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Yennefer hears the crack of her bones before she feels the pain. Her back, the very thing that proves to her her strength anf resilience and her sacrifice for her power, it bends like an acordian and snaps like a twig. Weak and brittle, no resistance at all against the mage's staff. Yennefer falls to the ground, her body suddenly boneless and doll-like. She is struck with such force that the top flies off in a thousand shards and a thousand pieces, crumbling like charred coal after a vicious fire.And then the pain hits.She screams. Screams louder than she ever had before in her life. Louder than her initiation, louder than she had in that fucking forest, louder than when her witcher had taken her to ecstacy. Her vocal chords ache with the strain, yet she cannot stop. The fire burning inside her back rivals the heat taken over her on that rock top in sodden. The fire doesn't stop, rages on and on and on, and her body shakes with it. She cannot breathe, she begs for death, but death does not come.Bang!She jumps with the sound, it startles her so much that she doesn't even notice how Geralt and Tissaia and Istredd and Triss have thrown themselves over her. In defence, trying to soothe, trying to heal. It does not matter, it cannot matter, because of they all are here with her, that means they've left the very thing that they should be protecting in the fill eyesight of the worst minister in the contininent.She looks up, trying to see Cirilla, who was now all alone against Vilgefortz. But she cannot. Istredd is in the way, she cannot see past him or Triss' large curls. Their eyes are wide, concerned. Geralt holding her hands, while the mages running their own over her back, trying to heal the wound, take the pain away, sew the bones back together. But alas, there is no relief.Istredd finally moves, and she finally gets a glimpse at Ciri. The girl is determined and single-minded. She inhales rapidly, doing naut but blocking Vilgefortz's relentless attacks. It's all she can do, his attacks are too quick, he wants to disarm her and disable her, she doesn't have a spare moment to attack him back, she needs to be patient, wait for him to leave an opening. Each time Vilgefortz attacks, he yells his spells, and the magic comes roaring out. Ciri's shields are strong and steadfast, and even they make the noise of a tree falling each time they hold strong against the magic.Yennefer sobs through the pain, she cannot move, cannot think of anything except the girl and the pain. It's all she can do, she is as defenceless as she's always been. It's exhausting, and it's excruciating to see the girl in such danger, and she hates that Geralt is here with her instead of with the one thing that's the most important to both of them."Ciri!" Yennefer sobs, managing to dig her nails into Geralt's calloused palm. "Help her!"Geralt shakes his head. "You are what's important now!" He yells above the deep thrum of chaos in the air, the roaring magic and the yelled insults and spells.Yennefer slaps him. "And you call yourself a father! Pathetic! She's going to fucking die!" Yennefer screams, finally being given an orifice to strike with her anger and her fear.Istredd looks over his shoulder as Tissaia's portal appears on the wall."We need to get you out of here!" Triss yells. She gets struck too."Pathetic sheep! Help Ciri!" she screams.They look over as Vilgefortz yells, and finally Ciri had landed a strike. Her strike is different than his. Vilgefortz needs to speak his spells into existence, but a large stream of golden light comes roaring out of thr girls' hands each and every time she wills it. The sound is deafening, and finally, the mage going flying, staff and all.Geralt's heart thumps hard in his chest as he takes in the girl for the moment he allows his attention to fall from Yennefer. She's covered in sweat, her hair is wild and knotted and there's blood streaming from her nose. But her eyes are a hazy dark jade, later focused on her opponent that had attacked them out of nowhere.Geralt's chest is bruising, his medallion is vibrating that much. He wants to pull it off, it's nothing but a hindrance when surrounded by mages. But he cannot, instead he holds tight to Yennefer's wrists as the mages chant. He cannot help Ciri, she's holding her own for the most part, and Yennefer is the one that's hurt. His sword cannot stand against their magic.All four mages are powerful, but the two over there? They're on a complete different level.Vilgefortz attacks with fury, but now Ciri anticipates it. It was different before, he had appeared out of nowhere in the mountainous fields and thrown himself at she and Yennefer, they hadn't had time to prepare. He had struck Yen in the back and took Geralt out with a large gust of wind, leaving only her left. His true target, after all.Now, with her rage channeling her magic, Cirilla is laser focused on this man. Her enemy, her opponent who tries to blast her into oblivion or rip her apart. She will not let him harm her, it will not happen. How dare he do this, how dare he come and harm them all.Her eyes darken, and she growls, flicking her wrist so another blast flies towards the evil bastard. He barely blocks it this time. Never before had she felt her magic like this, not with the portals, not with the visions or thr explosions, her body is now a conductor for her power, and she will not rest until he's dead. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't exhaust her, it feels good to bat this mage around like a rag doll, to strike out and feel her magic find it's marker, to finally let out the darkness that's always been within her.This man is like all the others, all those who wish to harm her, who wish to kill her or force a marriage and a son. This man is like all the others who will not let her have an ounce of peace, an ounce of happiness or calm in a world full of hatred and contention. Cirilla can't have peace? Fine, let there be war.She lands a good hit on him, and a grin plasters itself on her face. She's sure she must look demonic, with blood streaming down her nose and past her lips and chin, but it's apt for the circumstance. One should look like a demon when facing one.The two give and take ground, striking and defending, Ciri's hands are shaking with their growing power. The more she shakes, the more she breathes, the more fire she throws at the man, the deeper the power she can feel. Its luxurious, coursing through her, pumping with her heartbeat, the more glorious fire that can bring thr world and this prick to heel should she wish it.And in this moment, Cirilla does wish it.She manages to block two of Vilgefortz's shots and twists her wrists. He screams, and Ciri's left hand raises, fingers clawing and palm cupped. Her hold upon him is strong, and she raises her arm, the bastard levitates as she wills him to, screaming and clawing at his throat.Ciri's eyes are large and a bright, shimmering emerald, and she breathes hars with the exuberance. She's got him, she's finally got him. He, the great and powerful sorcerer, went to to toe with the rightful Queen of Cintra and he lost. He's finally lost. She's so lost in her reviere that the sounds of his cries and the roar of her power that she forgets they're alone."No! Stop!" the voice startles her. A spell that transforms into a blue orb crashes into her raised arm, and it hits her with such force she drops the spell and goes stumbling.Tissaia. Damn it."No! Stop this, now!" the mage yells at them both. Ciri looks over at him, and he staggers to his feet, heaving.Ciri growls, feeling that fire build in her palm again, but the woman speaks again."No, enough, the both of you! We can't be divided like this! Vilgefortz, I care for you, I've given you my body, you cannot be going down this path!"The man does nothing but strike at her with his magic, and she flies backwards. Ciri isn't shocked, and she lets his moment of watching Tissaia's body sag into the dirt be all the time she needs to throw the largest blast she can muster at this time at him.Alas, he's just as quick as she. He throws his own ball of power, and the world explodes around them.A blast as bright as the sun, and some say just as big as it, blinds all who have to misfortune of being in this grassy cliffside. It deafened them briefly, the sound too loud for even Geralt to hear, all any of the humans laying in this alcove is the high pitched beep in their ears as they recover from the blast.Istredd is the first to get up from their huddle, Tissaia's portal long since closed. He rushes towards the three of them, touching the oldest mage's forehead as she gasps from her betrayal, slowly stalking towards the only other male mage here.He inhales slowly with disgust as he takes in Vilgefortz's broken body. Its somehow a complete and entirely not surprise to see his body laying there, chest still, skin already paling, ehes closed. Nobody could have survived a blast such as that. And the child of elder blood hardly has unbloodied hands anyway. From what the witcher and Yennefer say, nobody can stand against her.But as he edges towards the girl, he is completely surprised to see her writhing around in pain, her face covered by bloody hands. It drips all around her, coating her golden hair, turning it a dark red. He inhales slowly, seeing the faenwedd buds already surrounding her. But Yennefer will have his balls if he focuses on that.Ciri screams her agony, crying out and rolling and writhing. Her legs kick with such force Istredd is nervous to get any closer to the girl. He tries to make his steps make as much sound as possible so not to spook the injured girl, looking back to see Geralt carrying Yennefer in his arms, Triss helping Tissaia to her feet.He touches Ciri's arm, and the girl immediately balls up magic he's never seen before, a flame of gold in her palm. He ducks the girl's attack, jumping back si she cannot kick him.He hears Yennefer ordering Geralt to put her down, to tend to Ciri, but she is ignored. Of course Tissaia would not go near the girl who killed her lover, Triss is terrified of her, and Yennefer is injured. And Geralt is simply her puppet, as both men always have been."Girl, it's me!" Istredd kneels before her, taking an ankle. It occurs to him she doesn't actually know him, although he knows a hell of a lot about her. "It's me, you're safe. He's dead, I will not hurt you."Besides, nobody is capable of that.But it seems he's wrong as he wrenches Ciri'shands from her face, it's completely covered in steadily pumping blood. He cannot see a wound, ignores the girls' weak hits as he inspects her head for a wound, before her face.He can't see anything for sure, but he's convinced it's somewhere around her eyes.The girl continues to cry and sob and shriek, far from the warrioress she had been moments ago.He manages to get her to open her eye -that means wrenching it open by himself with his thumb and pointer finger- and inhales sharply."Fuck, we need a healer! Now!" He arranges the girls thrashing limbs into his arms, ignoring the researcher within him as he notices her blood is all over his hands and shirt.He frowns when he realises that the white haired protector hasn't moved a step to the girl who Yennefer claimed he protected like a hulking beast. Yet here he stays, many feet away with the mage in his arms. Who swiftly punches him in the chin because of it."A portal!" He pants with the strain of restraining the girl and keeping her in his arms. "Now! Shes-she's-""What?" Triss whispers."Bring the body with us. He's blinded her."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It hurts too much to cry, which is why Cirilla cries more. It's painfully ironic that the burn is caused by water, but soon the burn and the tears are too great for her to endure that she has to settle for pained gasps. She's stuck where she is, unable to portal, unable to walk, unable to see.The afternoon that the hansa of divelished mages and injured sorceresses had stumbled into the temple of Melitele seems like months ago, although it's probably hardly more than a week or two. But time passes so differently now she can hardly bare it. Ever since the slaughter, Ciri had never stopped, always on the move, always training, months had passed with different types of ease, but now? Stuck in a bed with a bloody bandage across her eyes?In a way, Ciri preferred her speedy life. There was always something to do, wether that be finding Geralt, training with the witchers, trying to forgive Yennefer, training with her while the three of them made their way through the continent, evading Nilfguaard and everybody else on the path, she's not used to sitting still, just laying in a bed.The only thing that was similar was her life as a princess, but even that was busy in and of itself, so many lessons, so many duties, so many council meetings she sat in upon, so many trips to run away with her friends and play knucklebones and rook in the streets. She didn't have to physically move anywhere, and grandmother allowed her free time on the weekends and odd weeks off every couple of months, it was a nice life, and her heart aches with those she has lost.She hadn't had this much time sit and think before, and her heart aches with the memory of everybody who has died for her, everybody she has lost in one way or another, everybody who has died just because she's the daughter of Pavetta of Cintra."Princess Cirilla?"Gods, she has not been called that in months.Ciri shuffles around on her bed, not quite sure where her accomplice is."Uh-uh-yes." she breathes, touching the well worn fabric of her bedsheets. She's on her own in her room, having been moved from the infirmary after three dinners and two breakfasts. And ever since they had gotten here, she has been alone, she thinks bitterly, clenching her fists in the sheets."Princess." Ciri hears rustling of clothing. Is the girl bowing, or is she preparing to strangle her from behind? Which one does she prefer more? "I have your lunch." Now, she hears the jingle of a metal tray. Show many plates are on there? Two, three?"Thank you." She breathes, pushing backwards towards her pillows and pulling her knees up to her chest. She tries to turn away from the girl as much as possible, not for rudeness, but for fear of what state she's in. When's the last time she bathed, brushed her hair, ran a wooden brush over her teeth? When are the maesters going to return to change her bandage? It's slick with thickening blood, the wounds not yet healed. But she wouldn't know if they were or not, all Ciri can see is black.The only way she can tell time is from the smell of porridge and fruits and eggs, when that smell turns to warm bread and hard, salty cheese and roasted meats and fresh, crunchy vegetables, until it turns into peppery, garlicky hunks of roasted venison or beef, crispy, oily, salty potatoes, sweet root vegetables and savory greens. Each has a distinct smell, she's properly realised.It would help if the masters would appear at set times, so she could use them as her Muse, but she can smell Nenneke's lavender scented lotion all hours of the day whenever she enters her rooms to crush herbs into her bandages and spray oils into her eyes. Sometimes it's after porridge, sometimes it's after bread, sometimes it's after potatoes.She's so used to gruff, large witcher hands that she's surprised whenever the maesters come, their deep voices and soft, small hands. A lifetime of papers and theory, not violence and training, she supposes. They, too, come in at all hours, taking off her bandages and rubbing clothes over her eyes, trying to keep their voices calm so not to worry her, but with the amount of tonics and herbs and liquids they poor into her eyes and their wounds that no words, no comforting shoulder squeezes could ever bring back a modicum of hope."Here, your highness." Ciri is snapped back into reality from her reviere. She can hear the funny table being rolled over towards her after the tray has been settled down. She's felt it before, there's two thin, long pieces of wood with two wheels on each side, a large piece of wood, and then there is the table, long enough that it stretches over her bed. It's a strange thing, but amusingly functional.She inhales deeply as she lowers herself before the meal. Bread and cheese and salted ham, she thinks, with a couple dishes of fruits and vegetables. Could it be, sugar cookies?"Here you are, your majesty." A small cup lands upon Ciri's shoulder, and she tosses back the healing tonic with ease. She's greatful for the honey they put in, it's less gritty that way."Thank you." She whispers. All of her years of being weary of food and having it tasted tug at her mind, and she hated how trusting she's got to be with her blindness being so dramatic. Maybe she could manage if her vision was just blurry, but stark black? Absolutely not. "What is your name?""Oh. Uh, Amelie, your grace." The girl says. Is she a staff member, a novice learning her trade?"Thank you, Amelie."They both know the drill by now. Lead Ciri's hands over towards the food, let her remember where the cups of water and sweet tea stand, covered with some sort of stretchy material over the cylinder, find the hollowed out bamboo to suckle on, and leave her to it.Her heart aches as her stomach fills with the lovely warm bread and salty butter and hard cheese and thick slices of ham. It's not her vulnerability, her inability for anything that hurts the most. Nor is it her grief amd physical pain that finally makes itself known after being pushed down for many months. It's how alone she would feel, in this vast room with many windows, a cruel irony.Ciri loves Geralt. She loves him so much as a protector, a mentor, a tutor and a father. But his abandonment is the one blow she suffers the most from, where was he? She's been here for fifteen dinners and fourteen breakfasts, and not once has she felt his large, calloused hands against her wrist or in her hair, heard his gruff voice telling her everything would be okay. Her heart aches, she feels tears burn against her eyes, and she fights them back. The pain is too horrible when when she cries, and that leads to a horrible cycle of pain and blood and tears and so much pain that it takes her breath away.She wants Geralt, but Geralt is not here. Geralt is not here.She wants Jaskier, even though the sting of his own betrayal and abdonment stings. She wants Yennefer, even though she has done equally as horrible things to her as Vilgefortz did. She wants Lambert and Vesemjr and Coën, with their gruff voices and stupid jokes and dirty faces and tight hugs that smell horrible but feel so nice and safe that she never wants to leave them. She wants Goldencheeks and her husband and the two bratty boys, she'd even take that woman from the cintran camp, even though she had turned horrid in the end. She wants someone to be with her, to talk to her and hold her hand so she had some tether of normality and togetherness that being alone in this room wasn't so bad anymore.Why had Geralt chosen Yennefer? The mage who had willingly thrown Ciri, hid own daughter, to her grave by the hand, who had manipulated her into thinking Geralt himself was being tortured for her, who had been the cause of several of Geralt's own brothers being butchered in their own home, the cause of Cirilla's own possession and heartbreak to see the ones she had loved and lost puppeteered and taken away in front of her eyes, the mage who had puppeteered Geralt's own body to kill her enemies and who was going to let him die for it, the mage who treats Geralt like a fucking dog on a leash and he picks her? Her, over the girl that Geralt himself claimed as his daughter? When said daughter had saved them from the sorcerer Yennefer herself brought to them?It makes it worse that he's close, she thinks, swallowing down more vegetables. Close, somewhere in this temple, and he refuses to leave Yennefer's side to check his daughter is alive, the daughter who he had seen screaming and bloodied? What kind of man was he?He and her truly did deserve each other, she thinks, swallowing thickly, trying her best to harden her heart against the sadness and longing.Once the food and drink is gone, Ciri slowly climbs out of her bed, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble flooring. She walks slowly, pressing toe to heel, feeling like she was on the pendulum rather than simply walking in a line trying to find her bathing chamber.She finds a wall after a few minutes of walking slowly, running her fingers against the cold, sleek marble. She follows the perimeter of the room until she finds the door she's looking for, taking a few moments to navigate how to use the handles, they're so unnesserily complicated, and feels a silly sense of accomplishment when she doors open and she walks into the warm room. It smells of flowery oils and soaps, the humidity from a bathtub or spring covering her body.She sighs, closing the doors and beginning to walk slowly around the room to try and find anything she could use. Where are the towels? The soaps, the robes or the actual water itself. Ciri feels pathetic as she slowly makes her way around the perimeter, never having spent so much time on a task as mundane as this before that bastard took so much away from her. Damn him. Damn him to the seven hels, damn Geralt for abandoning her and damn Yennefer for bringing this man and this danger into her life in the first place.By the time she's gotten situated and managed not to fall into the underfloor bathtub, the hot water surrounding her, lulling her, the only thing that had soothed her in far too many days. She sits there ad finally allowed herself to grieve all she's been through, all she's lost, all she's loved and all who have left her in one way or another.And with that, Cirilla finally allows herself to cry.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ciri's grand reward for her eyes healing is a stick. A stick like any other from a tree, as tall as her shoulder and freshly rescued from the woodlands near the temple. She and Geralt have probably hiked next to wherever this stick lived and adapted through the seasons, and look where it's ended up. In the hand if a helpless orphan with nothing else to her name. What a fall from grace Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon has had, it's a bitter pill to swallow indeed.Cirilla spends her days from breakfast to slumber pacing the floor of her marble prison that she calls her new bedchamber. Sweeping the floor with her stick as she takes small steps. Right foot, left swing. Left foot, right swing. A horrifically plain existence after much magnificence and magnitude, think, the girl who has the power to destroy the world cannot even walk over an obstacle without a stick in her hand, the gods of fate and fortune truly laugh at her, indeed.There's no slick blood and puss covered bandage over her eyes, but she cannot imagine her eyes look the same as they once did. Brilliant emerald that shone with the power of the world, large and beautiful and the image of her long dead mother, she cannot imagine she looks that way now. Are her pupils bright grey? Are there large cuts on her eyeballs? Is the emerald slashed into a deep ruby? She will never be able to tell again, and the thought aches her. Nobody will tell her what she looks like now, and that in itself is worse than having a clear image in her head.Left, right. Right, left.It's an ironic sense of calm that overflows her. A painful calm, a calm she never would have needed should she not be left blinded and destitute and alone. Who can protect her now? Ciri sure as shit cannot protect herself, if she ever could. Yennefer may be a broken doll for all she knows, and Geralt had turned his back on her the moment Vilgefortz's staff connected with Yennefer. They have broken her heart, and now she is alone.I've never met anyone like you before, alone in the heart. Not one of many.The words echo in her mind, the dead vampire loving in within her skull. Isn't that the truth now, more than ever? She had been alone in her heart then, with Nivillen and Vereena, but she has lost so much more since then that it feels more apt. That's what she is, what she will always be. Alone in the heart, not one of many.Who could even protect her? The temple's neutrality means absolutely nothing, Rience and his band of bastards ensured that. The moment he, Nilfguaard, other mages, the wild hunt catches her scent, Ciri knows she's fucked. She wouldn't even be able to see them or defend herself, she's completely pathetic in this moment that she knows that if the temple girls doing chores had left a knife in here, the prophecy would be over and she would finally be at peace. To be encased within Calanthe's strong arms once more, to hear Pavetta sing and feel Eist's hand in her hear, to see Mouseack make pretty designs with his magic at night.Isn't that a lovely thought?She's managed another lap of her rooms, her stick tapping against the wall. She exhales, spinning around to do the lap again. Because what else is there to do in this temple, in this life, in this moment?She's just past her bed when the door opens, and for a moment, she does not recognise who it is. Which is rediculous, because although the mint and soap are new, the leather that he always wears would tell him apart from a hundred cattle. The underlying scent of lavender and gooseberries fly into her room, and she instantly knows who it is.But honestly, who else could it be, when the overpowering scent of sweat, testosterone and pleasure floods her room and makes her gag."So, she's better then." Is Ciri's greeting.A pause."Ciri." He says her name so earnestly that if this was a few weeks ago, she would have thrown herself at his back or into his arms, giggling as he would spin her about or throw her in the air. But now is not that time, he has chosen his sinful sorceress over the injured child he once said was his daughter. Is that the case, or had he rejected her the way she has rejected him?"Who else could come into my room stinking of a brothel? Why else would you if she wasn't up and about?" Ciri carries on as if he had not spoken. "Finally threw me a thought, remembered my state?""Cirilla, I-" his voice echoes slightly, and she instantly sticks her stick out in front of her, a pathetic imitation of even a feeble training sword."Don't!" she gasps loud, staggering backwards. "What's the point of this, why are you here? Leave me be. You've certainly had more than enough practice for it to be second nature by now.""Ciri, please, let me-""When's the last time you've used that word? That's not playing bedsport with Yennefer, because from how you reek, it's not been that long." she hisses, turning around and continuing her pathetic stick swinging until she taps against an obstacle. She traces it with her fingertips, and it takes three feeble attempts before she finds her chair.He's still here, she can smell the sex in the air. It's repulsive, randy dogs, the pair of them."So, Yennefer's better?" she asks. "Paralysed, they tell me?""Yes." He says after a moment. "It took a few attempts for Triss and her mage friends to heal her, a lot of hours spent chanting to heal the bones and the bonds of her back, a few more to get her legs working.""It's it's only up until now you've spared me a thought. Have you never been concerned for me, Geralt? Or are you that enamoured with her that you've forgotten that I need you, too? That I needed somebody, too? Yennefer had Triss and those two others, did you have to be there, too? I-I was alone and bleeding and screaming for you, and don't you fucking dare tell me you didn't hear me. That hearing of yours goes for miles, you heard me, you chose not to come." Ciri finishes. She's not upset, she doesn't cry or tear up. She's just, sad? Disappointed, maybe? But definitely not shocked, not angry, just sad."Cirilla, I did not set out to hurt you. Belive me, that's the last thing I would ever do, you are mine. But we knew what was wrong with you instantly, we didn't know with Yen for days, the breaks were that fine, that severe. All that was needed for your recovery was to wait until your body healed, Yennefer was broken in half.""And that makes it matter more than me? You said I'm your child, your daughter, your ward and apprentice, but the first time I need you, you turned your back on me. Why couldn't you have just came in for a few minutes every day, so I knew you were even thinking of me, that you still cared about me. I-I have lived for weeks seeing nothing and feeling blood on my face because of Yennefer's meddling in our lives, and I needed someone with me. And you chose not to be, you chose to give her a fourth person when I had none. How can I come back from that? How can you expect me to look at you the same way when I know you'd always wait until Yennefer was 100% healed before even sparing me a glance. You haven't even walked past my ward, I've been alone, Geralt. And I've been alone because of you."He doesn't speak. She listens out for the movement of cotton, the slight hiss of moving hair. So, he's hung his head. Good, let him be ashamed."I don't think you regret it," Cirilla says. "You don't, do you? You'd do the same thing if we could go back. I'm not asking you to spend each minute with me when Yennefer is hurt, I know you love her, although I don't understand why. Couldn't you have even just came in when she was asleep? When she was occupied with the mages, would it have hurt to come and see if I was okay?""I should have done it differently, I know that. But I was so worried about her, and Nenneke told me you were stable, but Yennefer was not and-""Stable, but completely blind." Ciri hisses."Yes, I know that. And I'm sorry, Ciri. I shouldn't have focused completely on Yen, but Yen's okay now. And I'm here.""But it's not enough." Ciri's voice is quiet. "I thought I could trust you, Geralt-""And you can, you still can-""But I realised I was wrong. I was in danger and alone in Thanedd, and you went with Yennefer to dance and fuck. I was in danger with Vilgefortz, and you were with Yennefer. I was bleeding and infected and blinded, and you were with Yennefer. I needed you, and you were with Yennefer. That's a common theme, isn't it? And now I know that I can trust none of you. Not you, Yennefer or Jaskier. You all put your bodily pleasure above my physical safety, and even now you do the same. I can smell her on you, lilac and gooseberries, sweat and endorphins. You smell of her, and smell of sex. What a disappointment you've turned out to be."She's silenced him, she can hear the huff of his breath and the shake of his chest. Is he upset? Does he cry?"I have an idea." His voice cracks. "Come with me.""Have you forgotten already? I can't see.""I know, come here."Ciri expects to be picked up like the male physicians have been doing over the last few days, but all that happens is a hand grasps her own. It's large, calloused and slick."No. Wash first. You reek."Geralt makes a noise as he exhales, but within the minute, Ciri is alone in her rooms once more, the only evidence she hadn't been is the warmth in her hand.~~"What is the point of this? Geralt, I can't see. Why have you given me a sword?" Ciri asks him. He's close, she can smell fresh soap and clean cotton. But her fingers enclose on two very different objects. In her left, there is her stick. In the right, a wooden training sword. The hilt of the sword is smooth, while her stick is a jaggedy and as wild as it had been when it lived up a tree."You have emotion to let out. If you hold onto it, you will explode at the least little thing. It must be let out. And this is a way to." Yennefer's voice is calm as she looks at the two of them. Both all gleaming bright hair and dark clothes, although Ciri is dwarfed and underpowered in the shadow of the witcher."And giving a sword to a blind girl is the answer?""It's the most convenient." Geralt says. He's closer now. "You're resentful, you're hurt at what was done to you. And now you can let it out. Swing at me.""Do you have a sword too?""Of course.""And you want me to just attack you?""Yes."Ciri pauses, waiting for the catch. But it doesn't come.She inhales, her left hand extending towards him. The stick taps against his boot twice.And then it snaps."Hey!" Ciri yells. Trying to tap the pitifully small stick against the floor, but it doesn't even reach her knee. "That's my eyes!""No, it is not." Geralt's voice is even. "You might need it to walk around, but not to fight. Do you remember all those hours on the pendulum, blindfolded? All those hours sparring, blindfolded? You're the same them as you are now. You know how to fight without sight. So do it.""No. I refuse to look like a laughing stock.""Who says you would? Can the powerful sorceress not manage without her sight when she has four other senses and months of training?" He's goading her and she knows it, but irritation flares in her chest. It's a similar method Lambert used to use."Fuck off.""That's the spirit. Now hit me."Ciri doesn't hesitate this time. She swings, but it's caught easily by the witcher. She growls at him, and swings again. It's parried, and she has to stumble backwards to keep her balance.Ciri nervously places heel to toe, heel to toe, as she makes her way to him again."Come on, come and get me. Come and get revenge for what happened." He says. And like the bastard he is, he moves backwards, to the side, and Cirilla is vulnerable once more.He taps her back suddenly and she gasps, twisting around. She swings, but he's gone."Come on, girl. You're better than that."Geralt taps her side, and he disappears again."This isn't fair!" Ciri shrieks after a seventh tap. "I can't see you, I can't hear you, what's the point?!""The point is to stop you relying on the stick, walk longer strides. Come on, Ciri. Listen to my clothes, my breath, smell the soap. You don't need eyes to fight."Miraculously, she actually blocks a tap."Good." He pivots away and Ciri follows, swinging. The wood makes contact and she jumps away before he can tap her.The hours pass, and she grows bolder and confident with every passing blow. Her stomach rumbles with hunger, but she doesn't stop. She cannot stop. All that matters in these moments is hitting the witcher, making the sword fly away and getting him in the neck. She wants to hit him, let her own sword fly away and pummel his face for everything he's done to her, she wants to cry away the pain in her heart, but none of that can be done if she doesn't swing. Swing the sword as hard as she can until-"Good!" Yennefer calls out, Ciri comes back from her reviere to fins out she's got his sword in her hand, high above her head and her own sword pointed at his throat. She tugs it from his hand and gets a knee under his, trapping his body as it falls into the mud they've been fighting on."Well done." His voice is quiet now as she kneels on his torso, pushing him further into the muck. Her chest heaves, her muscles burn and she sweats despite the early spring chill. "Who needs eyes, huh?""If I ever see you again, you're going to pay, witcher."She thunks the swords onto his chest and gets up, her feet squelching in the mud as Yennefer claps."Well done Ciri." small, soft hands grasp her cheeks. "Well done."

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Days turn to weeks, and Yennefer learns to walk again as if she had never lost the ability. She and Geralt take nightly trysts of bedsports and morning walks that obviously lead to sensual play, given the amount of sweat and endorphins Cirilla is forced to smell every time they enter her rooms for pieces of cheese, bread, meats and fruits.She sends them away just as often as she does not, telling them to come back when they didn't reek of sex and each other, and the silence is as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking when she is alone and they've left to bathe (and probably fuck again, lets be real) . She doesn't care about the sex smell, not really.Yeah, she'd love not to have their bedsports shoved under her nose every day, but that's not really the point of her bitterness. The fact of the matter is that Yennefer is healed, and Cirilla is not, and she would rather rot in her misery and jealousy and envy than she would prefer to choke down lunch smelling the scent of victory and endorphins.It would hurt less to be alone and abandoned and blinded than it would being reminded of her injuries day in and day out while those who had a hand in it walk and fuck free as if nothing had ever happened.The mages pop in every couple of days with news of continent. With his lapdog gone, Ehmyr is facing unrest with his prized general and mage being butchered by an unknown assassin and burned in the night. That's the story the mages have told, but Ciri doesn't care about the truth getting out. What does it matter now? The bastard is gone, but his mark is still here, so is he really gone?Ciri finishes the last of her cheese cubes and roasted chicken and potatoes. Her grandmother would be spinning in her gave if she ever had one, to see her granddaughter eating with her fingers and sucking the juice from her tips. Undignified and wild, she would call her. She smiles at the thought, and the thought brings her to tears.It doesn't hurt to cry now, and the occasional burn doesn't make her cry out in pain as she had done the first couple weeks post blinding. She allows herself to weep, for there is nobody to judge her and nobody to scold and nobody to impress and nobody to fool.Ciri is a child, still a child. An injured, blinded child who grieves for her family and wishes she could see Calanthe's face just one more time.Her blood is one thing that returns, and it's all messy business trying to figure out a way to deal with the matter. The cramps that leave her bedbound are the least of her problems. Bathing constantly, never sure if anybody could see a trickle of red at her rear, even though she doesn't get out of bed unless it's to use the privy or the bathtub. It's a messy business, constantly cleaning herself and making sure the rags aren't too tight or too loose.Ciri refuses Yennefer and Geralt when they ask for entry, her new stick at her bedside, her only companion. It's too embarrassing to see them when she is so much less than what she once was. Her heart aches with the memory of how glorious she was, how powerful and feared, and respected. And look at her now, pathetic and blinded and bedbound.Her heart hurts, but when the blood stops and she manages to leave her rooms, it's a calming ritual, the swinging of her stick. Left, right, left, right. She doesn't trip anymore on the stick, no moments of confusion. She takes her moments of peace where she can find them and is amused by her own pathos that this is what her life has come to. Saviour of humans and elves alike, Queen of Cintra and tenth daughter of Lara Dorren herself, reduced to this. Left, right, left, right.At Yennefer's bidding, the mages hours with their hands on her face, chanting spells and rubbing salves. It's reluctant. She can smell Triss' fear when she comes into the room. But what is there to fear about Ciri, now? She's not dangerous, she's not a witcher or a warrior, not a Queen or a sorceress or an enchantress, she's a girl with a stick.But of course, nothing changes. No mage can heal her, she obviously cannot heal herself, so this is what it's all been for, is it? To shuffle about with a stick muttering "left, right"?It's laughable, and it's heartbreaking, and it's amusing, and it's devastating. Her heart is just as broken as her eyes, and she will not let herself be a burden any longer.Her feet crunch against the snow, she can smell the ozone in the air from her portal. She's cold, but it feels right to be here after all the warm summer days with her stick her new trusty companion. That stick is long gone, stuck in the hills while Cirilla is in the mountains.She's not sure why she picked this place, nor what she expects to happen, but it felt right to be in the cold, to be in the snow. Does it bring her closer to Calanthe, who died in the frost? Does it remind her of who she had been once, in these same hills, young and hungry for knowledge and power and swordplay and stories? She doesn't know, so she keeps walking.She can hear the snap of a twig, and she inhales sharply. Yes, this is what is meant to happen. She's meant to portal herself here and be taken out of this world by a proper monster, so she may see whom she loves in the next world with her heart mended.She hears a huff of breath, and she stills. Is it a werewolf? A regular wolf? Whatever it is, let it be merciful, let whatever it be take her from this world quick, not let it hurt.She walks forward towards the sound, her heart racing. This is it. This is when her life is at its end, in all pathetic glory, taken out by a hound with no fanfare, the great and powerful sorceress, finally met her match not with Vilgefortz, but a hound.And granted, a hound she meets. But she does not meet her end by this hound.Because a snout meets her open palm, and she is vigorously sniffed and snuffled. It's a wolf, she realises, long fur and strong muscles and easily dwarfing any working dog who she had seen in the past. She thinks it's a boy, it's huffs are deep, and he is tall, coming up to her ribcage and waistline just with its midsection.Fate doesn't obey her command of death, because the wolf does not maul her or eat her or kill her. No, the wolf sniffs and snuffles, twirling around her, before settling at her front and pressing his large, front paws against her shoulders. And starts to stripe long, wet licks against her face."Oh, gross." Ciri huffs, but she laughs a true laugh, the wolf continuing to give her kisses and touching his snout to her nose and head and his head to ber own. She smiles for him, running her hands over his body and face, quickly figuring out that he's a very large wolf, but his fur is soft and fluffy and has multiple layers, but he is a gentle beast as he rubs himself over her as she kneels down to continue to stroke hm and eagerly take in his attentions."Hello, hello, hello. Yes, you are beautiful, aren't you." Ciri whispers, feeling tears burn her eyes again. This if the first properly nice thing she's had since her birthday, everything else had been toil and pain and abandonment. But this wolf, who is supposed to be a predator, offers affection and presumably protection asking for nothing in return. He's warm and fluffy and loving and he licks her tears away."Good boy." Ciri never wants to leave this spot, sitting in the snow petting a lovely wolf, but fate loves to fuck with her."Ciri!"For fucks sake, why is he here?"Geralt." She turns, hearing his fast footsteps crunching in the snow. Much to her dismay, the wolf backs up. "No, come back, please." she cannot bare this wolf to leave her just yet, and surprising, she can feel him sit st her side. Just to make sure, she fists a handful of his fur and waits for the other wolf to come closer and speak to her."Have you lost your fucking mind?!" He's angry, the words are full of his emotion. "Why would you do that, make a portal and just fuck off, while you're still injured and vulnerable?! Don't you know how worried we've been?!""That would be a first, hmm?" Ciri spits back. "I thought you would be focused on Yennefer's thighs to notice.""We aren't sex craized maniacs, Cirilla-""Could have fooled me. You reek of each other, it makes me sick to smell is time and again every day. You clearly aren't focusing on me and healing me, so why would I think you care about me and my weareabouts?""For fucks sake."Ciri hears him lean over, to pick her up or set her on her feet, but her wolf growls at him, and he steps back."What's this?""A wolf." She replies. "And he's mine."~~From that point on, Ciri adopts the wolf as her own. Or does he adopt her? Does it really matter?Ciri christened her wolf Alexei, and Alexei became her eyes. He doesn't mind the brace the blacksmiths and cobblers fashion for him, going all around his chest and front legs, so long as Ciri let's him off the harness so he may run around for a few hours every day. She's happy with the compromise, for it gives her time to breathe and take up the spring sunshine, and think of what to do next. Her right hand holds the black leather harness, and the left holds her black metal cane with a rolling ball, another smithy gift. Its a step up from her sticks, she thinks, as she and Alexei lap the temple for the third time today. Shes heard Nenneke and the priestesses and the scholars praise her in whispers, all of them watching whenever she manages to find specifics in the new lodgings, or when she learns to read the bumps on the papers her new teachers give her.It takes a bit of time before Ciri has the strength to see Geralt and Yennefer again. She's not sure why the two of them are still in the temple, Yennefer's injuries are healed now, but the two of them remain nonetheless. Could it be the easy meals and the hours of bedsports that keep them holed up in the temple? Or perhaps something more?Ciri learns to read in her new language every afternoon when the young scholars run around with Alexei in the gardens and the pastures. Her fingertips become sensitive to the differences in the spaces of the bumps, and all in all, its an easy transition after Masters Vladimir and Beetham figure out how to keep her temper from flaring in those early days of this strange language.Today, summer begins to blow her hot breath over thr temple of Melitele, and Ciri has finished her afternoon lessons with her tutors. She can feel the heat of the air, the smell of dust and dew as the sun begins to set. She and Alexei have been playing ball for a little over half a sand fall, and it's time for their quick trek around the temple before supper.She throws the ball for the final time, her hand that is not holding the harness or cane is damp from Alexei's spit. She simply wipes it on her pants and hears the frantic huff and puff as her pup runs towards her once again.She breathes in deep, hearing footsteps come towards her. The gait is slow, relaxed, and the smell of cotton, sweat, lilac and ale."Evening, Geralt." She says. The footsteps stop, surprised, and she grins when Alexei comes to heel, popping the ball into the brown leather sachel she wears, the old leather strip strapped around her body and the small bag now heavy with the ball, a thick comb, some uneven chopped veiny carrots and a small waterskin."Ciri." His voice is gruff, and he simply stands there as she removed the cane from one hand and straps her boy into his harness. It's quick work, he steps into the leather and chains, and all she needs to do is press a clasp on top and tighten a belt at the bottom. She graps the handlebar firmly, shoving her hand into the sachel to feed him some carrot. He scarfs it down."Good boy." she hums, running her fingers down the long, soft fur."Im going to walk with you two today." The witcher announces. "And then we'll collect Yennefer, and have supper together. After he goes to your rooms, you're going to train with me in the gardens." Geralt interjects the moment between master and wolf, and she almost forgot he was there."Any particular reason why?" She asks, getting cane into place."It's time to work on your training again." He says, watching his feet as the three of them make their way through the gallant doorway."i'n hystafelloedd, un dewr." Ciri whispers to the dog, and he walks confidently.He watches the pair, sees how confidently Cirilla walks with the wolf, how she doesn't make a mistake when it comes to her swinging ball cane thing. They walk as if one, the wolf's paws slapping against the marble, Ciri's new boots making a deep clunk as the strong leather and steel carry her along all the corridors and grand rooms. Gone is the girl who refused to leave her rooms with her puny wooden twig, who could barely navigate over a pile of books in an empty corridor. She even maneuvers past people and talkes obstacles as if they aren't there. If he didn't know she was blind, and she had no wolf or cane, Geralt wouldn't know she was blind, she walks so normally."Good." He rumbles praise at her when they get to her and the wolf's rooms. He follows her in, observing all the potted flowers and plants, the books and the machines that make those bumpy papers that Ciri reads from with her hands. Desks and papers and weaponry and rags she's been turning into clothes. Its a normal girls room, he can even see tabletops of cosmetics and creams, the large bed unmade from the night before.Ciri unchained Alexei and the wolf dove onto the bed, sitting tall so they're of a height."Who's a good boy." Ciri scratches him and jiggles his face and neck. The wolf laps up the praise."You've trained him well." Geralt comments, coming over, offering his hand to the wolf to sniff and headbutt. He does, lapping up the pets from the large man."He's my eyes." Ciri shrugs. "Can I ask you something?""Anything.""What does he look like?""You don't know?""Geralt, I'm blind. And nobody has told me. So, what does he look like?""Uh, he's got long red fur. A mix of red and brown, but there's no variation in the colour. Longer fur than I've ever seen in a wolf, but he's pureblood. But he's got a long triple coat. Bright blue eyes, sharp and intense. Bushy tail, just as tall as any wolf I've seen. Unusual, but loyal."Ciri exhales."And me?""What do you mean?""Do we need to go through it again? I'm blind, don't know what I look like anymore. What do I look like, Geralt?""The same as ever. Long blonde hair that Yennefer-""I don't want to hear about Yennefer, or your love and lust for her. Tell me what I look like." Ciri interjects, obviously having lost her last straw of his deviation to that woman."Alright." Geralt whispers. "Your hair is golden, long and curly whenever you leave it in a braid overnight. Your skin is pale, all your childhood puffiness gone. There's a few red marks around your eyes, but they are just lines. They aren't hideous, they don't maar you like Eskel's do. Your eyes are as big and green as ever, there's not a mark on them. Your eyes look normal, as much as they ever did. You're gaining weight and muscle from your meals and walks, and your arms are getting stronger. That's it, you're as brave and strong as you ever were.""Do-do you think I'll ever see again?"He sighs loudly. "That's why Yen wants to join us for dinner-""Us? I've dined alone for weeks."She's ignored."She's been researching and speaking with her mage friends. As soon as you're confident with him and the cane, now that the physical ailments are nearly gone, they want to run tests. And, since it was magic that blinded you, they think magic will be the thing that heals you."

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Yennefer's hands are small. Small and soft with long, perfectly kempt nails. Her hand notion smells of her trademark flowers and fruit. There isn't a wrinkle or a cut, although she knows that so much blood covers these hands that's its astounding there isn't an ounce of trauma or regret or question in her mind. Yennefer is a selfish creature, even Yennefer knows that, but it startles Ciri how deeply it runs.Her voice is soft as she whispers another spell, both hands covering Ciri's face. The long, thin fingers trail up her eyelids, her eyes ache with the soft pressure of the soft pads of her fingertips as she presses them into her skin. Yennefer whispers and whispers and whispers, she can smell the ozone of magic in the air, the thickness on her tounge and at the back of her throat.Finally, the hands fall, and Ciri can hear the disappointment in the air as all the adults in the room sag and sigh with rejection. She can hear the rustle of clothing and the brush of Alexei's fur as he sags against her. He smells of soap and leaves, he's soft and warm and a comforting weight across her lap, as her own hands lay across his fur."Fuck's sake." Yennefer hisses. She hears the chair creak and the rustle of her many skirts as she shoots up and the chair shoots backwards. "For fuck's sake!" she yells. Ciri jumps at the sound. "We've been at this for hours, why the fuck is nothing working?!""Yennefer. Be calm." Tissaia warns her. Cool mint and fresh pine flows through the room as the former rectoress of aretuza stands up from her own chair. "We never thought we would heal your paralysis, and we did. We can heal the child, too. We just need more time." Tissaia's voice is calm, a far cry from the wild and broken hearted mage Ciri had heard stories about in the summer.An attempt to end her life had failed in the aftermath of the coup, Aretuza temporarily disbanded, mages from all around the continent reeling from Thanedd's destruction and the death of Vilgefortz. Ciri had not seen or heard of her in that state, but now she is as poised and cold as she ever was."How much longer do we have to wait?! We don't have time, Tissaia! The hunt, Nilfguaard, Rience and the elves, they still come for her!" Yennefer cries out. Geralt growls in response, he's seventeen paces away. He sags against the windowsill, his arms folded as they usually are. She can tell from his scent and his sound and the way Yennefer's heels clack as they walk towards him. Rough, calloused palms crunch and hiss as the rough skin meets the softness of Yen's. They hold hands then."Yen's right." Triss says. Her voice is soft, she's as far away from Ciri as she can be. So, she's still scared of her then, Ciri thinks with a chuckle. The red haired mage is such a pathetic sheep just as much as Yennefer is a selfish bitch. Although there is tenderness between her and the other mage, Ciri can still admit that she is flawed just as much as Geralt is whipped and leashed to her. Geralt is pathetic when it comes to Yen, Yen treats him like a dog, Triss is weak and pines after the witcher, Tissaia is painfully arrogant, while Istredd is plain and forgettable. But even he wants something for her.Is her blindness making her bitter and unhappy, or can she simply see the truth and flaws of those who are attempting to heal her?"But so are you, Tissaia. We will find a way to heal Cirilla, but we need to do it quickly. This place may be famed for neutrality, but the attack last year tells us that this means nothing. We need to move her, and quick. Too many people know she's here, and what she is capable of." Triss finishes. She walks forward. "Tissaia, why don't you look into Ciri's eyes for a while longer, connect your chaos. Perhaps you'll find the injury we seek."The older mage exhales. "I suppose it cannot do harm. Girls, you two begin to look for a safe house we can remove the girl to, she cannot stay here permanently. Faith in this place is no security." Ciri can smell and hear the mage coming close. Heels clack against the marble, her perfume is strong. Her skirts are heavy, and her hands are cold.Ciri closes her eyes as she feels the cold, narrow and pointy fingers on her cheeks as Tissaia sits in front of her. Alexei smells the mage, but relaxes against his mistress. She exhales, feeling her fingers cover her eyes, and the tug in her head as Tissaia began to prod her mind. She lets her in, relaxing as much as she can with an ice queen who she does not trust, but she knows she has to let down her walls to try and gain what was taken from her.Before this horror, the two had only met once. After she had been struck and insulted by that bitchy mage, this older bitchy mage had tried to make her submit with magic. She remembers the cold hand on her chin, the firmness of her fingers and the sudden tidalwave of pressure in her mind, voices whispering for her to submit to this woman.Of course, she had not, she never would. Her resistance was strong, and she had managed to push back until icy blue eyes had bled and Tissaia had stumbled backwards. That act had been so shocking that Yennefer's bitchiness hadn't even stung, and the two had never crossed paths to this extent until this day, over a year later.Ciri feels the magic flowing through her, its weaker than her own, but it's a strange feeling. Power flowing through her like running water and feeling every nook and cranny of her body. Cirilla quickly closes her mind off to the other mage, closing off all her secrets and knowledge, only allowing her to explore her body from the inside out. Tissaia is not a woman who should know anything about what Cirilla knows. That is a truth that cannot be denied.The power closes in on her eyes, and Ciri pushes her fingers down into Alexei's fur. It aches, she feels sick as the pressure doesn't ease, it gets worse and worse and deeper and deeper until Ciri has to yank her head backwards, retching as a horrible migraine settles.She hurls, feeling her wolf leap off of ber lap and begin to bark loudly. Her vomit hits a receptacle, she doesn't give a shit about who put it there or when, only that her head really hurts and she's loosing her lunch. Yennefer and Geralt rush over, Geralt holds her shoulders, Yen grabs her hair from her face. The wolf barks, and Ciri vomits."You shouldn't have done that." Tissaia's voice is cool, calm, not bothered at all by the vomiting girl.Ciri flips her middle finger at the mage, continuing to sick up until her stomach is empty and Yennefer's cool magic soothes the pain in her head."Shh, you're alright." Yen whispers as she two of them oush her back onto her chair slowly. Ciri spits into the bucket, taking cold water into her mouth from a bronze cup, swishing it in her mouth, before spitting. She blows her nose into a tissue, sipping the water with shaking hands."Don't you ever do that again." Ciri hisses, her ring tapping rapidly against the cold bronze with his much her hand shakes. "Well? Did you find anything? Find what you can't fix?""Your eyes are disastrously injured, Cirilla.""Obviously. I'm fucking blind.""Give me a day to analyse, I will send for the maester to help us figure out how we can heal you. We are not giving up, Cirilla." Tissaia tells her, straightening up."Why are you being decent to me? You've always been a bitch." She hisses, reaching with her other hand for her wolf. She finally touches his ear, and she taps his head and lowers her hand. The wolf sits."You are Yennefer's child. And Yennefer is as close to a child of mine as you could get. And I hold some responsibility for your condition, with my association with Vilgefortz. It is my responsibility to heal you both, and I have healed Yennefer. Now, I will heal you.""Tissaia, there's three other mages doing this, too. Don't take all the credit." Yen huffs, pulling blonde hair away from Ciri's face. "Keep drinking that, girl. I'll send for salted crackers." She walks off. "Triss, with me. We have a safe house to find."~\~Ciri jumps as screams suddenly echo in the hallways. She scrambled up to her feet, Alexei beginning to bark and growl and pull against his harness. Ciri's shoulder begins to ache with the strain, and she reaches out for Geralt, catching his large bicep.She's pulled backwards, the handle slipping from her hand as Geralt surges forward. The handle is returned to her, the wolf growling as he's wrestled backwards, and Ciri feels small hands grabbing her, pulling her behind a skinny body."Soldiers! Solders! Nilfguaard!" A woman cries out as she runs."Fuck." Geralt grunts.Yennefer turns Ciri to her, and the girl feels the cool magic around her."I've charmed your hair, your eyes and your skin. You're red haired, dark eyed and freckled. Don't tell them who you are." Yen hisses as they begin to hear the marching of soldiers coming closet and closer. Ciri tenses.The door opens, and she smells cinnamon and tea. Nenneke."Here, here is the girl you speak of. The blind resident here." Her deep voice says, and she inhales slowly.Ciri smells sweat and metal as heavy bootsteps come over to her."Geralt, Yennefer, out of the way. The soldiers just want to see if a rumour is true." Nenneke says. Ciri grips tighter to the handlebar, and she breathes slowly as both guardians make way for the lead soldier.It is not the black Knight, she is safe.Alexei growls loudly at rhe approaching man, and the man just sniffs at him, before coming close. She can smell the ale on his breath, cheap and shitty."You're blind?"The nilfgaardian accent is thick.Ciri answers in old high Skelligan, a tounge Mouseack and Eist had taught her."Indeed, sir." her accent is thick, she rolls the syllables, and can taste her guardians surprise.She gasps as a manacled hand grabs a large handful of her apparent red hair and pulls her forward, cranes her neck back. Alexei howls, and Ciri forces herself to let go of the handle.'Take him' she thinks. Thankfully, Yennefer is listening to her thoughts, and she smells the Axii in the air as her wolf is overtaken by the witchers will. It will do no good if this man is eaten by the wolf, people will talk, and they cannot let it happen."Hey, hey!" She hears her guardians say, it's surprising to her that it's only been a moment since she was grabbed."It's alright." Nenneke says. "The soldier just wants to see if Matilda tells the truth about her condition."Ciri inhales as she hears a blade ring, and skate against her eyelashes. She forces herself to relax, not to retaliate, not to do anything."Two eyes." He whispers, his face is closer now. "Two dark eyes, that have no use."It seems her not blinking has helped."You know what this is?""No, sir." she answers in skelligan again."No use." He whispers. "Your name is Matilda?""Yes, sir.""And you're from the Isles?""I am, sir.""Why are you here, if you hail from the north?""My father was the brother of the old Cintran druid. He was killed in the slaughter, I was found by a kind Nilfguaardian woman, who took pity on a helpless orphan, and gave me sanctuary with her on her horses, and took me here." she explains, deliberately thickening the accent and her pronunciation, leaning into the hand that held her hair in a right grip."Helpless orphan is correct. No meat on you, girl."Ciri swallows bile as the blade goes away and a hand skates down her body. She makes herself breathe, doesn't pull away."Useless." He whispers, before pushing her away. Ciri makes herself fumble, tripping herself on a chairleg as she sinks to the ground in an elaborate, clumsy display. "She is not the Emperor's daughter. The rumours are wrong. We will leave, madame priestess."Ciri's head spins as she remains on the floor.The Emperors daughter?

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"The daughter of the emperor." Ciri says, one hand wrapped around a clear cup, the other sliding through Alexei's fur. "What did he mean?" She asks, not even bothering to look up from the heat of her right hand. "That's a rediculous presumption. Everybody knows Duny was my father, and he died in a shipwreck with my mother when I was five. But Nilfguaard has always been looking for me, always tried to find girls with light hair and green eyes, only to find out Ehmyr is looking for his daughter. Its not me, it can't be." She's rambling, an uncharacteristic show of nerves, she hasn't done it since that night in Kaer Morhen with the dancing whores."Think about it." Yennefer is quiet. "I may not have been the Cintran mage at the time-""There wasn't one. There never was one, at least as long as I've been alive.""Well, be that as it may, I was not there at the time. But I know that neither of your parents-" she says the word strangely, and it confuses Ciri. "had their bodies found or removed from the water to be buried. It wouldn't surprise me that that knobhead had pulled some shit and he to have been Duny.""And we've never figured out why Nilfguaard wants you. We've always thought that it was because of your power, maybe your blood connection to Calanthe. But neither of those things make sense timewise, your power did not show itself until after Nilfguaard attacked. And why would he want you if he took the Cintran throne by force anyhow? And he knew where you were, you could have been bloodtracked." Geralt continues. Ciri can't remember him having spoken so much in the almost two years having known him. "As much as Yen and I hate it, he may be your blood father. And he may have a claim to you.""What the fuck use can I be to anybody right now? I may have powers, I may train with you and Yennefer, but I'm completely fucking blind, Geralt. I can't see anything from morning to night, what use can I be to anybody, especially them?" Ciri asks, running her fingers down the wolf's fur. It's soft, the new scholars had given him a bath yesterday, and he smells lovely. "Well, I suppose we need to find out if it's true."Geralt humms. Ciri knows the two of them share a look. At what, because of what? Do they plan to sneak off for bedsport, do the two almost parents grieve that there has been four in their steads already? Do they not want to go to Nilfguaard?"Well, I can't go. I can't see, and I have a wolf on harness that goes with me wherever I go. I'm not exactly incognito. So it's got to be one of you.""We're not going to let you go anywhere, Cirilla. You're toi valuable to put you into the lions jaws. Too precious to us." Geralt rumbles. She rolls her eyes."Bullshit. So, which one of you is it going to be? Or are you going to rope a poor scholar to play spy.""It's not bullshit, Cirilla. We may not have been the best guardians, but we love and care for you and want to protect you from harm." Yennefer replies. She gets up, Ciri can hear the rustle of her silk skirts as she walks over towards her. "You're extraordinary, and I will find a way to restore your sight, one way or another." Her hands are warm as she pushes Ciri's hair behind her ears and cups her face, tilting it upwards."And how do you plan on doing that? We've been trying for weeks, nothing works.""I'm going to be leaving tomorrow. I'm going to meet up with some old schoolmates, mages. Damn powerful ones that could help us with your eyes. They don't and will not know that I have you in my care, and you're going to stay here with Geralt, he's going to protect you. They think I've been staying here and a ten-a-coin scholar girl has caught my attention and im helping her. Triss and Tissaia and Istredd are bound to secrecy about you.""Yen, how does that help us about Nilfguaard, Ehmyr?" Geralt comes close, and Ciri's face is released as the two of them talk. "Say you heal her, then what? We're back ti where we were before Thanedd. Only this time, she's resentful of us.""Rightly so." Ciri scoffed."Be that as it may, how does that help Ciri?""I'll portal to Oxenfurt on my way. We need somebody innocuous, who still publicly hates you. Somebody who can blend into a court without anybody batting an eye.""Jaskier." The two of them say at the same time.Ciri forgot about him. "What happened to him after Thanedd?" All she cared about was his own abandonment."I don't really know. We haven't had a lot of encounters over the year here. He was entangled with Radovid of Redania for a while, but that went to shit when he became king. I think he's just been doing his bard performances, his sandpiper gig on the side. But I'm sure he could help get some information, he was there with you that night, wasn't he, Geralt?""He was. He saw Duny with his own eyes, and his change from the hedgehog to the Prince.""Brilliant, and he's a viscount in his own right, so he's noble. Would be let into court, get a glimpse of the man. And he can tell us if it's true or not. And we go from there.""Do you think she knew?" Ciri's voice is deep, low. They both turn to her. "My mother, do you think she knew about him, about who he really was?""I don't know, Ciri." Geralt's voice is soft."And-and the attack, that was Nilfguaard. Nilfguaard killed my grandparents, Calanthe, Eist, they got to Mouseack and Dain and Anok and all those people in the camps. They were taken by them, and all this time, it was my father?" Ciri's voice grows in volume as her eyes fill with tears. It feels strange with her still unhealed injuries. She gets up and begins to pace, Alexei at heel. "The black Knight, he wears the Nilfguaardian uniform, so that was him as well, wasn't is? I was hunted by them for weeks on the road alone, had to run and go hungry because of them. I-I saw an entire refugee field be raised to the ground because of them, and the city burned and-" her voice breaksGeralt walks towards her, and she's incased within strong arms before she can think what he's going to do next. He smells nice, of soap and mint and leaves. No more endorphins or sweat or sex, at least not for now."I'm sorry, girl. I didn't think our answers would be this."Ciri exhales. "Everything leads back to him, doesn't it? The black Knight, the slaughter, Vilgefortz, the hunting, all the people who died. Its all because of him, isn't it?""It seems so." He strokes her hair as if she's the wolf Ciri has in her companionship. "We're with you, girl. Always."~\~"I'm exhausted." Ciri complains, her palms are sweaty and she struggles to keep ahold of her training sword. The air is thick with late summer musk, and she hates breathing it in."You can't call yourself a witcher if you can't swing a sword for even an hour." Geralt teases, and Ciri tries her best to bite back the venom she aches to release. He doesnt deserve bitterness noe that his bedmate has gone.It's been three days since Yennefer left, and they've spent most of the time training with the sword and Geralt helping her read those funny bumpy papers and translate written words into them.He asked her why she kept going on with her bumpy papers and funny machine that made strange noises when it created the parchment.She had told him that although she would love for her vision to come back, she has little hope of any mage reviving her sight. If she couldn't manage it, if Yen or Tissaia and the combined foursome couldn't figure it out, what hope did some vain, bitchy, self obsessed aretuzan graduate mages have? It was better to train for the bad outcome than hope for the better.Besides, he's still making her train with swordplay while she's completely blind, so he doesn't really get an excuse to complain about her hours training with her bumpy parchment and funny machine."We've been through this before, we don't belittle your brothers' sacrifices by telling me I'm a witcher." Ciri huffs, reaching out to the wall until she finds her water pitcher and pours a large glass, one finger dipped deep into the glass to measure how full it would be without spilling.She gulps the cold water sown, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead and wet lips once she brings the water cup away. She hears Geralt coming over, his feet squelching against the slightly damp ground."Ready to go again?" He asks, touching her abdomen with the hilt of her sword. Ciri huffs with an amused chuckle, wrapping her hand around the hilt, the other stroking her wolf's fur."He's warm, they need to have another ice box sent up for him." She comments. "And he needs water."She pours the water into the bowl they've set up for him, continuing to pournuntil she hears the sloshing of the water against the brick where Alexei sits."Feeling better now?" The witcher asks, helping her up off the wall and standing her straight."A bit.""Good, then you can swing at me for a while longer." He says. "Nenneke says they have a new shipment of harvest berries and honey, apparently there's going to be Redanian wine, too. Dinner's going to be chicken in a spiced sauce with rice and vegetables.""Lovely." She says. "Any word from Jaskier?" She asks, as he gets in position, and she raises her own sword to meet him."Not as of yet. We're going to see Yen before we'll hear of Jask." He says. Ciri nods, inhaling deeply as she tries to figure out where he is and where he will come from the groan of his leathers and the rustle of his cotton shirt that Nenneke had made for him several times over, swatting him at the state of his other shirts."Alright." She whispers, before narrowly blocking a swing to her right side."Come on, witchers, fight!" He laughs.

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Cirilla is exhausted. She didn't think it was possible for her to be so tired after everything with her sight, but this is another level of tiredness. The maesters of the temple had told her that since she would now be using so much more energy compared to before, she would sleep better, longer. Well, they were wrong.She's been moved along from the temple. It's been a while since it happened, when she and Alexei had to make themselves scarse for almost two days while the witcher and the mage and the young scholars had packed up all of their belongings, and the blind girl had been made to keep a portal open for hours as they moved boxes and bags and furniture from one place another.That night, Ciri had slept from dusk to dawn that night, the magic had exhausted her that much. She hadn't even eaten dinner or breakfast, her body had been drained of so much energy after using magic for the first time in weeks. It had been Alexei to stir her, the pretty wolf had jumped onto her, barking and laying all his weight onto her to stir his mistress from the deep, magical sleep.They won't be staying here for very long, Geralt had told her. It's just to keep Nilfguaard away from their heels, especially after the news that Ehmyr var Emrys had been claiming to be her father. And with the soldiers paying them a visit, the witcher was keen to keep his almost daughter as far away from her persuiers as possible.Geralt and Yennefer were meeting today, and Ciri had almost retched with the knowledge. Geralt had laughed at her, ruffling his wards hair as he drinks his hot coffee.She doesn't have the best coordination with her blindness yet, it's difficult to eat anything with a sauce or with cutlery, so she eats her bread and butter, winter berries and cold potatoes with her fingers, the wolf on her lap as she speaks to the other one."Gross." She grumbled."Not like that, she's not even coming back here, I'm only going to see her for a few minutes." His voice is gruff from the amount of food he has eaten. "We're just going to speak with Jaskier to find out what they've learned from word around the continent, see if Ehmyr is who he says he is. And then I'll come back here to be with you."Ciri bites back the snotty retort that she definitely would have said immediately post blindness, but now she is older and she has adapted to her situation with her wolf, she wants to be in that place with him where they once were. When they would laugh and joke around and banter and wrestle in Kaer Morhen, when she trusted and loved him, and didn't resent or belittle him.If this was a year ago, she would have sniped that he must be pissed off that he's having to give up time with Yennefer that they would have probably spent fucking, that he must be suffering without the sorceress that he puts above everything and everybody, even over his brothers and child, both of who'm Yennefer has tried to kill or has indirectly lead to the deaths. She would have spat at him that she didn't need him to play father now that she knew where his priorities lay, that the time for that was over the moment he chose which bedside to be upon.But this isn't that time, and she just wants to embrace a good thing as it stands in front of her."Okay." Her voice is soft. "He and I'll practice walking in the woods."It's been a few days since Ciri began to practice her blind steps with constant changes in the trajectory and incline and decline and firmness of the ground and adapting to the obstacles. It was a hard thing to start doing, but she's learned that the hardest things get easier as the time goes on."Okay." Geralt isn't completely genuine in his word, but he does know that he needs to give her independence and autonomy. "Obviously, you're gonna bring him. And he can protect you, but bring your talisman and your dagger. Just in case, monsters and beasts, they're hungry, prowling for the winter.""You, Triss and Yennefer picked this place because there isn't any monsters nearby. Did you forget the day where you came to the temple dripping with mud had Nenneke swatting at you for an hour?"He chuckles, she can feel the noise more than she can hear it. It's a deep noise, and she missed it in those weeks he wasn't there for her."I do." He rumbled. "You can protect yourself, and you've got yourself another protector in him." Ciri can hear the rustle of his cotton shirt as he reaches over to stroke the wolf's fur. "But I worry about the vulnerability.""If you worry that badly, don't go." Ciri shrugs, pressing another couple of berries into her mouth. "But I need to learn to do things alone, just like when you followed me through the killer those first couple times. And I know you won't stay, because you're antsy wanting to know about the emperor and Jaskier and Yennefer."He huffs. "We need to know-""I agree. But I won't be a sitting duck while you find out. You can go, and we'll be okay. I can't do much else apart from walk, you know."Geralt humms. "Alright. But if anything happens, do your whispery thing and I'll come to you, yeah?""Yeah." Ciri reaches blindly, and he takes her hand. His is warn, scarred, calloused and rough, but softened from his months of sitting at bedsides and feeding broths. It's an unusual feel, but she has had to rely on him almost completely for vision, the wolf only able to carry her so far.The rest, she had to learn to trust Geralt for.Geralt gets up, pulling her hand from his as he walks over to the other end of the room, pulling the scabbard over his shoulder and sliding the large sword into it. It rings, the sound echoing in Ciri's ears. She winces, her hand sliding into Alexei's fur to calm herself. She gulps down another mouthful of cranberry juice she and her almost father had spent an evening squelching and smashing the little red berries a few evenings ago."The portal is almost ready." Geralt says, turning around to face her. Ciri wouldn't notice the difference, but she can hear the swoosh of his cape as he turns around, and the noises of the wooden floor against his new leather boots, curtsey of the temple's cobbler."How do you know?" She asks, finishing her breakfast."Can smell the ozone in the air, it's almost ready." He humms, pressing a hand in her hair. "I'm gonna walk a couple miles, so they can't detect you if Yen's being followed. But you stay safe, yes?"I'm not planning on killing myself," Ciri huffs. "When will you be back?""Not long, half a day? There's a plate of the rest of the venison we caught last week, some root vegetables and potatoes for your lunch. And our dinner is simmering on the fireplace if you get hungry before I come back. No cooking, no trying to cut anything, just go for your walk and come back."
"Look at you being the responsible father." Ciri jokes, licking her lips as she finishes her breakfast. "We're just going to walk, alright?"Geralt humms, coming over to stroke her hair like she's the wolf sitting at her own feet. "See you later." And with that, the door closes and the footfalls eventually fall away.Ciri stands up, rolling her neck until it pops, before pulling at both legs until her hips pop."Harness." The girl commands. Alexei hops to attention, she can hear his nails against the floor as he scratches it up while he walks. It's all very domestic, even the way she grabs the thick, ungiving leather and shakes it out until the wolf steps into the harness and Ciri kneels to tighten it against his belly. It's almost like taking Roach and Astoria, but they're in the makeshift barn in the house next to theirs, and the girl knows that Geralt will have a collpition should she decide to leave the safe house Triss and Yennefer had found.She straightens, reaching out for the stiff handlebar, holding it in her left hand as she clicks her tounge."On'n nè và." She commands. The wolf walks confidently. "Door." Ciri says. Alexei stops at the door, and Ciri navigated how to open it. It's not as if the witcher gave her a lot of opportunities to leave the quaint little cottage since they left Nenneke's.They stroll for a few minutes, Ciri practicing how to adapt her foot placement and balance to the rapidly changing footing conditions, not to mention crumbling mole hils and muddy puddles. The wolf seems to enjoy his walk, Geralt having taken him out for a run that morning, and the two of them go through his verbal ques as much as Ciri is able. Alexei cannot guide her to a chair or a door in the middle of a wet forest now, can he? But the wolf can practice his pace and how masters Clayton and Orica wanted him to stop at an obsticle and place his front paws so that his mistress can step over it. And there are plenty of obstacles for them to overcome."Well done." Ciri whispers, stepping over what she assumes to be a fallen tree trunk after the wolf had stopped on top of it. "Good boy." She says, and the wolf keeps step with her. He's a little fast, but Ciri knows it's her issue for being slow, she must learn to balance and trust him.After she had come to the temple with the wolf in towe, Nenneke had sent for her the two masters of the school of the blind near Vizima. She had been greatful for the help in teaching the thankfully tame wolf his new commands. It hadn't taken long, Geralt had helped with casting Axii so the wolf had an easier path to understanding his words, and it was a small mercy that Alexei had claimed her in all the ways she had claimed him the moment she touched him in the woods all those months ago.Ciri inhales slowly, the coldness in her lungs beginning to concern her."Ba de' tonsaire." She whispers, tapping the wolf and turning him around a complete half turn. The air gets colder and she swallows her worry down, licking her lips as she forces herself to walk at a brisk pace. She doesn't want her first thought of what could be causing the chill to be so prominent to be correct, but there is little else she can think it to be."No, no." Ciri whispers, barely managing to keep her footing as she walks across the moss and the squelching mud."Child of the elder blood, daughter of chaos."Ciri shivers, gasping as her knee meets cold, wet mud. She cringes, shivering as the breath runs over the back of her neck. She clamps her eyes shut as if it will do any good at all, pushing her spare hand into the wet mud, clambering to her feet."Join our hunt."Ciri gasps, pushing herself up as the two of them rush through the woods. She doesn't bother looking back, because what good would it do? What's the point of it, when she can't see a damn thing no matter where she looks?Ciri shrieks as she hears a growl near her, and it does not come from Alexei. No, instead it comes from her diagonal right, and she is pulled down by her wolf as a body flies over them both, attacking the ghostly spectre that haunts Cirilla and Alexei both.The magic ceases in the air, the crackling tenseness ceasing. Ciri retches, fumbling blindly for her wolf, the harness having slipped from her hand when he pulled her down.A cold nose snuffles against her face, and she grabs at him in relief, shuddering and shivering, reaching out to grasp at the harness. Only, much to Cirilla's dismay, there is no harness.She gasps, pulling back, fearing that the wolf will snap or snarl or bite, but she gets a rather large shock when she feels a long, thin tounge across the side of her face, cleaning a strip of skin from the mud that had splattered over her face.Honestly, she's less shocked as she would have been if Alexei hadn't came into her life."What is it with wolves and me, all of a sudden?" She whispers, reaching out to run her fingers through the fur, acquainting the subtle differences between this wolf and Alexei's. This new wolf's fur is longer but thinner, and there is no double coat, no shorter fur in the middle of the longer. It's softer too, and she reaches out with her other hand to assure herself of the difference."You're with us now." Ciri decides. "Are you alone, sweet thing?"The wolf doesn't reply, because of course it doesn't, but it snuffles at her face so she takes that as an answer in and of itself."Come on, sweet thing." Ciri whispers, clambering to her feet, using both wolves as help. They stand of a height, these two, and they walk at her sides as the trio make their way towards their makeshift home.They finally managed to get to the challet, and Ciri exhales slowly, her fingers trembling as she undoes the harness the wolf is still attached to. She pulls off her boots and leggings, taking a deep, calming breath as the warmth finally covers her body."Fucking wraiths." She whispers, reaching over to wash her hands in the lukewarm tub of water Geralt had left for her that morning. "What would you possibly want from me?" Ciri questions nobody at all, licking her lips to get rid of the chapped skin.Alexei barks, and Ciri tosses him a scrap of jerky. Poor thing, they need to fatten him up for the winter, but she hopes Geralt will hunt a little more for him on their way back to their home. Ciri sure as shit can't.The girl has managed to calm herself by the time she has washed herself with a flannel, and wore a pair of soft, large cotton trousers and one of Geralt's shirts he had given to her when Nenneke had given him a large box of new clothes after he had rid the temple's forests of a griffin infestation.She sits with her two wolves, running her fingers over the new wolf's fur, acquainting herself to her new boy. He is a boy, she's determined, his bark is low, his growl is deep, and his face is stronger in the ways she knows female wolves are not."I'll call you Ajax." She decides, her hands finally leaving the wolf so he may eat the offel Geralt keeps in the top cupboards for Alexei.Well, she decides, hearing the rather horrid sounds of the wolves eating, Geralt is absolutely going to have to hunt more often now.