A/N: Here is my jab at the Witcher fandom. I tried to get a couple of different POVs going, as well as present an idea of mine. Read, Review, and please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to, or resembling the Witcher franchise, or anything else you may recognize. I make no money off this story. Intellectual rights of the above belong to Andrzej Sapkowski.

"Vesemir, something occurred to me this morning."

The spry, quick-witted old man sitting at the table before me paused, drink halfway to his lips. "Oh?" he said, "Is this about Ciri? Or perhaps about your seeming shift in fascination back from redheaded furies to raven-haired beauties?"

"Ciri," I stated, ignoring the jab. "I wanted to think about it a little more before I mentioned this, get my thoughts together." Sitting down, I continued to explain, "When I dream of Ciri, I mentioned it can be prophetic; that it usually means more than a simple dream. My thought, what occurred to me, is what if these dreams tell more than I think they do?"

The Old Wolf paused for a moment, staring into his drink. Then he cursed, and finished it off. "If that is the case, then it implies a number of things: most significantly a showdown between you and the Wild Hunt over Ciri."

Putting his empty mug down, he leaned toward me across the table, as though to convey a secret of utmost importance, despite our lack of need for such things: I could have heard his cautious whispers from the other side of the tavern.

"If you plan to have this showdown at Kaer Morhen, then we will need two things: time, and allies. I don't have many I would trust with something like this, and I doubt all of us together can call up enough aid to stop the Red Riders."

I let my skepticism show. "Why would we assume that this will happen the way I dreamt it? If it happ-"

"Don't be a fool, Geralt. I've read the records of your Trials. No one alive actually knows what those extra mutations did to you. What we do know is that you lost pigmentation, grew even more resistant to poisons and magic, and that in the middle of it all you called out to Yenneffer, clearly, and with desperation."

"What?" I'm shocked. I do not remember much of my time in the Trial of the Grasses. Nor of the additional experiments afterwards. Mostly, I remember pain. I didn't even know there were surviving records after the sack of Kaer Morhen.

Clearly however, my confusion showed and was enough to give Vesemir pause, leaning back in surprise. "You didn't know? I always thought-," he pauses, some comprehension dawning in his mind. shaking his head, he continues, "Never mind. I will show you the records next time we are in Kaer Morhen." Regaining his resolve, he leans forward again, speaking even quieter than before. "What matters now is that you have shown evidence of foresight in the past, and discarding your instincts and dreams would be a foolish decision for either of us."

"Then what do you suggest? We have damned few allies, and no idea of timing to ready ourselves."

"But we do have signs to give us warning, and a goal to work towards." There is a strange light in the Old Wolf's yellow eyes. A light I have not seen in years. "Ciri and the Wild Hunt drawing closer to you. The moment you hear about our wayward witcheress, you send me word, and I will know that time is short. From that point, you must make efforts to secure her safety from the Wild Hunt, and to buy us time before the battle at Kaer Morhen."

A battle? Already? In a ruined keep? "I think we are getting ahead of ourselves here." I found myself leaning forward, an energy gripping me. "First, as you said, we taught her to defend herself from anything. I doubt she will want us to wrap her in blankets, and hide her away." Especially not if she had ever experienced what I did now: the thrill of hunting an exceptionally dangerous foe. "Second, Kaer Morhen? I love my home too, but it has been decades since we could have used it to hold off a siege of any true strength. And Eredin will surely come in strength, if he comes at all."

The energy I felt was clearly reflected in the Old Wolf's smirk. "That is why we need time. Time to gather allies: everything from warriors, to mages, to carpenters."

"Carpenters?"

"We are not planning a single battle here, but a war. Success will be measured not in a victory, but in endurance. I have spent decades lamenting the state of Kaer Morhen, compiling all that would be needed to make her proud again. Not the least of which is the services of a number of craftsmen, of differing trades, and all exceptional."

The Old Wolf pauses, considering something. "I know a few that have expressed a willingness to help in the past. All for prices that would only make sense if we were going to rebuild the keep in its entirety, and rebuild the School."

"Which is something none of us truly want to do." Not if it meant using the Trial again.

"Mmhmm. But if we plan to defend against a foe of some magnitude, and are going to do so in defense of one of our own..."

"Then the price is no longer as exorbitant. Meaning we may afford to hire out craftsmen and workers to rebuild the keep."

Vesemir smiled. "Exactly. But that is a matter for another time. First we must find such craftsmen that might be willing to join with us."

It was my turn to smile. "Actually, there may be one in town. A dwarf whose forge was burned down by a former customer of his. And the Nilfgardians don't pay him all that well either."

"Now you're getting it. But let's not get put the contract before the blade. We first need something resembling a time table, and an outside confirmation. We can't just put this man's life on hold for a few decades because we might have a wraith problem. Yenneffer first. Then we can start gathering information on this clash. Get ourselves a proper timetable for resources and craftsmen."

"About that, I spoke with the Nilfgardian Commander here. Says he knows which way she went, but..."

"...First he wants us to kill the Griffin for him." He nodded sagely. "What else could he want from two witchers? Come on. What do you know?"

My smile faded as I returned to business. "Still need to investigate its lair, out in the Vulpine Woods. Picked up the buckthorn already. The local herbalist, one Tomira, pointed me towards a riverbed that had plenty."

Vesemir sniffed at the air, likely scenting the herb through the sealed and soaked leather sack I had used to prevent the stench of buckthorn from spreading far, "Powerful scent. Ought to work like a charm"

"More like stench."

My disgust must have shown, because the Old Wolf regained his grin with a slight mock to it. "City boy. Rot, piss, manure. Standard smells of the countryside." The Old Wolf's smile turned nostalgic. "You remember hunting for that that Zeugel? Waist deep in the sewers? You spent half the next day bathing! Scrubbing yourself!"

"Uh-huh. You ever gonna stop bringing that up?"

"Hmmph. Not likely. You go check out the lair. I'll start looking for a place to ambush this Griffin. Meet back here when we're done."

"After we find Yenneffer, got your eye on a contract?"

I pause, regarding the scarred Wolf beside me, his white hair clearly visible in the early morning light. We were crouched in a field outside White Orchard, this small town a day's ride from Vizima and well within territory held by Emperor Emhyr. Hopefully this Griffin contract would be a strong step towards solidifying our reputation as honorable, neutral professionals in Nilfgard's minds. Not the easiest thing to do when we all take violations of our code, and threats to our own very seriously.

Taking a moment, I think about our discussion earlier. I had never bought into prophecy: too many variables, and not enough facts. But I did trust my instincts, and my instincts said to heed Geralt's concern. Prophecies were wrong all the time. However, I could not recall a time, even in my extended years, when a witcher's instincts had been wrong. "In a sense. Earlier we discussed rebuilding Kaer Morhen. I'll dispatch letters to the contacts that I can trust to keep their mouths shut, and go there to begin my winter early." I glance away from the White Wolf, back towards the bait. "That said, I have some advice for anyone you send our way."

"Such as?"

That tone: so much open curiosity covered over with enough scorn to drive wedges and make others underestimate him. It was perfect for a witcher. It allowed him to goad answers and information from unsuspecting targets, while allowing him room to return his own knowledge and wisdom. I grin: such a wolf.

"Send them around the western side of the mountains if you can. Nilfgard's crossed the Pontar in the East. Puts them maybe a week's ride from Kaer Morhen. I have no desire to cover our tracks in that direction, only to see it cleared again by some dumbass with a cart."

"You think Nilfgard will try to take Kaer Morhen?"

"I think the mountain pass will be too good an opportunity to ignore. A small contingent could hold it indefinitely if prepared, but if left open, an army could pass through unimpeded. Novigrad could fall in a month if Emhyr gets it in his mind to go that route. Only way I know to prevent it is with secrecy: if there is no evidence of a pass, then Nilfgard is more likely to use the mountains to split their foes in two."

"All assuming they don't know about it already. Emhyr is no fool, and he knows Kaer Morhen is in those mountains somewhere. Even sacked, it was built where it is for a reason."

"Hopefully, the thought of marching an army through the thick wilderness will be enough to put his generals off the idea." Worst case, we can lay out some traps, or perhaps Liana can heighten the magical defenses. Hmm. It would be good to see her again. Perhaps there is another advantage to following a White Wolf's lead in this matter. "Also, a second piece of advice: Don't invite too many people, got it? Be selective. Only the best, and brightest need apply."

"Of course. That said, I could probably invite whole villages, and we still won't fill that valley."

"No, but we may find ourselves kicked out of our home the winter afterwards. Or come home to find it empty, or torn down to make new homes. We need to rebuild Kaer Morhen. We do not need to build a settlement in the mountains."

"Hmmm. A good point. So that rules out large families, folk of privilege, and people looking for a new home." Geralt looks contemplative. As though he hadn't thought such a group could cause us trouble down the line. Perhaps he hadn't.

I decide to have mercy on my old student. "A handful of such people won't kill us. It is when they get it in their minds to take what is not theirs because we are gone 9 months out of the year that it becomes a problem. Might simply have to stay in the keep for a few years until things settle down."

The younger Wolf sounds surprised. "You willing to play the part of the Mountain King? Ruling over a small nation away from civilization?"

"Hmmph. Not if I can help it. But if this…showdown with the Hunt doesn't happen this year, then someone may have to." Especially if it doesn't happen this year. Dammit, old Wolf! You need to stop finding new responsibilities like this. "Any thoughts on how we can find an outside confirmation of your dream?"

Geralt inhales slightly, and I can almost smell his mind working. "Perhaps. Yenneffer was there at the start of my dream. If that is more than just wishful thinking, she may know something. And if she does, you may want to stick around for a moment to hear it, rather than wait for my letter."

I nod, thinking of a few good taverns in Vizima that I hoped had not been destroyed, or had at least been rebuilt. "Probably a good idea. Once she gives us enough confirmation to be sure, I'll split off to Kaer Morhen."

I glance towards my most well-known student. "Speaking of wintering and rebuilding, think you'll come this year?" I hope so. It would be good to have more hands nearby. Especially if we were going to put some real work into the old castle, rather than sit around yapping our jaws all winter.

"Maybe." Geralt has hope in his eyes, perhaps dreaming of that mythical quiet time with his raven-haired sorceress. "Might bring a guest.

"Yen's in Vizima. Got a few friends there, so…"

The grizzled Old Wolf before me was shaking his head. Something was distracting him. "What's wrong?"

"Look. Trouble's brewing."

I glanced to the next table. A number of thugs, playing a game of Five Finger Fillet, sat there smelling as though they had bathed in alcohol. A problem for the local tavern mistress to handle in her own time. Or to not, and risk whatever consequences happened. If we stayed, the killing would happen at our hands, no doubt. "Time we were on our way."

Vesemir nodded, clearly having come to the same conclusion. "I'll grab some provisions, then we will be on our way." Standing up, he spoke more quietly, so as not to be overheard. "Geralt, we should stay out of it. Just this once."

Letting the Old Wolf go, I considered what he had said. Even after all these years on the road, after all the pain and suffering I had seen, and caused, I still wanted to interfere, to help those that needed it. Deep down, I was still that boy out on the Path for the first time, getting suckered into helping everyone I saw. Shit, even the trader Bram had walked away from death without paying even a copper. Although his cousin had certainly paid her dues in his stead: Elsa's fried chicken, and country liquor had been welcome gifts.

But wasn't that what kept me going? Those nights when I wondered if being a witcher was worth it? When the thrill of the hunt, or the places I'd seen left me alone with my thoughts? Wasn't it the thought that I had made at least one life better, that I had protected at least one person, that kept me going on those hard nights?

No, I concluded. Those were not enough to keep me on the Path forever. I had no intention of hanging up my sword. Cynicism, and age had shown me that there would always be one more fight to be fought. There would always be one more arrogant asshole out to take what wasn't his. If I ever chose to settle, then it would be in a place that I could keep my skills sharp, and my blades in use.

There were also my friends to consider. I knew better than to try dragging them all with me to some obscure corner of the world for a retirement away from it all. Yen would grow bored and restless without a project no doubt. She had always enjoyed a challenge and I could imagine very little that could drag her away her efforts. Ciri had her own Path to live, precocious she-devil that she always was. She was probably enjoying her time on the Path, bar any unexpected visits from Eredin. Triss…I had no idea what Triss wanted anymore. But speaking with her was a challenge that I had no desire to face without some serious help. Dandelion? He had a plan for his life, and it had not been a half-century of poetry yet, I feared.

"…say Nilfgard's no place for superstition. That they don't fear the wrath of the gods! And You! Do you fear it?! Do you fear the gods wrath?!" I look up, back in the moment, seeing the innkeeper's head being slammed against the countertop by a younger dark-haired woman and Vesemir stepping in to break it up.

"Leave me be!" The young woman shouted as Vesemir stopped her. Worse than I am: Protect the Pack had always been his mentality. And that pack was shockingly easy to find at least a temporary place in.

I stood up to help my old mentor straighten this out, only realizing my mistake when I heard benches being moved as the thugs from earlier stood up to follow me. Vesemir could handle a pair of quarreling villagers, but the two of us together made for a threatening image. We hadn't left fast enough to avoid trouble after all.

The older innkeeper is holding a bloody nose when I reach the countertop. "Are you allright?" I ask. She glances up, eyes a touch glazed as she nods. Concussion probably. We should let Tomira know before we leave.

The sides for the impending fight lined up quickly as I turned around. Two witchers standing across from a half-dozen thuggish farmhands armed with nothing more than knives, frustration, and alcohol. "You see this Medallion? Do you know what it means? Back off!" Seems to me that Vesemir has seen the outcome to this far too often. Still, one more offer for the other side to walk away never hurt when trying to calm things down.

As they eye us up though, it occurs to me that the Old Wolf's efforts had been in vain. There was no clear thought among these thugs, except that they had had enough of being pushed around in land that should have been theirs.

"They say witchers steal youngin's! Is that true?"

"What did the Emperor promise you? Your own land? Like he did the elves once?"

We draw our steel blades, committing ourselves to the lives we were about to take. Neither of us had ever trained in merciful fighting. If a witcher strikes with a blade, he strikes for death. By drawing our blades, we made our intentions clear. "They won't back down now," the Old Wolf grumbles.

"I can see that."

A/N: And there is chapter one of Time and Allies. Let me know what you think. It is uncertain if I will write more of this. I really just wanted to get it out of my brain.