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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Frog Princess. Chapter 15

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

It was just dark. And grey. And so cold. Crach had insisted that he should get me a room for the night – being a little vexed by the fact that the witcher had dropped me at his feet; and then, as he’d called it, just buggered off.

But he hadn’t just buggered of. He had left me. He had torn my heart from my chest, and then walked out the door – dropping it in the snow. I was empty. My missing heart was making it so that no blood was pumped though my veins. Only ice water. It was physical pain.

I was laying in the cold bed that had been acquired for me – the barmans own sleeping place when not rented out. Crach and Thorstein had more or less carried me to bed – thinking that it was the mug of mead, from home, lassie!; that had tuckered me out.

I lay looking at the ceiling; hardly even blinking.

I want you to be happy, safe, and content… I couldn’t give you what you want… Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting… I didn’t mean to hurt you…

I hadn’t slept, when dawn broke. Crach tumbled into the room. “Get your ladythings in order, cousin. You’re about to go see your husband”, he smiled.

I inhaled, and was about to speak; but no words came out. I just sat up; as if someone had taken control of my limbs for me, and was carrying me forward.

Stepping out of the tavern, I looked down – surprised not to see the blood-spatter in the snow, from where the witcher had left my heart. I realized it must have been eaten by wild animals; as there was no way it was still inside my body.

Crach put me on his horse behind him; and had to help me wrap my arms around his waist. “Something is wrong with you cousin. Are you unwell?”, he said over his shoulder. “No”, I answered. “I’m… not anything”, I said. “You’re just nervous, lass”, he said. “Marriage is nothing to worry about. Look at me! I’m still the same as before. I know a miller’s daughter you could ask…”. “No”, I simply said. Crach chuckled softly, and led his horse forward.

I put my hand to my neck; searching for my frog – looking for any kind of relief. It was gone. Everything was just… gone.

---

We rode for three days; taking breaks for mead and axe throwing contests. On one of these breaks, the men had had enough of my gloomy demeanor. “Come on, my lady!”, Thorstein said. “You always used to love these!”. I grabbed the axe he handed me; and looked at it in my hand. It was heavy. I should throw this at something, I thought. I looked up and turned around, searching for a target. “We put the mark over there, cousin”, Crach laughed, and turned me by the shoulders; pointing at the piece of cloth they’d fastened to a tree. “Come on, now. Just imagine it’s your future husbands’ cock. I hear he’s a right bastard; and the thought of it might make it easier for you to see him tomorrow”.

Tomorrow. I looked at my cousin, narrowing my eyes; and shook my head. “No”, I said; dropped the axe in the snow, and walked away. “Where are you going?”, he called after me. “Anywhere but here”, I called back, not turning around “Leave her”, I heard Thorstein mutter. “She needs some fresh air it seems”. “There’s nothing but fresh air here”, Crach said. “Leave it, Crach”. The men went back to their doings, and I walked on.

I don’t know how far I walked. I could no longer hear my cousin or his men. All I heard was my feet breaching the surface of the snow. We hadn’t been each other’s. We’d both made that clear. I didn’t want to belong to anyone, and neither did he. But then why did it feel like a part of me was gone? That he had taken it with him; and left this shell? The witcher.

I sat down, leaning against a tree; and then took a deep breath. “Fuck!”, I screamed as loudly as I had ever screamed before. A doe ran through the snow a few yards away; fleeing from the sound. I stood up, turned around, and put my hands on the tree; digging my fingertips into the bark. I scrunched my eyes together.

“Not mine”, I whispered. “Never mine”. I have to take it. “If I want something of my own; I have to take it”. Mine… Mine… My life… “Minn fjor…”.

My fingers began tingling. I heard the bark of the tree crack where my hands were placed; and a warmth spread through my arms – from my fingertips; all the way to my chest – where it built up. The tree – already having shed it’s leaves long ago – became even more bare; it’s bark shedding and turning into dust upon the snow. I felt air fill my lungs – it tasted like fresh dirt; leaves and wood.

Realizing what was happening; I quickly removed my hands from the tree; looking at it with horror. “Út!”, I yelled, and with the word came such force from my chest; that the tree cracked in the middle.

I fell to my bottom; shock at what had just occurred.

I heard horses. “It came from over here!”, someone called. I thought I recognized the voice. “Move, men!”.

I got behind the now dead tree.

“What about the Skelliger party?”, another voice called. “What’s left of Flaxons men will have to take care of them. Now move!”.

Crach! Fuck. What did I get you in to?

I began running in the direction I’d come; trying to stay out of the way of the men who were searching for me. My tracks in the snow would give me away, I knew – but I had to warn my cousin.

I heard horses neighing, and a man screaming. Metal was hitting metal – sword fighting.

Finding the clearing where Crach had been, it was empty. I panicked; scanning my surroundings desperately for any sign of my cousin and his men. “Crach!”, I called out. “Where are you?”.

“Lady Y/N!”, someone called behind me. “I’ve come a long way to see you”.

I turned around. O’Dimm was standing only a few yards from me; a broad smile across his haughty face. “I must say, my lady; you are looking… rough”, he smirked. “Nothing like the lovely lady I met in Kaer Trolde”. “I am not coming with you!”, I shouted “My dear, yes you are”, he smiled. “It’s your destiny. Queen…”. I shook my head. “Not of Nilfgaard”, I said.

O’Dimm walked slowly towards me. “Your cousin, king Eist, he almost had me fooled, with that decoy carriage”, he said. “I sent my men after it, only to have them return with information that in stead of a lady; they’d found an elven whore”. He snarled the word; making me jump at him; and claw at his face. He grabbed my arms; and pushed me to the ground. “There we are, my lady. Just relax now, as we wait for my men to take us back to Nilfgaard”, he said; his warm breath hitting my face. “Don’t worry; I won’t harm you. I’m keeping you pure for your husband; the emperor”. He sniffed at me. “Well, somewhat pure. I can smell the witcher on you”.

I pushed at him; trying to let my knee hit his groin; but he held me down. “I found out you were travelling with him; when one of my men caught up to me in Brugge; letting me know about, how the mutant had attacked them”. “Was that before or after you asked Filivandrel for help?”, I snarled at his smirking face. “It seems you are constantly having to have others do your dirty business!”. He exhaled deeply, letting me smell the sour wine on his breath. “Well, I am handling business now, aren’t I?”, he sneered.

I heart fighting nearby. “O’Dimm!”, someone called. “There’s too many of them!”.

O’Dimm got up; dragging me with him. “Too many?”, he growled. “It’s one bloody witcher. Just take him down!”.

Geralt!

My heart lept. I wrestled against O’Dimms hold; biting his hand – which made him yelp, and let go of me, so that I could stand.

A man in black armor leapt into the clearing. “He’s got friends!”, the voice called back. “They’re…”. His voice disappeared in a rattle; as a sword slid through his chest; making him fall to the ground.

Behind him stood Geralt; face locked in rage.

He sprang into the clearing; and ran towards O’Dimm. The man grabbed my arm, and dragged me in front of him; holding a knife to my throat. “Stop, witcher!”, he yelled. “I will slit her throat!”. “What happened to loyalty to the Usurper?”, I growled. “I treasure my life more”, O’Dimm sneered. Geralt walked forwards slowly. “Let her go”, he growled. O’Dimm’s knife pressed against my neck. “That’s not going to happen”.

Geralts eyes met mine. “The tree”, he said. I frowned, not understanding. “Like the tree, little frog. You can do it”.

My jaw dropped, as I caught his meaning. I lifted my hand to touch the one O’Dimm was holding the knife with. “Minn fjor”, I whispered. “What was that?”, O’Dimm snarled into my ear. “Minn fjor!”, I screamed; and I felt my hand tingling from where I was touching his. It began shaking; and O’Dimm yelped; lowering it, and letting me go.

Geralt sprang forward; and threw O’Dimm to the ground. He raised his sword into the air.

“Geralt, stop!”.

Triss stepped into the clearing. “Leave him!”, she said. “He has to die!”, Geralt growled. “He will never leave her alone!”. Triss shock her head. “Destiny has other plans for him”, she said softly. “Fuck destiny”, Geralt snarled.

I looked at Triss; her eyes were serious. “You cannot do this, Geralt”, she said. “The future has use for him. You cannot change things from what they must be!”.

I understood, then. The war. This one. The next. They were unavoidable; but they needed all their players. I was a player, making decisions that changed the future for many people. But so was O’Dimm. And he needed to make his mark as well. Destiny couldn’t be changed; but it was fleeting. Our choices – my choices – impacted its direction.

I walked over to Geralt, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Geralt?”, I said. “Please…”. He turned his face to look at me; his eyes confused. “Let’s leave this place”, I whispered.

Geralt got off O’Dimm; and stood up, looking into my eyes with such… love. “You… I have to take care of you. Protect you”, he said. I wrapped my arms around him. “Then take me away from here”. Geralt put his arms around me; and kissed the top of my head. “Come”, he said; and stepped away from me, whistling for Roach. O’Dimm was standing behind him, with a furious expression on his face. In his hand was his knife; raised, to strike at Geralts back.

No! You can’t take him from me! I raised my hand towards O’Dimm, and screamed. “Út!”. A force – the force I had just taken from the man himself – came from my chest, and out through my hand; knocking O’Dimm to the ground.

Geralt turned, and stared at O’Dimm, and then turned his face to me – eyes wide. “You should probably leave this place, O’Dimm”, Triss said coldly. “Before someone decides to take destiny in to their hands”. She turned to Geralt and me. “Get away from here. Go where I showed you, Geralt”.

Roach had trotted into the clearing, and we got on her; me behind Geralts back. We took off into the forest.

---

We rode for a short while; the sun setting over the trees.

Arriving at a mound; Geralt helped me off Roach, and walked up to the mossy and snow-covered rock-wall. He lifted some roots hanging down it; revealing the entrance of a cave. “In here”, the witcher mumbled. I followed him inside.

It was dimly lit by a few candles, and a small fire in the middle. A chest set against the wall; and a collection of blankets and pillows made out the rest of this makeshift, temporary home.

I fell to my knees in front of the fire; warming my hands. Geralt stood with his back to the wall. “Y/N…”, he began.

A gush of wind came from the entrance of the cave; and Triss stepped in, walking up to the fire to sit next to me. “Your highness… You weren’t careful”, she chided with a kind voice “I didn’t know”, I whispered. “No”, she said. “You didn’t”. “I think; I can only do it when my heart is in true pain”, I said. I heard Geralts breath hitch. “No, you can always do it”, Triss said. “But you haven’t learnt how to use it”. She took my hand. “I would like to train with you – once you’re in Vizima”.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to be a sorceress…”. “No, and you won’t be”, she said. “But… you have to learn to control it. What happened today is exactly what Nilfgaard wants”. Geralt groaned. “But she’s not going to Nilfgaard”, he said. “Still”, Triss continued. “This power… would we want it in the hands of Foltest? Or Calanthe for that matter?”. Geralt frowned and grunted. Triss turned to me again. “I want to help you, if you’ll let me”, she said. I nodded and half-smiled at my new friend.

Triss looked from Geralt to me. “I’ve let your cousin know, that the witcher will take you the rest of the way”, she said. I suddenly remembered. “Crach!”, I said. “He’s fine”, Geralt muttered. “Flaxon and O’Dimms men were still hurt from their fight with the wolves”. “And they had a witchers help”, Triss smirked. I gazed up at Geralt, who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Triss squeezed my hand. “Finish this journey”, she whispered. She walked out of the cave, letting moss and roots cover the entrance.

We were silent for a long time.

“I was there. I was always there, just out of sight”, the witcher suddenly said. “I wanted you safe… and I couldn’t let you go”. “But you did”, I whispered. “To me, you did. I couldn’t feel you near. I was alone”. Geralt looked at the ground in front of him. “I saw the pain. I could see it was worse than that night in Maribor”. “And did you feel it too?”, I whispered. “I did”, he said. “And I wanted it. Deserved it”.

I sighed; too drained to cry. “It wasn’t supposed to end like that”, I said. “We agreed…”. “It was always going to end in pain”, Geralt said. “If we ever thought differently, we were lying to ourselves”. I looked down. “I know”, I said. “But… together. We were supposed to end it together. You decided without me, that it was time”.

He sat down next to me; not coming too close, to give me room. “I’m sorry…”, he said. “I thought it would be easier…”. “For who?”, I said, clenching my jaw. “Me? Or you?”. He grimaced. “I was selfish…”, he said. “I thought breaking your heart like that would make it better – more simple. That I wouldn’t have to face a real goodbye. In Vizima”. “You didn’t just break it”, I whispered. “You took it with you. I just thought you’d thrown it in the snow as you walked away”.

He fiddled with something around his neck; and pulled out a silver chain – with a frog pendant. My frog. “I would never do that. It was next to my own heart the whole time”.

I sighed; and turned my body to face him full on. “Then give it back”. He frowned and exhaled deeply. Carefully he slid the chain around my neck, and closed the clutch under my hair.

He put his forehead to mine. “If you hate me…”. “I don’t”, I said. “Please, just kiss me”. He put both his hands on either side of my face; leant in; and gently let his lips meet mine.

Some time later, I was naked; covered in blankets; and resting against the chest of the bearer of my heart.

“You never told me… what did Eist pay you to travel with me?”, I said. “Protection”, he muttered. “Of my… child”. I smiled. “You will see it someday”, I said. He grumbled. “And you get nothing else?”, I asked. “I’ve gotten plenty”, he said; and looked down at me. “It wasn’t part of the contract… but no less valuable”.

I fell asleep – my ear pressed against his chest; listening to the slow beating of his heart.

---

The next day, we rode for Vizima. There should have been a solemn quiet between us; but we spoke – desperately clinging on to the sounds of each other’s voices. I sat with my back to his chest; for comfort and warmth – and so he could smell my hair whenever he wanted.

“Little frog”, he’d say, as he drew in the scent of my locks. “Wolf”, I’d answer, as the tingling of his warm breath made me giggle.

We didn’t speak about anything from before we’d met, or what would happen after. We focused on our own journey; what we’d seen, who we’d come to know - how many times we’d kissed; which Geralt found wasn’t enough; so I almost fell of Roach, when he suddenly tipped me to the side to meet my lips. “I won’t let you fall”, he’d said; and stroked my cheek as he kissed me.

I spoke about my mushroom stew, trying to teach him the recipe. He distracted me by talking about how beautiful my face was when I’d come undone with him inside me. That had led to a stirring neither of us could ignore - and luckily there were trees around.

“Little frog”, he’d groaned; as he gently thrust in to me, while holding me to his chest against the treetrunk. “Wolf”, I’d cry out; as I held on to him for dear life, while exploding in extasy.

It was our last hours together that day - and we made everything of them that we could.

Once we made it to the drawbridge of the city gates; Geralt got of Roach’s back; and lifted me down to join him on the ground.

“I’m going to walk you through those gates now”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “The journey will be over”. I smiled at him. “You have others to begin”, I said. “So do you, your majesty”, he smiled.

He took my hand; and led me into the city.

I was greeted by a murmur of voices. “It’s her!”, I kept hearing over and over. “The queen!”. Geralt never let go of my hand; holding it up as a knight would a dancing partner. “This is weird”, I whispered. “You’re telling me!”, he murmured back.

There was a blaring of horns, as we walked down the street towards the castle gates. They were opened, and on the other side stood a large following of guards in their best armor; and him. Foltest.

Geralt and I walked forward – my breath catching. “Last chance, little frog”, he murmured. “I can put you on Roach, and get you out of this city, right now”. I took a deep breath. “Is that any way to end this journey?”, I said. “Hand me over, witcher. You have a contract”. I saw him smile sadly out of the corner of my eye.

We reached the gates; walked through – and Geralt placed my hand in Foltests outstretched one. As his hand left mine; I heard him exhale – as if he was letting go of life itself.

“My lady”, Foltest said. “Welcome to Vizima”. “Your majesty”, I whispered. “I see your escort has brought you to me unscathed”, the king said. “You should say your goodbyes. We have a wedding feast to attend”. I let out a breath and nodded.

Geralt was standing with Roach a few paces back. I walked up to him; desperately wanting to touch him – but I knew it wasn’t a possibility.

He looked at me with a somber smile, and began to walk away. “Witcher!”, I called after him; my voice breaking. He stopped; and turned to face me. “Foltest told me once; that he envied me; to live – and never have to fall in love”. He exhaled and looked deep into my eyes. “He was wrong”.

He saddled on to Roach; turned her around; and rode away – not looking back.

---

Stay tuned! There will be an epilogue.

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

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sleepyxcoffee · 4 years ago

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@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Ice skating Title (optional): Ciri on Ice Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Ciri/Cerys, Geralt/Jaskier Rating: G Content Warnings: none Summary: Ciri is the daughter of the pride of Redania and Kaedwen’s White Wolf, and the champion of Cintra.

Thank you to locktea for helping with worldbuilding!

Competitions were always thrilling. Ciri knew some skaters dreaded them, but she and Cerys thrived off them. There was just something about hearing the crowd go wild, the weight of the judges’ eyes, the pounding of her heart, which gave Ciri an incomparable rush.

That particular year, the World Championship was held in Cerys’ home country of Skellige, and Ciri found the air unbearably cold - something that amused her fathers to no end. “You’re a figure skater, Ciri, you should enjoy the cold,” Papa would say, while Dad sighed and shook his head and told her she’d be warmer if she had a proper coat.

While Worlds was always the highlight of her year, there was something even more exciting that time around. Ciri had been to Skellige before, of course, both during and off season, but this was the first time she was competing against her girlfriend on Cerys’ home turf, and it excited Ciri to no end. She could hardly stay still on the plane, bouncing nonstop, much to Dad’s chagrin.

“Ciri,” he groused as she kneed him for the third time in five minutes, “stay still.”

“You can’t blame her, Geralt,” Papa scolded. “She’s seeing her girlfriend!” Dad groaned and buried his head in his arms. He hated being reminded that Ciri had a girlfriend.

“Yeah, Dad,” Ciri added. “I haven’t seen Cerys since the Grand Prix Final in December.”

“See, dear? Ciri has every right to be excited.” Dad rolled his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Jaskier.” Papa blew Dad a kiss, which made Ciri groan and plug in her earphones. She might be seventeen, but that did not mean she had grown any less disgusted by her parents’ public displays of affection.

Ciri and her fathers were greeted by the exuberant an Craites at Skellige International Airport. Ciri caught sight of Cerys’ distinctive red hair bobbing in a sea of people first, and she immediately abandoned her parents in favour of sprinting down the corridor and out the door, past a very surprised security guard. “Careful, Ciri!” Dad called. “You’ll sprain your ankle!”

Naturally, Ciri ignored him in favour of leaping into Cerys’ arms.

“Ciri!” Cerys exclaimed in delight, wrapping her arms around the taller skater.

“Cerys!” Ciri took a moment to bask in Cerys’ embrace, and then waved at Cerys’ family. Standing several feet away were Crach an Craite and Hjalmar an Craite - a renowned hockey coach and a rising player respectively, but, more importantly, Cerys’ father and brother. They waved back at Ciri, and Crach stepped around them to shake her fathers’ hands.

“Jaskier Pankratz and Geralt Rivia, as I live and breathe!” Crach boomed. Dad chuckled and clapped Crach on the shoulder.

“It’s been too long, Crach. I hope your Cerys is in top form - Ciri certainly is.”

Ciri whined and elbowed him. “Dad!”

“You are, Ciri, and there’s no point in hiding that,” Papa chipped in unhelpfully. Ciri only rolled her eyes and linked her arm with Cerys’.

“Will you take me to the skate rink?” Ciri asked quietly.

Cerys beamed at her. “It would be my pleasure, Ciri.”

Ciri felt her heart flutter, and her parents promptly ruined it by opening their mouths. “How’re your programs coming along, Cerys?” Dad asked, and the next five minutes delved into meaningless figure skating and ice hockey small talk that Ciri tried to, unsuccessfully, shut down several times before her parents and Crach finally decided there had been enough small talk, and deigned to ask the girls what their plans were.

“Can I go to the rink with Cerys?” Ciri asked, and it then delved into a ten minute discussion that went in circles about whether it was a good idea for Ciri to go gallivanting off two days before a competition, whether Dad and Papa were alright with bringing her bags, if Hjalmar would join, et cetera. Cerys rolled her eyes dramatically, making Ciri giggle.

Once Ciri had successfully shoved her luggage at her parents and promised them, five times, that she wouldn’t try any jumps, they finally allowed her to get on the train with Cerys and head to the skate rink.

“I’m not supervising these lovely ladies on their date,” Crach said, much to Ciri and Cerys’ mutual embarrassment.

“Promise you won’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Papa called at Ciri as she and Cerys skipped away from their families. Crach had kindly offered to drive the Rivia-Pankratzes to their hotel, and Hjalmar was tagging along to be dropped off at his friend Skjall’s along the way (who, coincidentally, Ciri had gone on one date with before they mutually agreed they were better off seeing other people).

“There’s not much that falls under that umbrella,” Ciri shot back. Dad chuckled as Papa spluttered in horror. Before they could say anything else, Ciri grabbed Cerys’ arm, and they ran off to the station, giggling.

“Your parents are nice,” Cerys said to Ciri as they stood on the platform awaiting their train. Their hands were linked, and Cerys was tucked comfortably against Ciri’s side.

“Mhm. Gets a bit hard sometimes, though, being the daughter of figure skating’s power couple.”

Cerys hummed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Ciri’s hair. “I can imagine. Both gold medal Olympians with more world titles combined than I have fingers.”

Ciri nodded, burying her face in Cerys’ soft red hair. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be as great as them,” she admitted. “Everyone expects me to be just as great as they are. You know, my uncles Eskel and Lambert stopped hoping for first place once Dad and Papa really got going. They started vying for silver instead.” Cerys chuckled.

“Really? Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re just as good as they are.” Blushing, Ciri turned her head away. Cerys laughed and reached up to cup her cheek, turning her face back at her. “Hey, you are! Maybe your scores aren’t as high as theirs, but that’s the ladies’ skate for you. Besides, you’re the free skate world record holder, and that’s nothing to laugh at.”

There was nothing but admiration in Cerys’ voice - not even the slightest hint of envy. On ice, Ciri and Cerys may have been rivals, but off it they were girlfriends, nothing more. Cerys was far too good of a sport to let their careers leak into their personal lives.

“You say that like you’re not the only lady to have ever landed a quad Lutz in competition,” Ciri said good-naturedly. It was Cerys’ signature jump - ever since she had first landed it in her first year as a senior skater, she had managed to incorporate it into every single one of her skates since.

It was Cerys’ turn to blush. “Look, there’s our train,” she said. Moving away from Ciri, she kept hold of her hand and guided her onto the train. It was packed full - with Worlds only two days away, the small city of Kaer Trolde on Ard Skellig was full of skaters, their entourages, and sports fans alike.

“Look, it’s Rivia and an Craite,” someone on the train whispered. Embarrassed, Ciri turned her head and put up the hood of her coat. She wormed her hand out of Cerys’, who looked crestfallen for a moment before putting up her own hood. They stood there in awkward silence until the train reached their stop, and then Cerys tapped Ciri’s hand lightly to let Ciri know it was time to get off the train.

Skating with Cerys was always fun. Even though neither was allowed to jump without supervision, they sped around the rink, spinning and practising step sequences. Cerys made the mistake of challenging Ciri to see who could perform a faster shoot-the-duck spin - she fell over after trying to outpace Ciri. While Cerys’ jumps were admired by judges for their height and form, Ciri was known for her spins.

Cerys skated up to Ciri and threw her arms around her shoulders. Laughing, Ciri returned Cerys’ hug, and they allowed themselves to skate in small circles, wrapped up in each other. Ciri let herself sink into Cerys’ warm, comforting scent, and closed her eyes. It was as though nothing else mattered.

Then she heard one of Cerys’ rinkmates’ voice. “Hey, who’s that with Cerys?” he said.

“I know that hair - is that Cirilla Rivia?” Stiffening, Ciri pulled back and turned away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Cerys’ expression fall.

“We should go,” Ciri said awkwardly, skating to the gate. “My dads will want me back.”

“Alright,” Cerys said quietly. It broke something in Ciri to hear Cerys sound so fallen - she was meant to be bright and warm and full of energy. Ciri took the thought and forcibly shoved it away. She was Ciri Rivia, daughter of the pride of Redania and Kaedwen’s White Wolf. She was Cintra’s champion, and she was stronger than this.

***

“Papa,” Ciri said to her father later that night, “how did you and Dad do it?”

“Do what, sweetheart? You’re going to have to be more specific,” Papa said as he plaited her hair.

Ciri gestured broadly. “Do all… this. Dating, while figure skating. You were rivals. Didn’t people talk?”

“Of course they did, but that’s what people do,” Papa replied. He produced a scrunchie from his pocket and tied off her fishtail braid. “There you go.”

“Trouble in paradise?” came Dad’s rumbling voice. He was leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, hair twisted in a towel and dressed in light grey pyjamas. Whenever Papa and Dad fought, all Papa had to do was threaten to post a picture of Dad after his showers to Instagram, and Dad would be on his knees begging for forgiveness.

“\It seems so,” Papa said lightly.

Dad walked over to his family and sat on the bed next to Ciri, wrapping an arm around her. Papa cleared his throat, and, stifling a smile, Dad placed a kiss on his cheek with a smile. Ciri pretended to gag.

“What’s going on, Ciri?” Dad asked.

Ciri shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s just… well, when people see me and Cerys, they talk. ‘Isn’t that Rivia and an Craite?’, they say.”

Papa bristled. “Who’s been talking about my daughter? Let me at them!” he cried overdramatically. Dad rolled his eyes.

“Ignore your Papa. People will talk, Ciri, and there’s nothing you can do about that. What you can do, on the other hand, is lift yourself up. Don’t listen to them,” Dad said.

“But I did,” Ciri groaned. “And I think I hurt Cerys, because she probably thinks I’m ashamed of her now.”

“Change one of your jumps to her quad Lutz,” Papa said jokingly. “It’s how your Dad proposed to be - by changing his last jump to a quad flip.” Ciri groaned. Now that was a story Ciri had heard far too many times.

“Don’t encourage her,” Dad admonished, but Papa’s words set Ciri thinking. She had never landed a quad lutz before, and she didn’t want to try in competition. Changing her double axel to a triple lutz, on the other hand…

Ciri didn’t see Cerys all of the next day - they had booked the rink at different times, and what time they spent not skating, their coaches (and fathers) filled with pre-competition exercises. Dad was a firm believer in hard work, and it showed. Ciri managed to send all of one Snapchat to Cerys, and Cerys managed to send one back.

They spent supper with their respective clubs. Dad and the other coaches for the Cintran team spent half an hour debating whether a steakhouse or barbecue was more suitable for the supper before the short program, ignoring Ciri and Dara’s protests that they were more or less the same thing.

“Let him,” Papa advised in an amused tone. “It’s how he works off his jitters.”

“He’s not even competing and he’s more nervous than I am,” Ciri grumbled. Next to her, Dara continued to pace in circles, muttering his entire skate program. While Ciri was blessed with nerves of steel, Dara was not.

“Triple Axel, double toe loop - Ciri, what if I over rotate - combination spin - maybe I should have left out the Biellmann - it’s not like most men do it after all -”

“Dara,” Ciri said, a hint of irritation bleeding into her voice, “calm down.” Dara shot her a glare, but stopped speaking. “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dara mumbled. “You’re the champion of Cintra. I’m just another figure skater.”

Ciri frowned. “You’re not just another figure skater. If you were, you wouldn’t be at Worlds,” she pointed out.

In front of her, Dad and the other coaches finally finished their squabbling and broke away. “Listen up, kids,” Dad announced, and the ten or so skaters who had come with them put down their phones to face him. “Steakhouse it is. Now, you know the rules - nothing less than a medium rare - we don’t want any upset stomachs before Worlds - nothing you haven’t tried before, especially you, ladies, since you’re in tomorrow - we don’t want a repeat of the Rostelecom Cup incident -” at this, Rosa Attre cringed, and her coach Mousesack gave her a sympathetic look.

Dad continued to list off his various terms and conditions, ending with, “and if a single one of you breaks these, it’s back to the hotel with bread and tomato soup for you all.” Only then did he finally allow the increasingly antsy congregation of skaters in the hotel lobby to bundle up in their coats and walk out the front door. Dad and Mousesack took the lead, discussing how quads were destroying young skaters’ knees, while Papa and some other adults made up the back of their little party.

Ciri’s phone pinged with a notification, and she opened it to see a Snap from Cerys. She tapped on it, and Cerys’s face popped up on the screen. She was standing next to Hjalmar, and in the background was Birna Bran arguing with a red-faced Lugos Drummond. Both an Craites looked distinctly bored.

birna and lugos can’t decide where to take the team for dinner, said Cerys’ message. A few moments later, another message came through. This time it was just Hjalmar, looking mock-annoyed while Cerys grasped for her phone behind him.

Shouldve stayed w the hockey team, the picture was captioned. Ciri muffled a smile behind her scarf. She took a selfie and sent it to Cerys.

we’re having steak for dinner!! she wrote.

“Ciri,” Papa called. “Get off your phone!”

Scowling, Ciri tucked her phone into her coat pocket. “Yes, Papa,” she shouted back.

It was a shame she wouldn’t get to see Cerys, but at least she would meet her on the ice the next day. Besides, considering Worlds was the last major competition of the season before the World Team Trophy in April, Dad and Papa had agreed to let her stay with the an Craites for a few days after.

Unfortunately, between warmups and assignments, Ciri quickly realised she wouldn’t get a chance to talk to Cerys until after both their short programs, much to her annoyance. At least she would be the first to skate - Ciri hated skating last. She moved through life like a whirlwind, and she preferred to skate while her nerves were still running high.

As Ciri stepped out of the waiting room, she made eye contact with Cerys, who gave her a cheery little wave. Ciri’s resolve hardened - for Cerys, she’d try the Lutz.

How is Ciri the daughter of a Redanian and Kaedwenian, but a Cintran skater, I hear you ask? The answer is that I have no idea myself.

#the witcher #my writing #ciri/cerys #geraskier #honestly i'm not so happy with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long that i just wanted to get it out lol

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