Witcher’s Bond

Summary: Set directly after season one. Ciri and Geralt have finally found each other
Warning(s): Spoilers for the entire first season of The Witcher; probable AU; some references to violence

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Ciri hugged Geralt and closed her eyes. She knew she wasn’t completely safe, not totally out of danger yet, but this was the man who her grandmother had told her to seek out. It had taken a long time to find Geralt, but now that she had, the bond between them was unmistakeable.

Pulling back, Ciri frowned up at the man, taking in his white hair and rumpled appearance. “Who’s Yennefer?” she asked, seizing on the name that had been in her head for the past day.

Geralt frowned, glancing down at her and then looking around. He was very clearly on his guard, even though he had no weapons in his hand. “Yennefer is a sorceress and a close friend,” he answered. “But there’s nothing I can do for her right now. You are the one I was looking for.”

“My grandmother is dead.” Somehow, she’d thought that saying the words out loud would let her grieve. She hadn’t been able to cry before. It had all moved far too quickly and she hadn’t had any chance to process what had happened. But saying the words didn’t allow her to grieve. She didn’t feel anything, other than cold and numb inside. “Everyone who tried to protect me and look after me is dead now.” Or they’d abandoned her, which felt even worse.

“I won’t die,” Geralt promised.

She looked into his eyes; looked at his face. Searching for truth and honesty. “Do you know about…what I can do?” She didn’t know what to call it, but some instinct deep inside had warned her to keep it secret from everyone. Until now. But Geralt was who she’d been pushed towards. By her grandmother. By Mousesack. Every path she’d taken had ultimately led her here and to Geralt. The witcher who was her destiny.

“I saw the power used by your mother.” Geralt looked around and quickly began walking. He kept his steps at a steady pace, allowing Ciri to keep up with him without any problems. “It was the only time I’ve seen it. When she was carrying you and protecting the man she loved.”

She looked down, watching her feet as they trod the same path as he did. His path was hers now. Her family was dead. Her friends were all gone; dead or left her in other ways. Geralt was the only one who was there for her now. “Will you help me to train?” she asked. “If I’d had more control, maybe I could have saved Cintra. My grandmother.” Her voice faltered a little, although her steps remained strong.

“Don’t think like that. You can’t change the past.” Geralt continued walking, further into the forest. He stopped next to a chestnut mare and patted the horse’s flank lightly, then turned to Ciri.

“This is your horse?” Ciri walked up to the mare and held her hand out, letting the animal sniff at her palm. She smiled as the horse whickered softly and stroked the long nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any apples to give you.”

“Can you ride?” Geralt asked her.

She nodded. “My grandmother always made sure I could. She told me how important a warrior’s steed is.” She moved to the horse’s side and placed her foot in one of the stirrups. Hauled herself up and settled in the saddle, taking hold of the reins in both hands. Looked down at Geralt. “What’s her name?”

“Roach.” Geralt patted the horse’s flank and clicked his tongue, encouraging Roach to walk. He walked alongside the animal, hand still resting on her side.

They walked in silence. Ciri had spent the days since her home’s invasion running for her life. Trying to protect herself and get to the witcher she’d been told was her destiny. Now that she’d found him, she could relax. At least a little bit. She looked at him as he walked next to her, his eyes focused on the path ahead of them.

She didn’t think he was really paying attention to her, but she knew how much danger she was in. And for perhaps the first time since Nilfgaard had invaded her home, she thought there was a chance she’d be able to stay out of their clutches. She shouldn’t distract the witcher from being on his guard and yet…. “Do you play knucklebones?” she asked suddenly.

“Knucklebones?” Geralt walked in silence for a few moments before commenting, “It’s been a long time since I’ve played it. Since I’ve played any games, really. But I think I could manage a game or two when we stop for the night.”

“Eist taught me.” Her voice faltered a little. Her grip tightened on Roach’s reins and she looked down at the mare. The numb feeling was fading, but it left a terrible weight behind in her chest. “He taught me a lot of things.” She took a deep breath and put a hand to her chest. She wanted to cry. She wanted to let go of the deep hurt from seeing so many people dying because of her. “Nilfgaard wanted me. Because of what I can do. They won’t rest until they have me.” She paused.

“They won’t get you.” His voice was low. A promise. “I’ll protect you. Keep you safe.”

“I know you will.” She watched the sun as it began to set ahead of them. “Will you teach me to fight?” she asked. “As well as helping me to control my abilities?”

“I’ll teach you,” Geralt promised. He grasped Roach’s bridle, pulling the horse closer against his side. “Night will fall soon. There’s a clearing coming up. We’ll make camp there.”

“Do you have anything to eat?” As she spoke the words, her stomach let out a low, growling sound.

“I have food. When we stop for camp, I’ll cook for both of us.” As he said the words, he led Roach between two trees and into a small clearing. Then, he turned towards Ciri.

She climbed carefully down from the horse, patting Roach’s back before her stomach growled again. She smiled at him. “I’m really very hungry,” she admitted.

“Here.” He gave her a small pouch of food. “Just until I can get a fire going and cook a proper meal.” He began collecting firewood.

She opened the pouch and took out the dried fruit and cheese that was in there. Sitting down, her back against one of the trees, she watched as he began to stack up firewood. She nibbled on the food, sighing a little as chewing and swallowing calmed the gnawing in her stomach.

Within seconds, Geralt had a small fire going. Ciri moved closer to it and held her hands up, allowing the blaze to warm them.

He went over to the saddlebags on Roach and removed them, then took out a small dagger. “Wait here. I won’t be gone long.”

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry.” Geralt slipped back in between the two trees, very quickly fading from sight.

Dark surrounded the clearing now. Ciri moved a bit nearer to the fire, letting it warm her. She stared into the flames and wondered at the path that lay ahead of her now. Would she follow the path of the witcher? And what about Cintra? Her home had been invaded, but her people still lived. And she was the only heir.

Did she need to choose between going with Geralt and ultimately leading Cintra? Her grandmother had only been a few years older than her when she’d become Queen. And if Ciri didn’t take the throne, it would leave her people without a leader.

A rustling from the trees made her sit up straighter and she grabbed one branch that was sticking out of the fire. She quickly clambered to her feet, holding the burning torch in front of her…and then calmed down, dropping the wood back into the fire as Geralt stepped back into the clearing, holding two dead rabbits.

“Fire’s good.” He passed her one of the rabbits, along with the dagger he’d taken with him. “You know how to skin one?”

“I’ve seen it done before.” She took the rabbit and began to cut the skin off. It was harder and tougher than she’d been expecting, but she managed to avoid cutting her own flesh, even though she had blood and fur covering her hands by the time she was done.

Geralt took the remains of the rabbit from her hands and began to cut them into slices that he then pushed onto sharpened sticks. “Drop the skin into the fire,” he directed. “There’s a waterskin in the saddlebags. Use a tiny amount to clean off the blood and fur.”

Nodding, she dropped the fur and skin into the fire, then stood up and walked over to the saddlebags. She pulled out the waterskin and then poured a tiny amount over hands, rubbing them together and then shaking them as far away from the fire as she could. She then walked back over and sat down on the ground next to Geralt, taking the stick with the meat on he handed her.

The two of them sat in relative silence, holding their sticks over the flames until the meat turned brown and cooked fully. Then, Ciri held the stick away from the fire, blowing carefully on the cooked slices before she began to eat.

The meat was warm and filled her belly. She watched Geralt eating, but neither of them spoke. The silence was companionable. There was no need to fill it with talk. No need to ask him questions, or to ask him what he thought they should do next.

Once he had finished eating, Geralt dropped the stick in the fire and Ciri copied him. She then watched as he walked over to the saddlebags and pulled out another small pouch. Walking over to her, he knelt in the grass directly in front of her and poured the contents of the pouch into his hand, holding them out for her to see. “It’s been a long time, so they’re very old.”

She smiled and sat back, watching as he tossed the knucklebones.

Eventually, she would have to start her training. Eventually, she would have to choose the path she followed. But for right now, her belly was full. She was safe. And could play knucklebones with the man she’d been searching for since her home had fallen.

The End