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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.

Chapter Text

Mere minutes after the portal closed behind Yennefer, Geralt once again demanded silence. There were twigs snapping and a steady heartbeat at the very edge of Geralt's hearing. Sounds that were just barely out of place, anyone less experienced would have mistaken them for one creature or another. Geralt knew better though.

"Get ready." The Witcher hissed to Ciri.

Jaskier let out a creative curse in Elder, finding cover in the brush off to the side. As the bard ducked into the snow covered bushes Geralt saw the glint of a dagger being drawn from his boot. That put Geralt's mind at ease slightly; bar brawls are one thing, this was something different. A more urgent kind of danger, but knowing that the musician could still protect himself until one of them could get to him let Geralt focus better.

"No Khaos until there is no other choice, understand?" Geralt ordered. He didn't want to risk drawing attention from the Brotherhood by surges of magic. They were already exposed by the portal Yen used, but there wasn't anything that could be done about that, not when Triss was in danger.

"Got it." Ciri took her starting stance and they waited for their pursuer to come out of hiding.

"Disarm if you can and their sword is yours." Geralt drew his own sword and a spike of unease shot through his stomach for not allowing Ciri to pick a sword from the Keep's armory.

"Finally." The man chose then to fly into the clearing in a poor attempt at catching them off guard. Compared to training with accomplished Witchers, his lunge was sloppy and easy for Ciri to block. Ciri danced around the man, skillfully avoiding the increasingly desperate attacks. The princess tackled the man to the ground and rolled away with his sword in her hand.

Geralt took the opening to end the assassins life. As soon as the mans heartbeat faded, Geralt could only hear the familiar sounds of the forest, their horses, and his family. They were alone in the woods, but the hairs on the back of his neck were still standing on end. They were being watched, likely by magic.

"We need to move on. Yen's portal might as well have pointed to where we are to anyone who was looking for her." Jaskier said, standing from his hiding spot and walking to the mage's horse.

Geralt grunted in agreement. "From now on, you two need to keep the volume down. We're too far from anyone who can help so it won't do to draw attention to us."

Ciri hovered behind Geralt as he took the scabbard from the man and helped secure it to her back. The sword was too long for her to use effectively, but it was better than being unarmed.

The three of them mounted and continued down the mountain.

The stopped when the sun was dipped below the tops of the mountain peaks. It was too dangerous to light a fire, but one of the spells Yennefer thought would benefit them the most was how to heat water.

It wasn't as long lasting as sitting by a fire, but having hot water not only warmed them from the inside out, it provided an alternative to cooking the rabbit Geralt caught.

It was still light out and Ciri wasn't fond of sitting still. "I'm going to run in circles for a bit."

"Don't go far, beag blath." Jaskier hummed, eyes tracking her movement with worried care. She nodded and slipped away almost silently.

Geralt could hear her light footfalls, her mostly even heartbeat. Tracking her movement as she ran in a near perfect circle around where they were camped.

That left Geralt alone with Jaskier. He hadn't been actively avoiding the bard, but he was apprehensive to be alone with him again. The last time they were alone with the time to talk Geralt let his frustration form arrows that he aimed at Jaskier. It was a day he would always regret, even if Jaskier decided to forgive him.

When Geralt eventually made his way back to Roach, his feeble attempts to hold onto the hope that he hadn't truly chased Jaskier off finally shattered.

Jaskier was gone and it was Geralt's fault.

With a dejected sigh, he road Roach back to the town to get more supplies before heading in the vague direction of Cintra.

Geralt rode as hard as he dared push Roach. An unrealistic and stupidly hopeful attempt to catch up with the bard, before he got too far from Geralt's reach.

For the past several years, Jaskier was the only constant in Geralt's life, and despite his grunts of annoyance, he didn't like the silence that came without the bard by his side.

One of the larger towns Geralt stopped in he decided to get a room at the inn. He was more likely to pick up news on the bard in an inn than on the road. He couldn't bring himself to leave his room once he closed the door however.

Geralt's breath nearly choked him when he heard Jaskier's voice through the floorboards. The introduction and background he gave for his new song was delivered with a subtly raw voice. So well covered Geralt doubted the audience even noticed. Geralt set his sword on the bed with the whetstone, fully intending to go downstairs to patiently wait for the set to come to an end and apologize.

But all his movements stopped when he heard the first few lines of the song, the contempt they were delivered with. The heartbroken hatred that was more potent than the smell of stale ale and sweat.

The last thread of hope in Geralt was cut by that one word that Jaskier promised to erase from the Witcher's reputation. When Jaskier sang, Geralt fully and truly understood how much he had hurt the bard. And knew that it was too soon to try to make amends.

"If you ask me to, I won't sing that song anymore." Jaskier muttered into his cupped hands, trying to warm them.

"Don't offer me that till I apologize." Geralt huffed. Jaskier always had a knack for guessing what was on his mind, even when they were still new to each other. When he looked up, those bright blue eyes were already watching him in that eerie way they always seemed to. "I am sorry for what I said. I was angry at myself and didn't want to admit it. It was easier to put all the blame on you. That wasn't fair of me and if I could take it back I would."

"I know. I was hurt by what you said, and the only way I could think to make you hurt the way I was hurting was bring back that terrible moniker. I regretted writing that song as soon as I preformed it, as much as I know you regret pushing me away like that."

"All's forgiven?"

"All's forgiven." Jaskier agreed with a smile. "If you ask me to, I won't sing that song anymore."

Geralt grunted, he wished there was a fire to stare into, something to look at that wasn't Jaskier's eyes. "I know it's become one of your more popular ones, so I won't ask you to stop. But only play it on request?" It felt almost wrong to be asking Jaskier to not play one of his songs, even one that was meant to hurt him.

"Of course. And when you kill the Usurper, and I won't be killed on sight for playing it, I'll only play the remastered version." Jaskier promised. The shine in his eyes combined with the smirk made Jaskier look dangerous. The look fell when even he heard Ciri trip because of the dimming light. "She's too noticeable. Her hair alone makes her stand out."

Geralt hummed in agreement, but he didn't know how to change it so he didn't offer any suggestions.

When Ciri came back she was out of breath and bruised from falling a few more times, but she was smiling.

"Ciri, how did you stay hidden before Geralt found you?" Jaskier asked, cupping the mug of hot water and holding it in front of his face.

"I used mud to make my hair darker and went by Fiona." She handed Geralt his refilled mug with a shrug.

"You should make that a habit again." Jaskier suggestion didn't leave much room for debate.

At Jaskier's suggestion, Geralt also colored his hair darker. His mission to make Geralt of Rivia, the white haired Witcher, known and loved had worked. Well, he was known at least.

He hid it well, but every time his hair fell into his eyesight, Geralt twitched in confusion, still not used to the dark color.

Jaskier missed the silver. It was harder for him to spot in a crowd. Though, he supposed, that was for the best, if it took him a moment to pick out Ciri and Geralt, then the time it would take for an enemy to spot them was doubled.

The times they spent in towns and inns decreased significantly. Geralt would only enter them for the time it took to look for work. When he did, Ciri was more or less glues to Jaskier's side. They looked similar enough to be mistaken for some form of relatives at first glance, and with the new threats, Geralt was cautious to the point it boarded on paranoid about Ciri's safety.

Jaskier missed his lute, but it was better that he didn't have it; a bard traveling with a Witcher, despite his looks, was too reminisce of their previous dynamic.

As it was, the three of them were staying in an inn while a storm raged. They were low on coin so they only got one room, but after sleeping on forest floors in winter hard but warm wood would be a nice change.

They were sitting in front of the hearth eating, listening to the sound of the tavern below them.

"Where exactly are we going?" Ciri asked, poking at what was left on her plate.

Geralt, as eloquent as ever, just grunted. He hated to admit it, but he didn't know. Anyone and everyone could be an enemy, they were sitting duck staying in one place, he didn't know enough about the Wild Hunt. They were just wandering at this point.

"So, you don't know then." Jaskier hid his smirk behind his ale; he was proud, Ciri was already becoming fluent in Geralt.

"I'm guessing that you want more information on the one enemy we are severely unprepared for?" Jaskier set down his plate, looking at Geralt. The Witcher looked hesitant in his answering nod. "Well then, if I might make a suggestion. One of my colleagues at Oxenfurt has a bit of an obsession with them and their lore. He couldn't care less about the state of the world around him as long as he can continue his research and teaching. He can, and will, talk for hours on the Hunt to anyone who will listen. As long as we keep some things to ourselves, and bend other truths, he can be trusted."

"What's Oxenfurt like, Jaskier?" Ciri set her plate down too, fingers instantly going to the fire to warm.

"It's colorful, and bright, and the entire city seems to be singing. It's a city that never sleeps. Geralt will hate it." He winked at the girl, earning a mischievous smile, before turning his attention to the Witcher. "I'm finally getting you to the water. A city on the river, but close enough. Plus, I have my own room at the school, bigger and...comfier than this room. We'll have a safe to stay while we learn what we can."

Geralt hummed and sipped his ale with a familiar scowl.

"Come now, Geralt, even some direction is better than none." Jaskier lightly scolded. Geralt was frustrated, and he couldn't blame the Witcher. Everything that was going on around them put Geralt so far out of his depth, he likely would rather face the combined chaos of Yennefer and Jaskier in a pranking mood.

Anything else Jaskier might have said was cut off by a yawn from Ciri, the warmth of the room lulling her to sleep. "You take the bed, beag blath. Geralt and I will be on the floor." Jaskier nodded to the bed, nudging her shoulder.

Taking a page from Geralt's book, Ciri hummed, eyes drooping. She took off her boots and crawled under the covers, muddy hair disappearing in the sheets.

The two sat in silence as they listened to the princess fall asleep, which didn't take long. "I don't envy what the coming months will bring to her. And to you." Jaskier eyed Geralt's tense form. He could practically read the storm of thoughts in the line of his shoulders, his irritation was plain as day in the narrow slits of his pupils.

"You're not counting yourself in what's coming. Why?" Geralt's tone was equal parts confused and accusatory.

"Worry not, my dear Witcher, I'm not leaving you. If that's what you were thinking." The Witcher watched as a sad look momentarily over took those impossibly blue eyes. "I merely meant that you and her are the focus. Before, when it was just the two of us on the Path, whenever people were open with their hatred of you, Witchers, mutants, what have you, people would only see me when I made myself known. It was like I didn't exist until I defended you, and even then, the looks they gave me were just dismissive. They always treated me with kid gloves, even when you were off on your hunt."

The Witcher gave Jaskier a long, measured look. He knew that the bard's word choice was always careful, but this was a different kind of deliberate. Something was off, too specific in the words Jaskier used. The look in Jaskier's eyes was screaming something, but what it was Geralt didn't understand.

"I will only leave your side if I'm dead or otherwise forced away. Or, if you ask me to with a level head." The bard watched as Geralt tried to understand what he wasn't saying.

Chapter Text

Yennefer stepped through the swirling portal before ducking behind one of the columns of skulls. This hall brought back so many memories; at one point, she looked back to those memories with a kind of detached fondness. Now, she was half tempted to erase them for good.

The warmth of the fire light was hardly enough to drive away the cold or brighten the space.

Yennefer listened to the room around her and the world just outside. She was alone in the skull lined room where she first met Istredd, there was a storm raging past the mouth of the cavern, the waves were crashing with a vengeance against the rocks. Not far from how she was feeling, if she was being honest.

She didn't use a cloaked portal, and Aretuza had wards to alert everyone when a portal was opened. It was only a matter of time before this hall was flooded with mages who likely had the order to detain or kill her on sight.

Seeing as the last time she was around the Brotherhood she aided a fugitive escape and made a statement, Yennefer was confident that the only person on this island that was on her side was in a cell of dimeritium, or at least dimeritium chains.

Taking only one second to think about it, Yennefer should have taken a few minutes more with Geralt to think up some loose kind of plan. But there was no time to regret it now.

She could hear shouts, people running across the bridge. She could feel the air vibrating with Khaos. It would only be mere seconds before she would be surrounded.

What Yennefer had to do came to her in flashes. Her timing needed to be perfect. And she needed as much luck on her side as she could get. A prayer to the gods wouldn't be out of line either.

Yennefer pressed her back as close to the pillar in the back corner. She needed as many people in the room, off the bridge, as possible. There were a few nooks in the cavern that were large enough to hide in, and she just hoped that the people approaching would come in to look.

She nearly held her breath when she heard the footsteps echo on the ceilings and walls. The mage listened as more and more people filed into the room, listened as they inched closer to her rather exposed hiding spot. She listened as four walked quietly closer, two on each side of the pillar.

Yennefer opened another portal and stepped through seconds before the four rounded the pillar and found her. She stepped through in an empty hall near the base of Aretuza, a few hallways from where the cells were.

"Look at that, I get to kill two birds with one stone." Stregobor voice rang through the deserted hall. Yennefer whirled around and held back the urge to snarl at the old man. "I only just locked up your friend, now I wonder how you could have found out as fast as you did."

"Think too hard and you'll hurt yourself." Yennefer baited, she was running out of time. She needed to find Triss before these halls were swarming with mages.

"You were with whoever she was speaking with, weren't you?" Stregobor's grip on his staff tightened and the air around his was practically vibrating with Khaos.

Before he could do anything, though, one of the useless urns decorating the edges of the hall flew and hit the old mage square in the back of his head, knocking him unconscious and sending him to the floor.

Yennefer tensed, ready for the attacker to aim for her next. Only, instead, she was pushed through yet another portal. When she walked through the other side, the little that was in her stomach forced its way back up her throat.

When Yennefer righted herself again, she was standing in a room that she only saw on rare occasions. The bed was unmade, the desk wild in a way that Yennefer had never seen before. The owner of the room collapsed into an over stuffed chair, looking as unkempt as the room around her. Yennefer had never seen Tissaia de Vries as crumpled as she looked in that moment. Her hair was up, as it always was, but it wasn't as tight and flawless, there was stray locks escaping and the bun itself seemed to sag. There weren't bags under Tissaia's eyes, but that was only because of her enchantment. In place of her usual infallible expression, was a look of anger and worry. An amusing combination for the rectoress.

"What are you doing here, Yennefer?" The head mage whisper shouted. She looked like she was moments away from passing out, but the hypocritical worry for her student seemed to be the only thing keeping her awake.

"Where is she?" Yennefer didn't stop herself from growling at her old teacher. This woman had taught her half of what she knew, taught her how to command a room with just her presence, taught her how to believe in herself. Tissaia was ready to let Yennefer take her life at Sodden if it meant the Nilfgaard army couldn't get pass the fort. Yennefer knew that Tissaia was apart of the meeting that decided to put the bounty on the head of a twelve year old girl. And whether she had a direct hand in it or not, she was was responsible for where ever Triss was now locked.

"You were the one Triss was speaking to?" The incredulous tone and confused expression almost made Yennefer laugh.

"Where is she." Thunder boomed loudly, lightning flashing, momentarily erasing all other sounds and sources of light. Yennefer was not in the mood, and could not afford to waste time. Her window was closing faster than she could move and the panic she didn't let herself feel when Geralt told her that Triss put herself on the line was finally starting to choke her.

"Why did you come for her?" Tissaia sat up a little straighter, watching as Yennefer trembled with rage.

Yennefer marched across the room and put her hand on the arm rests of the chair, locking Tissaia in place and getting in the rectoress' personal space. "Where. Is. She."

Whatever Tissaia saw in violet eyes made her thin façade fall. She looked beaten, defeated, and regretful. She slumped back into the chair and her eyes closed. "Same cell as the Nilfgaardian soldier. Dimeritium chains. But even if you can get to her cell, you'll never be able to get away. They're tracking your portals now and you'll never be able to get away on foot with her..."

"That's why you are going to get me to her cell, with the key for her chains, and leave us. Do I make myself clear?"

Tissaia didn't nod or even open her eyes. She just pushed herself up, dug around her desk for something, before turning back to Yennefer. Tissaia held her hand out, palm up, exposing a skeleton key.

As soon as Yennefer grabbed the cool metal, a portal opened. Through the swirling magic, Yennefer could see the slumped form of Triss. Her red hair wilder than normal, finger tips tinted blue. Before she stepped through, Yennefer looked back at her old mentor. "You sentenced a scared, twelve year old to death. When did this school get so bent?" Not looking for an answer or an excuse, Yennefer stepped through the portal before Tissaia could give her an answer.

Being the fourth portal in less than fifteen minutes, Yennefer's stomach churned, begging to rid itself of its contents. But there was nothing to loose and she didn't have the time to heave. She had a mission and her window was nearly shut.

"Triss, I'm here. You'll be okay." Yen muttered, kneeling down to unlock the chains around the other witches wrists.

"You shouldn't have come." Half of her admonishment was lost to a fit of coughing. "We won't be able to get away."

"Have a little faith, my dear. I'd never leave you in trouble." Triss could barely stand, Yennefer carrying most of her weight. At the end of the hall and approaching fast they could hear heavy footsteps and angry shouting. The violet eyed witch smirked and pulled one of the Feainnewedd flowers from her dress.

She and Triss step through the untraceable portal into the front hall of Kaer Morhen. Triss's feet catch on the stones and Yennefer struggles to keep them both standing. As soon as the magical door behind them shuts there are large and calloused hands reaching forward to assist, Yen doesn't have too much energy to focus on who the hands belong to. Only knowing that they won't bring them harm as the world faded to dark.

Yennefer bolts upright and instantly regrets it. The room around her warps and spins in unnatural ways. Through the blur, she can make out the fuzzy outlines of cluttered shelves and disordered work tables. The lab, then. "Where's Triss?" She forced out. Her mouth and throat were dry and a sour taste was sitting on the back of her tongue.

"You and Geralt are so alike." Vesemir's exasperatedly fond voice rumbled somewhere to her right. "Pushing yourselves past your limits without thinking of the aftermath."

"Where's Triss?" Yen repeated, déjà vu washing over her. As seconds passed by her vision cleared, the familiar room coming into focus.

"Don't fret. She's resting in the next bed over." Vesemir nodded to the bed on her left.

When she turned her head, the walls warped again with her dizziness, but her sight cleared much faster the second time around. There, on the bed next to her, lay Triss. Yennefer stood and stumbled to the chair next to the bed. Her skin was cool and damp, red curls matted to her face and neck. The fever just low enough that Triss wasn't shivering. In a half conscious movement Yennefer reached forward and gently brushed Triss's hair away from her face.

"She'll be fine, just needs rest." Vesemir moved to be sitting on the other side of the unconscious witch. "What happened? You left with Geralt a week ago, then you fell into the dining hall with Triss, before passing out."

"The Brotherhood convinced the Northern Alliance to hunt Ciri down. Triss warned Geralt, then was cut off. I went to Aretuza to get her." Yen's eyes didn't leave Triss's face, tracking every twitch.

"Won't they know you came here?" Vesemir's word choice was careful and he spoke slowly, trying not to accuse Yennefer of turning hostile eyes to the keep. It was so, so very difficult to stay in the somewhat good graces of the Continent, only slightly easier to keep Kaer Morhen hidden from humans, mages, and all other races.

"Flowers grown where Elder blood is spilt create portals that are impossible to track." She was so focused on Triss that she didn't see it when the swords master eventually stood and left them alone. She didn't see when Lambert brought in some food and water, only noticed a try with cooled food and a pitcher hours later.

The lab grew darker, the sun setting, the fires only doing so much to light the side room the two mages were in. But Yennefer hardly noticed. She knew that Triss was sensitive to Khaos, and to dimeritium, her body was just in shock. She just needed the time for her body and her Khaos to reach her baseline again.

That didn't stop Yennefer from worrying about the other mage. There were so many instances where the silence had settled between them. When words, or actions could have filled the empty space. The secrets they told each other, both before Sodden, like two school girls trading whispers and giggles, and after Sodden, showing each other their scars. Triss's scars literal, tangible, physical but no more real than Yennefer's, pain etched on her mind and her soul.

Each giving the other access to the deepest recesses of their being, knowing and trusting the other to keep those secrets.

"Please, wake up." Yennefer's voice scratched, her head bowed, hands holding Triss's. "We have a job to do, and I have a thing or two I need to tell you."

Until Triss woke, up all Yen focused on is what she could do to track Jaskier.

After everything had calmed down, before they left the keep, the bard had trusted her enough to tell her all that Fire Fucker did to him, who he was looking for, and trusted her to fix his hands the best she could. While his hands were essentially reshaping themselves, Jaskier talked himself through the pain. Saying that there was no force on the Continent that would be strong enough for him to leave Geralt's side prematurely. His words always so careful, more so than a wordsmith needed to be.

"You look troubled." Triss's voice, trembling and weak, broke Yennefer's concentration, but it was an interruption that couldn't have made her more happy.

"It's hard not to be. How are you feeling?"

Triss groaned, trying to sit up, but gave up at Yen's hands gently keeping her in the bed. "Like shit. Where are we?"

"Kaer Morhen. I broke you out of Aretuza and brought us here." Yennefer grabbed the pitcher and poured the water into a cup for Triss.

"Won't they track the portal?" The redhead's voice was much smoother after taking a few sips of water.

"Haven't you learned by now that I'm an opportunist?" Her smile was small and soft, one that only Jaskier, Geralt and Ciri had seen before. A smile reserved for her family. "When I see rare, important ingredients, I like too keep a few on hand. And what's more rare than Feainnewedd?"

"Sneaky." Triss smiled, eyes closing, before a frown shaped her face and her brows furrowed. "Geralt was the one that I told about Ciri's bounty. How did you get to me so fast?"

"I was with them. When Geralt told us, I knew that someone had caught on to what you were doing and saw it as treason. I couldn't let you sit there if there was something I could do about it. I love you too much for that."

For a moment, it almost seemed like Triss missed the last sentence. That is, until her eyes widened, her face slack with shock while blood colored her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "I love you too." Without loosing the stunned expression tears welled in those brown eyes, but none fell.

"Rest now. When you're back at full strength, we should find Geralt and them." Yennefer kissed Triss's forehead as she fell back asleep. "Eventually, we'll all be okay again."

Chapter Text

It was the day after they left the inn when a portal opened in front of the trio. Geralt wasted no time drawing his sword and readied himself for a fight.

When the mages walked through the magic gateway all the tension melted off of him. Yennefer was sitting behind Triss on the young horse.

Yen slid off and moved to take her own mount from Jaskier. "I hope you didn't have too much fun without me." She intoned to the bard, her double meaning clear to the wordsmith.

"Nothing note worthy. You?" Jaskier tried to fight an amused smile when their party started moving once again. Geralt leading the pack, Triss and Ciri in the center making quiet conversation, and himself and Yennefer taking the rear.

"Things could have gone much worse. Most of the time I was away was just spent getting our strength back at Kaer Morhen. I see you and Geralt cleared the air."

Jaskier eyed the back of Geralt's head, knowing full well that the Witcher could hear them. "We did. And things seem different between you and Triss?"

"Yeah. No more secrets between us anymore."

The pair of them let their conversation lull, listening to the world around them and catching snippets of Ciri and Triss's conversation. Jaskier's eyes kept drifting back to Geralt's outline. He envied Yen for her courage and ability to say exactly what she wants and willingness to take the plunge to get it. "Were the dresses not fit for the winter weather?" He asked eventually, fully taking in their drastically different outfits from what he is used to seeing them in.

"Not fit for the weather, and not the easiest to ride or fight in. Despite how well I do it." The familiar haughty and slightly entitled tone was back in Yen's voice, but at this point Jaskier knew that it was for show. She was slowly piecing together the shell she used to wear for protection, but still leaving room for something that was more genuine.

"You both look good. Better." A tease was there but just as true.

"They look dirty."

"Probably because they're covered in dirt." Jaskier answered with a small laugh. "Their hair was too noticeable. Muddy hair is a weak attempt to hide their identity."

"Geralt! Come here!" Yen called to the Witcher. She looked to Triss next. "Can you do the same for Ciri?"

Triss looked confused but nodded nonetheless. Geralt rode up and their party pulled to a complete stop. Yennefer used Khaos to wash Geralt's hair, the beautiful silver once again making an appearance, before being hidden by a darker and more even coloring.

Geralt and Ciri finally look clean again while still looking completely different.

"So...what's the plan? Where are we headed?" Yen asked close to sundown. The air was cooling fast and Geralt rode ahead to scout for a shelter large enough for the five of them. The dark clouds from the previous day's storm seemed to be following them and it would be counterproductive to be caught outside if the whether turned for the worse.

"A friend of mine at Oxenfurt lives and breathes the Hunters. Seeing as they're the enemy we know least about, I suggested we look to learn more. A safe place to stay for a little while as we think of a more concrete plan."

"Smart. You sure you're the one who came up with it?" The witch teased, her innocent expression displaced by the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh, hush you. Besides, I have a class that will start to miss me if I'm not there for my usual winter term. Not to mention, hot baths, a warm room, and comfy bed all with my name on it." Jaskier raised his nose and let his haughty voice mislead the generous promise hidden in his words.

Yennefer giggled. "Hopefully, being there will help Geralt remove that chip from his shoulder."

Jaskier saw Geralt moving just behind Yen, well within earshot. "We can only hope." Geralt moved back onto the trail, mostly succeeding in hiding his smile.

"Found a cave." The Witcher grunted.

Triss, Ciri and Yen took their mounts off the path and led them to said cave, while Jaskier stayed back a ways with Geralt. "Hm, three words or less, a familiar scene. How long do you think you can keep that up?"

That barely there smile came back, softening the Witcher's face. "For long enough."

"Oh, Geralt, please don't make this into some kind of game." That was a threat as the bard dismounted, feet landing on uneven ground sending him to the side. Jaskier expertly his his grimace of pain, Geralt none the wiser as he lead his horse into the cave.

"Guess we'll see." Geralt's back was to Jaskier, but the Witcher's smirk was still heard.

Jaskier could hear Ciri laughing with Yen as Triss was telling them a story. "You, my dear, are not being fair." The bard chided. Geralt turned and, despite everything that was going wrong around them, seemed at ease. Or as much as he could be while always being ready for an attack of some kind. Jaskier felt his smile fade from his face, Geralt's expression following suit.

Geralt walked to where Jaskier was still standing at the mouth of the cave, scared fingers gripping the bard's arms with fragile care. "What's wrong?"

Like every other time Jaskier had Geralt's undivided attention, hundreds of thoughts danced through his head, all begging to be voiced. What isn't wrong he wanted to ask. Nothing he wanted to lie. I'm scared he wanted to admit. I'm so tired he wanted to say. Don't leave me alone he wanted to beg. So many things he wanted to put out into the world. Each more personal than the last. But instead, Jaskier smiled, he could feel how weak it looked, how sad, and said, "it's going to be a long winter."

"You can leave." Geralt heard everything that Jaskier left unsaid, the rare occasion. He gave Jaskier an out, an opportunity to leave and be safe. Because that was all Geralt wanted for his bard, for him to be safe.

"You know me better than that, darling. Leaving now would mean missing out on the ballad of century." Jaskier's fingers itched for something just out of his reach. He could pretend that thing was the familiar stings of his lute, but why start lying to himself now? He just wanted to trace his calloused fingers over Geralt's scars, to feel their stories, to know that he was real. That they both were real. "Besides," his voice turned serious, "I can't leave Yen."

"You hate her."

Jaskier moved closer to the wall of the cave, the wind was picking up and he needed to sit down. "Not really. She's like the older sister I never had. I hate how annoying she is, and I hate how often she's right, and I hate how she knows when I'm lying, and I hate how she won't let me wallow and brood, and I hate how she knows more about me than I'm comfortable with. But she was there when I needed her, she protected me when I couldn't do it myself, she helped me pick up some broken pieces. She's brave and I envy that."

Rather than watch as Triss leaned against Yennefer's side as the latter continued Ciri's lessons, Jaskier turned to Geralt who had sat down next to him. He missed the Witcher's silver, it made his amber eyes pop beautifully. But with this dark brown, Geralt's eyes seemed to glow in a way that would be eerie to anyone who wasn't familiar to them.

"What happened?" Geralt shifted and Jaskier became hyperaware of how close they were sitting. He could feel the warmth radiating from the Witcher.

Jaskier forced a laugh. "Oh, come on! I know we turned this into a game, but at some point you will need to use longer sentences. There's only so long you can go before what you need to say exceeds that three word limit." A tease, a deflection.

"Jaskier." That one word reprimand. Geralt had said it so many times before, usually delivered with a growl. This time it was chiding but soft.

When Jaskier looked at his Witcher he was stuck by how human Geralt looked with dark hair when looking at his family. When Geralt looked at any of them, his pupils were rounded to the point if it weren't for the beautiful, rare, striking color, they could be mistaken for human.

"I told you already, just before we met up with the dwarves, she saved me. I owe her my life, and so much more." Jaskier couldn't stop himself from looking at his hands where they sat limply in his lap. They itched for something to do. "How long after the trials until you were able to talk, or even think about them, without feeling that pain you went through. Without feeling like you couldn't breathe, like it was still happening?"

Geralt knew the answer immediately, but still took the time to pinpoint the first time he spoke about it out loud without succumbing to panic. The phantom pain was still there when he first told the horror story aloud, but his throat didn't close to the point he couldn't talk, his eyes misted but the tears didn't fall. "Thirteen years."

"It's hardly been a month for me. I trust you to know, but I can't talk about it yet. I just need more time."

"I understand."

Geralt was sitting at the mouth of that cave keeping watch. He was right about the storm following them; barely an hour after the conversation with Jaskier a mix of cold rain and hard snow began falling from the sky. The kind of weather that would have been a nightmare to travel in. Geralt was used to being outside and traveling in every kind of weather, but the people he was traveling with were not, not even Jaskier who had spent nearly twenty years at his side had permitted them to be outside when the wind and rain was this strong.

Geralt found this weather peaceful. It was a white noise that no one could be put out by. Even Jaskier, who hated silence, wouldn't do anything but listen to the falling rain and wind.

Before, it was the rare time the bard wouldn't be making some kind of noise. Now, though? Jaskier was quiet almost as much as he was talking, singing or humming. He'd never say it out loud, but Jaskier's quite was unsettling Geralt. He knew that is was because of whatever Yennefer had saved him from in Oxenfurt. But it still made Geralt uneasy, made him wonder what exactly what happened to Jaskier, and who he would be paying a visit to once the Usurper was dead.

His thoughts of his growing hit list were stopped by someone's elevated heartbeat and quickened breathing. At first Geralt thought it was Ciri, but when he walked closer, he realized that it was Jaskier who was having a nightmare. Geralt was walking closer to everyone's sleeping forms when Yennefer woke.

The two of them made eye contact and Geralt saw the pain in her eyes. She turned and gently shook the bard awake. Jaskier woke suddenly, his fear spiking, the smell of it made Geralt swallow thickly. Geralt watched, helpless and worried, as Jaskier sat up, his hands shaking as they were held in the air between his knees.

"I didn't tell him anything. He doesn't know. It's not my fault. I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him." Jaskier whispered over and over and over, tears running down his face.

Yennefer was careful not to touch the bards hands as she moved the two of them so Jaskier was essentially sitting in her lap. "We know, Jaskier. It's okay now. You're safe and he'll never come near you again. Remember where you are. You're all better and you're safe. You have a renowned Witcher, two powerful mages and Ciri here to keep you safe. He didn't find them and you're safe with us." On hand rested on Jaskier's knee, while the other combed through and pet the bards hair. Yennefer was uncharacteristically gentle with him, a gentleness that Geralt had only seen a handful of times in the centuries they had known each other.

Eventually, Yennefer coaxed Jaskier back to sleep, but she didn't let him go, only shifted so his head was pillowed by her lap. When she was sure that he wouldn't wake up by talking she finally acknowledged Geralt again. He had watched the entire exchange from where he stopped when Yen woke up. "What has he told you?"

"Just that you saved his life in Oxenfurt and he wants to tell me but needs more time."

Yen looked conflicted as she argued with herself about what she could and should tell the Witcher. "I won't betray his trust by telling you what happened, and what I am about to tell you stays between us. You should at least know what will set him off in case I'm not around to calm him down. Unless he initiates it, never touch his hands. And just try to reassure him that he's safe and he did good and it's not his fault."

Geralt nodded and moved back to the mouth of the cave. After talking with Jaskier, he was curious, but after what Yennefer just told him, that general curiosity turned into fully formed questions. What exactly happened to Jaskier? What didn't he tell? Who was him? How could he help his bard?