The ranch at Kaer Morhen is a second chance, both for the horses that come in there and, if its owner is being particularly honest with himself, for Geralt, too.
It's really only luck that he has the place at all, a gift from an old friend who had a parcel of land that he didn't know what to do with. Turning it into a moderately successful ranch to train and rehabilitate horses took a lot of time and effort, but Geralt had had the time and needed something to put labor into. After his stint in prison and years of parole, the ranch was something that he built, something that he made better rather than worse. It helped him get back on his feet. And once he had gotten his life back on track and made a lot of progress fixing his many and varied personal problems, it was probably one of the major deciding factors in getting the judge to let him have visitation rights to his daughter.
Ciri was nearly twelve years old by the time he got to meet her. Building a relationship with a nearly teenaged girl was difficult, but ultimately every second that he could spend with his daughter was worth it. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he wanted to make up for all the time that he'd lost to his own stupid mistakes.
In time, visitation had become joint custody, Ciri's time split between the ranch and her mother's house in the city. And, of course, Yen is the better provider, with her law degree and her political aspirations, but Geralt likes to think that Ciri at least enjoys her time with him. Yen was always too good for him, too smart for him, and he couldn't even blame her for not telling him when she had gotten pregnant. Their relationship had always been rocky, an on-again-off-again thing that had no stability, no real chance of long-term survival. And then he had gone to prison a few years later, so. It was a smart move, really. He couldn't fuck up a kid that he never met.
The point is, Geralt's turned his life around. He has his daughter, he has a business doing something that he loves that also manages to keep the bills paid, he's on speaking terms with Yen and his foster father and most of his foster brothers. His life is okay. It's making sense.
Then, one Saturday morning while he's busy getting the horses their usual breakfasts of hay and grain, a tall, blue-eyed complication walks into his life.
He's just finished and is walking up the path to get started on his other chores for the day when he hears the sound of someone calling out and knocking at the door to his home. Ciri's at school, thankfully, so she isn't there to answer the door for some stranger. Some city boy, it looks like, with headphones around his neck and an instrument case on his back, looking more fit to walk into a cute cafe and take Insta-whatsit pictures of his lattes or something than to ride horses.
"Over here," he calls, to get the man's attention. Maybe this guy is just here for a few pictures with horses for social media. Geralt doesn't exactly care if he does that, so long as he doesn't scare them with the flash or do something stupid that would get him bitten or kicked. "You can ride here, if that's what you're looking for. You ever been on a horse?"
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It's really only luck that he has the place at all, a gift from an old friend who had a parcel of land that he didn't know what to do with. Turning it into a moderately successful ranch to train and rehabilitate horses took a lot of time and effort, but Geralt had had the time and needed something to put labor into. After his stint in prison and years of parole, the ranch was something that he built, something that he made better rather than worse. It helped him get back on his feet. And once he had gotten his life back on track and made a lot of progress fixing his many and varied personal problems, it was probably one of the major deciding factors in getting the judge to let him have visitation rights to his daughter.
Ciri was nearly twelve years old by the time he got to meet her. Building a relationship with a nearly teenaged girl was difficult, but ultimately every second that he could spend with his daughter was worth it. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he wanted to make up for all the time that he'd lost to his own stupid mistakes.
In time, visitation had become joint custody, Ciri's time split between the ranch and her mother's house in the city. And, of course, Yen is the better provider, with her law degree and her political aspirations, but Geralt likes to think that Ciri at least enjoys her time with him. Yen was always too good for him, too smart for him, and he couldn't even blame her for not telling him when she had gotten pregnant. Their relationship had always been rocky, an on-again-off-again thing that had no stability, no real chance of long-term survival. And then he had gone to prison a few years later, so. It was a smart move, really. He couldn't fuck up a kid that he never met.
The point is, Geralt's turned his life around. He has his daughter, he has a business doing something that he loves that also manages to keep the bills paid, he's on speaking terms with Yen and his foster father and most of his foster brothers. His life is okay. It's making sense.
Then, one Saturday morning while he's busy getting the horses their usual breakfasts of hay and grain, a tall, blue-eyed complication walks into his life.
He's just finished and is walking up the path to get started on his other chores for the day when he hears the sound of someone calling out and knocking at the door to his home. Ciri's at school, thankfully, so she isn't there to answer the door for some stranger. Some city boy, it looks like, with headphones around his neck and an instrument case on his back, looking more fit to walk into a cute cafe and take Insta-whatsit pictures of his lattes or something than to ride horses.
"Over here," he calls, to get the man's attention. Maybe this guy is just here for a few pictures with horses for social media. Geralt doesn't exactly care if he does that, so long as he doesn't scare them with the flash or do something stupid that would get him bitten or kicked. "You can ride here, if that's what you're looking for. You ever been on a horse?"