Once Kit had left to continue the dreaded work on her dress, not without informing Geralt about some "entitled blond bitch" that was looking for him, he had removed the rest of his armor and then began to ready a horse cart. He still had to pick up benches and tables for their guests to sit on during the feast that they had planned for the wedding. Months ago, when they had first started to think about who to invite, it had become clear rather quickly that they not only wanted their friends to be present but also all the workers of Corvo Bianco and their families; Geralt had felt that this little community had become too tight-knit to leave anybody out. And maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed that after all those years he had earned himself a certain degree of popularity, being no longer the fearsome, hated witcher he used to be but now was recognized as the man behind the profession. Or simply: as an actual person.
Thus he had started to borrow furniture from their neighbors, organized hay bales even, for the guests to sit on.
While he was hitching a somewhat lazy but sturdy and undemanding grey horse to the cart, his fine hearing picked up on soft, barely audible steps.
As the steps approached he pretended to busy himself with checking all the belts and straps, not letting his attention slip for even a second. It was why Geralt, when he felt the air beside his face move, was able to duck, turn around quickly and land a punch in his opponent's stomach.
He found himself quite surprised when he realized who he had just gut punched.
"Lambert?"
"You piece of shit!" huffed the other witcher, a hand placed on his stomach. "What was that for?"
"That was a reminder as to why you shouldn't attack me from behind." Geralt's lips curled into a confident smile when he watched the other man bend over. "It's nearly good to see you," he added.
"There are things I'd rather see but… likewise." Lambert, now recovered, grinned too, a familiar sparkle in his eyes, as he pulled Geralt into a hug – not without trying to ram his shoulder into the other man's chest.
"So this is it, huh? The place where you're playing home nowadays?" Lambert asked as he watched around, running his fingers through his short brown hair.
"How did you know you'd find me here?"
"There was a rumor about the White Wolf getting married, in Toussaint of all places. Naturally, I was not going to miss you getting yourself tangled up in eternal misery with that wretched sorceress."
"A rumor? You came here because of a rumor?"
"Well, I'd rather have gotten an invitation but it must have gotten lost in the mail."
Despite the fact that Lambert had never been his favorite companion, Geralt had actually wanted to invite his brother but neither he nor anyone he knew had had any idea where to look for him.
"Thought you were dead since I hadn't heard from you in a while," Geralt shrugged nonchalantly.
"You wish."
"Sometimes… Sometimes I do."
Lambert merely shook his head at the halfhearted provocation.
"What's happening here?" he nodded at the horse. "Roach got fat."
"Believe her name is Trudy. Not sure though, didn't name her."
"Obviously."
"Obviously," Geralt agreed. "This one," he patted the mare on the neck, "is a work horse. Gets spooked by birds. Definitely not fit for witchers' work. But very reliable. The lock on her box has been broken for months but she never tries to run away, just walks around in circles, looking for food. Sturdy and good at pulling carts. Which is what I need to do now."
"But Trudy? Who on earth gave her that name?" Lambert laughed.
"Kit."
"And that would be who exactly?"
"My fiancée."
Lambert paused for a moment.
"Yennefer changed her name – or am I missing something?"
Geralt though that, if Lambert was to raise his eyebrow even higher, it might just pop off his face.
"Yennefer is gone. Has been for a very long time."
The younger witcher approvingly nodded his head. "So, you've finally come to your senses, eh?" He jumped on the cart. "That sounds like a story I'd actually want to hear. Keira will be disappointed though. She was looking forward to meeting Yennefer. Have you met her already? She should have arrived before me, used a portal."
Geralt was about to negate when he remembered the encounter Kit had informed him of and suddenly thought it an adequate description of Keira. He grimaced for a moment. Once Kit found out that Keira was a sorceress, she would likely try her hardest to become invisible. She still did not like people with magic abilities that much even though the situation had improved greatly after their run-in with Triss a few months ago.
"I think Keira might be around somewhere. Haven't seen her yet but she's already making friends as I heard."
"Friends, huh? Whatever, we'll find her. Unless she finds us first, of course."
"Do I smell trouble?"
"Yes, and it's all your fault. Ever since she got wind of you getting married, she's been giving me that look."
"What look?" Geralt wondered as he took the reins and Trudy, slowly but surely, started to move. The cart rattled beneath them as they made their way over the cracked roads.
"The: why are WE not getting married-look."
Geralt hummed. "Tough luck."
"You're joking now. But wait until she wants to move here and we'll be neighbors. Not sure I can deal with that."
"With what? Living here or being married to her?"
"Actually, I was talking about having to see your stupid face every day." Lambert stretched on the coach box. "Not sure if I can get married to her either."
"It's been what? 15 years? Don't you think you should know by now?"
"Now, you are one to judge. How long did you play catch with Yennefer? A few decades if I recall that correctly."
"And yet I'm here."
"Get off your high horse. Who's that mysterious woman who has a choke-hold on your balls anyway? Yet another sorceress who's permanently walking over you?"
When Lambert met Kit for the first time later that day, he eyed her suspiciously, walked around her in circles to look at her from every angle.
"Is he okay?" Kit wondered, her question directed at Geralt, as she carefully, slowly backed away from Lambert to hide behind Geralt.
"Debatable," he answered.
"Shut up," Lambert grumbled. "I'm just trying to figure out what's so special about her. It's been a moment and she hasn't bitched at anyone or bossed you around even once. Something is wrong. With you or with her, I'm not sure." Lambert shrugged. "Or maybe you've grown a spine after all."
Geralt rolled his eyes.
Lambert did not manage to further inform everybody on his observations and theories as suddenly Keira joined the group.
"There you are! Geralt, good to see you."
"Keira," Geralt nodded.
"So, you do actually know each other then," Kit realized.
"Of course we do!" Keira crossed her arms in front of her chest, her gaze radiating arrogance. "I told you so."
Kit just shrugged. "How would I have known? You never even mentioned her." The last part she had directed at Geralt.
"Wasn't much to tell," he shrugged helplessly.
"You never tell much, even if there is so much to tell!" a new voice suddenly sounded. They all turned around to discover Dandelion, lute strapped across his back. "But ever since you've been with this one," he pointed a thumb at Kit, "your daily wordcount has increased at least 10-fold." He then bowed. "Hello my dear friends! Let the festivities commence!"
Kit jumped excitedly. "Dandelion, you made it. In time even!" She hugged him.
"Well, you can't have a wedding if I'm not officiating it."
Kit opened her mouth to requite but then thought better of it.
Neither Geralt nor Kit were particularly religious. Whereas Geralt found the story of baby Jesus at least fairly interesting, Kit had not been brimming over with enthusiasm for Melitele, Majoran and consorts. It was therefore decided that they would pursue a wedding on legal grounds but that a ceremony would be held the day before for entirely sentimental purposes. Since no actual religion was involved, Dandelion volunteered to devise a little ceremony that would pay respect to wedding traditions from both worlds.
Kit had bet that Dandelion would forget about it and arrive much too late after the wedding date. Geralt who, unlike Kit, had occasionally experienced the surprisingly reliable but increasingly rare side of Dandelion, had bet against her.
"Now that I've won that bet, I think I'm entitled to five wishes." Geralt smirked.
Kit nodded. "Thou shalt honor they gambling debts. But be careful what you wish for."
"A demonstration. Always been curious about that dance that you talked about but refused to further explain to me. What was it? Twerking?"
Later that same day, Zoltan and Regis arrived as well. In the evening Geralt, Kit, Eskel, Ciri and the newcomers went out for drinks.
None of them held back, especially Kit, who, as Geralt had accurately predicted, tried to shrink back into herself after learning about Keira's magical nature. When she was already fairly plastered and had gained some courage, she said to Keira: "You're a bitch. I don't like you."
Keira, unable to sit straight, tried to look Kit in the face.
"And you're… a yokel." She hiccupped.
Kit raised her glass. "To bitches and yokels!"
Keira tried to clink her glass with Kit but missed by a wide margin. "Bokels!" she managed to say, downed her drink and promptly passed out.
After that the two of them were fairly nice to each other, even though they would constantly address the other one as bitch or yokel. Since it seemed Keira was not too bothered by a few playful insults, Kit felt reassured and not quite as threatened anymore.
The days had been busy and chaotic with more and more people arriving. The evenings without exception were spent drinking – in taverns or gathered around bonfires. People were happy, many of them had not seen each other for years.
When she was not working on her dress, Kit tried to spend as much time as possible with Geralt's friends, especially those that she had never met before. Quite often he would find her sitting somewhere with Ciri, talking about strange new worlds. The two women always went quite when Geralt approached and looked at him in a way that made sure he understood that he was currently not welcome. They did it with the most beautiful smiles on their faces. He was not sure how they managed to do that.
Whenever Geralt rode through the countryside with Ciri, he would try to ask her what all that was about.
"Getting to know my stepmother," Ciri would joke.
"Ciri…"
"Chill, Geralt," Ciri would say, having adopted a few phrases from Kit's lingo. "I'm just joking. She's giving me a bit of an insight into her world, history, governments. You know, typical girls' talk between world travelers."
At least that had gone according to plan, he thought.
"Have you come to any new realizations?"
Ciri nodded. "She can't help me in deciphering a lot of the things I've experienced but I think I now know what questions to ask and what to look for next time. She sort of gave me a frame of reference by describing her world. I'm sure I can build on that." She smiled.
Ciri had loosened up in the past few days, a certain weightlessness had returned to her step. They had gone out to fight a few more unwelcome creatures, finding back to their old groove. Geralt enjoyed their time together but even more than that he was always pleased to discover that Ciri, momentarily freed of her duties, was doing better again.
Geralt sat on the bed in one of the guest houses, trying once again to focus on his book of which he had not read even half a page ever since the afternoon that Ciri had arrived.
The night was quiet, save for the mumble of a conversation held between Zoltan and Dandelion who were standing guard in front of his door. And because it was so quiet, he was able to hear the familiar pattern of approaching footsteps from far away. The window squeaked and rattled ever so slightly when she opened it to climb through.
Without looking up from his book, he said: "Was starting to think you had actually abandoned me for the night." He smiled to himself, as she wiggled through the small window, careful to not get stuck on some splintered wood with her nightgown and thin overcoat.
Kit huffed as she closed the shutters, climbed onto the bed next to him and took a book out of the small bag she had brought with her. She leaned against Geralt's broad arm, her head resting against his shoulder as she propped the book open.
"I regret telling these people anything about wedding traditions in my world. Spending the night before the wedding apart – what an awful and nonsensical idea." Her voice hinted at a mild annoyance. "But it was a tactical mistake on their part to lock you up in here whereas nobody cared about guarding my door."
"They think you too innocent."
"They should know better by now." A proud smile crossed her lips.
"Any night without you is wasted," he said earnestly.
Kit turned her head to press a kiss on his naked arm.
"I sleep better with you next to me. And I cannot risk looking sleep deprived tomorrow – even if there will be no photographs."
"Of course, my lady. I'll always volunteer to be just a means to an end. Please don't bother to treat me as your equal. I'm happy to be nothing more than some sort of better pillow to you."
"What do you want me to say, kitten?" Her voice had adopted a slightly mocking tone. "That without you my nights will be sleepless? That I won't find rest when you're not around because you are my protector – because you make me feel warm and welcome and loved whereas I have unlearned to fall asleep without you next to me?"
Geralt nodded. "Sounds accurate – and like a good start."
"Well then, rejoice, because it is all true," she said flatly, focused on her reading but smiling.
Geralt closed his book and carelessly pushed it to the side, vaguely aware of the dull thud it made when it slid off the bed. He grabbed Kit's book as well, gave it a similar treatment and forced her to look him in the eyes. His hand trailed along her naked arm, finally cupped her face.
"What?" Kit asked, smiling expectantly as he held her.
Geralt looked at her. He was hardly able to recall the times when she was not his. The time shortly after she had arrived felt like a strange, vague memory from another life. Once again, he realized that his life had taken the most unimaginable turn. A witcher was not supposed to die in bed but somewhere in a ditch, somewhere on the path. And yet here he was, the life before her seeming like an impossible fluke that was never meant to be.
He smiled as he did so often nowadays.
"Have I ever thanked you properly?"
She looked up to him in wonder.
"The night I found you and took you home, do you know what I thought about on the way? Thought: Hope nobody sees us. If they find me riding around with an unconscious woman, they'll hang me, ban me, take Corvo Bianco from me… Might have had a deal with the Duchess but I never felt safe. Just one accusation would have been enough for me to lose everything. And then you came and acted like I was just a person."
"You are a person, silly."
"But not with the same rights. Not until you made it so. Your presence protects me from being ostracized for being different. I'm sure that, if it wasn't for you, I'd long lost everything. But I haven't. It's all well and it's all thanks to you. I have security because of you."
"Don't be so… dramatic." She blushed. "People just didn't know you before. And now they do." She reached out for him, her thumb caressing his cheek. "I'm glad this happened."
"What exactly?" he wondered, grabbing her hand and holding it up to his lips, closing his eyes as he felt her energy run over the sensitive skin.
"Ending up in this world. I'm truly glad it happened."
It took Geralt a moment to process what she had just said. And when he finally did his heart, that was only ever excited by potions, did something it had not done in over a century: it skipped a beat.
He had never quite been able to ban the pictures of her from his mind, in the early days, when the loss of what she had been ripped away from had reduced her to tears, her pain so deep he could feel it even though he only had the faintest idea what it was that she had been removed from. He had been certain that nothing he could ever do would be enough to make up for that, to make her forget. While she had told him many times that she loved him, that she was happy with him, there had always been an air of 'despite'. Happy despite what had happened. Happy despite the fact that she would never be able to introduce her parents to him. Initially she had put that feeling into words. She had eventually stopped to spell it out but it had always lingered in the air around her, in the way she longingly looked at something in the distance that was invisible to him.
But today there was no 'despite'. Today there was just the simple fact.
His heart added an extra beat. He was enough. He was more than enough. He could finally stop to feel guilty about having this person in his life when she was the one paying the price for his unimaginable happiness.
He pulled her close, something stinging in his throat, as he kissed the crown of her head.
"This is the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me," he confessed in a whisper.
Kit's arms wrapped tighter around him.
"I was hoping you'd say that about my vows tomorrow," she whispered back.
"No vows then."
He felt her nod.
"Then this is just for us," she agreed.
Geralt rested his forehead against hers, wrapping himself tightly around her before he started kissing her as once more words failed to convey what he needed her to know.
And she kissed him back like she had understood.
In the early hours of morning, Geralt felt Kit stir next to him.
"Sleep," she whispered as she kissed his cheek. Seemingly moving without weight, she left the bed. Only the squeaking sound of the opening window told him that she was gone. He felt for where she had been mere minutes ago but found the bed empty. For a moment the discovery of warm but empty sheets left him disappointed – only to remember that he would never find them empty ever again. He rolled over to her side, buried his face in the pillow that still smelled like her. He smiled and fell asleep again.
By the time the sun was setting and temperatures had become more favorable to most animate beings, friends and family started to gather near the old oak tree behind the house.
Geralt, waiting in front of a flower covered wooden arch, felt misplaced as he sensed all eyes upon him. It was not a novel experience to him, people had stared at him all his life. But there had never been such an air of expectancy. He knew how to deal with hostility but positive attention was an entirely different matter. In his black tunic, reminiscent (according to Kit) to a tuxedo, in front of the colorful flowers he did not even manage to fade into the fast approaching night.
To distract himself, he focused on the dried flowers that had been wrapped around the arch in skillfully devised patterns, trying to count their numbers.
When he had counted up to 75, a dried sunflower, Regis finally appeared, arm linked with Kit, the two of them slowly striding towards the lone witcher. Kit had no father or other family members in this world and while she and Regis had only met a few times in person, they had kept up their letter writing over the years, forging a special bond between them. Once it was established that the ceremony would merge aspects of both worlds' marriage customs, there was no question as to who would give Kit away.
Geralt felt more at ease as he watched her, the top of her dress sparkling faintly in the light of the setting sun, the white of the flowing fabrics of her skirt so unusual against the setting of the lush, colorful landscape around them. Truly out of this world, he thought. He nodded towards Regis who tried his best to tame the wide smile that was about the spread across his face and might have revealed a few more teeth than he wanted to show. Even after all these years the vampire prided himself in having contributed to helping this relationship come into existence and he liked to remind them of it.
Geralt took Kit's hands from Regis. The feeling of weirdness immediately ceased, skin prickling where she touched him. The world around him blurred as he watched her.
She, in turn, seemed to be on the verge of tears, looking at him, the smile on her lips quavering, heart beating frantically. Even his own heart seemed to beat a little faster than it normally should.
Dandelion draped a chain of braided flowers over their joined hands. Without noticing it, they both inched closer and closer to each other during the ceremony. Initially, Geralt had held her hands, then her wrists, elbows and now her upper arms as her hands had wandered up his chest. At one point Dandelion tried to separate them again but his efforts were futile. By the end not even a piece of paper would have fit between their bodies and the braided flowers had fallen to the ground.
Dandelion talked, in great length, about the poetry of love and only stopped when Geralt and Kit simultaneously turned their faces towards him as he was about to get into a part of their relationship that was not suitable for public discussion, and managed to silence him.
"Get to the point," Geralt whispered between clenched teeth.
"Yeah, get to the point!" Lambert echoed from somewhere. Of course, his hearing, equally as fine as Geralt's, had picked up on the whispered words. Eskel, sitting next to him, tried not to laugh whereas Keira gave him her finest, annoyed side-eye.
Dandelion seemed to notice however, that Lambert's wish seemed to coincide with what the audience wanted – and that were not stories about all things carnal and how the couple's love had cost him precious nights of sleep.
He cleared his throat.
"Fine. Fine. Geralt of Rivia, will you take Kit to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." He said it quickly and without hesitation.
"And Kit of… of… uh." Dandelion faltered for a moment as he slowly realized his mistake.
Geralt had never asked her for her family name. When he had forced her to go to the solicitor's office to have her name on the title of Corvo Bianco, the man had asked for her full name.
"Kit of?" he wondered, looking at her from over the rims of his glasses that had threatened to slip off his nose exactly 22 times during the half hour they were in his office.
"Of nowhere and no one. I don't have another name."
And Geralt had understood as he felt her grip tighten around his hand that he had been holding the entire time. The family that she used to be a part of was no more – at least not with her in it. Her body had never been born in this world, it had merely been constructed. Consequently, there were no parents to her, therefore no family name. She had even insisted on being listed just as Kit, not even Kathrin, her real name. She had disliked that name all along and she later explained that she preferred to keep the nickname she had been given once rather than continuing to use that reminder of parents whose daughter she no longer was.
"New life, new name," she had said and that had been that.
"Kit," the poet corrected himself. "Do you take Geralt to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do." Loud and clear.
"By the power vested in me, I declare…"
But Geralt did not hear what his friend declared because as soon as his lips touched hers, the world around him went silent. He only opened his eyes when he tasted salt in their kiss and carefully wiped the tears from Kit's face with his thumb.
"Making my wife cry the moment she becomes mine was not how I imagined things would go."
"Better get used to it. This won't be the last time you see me cry out of joy, dear husband."
Husband. The word sounded so unfamiliar, so strange, and yet…
People lined up to give their well-wishes as musicians started to play in the background and the buffet was set up under the watchful eyes of Barnabas-Basil who had insisted on coordinating the event despite having been offered to enjoy himself and just partake as a guest.
"It has been a while since this property has seen a good festivity. I would like to make sure that we use this opportunity to return Corvo Bianco to the brilliance of its glory days."
"It's okay," Kit said quietly after Barnabas-Basil left, "we'll just fill him up later in the evening and make sure he gets to have some fun."
"What a devious woman you are," Geralt chided her.
"What a compliant husband you will be – if you want this man to get some time off."
Geralt did not argue.
"And there goes your freedom," Lambert announced when it was his turn to congratulate.
"Be careful," Keira warned him, shooting him a glance that spoke of annoyance. Lambert merely rolled his eyes.
"Hope the wedding night is worth is," he added and left.
"Congratulations, yokel. You got yourself a good man," Keira said as she hugged Kit.
"Thank you, bitch," Kit replied with a grin.
"What a great couple they make." Kit cocked her head as Keira left to follow Lambert.
"Guess sometimes it's just meant to be," Geralt remarked with a chuckle as Lambert and Keira kept bickering and yet reached out for each other to dance.
"Will you grant me this dance, my dear wife?"
"How can I say no to that, dear husband?"
The night was mild. People ate, drank and danced. Before it got too dark for those guests who had not been genetically altered or who happened to be vampires, Eskel and Ciri set up torches everywhere, adding to the magical sparkle in the sky.
Geralt held Kit tightly as they danced – for only the second time that evening as they had spent all the rest of the time dancing with their guests.
"There is a rumor that there is something for me to discover beneath your skirt." His lips curled into an impish smile as he whispered the words into her ear.
"It's a garter. When you take it off me, you cannot use your hands."
"Mh." He hummed. "Can I use my feet?"
"No. Mouth only."
"Interesting. What's the meaning of that?"
"I have no idea. But I'm looking forward to it."
"As do I…"
During the past few days, the two of them had not been able to spend much time together. Nearly every waking minute was spent with their guests and Kit, being stretched thin in between all she had to do and that Geralt could not help her with, had fallen asleep in the evenings the moment she had touched the bed. Sometimes even before that.
"Maybe we should just sneak off quickly…" Kit suggested in a hushed whisper.
"Behind the barn," Geralt answered. "You go ahead and I'll follow you in a moment."
Kit smiled and slowly strode away from him.
Suddenly, they heard high-pitched neighing. Out of nowhere Trudy was galloping towards them – not very fast because she simply could not do fast. But the horse was clearly spooked by something, her eyes wide open in panic. It took Geralt a moment to figure it out but then he saw a whole flock of peacocks. An entire swarm of the beautiful birds, feathered tails on full display, were chasing after Trudy as fast as their short legs would allow them – which was impressively fast.
Behind them, snickering like a maniac, was Lambert.
"You were right! The horse is scared of birds!" He laughed as he ran after the birds, a bottle of wine in one hand, the other hand raised to sign Axii. A single peacock tailfeather, that had been attached to the back of his belt, flopped up and down and beautifully underlined the madness of it all.
Geralt took a moment to admire the fact hat Lambert was able to control the birds while obviously completely shitfaced.
The view of the bulky horse chased by a flock of birds would have been truly comic – had it not been for the commotion it caused. Trudy ran straight towards Kit who she had long ago identified as a safe haven – probably because of her powers that she enjoyed just as much as any other mammal. The massive horse however was fairly bad at estimating what the force of its body would do to the body of Kit if the two of them were to collide at full speed. Because had the horse known about its strength in relation to others, it surely would have trampled the birds instead of trying to run from them.
Kit however, while not firm on the math, did understand what the mass of the horse, combined with speed, would do to her, and helplessly stumbled to the side, tripping over the skirt of her dress and nearly losing balance, catching herself in the very last moment as Trudy raced by and was promptly caught by Eskel who grabbed the horse by its halter.
Not wanting to cause a feathery massacre and traumatize the guests, Geralt blasted a milder version of Aard at Lambert thereby breaking his concentration and the spell on his feathered slaves. The birds halted for a moment, clucked, turned their small blue heads from side to side in obvious confusion, and then walked off to where they had come from. Poor Trudy kept rearing up and neighed in panic until Eskel forced her to quiet down by using Axii himself
Thinking that any danger had been averted, Geralt took a deep breath.
"Fire!" someone called. "She's on fire!"
By the time Geralt noticed that the skirt of Kit's dress had caught fire on one of the torches that were stuck into the ground all over the place, someone had already procured a jug of wine and emptied it over the confused, burning bride. Other guests followed the example and two more jugs were used to extinguish the burning Kit.
Kit herself, it seemed, had not even noticed and looked at the people with the empty jugs in utter confusion.
"Oh," she finally said and gathered a part of her soaking wet skirt in her hand to examine the damage.
Geralt hurried over to her. "Are you alright?" he asked in a panicked voice, checking her for burns.
Kit, still not quite caught up with the situation, answered: "I… think so."
She slowly spun around herself, trying to inspect her backside for any damage. Somehow the end of her braid had gotten singed as well. She held her hair in her hand and pulled cautiously. The braid was more extravagant than what she usually wore and had been meticulously woven with the help of her friend Anais who they had first met at her own wedding.
Kit looked at the blackened hair, twirled it in her fingers and, without looking up, asked: "Geralt, do you happen to have any of your really sharp knifes around? You know, the ones you won't let me touch?"
"What do you want with a knife?"
"Just get it, please."
He frowned but ultimately did as he was told as other people started to gather around his still somewhat absent-looking wife to make sure she was alright.
"What now?" he wondered, holding his favorite, recently sharpened dagger in his hand. The blade shimmered in the moonlight.
"Here," she turned her back to him and pointed at a part of the braid that was a few hands above the singed area. "Cut it off, right there."
He hesitated a moment. She had had long hair when she had gotten here but it had grown all the way to her bottom as she rarely bothered to have it cut.
"Are you sure?" he wondered.
"It's gotten way too long anyway. It's such a hassle to take care of."
He nodded, grabbed the braid, carefully pulled the hair tight and then cut away from her body towards himself. The sharp blade went through the hair as if there was no obstacle at all.
Kit turned around and smiled contently when she saw the partially burned braid in her husband's hand.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to dress in something else."
When she was about to walk off he dropped the blade, all while holding the braid firmly in his hand, reaching out with the other hand to stop her.
"Kit, are you alright?" he asked again. He thought her way too calm for someone who had nearly been burned a few moments ago.
"I'm good. Just a bit shocked I think." She smiled when she saw his unconvinced expression.
"What about your dress?" he asked. For someone who had poured hours and hours of work into it, she seemed uncharacteristically unconcerned about its destruction.
She shrugged. "To be completely honest: I'm glad it's trashed. I wasted too much time on it that I could have spent in much better ways. I was in way over my head, I shouldn't have tried to make it myself. I… I like it but at the same time I can't stand to look at it anymore." Noticing the doubt in his glance, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "It's just a dress and I'm okay, I promise. How about this: I'll go and get changed because I stink of wine for all the wrong reasons. And you give Lambert a good ass whooping."
She gathered the wet skirt and turned around.
Geralt was about to stop her when Ciri stepped in.
"Let me..."
Thankfully, he nodded at her.
She found Kit in her little atelier browsing through the multitude of dresses hanging on their racks.
"Mind if I come in?" she asked.
Kit turned, obviously surprised that someone had followed her.
"Sure, come in." She turned back to the dresses and finally pulled one out. "There you are, ha!"
"It's beautiful." Ciri looked at the red dress, already able to tell it would flow just as nicely as the ruined wedding dress.
Kit smiled at it.
"This one is special. Geralt got it for me when I still thought all of this was a joke. I wore this one… I guess you could say on our first date. Seems appropriate for today, don't you think? And if more people decide to extinguish me using red wine at least the stains won't be so visible."
Ciri snorted. "A very practical way of thinking."
Kit grinned and put the dress aside.
"Mind helping me out? No, just take the scissors over there and cut the back open. It's not like I'm ever going to wear this again."
Ciri, though hesitant, did as she was told.
"Too bad, the fabrics were probably expensive. The one with the glass beads must have cost a fortune."
"I didn't have to pay for any of the materials actually. I remember that the beaded fabric was insanely expensive but the Duchess paid for it. The piece that I made the bodice from? That's a leftover scrap piece that I was allowed to take home. It was just barely big enough and we had no need for it. And the others," she peeled out of the loosened-up dress, clutched it to her chest and ran her fingers over the ruined skirt, "are also leftovers, save for the top layer of the skirt. The finest, thinnest silk from Ofir. A gift from Geralt. He knows I have a soft spot for flowing fabrics."
"I noticed," Ciri said as she spun around in her own emerald green dress – one that she had borrowed from Kit as she felt that the heavy nilfgaardian garment she had brought with her was too much for the heat.
Kit put the dress aside, washed up quickly over a shallow, water-filled bowl and started to put on the red dress.
"Can you do the lacing for me?"
Ciri started to tighten the dress but then stopped. She carefully touched Kit's back.
"You got burned."
Kit did not turn around and shrugged instead.
"It's fine, it'll have healed by tomorrow. But," she hobbled away and pulled a scrap piece of white, soft fabric out of a basket, "let's put this in between my skin and the dress. I don't need another dress ruined if I start bleeding or whatever."
Ciri did as she was told. But one question was nagging her.
"Why don't you just heal yourself now? I saw what you did to Geralt, what you did to me. Why not make this disappear? This should be nothing in comparison."
Kit unraveled the rest of her braids before she answered. Her now shoulder-length her fell down in soft waves.
"I can't." She paused. "Like you, I don't have as much control about what I can do as I would like. If it's about Geralt or someone else I can just will myself to do it - but when it comes to myself? I don't know..."
"And that little method you told me about doesn't work for you?" Ciri wondered.
"It does – when I heal others. I got much better over the years. But for me, to heal myself? No. I think this is not technically about me being unable to do it. I… I assume it's something subconscious." She blushed. "It's so silly…"
"Humor me. I won't make fun of you." Ciri continued to lace the dress.
"Ever since I met him, Geralt has been fussing about me. And, truth be told, I like it when he does that. And I'm wondering if maybe that's the reason for the delayed healing. I don't want that to go away if I can just heal myself within an instant." She sighed. "I know it's stupid. It's just a thought anyway. But there is no question that I'm somewhat… weak when he's around." She shrugged sheepishly, face blushed.
"Did I understand correctly? You are fine with being in pain as long as that leads to Geralt taking care of you?"
Kit sighed. "I used to be independent, believe it or not. But some of that must have gotten lost along the way. It's just so nice to have someone like him to lean on. Someone who is so caring… reliable."
Ciri smiled to herself. Geralt was in good hands.
Later that night, when the party was in full swing again, a gift from the palace arrived. It was a generous delivery of alcohol that all guests took to rather well. At one point, Dandelion was so drunk that he threatened Kit: "If… if you ever… hurt Geralt, I'll… I'll…" The bard kept pointing his index finger at her but could not seem to find the end of the sentence and instead wavered like a ship in a storm.
"I won't," Kit said and hugged Dandelion.
"Good." He kissed her on the cheek and staggered away, not without turning around and pointing at her again, trying and failing to put on a serious face.
Ciri woke when the sun had just barely begun to rise. She found herself halfway on the ground, Eskel's stomach serving as a pillow for her head, a bottle of some liquor still in her hand. Her head was buzzing. Nevertheless, she thought about what her father would think if he could see her, the empress, sleeping in the dirt, dead drunk. She giggled but stopped because it hurt her head. Carefully she sat up and oriented herself.
The view in front of her was worthy of a painting, she thought. Geralt, Kit, Dandelion and Lambert were sleeping on a few hay bales. Geralt's head rested on Kit's thighs, her hand lay on his head, fingertips buried in his hair. She herself was sitting, leaning against Dandelion, who was snoring with his mouth wide open, supported on the other side by Lambert. A red mark still glowed in the witchers' face where Keira had slapped him after the peacock-incident.
Ciri watched for a while longer, waiting for her head to calm itself.
After a while Geralt started to stir. Just like Ciri, he found himself confused but regained his orientation quickly. He smiled and shook his head, as he carefully grabbed Kit. Now that the balance was disturbed, the weight of Lambert against Dandelion made both of them topple over to the side, Lambert's face resting on the poet's behind.
Geralt grinned as he carried his bride back into the house.
She only woke when he lowered her onto the bed.
"Not yet, sleep," she mumbled, draping her arm over her eyes.
"Sleep," he whispered as he laid down next to her. He noticed that her skirts had ridden up her leg and revealed the garter she had talked about. "So much for a wedding night," he whispered as he pulled her close against his chest and ran his fingers through the shorter, wavy hair that still smelled a bit like wine.
"Legally we are only getting married this afternoon. So technically, our wedding night would only be tonight," Kit suddenly piped up with shocking clarity.
"Will it matter though? Once we get back, people will still be here and we'll end up doing anything but consummating this marriage."
"Then we need to consummate before we get back," she mumbled into his chest, yawning. "Guest house, alley, royal gardens or somewhere in the forest. Your choice, husband."
Geralt stopped trying to fight his heavy eyelids.
"Whatever is closest," he mumbled. But Kit had not heard and had fallen asleep already.
Dear reader,
what a wedding! I can now claim with certainty to have been the hottest bride around – literally - because I was on fire. Other than that, it was a wonderful night. I admit, I don't remember all of it but apparently many people never made it home and just slept on the grounds. This party has been rated 5 out of 5 passed out dead drunks.
Luckily, Regis was watching over everybody, administering a little first aid if it was needed. It is a good thing that the entire range of human bodily fluids does not faze him very much.
Suffice it to say that I will never forget this day (except for the parts that I have already forgotten because I was part of those dead drunks).
Later, Geralt and I peeled out of bed, still fully dressed. I had planned on wearing my actual wedding dress when we would go to take care of the legal stuff. But the dress was halfway burned and stained pink where I had been showered in wine. So that was a no. I guess I could keep the dress in case Halloween is ever established on a commercial level and wear it as a costume. But I might just trash the skirt and save the bodice, maybe frame it. I don't think I can bring myself to throw the entire dress away and at least the bodice has no scorch or wine marks.
Anyway, for a moment I considered dressing up again but… ugh. Tired. So we went to the city in matching, crumpled outfits. My bed hair was on fleek even though I'm sure nobody but me appreciated that because bed hair is not a thing yet. Too bad. I was so ready for the cover of Vogue.
Once the papers were signed and we were legally married my husband and I tried to find a quiet corner to… make out. But people would not have it. Since when is that stupid town so busy? So we decided to go back to Corvo Bianco, trying to be sneaky and not be seen by anyone. And for once we were lucky.
Geralt had halfway undressed himself before he helped me out.
"I feel like I'm having a deja-vu," he said because about five years ago he had helped me out of that same dress. He had been a gentleman then, averting his gaze when I asked him to.
Today he was very much my husband, his hands all over every inch of skin he managed to free, his body tightly pressed to mine, making sure I could feel what we had been missing for the past few weeks.
We consummated, as they say. Repeatedly, because we wanted to make sure. Nothing worse than someone appearing and declaring your marriage void for lack of consummation, right?
But I guess I skipped over a few things. Many of Geralt's friends had been arriving weeks before the wedding. It was a good thing we had converted a lot of empty buildings and huts into guest houses, even though I think some of them would not have minded to sleep without a roof over their heads. Zoltan seemed nearly insulted at the thought of not camping outside.
Keira is different though. I was in a pretty foul mood when I met her the first time, having no idea who she was. Had I known I might have reacted a little differently. But I only learned she was a sorceress quite a bit after our first encounter. I cannot say I love her but she is… okay. And while she is a bitch extraordinaire, I don't think she tried to turn me into a frog at any point in time. So maybe… maybe not all people with magic abilities are bad? Setting the bar a bit low but… well.
I also finally got to meet Lambert, the only witcher of the school of the wolf who I had not yet run into. Turns out Geralt's descriptions were fairly accurate. Just like Keira, he's a bit of an asshole. And, wouldn't you know it, they seem to be a perfect match for each other.
That leaves Eskel as the lone wolf. But he's not complaining. Ever since I accidentally healed his facial scars, he is considered much less scary by other people. In Toussaint, women seem to outright adore him. So he's not lonely at all.
Ciri asked me about Eskel's scars by the way. Nobody told her, she figured it was my doing. Smart woman. I did not wait until she asked, just told her that I could (probably) make her scar disappear too if she wanted it. But here is the difference between her and Eskel: Eskel was an outcast already because he was a witcher. The scars just fueled peoples' fantasies and fears, making him more isolated as nobody dared to get to know him. Ciri however, is the empress. And she's beautiful and fierce and I think that scar suits her so well. I think it says a lot about what kind of ruler she is or is going to be. This is pretty much what I told her. My offer still stands but she has not taken me up on it. And I hope she never does. She is wonderful just the way she is.
Things between her and Geralt seemed to have normalized as well. She promised again that she would write and Geralt promised he would come to Nilfgaard eventually to visit her. Suck it, Emhyr!
Anyway, it was an absolute joy to see Geralt interact with her. He was so happy getting the chance to be a proud dad again – we must make sure that it does not take years for them to meet again.
It's been wild, truly. Geralt is lying in bed next to me, completely passed out. The crumpled sheets he is using as pillow (I'm hogging the pillows currently) will leave a nice imprint on his face.
God, this man makes me so happy…
Kit put her diary away and looked at her husband who lay on his belly and whose face was halfway buried in the sheets. She carefully brushed a few strands of hair out of his face before she slid into a lying position next to him, face so close that their noses touched, pressing her naked body against his.
Geralt hummed and sluggishly lifted an arm to put around her waist, his hand resting on her back, his fingers digging into her soft skin.
She closed her eyes and whispered: "I love you more than anything."