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winters-mistress · 4 months

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It all starts so quick, that's perhaps why Geralt is so frustrated with himself that he didn't notice it earlier. He's a witcher, for fuck's sake, he can hear a butterfly's wing from miles away, so why didn't he notice this?

He, Jaskier, Yennefer and Ciri had left the safety of Kaer Morhen after the girl was recovered from her fever and fainting, post Voleth Meir attack. Perhaps he thought she was okay, that she was healed? He hadn't even considered the fragility of a human child when graced with the almighty power that his daughter possessed. In truth, his denial makes the hole in his chest only deeper as he looks at her. He should have noticed sooner, they'd been riding on not-Roach together for days, he should have noticed the warmth of her skin and the haze of her eyes long before she'd fainted into the same arms that used to keep her so tightly bared in when they would ride, eager to keep his daughter safe from that who would harm her.

How hadn't he realised that there were so many dangers that didn't include Mages, Kings, Nilfguaard and the Wild Hunt?

Because his daughter, who was so strong and brave, was laying limply at his side, covered by cloaks and blankets and whatever Yennefer could conjure, her skin deathly pale apart from the two large blotches of red upon her cheeks. She looks so small, a folded blanket underneath her head to make a pillow, buried underneath a mountain of rags in an effort to break the fever that was simultaneously impressive and deeply concerning.

He didn't know what to do. Nilfgaardian soldiers that wishes to take his child? Simple, kill them. Mages? Yennefer can handle them. Kings? Jaskier can charm them as well as any courtesan, but this? Geralt had never felt more helpless than he did now, watching her lay there, large drips of sweat trickling down the sides of her neck. He listens to the wheeze of her breath, comforted by the confirmation that she's still here, still okay. That she's still with him, after all they went through.

The air is cold, because of course it is. It's January, they're in the North, inches of snow burry the four of them in, circled in a camp that Yennefer had cleared when they'd realised that the girl was unwell. Geralt can see the breath in front of his face, leaning back against the tree that mirrors his spine, glancing at his girl once again, before passing a glance at Yennefer and Jask.

The bard is sleeping loudly, snores echoing in the small orb of protection that Yennefer casts every morning. Are they invisible? Do any passers by see themselves, or just an echo of the woods.

Geralt had Axii'd the bard into sleep. He was exhausted, but worried enough to fight it with his worry of the girl he had grown fond of in their brief time in the witcher keep. The white haired witcher is a warrior, born and bread, and has the capability of staying awake for days at a time. The bard, as human as he was, was not, and all it took was a quick cast until the bard snored happily.

Yennefer is a different equation all together. The first few days, post betrayal, Geralt hadn't let ciri out of his sight, too worried that she would be taken away again. It's been almost three weeks, and Geralt still cannot find peace in sleep with Yennefer so close to his child. And now, with Cirilla being as vulnerable as she is, the last thing on Geralt's mind is to take rest. He had never felt a purpose like this, to protect his child with everything within him. The only time he had let her slip to being second in his heart, Yennefer had taken her away and was only stopped causing the girl's death by the girl herself. He would never make that mistake again. Asleep, Yennefer may be. Yes, she may have had a hand in defeating the demon and freeing his girl. But never again will he let his guard down when the sorcerers is so close.

He has too many thoughts of the girl being dragged from his arms, the scent of lilac and gooseberries high in his nose.

No. Geralt decides, clenching his fist, the other hand laying protectively on Cirilla's stomach, feeling it rise and fall. He will never let her be take from him again.

The girl's breathing changes suddenly, shuddering and stuttering like it does when she's trapped within the depths of her own mind, of the horrors she'd endured since the slaughter of her homeland. Her head moves to the side, sounds falling from her throat even in unconsciousness.

Geralt's full attention snaps to her, he shifts foreward to be on his knees next to her, the backs of his fingers sliding down her cheeks, accompanying the tears that fall.

Too hot. Still far too hot.

Her heat can rival his own, and it feels like a fist in his gut.

"Cirilla." his voice is gruff from lack of use, deep and raspy, while her own is choked and throaty, speaking of thirst and congestion. "Cirilla, I am here. Do not be afraid, little one."

Slowly, the girls jerking limbs cease movement, and she settles in her makeshift bed of rags and moss and bark. So much less than what she deserves.

Her breathing changes again, and she looks towards him, eyes still closed.

"Cub?" He asks, licking his lips. "Pup?"

Her breathing is shaky, her heartbeat slightly quicker. And much to his relief, she opens her eyes.

"Ciri," Geralt breathes. Thank Melitele. She's here, she's safe, she's with him still. A hand slides to her cheek, the other laying on her ribs.

Ciri says nothing for a moment, looking around at the dark woodlands, before she looks at him again.

"Gr'alt" she whispers. He smiles, relief flooding through him.

He knows, he should get Yennefer, wake her so she can whisper spells to heal the child, wake Jask so he can sleep without worry or magical influence, but he cannot bring himself to remove himself from her just yet.

"Ciri," he smiles. "Sweet girl, we've been worried."

Ciri says nothing, only shifts to sit up. He helps, a hand supporting her back, the other supporting the weight of her front.

She slumps against him, exhausted from sickness. Her head falls to her neck, and he presses a kiss to her sweaty hair.

"Gr'alt" she whispers again, tilting her face to meet her own.

"I'm here, sweet girl. I'm here." Geralt says, pressing his waterskin to her lips so she may drink the cold water.

Ciri does so with eagerness, although her sips are small, no doubt due to a sore throat.

She slumps against him again when she's done, a hand finding his.

It's a strange impulse he has, to kiss her fingers, but he does it anyway, because it must bring her some sort of comfort, right? People like that sort of thing.

"It's alright, pup. We'll get you feeling better soon" he says, pressing his hand to her brow once again. Too hot and clammy, but he can fix that with willowbark and lavender.

Ciri opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes flutter shut before she can.

"It's okay, Ciri. Just sleep, you must rest." He says, laying her back down in her nest.

Before he can turn to get her another wet rag for her brow, the witcher feels her hand at his wrist. Small, with the start of callouses from the blade training.

He looks at her, earnest.

"Papa." she whispers. "'nk you" she mumbled, before falling into sleep once again, her grip on his wrist going slack.

Now, Geralt's chest feels like it's going to explode for a different reason.

#witcher #post season 2 #sickfic #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #fanfiction #witcherfanfiction #geraltandciri #dadralt #ciri is his baby #geralt is the best dad #worried geralt #geralt and ciri #the witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #fanfic #witcher fanfic

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whumpypepsigal · 10 months

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The Witcher s03e07: “I thought Triss would have healed you,… How are you? Can you walk?”

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essskel · 2 months

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Hexer Dandelion is pretty divorced from his canon character but his big sad eyes and cringe hat have have me bewitched. Also huge kudos for being age accurate 🫶🏼 never have I seen a dandelion that is so obviously an unmarried liberal arts prof

#I needed to see him do the escape scene where he gets shot in the ear akdbjsjdb geralt your middle aged loser is BLEEDING ….#there’s a way hornier version of this post somewhere but don’t even worry about it #dandelion the witcher #jaskier #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #the hexer #double shot

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spielzeugkaiser · 2 years

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[MASTERPOST] [Backstory] - [First] - [Second] - [Third] - [Four] - [Five] - [Six] - [Seven] The kid still has little Roachie! Also big Roach loves the kid too. Instant adoption on her part.

#geraskier lovechild #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher #roach #roach the horse #omegaverse #I feel like the kid comes more after Jaskier when it comes to physical affection #he surely will hug Geralt (after the first weeks/months) without thinking twice about it - not only because he's his dad #but also because Geralt still looks like someone who could use a hug. and also very hug-able #plus the fact that the kid is still very worried

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aceofwhump · 10 months

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The Witcher 3x07

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hanzajesthanza · 11 months

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“what does geralt get from that friendship…”

another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.

the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.

that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.

but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.

I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.

so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.

‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’

this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.

each day is not lived, but endured.

day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.

in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.

without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.

‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’

No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.

because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.

‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’

someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.

and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.

Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.

dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.

while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.

and what else does this friendship save him from?

not only from others, but from himself.

worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.

dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.

and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—

Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!

to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.

'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'

'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'

The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.

'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'

it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?

did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?

by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.

indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.

so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?

an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.

#the witcher books #gerlion #geralt of rivia #dandelion #jaskier #the parallels with ciri’s story makes me so emotional like…#ciri is just geralt but younger and alone. and thus she suffers so immensely #i included ciri’s nightmare because i think that’s how it feels to be alone #you just cry out ‘help! why won’t someone help me?’ and no one answers #and the funny bit is that everyone is like ‘ugh you cannot get RID of dandelion’ like #i think that’s the most comforting and relieving thing about him. he will never leave and abandon geralt.#there is nothing geralt *would* or *could* do to ever push him away #the kind of friendship where you never worry about being too ‘weird’ for them because they straight up dont care if youre weird #honestly idk how more people dont see them like this because i feel like loneliness is so pervasive right now #does everyone else just have this kind of best friend and for that reason take dandelion’s presence for granted #s: i want to be by your side #c: geralt #c: dandelion #excerpt #analysis #like. this is how it is:#the entire world: ‘you’re nothing you’re worthless and you’re inhuman’#dandelion is NOT like ‘omgggg of course you are something 🥺🥺 pwease don’t think badly like that’#no. he’s like ‘the hell? that’s the stupidest thing ive ever heard. why the hell are you even listening to that’#dandelion has a kind of masculine energy that the fandom does not like lmao

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bexism · 11 months

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bard supremecy 😌

#i love geralt too don't worry #jaskier #jaskier edit #the witcher #the witcher spoilers #the witcher edit #fanvids

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aramblingjay · 2 years

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THE WITCHER | Season 1, Episode 4: Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials

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eternally-tired-cryptid · 28 days

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Y'all would not believe the situations I can put ocs in. Rotate them in my brain microwave.

#jasper rambles #the current sleeping fanfic is my witcher oc gwenna getting attacked by bandits and left for dead only to be rescued by her bestie eskel #and then upon the healer saving her life they realize they gotta head up to kaer morhen Now before the ppath gets too risky w the weather #and gwenna can't reasonably get up. luckily guess who just arrived on their way to kaer morhen? lambert and aiden. eskel is distrustful but #gwenna is like “so THIS is Lambert's cat” and lambert is fake grumpy abt it and then they all bond getting up the mountain and despite lambe #rts grumbling hes prolly abt as worried as eskel abt gwennas wellbeing bc unfortunately hes grown to see this woman as family over the last #decade plus of her wintering with them. aiden and gwenna bond so easily and trade stories and such. they get up the mountain and lambert and #aiden get a moment to breathe before vesemirs intereogation bc he can tell gwenna is injured. she brushes it off by telling him he can give #her a full check up AFTER theyre all settled in. by this point vesemir keeps supplies that are more specifically for helping humans on hand #thanks to her first ever winter w them in which she broke her leg. i just. love them so much <3 #no clue where it falls on any sort of canon timeline. books or show. but 🤷#i think itd be cute if gwenna is there the winter geralt brings ciri up for the first time

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geraskierfanficprompts · 21 days

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Prompt 33

Geralt is a siren who lives with his pod in the deepest trenches of the ocean. Geralt and his pod frequently team up together to take down large seabeasts, protecting their oceans, other seafolk, and even the landfolk from certain monstrosities. Jaskier is a merman who lounges luxuriously in coral reefs and plays pretty relaxing music there all day every day. Both are crushed with a crippling loneliness.

Geralt's hunts that bring him closer to the surface of the water, (and by closer, I still mean deep as hell, he's just no longer surrounded by healthy non-blobby blobfish and photophores everywhere) He tends to hear the humming and chittering of a mer. The sound relaxes him so much, he begins swimming out of the deepest depths after certain battles to find the soothing noise. You can use just this if you prefer shorter prompts, OR, if you'll indulge my gay fantasies- One day, he swims over toward the reef only to hear panicked screeching, and scent blood in the water. He nYOOoms over and finds a mer being attacked by a monster. Geralt fights it off, either with swords or maybe perhaps just his claws and teeth if we're feeling ~✨feral✨~ Either way, he defeats the beast, and turns to the mer, only for the mer to pass out right then and there. Damn him. Geralt takes him to a nice cove nearby and begins patching him up. When the mer wakes up, he's all hissy and scared, but Geralt calms him quickly by humming one of his melodies. And apparently doing this flips a fuckin switch, because the Mer suddenly goes from being scared shitless of Geralt, to being scared shitless when not touching Geralt every second of every minute of every hour of every godsdamn day. It's already been a few days, he has to tell his pod why he's gone missing, but every time he goes to leave, the mer hisses at him. Eventually, Geralt grows tired of the worry he must be giving his family, and swims out of the cave, even as the Mer screeches at him. He informs his pod he's alive and well and just... b u s y... with.... t hi n g s... before he swims back to the cove only to find his mer BAWLING. The mer is ecstatic that he's returned and seems to forgive Geralt after a day of snuggling. Okay, new problem: The merman isn't healed enough to go back into the open ocean and yet keeps slipping out when Geralt is asleep only to return with shells, sea glass, moss, sometimes even anemones that are deemed prettier than others. It takes Geralt longer than he'd like to admit to figure out the merman is trying to court him.

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winters-mistress · 4 months

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Cirilla's broken heart.

It's Geralt of all people who breaks the silence between them. Ironic, really, that the man of so few words finds them when nobody else can. After all this time, after everything that happened, it falls to him to speak, to comfort, do to something, when nobody else knows how.

Everard! Gwain! Wake up!

His daughter and his brothers had told him she had yelled, throwing the witch's blade as the two witchers shoot up in their beds. His girl, his strong, beautiful, brave girl, had had a few precious moments of lucidity in the midst of her docility, and with it, she had saved them, imprisoning the demon in her mind.

The time between Yennefer's betrayal and the hard, frantic ride to Kaer Morhen do not make sense to the witcher. From the moment he holds his sword to her throat to that where he pushes her off him as he seeks out his girl, time doesn't add up. That's why he's tried so hard to fill in the blanks, why he asked the two of them, and his father, what had occurred in their perspective. They could handle it, they were strong, and his daughter had made sure they had survived the battle, but coming to his daughter to ask what had happened to her was something he wanted to avoid for as long as possible. The last thing Geralt ever wants to do is hurt Ciri.

"Asking how you are is a stupid question," Geralt begins. He hears his daughter inhale, but he cannot see her, she's facing away from him. "so, what are you feeling?" He thinks that's the best way to go, honesty and bluntness.

Everard had told him the ivory-hilted blade had sat in the wall with a satisfying clunk as Ciri had yelled at them to get back, get to Vesemir, get help, before the demon had taken her again, her face falling slack before falling sly, emerald eyes glowing a horrific shade of neon.

His girl, his brave girl, had fought the demon, and she had won, but it had came at a cost. She's only just recovered enough strength from her fainting and vomiting spells she'd had once they returned from the mysterious sphere. She's not strong enough to walk the keep, so she doesn't know about the destruction and the bodies of the basilisks. Geralt hopes they can rid the bodies and scrub the blood and fix the tree and the walls and the tables before his girl is well enough to start her training again. The last thing she needs is more pain.

"I-" Ciri's voice is tired and soft, it doesn't speak of thirst or gritty like she'd swallowed sandpaper. Geralt had heard her speak in many ways, loud and relieved when they'd met in the forest, monotone and untrustworthy before Nivillen, tearful and shaky once they'd left, strong and stubborn when they would train and spar, angry and bitter when Geralt had denied her the mutations. But never like this, defeated and exhausted, it chills him. "I don't know," she pauses, pushing a lock of hair from her face. It's undone and falls in curls and waves, she hardly ever wears it down, it makes her look younger and more like the Princess she is, especially with the clean white linen tunic she wears. "I don't know what to feel, what to say." Now, Cirilla turns towards him, her legs folding up behind her.

"I understand." But he really doesn't, he doesn't understand it all. He so wants to, he wants to take that pain he sees in his daughter's eyes, he wants to hold her against his chest the same way he felt when they reunited in Cintra. Will she smile if he gives her a few of her favourite strawberry jam cookies? Or will a blade do it? Will she allow him to come closer, hold her and protect her from a world that hunts her for reasons neither of them understand?

By the time Vesemir had came to Everard's room, Ciri -was she still? Or would it be more accurate to call her Voleth?- had gone. She was on her way to the medallion tree by then. Was he there then? Going up the mountain, coming into the courtyard?

Trapped within her own mind, Geralt doesn't know what she was forced to see, and it startles him. No, it scares him. His daughter is so strong, so brave, whatever that demon had forced into her mind had hit below the belt. Ciri had survived the Cintran slaughter and weeks on the run, her night with the beast and the vampire, months with unruly witchers and the betrayal of Yennefer, she had survived it, and had never reacted as such.

"How many?" She looks up at him, eyes tired, but set, as if she's resigned herself to a horrible fate.

"What?" He frowns.

"How many did I kill?"

Ah. He supposes she wouldn't know what she did after the last monster was taken down by Coën.

He knows what it is to be resigned here. Just days ago, Geralt had walked cautiously around the keep, thinking that this next turn would be the one where he would find his girl on the ground, used and eliminated due to the demon's influence. Maybe Yennefer would have gotten to her again, lead her by the hand to her death in exchange for chaos.

Geralt's fist clenches. He's so furious with Yennefer. How dare she. How dare she do that to him? To them?

The battle had begun after Voleth had refused his offer of himself as a sacrifice to save his child. Witchers crowded around her, swords at the ready, after Jaskier had ran inside the room and told them about what Yennefer had done, about how her deal with the demon had lead to Ciri being possessed, and of how the girl clearly didn't want to do them any harm, with how she had broken out of her trance and yelled to alert the witchers of the danger.

Thankfully, all the swords were pointed at Voleth, and not Cirilla. He didn't know what he would have done if Ciri hadn't saved his brothers, and the vengeance had been turned upon her instead.

Ciri had had moments of lucidity, where she had managed to push the demon to the back of her mind, enough to ask him to help her, to warn a brother of an incoming attack, or a weakness in the basilisk, but he didn't know what the girl had been through in the moments where her body was not her own. When she herself had been locked inside her own mind like a bluebird in a golden cage, he had been too busy trying to figure out a way to free his girl.

He cringes as he steps forward, watching her neck as she moves her hair. He remembered the sick crunch when she had been forced into submission, when it looked like a black, shadowy hand had grabbed her hair and forced her back. Vesemir and Gwain had heard too, for they took a moment to stop fighting their shared monster to see the source of the noise, before coming back to reality.

"None." Geralt comes back to earth, realising that she was still waiting for an answer, loathe to leave her waiting for words like he had in those first couple weeks on the winter road. "Do you not remember what happened, after Yennefer?"

"No." she whispers, fiddling with her fingers, looking down in shame. "I don't remember much from being on the road until I fell into you." Ciri pauses, licking her lips, looking up. She meets his eyes, and she looks tired. "I only remember parts of the fighting."

"Would you like to know?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, after Yennefer came into the room, she tried to give you a potion, clear the demon from you that way. All the monsters were dead by then, my brothers all coming over to see what she was doing."

"And?"

"It didn't work, clearly." Geralt walks towards her, and takes her weight as he sits beside her, his girl leaning upon his shoulder. He holds her steady, holds her strong, he will be strong so she can be weak, so she can be vulnerable and upset and frightened. Lord knows she must not have had the chance much since the slaughter. "Then she had an idea, cut her wrist and let the demon come to her instead, leave you alone."

"And that didn't work as well."

"No. It was a foolish plan. All that happened was that she fainted from blood loss quite quickly after."

Ciri chuckled humourlessly. "Sorceresses are always self centered like that."

"Indeed. I don't know what you said, what you did, but you whispered something, and then there was a loud noise. Horrid, really, even for a witcher." He nods. "A large, black figure appeared in front of you, it was shadowy, as if it was a ghost. You looked over at the room, yiur eyes were black, like all the other witchers, and suddenly you woke them all up. Even Marek, with his lack of face-" he notes that Ciri winces as if she was struck. "And Timron, with his no legs, Roose and Lukas, you brought them all back. Even Eskel and Remus, several others, too. They just appeared out of thin air, from boots to head. You brought them back."

"What? How? They weren't there." Ciri is surprised.

"You don't tend to obey the laws of the world, sweet girl. The word impossible doesn't seem to hold weight with you."

Ciri chuckles, her eyes filling with tears. She sniffles, burying her face into his shoulder.

He holds her, calms her, runs his fingers through her knotted blonde hair.

"Thank you, little wolf," Geralt says, once she's pulled back. He's lay a hand upon her cheek, comforting her as much as he is cleaning her cheek of tears.

"For what?"

"Bringing my brothers back. Thank you."

"It seems rather undeserved, when you consider I had no idea or no control over it."

"Even still. Thank you."

Ciri closes her eyes, hiding back in his hair.

"Then what happened?"

"You looked back at the shape, and it disappeared. You fainted into my arms. We thought everything was okay when you woke up, because Yennefer was healed, too, and you were free, before all the doors and windows slammed closed. Fires burned out, the lot."

"Yeah, I remember." She settles into his shoulder. "She came back for me, and I portaled us to-" she sighs. "somewhere."

"Yeah," he shuffles. He wishes he could say something to comfort her about the wraiths, what they said to her, but he finds none. "Yennefer's fine, by the way, you healed her when you healed us."

"And her magic, is that back?"

"No." He whispers, "she still knows all her spells, but she tried to light the fires and couldn't. She was upset, but she's not the priority anymore."

"What'll happen to her?"

"I don't think I can let her go with the knowledge she has, about you and about here."

"What?" Ciri pulls back quickly. Geralt's shoulder is cold, he wishes she was still where she was. Her eyes are wide, disbelieving, bright emeralds in a sea of coal. "Are you kidding? You're letting her stay?"

"She told me she helped you make a portal in Nenneke's."

Ciri hung her head. "About what happened there-"

"Shh, it doesn't matter." Geralt soothes, bringing a hand back to her face. "She took you from me, but we are together now."

She sniffles.

"When did you speak?"

"When you were asleep, two days ago."

"And that's that, then? She's staying here?" Ciri sounds nervous.

"To be no more than a tutor to you. I don't trust her, you don't trust her, my brothers don't trust her, but she told me that she helped you with a portal, and that's more than what Triss ever did. I'm told a portal I'd complex magic, too."

"But-" she starts. "You can't-"

He frowns. "What's wrong?"

"You don't understand what happened. When she took me away, we ended up at Goldencheek's house, you remember, the wife that saved me? The husband that saved you?"

He nods.

"Geralt, the fire man-" she swallows thickly. "the fire man got them. Got them all, her, her husband, and the two boys." Cirilla reveals.

Geralt allows himself a moment of grief for four lives so needlessly wasted. For the two boys who were all in all innocent, yes, he knows one of them caused his girl a bit of bother, but children should never die in their parents' war. He grieves for a woman so kind to open her heart to Ciri for no other reason than that she wanted to. And he will grieve for a long while a man who was so generous and honourable that he qiuld save a lowly witcher and put up with his sharpness and hostility just because he felt it was the right thing to do.

"After I found them, Yennefer-" Ciri takes a calming breath, sniffling as more tears come to her eyes. "Yennefer told me they were keeping you hostage in Cintra. Hurting you. Torturing you, because of me." she reveals.

Geralt says nothing, just stares at this child. This sweet, beautiful, vulnerable child who had been betrayed by everybody in her world apart from a sweet farmyard mother and a handful of mutated witchers holed up in a crumbling castle.

By the gods, how could he be so blind? How could he have fallen for Yennefer's charms so easily that she could disarm him and illusion him into thinking she had his child's best interest at heart? Surely it was because Yennefer's one mission since he had known her was motherhood, and now she had an opportunity, she does this?

As he looks at her now, all he feels is rage for the woman. Her deception aches in his bones, the depths of it startling him. He knew she had trapped Ciri and was going to lead her by the hand to the demon, but somehow this -as small of a sin as it was in comparison to that- was worse. Yennefer had messed with Ciri's mind, told her that he was in danger because of her, manipulated her and deceived her. All for what? Nothing, in the end.

"Ciri," he starts. But he finds that he doesn't know how to finish the sentence.

It seems like he doesn't have to.

The girl sniffles and wipes her tears, a fruitless task as more simply streak her cheeks, before crawling over to him and placing herself into his lap, curling into his chest and neck. His arms bound around her, warming her and keeping her safe.

"I don't want her to be with us." she sniffles. "She betrayed us, everybody always does."

"You have me, Ciri. And my brothers and Vesemir and Jaskier, you should know that I'm not going to forget this. What she's done, to us and you. I promise, I won't forget this. And I will keep you safe from her if she tries anything."

"Where is she now?"

"Infirmary. Jaskier took her there after you healed her. Stitches."

"So, you promise not to fall to your knees to her if she flutters her lashes again?"

He chuckles. Ciri bites a grin, looking so conflicted with her red eyes and her wet cheeks.

"Promise. Me and you against the world, pup. I'll keep you safe. From monsters and men and mages alike."

Ciri smiles.

"I don't want her to be with us, but if you think it's best, then you need to play bodyguard. I won't trust her again, you do understand that?"

"Of course." He wipes her cheeks again. And thankfully, they stay dry.

Ciri cuddles into him. "Rest some more, sweet girl. When you feel up to it, you can come downstairs and meet the brothers you helped."

"As long as they're not all like Lambert." Ciri yawned. "Can't handle another arse in this place."

Geralt laughs. "You can see Remus throwing him off a snowplough if you like."

Ciri smiles. And closes her eyes.

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

"I will, little one. Rest now."

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