Chapter Text
Cirilla had, on occasion, taken to sleeping on the floor in Geralt's room. On days when she would stare into the middle distance, draw in on herself, when her Khaos was more unpredictable and uncontrollable than usual. On these days several Witchers would see her, arms full of the bedding from her room, walking through the halls to Geralt's quarters.
The first few times that had happened, only Lambert was insensitive enough to tease her about it. But after seeing the hollow and haunted look in her eye, he never said a word about it again.
So, when Geralt walked into his room well after sunset two days before they were planning to leave Kaer Morhen, he wasn't very surprised to see Ciri asleep on his floor. He also wasn't phased to realize that her sleep was poisoned by nightmares.
And it was better for everyone if Ciri was with Geralt when she was having a nightmare. She would wake up screaming, more often than not, and when she screamed things broke. So far, only Geralt had had consistent luck pulling the princess from the panicked haze of her bad dreams.
Geralt tried to wake her, before she wound up waking the whole castle. He gently gripped her shoulder, preparing himself for when she woke and her Khaos surged and threw him against the wall.
Only that moment never came. Instead it seemed like she was concentrating on staying asleep. Her brow creased and she whispered, "not yet, Geralt. It's too soon." All while not once waking up.
That concerned Geralt. He wanted to shout for Yennefer, now that she was once again able to tap into Khaos, just so that he would have someone else there to help in case Ciri's magic burst in a way Geralt wasn't able to handle. But if he did that the whole keep would come running to see what was the matter.
So, Geralt just knelt next to Cirilla and waited for the girl to wake up or for her dream to take an even worse turn.
The moon was high in the sky when Ciri shot up with a gasp. She was breathing hard, eyes shooting around the dark room trying to reaffirm that she was at Kaer Morhen in Geralt's room.
"Ciri, what were you dreaming about?" Geralt was by her side in a heartbeat, a broad hand stroking up and down her back, voice low and gentle.
"It's not happened yet." Her thoughts were still to jumbled from her sleep to work the words in order yet, but she and Geralt set that phrase as something for Ciri to say when she dreamed of the future. Geralt's hand never left her back as he waited patiently for Cirilla to speak.
When Ciri's breathing was once again under control was when she made to speak. "You said you saved my father. Tell me what happened. No down plays, with as many details as you can remember."
Geralt didn't understand the urgency in her voice, or what it had to do with her nightmare, but she was insistent on knowing exactly what happened at Pavetta's betrothal banquet. So, they moved to be sitting on Geralt's bed and he told her everything from when Jaskier told him to keep a low profile seconds before Mousesack called to him loud enough for everyone to hear, to when Geralt swore to the druid that he would never return to Cintra, would have nothing to do with the child surprise.
Geralt watched Ciri's face as he told the story. Fear overlaid confusion and the smallest amount of amusement. "Mousesack told me a story about a man cursed with the looks of a porcupine falling in love with a woman and the spell breaking with a shared kiss at midnight. He never said that they were my parents."
"Then why do you look afraid?"
For the first time since she nearly begged for the story did she meet Geralt's eye. Part of her expression said she wanted to say that she wasn't scared, but whatever had happened in her dream kept her from voicing that thought. "I dreamt that you were in the banquet hall in the palace. You were fighting a man in Nilfgaardian armor. I don't think you've ever been as angry as you looked in my dream. Every blow from you was meant to kill. Not once did you try to resolve it without bloodshed. The people around the edges of the room kept whispering Butcher and White Flame." Ciri's bright green eyes filled with tears.
"What else is there?"
The tears silently rolled down her cheeks. "When Voleth Meir possessed me, she kept me from fighting by letting me live in an illusion that was perfect. My parents were alive, so was my grandmother, and Eist, and Mousesack. Everyone was still alive. It was the day of my betrothal and it was all so real. At first I knew it wasn't, I remembered everything, but it was so perfect my wish for it to be real erased everything that really happened. When I heard you speak, the vision blurred around the edges but didn't budge at first. But when everyone else started talking, the people in my vision turned to dust. First the court, nobles, servants, entertainment. Then Mousesack, then my grandmother, then my mother. When I was back in the keep, I was too sad to notice it, then we were pulled to the other sphere and seeing the Wild Hunt, that I didn't even think about it. When we finally had a moment to breathe, you and Yennefer came and sat with me on the bridge. You asked-"
"How did Nilfgaard know about you before anyone else."
Cirilla was openly sobbing now, looking once again like the heartbroken little girl she really was. "In Voleth Meir's vision there was only one person who didn't turn to dust -- the man you were fighting with that much anger and hatred in my dream, they were the same person. My father, Geralt. My father is still alive. He's the one hunting me. He started all this." Ciri's voice gave out, her sobs taking over completely.
Ciri's words had more impact than than the pendulums on the training course, cut deeper any injury Geralt had gotten on the Path. He reached out and pulled Ciri into his lap, into a bone crushing hug.
It was no secret that Geralt had been beyond reluctant to claim his child surprise. The only reason he went to Cintra was a sense of duty that he had never been able to kill. But that woman Ciri's first night at the keep couldn't have said anything more true; Geralt had become Ciri's father.
He wanted to do anything and everything he could to keep her safe from all that would try to hurt her. And in the coming months he would be doing just that.
But knowing that it was Duny that started this war, started this hunt--kind, hopeless-romantic Duny? Knowing that made his blood boil in a way not even the extra trials had been able to achieve. Geralt knew that nothing would be able to stop him from killing that man.
Cirilla cried herself back to sleep in Geralt's arms while he sat there fuming.
When morning eventually came, Geralt hadn't slept at all.
Ciri woke and followed Lambert and Vesemir around at Geralt's grumbled instruction.
It didn't take long for Geralt to find Yennefer and Jaskier. The two were always together these days. When everything had calmed down just a little bit, he would ask about it, but right now Geralt needed to talk to them.
The two shared a look when Geralt growled for them to follow him and the black thunder cloud that was hanging over his head. Neither the witch nor the bard knew what happened or wanted to ask, their relationship with the Witcher was strained at best at the moment. They followed him to the horses and waited until he could force the words from his throat.
"What do you two know of the White Flame?" Geralt asked, grabbing a brush and running it over the black mare's coat with a practiced hand. His bad mood soured further when he thought of how much he missed Roach and her reprimanding huffs and soft brown coat.
"Just that he showed up out of nowhere and started Nilfgaards march." Jaskier offered, leaning against a post, his back to the courtyard.
"He essentially bribed the people. Food, ale, and work was more equally distributed. Mages were taken from the pleasure houses, allowed to work with Khaos and magic again. He has them looking for something in the ruins, as well as for Ciri." Yen looked both bored and concerned as she grabbed another brush and tended to her own mount.
"Last night Ciri saw me fighting him. And I am going to kill him." Geralt let every ounce of his anger drip out with that last statement.
"Yeah. That's good, and all. But, nothing ever get's you this worked up, despite our best efforts." Jaskier said in an attempt lighten the mood just a little, but they all knew it wouldn't work.
"The Usurpers killer is Duny." Geralt felt bile at the back of his throat speaking that name. He ignored Yen's confusion, and instead focused on watching Jaskier's reaction.
For a split second his face was unreadable, just processing what Geralt said. Then all the blood drained from his face in understanding. Finally, Jaskier's face turned red with rage. Geralt knew that this anger was on a new level for the bard because he wasn't sputtering half words, for the first time since he could remember Jaskier was utterly speechless.
"Who the fuck is Duny?" Yennefer finally demanded, when their silence went on too long.
"Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald claimed the Law of Surprise for saving a king, without knowing who he was. That child surprise was Princess Pavetta of Cintra, daughter of the Lioness. Mother of Cirilla. Duny is Ciri's father." Jaskier ground out.
"Fuck." Yen said emphatically. Geralt and Jaskier could only grunt in agreement.
"Yen, you know any spells that let someone die more than once?" The only other time Geralt had heard the bard wish for someone's death was when they had found that damned Jinn.
"Believe me, if I did, we'd be walking though a portal right now." The witch let out a frustrated sound that Geralt knew couldn't come close to properly articulating the depth of their shared emotion.
The day came when they were leaving Kaer Morhen. As Geralt expected, it wasn't an emotional scene.
Vesemir nodding to Yennefer and Jaskier, a firm pat on Geralt's shoulder asking for the same promise to come back in one piece. Ciri was sent off with a hug from the sword master, whispering that she had a home in the keep always. The princess nodded as she mounted her horse and the four of them rode out through the gate at an easy pace to start with.
The snow was too thick and the mountain pass to treacherous at this time of year to push the horses faster than a slow canter.
As days passed and they slowly made their way down the mountain, Yennefer taught what she could while on horseback but that process was very slow going. Ciri did what she could to learn from the mage, despite the unconventional classroom.
Jaskier kept them all sane, kept them from falling so far into their own heads they couldn't speak. At first he just rewrote his more aggressive songs to fit any of the Usurper's titles, starting with Burn Butcher Burn. Butcher became Urcheon. When it was clear that reworking existing songs wasn't as good an outlet for the bard, he wrote new songs as a way to vent all his anger.
Once she knew the lyrics well enough, Ciri would scream the songs with Jaskier. And sometimes Yennefer would join in, all three finding a little catharsis in Jaskier's outlet.
Geralt never participated. Instead he pictured every single way he knew how to kill and put the Usurper's face at the end of whichever weapon he was imagining in that scenario.
The Witcher knew how important it was for everyone to rest and find their own way to handle the state of the world, so he didn't tell them to stop singing or playing or practicing or anything. Only made them promise that when he told them to freeze none of them would make a sound, especially once they were out of the protective reach of Kaer Morhen.
So when Triss's voice echoed in Geralt's head, he snapped at everyone so he could hear her faint voice.
"The Brotherhood and the Northern alliance has put a bounty on Ciri and anyone helping her. Be caref-" Her voice cut out suddenly and Geralt knew that it wasn't because the spell was difficult to hold.
Triss probably just risked her life to tell him that now it wasn't only Nilfgaard hunting them, it was the rest of the Continent as well.
Geralt looked up to see three sets of vibrant eyes staring at him with varying levels of fear and expectancy. "The list of people hunting us just tripled. Nilfgaard, the alliance of Northern kingdoms, and the Brotherhood, in addition to any independent bounty hunters." Geralt needed his family to know how much the danger had just grown, so they would be prepared. He focused on Yennefer when he continued. "Triss spoke in my head before her voice was cut off."
"Fuck!" Yennefer shouted into the woods surrounding them. Triss was the only one Yennefer could bare to be around in the days following the mountain, she was the only one Yen told outright when she was disconnected from Khaos. Yennefer loved Triss and she knew that the Brotherhood wasn't kind to people they deemed as traitors or a danger to the order. "Geralt. I can't-"
"I know. Go. We'll be fine." Nothing would have stopped Yennefer, so Geralt knew the next best thing would to be to support the passionate, humbled, and pissed off mage.
Yennefer disappeared through a portal, leaving Geralt, Ciri, and Jaskier.
They would be okay, Geralt would make sure of it.