-2-
It was noon when they arrived at the palace. Geralt remembered it well from his first stay in Toussaint and it was no less imposing all these years later as it towered over the city.
A maid led them to their room while he tried to guess why they had a room to begin with.
"This is where we usually spend the night. Your clothes are over there," Kit nodded to a chair.
At the sight of the pile, which contained something that was obviously made of very expensive and delicate silk, he just hummed, trying hard to keep his unfavorable opinion to himself.
This made Kit chuckle.
"It's not as bad as you think," she said with a glance at the garments and squeezed his hand quickly as she walked past him to hang up her own dress behind a room divider. Her touch, so unexpected, caused the hairs on his neck to stand up, and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He wanted to hold onto her hand but she had already let go of his.
"And if you really come to the conclusion that it's bad, which you won't, then you may go all Miranda Priestly on me and make me the target of your foul mood, okay?"
"You sound awfully confident." He had folded his arms across his chest, not even wanting to touch the uncomfortable nightmare and simultaneously wondered what a priest had to do with all of it.
Kit just smiled.
"Okay then, let's go. I see you can hardly wait."
"How can you tell?" Geralt, who had been standing still the whole time, wondered on what she had based her very accurate assessment.
"It's Ciri. You always get antsy when she comes to visit regardless of whether you saw her a year ago or just yesterday." He raised an eyebrow but Kit ignored him and headed for the door.
He hated that she could to see right through him because he really was impatient. Knowing Ciri was here made him want to run and find her.
"She'll be so happy to see you," she said and then added almost inaudibly: "Again."
She grinned to herself and shook her head.
Geralt hummed and quietly prayed that this was exactly what it seemed to be, that Ciri was really there, safe and well. It was unbelievable, too strange, too easy. He prepared himself for disappointment.
Usually, when people were willing to give him something that he wanted, they expected something in return – unless it was a trap to begin with. He wondered what price he would pay and why, unlike in all the other cases, it had not been demanded in advance.
Because she really cares, because she really is your wife, a small voice in his head argued.
Once again, he wondered what had happened, why he could not remember. But the thought was quickly pushed aside by the anticipation of meeting the girl who was like a daughter to him and for whom he had searched all over the continent.
Kit led him through several more or less familiar corridors before she grabbed his arm without warning and pulled him behind a tapestry depicting a brave knight's battle against a giant wearing what looked like a bucket on his head. He wondered what had inspired this nonsensical scene and why someone had surely paid a decent amount of gold to have it eternalized in form of an enormous tapestry. What a waste.
Suddenly Geralt found himself in a narrow hallway lit only by torches. One side of the corridor was lined with doors. As he walked past, he noticed that most of them were not real, just dummies set up to confuse potential intruders.
"What is this?" he wondered.
"A shortcut."
Geralt had lived inside the castle for a while, back in the day, when he had first searched for Ciri. But he had never known of any secret passages. Not this one anyway. And he and Regis had done their darnest to uncover the castle's many mysteries since elven architecture tended to harbor one or the other secret.
The fact that Kit knew so much about him and his surroundings frustrated Geralt. The last time he had lost his memory, people around him, people he trusted, had kept important information from him. Of course, he had not known that back then. And while Kit seemed sweet and nice, he was painfully aware of the power difference between them. She knew things that he did not. Would she abuse that power or was she as harmless as she seemed? The longer he looked at her, tried to dissect her, the more intriguing she became to him. And yet, at the same time, he grew more and more suspicious of her.
Unaware of Geralt's thoughts, Kit marched on through the dark, seemingly endless corridor until she suddenly stopped in front of another door. She knocked once, then four times, then two more times in quick succession. After just a moment, the door was opened by a guard and they found themselves in a dark room. The guard opened another door for them, which, as Geralt realized a few moments later, seemed to belong to a massive wardrobe. A secret passage through a wardrobe. What an odd thing to have. And what a fantastic way to escape when necessary. He could not help but be impressed by the idea.
"There you are! Your message worried me."
Geralt recognized the voice at once even though it was different. Different but yet similar enough.
It was her and yet it was not – at least not the Ciri he knew. It should not have surprised him that she was older now, even without the 20 years he could not remember. But for some reason, even with that knowledge, in his mind she had never aged even a single day.
There she was, without a doubt. Those bright green eyes could only be hers. There was a lightness in her step as she approached him that could only be found in someone who had been trained as a witcher. But she did not look like she ought. She looked so much older than he had expected. He noticed the first fine lines on her forehead. Strangely enough, despite the shock, he thought it suited her, that it gave her a gravitas worthy of an Empress. But he also noticed at once that Ciri, despite the title, had not neglected her training. Her arms were bare so he could see that they were appropriately muscular for someone who frequently trained with a sword. Calanthe would have been proud, he thought.
It really must have been 20 years, he admitted to himself. For a moment it pained him that he had lost decades with her. Life was fleeting and fragile, this was not fair.
But she was alive and well and happy. Without thinking he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. He felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders as he hugged her tightly and felt the skin of her cheek against his. Warm, alive.
"Ciri," he murmured into her ear, her gray hair tickling his nose.
"I missed you too," she said, a little surprised by the intensity of the hug. She tried to pull away but realized she was trapped in his embrace. "Everything alright?" she laughed. "It's hardly been a day since we last saw each other. You are right to miss me but perhaps not quite that much."
Geralt finally let go of her. He looked thoroughly confused.
"Yesterday?" he asked.
"Things aren't what they used to be," Kit said as she also approached Ciri for a hug.
"What happened this time?" Ciri wondered and gave them both a questioning look.
Geralt watched the two women hugging like old friends.
It must be true then, he thought, as he looked at Ciri, the irrefutable proof that he did not remember everything that he should have.
"Lost his memory," Kit nodded to Geralt. "Again. You have the unique opportunity to tell him your version of what happened in the last 20 years because as of this morning he has forgotten it all. He doesn't even remember that the two of you spent the past two days together."
"What on earth happened?" Ciri wondered, her eyebrows knitted in worry and confusion. Her attentive eyes quickly looked him over from top to bottom.
"If I just knew…" Geralt shrugged. Right now, he cared not one bit about why he could not remember. Ciri was obviously happy to see him which meant that, despite her being Empress, they were still bonded, still had some kind of loving relationship. It meant he had not royally screwed up, that she had not felt entirely abandoned by him. And for the moment that was enough for Geralt.
He could not take his eyes off her. She was so tall now. Her face lean instead of round. Her hair neatly combed and braided instead of a wind-tousled mess. She was calm and steady in a way young Ciri could have never been.
Kit quickly filled Ciri in on the morning's developments and her glance softened.
"We'll figure it out, I'm sure." She squeezed Kit's hand and gave her a reassuring smile.
Kit smiled back half-heartedly and then cleared her throat.
"I want to check up on Corinne and the other seamstresses. I'll see you later?" she asked.
Ciri, who knew that Corinne had long since retired, understood that Kit just wanted to give her and Geralt some privacy, and nodded.
With one last look at Geralt, Kit went back through the fake wardrobe into the secret passage that they had come through.
"What is it with you always getting yourself into trouble?" Ciri scolded him like a petulant child. Geralt could hardly comprehend the strangeness of it – after all, only yesterday, she had been the child. But now she stood there before him, surrounded by an air of command that suited her so well. There was no doubt that this was not the unhappy, displaced child he had lost. She was a woman who had clearly grown into herself.
Ciri beckoned Geralt to come with her into a small sitting room. They sat down in front of a fireplace that was currently occupied only by a vase with fresh flowers. It was barely just spring, but the warmth of the approaching summer was already in the air.
"Didn't do anything, I swear. Just went to bed and woke up to this mess. But why are you here?"
"I invented a holiday so that at least once a year I would have an excuse to come to Toussaint for a few days. The celebration of the Toussaint-Nilfgaardian friendship." She chuckled. "That was the working title and it never changed."
Geralt smiled. But then he wondered: "Why does it take a holiday? You're Empress now, what's keeping you from coming whenever you please?"
Ciri huffed.
"As long as Emhyr is still here, I'm only Empress in title. He's teaching me in his ways but this holiday is a good excuse to get away from him for a while. Imagine that, he doesn't like it when I visit you."
"Wonder why." Geralt smiled and rolled his eyes. At least this one thing had remained the way it had always been.
"Right? But since this is a mission of diplomacy, strengthening bonds and…" she waived her hand. "He cannot argue against it. I've gotten pretty good at playing his game." She paused. "But, if I'm honest, that's not the whole reason. You probably don't remember this now, but back then we hadn't seen each other for a few years. I was travelling between worlds, trying to learn how I could improve ours. I was lucky to get back just in time for your wedding. Imagine that, you tell me you are getting married and I have missed so much of your life that I had just assumed that it was Yennefer who you were going to marry. And that's when I swore I'd never go such a long time without seeing you again. So I invented a holiday that would allow me to see you at least once a year." There, in her smile and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, he could still see the snotty child from back then.
At her words Geralt felt a warmth in his heart. Missed years or not, he was thrilled to hear that being in his life meant so much to her that she would go to such lengths just to make sure they had the time they needed. Those were strange standards to judge a person by but it was all he had at the moment.
His thoughts circled back to what she had said before.
"To be honest, I'm not quite sure why I didn't marry Yen. I always thought it was her or no one. And no one had always seemed the more likely choice."
Ciri hesitated.
"We all thought that. And you tried, you and Yennefer, again and again. You always ended up making each other miserable. I love you both but frankly, I'm glad it's over. I'd rather see you two apart and happy than be together, fight and break up constantly. You're both good now."
"Am I?" Geralt wondered. He tried to remember Kit's face but it was quickly displaced by an image of Yennefer. Was she with someone else now? He could not bring himself to ask the question.
Instead he said: "Don't understand why or how. Kit seems nice but… she's not her."
Ciri shrugged.
"I could try to tell you. But you wouldn't believe me anyway until you have confirmed it for yourself." She smiled, knowing that she was right.
Geralt found the idea unbearable to suddenly have to share his life with a stranger. On the other hand, he had spent no time getting to know her. If Eskel, Ciri and even Roach liked her, surely it meant something. But none of that changed the fact that Kit was just a stranger.
"How's being an Empress working out for you?" he asked, trying to change the subject away from the mess that still seemed to give him a headache.
"Though shit." Ciri laughed. "You'll like that: After the war we made an effort to rebuild everything in the north that had been destroyed." Geralt remembered the devastated villages of Velen he had visited during his search for Ciri as if it had been just yesterday. He laughed to himself when he realized that at least for him it had been just yesterday. The thought of the corpses, strung up on trees, turned his mood somber. So many dead, so much grief. He had hated wading through these godforsaken villages, where the peoples' misery crept up on him, pulled him in like quicksand, and there was nothing he could do about it. The stench of the dead and the desolation was something he thought he would never be able to forget.
Unaware of Geralt's reminiscing, Ciri continued: "We established battlefield and burial hygiene."
"What now?" Geralt asked confused, wondering if he had maybe missed a part of the conversation.
"New laws. No more public display of the dead. Corpses have to be burned immediately or buried 6 feet deep. Guess what happened?"
"People found other things to decorate their hanging trees with?"
"True. But within just a few years we eliminated most of the ghouls, alghouls and other necrophages. No more corpses, no more food for them."
Geralt lifted the corner of his mouth into a smile.
"Not sure if I should be proud of you or angry because that'll put me out of work. But I'm glad to hear that Vesemir's lessons weren't for nothing."
"I'm not putting you out of work. This isn't your line of work anymore."
She had said it with a smile but her remark stung. Geralt wanted to retort but then he remembered how Kit had told him that he was now mostly a winemaker and only occasionally a witcher. What has become of my life, he wondered. And suddenly, he did not feel quite at home in his own skin anymore.
To distract himself, he asked the one question that had been bothering him since this morning:
"Why did you choose to follow Emhyr? After everything he did?"
Ciri placed her chin on her folded hands and moved her head from side to side.
"I thought about it for quite a while, you know? I've seen so much of this world, of other worlds and, by comparison, ours has a lot to learn. As a witcher you move from village to village, helping people here and there in urgent matters. But from higher up I thought maybe I could make lasting, structural changes that would be more than just a temporary bandage on a festering wound." She sat herself upright again. "I want us to be better."
Unexpectedly, her answer warmed his heart. Geralt had been so afraid that Ciri had become an Empress because he had left her, had failed and disappointed her. But she had done it for all the right reasons. He felt so very proud in that moment even though he had always wished they would find themselves on the path together eventually.
At the same time it was disconcerting how everyone seemed to know their place and their purpose whereas he was stranded with no idea what to do with himself or who to trust. Ciri had changed so much. There was a calmness in her demeanor, a wisdom in her eyes, that was different from the child he remembered. Everything was already there which meant there was nothing left for him to teach her.
But if he was no longer her teacher, no longer her protector, no longer a witcher, then who was he?
Ciri, who knew him well, better than he knew himself at that moment, reached for his hand.
They talked for hours. Most of the time was spent on bringing Geralt up to date about things in his own life rather than Ciri's. Ciri seemed to enjoy explaining things in ways that painted a constant look of astonishment on Geralt's face.
She tried to question him about what had happened, but soon gave up since it was obvious that he could not remember anything at all.
"So the last thing you remember is that you where at Dandelion's in Novigrad and next thing you know you wake up in Toussaint? Look at it this way: You for once got to experience my powers." That made him chuckle. The Ciri in front of him was sitting straight and composed, legs crossed, hands resting in her lap – a far cry from the ever-fidgeting child that hated sitting still. But he could imagine her coming alive all of a sudden and dashing through the room, through time and space even. There was a spark in her eyes that betrayed her outward calm and hinted at the storm within.
"I'm sure you can figure it out. And even if you can't: We can always make new memories," she added sheepishly, knowing very well that this was a terrible consolation prize, especially considering that she would not be able to help him since her return to Nilfgaard was set for the next day. "But I won't ever try to climb up that mountain again like we did yesterday. The view was not worth it and the troll we accidentally woke stank like a dead pig that had been left to rot in the sun for days."
Geralt's head was buzzing when he left her chambers to give her time to prepare herself for the evening's festivities. To see the beautiful, capable woman Ciri had become was more than he could have ever wished for. But it was all tinged with a hint of sadness. This was a journey he had always hoped they could have made together. And now he felt as if he had abandoned her, because it was he who had forced this life on her, but had not been there for her. No amount of assurances from Ciri that he had been there for all of it would convince him otherwise. She told him of the things they had done together, how they had fought the wild hunt and saved this world from the cold. But words were not enough.
Caught up in his own thoughts and guilt, Geralt was under the impression that he was alone when he opened the door to his bedchamber. Only when he noticed a red flutter on the balcony out of the corner of his eye, did he realize that he was wrong. It was Kit, watching over the city, her hands resting on the balustrade. The skirts of her red dress moved in the soft breeze. The sun was beginning to set, lending the scene a mesmerizing glow. He had no idea that a dress could be so light that it could dance on its own. It moved like a flame around the motionless, unburned woman. The light penetrated the fine, lightweight fabric of her skirt, transforming her into some sort of unearthly figure. He half expected her to dissolve into a gust of wind.
She must have heard him because she looked over her shoulder and said: "You should get dressed. It won't be long now." She turned her gaze back to the city as if to give him some privacy.
Geralt, who was not particularly pettish, undressed on the spot and put on what had been laid out for him.
He had been determined to be annoyed and hate the restrictive, elaborate garments. But alas, he could move his arms freely and without threatening to tear any seams. The collar of the waistcoat, pale grey silk, embroidered with blue floral patterns, did not cut into his neck. And the dark blue pants were just tight enough to fit but not too tight to restrict any of his movements.
He hummed. He was annoyed at the fact that he had no reason to be annoyed. Another constant of his life had been taken away from him. Was there no aspect that had remained unchanged? He yearned for some familiarity. He would take anything and for an instant wished that his clothes fit terribly just so that he could hold onto something he was accustomed to.
"What is it? Are you not pleased, my lord?" Kit teased him, the soft smile on her lips at odds with her serious tone.
"Just… surprised."
"Your enthusiasm is killing me. Like it or not, I know your body better than anyone. I know how you move. I know what you need and what you hate."
She gave him a lopsided grin and came closer to tuck on the coat to set it straight.
"I've always liked how the blue complements your eyes," she said before she stepped back, apparently content with her adjustments.
She clasped her hands behind her back. Geralt admired her shoulders in that strapless dress, the small waist. He imagined holding her, running his hands along her sides, feeling her curves under his fingers. Yes, he could see how they would have ended up in situations that resulted in her being overly familiar with his body.
"You made this?" he finally realized.
She nodded.
His gaze had lingered a moment too long. Kit smiled and twirled for him. Her dress flared and made her look like a flame.
"You look beautiful," Geralt finally said and he meant it, even though the way he had grunted it might not have made him seem quite so sincere. It was a beautiful dress on a beautiful woman, he could admit that. He liked the way it flowed. It seemed so much less constricting and heavy than what he was used to seeing. A bit odd perhaps, just like the woman who wore it. Why he thought she was odd, he did not know. If she had really married him, then, perhaps, she just ought to be.
Kit's eyes lit up at the compliment.
"This dress was the first gift you ever gave me." She told him how back in the day, shortly after she had arrived in Toussaint, he had invited her to the wine festival to help her take her mind off things.
"I did?" he asked. Take her mind off what things exactly, he wondered silently.
She walked past him and sat down at the end of the bed to put on her shoes.
"I hope talking to Ciri put you at ease?"
He did not respond immediately, he was too occupied studying the movements of her delicate fingers as she put on the first shoe – red, just like her dress.
"Yes," he finally managed to say.
"It was strange, wasn't it? Seeing her like that must have been… I'm not even sure. Confusing?" When Geralt did not answer immediately she added: "Since she is an adult now. A political figure even."
He nodded. It seemed to be the easiest thing to do. He did not want to question how she knew exactly what it was that threw him off when he first saw her.
Then he added: "Not much of a surprise. She used to rule over Kaer Morhen back in the day. That should have been a warning sign."
Kit had put on the second shoe and placed her foot accurately next to the other without making a sound on the plush carpet.
"Don't worry about it – you were there for every step of the way. You missed nothing. We just have to find a way to make you remember."
It was, Geralt thought, as if she had read his mind. How else could she know what was bothering him and put it so precisely. It was rather unsettling, but he remained quiet. After all, it was not her fault. And admittedly, he was not exactly a complicated man. If she had been with him for ten years, she would know all there was to know about him.
Geralt asked: "How are you doing?"
The conversation with Ciri had at least partially opened his eyes to the fact that he was not the only one affected by his situation even if it was still hard for him to care about the feelings of the stranger in front of him.
Kit stood up.
"Let's just hope we find a solution quickly. If I can't make you remember me, then maybe I don't even deserve you." Her tone was rather light-hearted which struck Geralt as incredibly odd. He would have thought that if he really meant that much to her, she would have been more upset. But she seemed almost blasé in the way she spoke and recounted details of his life as if she was just a bystander summarizing someone else's life story without being personally affected by it.
Suddenly Geralt thought yet again about the first time he had lost his memory; how certain people had been able to manipulate him in their favor because he simply had not known any better. It occurred to him that he should be cautious to prevent yet another episode of this.
If I can't make you remember, then maybe I don't even deserve you.
But were those the words of a manipulator?
"We should go." Kit had gone to the door without turning around.
The sharp smell of tears hit Geralt again. Not indifferent after all, he realized. But manipulating? That remained to be seen.
On their way to the garden, Kit spoke again:
"I think it would be best if we keep your current condition a secret. I don't think you have any enemies, but I can't help but feel that this entire thing makes you vulnerable. At least to some degree. Certainly in a business sense."
"Do I know any of the people here tonight?"
"Many. Most, actually."
"Don't you think it'll be fairly obvious that something is wrong when they realize that I don't recognize any of them?"
"Leave that to me," Kit said and then she laughed. "This is pretty funny actually. The first time you brought me here, we put on a bit of an act as well. And I dare say we were very convincing. I'm sure we can do it again."
"What did we do?"
"Convinced people that we were a couple."
"But aren't we – technically?"
"We weren't then. But I'm sure it was that evening that convinced me that I needed to be with you." She smiled shyly and her cheeks flushed as her heartbeat increased.
Definitely not indifferent, Geralt realized again. And not nearly as much in control of her outside as Yennefer. Maybe he had a type and it was not what he thought. No raven hair, no violet eyes but women who always kept him at an arm's length and never let him know how they truly felt.
But was she really doing that? His eyes lingered on her face a little too long to still be comfortable and suddenly he saw the absolute adoration in her gaze when she looked at him. It was terribly flattering. Something deep inside him fluttered like a trapped bird.
He offered her his arm and she took it, smiling brightly all of a sudden.
Dear reader,
I admit that I am easily offended. Forget my birthday? Forget that we had a date or an appointment? Vengeance shall be mine! I can be terribly immature and just like an elephant, I never forget and I can hold a grudge for much longer than most people would consider appropriate (*as far as I know elephants have a terrific long-term memory).
I wish Geralt was a bit more like an elephant as well.
Suffice it to say that in the future I will never complain about any of these things again. Because being completely forgotten by the person you love the most is another level of hell. Dante (clearly not an elephant either) must have forgotten to include this 10th circle, but I assure you it is there because I live in it.
When Eskel came to me this morning and told me that Geralt had lost his memory, I did not quite believe him. But when I looked into his eyes and there was no recognition, I felt as if I had lost everything that had ever been dear to me. I try my best to hold my shit together when what I really need is a damn good cry. But the shoulder I usually cry on doesn't recognize me anymore. My shoulder is currently reconnecting with Ciri as I sit here sobbing into my journal.
It has only been a few hours, but I'm so afraid he will never remember. And I am terrified of what Eskel said: That Geralt was a different person back then and that he might just decide that he has had enough and get on a horse and leave.
I am trying very hard to pretend like I don't want to lie in bed, sob to my heart's content, and listen to a compilation of sad love songs courtesy of spotify. Because I think that if I actually, really told him how I felt, showed him this whole universe of tears, he would just run away because he has no patience to deal with it. And by that I mean me.
I have a vague idea of what he did in his past, but not how or who he was then - as a person, I mean. People often tell me that he has started talking considerably more since I came into his life. I may not be the Gilmore Girls, but I admit I wouldn't know how to deal with someone who doesn't talk.
And that is the crux. He is no longer that person. Or not yet?
What if he gets sick of me before he finds any reason to like me and goes back to Yennefer? I fully expect her to portal him right back to me, probably with a bow around his head. But I can't make him stay if he doesn't want to.
So I guess I will have to try not to piss him off too much and hope that either Eskel exaggerated or the problem solves itself. But I know Eskel enough to understand that he would not make untrue claims in a situation like this.
I miss the way Geralt used to look at me, as if I were the greatest thing in the world. I have no idea what he sees in me now and that frightens me beyond words. What on earth happened to him that he woke up without remembering two decades of his life? I usually refrain from asking him what exactly he is up to when he does his occasional witchering, because then I start to worry. Now I regret that, because if I had asked, I might at least have an idea of where to start looking for clues.
I hope that whatever it is does not affect others. Imagine if we all forgot and the whole country fell into chaos. Could I piece together my personality from my journals? What a strange idea.
So what do I do? Try my best not to be too needy (and probably fail – I mean, have you met me?) and try to make him remember. Maybe I can find something to tickle his memory. Wish me luck, I will need it.