Chapter Text
A big headache and a cold finger poking her leg were the first things Ciri felt as her consciousness slowly returned. She could hear muffled voices and high-pitched laughing around her.
She could feel fire warming her toes and hear some chopping noises. Was she in some sort of kitchen?
Ciri tried pretending to be still unconscious - keeping her body as relaxed as she could when someone lifted her arm. Shivers ran down her spine when something or someone sniffed her arm.
“Delicious”, an old woman’s voice crackled. Ciri could feel a hot breath against her skin and something wet dripping onto her bicep.
What is going on?! Panic started settling into her. It took every drop of Ciri’s self-discipline not to just quickly punch whatever was touching her and run away.
She had no idea how many people were in the room or how powerful they might be. What she knew for fact was Wild Hunt had not captured her. At least she was pretty certain of it…
The last thing Ciri remembered before waking here was a sharp pain in her side and Avallac’h ushering her into a portal while coughing. They had been in Skellige when the wild hunt had found them and attacked. Her memory of the events was hazy at best. Everything had happened so quickly.
“Get your dirty hands off of it!”, another woman’s voice hissed as it slapped the first one's hand away from Ciri.
As the voices continued, Ciri could make out three different voices. All belonging to old women. They didn’t sound the pleasant kinds either. Especially as they discussed Ciri like she was a piece of meat about to be cooked into a stew.
Ciri had heard stories about three witches living somewhere in the middle of a forest - or was it a swamp, luring children to their home to be eaten. But what could be the odds that she would teleport here from all the places in the world? Now that she was thinking about it, it would be odder if she didn’t end up in the worst place possible…
Ciri waited as still as she could until she heard the witches leave.
Her heart was stammering in her throat as she sat up slowly. Her eyes scanned the room, a big black cauldron was bubbling just a few meters away from her, and the smell from it made the woman’s stomach turn.
It was pitch black outside -maybe around midnight, if she had to make a guess. the fire under the cauldron gave off just enough light to illuminate the objects around the room.
The sight of a familiar scabbard buried behind sacks made Ciri let out a quiet sigh of relief. She ducked down so no one could see her silhouette through the windows and started sneaking towards the sword. Ever so careful not to knock things down and made sure to shift her weight slowly to minimize the old mouldy floorboards from creaking.
Reaching out slowly to pull the sword free, she immediately felt her anxiety wash away. She buckled it quickly to her back and started making her way towards the main door.
Ciri would have preferred to use some other way to escape than the main door, but she could make out in the dim light that the front door was the only door in this building, and the windows were too small for her to squeeze through. Leaving her no other options.
Ciri pressed her back against a wall. Holding her breath, she listened for any signs of life or movement from the outside.
It would be so much easier if I had witcher mutagens right now, she quietly cursed in her head.
The coast seemed to be safe.
Ciri reached out carefully and turned the door handle just enough for it to open on its own. She let go and hid behind the wall again.
Hearing her heart pounding in her ears, she waited for anything to react to the door opening seemingly on its own.
Okay okay. Think Cirilla, think! As soon as you step outside; you run. Run as fast as you can. I really should use a portal. It would be much easier, but what if it alerts the witches? Or wild hunt? Or BOTH. No, it will be the last resort…, She tried to hype herself up.
It had been so long since she had to make these decisions all alone. Only now did Ciri realize how Avallac’h detailed plans on top of more plans gave her the chance to think on her feet and improvise while still following some kind of plan. Not that she would ever admit it to the sage, of course.
Three… Two…
Ciri took in a deep breath
… One!
With one fluid motion, Ciri bolted out the open door and started running as quickly as her legs could manage.
Angry shouts and cursing soon followed, but she didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
One wrong move and she would be dead. This she knew for a certainty.
The magic crackled in her ears as the witches tried to attack her with spells that the woman dodged by doing small teleportations through trees.
Ciri felt her knees want to give out. Her muscles were shaking and spasming so much that it hurt her. This was not how she was going to die. Not today!
Ciri only stopped once her legs gave out under her and fell to the mossy ground. Having no strength to even lift a finger.
Somehow she managed to survive the night. Perhaps the universe finally showed her some pity. If so, it didn’t last long.
For the next two weeks, Ciri went from escorting a small girl from the forest and finding a relatively safe place to rest. To have to run away to Novigrad as she had used her powers to save the Bloody Baron’s life and now wasn’t sure if the hunt had caught her scent because of it.
In Novigrad, she had fallen in with the wrong people in a vain hope of restoring the phylactery used to curse Avallac’h.
It ended up with her endangering her friends and almost getting killed herself.
The last thing she remembered before her mind went blank; was running away from The whoreson's men and seeing a crossbow bolt flying towards her. And then wind howled at her ears as she plummeted into an ocean, knocking her unconscious out of shock.
Avallac’h sat in his hideout, leg bouncing up and down as he stared at the empty potion bottle he had gotten from a local mage.
He tried to quiet the racing mind that tried to make him recall all the possible futures he had seen. And reminded him how this one scarily looked like the one where Ciri would get into serious trouble.
He could feel it in his bones as soon as the teleport spell had activated and Eredin put this annoying curse on him. If Avallac’h only could find Ciri and take her to safety. Then the sage could concentrate on getting rid of this annoyance. For it was only that, a rock in his shoe meant to humiliate and be an inconvenience.
The sage took what little condolences he could from the knowledge Ciri wasn’t dead at the very least. Hope was not lost as long as she remained alive. Nothing else mattered at this point.
Avallac’h closed his eyes, feeling as if his magic, enhanced by potions, tried to push out the curse or at the very least delay it as long as possible.
The sage tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling, taking a deep breath and letting it go slowly. The sage began to magically extend his awareness of the surroundings, seeing the almost invisible threads of faith and destiny surrounding everything and everyone living.
But he found it more difficult than ever before. He wanted to blame the curse, but it had to be something deeper, something Avallac’h had ignored in all his past visions…
Avallac’h prided himself on his calm demeanour. His level-headedness in pursuing his goals of better future for all elves. He took pride in his ability to sacrifice everything and everyone to achieve that, but now? He kept taking the longer routes to his destiny. Whatever path put Ciri in less danger, both physically and mentally.
He found himself relishing the moments she smiled brighter than the sun. When her laughter filled the silence. When she insisted on helping someone she might have never seen before whose lives seemed meaningless in Avallac’h’s eyes... Yet why did he help her help them?
A familiar pull in the sage's chest made him stand up quickly.
“Skellige. Why Skellige off all the places?”, he let out a frustrated sigh before summoning a portal and stepping through it while putting on his mask.
The sea was cold when Avallac’h found Ciri sinking ever deeper towards the ocean. His lungs were burning and begging for air as he wrapped arms around Ciri’s unconscious body. Avallac’h felt his feet land on the sea floor not long after, making the sand puff up and cloud his already clouding vision.
He put one of his arms beneath the woman’s legs and the other he used to support her upper body, pressing her as close to himself as possible.
The sage summoned another portal that took them to the nearby beach, hoping that someone would be there to help. Avallac’h didn’t have the energy to portal anywhere else. Even this short teleport made him taste blood in his mouth.
“Don’t stare. Help me”, Avallac’h called to a human man standing a few meters away from them, staring with one hand on the daggers' hilt. “Help her, please”, Avallac’h’s voice was pleading, almost desperate.
The human quickly ran towards them. Avallac’h hesitantly let him take Ciri from his hands.
“Whe-Where did you two appear?”, the man asked, a bit flustered as they started walking at a quick pace towards what Avallac’h assumed was the man’s home.
“Take her inside, next to a fireplace and ask some women to take care of her clothing”, Avallac’h didn’t bother answering the man’s unnecessary questions. “Do you have a herbalist or witch around?”
The man looked a bit lost for the fast pace of orders and questions thrown at him, and it seemed to now occur how critical the woman’s condition was. “A-ah, yes! Just over there, next to the well!”, he quickly answered, using his head to point towards the well in question.
Avallac’h gave a quick nod before heading there in a hurry.
Ciri was laid on a small bed - near the fireplace, as Avallac’h had instructed. Ciri’s wet clothes were removed and replaced with underwear to give her some modesty and comfort.
The small living space was soon full of the smell of herbs so strong that it stung eyes to breathe in if one wasn’t used to it. The sage sat on a small stool beside Ciri, mixing herbs and alcohol into a paste, unbothered by it all.
“I-is she going to make it?”, the young man approached, placing a vase of clean water and bandages onto a small table next to Avallac’h.
“She is a strong woman”, the sage stated and carefully pressed the paste onto Ciri’s wounds. Making mental notes on how many of them were new and poorly healing.
“She is pretty…” the man mumbled under his breath, in hope Avallac’h wouldn’t hear him, but quickly covered his mouth when Avallac’h gave him a cold glare. “I didn’t mean… I mean it would be a shame if she died!”
“(Keep digging your own grave, dh'oine)”, Avallac’h scoffed in ellylon as the human man left to pick up more firewood. Or simply to get away from the sage’s murderous aura.
Ciri’s wounds soon were bandaged, and her condition more or less stabilized thanks to potions and salves. Avallac’h wanted to use magic to speed up her recovery, but with the curse still wreaking havoc in his system, there was nothing he could do.
The sage pressed a finger against Ciri’s wrist, trying to feel her pulse. Before transferring just enough magic into her body so she would regain some of her consciousness for a short while.
“Ciri… Zireael. Can you hear me?”, the sage called, eyes scanning for any reaction or movement. To his relief Ciri nodded her head slightly, eyes still closed.
“I must leave you now. But we will meet again near the drowned dead rock, understand?”
“Ye-yea…”, Ciri’s voice was weak and tired.
“Can you remember it? Repeat it”
“... Drowned dead… Rock”, Ciri mumbled right before her conscience blanked out again.
“Ciriii!”, a familiar high-pitched joyful shriek pierced the air as soon as Ciri stepped her foot on Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. She watched as Yennefer ran down the stairs and pulled her into a tight and warm embrace.
“Oh, how you have grown, my dear! You look so beautiful”, the sorceress pressed kisses all around Ciri’s face making her blush and giggle. “Oh, how I have missed you.”
Ciri felt her eyes fill up with tears as all the longing and worry over her loved once safety, which she had tried to push down and ignore, hit her in full force.
“I missed you all too… So SO much”, Ciri whispered with a trembling voice as she hugged Yennefer tightly back and buried her face against the sorceress's shoulder.
The smell of lilac and gooseberries always calmed her down as a child, when she was scared and lonely. The familiar tingling of Yennefer’s magical aura that had lulled her to sleep after nightmares. It was all here, the same as it had always been.
They finally separated when Vasemier walked to them with a big smile.
“Ciri! You little she-devil, always making us worry!”, he pretended to be scolding but couldn’t keep down relieved laughter when the young woman jumped to hug her, legs kicking in the air.
“Your friend is in the tower recovering. He is fine”, Yennefer smiled.
Ciri turned to look at her quickly and felt something squeezing her heart.
“I’m so glad… I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him”, she let out a big sigh of relief. “Can I… Go see him?”
Yennefer and Geralt exchanged looks before the sorceress gave a quick nod. “Of course. He might not be awake. His body is still trying to replenish what was lost and to repair the damaged tissue”.
Ciri gave Geralt, Vasemier, and Yennefer quick kisses on the cheeks before running across the courtyard towards the tower Yen said Avallac’h was in.
She could hear her heart beating in her throat as she carefully turned the door handle and stepped into the quiet room.
The smell of incense and other healing herbs hit her right away, burning the back of her throat as she approached the bed.
Avallac’h laid on the bed, his eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly. Ciri had never seen the sage so relaxed and sleeping so deeply. She couldn’t help but smile while sitting down on a small chair next to the bed.
“I’m here, Avallac’h.”
Avallac’h’s lashes fluttered gently before he slowly opened his eyes.
“Zireael?”, his voice was quiet and raspy, nothing like the confident and smooth voice Ciri was used to.
“I’m so sorry… I should have been here quicker. I should have…”, Ciri felt tears falling down her cheeks.
“This is all my fault”, she lifted the sage’s hand carefully and pressed her lips against his knuckles. His skin was so cold.
Avallac’h was quiet for a minute or two, trying to process everything with his still recovering brain. “What are you talking about?”
“The curse… It was my fault. I should have tried to stop it somehow or get you to safety or--”
“Ciri, it wasn’t your fault”, Avallac’h interrupted. “There was nothing you could have done but run. What is important is you are alive and safe”, he reached a hand behind Ciri’s head and pulled her closer so that their foreheads pressed against each other. “Your safety is the most important. Everything else is expendable. I knew what I was getting into when I swore to protect you.”
With every word, Ciri’s heart twisted and turned painfully. “I promise to be better”, she whispered.
“Tell me everything that happened. You look awful must have been a hard journey”, Avallac’h tried to take a better position, wincing in pain as he did so.
“O-okay…”, Ciri gave a quick nod helping the sage to settle down comfortably. Before starting to recount her journey to the best of her memory. Ciri still gripped Avallac’h’s hand in her own like she was afraid he would turn to dust and disappear if she let go.