TWENTY-FIVE | THE END

Caira's eyes couldn't tear away from her mother's greyed skin. It was surreal seeing such a lifeless body that once belonged to a being who was so full of life. To once being so powerful to be diminished in to dust at the end was ironic to say the least. Geralt and Caira had seen death many times, but for some reason this one haunted them. Perhaps it was because it was someone who they personally knew, or maybe it was because they knew with her demise came the weight of the kingdom.

Another burden followed Caira after the long awaited day of her mother's death, telling Ranya she would take her place as queen. Although the universe had given Astris a month more of life to spend suffering with her distant children at her bedside, it was not nearly enough enough time for Caira to grow the courage to tell her sister she had betrayed her. She knew Ranya would be furious with her. There was a strong chance she would never forgive her. Nevertheless, preparations were already in process as soon as Leianna had announced that Queen Astris had succumbed to her illness.

"Where is she?!" The distant, high pitched voice could be heard from outside of the doors to the queen's room. Caira recognized it as Ranya's.

Ranya pushed past the guards and shoved open the grand oak doors. Hurriedly, she approached the corpse. Cold tears rolled down her face, unlike her sister who dealt with her grief quietly. Ranya reached out to touch her dear mother's cold hand.

Placing her hand on her sister's back to comfort her, Caira spoke. "The kingdom will miss her dearly, despite her intense nature."

Ranya wiped away her tears whilst letting out a quiet chuckle. "She was quite strong, wasn't she?"

Caira simply nodded. She let a few moments pass by to allow her sister to absorb the information that her mother was truly gone, and to begin grieving. Unfortunately for the royals, their grief had to be soon interrupted with duty. "Before she left us, she spoke of what you were worried with."

Ranya's rolling tears suddenly stopped. "She asked you, didn't she?"

Solemnly, Caira nodded. "And?" Ranya pressed, turning to her sister.

"I told her I would resume my duties," she responded.

Ranya scoffed. "You have been gone for years, sister. And, yet, somehow to manage to return with a warm welcome and a seat on the throne." She was very calm when speaking.

"I trouble myself with surprise, I should have known. I even warned you, nevertheless, I see where your loyalties lie. With yourself. You frolicked about outside of the palace and when it's convenient for you, you return to reclaim your crown." Ranya continued. "Congratulations, my queen."

She ridiculously bowed before her sister before leaving the room. Caira sighed, looking down at her mother once more before returning to her chambers.

* * *

Caira curled up against Geralt in their luxurious bed, far different than the very first bed they shared. He had been busy with training Cirilla in the past weeks, but that did not deter them from testing out the cure Leianna had concocted.

Geralt scanned the silk robe his lover was wearing, it hugged her form displaying her curves. Though the mage had promised there were no side effects, he had felt an overwhelming increase in his libido. Not that Caira cared much, as they were quite the energetic couple before the potions.

"What?" Caira smiled, knowing where his mind we wandering off to as he practically drooled over her.

Geralt pulled her small frame close to him, but she kept herself away by putting her arm up to his chest. "Not tonight," she spoke softly.

Geralt shook the lustful thoughts out of his mind as he recalled her mother had passed that very afternoon. He grunted in an apologetic way and laid his head down on the satin bed. She snuggled up to him, staring at his rugged features. Being with him gave her so much comfort, despite how brute he had been with her in the past. "You know what might make you feel better?" Geralt placed his calloused hand on her soft cheek.

Her brow quirked upward in curiosity. "You haven't rode Meg in weeks."

"It's dark out and I doubt the queensguard would let me out this late."

"Caira, the rogue one, worried about gaining permission?" Geralt let out a single snort.

Caira smiled, mischievously. She reminisced on her old, carefree self. She was quite wild and outspoken. Especially when she had met Geralt. She began to worry he didn't love her as much since she seemed to have lost herself in the past year as she focused on having a child and now burdened with becoming the queen of Astoria.

Jumping to her feet, she grabbed Geralt by the collar of his shirt and pulled him toward the window in their bedroom. Quietly, she swung open the window covering, peeking out to check for any obstacles or guards. Once she realized it was clear, she swung her leg over the ledge and balanced herself on the edge of the castle. She shimmied her way, stepping slowly side by side until she reached the wall covered in moss and vines. Tugging at the vines to test how sturdy it was, she then used that to her advantage and climbed down the side of the wall. Geralt still watched from the window, impressed in her athleticism considering how little she had put those skills to use in the previous months.

Once Caira made it to the ground, she looked up at Geralt, forgetting he wasn't nearly as small or stealthy as her to be able to make it down the same way she did. But, without a glimmer of hesitation, Geralt simply jumped from the edge. She gasped as he landed strong on his feet, the loud thump alerting nearby guards. Geralt brushed the dirt that kicked up from his impact off and the two hurried over to the stables where Roach and Meg stayed.

* * *

10 months later...
It was surreal. The silk sheets. The golden adornments around the room. The procedure and traditions it all required. Being queen had not settled well with Caira. Geralt was nearly never around as he had obligations to Cirilla. She was left, alone in a large palace full of servants ready to attend to her every need.

She stared down at her swollen belly. Leianna's cure had in fact worked. And she was pregnant. Ready for labor as the contractions indicated. But she was alone. Geralt still off somewhere with Ciri. Leianna's discoveries for fertility had given her new roles in other kingdoms to spread her knowledge and help grow fertility.

Only a couple of nameless women were by her side, indicating her to push and breathe whenever needed. Fortunately, the laboring was brief. The child came quickly without complication and was quickly whisked away to another room to be cleaned.

Caira quietly closed her eyes, resting for a moment, until she heard the large oak door croak open. She blinked, expecting to see her child with the servants. But, she saw the face of her sister instead. The sister she hadn't seen in 10 months. Anger was what Caira expected from Ranya. Not abandonment. Although, she would be quite the hypocrite to think like this. As she had once abandoned her sister and mother.

Sweat dripped down the sides of Caira's face, partially from the laboring, partially from her nervousness. Ranya smiled at her sister... an unexpected emotion. "Congratulations, sister. It is a boy." She announced.

"You saw him?" Caira propped herself up on the bed with her elbows.

Ranya nodded slowly, then pulled a small vial out of her pocket. She wore a long pleated dress, much like a commoner. Even the pockets sewn into the dress indicated she was living amongst them. There was no use for pockets if you were a royal. Your utility were your servants.

"They told me to give you this. Leianna sent it for you, to help with the healing and the soreness." She reached over and handed the vial to Caira.

Caira relaxed, knowing Leianna's elixir would soothe the burning sensation down below. Quickly, she drank it. "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately." Ranya began.

"I've been living not too far from here with the common folk of Astoria. And I've decided I don't quite like it."

Caira smiled small. "You're more than welcome to stay here, sister. We have plenty of room."

"I think I will take you up on that offer. But I think there isn't quite enough space." Ranya spoke slowly, watching her sister closely.

Caira began to feel her throat swell up. A fiery sensation began to roar throughout her body. She squirmed. Here breaths came in shallow gasps, her body already weakened from childbirth.  The air in the chamber was thick with anticipation. Caira, her once youthful face now etched with pain, lay on the ornate bed. Ranya began pacing, her knuckles white from gripping the edge of the table. The midwives shuffled about outside of the chamber, unaware of the treachery occurring within.

Caira's breaths came in ragged gasps. Sweat dampened her brow, and she reached out for her sister as words could not slip past her tightening throat. Help. She tried to shout but was only met with her sisters cold face.

Ranya leaned close as she watched the life slip away from her sisters face. "Need anything, my queen?"

Ranya waited a few more moments before her face twisted into a false agony. "Help!! Help the queen needs help!" She shouted for the midwives.

The young ladies hurried in, gasping at the sight. They began hurriedly reaching for their tools. The midwives worked swiftly, but it was too late. Caira's eyes fluttered shut, her last breath escaping like a whispered secret.

* * *

Within the hour, Geralt was back at the palace. Thanks to Ranya, he had no idea the love of his life was giving birth... let alone dying. Ranya managed to pay a few of her friends she made in her time living with commoners to intercept the messenger sent from the palace to retrieve Geralt and Cirilla from their training. The messenger now lay flayed in the dark alleys of the kingdom's worst ghetto. The task was easily assigned at the hatred for royals ran strong in the poorest parts of the lands.

The first emotion passing Geralt face as he arrived to the chamber where Caira's corpse laid was regret. He had spent so much time with Cirilla the past two years, and had forgotten his dedication to Caira. Now, because of this he hadn't been near to comfort her in her worst moments. When she was being torn apart by their son and when she took her last breath. Her death had been ruled as complications from childbirth. Many women in the kingdoms faced similar fates.

The room was hushed, the air thick with grief. Geralt stepped into the chamber, his heart pounding. The flickering candlelight danced across the stone walls, casting elongated shadows.

And there she lay—Caira, his love, his queen. Her once-vibrant eyes now closed, her skin ashen. The life that had burned so fiercely had been extinguished, leaving only a shell behind.

He approached the bed, his footsteps echoing. The scent of lilies hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of sorrow. Caira's brown hair spilled across the pillow, a stark contrast to her pallor.

Geralt's fingers trembled as he reached out, clenching her cheek. Cold. So cold. His throat tightened, and he fought back tears. She deserved more than this—a warrior's farewell, a queen's honor.

He traced the curve of her lips, committing every detail to memory. Her hands, once strong and sure, now lay limp by her sides.

"Forgive me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I failed you."

The room seemed to hold its breath. The weight of loss settled on his shoulders, threatening to crush him. He pressed his forehead to hers, willing her spirit to linger, to guide him.

But she was gone. The fire that had burned between them—the shared laughter, the whispered promises—now reduced to embers. And Geralt, the stoic warrior, wept.

He kissed her forehead, tasting salt and regret. "Rest well, my love," he snarled, his anger boiling over. "I'll keep our promise. Our son will know your strength, your sacrifice."

And then he heard it—the soft, fragile cry that pierced the silence. Geralt turned, his heart both breaking and swelling. In the cradle by the hearth, wrapped in swaddling cloth, lay their son. His son. One of the midwives brought him in for Geralt.  The babe's eyes were closed, his tiny fists clenched

The room was heavy with sorrow, the remnants of Caira's life still lingering. Geralt stood by the window, the moon casting a pale glow on the stone floor. His heart was a battlefield—joy for their son's arrival, grief for Caira's departure.

The midwife left, leaving Geralt alone with the tiny bundle in his arms. The baby's cries were raw, a testament to life's fragility. Geralt's fingers traced the soft curve of the infant's cheek, marveling at the delicate features—the same eyes that had once sparkled with laughter, the same nose that had nuzzled against his neck during stolen moments. The one feature stolen away from Caira's legacy was the child's hair. It was nearly whiter than his own.

"Hello, little one," he whispered, his voice gruff. "You're a fighter, just like your mother."
The baby's eyes blinked open, and Geralt saw a glimmer of recognition—a shared bond, a legacy. Something Geralt never thought he could have. The feeling was unreal. Unlike any other emotion he had allowed himself to feel before.

* * *

Days passed, and Geralt's grief turned to suspicion. Ranya, the new queen, moved seamlessly into her role. But something gnawed at him. Caira's death had been too sudden, too convenient.

He followed the whispers, the rumors that slithered through the castle like shadows. Ranya's secret meetings, her hushed conversations with the new court sorceress. Geralt's instincts screamed betrayal.

* * *
4 years later.

Geralt was sitting on the porch of his farmhouse, watching his son and Ciri play with the horses. He felt a pang of nostalgia as he remembered his days as a witcher, roaming the lands and fighting monsters. He wondered what his old friends were doing, and if they were still alive.

He heard a knock on the door and got up to answer it. He opened it and saw a familiar face. It was Zoltan, the dwarf who had helped him many times in his adventures.

"Zoltan," Geralt spoke in his usual gruff manner. "Come in. What brings you here?" Geralt suspected a mission was to be proposed to him of sorts. Though he kept up with his trainings he no longer killed monsters... or people. He had spent the last four years in the middle of no where on a farm raising his children. Worrying about little else. So he was prepared to deny this proposal.

Zoltan entered the house and looked around. He saw the cozy furniture, the fireplace, the books, and the paintings. He smiled and said, "Nice place you have here, Geralt. Looks like you've settled down well."

Geralt nodded and offered him a drink. They sat down and chatted for a while, catching up on the news and events of the world. Zoltan told him about the wars, the politics, the magic, and the monsters. Geralt listened with interest, but also with a sense of detachment. He felt like he no longer belonged to that world.

Then Zoltan said, "Geralt, there's something I need to tell you. Something important."

Geralt sensed the seriousness in his voice and said, "What is it?"

Zoltan took a deep breath and said, "It's about Caira."

Geralt felt a jolt in his heart.

"What about her?" Geralt asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Zoltan looked at him with pity and said, "Geralt, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but... Caira was killed by her sister, Ranya."

Geralt felt a surge of anger and disbelief. He said, "Why do you say that? Why tell me now? They were the last of their family."

Zoltan shook his head and said, "I don't know, Geralt. I don't know. But it's true. I have proof."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. He handed it to Geralt and said, "This is from Ranya. She wrote it before she killed herself. She confessed everything. How she poisoned her, how she watched Caira die, how she regretted it. She said she was always jealous of Caira, of her beauty, of her power. She said she wanted to be Caira, to have everything she had. She said she was mad, and she couldn't live with what she had done."

Geralt took the letter and read it. He felt a wave of shock, grief, and rage wash over him. He couldn't believe what he was reading. He couldn't believe that Ranya, although slightly irritable at times, had done such a horrible thing. Especially so soon after their mother had passed. He couldn't believe that she had taken away the love of his life, and then taken her own.

He crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire. Zoltan said, "Geralt, I wish it was a lie. I wish it was a trick. But it's not. It's the truth. I'm sorry, Geralt. I'm so sorry."

Geralt stood up and walked to the window. He looked outside and saw his son and Ciri running towards the house. They were laughing and smiling. They were his only hope, his only reason to live.

He turned to Zoltan and said, "Thank you for telling me, Zoltan. Thank you for being my friend. But please, leave me alone. Leave me alone with my pain. Leave me alone with my son. Leave me alone with Ciri. They are all I have left. They are all that matters."

Zoltan nodded and said, "I understand, Geralt. I'll leave you alone. But if you ever need me, if you ever need anything, just call me. I'll be there for you. You're not alone, Geralt. You're never alone."

He got up and hugged Geralt. He said, "Take care, Geralt. Take care of yourself. Take care of your son. Take care of Ciri. They need you. And you need them."

He let go of Geralt and walked to the door. He opened it and said, "Goodbye, Geralt. Goodbye, my friend."

He left the house and closed the door behind him. He mounted his horse and rode away.

Geralt watched him go. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it away and said, "Goodbye, Zoltan. Goodbye, my friend."

He turned to face his son and Ciri. They had entered the house and saw him standing by the window. They ran to him and hugged him. His son said, "Daddy, daddy, we're back. We had so much fun. We love you, daddy. We love you so much."

Geralt hugged them back. He said, "I love you too, Cairo. I love you too, Ciri. I love you more than anything."

The end.