Chapter Text
“...Geralt lives in a vineyard?” murmured a woman in a disbelieving tone, looking at a merchant who nodded in response.
She was a tall, fair-skinned woman with a scar running down her cheek. Her eyes were green, and her white hair was tied back in a simple style. She wore a red outfit with dark armor layered on top, this was Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, or Ciri for short.
“Yes, the famous White Wolf, the witcher who became a national hero of Toussaint and soon after a royal knight, serving directly under the duchess herself,” declared the merchant cheerfully, with a hint of pride that surprised Ciri. It wasn’t common for her to hear such things said about witchers.
“We’re still talking about the same Geralt?” Ciri asked, still in disbelief.
“Of course we are, the noble knight and witcher, Geralt of Rivia. He currently lives in Corvo Bianco with his lovely wife and children. Seems like he’s retired his blades to take care of his family,” said the merchant, making Ciri freeze for a few seconds.
“What?”
“...So, the buckthorn has a very strong smell when it's taken out of the water,” murmured a girl sitting against the trunk of a tree.
She was a small, fair-skinned girl, with white hair and witcher-like eyes. She wore a simple white and pink dress and held a book in her hands.
Suddenly, the book was snatched away, making the girl cry out in indignation before standing up and facing a pair of eyes identical to her own.
In front of her stood a boy the same age as her, with the same skin tone, a few freckles on his face, and short red hair. He wore a blue shirt with a black vest over it, blue trousers of the same shade, and black boots.
“Vesemir, give me my book back right now!” exclaimed the girl, irritated with the boy named Vesemir, who flipped through the book before looking at her.
“I thought mom told you to go outside and have some fun, Lyanna,” Vesemir remarked as he closed the book.
“...I am having fun…” the girl muttered, looking away.
“By burying your nose in a book and studying herbs? Really fun,” the boy mocked, making Lyanna glare at him.
“Let’s go play, Lyanna, look around,” Vesemir declared, gesturing to the entire vineyard of Corvo Bianco. “We have a big house, I’m sure we can find something fun to do. I know! Let’s play…”
“I’m not playing witcher saves the princess again.” Lyanna refused, crossing her arms, causing Vesemir to turn to her, visibly annoyed.
“Okay, if you don’t want to play that, how about…” Once again, Lyanna cut him off.
“I also refuse to play the witcher in the tournament, or the witcher vs. the vampire, or the witcher hunts monsters, or the witcher…” Vesemir looked more irritated with each rejection until he finally shouted in frustration, making his sister burst out laughing.
Most of those games were her brother’s favorites, and while she always found it a bit strange to reenact their father’s adventures, she still liked them. After all, they were his adventures. But Lyanna preferred when Uncle Dandelion, her mom, or even her father told those stories.
She loved her father, but recreating his deeds just felt… odd.
“Fine! Want to play tag instead?” Vesemir asked with a growl, and Lyanna looked at him before smiling.
“Sure.” With that, Lyanna tapped her brother, lightly pushing him back before running. “You’re it!”
“Hey! That’s not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Vesemir complained, chasing after his sister.
(Meanwhile this.)
Shani sighed as she watched her children seemingly playing, just after Vesemir had snatched the book from Lyanna. On one hand, Shani adored the fact that her daughter was so studious and passionate about reading, but she still believed Lyanna needed to loosen up and enjoy nature more… while her son presented the opposite situation.
“Your children are certainly adorable,” commented a woman beside her with a small laugh.
The two of them sat at a pair of tables with a tea set between them, a sort of tradition they’d kept since Geralt introduced them. Lady Vivienne de Launfal, wife of the noble knight Guillaume de Launfal, was a dear friend, perhaps even Shani’s closest friend, in Toussaint.
Vivienne had once been a noblewoman of the ducal court cursed to turn into a bird, until Geralt freed her by transferring the curse to Guillaume. But through the true love they felt for one another, the curse’s effects were ultimately nullified. Ever since Shani and Geralt’s wedding, Guillaume and Vivienne would often visit, usually bringing along their daughter, who had quite the charm over Vesemir.
“Yes, they’re certainly wonderful. But sometimes I wish Vesemir were calmer… or Lyanna a bit more energetic,” Shani said with a sigh, making Vivienne nod.
“I know how you feel. I often wish Selene were more dedicated to her studies. Do you know how many romance books I’ve had to confiscate just to get her to focus?” Vivienne joked, prompting a chuckle from Shani.
“Oh yes, I’ve had to do the same with Vesemir, but with his wooden swords.” Shani recalled fondly.
“Young Vesemir will certainly make a fine knight one day, don’t you think?” Vivienne smiled, sipping her tea.
“You mean when he becomes a knight and asks for Selene’s hand at the end of a tournament?” Shani teased, causing Vivienne to laugh aloud.
It was well known between the two families that, even at their young age, Vesemir and Selene were sweet on each other and would likely end up together someday. It was quite endearing when the two went on one of their “dates” around Corvo Bianco or the castle, a rather well-known rumor and one both families encouraged.
“Yes. It’s a shame she got sick and couldn’t come this time… but we’ll definitely have to set another day to make up for it,” Vivienne added, and Shani nodded.
“Of course.”
At that moment, Barnabas approached the two women and gave them a slight bow.
“Lady Shani, I believe I must inform you that an unexpected visitor has arrived, asking to speak with Master Geralt,” Barnabas announced, making Shani exchange a confused look with Vivienne before turning back to him.
“Geralt is still with Guillaume. I believe they went fishing. They shouldn’t return until nightfall,” Shani explained, then widened her eyes as she looked past Barnabas, who also turned to see Ciri standing there, hands on her hips.
“Well, that’s something I never thought I’d hear, Geralt fishing. Looks like things have changed more than I imagined,” Ciri said as both women stared at her.
“Ciri? You’re alive? But Geralt told me… Does he know?” Shani asked in disbelief.
“He’ll find out as soon as he gets back from fishing… and it’s weirder to say that out loud than I expected,” Ciri muttered with a slight frown, not seeming upset by her words, just confused, before stepping forward.
“I see… So you’ve become a witcher now? Like Geralt,” Shani said, unable to help but glance at the swords on the girl’s back, then looked at Barnabas. “Barnabas, please prepare the guest room, Geralt’s eldest daughter has returned.”
Ciri’s eyes widened at those words, and she was about to object when Barnabas left to fulfill his orders.
“...You didn’t have to do that, I could…”
“Stay with us whenever you’re in Toussaint? Sounds like a great idea,” Shani said with a smile, causing Ciri to stare in surprise.
“But…”
“Ciri, you’re Geralt’s daughter, just like Vesemir and Lyanna. So make yourself at home,” Shani assured her.
Ciri closed her mouth, then let out a small laugh and nodded.
“All right… but I’m mostly here on business.”
“I figured. The path of a witcher always seems to find its way back to you,” Shani replied with a knowing nod.
"Even after facing countless evils in the world, and even the Wild Hunt itself, I must say I'm surprised your fishing skills are nowhere near your prowess with a sword, Geralt," laughed a man as he rode, his blond hair blowing in the wind.
"You can’t be the best at everything, unfortunately," Geralt grumbled as the two entered Corvo Bianco, heading toward the stables.
Geralt’s companion chuckled cheerfully before both men finally dismounted, only to notice a new horse they didn’t recognize.
"Looks like you’ve got visitors. Is this a new joint mission for us?" the man asked with a frown, prompting Geralt to furrow his brow.
"No… the horse doesn’t bear any crest or the saddle of one of Toussaint’s retainers. I think we should go in and greet our new guest. But just in case, ready a sword, Guillaume," Geralt said as he glanced toward his home, noting how the nearby servants looked calm, which ruled out any immediate threat.
Guillaume nodded, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword as the two walked toward the house. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Vesemir and Lyanna came running out, dashing toward their father and quickly grabbing his arms, looking up at him with excitement.
“Dad, dad! Why didn’t you tell us our older sister was alive? I would’ve loved to train with her! Can both of you train me later? Please?” Vesemir was practically bouncing with excitement.
“Dad, do we have more siblings we don’t know about? She looks like us. I thought witchers couldn’t have children. How did you have her before?” Lyanna was also excited, though her mind burned more with curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.
“…What? An older sister? That’s impossible, the only person you… Ciri?” Geralt’s words faltered as he saw Ciri smiling at him, leaning against the doorframe.
“It’s good to see you again, Geralt,” Ciri said, waving at him before stepping away from the door.
Geralt gently freed himself from his children’s grip and ran toward the girl, embracing her as they both laughed, spinning together before the witcher set her down and looked at her, smiling.
“Ciri, welcome home,” Geralt said with a warm smile.
Geralt and Ciri walked calmly across a hill before sitting down, leaning against a tree with a view over the entire vineyard.
“And here ends your tour of Corvo Bianco,” Geralt said with a smile to the girl who was his daughter in every way but blood, before turning his gaze once more to the vineyard. “So, what do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Ciri replied with a smile, also gazing over the estate. “I really liked the herb garden. I think I’ll start gathering my ingredients there. And the company is quite pleasant, too.”
Geralt gave a soft snort, chuckling gently at Ciri’s remark before nodding. “They’re intense, each in their own way. Lyanna’s always got her nose buried in books, like a young alchemist in training. Vesemir’s the opposite, never still, always eager to take on the world with a wooden sword in hand. In some ways, he reminds me of you. And Shani…”
He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as it drifted toward the house, where he could see Shani bidding farewell to Guillaume and Vivienne. Noticing that look, Ciri glanced briefly at the woman, Geralt’s wife, and a small smile formed on her lips as Geralt spoke again.
“Shani keeps everything together. Sometimes I wonder if she’s the one who truly saved my life.” Geralt let out a sigh. “After you stepped into the tower and never came back, things were hard. Yennefer and I… weren’t on the best terms after I returned alone. We fought a lot, and eventually, she left. And Triss… went back to Kovir.”
Ciri remained silent for a moment, her eyes following the vines stretching into the horizon.
“Then I was summoned to Toussaint. I uncovered a conspiracy against the duchess, earned a vineyard… and honestly, it felt like too much. I had no idea what to do with this place… until she arrived.” Geralt turned to look at Ciri. “That’s when I realized the White Wolf had paid his dues when it came to adventures.”
Ciri nodded, a thoughtful look on her face before glancing at him. “You seem… at peace. I never thought I’d hear that from you one day.”
Geralt snorted in amusement. “Neither did I. But Toussaint has this strange, almost magical effect. And when you find people who make life worth living…”
At that moment, he looked at her with warmth, the same warmth Ciri remembered seeing directed at Shani, at Vesemir, and Lyanna. “You learn to stop running.”
Ciri let out a soft, almost nostalgic laugh, shaking her head before leaning the back of it against the tree trunk. “I still run. I still fight. I still lose myself on paths that lead nowhere.”
She crossed her arms, thoughtful, while birdsong echoed in the air. “But knowing there’s a fixed place I can return to without explanation… that calms me more than I expected.”
Geralt nodded and, for a moment, said nothing. Then he stood, his knees cracking slightly, and gestured to Barnabas Basil, who was approaching the two carrying a large package in his arms. Ciri looked at it, mildly curious, as Geralt took the package and stepped closer to her, pulling off the cloth to reveal a silver sword.
He drew the sword from its scabbard, held it briefly, then walked over to Ciri and handed it to her with a serene expression.
The sword was unlike any Ciri had seen before. Its polished blade shimmered like liquid silver in the light, etched with almost invisible runes that glimmered in combat. Its crossguard was simple yet elegant, forged from a pale metal engraved with waves and stars, while the grip, wrapped in silvery-white leather and golden threads, ended in a pommel adorned with an opalescent gem that pulsed with a gentle light.
Ciri held it, surprised by the balance and lightness. She turned it in her hands, examining the ornate hilt, the perfectly honed edge and frowned slightly as a faint tingling crept up her fingers. The blade pulsed, glowing gold for a moment before settling.
“This… isn’t just a silver sword.”
“No, it’s not,” Geralt replied, sitting back down beside her. “This blade is unique. Its name is Aerondight . Forged with ancient magic, bound to the honor and judgment of the one who wields it. They say it chooses its bearer, and only serves those with a just heart.”
Geralt paused, staring into his own reflection on the blade before looking at Ciri, who was still admiring the sword with a mix of awe and respect. “It once chose me. And now… I believe it’s ready for a new guardian.”
At that, Ciri looked at him cautiously, still holding the sword.
“You… want me to keep it?”
Geralt nodded, offering her a small smile.
“You know, if you’d returned sooner, I would have given you your own silver sword, a symbol that your training as a witcher was complete. I want you to take this one, use it against monsters, remember what I taught you. Let it be a symbol of everything I tried to be… and everything I hope you’ll continue to be.”
He studied her for a moment, and his voice took on a rare gentleness.
“Ciri, the world still needs someone like you. I’ve… had my time on this path. Now it’s your turn.”
She didn’t answer right away. She just looked at the sword, then at Geralt, then closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the trust he placed in her.
When she opened them, she smiled with genuine warmth.
“Thank you, Geralt. For everything. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect… but I promise I’ll never forget what this means.”
Geralt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a quiet hug.
There, under the shade of the tree, with the golden vineyard stretching before them and the distant echoes of children’s laughter, a father and daughter, in all but blood, sealed a legacy.