#and hehee you know i am 100 percent ok with you pestering me always

[taleswritten]

She doesn't want to fear Chaos, she wants to wield it. To use it to her advantage and protect herself and the ones she loves. She never wants to be the weak meek little girl she had been before meeting Geralt and Yennefer again. She wants to be powerful like both of them.

Powerful like Yennefer with her ability to wield magic like a second skin, unafraid and fearsome. She wants to be like he mama and command Chaos to bend to her will. To face down enemies and laugh at their attempts to scare her and make her feel small.

She wants to be powerful like Geralt with his unflinching ability to shove a sword through any enemy that dares to stand in his way. One day, she will be, she thinks. One day she will be just like the both of them because she has them both to teach her and they will not fail her whereas so many others have. Of that, Ciri has no doubt.

And she takes comfort in that just as she takes comfort in Yennefer's reassurances that she will wield chaos like it was something she was born to do.

"I believe you, Yennefer." Ciri utters in response and she does. She truly does. She believes everything Yennefer is telling her. That one day it will be Chaos who fears her and bends to her will. With Yennefer's guidance, there is no doubt.

It's strange. Any other time and perhaps Ciri would flinch away from such a good touch but tonight it is soothing on her warm skin, skin flush from the nightmares she'd had previously, it feels nice like putting ice on a mending bruise and Ciri even leans into it.

No, she will not be stubborn like Geralt, for Yennefer knows what is best and why would she ever turn down such delectable treats anyway? She is, after all, still a child with a sweet tooth.

She shifts to offer her left hand to Yennefer while with her other she picks up the glass of apple juice and takes a couple of sips before settling on eating some of the fruits and candies. "I'm eating, I'm eating!" A sigh, more of a huff, "You worry too much, I'm not too cold, I swear."

@okruchlodu

Yennefer's fiercely tender, drowning gaze never falters from this child that has somehow become hers, wishing with everything that she has, that she can keep her safe- out of harm's way and alive; guide her hand towards the Chaos that is reaching out to seize her and teach her how to wield it so that she might never have to fear it and what it does to her body - so very small and delicate, riddled with such immensely furious power, Yennefer can scarce believe she has been able to contain it and remain unscathed by its flame.

She gathers her hands in hers, and exhales, breath pooling smoothly between the two of them, the air all around them, so very warm and drenched in her perfumes as she stirs upon the furs that swath her bed, moves closer, gathers her up and hugs her close, those bright, violet eyes always searching, reading the unspoken, the nuance of facial tics and body language, yearning to make sure Ciri feels as safe as she promises she does, not wanting her to suffer in silence for fear of what the enchantress might think of her. It is not weakness that commands her fear; it's neither lack of courage nor spinelessness that traps her in its grip; it is only, lack of control over the Power, that fills her dreams with terror, and floods her mouth with screams; and Yennefer shall do everything within her power and beyond, to make sure, control is once more bestowed upon her: that choice and the freedom that comes with it, is not violently ripped away from her, as it had once been torn from herself. Ciri will not live in the shadows, fearful of her own destiny: she will outrun fate itself and mold the world around her to her liking; she will thrive; Yennefer will make sure of it. Whether or not she remains in the picture, is irrelevant. There is nothing she will not do, nothing she will be stopped by, to make this happen. The price the world might have to pay for Ciri to be free, matters not at all to the sorceress.

The child whispers that she is no longer afraid, she is alright, horror no longer fills her mind, and Yennefer wonders, too, if the words are a mantra in hopes of a manifestation rather than an actuality. ❝ —I know you are... you won't be for much longer. Chaos is extending its hands towards you, still uncertain if you will be its tool or an obstacle in its design. That which Chaos shows you in your dreams is this very uncertainty. Chaos is afraid of you, but it wants you to be the one who fears it, to fill yo with such dread that you will never be able to overcome it. But you will. I will give you the Force and with it you will command that fear and you will make Chaos your tool. Those nightmares that fill your sleep... They are omens meant to consume you, but you will drown them in your fury and you will no longer dream of death. ❞ assures her Yennefer with fierce, furious resolve in her voice, and cradles her very closely, the star hung upon her neck throbbing, pulsating with magic as the spell she's cast to soothe the sting of fear that gnaws at the girl's very heart, thrums, heightens. She will no longer see those terrors in her dreams tonight. And tomorrow, Yennefer will begin giving her the Force in such a way that Chaos will no longer maliciously gnash its teeth at her, fearful of her magic. The magician touched her face. Her hand was as cold as ice but soft and loving. She sighed, a sharp, quick sound, and drew back, looking into those glittering emerald eyes, that sea of green fire. Her heart once more was seized with vicious love for her. ❝ —come now, you need rest and you need something to eat; look at you! so pale... ❞ Yennefer frets over her, voice sharp and breathless as she collects her self-composure and moves to pour Ciri a glass of apple juice that has now been warmed by the fire; some candied, fruit too, cherries, apples and pears, are brought over and Yennefer sits somewhere near her on the bed to make sure she eats, says, ❝ —do not play the stubborn mule like Geralt and eat up; the sugar will do your blood good. heavens your hands are ice! give me your left one. ❞ she commands and reaches for one of her hands, massaging it a little and warming it in hers, despite the natural chill of Yennefer's own skin that never seems to warm.

@taleswritten