Davos looked at the boy. He was tall and lean. His cheeks were pink from cold and running. Lord Seaworth kindly invited the boy inside to get warmer.
"What else could you see?" asked Seaworth as the boy came closer to the fireplace. The appearance of a woman at the gates of Winterfell seems peculiar. However, just a few days back King in the North announced the recruitment of women to train and fight for the living. Could the woman at the gates be coming to fight against wights?
"Strange lass. Has grey hair like me grandma but ain't one. I did not see her sigil, my lord," said the messenger. "Oh! I think I saw a sword on her saddle."
"Alright, go to the kitchen and ask for a piece of bread. Say ser Davos and lord Snow allowed," Davos decided to speak before Jon could. The boy thanked them, bowed and run away to the kitchen. Onion knight smiled at him. The wooden door closed. Snow stood up without uttering a word. Seaworth followed his example. There were no words needed to communicate their destination or intensions. The dark was slowly approaching, and they had a guest at the gates.
Davos looked at the woman that was coming to them. She was leading a black mare behind her. The boy has good eyes. There were two swords attached to the saddle among other things. One had a regular, straight cross-guard. The other had spiked bands that went towards the blade. It was an odd detail. The mare had long black mane and large hooves. It looked healthy and muscular, yet maybe a palm shorter than usual. Expensive must be. Yet the woman who led the horse didn't look like the wealthy type. She was tall and hidden under the cloak but as she was moving Davos could see more. And the way she moved was of a skilled hunter. However, she was wearing simple travelling attire. Dark brown above-the-knee boots on a heel, dirty in places and covered in snow till ankles. Dark grey leather pants. There was a leather belt on her right hip that held a dagger. She had long leather gloves on her hands that went to her elbow. The gloves were fixed in place by belts on her wrists and below the elbows. There were lines of hard leather going along her long arm. Gloves had small silver pikes on the knuckles. Even those details were secondary to what caught the eyes when Davos looked at the strange woman for the first time. Her ashen hair, big green eyes and long sharp scar on her left cheek. The ashen haired woman stopped a few steps away.
"You asked to see me," Jon started first. Davos looked at the man to understand his intentions. Snow was carefully observing the person in front of him.
"This is Jon Snow, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell as of now," Seaworth decided to help with the talking part. It is suitable for a king to be introduced. Also, Davos noticed that Jon put his hand on Longclaw. The sight of someone of an outsider with a sword at the gates of your home can make anyone fill with concern.
"Ciri," the woman nodded. "Just Ciri is enough. I've heard you are letting women fight against wights."
"Ser Davos Seaworth."
"We need everyone we can get to face the White Walkers," the exchange of courtesies was interrupted by Jon.
"I want to fight," Ciri said with great confidence.
"It is to be admired," intervened Davos. "But, forgive my asking, can you?"
"I have two swords. Do you think I would carry them if I couldn't wield one?" Ciri crossed her arms on her chest. Her cloak fell behind allowing to see more of her. She was wearing brown leather jacket that was tightened by a wide leather belt on her waist. There was something shimmering The jacket had half-sleeves, under which a light-coloured shirt was seen. From shoulder to waist the jacket was lined with hard leather. But most importantly, there was a harness going across her chest clearly to carry something behind her back.
"We are not fighting men," said Snow in dry voice.
"I would not be here if you were," the ashen-haired chuckled.
"I believe you've been on the road for a long time," Seaworth decided to ease the growing tension in the air. "You are cold and hungry. And staying here is not helping either of us.
Jon gave him a stern look. He wasn't very welcoming today as it is and now there was an armed stranger under the roof. Lord Seaworth look at the woman again. He didn't want to undermine the woman based solely on her gender, but no one has heard of an ashen-haired woman to wield a sword masterfully. And she didn't look like a bandit or a cutthroat. By looking at the way she carries herself, how she holds her head and that gaze she is giving to people…
"You can leave your sword," ser Davos added. "You won't need it. For now."
Ciri didn't feel easy about leaving her swords. Yet there was some truth to Davos's words. And there's a good chance they would not let her though. She followed the two men to share a meal. One man was old, much older compared to the other, with grey in his hair and beard. He had kind face and Ciri liked him right away for it. The other one was young and with dark curly hair. Faint scars on his face, young yet sad face. There was incredible sadness in his eyes. Yet there was emptiness too. The eyes of an outcast did not suit the King in the North. And how could he get them? Jon Snow reminded Ciri of someone. With his world-weary look, sad eyes and tired shoulders. She could not order her thoughts as her thought process was interrupted.
"You seem confident about your abilities to wield a sword," noted ser Davos. Apparently, she was silent just as Snow was. And they were carefully observing each other. Cirilla was watching him because Jon reminded her of someone. Jon had to watch her because she was a stranger, potential danger that's why they were sitting further away from her as well.
"I know my worth," the woman with ashen hair replied.
"How did you learn to fight with a sword?" asked Snow.
"I am a hunter," answered Cirilla.
"You hunt with a sword?"
"I don't hunt rabbits with a sword, if that what you are asking. I hunt…"
"Men? "asked Davos, raising a brow.
"Monsters," she said with pride and confidence.
"Monsters?" questioned Jon. Ciri could tell that he was strongly doubting her words. Well, no wonder, truly.
"Your Grace," Ciri addressed the King unsure of the appropriate way to do it, "you need people who can use a sword, I am one."
"It is true, but you can murder half the castle during the night."
"I've been on the road for a long time, I'd rather prefer to spend the night in bed."
And the silence fell. Jon and Ciri were just looking at each other, testing each other. Seaworth could sense hostility and distrust in the air. He could not blame his King for it yet he understood the position the woman was in.
"You may not have heard about me and that's alright. I come from a brotherhood," Ciri stood up before talking. Her stubborn eyes were looking at Jon Snow. She wants to make her point, it's understandable. Davos looked at the King. He was prepared to listen to the woman and so was Jon.
"A brotherhood of monster-slayers, "Ciri continued. Ser Davos saw how Jon's face changed for a second at the mentioning of a brotherhood. He was in one, once, and he died for it.
"A brotherhood is for life," Snow said patiently.
"Yes," the woman nodded, "and as a brotherhood we have a code. And one part of our Code is that we do not kill humans. Without a good reason."
"Good reason?"
"If a man runs at me with a sword in his hand, aiming at my heart, I will not just stand and wait for death's embrace. I want to live just like everybody else."
The witcheress watched the expression on men's faces. She invoked the Witcher's Code to appeal to them. It's an old trick Geralt taught her to win trust of ordinary folk. For some reason, it worked more often than Ciri would expect it to. And it always surprised her why. Was it because the Code made it seem like she belonged to an honorable organization and had more to lose? Was it because it created an idea in people's minds that she had a greater sense of honor? She could only guess.
"Where are your brothers then?" the question came from the King in the North.
"We walk our Paths alone. And it can prove dangerous sometimes," she kept her answers reserved. "I wish I could tell you more about my brothers, but the Code prohibits."
The more I talk about the Code the more they believe. It's like every lie. The more details you add to your lie the more believable it is. To keep the lie going you have to remember the fake details and stick to them at all times. She glances at the men again. Davos seemed more suggestible to her story. Jon Snow, however, remained suspicious. The was a long pause before the King started to talk again:
"I belonged to a brotherhood once myself."
"Then you understand better than anybody," Ciri agreed.
"I do. I'd hoped you can tell us more about your brotherhood."
"We aren't known to people here," Ciri returned to giving reserved and vague answers. First of all, she barely understood what here was. She has heard how people referred to this place as Westeros. Some call this place The North. Some mentioned the Seven Kingdoms. It all about territories yet Ciri has no idea how one differs from the other, where the borders are.
"And our brotherhood has been of the decline," she added. It was all true. Witchers were not know to this world. The number of witcher is only declining due to the line of work and absence of new generations.
"We slay monsters for coin. Protect people from things they can't protect themselves," witcheress had to continue as she saw that it wasn't enough yet.
"We can't pay you," Jon said abruptly.
"Not asking you to," Ciri objected. "I came here by my own free will not for a contract."
"What monsters do you kill?"
"The kind that does not live here. Stories about them would make as much sense to you as a tale meant to scare children."
"You are not from Westeros, then. What brought you here?"
"I decided to go where no one from my brotherhood walked before. I came here only to hear people talking about the Dead that were coming. And then I heard about you recruiting women to fight the army of the Dead."
"Do you know what kills the White Walkers?"
"Wights can be killed with dimeritium, fire and… blood."
Seaworth looked at the woman as she said those words. So oblivious to the meaning. She said the words of House Targaryen like it was nothing. But those words, they carried a meaning here in Westeros. Those words were feared, they brought memories of the old world. The world before the Baratheon's Rebellion, the world under the rule of Mad King. Davos looked at Snow who seemed to be collected about the situation.
"Dimeritium?" asked Jon. He was just as perplexed as Davos was about the word. It had no meaning to them. He doubted it carried a meaning to anyone in Westeros.
"A metal from the fallen stars," the ashen haired woman answered simply.
"How do you know it kills wights?"
"It killed many more before. I am a monster-slayer after all."
The memory sent shivers down her spine. When she first landed in this world, she landed in a snowy desert. It reminded her the Frying Pan but with terrible cold instead of heat. She remembered what it felt like to be there, alone, only white snow around her. It was cold, yes, and it felt dead. It was like standing in the cemetery. Despite being a witcheress, she disliked being in the cemeteries. She often dreams about death and cemeteries are no better reminder. Ciri was travelling with Roach in the desert for a while until dusk. She was ready to travel back to her world when some movement in the distance grabbed her attention. It was getting dark but she could it see what was there. Blazing blue eyes. Such eyes would haunt you in your nightmares. She jumped off the horse, took out her silver sword and waited. Witchers told her that fighting in the light of the moon was better "no sharp shadows. It didn't give her comfort. Roach was a trained horse but still panicked as the wight was coming closer. Ciri teleported behind the wight and punctured dead flash. The wight was impaled but nothing happened. Silver did not bother the dead. Ciri had to teleport back to her mare and change swords. The wight was not eager to fight or resist. Something was not right, but Ciri grabbed her dimeritium sword and stroke. Ice shards hit her cheeks. It was gone. She looked back at her horse. There in the distance Cirilla saw same blazing blue eyes. Lots of them. Yet none of them moved closer. They were watching, they wanted to know something. But Ciri decided not to take risks, she jumped on Roach and rode off, disappearing in the flash of green light.
"What was that about blood?" Snow did not relent.
"Where I come, there is a prophecy about White Frost, a long winter that comes to bond worlds in ice. It says that Elder Blood can stop it," Ciri dropped the part where she had to say "temporary".
"Prophecies," said Davos, "are dangerous things."
"Can't agree more," sighted Ciri. Dangerous and powerful.
"You may stay, Ciri of monster slaying brotherhood," said Jon. Cirilla could tell that his decision was not easy to make. But he weighted it, rethought it over and over again.
"I can't leave my swords at the stables," she thought it was important to make that clear. Jon was silent for a moment.
"I understand, "he said. "So be it. You can take them with you. Tomorrow you will have to prove yourself to be a worthy monster slayer."