Chapter Text
There were less than a dozen people left standing at Kaer Morhen in the aftermath of Voleth Meir - a bard, a sorceress, a lion cub and several (but quite a few less) witchers.
The bard was resting on one of the few intact benches in the great hall, waiting for the pounding in his head to subside and his heartbeat to slow to a normal rate. Even his burned, tortured finger was throbbing again. Jaskier had no idea what to do. He felt lost.
He didn’t know any of the witchers, having only briefly been introduced to them after their hectic arrival. And let’s face it, they weren’t the friendliest bunch. A few minutes ago, when he asked if he could help with anything, he had only received a slight shake of a head from one of them as he had limped towards the front of the great hall – well, not so great, now.
So here he sat. Alone.
Yennefer, Geralt and Ciri were outside on the damnable high bridge that Geralt had chucked a huge basilisk from (which Jaskier had watched from his panicked position under a table). He covertly peered through the open doorway at them now, wondering what they were talking about. He was experienced enough to know that Geralt wouldn’t feel it was safe here for them anymore. Safe for her. His child surprise. The one that had turned his world upside down. He could not believe the ferocity with which Geralt had told Yennefer that Ciri was his. Mine - he had growled at her, holding a sword to her lovely neck. He had heard the intensity in that one word even though he was already walking away. The father and daughter had obviously become extremely close in a short period of time and his protective instincts had been in overdrive.
Jaskier assumed that the mage, despite her seemingly unforgiveable betrayal, would be accompanying Geralt and Ciri, wherever they were off to. Geralt didn’t forgive easily, he knew, but he was not about to refuse her magical services if she could help teach and protect his child.
What Jaskier didn’t know was what all of this meant for him. He had just been reunited with Geralt and frankly did not want to give that up. Didn’t want to give him up. Again. It had been a lonely existence after their parting. His heart had ached at the loss and his soul had stung at the rejection. They had spent so many years together and then, nothing. He could not have been more surprised when Geralt had suddenly materialized to break him out of jail. Regardless of his original intent to harshly spurn the witcher if they ever crossed paths again, it had taken all of three seconds for his resolve to crumble before embracing the white wolf.
So now what?
He saw Yennefer and Ciri stand up and brush the dirt off their backsides. Ciri and Geralt exchanged a few more words before he pulled her into a warm embrace. Jaskier watched as Geralt placed a kiss on the top of Ciri’s head.
So much for thumbing your nose at destiny, eh Geralt?
When Geralt let her go, they all turned to come inside, the sorceress in the lead. Jaskier’s newly developed friendship with Yennefer – if that is indeed what it was - made him realize how much he had missed sparring with her too. Life was strange indeed, but he was grateful they had reunited.
But would it last?
He watched as Geralt followed the two women, and Jaskier knew he was already planning his next moves. Wherever they were going, he wanted to go with them. He would do whatever was necessary to help protect Geralt’s child surprise, who, based on recent events, was more – so much more – than meets the eye. No wonder it seemed like every faction on this continent was after her.
He watched the three of them move in step, almost as one - already looking like a unit, a team.
A family.
He just didn’t know where he fit in.
******
Vesemir surveyed the damage in the great hall. All the remaining witchers, except Geralt, gathered near him, processing the extraordinary events, grieving their losses, discussing what it all meant, and tending to the wounded as best they could.
There were so many questions running through his mind. How did this happen? How did Voleth Meir escape? Where was she now? Was there something he could have done to fortify her prison to prevent this? How could he have better protected his sons? His home? Their cub?
Once the living were triaged, the dead would need to be tended to. He looked around the vast room and then back to the dead bodies that had been moved to the front of the hall. So many dead. Some here, and some still in their beds where Ciri – NO! – Voleth Meir had murdered them. It was not the girl’s fault. Their little cub, so much a part of their witcher family now, was not to blame for this. He knew the others felt the same.
Vesemir took one more look at the medallion tree, split into pieces lying on the ground. He sighed deeply, suddenly feeling the stiffness in his old knees and every year of his age. So many witchers gone. So few left. His temporary exhilaration at the possibility of creating new witchers with Ciri’s elder blood had vanished. It was not meant to be. He never should have taken the risk. The time of the witchers would come to an end someday. Maybe sooner than he had hoped. All the fallen medallions were scattered on the cold stone floor around him.
They too would need to be collected and given a new resting place.
****
Ciri stared down at the enormous white basilisk lying on the ground far below her. She had been the one who let this monster into Kaer Morhen, along with the others that had brutally killed some of her witcher brothers.
Apparently she had slit some of their throats too, in their beds.
She knew it wasn’t her fault, that she had been possessed. Geralt, Yennefer, Vesemir - hell, even Lambert - had told her it was not her fault. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she was partly to blame. Death followed her everywhere. It didn’t matter what she did. It wasn’t you Ciri, it was Voleth Meir, they had said. She just wasn’t ready to believe them. Didn’t know if she ever would. She was so tired.
So very tired.
But Geralt was right. Life does go on. She took a deep breath, fully aware that Yennefer and Geralt were exchanging concerned glances behind her. It was time to get out of her head and do something constructive. She got up, Yennefer mirroring her actions. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Ciri looked around the keep, the place she now considered her home, knowing that her days here were numbered. The place was a crumbling mess, but she loved it. She had gained a new family here. She looked up at Geralt and couldn’t stop the tears from filling her eyes.
“We’re leaving, aren’t we?” she asked.
Geralt stepped closer to her and spoke in a gentle voice. “In a few days. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”
He was simple and to the point, as usual. Ciri nodded, trying desperately to control herself, but the tears rolled down her cheeks. Geralt took one more step and pulled her into a warm embrace. Ciri put her arms around him, laid her head on his chest and held on tight while she cried.
Yennefer looked on, wondering if Geralt would ever hold her like that again. She had been so stupid. So selfish. She felt so ashamed. At least she had managed to somewhat redeem herself by sacrificing herself for Ciri. Enough at least for Geralt to ask her to teach the girl how to control her chaos. But she knew it would take a long time until he fully trusted her again. If ever. She felt she deserved no less.
Geralt kissed the top of Ciri’s head and pulled back, looking directly into her eyes. “I know I’ve already told you, but none of this was your fault.” Ciri sniffed, wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve, and looked at the ground. Geralt lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye. “None of it, Cirilla. Understand?”
She gave him a slight nod, knowing by now that he only used her full, formal name when he expected her full attention or obedience. She sniffed again, wiping away another tear. “We should go help,” she replied.
“We should,” he agreed.
They immediately approached Jaskier when they arrived in the great hall.
“Are you alright?” Geralt asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Fine, better than most,” he answered, standing up. “Are you all okay?”
A few nods were his response.
“I don’t think you two haven’t been properly introduced,” Yennefer remembered. “Jaskier, this is Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra, also known as Ciri.”
Jaskier bowed his head. “A pleasure to formally meet you, my lady.”
“And Ciri,” Yennefer continued, placing a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, “this is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, also known as Jaskier, the best bard on the continent.”
Jaskier beamed at the unexpected compliment, but waited patiently as Ciri stared at him for a moment. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I think I’ve heard you sing at court in Cintra, is that right?”
“Yes my lady, I used to play there at least once a year, but haven’t been in quite some time.”
Her eyes lit up. “Wait - did you write ‘Toss a Coin’?” she asked, finally making the connection while looking between the bard and Geralt.
“Indeed I did,” he declared with a smile.
Geralt rolled his eyes. While that song had made life a little easier on him and the rest of the witchers, he was afraid Jaskier might break into song. “I need to talk to Vesimir,” he said before quickly striding away.
“Let me heal your burned finger,” Yennefer said, lifting his hand and casting a quick spell while Ciri watched. It reminded her of Triss healing her cheek.
Afterward, Jaskier stretched out his fingers and touched the pads to his thumb. The throbbing had stopped and the burn marks had vanished. He bestowed a glorious smile on her. “Have I told you how very glad I am that you have your magic back?”
“No, you haven’t”.
“Well I truly am.” He glanced at the front of the hall. “And there may be others that could benefit from your talents.”
Yennefer followed his gaze. One witcher was on the floor near two others who were hunched over on a bench. She had healed one man’s chest already, but clearly there were others who needed her. “You’re right. Excuse me.” And off she went.
“I’m sorry I was so rude to you before,” Ciri told Jaskier. She hadn’t exactly been in a friendly mood when Geralt had ordered her to return to Kaer Morhen instead of staying with him.
“Quite alright, princess.”
“Please, call me Ciri.”
Jaskier smiled at her. “Alright then. Ciri. Totally understandable under the circumstances. I hope we can become good friends. Shall we join the others?”
*****
Fringilla was shocked at the king’s announcement. He had a daughter. She glanced at Cahir to see if this was news to him as well. It appeared to be.
More importantly, the fact that he had been the one who ordered the murder of Francesca’s baby had enraged her. Surely he could have decided upon another way to regain his own lost daughter, no matter who she was, without such an unforgiveable sacrifice.
Fury coursed through every vein in her body.
Even before the king announced that she and Cahir were to be taken away, she knew that they were in dire trouble for lying to him. Then, she felt a guard coming towards her. If he had dimeritium handcuffs she knew she must act quickly. There was no opportunity to create a portal with the throngs of people surrounding her.
She grabbed Cahir’s hand and quickly muttered under her breath.
Behold the mother of forests, the Deathless Mother nesting in dreams. Turn your back to the forest, hut, hut. Turn your front to me, hut, hut.
To everyone’s astonishment in the crowded hall, the two of them disappeared.
***
Vesemir watched as Geralt approached. “How is our little cub doing?”
Geralt glanced over his shoulder at Ciri, honestly not sure. How much trauma could one person withstand before they broke? When you tallied up the suffering, losses, and heartbreak the girl had endured over the last few months, it was a wonder she was still standing. He was so proud of how strong she was. But now they could add the Wild Hunt to those who wanted her. Even he felt a little overwhelmed sometimes.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I sense there’s a part of her that still feels she is to blame for all of this.”
“Mmmm,” Vesemir hummed.
Yennefer joined them, addressing Vesemir, “May I tend to the wounded?” Normally she would have started on her own, but felt it was better to ask permission and be respectful under these dire circumstances.
Vesemir nodded. “Of course, with my thanks.”
She moved off towards the rest of the witchers without so much as a glance at Geralt.
“So that’s your sorceress?” Vesemir stated, watching her as she bent down to deal with the most severely injured man first.
“She’s not my sorceress,” Geralt said. Especially not now, after her betrayal, which he hadn’t had a chance to update Vesemir about yet.
Jaskier and Ciri joined them, flanking Geralt. Ciri stared at the dead bodies and broken pieces of the medallion tree and all her doubts flooded back to her. “I’m so sorry.”
Vesemir had decided that the gentle approach was not working. He moved to stand directly in front of Ciri. “Why are you sorry?” he asked in his sternest voice. Before she could reply he added, “Do you think we are too stupid to understand what really happened here?” His eyes were blazing.
Ciri was confused at his unforeseen anger. “I.. I… no…” she stammered.
Geralt shot a warning glance at Vesemir, but the old witcher ignored him and took another step towards the girl. “Do you think we have never before encountered monsters that can take over a human body? Make it do whatever the monster wants?”
Ciri didn’t respond. She was still taken aback by the questions and his harsh manner, which had been Vesemir’s plan exactly. He took one last step forward, so they were practically toe to toe. “Do you think we blame you for this?”
“No!” Ciri quickly cried.
But it was a thoughtless answer, a knee-jerk reaction. Vesemir raised his eyebrows at her and waited. She looked around at the rest of the witchers in the great hall. The men she now thought of as her big brothers. They had called to her when she was trapped in her Cintran dream. Asked her to come home. She looked back at Vesemir. He had told her that he trusted her. It was not only Geralt that had pulled her back.
“No,” she repeated, more calmly now. “I don’t think you blame me.” And she finally felt like she could believe it.
Vesemir placed both hands on her shoulders. “Good. Because you are our witcher cub. Our family.”
Ciri put her arms around his waist and hugged him. Vesemir hugged her back for a few seconds and then pulled away. “Now, cub, we are going to take care of our fallen brothers. It will take a few hours. I want you to get a meal ready for our return. A very large meal. Understand?”
“Yes, I can do that,” she replied, glad for something normal to occupy her time.
Jaskier had been watching their interaction, and Geralt’s reaction to it. People who thought witchers didn’t have emotions were complete and utter idiots. Then Vesemir focused his attention on Jaskier.
“And you bard, you can help the cub in the kitchen.”
“Of course,” Jaskier agreed. Like Ciri, he was only too happy to have something constructive to do. And hopefully spending time together would help them get to know one another. “I’m quite good in the kitchen you know. Spent a lot of time with a rather gregarious head cook of a large country estate in Temeria one spring…”
He stopped abruptly because two pairs of witcher eyes were staring at him.
“A story for another day, perhaps,” he muttered.
Ciri helped him out by taking his hand and leading him off. “Come on, I’ll show you the way to the kitchen.”
****
Yennefer was almost done her ministrations, quite happy with the magical healing on the broken ribs, internal bleeding, and other various injuries. She approached her last patient, a red headed man, and kneeled down to assess his damaged leg.
“So you’re the famous Yennefer we’ve heard so much about,” he said.
It was a comforting thought to know that Geralt had spoken of her, given their current broken relationship. “I am. And you are?”
“Lambert.”
“Nice to meet you Lambert. This should only take a few seconds.” He watched as she painlessly healed his leg. She stood up when she was done. “Any other injuries?”
He stood up to try the leg, which was just like new. He was, of course, used to healing quicker than most, but this was incredible. “No. Thank you.”
She nodded and began to walk away.
“He was right. You are special. And beautiful.”
Yennefer turned back around to look at the man. He had no idea how grateful she was for that statement. Geralt had told them that she was special. Or she used to be. Her throat suddenly constricted and she felt tears welling in her eyes. All she could do was nod her thanks, wondering if Geralt would ever feel that way about her again.
Once she gathered herself, she approached Vesemir. “I’d like to put up some magical wards around the keep to prevent any other unwanted visitors, if that’s alright. If I do it while you’re all inside, then you can come and go as you like.”
“That would be most appreciated, Yennefer,” Vesemir answered.
She nodded and walked away quickly. Again, not a word and barely a glance for Geralt.
Vesemir turned to Geralt. “Ok, son, what’s going on with you two? I thought she was the love of your life?”
He sighed. Deeply. “Not anymore.”
****
Jaskier was perusing the spice shelf as Ciri pulled out flour and other ingredients to make bread and pie shells for the meat and apple pies. She had actually become quite good at this over the past few months, particularly considering she had never set foot in a kitchen in her previous life as a princess. The witcher kitchen surprisingly had a number of recipes written out that were fairly easy to follow.
“These should do,” Jaskier declared, placing several small bottles on the counter. He then patted the huge flank of venison he had removed from the cold cellar while he looked around for a large knife.
“Over there in the top drawer,” Ciri pointed with her flour covered hand.
“Thanks.”
They worked in silence for several minutes, Ciri mixing and rolling out several pie crusts and positioning them in the pie plates, then placing the bread dough in a bowl to rise. Meanwhile, Jaskier carved the venison into bite-sized pieces and sprinkled a variety of spices onto them. Normally he would be chattering endlessly, but he forced himself not to. He knew he could be quite “a lot” to take sometimes and didn’t want to scare her off. She had already been through so much. When he was satisfied with the meat, he went back to the pantry, returning with an armful of vegetables, which he dumped into the sink to rinse.
“So, you travelled with Geralt?” Ciri asked a few moments later, while trimming the pie shells.
“Yes, for several years,” he replied, pulling the washed vegetables out of the sink and onto the counter.
“What was it like?” she asked, without taking her attention off her chore.
Jaskier glanced at her before starting to cut up the onions and carrots. Travelling with Geralt had been so many things. Had meant so much to him.
“Let’s see,” he started. “It was exhilarating, exciting, scary, entertaining, frustrating, amazing, fulfilling, terrifying … you get the picture.”
She did. Geralt had a lot of complex layers under that steely exterior.
“I was actually with him the night he claimed the Law of Surprise. I invited him to come to your mother’s betrothal ceremony.”
Ciri stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “You were?”
“I was.”
“Can you explain what my mother did that night?”
Now he was getting nervous, not wanting to overstep. He sprinkled some salt and pepper over the cut vegetables and mixed them together with the meat before glancing over at her. “Geralt didn’t tell you?”
“Just that she practically destroyed the room. A few details would be helpful, and appreciated.”
Jaskier smiled at her. “Ah yes, Geralt is always quite stingy when it comes to the details.”
So as he scooped the meat filling into the pie shells, he told her.
****
They were almost to the cave, with Vesemir and Geralt leading the group. Two horses pulled a cart of dead witchers behind them, Coen holding their reins. Lambert and the other witchers followed the cart. Geralt had spent the time catching Vesemir up on the events at the temple, Yennefer’s betrayal, and the encounter in the strange land with the Wild Hunt. Afterwards, they walked in silence for a while.
“I have never had to return here this quickly before,” Vesemir suddenly stated.
“I’m sorry,” Gerald replied, which earned him a sideways look from the older witcher.
“Am I going to have to speak to you like I spoke to Ciri?” he asked. “You know I don’t blame you for any of this.”
He couldn’t help feeling like he was to blame. Like father, like daughter. Perhaps bringing her here to his home had not been the best idea. Maybe they should have found another place to hide out for the winter.
“Stop it,” Vesemir commanded. “Now.”
Geralt sighed. Vesemir always could read his mind. And he was right. He’s the one who said life goes on and there was no going back now. And deep down, he was glad they had come here. He was thankful for his brothers’ company and their assistance in training Ciri. For giving her a home and family when she had none. He was especially thankful for Vesemir’s wisdom and guidance.
“Thank you for what you did for Ciri back there.”
“A firmer approach was needed. Just like with you and the others when you were her age.”
Geralt smiled. “We were a handful. I’m not sure how you managed us on your own.”
“Ciri is more of a handful all by herself than the whole lot of you put together. I don’t envy you, wolf. She is extraordinary. But she is definitely much more than you bargained for.”
Geralt sighed. “That she is, Vesemir.” He looked up – he had been so ingrained in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized they had arrived at the cave.
“But she is worth it.”
****
Yennefer travelled back to the great hall, feeling better now that the property was secured. She had always been good at wards and made these ones as strong as possible. That fire-fucker was not going to be able to portal here anytime soon. Or anyone else, for that matter. She was a little surprised to find the great hall empty upon her arrival. She knew where the witchers were, as she had seen them as they left the keep with their dead. But she wondered where Ciri and Jaskier had gone. She surveyed the damage to the room. Now that she had her chaos back, she may as well put it to good use.
An hour later the medallion tree was reassembled back into one piece and securely erected in its usual place, the broken tables and benches were mended, the fire pit was crackling and everything was cleaned up. The black shards from the monolith had been magically swept into a large bin in the corner of the room and the blood stains had been removed. She had levitated the two dead basilisks out the door and dropped them off the bridge to land next to the other one. The witchers could deal with them from there. Judging from the laboratory, she thought they may want to study them closer. Or they could just set them on fire for that matter. She carefully gathered all the witcher medallions and laid them out on one of the restored tables, looking at the various animals that were represented. She knew one day Geralt’s wolf would join them and her heart broke at the thought. She heard a noise coming from the hallway and recognized Ciri and Jaskier’s voices.
The two of them entered the great hall and froze, hardly believing the transformation.
“Did you do all this?” Ciri asked.
“Yes, where have you two been?”
“Slaving away in the kitchen,” Jaskier replied as Yennefer approached them. “Seriously, Yennefer, this looks amazing.”
“You know I could have conjured up some food, right?” she asked with a smile.
Ciri and Jaskier looked at one another and the expressions on their faces almost made Yennefer burst out laughing. “No matter,” she added. “Real food is always better. But if there’s anything else you’d like?”
“Honestly, right now I could use a drink. A nice strong whiskey would really hit the spot.”
Yennefer closed her eyes and uttered a spell. The whiskey and two other glasses appeared on the nearest table.
“Did I tell you how glad I am that you have your magic back?” Jaskier asked, picking up the glass and taking a swallow. “Oh Gods, this is delectable.”
Ciri wandered closer to the table and picked up a glass with pink liquid in it. “Is this for me?”
“Yes, it’s lemonade mixed with raspberries and gooseberries. My own concoction.”
Ciri took a sip and smiled. “It’s delicious, thank you.” She walked away to investigate the newly restored hall, glass in hand, finally stopping at the table with the medallions. They had been difficult to view properly while hanging, so it was nice to get a closer look.
Meanwhile, Jaskier and Yennefer remained seated, having a whispered conversation.
“How is she doing?” Yennefer asked, surreptitiously watching the girl as she moved around the room.
“She seems better. But she asked me about the powers that Pavetta demonstrated on the night of her betrothal feast.”
Yennefer looked astonished. “Geralt hadn’t told her?”
“Well he had, in his own way.” Jaskier rolled his eyes.
Yennefer snorted. “So barely at all, then.”
Jaskier became serious. “Have you any idea what his plans are?”
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Jaskier was afraid of being left behind. Frankly, she wanted him to come along too. Having another buffer between her and Geralt would help ease the tension for everyone. But it wasn’t her decision to make and she didn’t feel like she was in any position to state her wishes.
“He wants me to help train her to use her chaos. He doesn’t feel it’s safe for her here, but I’ve no idea where he intends to go, or when exactly.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jaskier replied. So, still no idea if he was to be included. He was about to ask Yennefer directly but Ciri approached the table. Instead he blurted out, “We should probably go check on the food.”
“I was just thinking the same,” Ciri agreed, not wanting to burn the bread.
“I’ll come too, I can help you bring it up here,” Yennefer offered.
****
“Where the hell are we?” Cahir bellowed, looking around at the tall trees, mossy ground, and a strange hut in the distance.
“We’re not in the dungeons of Cintra and no one can trace where we are,” Fringilla answered, annoyed at his tone. “So you’re welcome.”
Cahir gathered himself. He was still in a state of disbelief after the confession of the White Flame. Why hadn’t he told him that he had a daughter? Why hadn’t he claimed her without going to war and losing thousands of lives, including innocent children. He didn’t understand any of it. Worse than all of that, he had sent an assassin to murder an innocent baby and enrage the elves, which felt very much like the straw that broke the camel’s back. He could no longer swear loyalty to such a man. He just wasn’t sure what to do now. He looked at Fringilla. At least he was free to make a choice and not rotting in another cell.
“I am grateful,” Cahir told her. He looked around again and at the hut, which Fringilla was quickly moving towards. “Who lives there?”
Fringilla stared at the listless little hut with a large hole torn in the roof. She couldn’t feel even the slightest trace of the Deathless Mother here, although she was still a whisper in the back of her mind.
She stared at the abandoned building. “No one.”
****
The witchers were due to arrive any minute, and the table was laden with food. Yennefer had added a twenty pound baked ham, and platters of cheeses and fruits to the meal. Several jugs of water, mead, and whiskey were distributed along the table. It looked just as good as any courtly feast.
Soon several voices and heavy footsteps approached the hall. Ciri, Jaskier and Yennefer grinned at one another as they waited in anticipation to see the witchers’ faces as they came through the door. And the witchers did not disappoint. They were clearly gob smacked at the appearance of the hall. It was like night and day from when they left two hours ago. They all looked around in complete silence for a few moments, before everyone started talking at once. Geralt looked straight at Yennefer, knowing this was mostly her doing. He gave her a slight nod of thanks, which she returned. It was small, but something.
Several men quickly sat down at the table, as no one had eaten since last night and they were starving. “This looks amazing!” Lambert declared.
“I’m starving, let’s eat!” Coen exclaimed, joining him.
Vesemir approached Yennefer, Ciri and Jaskier. He scanned the table and then stared at the medallion tree with awe. “Thanks to all of you.” Then to Yennefer he added, “Especially to you. For this.”
“The medallions are over there for you to put back up. I thought you’d want to do it,” she replied.
“That was very kind of you,” he said, surprisingly pulling her into a brief, totally unexpected hug.
“I was glad to help,” she told him after he released her. They sat down at the table together.
Geralt approached Ciri and Jaskier. “Looks like you two kept busy and stayed out of trouble,” he said.
“Of course we did,” Jaskier replied before winking at Ciri and sitting down across from Lambert.
By this point only Geralt and Ciri were left standing. “Are you alright?” Geralt asked.
“I’m fine.”
He lowered his head and raised his eyebrows at her. She thought he must have learned the move from Vesemir. Nonetheless, it was very effective.
“Honestly Geralt, I’m feeling much better. And I’m very, very, hungry.”
*****
The afternoon passed quickly, the hours filled with the usual chores. Ciri even managed to get in some training with Coen and Lambert while Yennefer toured the keep with Vesemir to select a room. In the process, she replaced broken windows, improved the mattresses, and fixed holes in the walls of the main living areas. Geralt and the others had gone to feed livestock and do various other chores. A lighter supper was provided and people came and went as they pleased.
In the early evening Geralt, Jaskier, Ciri and Yennefer were comfortably seated around the fireplace in the library. Yennefer had conjured up some hot rum toddies and a hot chocolate for Ciri. The other witchers were drinking and enjoying a game of gwent in the great hall while Vesemir added the fallen medallions to the tree. Geralt knew it would be a therapeutic exercise for him.
As Ciri was now aware that Jaskier and Geralt had travelled together, the time was mostly filled with (slightly watered down) stories from Jaskier about his time on the road with Geralt. Yennefer was secretly delighted as she hadn’t heard most of them either. And the bard did know how to tell an entertaining story. It helped mask the ache of knowing that Geralt had not forgiven her and possibly never would. Normally he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of her - like at the temple - but he had barely offered her a glance.
“It’s too bad you don’t have your lute,” Ciri said suddenly, snuggling down into her large chair with a yawn, “you could play us a song.”
“Alas, it was destroyed in my journeys,” Jaskier replied sadly. He really did miss the instrument that was his constant companion. His fingers, newly healed, were itching to strum and he was somewhat lost without it.
“I could conjure one up if you like?” Yennefer offered.
Jaskier sat forward in his chair. “Really? That would be - ” He was a little overwhelmed at her kindness. “I would like that very much.”
A moment later a beautiful new lute materialized in his hands. Jaskier looked down at it in awe. It was the most beautiful instrument he had ever seen, finely crafted and a deep golden color. He strummed it gently as he gave Yennefer a thankful smile. It sounded perfect. “Have I told you how glad I am that you have your magic back?”
“As a matter of fact, you have. And you are most welcome,” she replied happily.
After a few tunes Geralt noticed Ciri continuing to yawn and slump in the chair. Even though it wasn’t late, he himself was mentally exhausted from the very long day. They had all been up half the previous night. He waited until Jaskier finished his song before speaking.
“Ciri, time for you to go to bed.”
“It’s early,” she protested, unsuccessfully trying to stifle another yawn. “And besides, we haven’t talked about our plans. Where are we going? When are we leaving?”
“That can wait until tomorrow,” he told her.
“But…”
“Cirilla.”
She sighed. There was no arguing with him when he used her full name in that tone of voice. She already knew this battle was lost. “Fine,” she said, getting up. “Good night, everyone.”
“I’m exhausted, so I think I’ll turn in too,” Yennefer said, wanting to give Jaskier a chance to speak to Geralt alone. Then she turned to Ciri. “May I walk with you?”
“Of course.” Ciri had already forgiven Yennefer for her betrayal. Yennefer had chosen to sacrifice herself to save her life and had restored the home she loved. She had too few people left in her life, knew she needed Yennefer’s help controlling her chaos, and realized she was more than worthy of forgiveness. She just hoped Geralt would eventually feel the same. She had a feeling those two belonged together and certainly didn’t want to do anything that would stand in the way of them reuniting.
After they were gone, Geralt and Jaskier sat quietly staring at the fire. This was the first opportunity for Jaskier to find out about Geralt’s plans. Yet, he was afraid to ask, unsure if he could bear another dismissal.
Thankfully, Geralt spoke up first. “I hope you will come with us when we leave.” His eyes remained on the fire.
Jaskier’s heart soared. Of course he would go. How could Geralt doubt it for a moment? But after being harshly rejected once, he needed to make sure. “Only if you really want me to.”
Now Geralt looked at Jaskier, the fire reflecting in his eyes. He had been an idiot to push Jaskier away and blame him for what happened on the mountain. Jaskier had been nothing but a friend. His best friend at that, he finally realized. And the fire-fucker had already tracked him down once and tortured him. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Jaskier again because of him, or not knowing where he was or if he was safe. He definitely needed to be part of their ‘family’, to provide some lighthearted balance at the very least. Perhaps it was time to let Jaskier know he felt. He deserved that much.
“Of course I want you to come. And I really am sorry for treating you so badly before. On the mountain. You were a convenient target for my misdirected anger. It was wrong of me to treat my best friend so badly.”
Jaskier stared at Geralt for a moment. “Best - best friend?”
Geralt looked directly into Jaskier’s eyes, hoping the term had sufficiently summed up how he felt about the bard. “Yes. Always.”
Jaskier took a deep breath to try to keep his emotions in check. He never, ever, thought he would hear those words. He smiled and nodded at Geralt. “Then yes, it would be my honor to join you and the ladies.”
Geralt nodded and relaxed back into his chair, a satisfied look on his face.
“Good.”