wash over him – Ciri's sadness. That is what was different about her, he realized suddenly.
"You're here now, that's what counts," he tried to cheer her up, placing one hand on her shoulder, shaking it lightly.
"Where is Yennefer by the way? So close to the wedding, I thought she'd be fussing over you all day…"
"Yennefer?" For a moment Geralt froze.
"Your soon to be wife? Have you resorted to pet names that made you forget her real name? It doesn't sound like something she'd let happen. But then again, I never thought the two of you would actually get married. When you ended it the last time, I really believed it was for good and whenever I met her she would never talk about you. Anyway, I know it's stupid, but I was devastated when I heard. The two of you were like parents to me. The thought of you guys together again just makes me so happy. And believe me, I really need this right now."
Geralt cursed silently. He had told her about Kit in his letters – letters that she had never received. He tried to remember. Was it possible he had not even mentioned Kit's name in that final one? Probably, he thought, it had been written in haste. To him it was obvious that there was only one woman he was going to marry and that was not the sorceress that was so dear to his child surprise.
"Ciri," he started, his heart heavy as he watched the smile disappear from her face. "It's not Yennefer."
"What do you mean?" She frowned.
"It's not her I'll marry. Haven't heard from her in years." He ran a hand over his face, chiding himself for his negligence.
"It's not Triss, is it?"
Geralt shook his head.
"You've never met her. Told you about her – in all those letters." He felt terrible for having to crush Ciri's expectations but he continued anyway, to get over this unfortunate situation as soon as possible. "Her name is Kit. Been looking forward all this time to introducing the two of you."
"Oh," was all Ciri said as she lowered her gaze. More than ever, she reminded him of the child he had once brought to Kaer Morhen. He felt awful for getting her hopes up but was at the same time surprised about her confession. After she had left him for Emhyr, he had been convinced that his role as a father figure had ended. It had pained him even though he understood her reasoning and later learned to be proud of her and what she was trying to achieve.
"And she know about me?" Ciri wondered.
Geralt nodded.
"It was her idea to have Regis deliver the letter."
"Is that so?" Ciri asked without much enthusiasm.
"She's been wanting to meet you for a long time," Geralt tried even though he quickly came to comprehend that there was nothing he could do to fix the damage that this little mishap had brought about. He was entirely caught off guard by her reaction, never expecting a woman old enough to have children of her own to pine after a family that was never meant to be. But it was so easy to see the little girl from back then, her hurt, her need for comfort. In a way, he suddenly realized, she and Kit were not so different.
Geralt had heard the soft steps on the grass long before Barnabas-Basil had even gotten close.
"Master Geralt, I am supposed to let you know that lunch is ready," the majordomo declared in that dignified voice that was so inherent to him. Geralt nodded at him to signal that he had heard.
"Hello BB, it's good to see you," Ciri said, a forced smile on her face.
"Your Excellency." He bowed but smiled.
"Stop it. You know I don't want to be addressed like that when I'm here."
"Of course." He gave her one last smile, as he always did whenever she visited and they went through the same spiel. "Will you honor us with your presence for a while?"
"Yes, a little while, BB," she confirmed.
"Very well." The majordomo smiled and then promptly turned around and left.
"Come on, let's eat something and then find you a place to sleep," Geralt suggested as he got up and offered his hand for Ciri to take.
"What do you mean find a place to sleep? Is the guestroom already taken? Who else is here already? I thought I was early." Hesitantly she reached for his hand.
Geralt shook his head. "It's not a guestroom anymore. Kit needed it for work, so…"
"I see," Ciri said with an uncharacteristic sharpness in her voice.
He did not know what to say nor what had caused the change in her mood, so he remained silent.
As they entered the main building of Corvo Bianco, a familiar smell wafted through the air. It was clearly Kit's cooking. She had probably gotten tired of working on the dress, he thought. No prying away was needed then.
"Just a moment," Kit called from the kitchen. She came backwards through the door, carrying a big wooden tray of pizza. Her face was flushed from the heat as she balanced the food.
"Oh," she said when she finally turned around and noticed Ciri. "Oh!" It suddenly seemed to dawn on her who their guest was. Kit set the tray down on the dining table, smiling at Ciri.
"Kit this is…"
"Ciri!" she interrupted Geralt. "Regis must have been successful. That's wonderful!"
Geralt could not help but smile at Kit's excitement.
"It's so nice to finally me-" Kit started but Ciri cut her off.
"This is pizza," she realized. Then she looked at Kit. "This is pizza."
"I… know?" Kit looked startled, obviously not sure what to do. Searching for help, she looked at Geralt who could only shrug.
"How do you know what pizza is?" Ciri inquired, brows narrowed as she examined Kit.
"It's a common staple where I'm from. Is this a problem? So far nobody here has had an issue with lactose or gluten." Suddenly Kit shook her head. "No, wait. How do you know what pizza is?"
"She's from another world," Ciri stated, looking at Geralt, who only nodded.
"And you must have been to at least one world where people eat pizza," Kit guessed.
"Geralt, did you know that?" Ciri asked, voice tense, ignoring Kit.
"Of course. Found her right after she got here."
Ciri lowered her gaze, focused it on the food. Only Geralt noticed the way her lower lip trembled. Without a word she turned around and left.
For a moment, Geralt was stunned.
"What's going on?" Kit wondered, brows knitted in confusion.
"I… Not sure. Think she's mad. But I don't know why."
"Maybe you should go after her."
Kit proceeded to cut two slices of pizza and put them on a plate.
"Here, take it, go after her. The magic of carbs makes it harder to stay angry."
He nodded thankfully, took the plate and left.
He felt a little silly, standing there with a hot plate of pizza in his hand, as he listened for her. Once he had picked up the sound of her boots he quickly went after her – past the garden, past the olive trees, until he found her, hidden behind a shed. She had buried her face in between her knees – something that Geralt had not seen her do since her childhood days.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was welcome at all, before he settled down next to her, put the food aside, and hugged her tightly, pulling her against his chest, cradling her head, fingers running through the ashen hair.
Ciri did not move until he carefully nudged her.
"Talk to me."
The agitated beating of her heart told him that there was something she was about to say, something important.
When she finally spoke he nearly wished she had remained silent.
"Why didn't you do more? Why didn't you do more to reach out to me? I needed you!" She finally looked up to him, the green of her eyes shining even brighter against her red rimmed eyes. "I needed you! You are my destiny, you are supposed to be there for me. Why were you not?" As sobs shook her body, she was forced to pause before she continued: "How could you just replace me?"
Replace her? Who had he replaced her with? And why didn't you try to reach out to me, he wondered, feeling the words on the tip of his tongue but swallowing them. Was she right? Should he have done more? He felt anger rise – whether he was angry at her for her accusations or at himself for having remained too passive, he was not sure.
Just like the hurtful words, he tried to swallow that anger too.
Ever since she had left for Nilfgaard, Ciri had come and visited him in Toussaint once or twice a year, the last time shortly before Kit had come into his life. And now he wondered if he had been too preoccupied with her, had given her so much attention that he had forgotten about his child surprise, the child he had bound to him, that he had chosen in his foolish arrogance. He had been writing to Ciri, hoping, even though it was unreasonable, that his letters would reach her. Going to Nilfgaard had not been an option. Emhyr had made it very clear that Geralt was not welcome. But did that really matter? He had never even tried.
When Ciri had not shown for over a year, he had started to make up excuses: She had more important things to do. She was in another world. She did not need him anymore. Letting her do what she thought necessary had turned out to be the right decision once, so surely it would be the right thing to do again.
And he had remained inactive because he had convinced himself that it was the right thing to do. Let her grow without holding her hand or, worse, holding her back with his old ways. Show her that he trusted her, that he thought her competent enough to live without him.
He had had the best intentions. Or had he maybe been distracted and had chosen the easy way? Enjoying the bliss of his new live, of new love. Had it blinded him towards what was important? After all, she was his child of destiny and even as an adult she would remain so.
"Why didn't you reach out to me?" he asked, quietly, softly, making sure not even a hint of an accusation was to be found in his voice.
Her lips started shaking.
"Should I have? It seems you replaced me just fine."
And then he understood.
"You think I tried to replace you with Kit?" The idea seemed so ludicrous, he could hardly believe that he had to ask at all.
Ciri stared at the ground in front of her.
"Seems like people who can travel between the worlds are a dime a dozen now. So much for being special," was all she said. There was a quaver in her voice, a tinge of bitterness surrounding it.
"She can't travel. She was left here. I tried to contact you, hoping you could help me find a way to send her back home," he tried to explain, still unsure what made Ciri react so harshly.
"If she cannot travel between the worlds, how did she end up here?"
Geralt sighed. "Higher forces took her from her world and brought her here, she had no choice in this matter. They arranged for me to find her because that was her best chance at finding happiness in this new world."
Ciri snorted. "Sounds like destiny all over again."
"Ciri…" He nudged her. "Ciri, please look at me."
At his pleading voice, she slowly looked up to him.
"You are my destiny. You and only you. Kit is something else entirely."
"How comes you never came to seek my help? If you are marrying her you must love her. Don't you love her enough to risk pissing off Emhyr in order to ask for my help?"
"When I tried to contact you, we didn't yet know why things had happened the way they did. And then we fell in love and I could have never let her go. And, more importantly, she didn't want to leave anymore. When we finally learned how she came into this world we also learned that there was no way back for her. There is nothing you could have done to help her. All that was left to do was to wait for you so I could introduce you." Now it was Geralt who averted his gaze. "Didn't think much of you not showing up for a while. Thought you were out there having adventures, living free like you should. Thought you had maybe forgotten about me and I didn't want to hold you back." He looked at her. "I'm sorry. Should have done more."
The quiet that spread between them began to feel like an impenetrable wall. It drowned out the sound of chirping birds, buzzing bees and screeching cicadas. It ate up everything.
Until Ciri spoke.
"Are you happy?" she asked.
"I'd be happier if I knew things between us were not ruined."
"I'm sorry," she said meekly all of a sudden. "I think realizing how much your life has changed whereas I've made no progress whatsoever made me panic. I really thought I could do it. Change the world for the better from a place of power." Tears started to spill down her cheeks again. "But I can't. I've wasted years in other worlds, trying to find anything that would help me but… I don't have it in me. I should have stayed with you, travelled the path with you."
"Ciri, don't!" His voice was harsh. "Don't talk like that."
"But it's the truth! I have nothing to show for. I don't want to send people to war. I don't want to speak death sentences! I may be the empress but they are talking behind my back. I was hoping I could come up with something, to impress them, to create progress. But I failed. I travelled through all these worlds, never fully understanding what I got myself into. I have no knowledge to show for and, even worse, I have no idea what has happened here in the meantime. And then… Then you show me that life has gone on for everybody but me."
Geralt chuckled.
"You think this is funny?" Ciri moved away from him.
"In a way, yes. When you chose to go to Nilfgaard, I was afraid they'd change you. But you're still the impatient, easily frustrated Ciri I know and love. Last time I saw you this riled up, I think Avallac'h tried to teach you." He paused and took on a more somber expression. "I'm glad you haven't changed."
Ciri's gaze softened.
"I remember. We had a snowball fight back then. But… there is no snow here."
"No… But pizza." He handed her the plate. She hesitantly grabbed a piece and started gnawing on it.
"Don't judge yourself so harshly. You've always done that. You've had to fend for yourself ever since you were a child. You have a unique perspective on this world – and others. I'm sure nothing you have done was in vain and everything will come together at the end."
"I wish I had your trust."
"Still remember hearing news of you negotiating potential wars away. Sending missions to help out in other places where war has left people devasted and unable to live. Don't act like you haven't achieved anything. You've barely begun."
As Ciri looked at him he noticed that she had lightened up – even if it was ever so slightly.
"This can never happen again. I can never again be so far from you that I don't even know who you're getting married to," she whispered.
Geralt put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"I miss the old times. Fighting alongside you seems so easy in comparison," she continued.
It was night by the time they went back. Geralt led Ciri to the nicest of their newly renovated guest houses for her to stay in as long as she wished.
When he returned, he found Kit in the stables, brushing Nugget's fur that shone like silver in the moonlight.
He hugged her from behind as she brushed along the horse's neck.
"And?" she wondered. "It's not my pizza that offended her, is it?"
Geralt hummed.
"She's… overwhelmed I'd say. There was a misunderstanding, disappointment and then some more misunderstandings."
"Anything I can do?"
Geralt shook his head which she could not see but he made sure she could feel the movements as his lips and beard grazed the skin in her neck.
"When she saw the pizza, she figured out that you were from another world. She thought I was trying to replace her – as if people who can travel through time and space just grow on trees now."
"Huh," Kit paused. "It is an odd coincidence, isn't it?"
"Very odd." The more he thought about it, the more parallels he was able to draw between the two women. Both had special abilities but neither knew how to properly control them. Kit's healing had become much more efficient – when it came to others. Her own injuries sometimes seemed beyond her control and would only disappear while she slept or was distracted. Ciri, on the other hand, might have been able to go anywhere – but she was far from able to control where and when she got somewhere and also when to reappear. Both women were impatient and hotheaded at times – albeit for different reasons. And both of them craved being part of a family and tried to make one for themselves as they had lost their old ones.
In theory, he thought, they should get along great.
"Is everything alright now?"
He shrugged. "It will be. Should have tried harder to contact her. I'll have to make up for that somehow."
Kit put the brush aside and turned around in his arms so she could face him.
"From what you've told me, she's a very special person. Who knows what's right and what not? Being in such a unique position must be difficult."
Geralt had closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into her hair. He loved her so very much for her understanding ways, for how she simply accepted the weirder aspects of his life and tried to be supportive however she could.
"What do you think – how many worlds out there have pizza?"
Kit stayed silent for a moment. "You think she visited my world?"
"Could be, don't you think?"
"I guess. Maybe, if she's willing to talk to me, we could figure it out." She hesitated. "She doesn't hate me, does she?"
"Don't worry," Geralt started but was promptly interrupted.
"How can I not?"
When Geralt woke up he could already hear Ciri at the breakfast table. He looked at Kit who was not yet awake and decided to let her sleep. With the stress of the past few weeks, she was owed the rest. The night before, when they had finally gone to bed, she had turned into some small-eyed creature that carried itself with the panache of a drowner – which was a level of tiredness he was not used from her.
He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades and got up to quietly dress himself.
"Mornin' Geralt," Ciri greeted him, her mouth stuffed.
Geralt grinned.
"Whaff?" Ciri asked.
"Have you left all your table manners in Nilfgaard?"
"I can't help it," she said after she had swallowed. "Marlene's fresh bread is just the best. I missed that!"
"Don't tell me you are not served the finest food around."
She shrugged. "I am. But this is special, it tastes like freedom."
The words, however carelessly spoken, pained Geralt. He had come to think of Ciri taking on her birthright as a mere nuisance that was in the way of fun. But he had to admit to himself that maybe he had not taken it as seriously as he should have. Her sacrifice, he thought. While she had been raised a princess, at heart she had never been one. She had been playing with the boys, she had refused to dance when told do to so, she had been trying to run away even.
Should he have fought her decision to go away? Did he, after all, know better than her?
He watched her, contemplating, as she continued eating like she had not just admitted something truly awful to him.
"Good morning," Kit said as she appeared at the table a while later, yawning, before she put an arm around Geralt's neck and kissed him quickly on the side of his head. "This looks delicious." She smiled. Ciri returned her smile.
"I just told Geralt that I missed Marlene's bread so very much," she said.
For a fraction of a second Geralt could see the surprise in Kit's face but she caught herself quickly.
"It's fantastic, isn't it? I don't think I've eaten better bread in my entire life."
He was grateful that Kit was willing to pretend that yesterday had never happened. She sat down to take some bread and butter.
"I'm so sorry, I forgot! You're an empress. Do I have to bow or something?"
Ciri grinned. "You can if you want to but I won't insist."
"Oh good, because I really don't want to. Too much effort." Kit waived it off with a grin.
"I heard you work for the Duchess. Do you bow to her?"
"I used to. Initially, when she still frightened me a little. But we got over that." Kit shuddered. "I'm sorry if I come across as rude but this is not the way we do things where I come from and that is hard to shake, even after all these years."
Ciri laughed it off.
"It's quite alright. I think I've seen enough of other worlds to understand where you are coming from."
Geralt was glad to see that Ciri made an effort to be friendly with Kit. He could not blame her for not understanding quite how much that woman meant to him but he was determined to make sure each knew how important the other one was.
"Talking about coming from places… How many worlds have you been to that had pizza?" Kit was focused on Ciri so intensely that it made Geralt think that she had only been waiting to lead the conversation into this direction. "I imagine it must be very common? After all it's just bread with sauce and melted cheese…"
"I've seen variations of it. But if you talk about pizza the way you made it just yesterday… twice. It might have been the same world though, just at different times. I'm not sure, time travel can be very confusing."
"Why do you think it was…" Kit was interrupted by the appearance of Barnabas-Basil before she could finish her question.
"Master Geralt, the Madame Dubois is here and wishes to confer with you as soon as you are available."
"Did she name her reason for coming?" Geralt inquired.
"I think we can all guess why. People rarely come over to ask you for your opinion on their cooking," Ciri added.
Geralt grinned, glad to see she had not yet lost her humor. He nodded and beckoned his majordomo to let the woman in.
She was timid as she entered. Geralt had known her as a hard-working woman who had taken it on herself to take over the vineyard her late husband had left her. Unlike other vintners in the area she would more often than not be found between the grapevines, examining them carefully, even joining the harvest once it was due. Her suntanned skin, something nobles tended to avoid, said more about her than she herself liked to divulge to others.
Her shoes, simple but comfortable looking worn-out boots, and apron were covered in a thin layer of dust – the dry earth that swirled up when walking through the fields. She was a hands-on woman and just like Geralt she cared more about the wellbeing of the people she surrounded herself with than what others thought of her. And he respected that.
"Good morning Master Geralt, Lady Kit." She nodded her head towards them and Ciri, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "Please pardon my interruption but I must ask your help urgently. We have started the harvest but there is something in the woods next to our fields and my workers have been hurt. They are too scared to continue their work. I would be immensely thankful if you could make the time to deal with it."
"These damn nekkers again? Wasn't it just last year when I destroyed a nest?"
"Yes, you did. But it appears they are back. Vile creatures with big heads and long limbs. They keep close to the forest for now but I'm afraid they might get cocky and move closer to where we live. It's not just the workers but our children, the cattle and…"
"I'll be with you in an hour. Until then make sure everybody stays away."
"Mind if I join you? For old time's sake?" Ciri asked, a wide smile spreading across her face.
"Does your highness remember how to hold a sword?" Geralt teased her but was pleased to see the honest excitement on her face.
"You grab the pointy end, right?"
The sadness that had weighted her shoulders down seemed to lift a little.
Soon after Geralt had donned some light leather armor and found a suitable sword for Ciri.
"Will you come with us?" he asked Kit.
She shook her head.
"Who'd have ever thought that slaying nekkers could be a team building exercise? Anyway, I think it's better if the two of you get some alone-time. Though I hate to stay away." She pouted, clearly unhappy.
While Kit kept out of danger, she was always fairly close to the fight to heal Geralt should the need arise. Waiting outside a cave, waiting inside a small hut, waiting in the distance – always waiting and observing. "But after all there is two of you and only a measly group of nekkers. If she's anything like you told me, this should be a breeze."
"It would be a breeze even if I did it by myself." He nudged her, smiling.
"I know... I know."
Kit went with him to the stables where Ciri was already waiting.
"Take Nugget so poor Roach won't have to deal with the two of you." Kit readied the horse and patted its neck before she handed Ciri the reins. Ciri nodded thankfully whereas Nugget questioningly stared at the human backweight he was used to and whinnied quietly in confusion. Kit, the human backweight in question, tickled the horse between the nostrils.
"Don't disgrace us, my dear."
Kit then moved to Geralt, cupped his face and kissed him. He put his hands on hers as he rested his forehead against hers.
"Take care, okay?" she whispered.
He nodded.
"Ciri? Please look after him. I need him back in mint condition, all limbs attached and unharmed."
"Is she always so dramatic?" Ciri wondered once they were out of earshot.
"She worries easily." Geralt focused on the road ahead.
"I noticed. Is she really a good fit for you? She seems nice of course but Yennefer would have never…"
"Ciri, don't." The tone of his voice did not allow for any response.
His eyes did not stray from the road. While he understood that Ciri felt left out, which was partially his fault, he would not let anything bad be said about his wife. He had long come to appreciate the way she worried about him – it was just another expression of her love for him, just another sweet gesture.
"Sorry, it's just… odd to see you like this."
Like this, he wondered? Happy? Cared for? While surely Yennefer had worried for him too, she would have never admitted it, always thoughtful of keeping her guard up. He did not like to draw comparisons between the two women but he could not help but prefer the sweetness and worry Kit had for him, the way she reminded him constantly of how important he was to her. After lifetimes of lacking exactly that, it was a welcome change.
Kit decided to take the opportunity, now that the stables were empty, to clean them out.
"You little shit factories," she mumbled to herself as she started to shovel the manure into an empty wheelbarrow.
"Let me do that! I'm sure you've got more important things to do," a farmhand called out to her.
"It's fine, Adrien. I need a bit of a break." She waived him off. "Can you feed the chicken? They look like they're starving."
"What does a starving chicken even look like?" Adrien wondered, as a wide grin stretched over his young, freckled face.
"Like it's not going to taste very well once we try to eat it. Now, off you go!" she shooed him away.
Adrien shrugged and left as Kit continued to shovel.
She was so focused on her work that she did not immediately notice the newly arrived visitor.
"Maid! Hey, maid!" a woman called out.
Kit only realized that the newcomer had been trying to address her, when the blonde woman finally approached her.
"I'm trying to talk to you. Are you deaf?" she asked impatiently, arms crossed in front of her barely covered chest. Just like her, her colorful clothing was screaming for attention.
Kit was surprised to see the woman – and a whole armada of suitcases that seemed to have come with her and out of nowhere.
"Where have you come from all of a sudden?" she wondered, wiping away the sweat on her brow.
"Ellander. Will you please arrange for my luggage to be brought to my room?"
"What room?"
"A room to spend the nights in. Are you simple?"
"The question is not what I am but rather why you are mistaking this place for a guest house." Kit leaned on her shovel and wiped some more sweat from her forehead.
"I am a valued friend of Geralt of Rivia and have come to attend his wedding. Now show me my room." The edge in the woman's tone left no doubt as to her rising impatience.
Kit cocked her head.
"You were not invited. What's your name again?"
"Who are you to dare to speak to me like this? You should shovel shit, not question me."
"Well, what is it now?" Kit asked, losing her patience as well. "Shit or luggage? But then again, the fact remains unchanged that you weren't invited."
"How would you even know who was invited?"
"Because I wrote the invitations. Geralt's handwriting is…"
"You know how to write? That is nearly impressive for a farmhand." The blonde woman's voice was dripping with arrogance.
"As is your lacking ability to properly judge people. Now, get off my property. If, for some reason, Geralt has somehow forgotten to invite you, he can deal with you when he comes back."
"Your property?"
"Yes. My property."
"If this is yours, then why are you wasting your time with menial tasks like… like that?" She nodded at the manure on the wheelbarrow.
"Maybe because this bride is tired of working on her wedding dress and would like break? But you seem to know better, so maybe just tell me…" Kit challenged her, her foot tapping the ground impatiently.
"You are marrying Geralt of Rivia? Interesting. I had pegged him as someone with better taste."
"For fuck's sake, who are you even?"
"Keira Metz."
Kit nodded. "You must be a good friend, such a good friend that in the five years that I've been with Geralt he couldn't be bothered to mention you even once. Which is impressive considering he has told me that story about him impaling a rat with a fork in total darkness about five times already."
Kit turned around and started shoveling again.
"You may wait for him here but for now, please leave me alone or have the decency to adopt a friendlier tone when you talk to me." To underline her point, Kit let the manure fly off her shovel, aiming for a trajectory that would guarantee a landing right in front of the woman's feet. She promptly stepped back in disgust.
"Imbeciles," she whispered. "The countryside is full of imbeciles and mad people!" Furious, she turned on her heel and walked away. Her mountain of luggage stayed firmly in place.
It was a few hours later when Kit was in the midst of gathering the flowers they had been hanging to dry in a shed for wedding decorations when she heard the familiar neighing of Roach and Nugget.
She set the basket full of dried flowers to the floor and followed the sound.
Her heart stopped when she saw Geralt, paler than usual, barely hanging in the saddle, his head lolling on his chest like a puppet with broken strings.
She ran towards him and only vaguely took notice of Ciri.
"What happened?" she asked calmly as she reached for Geralt.
The witcher groaned when he half climbed, half fell off the horse's back into Kit's arms.
"It's my fault, I'm so sorry," Ciri apologized, voice quavering when she dismounted as well. "I didn't pay attention and…" But she stopped when she realized that Kit was not even listening. She peeled away at Geralt's armor as if she had done it countless times before. The stoic calm with which she did it surprised Ciri. It did not seem to match the character of the worried woman from before.
Kit soon laid bare the bite in Geralt's upper arm. A pattern of black veins was spreading around it as the poison made its way from the wound further into his body.
"There was a ghoul among them. I didn't notice it when it came for me. Geralt tried to protect me, I think he wanted to throw up a shield but it was faster," she tried again, now kneeling next to the pair. Kit had positioned Geralt between her spread legs, having his head rest against her chest, cradling him with one arm as her other hand covered the nasty wound.
"He refused to take any of his potions, just said we had to return as fast as possible."
Kit started to gently rock him, her eyes closed in concentration.
"Is everybody else okay?"
"Yes, but…"
"Good."
Ciri looked at the pair.
"We should do something. He can handle a lot but this might kill him if we leave it untreated."
"I am doing something. Calm down, it's going to be okay."
"Kit, please! Make him drink his potions. You're not going to cuddle him back to health."
Kit opened her eyes to look at the distraught woman who had panic written over her beautiful face.
"But this is exactly what I'm doing. I'm an expert cuddler." She closed her eyes again.
"That she is," Geralt mumbled, voice rough and quiet. He lifted his unharmed arm to touch her cheek which made her smile.
"Is this your version of cold feet? Letting yourself get killed so you won't have to marry me?"
"Mh, I thought it was a reminiscence. Way back when you healed me the first time, it was also a ghoul. Don't you remember?"
"How could I forget? And, just to make sure, while I appreciate the sentiment, please don't get yourself nearly killed at any of our future wedding anniversaries okay? I'm not that old yet, my memory works just fine, no reminders needed."
"Alright. Guess I have to think of something else special for these days."
"I'd appreciate it."
"Is this a joke to you?" Ciri wondered suddenly with barely concealed exasperation.
Kit removed her hand from Geralt's wound to reveal nothing but perfectly normal skin.
"Didn't you tell her?" Kit wondered, her eyes still closed, as she hugged him tightly.
"Not all of it."
Kit groaned. "You're impossible, seriously!" She abruptly got up and let Geralt fall back onto the dusty ground.
Geralt grunted but smiled as he stood up, dusting off his trousers.
Kit briefly scanned Ciri and then held out her hand towards the woman. When she did not react, Kit simply grabbed her by her arm that had gotten a few scratches as well.
"It's what I do," she stated before Ciri could do more than open her mouth.
Kit let go of her arm, the scratches gone.
"I don't understand…" she said quietly as she examined her unblemished skin.
"I can heal a bit and sometimes a bit more. Haven't fully figured it out yet. I have been given this little power as compensation for being ripped out of my world but they neglected to give me suitable instructions so my handling of it is sub-par."
"You're getting better though. Two years ago, you'd have at least taken half an hour to set me straight again with a wound like that," Geralt remarked with some pride in his voice.
"Still, it annoys me," Kit pouted.
"Tell me about it," Ciri rolled her eyes. "They give you powers but nobody tells you how to use them. Same problem here."
"Really?"
Ciri nodded. "I guess he didn't tell you? Especially about that one time when I nearly got everybody killed?"
Kit chuckled. "No, he sold you to me as a golden child, a perfect creation that can do no wrong."
"You did?" Ciri asked, her eyes wide in surprise.
Geralt only shrugged and in return received the softest smile.
He watched with fascination as the two strangers started to discover that they were more alike than they thought.
It was later, when Kit had returned to working on her dress, that Ciri went up the stairs to her atelier.
"Mind if I come in?" she asked.
"Welcome to my kingdom, honorable Empress! Be careful where you step though, the floor is full of needles because they keep falling out of my hand…"
Ciri looked around. The bed, the wardrobe – everything was gone. Instead a large table occupied most of the space in the center of the room whereas clothes rails covered the walls. The metal bars were bending under the weight of countless colorful dresses, tunics and coats.
"Did you make all of these?" Ciri wondered as her she let her hand run over the beautiful fabrics.
"I designed them but others sewed most of them for me. That's never going to be my strong suit." She sighed as she pinned another needle into the dress form in front of her to attach another layer of sheer white fabric to the skirt of the dress she was working on. "I actually hate sewing." Her hands dropped to her sides as she breathed out ini exhaustion. "Should have never attempted to make my own wedding dress."
Ciri looked at the dress form. The bodice had a sweetheart neckline in the front but consisted of only a deep cutout in the back with two thin crossed straps. Tiny glass beads, embroidered in flower-like shapes, were shimmering on the white fabric. She carefully grabbed the delicate, airy looking fabric that was to become the skirt. Unlike the bodice, it lacked any embroidery or other decorations.
"It's beautiful," she said, letting the material flow through her hands like a river of white. Then she smiled. "And yet it is so odd that Geralt of all people would choose a dress maker. He hates formal attire. Sometimes I even think he hates everything that isn't armor and has not at least been covered in blood and guts once."
Kit snorted. "I think you are right. I made some things for him that have a better fit and therefore should be more comfortable. He says he likes them. Don't know if he really does though. He might be lying to make me feel better."
Ciri looked at the woman in front of her. At first she had thought she wore a skirt but it were in fact pants with legs so wide they merely looked like a skirt. The way she dressed seemed to match the way she talked. You could tell something was off without being able to pinpoint quite what it was. She remembered how she had healed Geralt and her with just a touch. Remembered the funny feeling she got when Kit had grabbed her arm.
"How did you learn to handle your powers?" Kit asked suddenly as her hands went back to draping fabric.
"Bold of you to assume that I did." Ciri shook her head but smiled. "When I was younger, Yennefer taught me what she could. But to be honest, I never quite grasped it. Then an elf, Avalla'ch, tried. Since that part of me that is giving me my powers is of elven descent, he knew a little better what to do with me. But there was only so much he could do. And after I lost control…" She did not finish the sentence.
"You were scared?"
Ciri looked up in surprise but then nodded. "Is it so obvious?" she wondered.
Kit shook her head. "No, but it would be only natural. And fear is a horrible teacher."
"You know something about that?"
Kit laughed. "Not on that scale, absolutely not. But… Are you open for an experiment? It won't do any harm, I can guarantee you that."
"I don't think I've got anything to lose."
"I'm not sure how much Geralt told you about where I come from but it's a future about 700 years ahead. And we like to examine everything. Amongst other things how the human mind can influence the body. They conducted a little experiment with people who had broken a leg. One group was treated normally, meaning they would get a cast to immobilize the leg and about six weeks later, when the bone had mended, the cast would be removed. The other group got the same treatment except they were asked to take a few minutes every day to think about walking."
"Walking?" Ciri wondered who had no idea where this was supposed to lead.
"They were supposed to recall exactly what it feels like to walk on their broken leg. How you move your foot, your leg, what your muscles feel like when you do it – visualize all of it. And guess what? The people who resorted to this mental training not only healed faster, they would even experience less amyotrophia in the immobilized leg."
"That is really interesting but how does that help me?"
"I was wondering if maybe you could employ this little exercise – differently of course. Whenever you are frustrated or when fear holds you back, try to imagine a positive outcome. Try to imagine that you are successful at what you attempt, try to recall that feeling of happiness that you have whenever something works out. Imagine all kinds of positive scenarios that you can think of where you can use your abilities to help, to save the day. Not even in big ways, I think small things should work too."
"I'm not sure…"
"Just try," Kit interrupted her. "It costs you nothing."
"Did you do that?"
Kit nodded. "Often, throughout my entire life, even before I came here. Sometimes more, sometimes less successful. It cannot fix all. But surely some. I realize of course that my powers are different from yours. I can only heal and that is hardly a destructive capability. But I have nobody to show me how to do this and I still don't know most of it, I'd say. But I keep imagining myself in a state where I do, where healing anything and everything is the easiest thing in the world. I've done that ever since I was told that I had these powers. And maybe it didn't do anything for me – or maybe it did. But I've become better with time. And I'd like to believe that at least partially my - let's call it mental training is responsible for that."
Ciri had her doubts but decided that, since the idea was not completely unreasonable, she would give it a shot.
She watched as Kit hummed and examined the dress form. When she brushed her hair aside, Ciri noticed something.
"Is that a tattoo?" she wondered, stepping closer without intending to do so.
Absentmindedly Kit touched the skin behind her ear and nodded.
"It… looks like Geralt's medallion."
"It is. I got it because of him. For him, I mean." Kit did not look up as she continued to poke needles into her dress form. "I was… I'm not good at adjusting to this world. Somehow Geralt got the idea that one day I'd leave him. Because he wasn't enough or something equally silly." Kit now looked up to Ciri. "Which is insane of course, I'd never leave him voluntarily. Anyway, when there was an opportunity I thought I'd take it, show him I'm in for the long run." She shook her head. "A few years ago, I thought people who got tattoos for their partner were weird, at least in my world where often the tattoo is more permanent than the relationship. But with him… This is it. And I've never been more certain of anything. But feel free to call me crazy."
Ciri, however, said nothing. Her fingertips ran over a part of her thigh where, beneath her pants, a rose tattoo rested. She thought of Mistle, all those years ago. Nothing had been certain but Mistle had seemed to be forever. Until she was not.
"Not crazy it all," Ciri mumbled as she started to see the other woman in an entirely different light.