Geralt never thought he'd see the day.

The winter air is crisp, the snow lightly dusting the ground, but it’s not the cold that makes him pause—it’s the sound of laughter.

Geralt is standing at the edge of the frozen lake, just beyond the treeline, watching the two of you.

Yennefer, who never much cared for anything like this, is wobbling uncertainly on the ice, a look of mild confusion etched on her face. You’re there beside her, guiding her with a patience Geralt didn’t know you had. You’re showing her how to glide, teaching her the simplest steps.

At first, she’s hesitant, her boots sliding and her hands flailing for balance. You laugh softly, taking her hands, offering encouragement.

"It’s not as hard as it looks, Yen," you say, your voice light with amusement.

Yennefer glares at you, but the faintest smile plays on her lips. "If you say so, Ciri."

And then it happens.

Both of you lose your footing at the same time, crashing down into the snow with a sound of surprise and an explosion of giggles. You land on top of her, your face flushed from the cold, and for a moment, everything else disappears. There’s no running, no danger, no past haunting them.

Just the two of you—laughing, something Geralt hasn’t heard Yennefer do in a long time.

She pushes you off, her laughter mixing with yours, a rare sound, but it’s real.

"I didn’t think you’d make me fall so easily," Yennefer teases, wiping the snow from her face.

"You were doing fine until you tried to be graceful," you reply, still chuckling.

Geralt didn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, something changed. Yennefer is smiling—genuinely smiling—and you’re here, sharing something simple and beautiful that neither of you expected.

Geralt can’t help but watch, leaning against a nearby tree.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe—just maybe—we can be a family after all.