The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt fanfiction

A Different Path Taken

Chapter 1 – The Battle at Kaer Morhen

A flicker of white light escaped through the crack of the main gate of Kaer Morhen before frost crept into the splinters of the old wooden doors. They shook with renewed vigor as an unnatural, otherworldly chill reached Geralt. He could see his breath, he could feel the coldness in his very bones, but his wolven eyes remained fixated on the shaking gate. He knew what and who was on the other side of it—and he knew their plan would fail if the Wild Hunt breached the main gate.

Yennefer felt her strength fading—she had been able to maintain the shield for a while, but somehow, this wave was stronger, more powerful than all the other portals the Wild Hunt had opened combined. She panted, pushing the shield up with her last efforts—and the Hunt seemed to take note. They too increased the level of their power, and Yennefer could stand it no more.
Her vision clouded and darkened, her legs trembling for a few moments before they gave way, and she fell against the cold pavement as her mind went blank.

Barely a moment after, the gates burst open, a wave of frost engulfing the entire inner courtyard of the fortress, stopping all in its path, turning them into unmoving silhouettes, trapped in deadly ice. Geralt had braced himself. He had been determined to face the Hunt, but his determination had been in vain. He and Eskel had been the first victims of the growing coldness, of the Wild Hunt's frost, captured, statues in the Wild Hunt's path and under Ciri and Vesemir's horrified looks.
The old Witcher suddenly tore his yellow eyes away from his friends and looked at Ciri. She was there, in the Frost's path, staring at the whiteness before her and at the tall silhouettes emerging from the portal. He couldn't allow that. She had to flee, save herself.
He tackled her to the ground, pulling her out of the deadly Frost's path, out of the Hunt's sight. And it turned out he did it right on time too.

Figures clad in metal armor emerged, their boots clanking against the pavement of the keep…and the first one to emerge was the navigator, Caranthir. His staff almost seemed to glow with ghastly light as he advanced, hounds at his heels and warriors following close behind him.

Vesemir peered from behind a low wall—the Wild Hunt were not headed in his direction yet. He lowered himself again, lifting Ciri's sword off the ground and gently pushing it back in the scabbard strapped to the girl's back.

"Come." He said, gently supporting her as he took up his own silver sword—which had fallen on the ground. They hurriedly passed by Eskel's frozen form.

"W-where is he…?" Ciri panted softly, turning to glance back at the frozen Geralt as Vesemir continued pulling her along. He wasn't keen on leaving Geralt, Eskel, Lambert and all their allies there, but at the same time, he was unwilling to let the Hunt get their hands on Ciri.

Brute force of steel suddenly collided with Vesemir's body—out of nowhere, one of the Wild Hunt generals appeared in Ciri's sight just as Vesemir tumbled across the pavement. Imlerith.
But Ciri didn't get a chance to help him—or even move for that matter—before someone yanked her back by her hair, eliciting a yelp of pain from her as she reached to grab her attacker.

"You shan't escape me this time." The King of the Wild Hunt said darkly as he stepped back, keeping his concealed gaze on the fight before him.

Vesemir quickly glanced in Ciri's direction when her shouts reached his ears, only to see that the King of the Wild Hunt had captured her and was moving away towards the nearest of his open portals. He turned back towards his opponent—Imlerith—whose steel mace had almost descended on the old witcher, but Vesemir had not lost his instincts, nor his skill in a fight. He swiftly dodged out of the way, almost instantly striking at Imlerith's legs with his silver sword—but the General blocked his sword with the staff of his mace. Vesemir then tried to switch tactics, stepping sideways as he moved to strike at Imlerith's legs again, but the tall warrior once again parried. From the corner of his yellow eyes, Vesemir saw Imlerith's shield move, and he didn't wait to see its trajectory. He ducked, pushing with all his strength past Imlerith's mace and into the crevices of the armor bellow his knee, knocking him on his back.
The witcher then instantly sprinted towards Eredin, just as Imlerith pushed himself up to his feet, piercing the ground with the lower point of his shield as he glared angrily at the departing witcher.

Ciri continued yelping and struggling in Eredin's grip as he ruthlessly dragged her, without the slightest hesitation or glance back.

But the King of the Wild Hunt had not let his guard down. He turned around just in time to see the old witcher about to strike at him—inconvenient for sure, but he was not a threat to Eredin. Only a nuisance, whose fate he could not care less about. He blocked his first upper strike—probably aimed at his head or shoulder—with ease, then pointed his sword downwards, parrying the witcher's second attack—a low strike aimed at his side.
Perhaps unnoticed and ignored by both of them, in their fight they mirrored each other's intentions almost as much as they mirrored each other's next action: the two spun with unnatural grace and speed—but the witcher was faster than the King of the Wild Hunt.
Eredin had only managed to turn halfway when Vesemir's sword slashed at his momentarily exposed side, and he let out a grunt, losing his grip on the object of his hunt as he spun back.

Ciri panted heavily as she fell, the pain from having her hair pulled still fresh as she tried to gather her strength. But Vesemir knew she'd have no time to get on her feet. The Wild Hunt general he had fought earlier strode towards him, having dropped his shield and mace at the same time. He was coming for Ciri, and Vesemir was intent on making sure he'd never have her. No matter the cost.

He summoned a blast of Aard, sending Ciri tumbling away across the pavement just as Imlerith's boot collided with his body, knocking him back as pain coursed through him, horrible pain, to the point the old witcher could not get up. He groaned and grunted, clutching his side as he tried to reach for his sword with his other hand, but before he could even touch its hilt, Imlerith's boot pushed hard against his wrist, causing his bones to crack underneath the pressure as his entire arm went numb with pain. He yelled, but he did not relent in his struggle.

Ciri stumbled to her feet as she unsheathed her sword, forcing herself to stand in spite of the dizziness, in spite of the feeling of weakness in her legs, in spite of the fact that she felt the ground move beneath her, she stood, preparing herself to strike at her foes, at those who threatened her life and the lives of those she loved… But the moment she looked up was the moment her eyes fell upon the King of the Wild Hunt and many of his warriors following close behind him, approaching from the darkness of a portal.
She assessed the situation, but the more moments passed, the more she realized there was nothing she could do. She was surrounded by the warriors and hounds of the Wild Hunt, her friends were frozen and Vesemir… her gaze sought him, and it wasn't hard to spot him considering his grunting and the crack of his bones as Imlerith's steel gauntlets came in contact with his head and body.

Ciri stood helpless in the middle of the fortress' inner courtyard, staring in horror as the Wild Hunt general beat Vesemir without so much as a moment of hesitation, and without allowing him the chance to resist him, he overpowered him. She was aware of the Wild Hunt's cruelty, but she had never believed them to be quite so similar to monsters.

Through his skeletal mask, the King of the Wild Hunt watched Cirilla's desperation, he observed her fear—which, although different from the one he had seen in the eyes of all those pathetic humans before he had killed them—was still fear. And he knew he had the means to make the girl come with him, willingly.

"Imlerith!" He called to his subordinate, his dark, rough voice commanding Imlerith to pin Vesemir to the wall as the old Witcher grunted and struggled. But he was still alive.

Ciri took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down as her gaze shifted between the one called Imlerith and the King of the Wild Hunt. To her surprise, he took his mask off, and Ciri knew it was not a gesture of trust, but something entirely different. He was planning something. And Vesemir's life would depend on it, that much Ciri could tell already.

"Run!" Vesemir shouted, still struggling and trying vainly to pry Imlerith's grip away from his throat.. The Wild Hunt General was too strong, and there was no getting out of his grasp.

"Damn it, get out of here!" Vesemir cursed to himself. This was no time for her stubbornness. She had to leave, she had to run!

"She'll not abandon you." Eredin turned to Vesemir, his tone full of disdain, disgust and confidence all at once. "You humans are so…impractical." he added with smugness in his voice as he grinned and then returned his attention to Ciri, and the young woman could clearly see the malice and arrogance inside his cold blue eyes.

The growls of the Hounds of the Wild Hunt echoed all around them as they came to stand at the warriors' heels, snarling and waiting to lunge. But they too, much like their masters, had their sights fixed on the Child of the Elder Blood.

The King of the Wild Hunt then lifted his arm, holding his hand out to her, inviting her to come with him. He was clearly confident in his acts of persuasion, just as his warriors were confident in their king's tactics. None of them had made any move towards her, instead, they stood their ground, waiting for their leader's command…or for her decision.

Ciri looked around desperately; there was no way out, and no way to reach her friend in time to save him. Her gaze locked with Eredin's. This was the only chance she had at saving Vesemir, and she wasn't going to miss it. He had put his life on the line for her, but she wouldn't let him make this sacrifice.

"Ciri, no!" Vesemir yelled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. As if he knew the decision she had taken. And Ciri wasn't surprised at that; he knew her, he had trained her, he had put up with her stubbornness and he had pushed her to overcome her limits-and she was grateful for that.

She wanted to listen to him, to do as he told her, but Ciri's decision had been made. Leaving him to die was not a choice to begin with. She allowed her sword to fall from her grasp, and it dropped against the pavement with a loud clank. She did not look at it, she did not waver. Slowly, she began walking towards the King of the Wild Hunt.
There was no hesitation in her movements, but her bearing was full of disappointment, disillusionment and contempt toward Eredin and the Wild Hunt.

"Aargh! I forbid you!" Vesemir grunted, but it was as if his words went unheard.

Eredin's eyes narrowed as he watched Cirilla approach, and he stood there, waiting for her, certain of his victory.

And his confidence only added more to Ciri's worry; what if he decided to have Vesemir killed because he had gotten what he wanted? What if he decided to kill everyone? She hoped that wouldn't be the case. That he would at least spare Vesemir…and no one she cared about would have to die. She had come to Kaer Morhen against her better judgment, fully aware of the Wild Hunt's strength, but she had desperately wanted to believe that they could stand against them; she had been foolish, she realized. It had been the wrong decision. She had endangered everyone. Unless Ciri prevented it, it would cost many of her loved ones' lives. Unless she gave the Wild Hunt a reason to leave, and hope they would not destroy what they left behind.

She glared at Eredin briefly before she put her hand in his, only to cast a regretful glance in Vesemir's direction a few moments later. She then looked back at the King of the Wild Hunt, noticing a subtle hint of annoyance on his face.

"I want to know he's safe before coming with you." She paused, strengthening her tone as she voiced her words into a demand in a way that he would understand—that was his way after all. "I need to see him leave safely and unharmed, and only then will I come with you."

He tilted his head, narrowing his cold eyes, warning her. His persuasive gaze almost burned into her, but she would not allow herself to be intimidated by him.

"Spare his life and I'll do as you asked," She continued, staring into his cold gaze, almost expecting him to deny her request. She subtly eyed his sword, but she doubted she would have enough time to reach it and use it-or save Vesemir.

"Very well." Eredin eventually nodded his head, slowly, his eyes watching her every move. "He shall be the last thing you see before we enter the portal." He gestured towards the orb of swirling frost, and Ciri knew there was no getting out of it this time. But she was going to make sure Eredin would not go back on his word.

"Alive." Ciri looked him in the eye. "I'm coming with you, but I need to know everyone I care about will still be alive."

The King of the Wild Hunt said nothing, but he nodded subtly, and Ciri could only hope he was going to respect her conditions.

"Ciri, don't!" Vesemir shouted, but Ciri only briefly glanced at him. She had often gone against his will at Kaer Morhen, and she couldn't recall a time she had wanted to listen to him, to do as he said the way she wanted now.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vesemir," she said painfully, stopping for a few moments to glance at the fortress she had once called home, knowing it might be the last time she ever saw it.

"Go on, Zireael." The King of the Wild Hunt ordered, gesturing towards the portal. Ciri glared, but did as she was told.

Vesemir's life was at stake, and she had no choice but to obey Eredin—at least for the time being. All she could hope was that he wouldn't kill Vesemir or anyone who mattered to her.

She walked firmly towards the swirling orb, her pace constant and her eyes fixated on the portal. The thought of going with the Wild Hunt, surrendering to them after running from them for so long angered her, frustrated her and gave her the overwhelming urge to plunge a sword through Imlerith's chest and take Eredin's head. But she had no means to escape without further endangering her loved ones.

"Goodbye," Ciri thought, but she didn't say it aloud as she stopped in front of the portal and then turned around, taking a last look at the fortress of Kaer Morhen—the place that had been her home, the place where her training and her life had truly begun. "Goodbye." Only this time she had not whispered it softly but rather out loud, not caring if Eredin or any of his soldiers heard it. Not caring about the way Eredin's lips stretched into a small smirk as a disdainful expression appeared on his stone hard face…or at least that was what she told herself. Yet, anger seemed to rise like fire inside her at the sight.

Her gaze wandered over to the retreating Wild Hunt warriors, wanting to make sure they would not hurt anyone. Then her eyes fell on Vesemir, who was still pinned to the wall by Imlerith, his grasp hard and unforgiving, as if the General was ready to snap the witcher's neck on command.

She then glanced at Eredin, her gaze pleading him to keep his promise, the desperation in her gaze reminding him of just how easily manipulated humans were when the lives of those they cared about were on the line. And as the King of the Wild Hunt regarded her, he knew leaving the old man alive was the right move to do. He was not a threat to him, only a nuisance; keeping him alive would mean he would have more control, and Ciri would be more likely to trust him and cooperate.

He turned towards his general. "Imlerith, drop him!" He ordered.

Ciri's eyes widened in shock as she briefly glanced at Eredin. She hadn't expected him to keep his word whatsoever, and she most definitely hadn't expected him to order his general not to kill. It didn't lessen her hate of him, of course, but at least this way she knew she had made the right decision to save Vesemir and the others...the ones who had almost died for her.

For a moment, she could see hesitation in Imlerith, though his fingers were still firmly wrapped around Vesemir's neck. Was he so bloodthirsty that he would disobey his king's orders? Or had Eredin put on an act just to convince her?

Her breath hitched in her throat, her gaze shifted desperately between Eredin—who had his back turned on her—and Imlerith, the one who had pursued her, the one who now looked like he was about to kill her Uncle, in spite of the deal she had just made with his King.

Imlerith peered over his shoulder just enough to look at Eredin, his King, as if to make sure this was what his leader truly wanted of him.

Ciri had never seen him do that before. The King of the Wild Hunt gave an order and all followed it, no hesitation, no second thoughts, and no reassurances. Yet, here they were, the King of the Wild Hunt and his general, exchanging glances—a general questioning his leader, and Ciri could only hope that it would be in Vesemir's favor.

But Ciri had no more patience to watch their exchange, not in this situation. She started towards Imlerith, but she had barely taken a step forward when a strong hand gripped her tightly around her arm and yanked her back.

"You told me you'd keep him alive!" She shouted, and she knew from the moment her eyes met Eredin's cold gaze that he was displeased. Normally she couldn't have cared less, but now Vesemir's fate was decided by him alone. "You promised!"

"I've promised no such thing." He replied coldly, his gaze indifferent and emotionless.

Ciri then realized...she had fallen into a trap. She, and all her loved ones were at his mercy—and she doubted he had any.

"Imlerith!" The King of the Wild Hunt signaled his subordinate. As he flicked his wrist towards the portal, Ciri could tell he had given him his final order, but whether it was the same order as before or a different one was impossible for her to tell.

The General returned his attention to Vesemir, tightening his grip—much to Ciri's horror—and his eyes began bulging, his skin started to take on a purplish-blue shade as his breath began to slowly leave him. His legs kicked back and forth, his usual controlled movements now shaky and twitchy as his strength faded away from him.

Then all of the sudden, the Wild Hunt General threw the witcher to the ground, sending him rolling over Kaer Morhen's paved and grassy inner courtyard. Vesemir grunted, attempting to stop himself, but before he could recover his strength, his body collided with the base of a wall, and then he moved no more.

"Vesemir!" Ciri cried desperately as she tried pulling her arm out of his grasp with all her strength—but it was useless. All it did was cause her pain as Eredin dragged her to the portal. She clutched his forearm, trying to stall him—or at least weaken his hold on her. "I need to see he's alright!" She shouted.

"He's alive, unless the old man died from exhaustion." The King of the Wild Hunt replied impassively, clearly irritated as he continued dragging Ciri—or the object of his Hunt—towards the portal.

"You're going to regret this!" She yelled, gritting her teeth in anger, but he only chuckled arrogantly as they entered, followed by all his warriors, all his hunters, all those who had pursued her and whom she had not managed to kill.
The remainder of the Wild Hunt warriors followed their leader through the portals, receiving no further orders. They had captured the object of their Hunt. Their king had led them to victory.

When the sun had risen and the Wild Hunt's magic had faded, the first thing Geralt heard was Vesemir's cursing. He forced himself to move, breaking the thin ice that had enclosed him only seconds ago. He saw Lambert do the same, but his eyes instantly sought his surroundings for one person in particular: Ciri. Hearing Vesemir's pained voice and his alarmed cursing made him think of the worst-though he pushed his thoughts away as he ran over to the old witcher.

"What happened? He asked urgently, his wolven gaze shifting frantically between Vesemir and the courtyard. "Where is Ciri!?"

"They took her." Vesemir said grimly. "She's gone."

My first Witcher fanfiction ever :D And I have so much planned for this one, as well as for the one that I'll post soon (also Witcher). They're both set in the game but there will be some book references in the future.

I'd love to hear your opinions here, or on tumblr :D Good or bad, send them my way, I've always believed that constructive criticism and opinions in general help us improve, moreover, they're the best thing a writer can get :)

I also made a cover image for this fanfic (and chapter), you can find the link to it on my profile since this site hates links

I'll probably make a new one for each chapter because I love photo editing and I love making stuff, so I'll post the link at the beginning and end of each chapter (since don't allow for images).

Last but not least, I'd like to thank Vic-of-thor and direSin, for their thorough checking, advice, suggestions and opinions on this fanfic. Thank you both.

I do NOT own anything. I have only written this fanfic out of love and appreciation for the wonderful universe of the Witcher.