Chapter 15: Hit and Run
POV Neutral, 1268 early January
Geralt's company, sans Dandelion, sat in the smallest kitchen in the Beauclair palace. Eating chicken dumpling soup as a speckled hen nervously crossed the floor.
The chicken let out an indignant squawk as the kitchen's door slammed open, clipping its tail feathers. Geralt rushed into the kitchen. "Come on, company, get packed," the witcher said, his wind burnt face covered in day-old bruises. "We're riding out! In an hour, and not a moment longer, I want to see you all on the hillock outside the town, by that post. Packed, in the saddle, ready for a long ride and a difficult one." he quickly elaborated.
"I'll be ready in a flash!" Milva yelled, leaping from her seat. "I'll be ready in half an hour!" she said naught else as she rushed around Geralt and out the door.
"I will too." Cahir said calmly, standing up and walking away from his soup. "But I'd like to know what it is. A whim? A lovers' tiff? Or are we really leaving?" he asked.
"We really are." the witcher said, to which the knight nodded and left. "Angoulême, why are you making faces?" he said, seeing the girl's saddened look.
"Geralt, I -" she started, voice meek.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, I've changed my mind. You need looking after, my girl, I can't let you out of my sight. To horse I said, get packed and fasten your saddlebags. And singly, so not to raise suspicion, outside of town, by the post of the hillock. We'll meet there in an hour." Geralt reassured, quickly pulling Angoulême from her mood.
"Without fail, Geralt!" the girl yelled, "At fucking last!". Angoulême spared no thought and ran out of the room.
The whole company had left the kitchen, no explanation needed. All safe Regis.
The higher vampire merely sat there, spoon in hand, enjoying his chicken dumpling soup. The witcher frowned and asked, "Are you waiting for a special invitation? Why are you still sitting there? Rather than loading up Draakul the mule? And saying goodbye to your succubus?".
"Geralt," the vampire said calmly, as he helped himself to another bowl of soup. "I need as long to say goodbye to the succubus as you do to your raven-haired beauty. Assuming you have any intention of saying goodbye to her. And just between you and I, you can send the youngsters to get packed by shouting, hastening and making a fuss. I deserve something else, if only for reasons of age. A few words of explanation, please." he politely demanded.
"Regis-" Geralt started.
"An explanation, Geralt. The quicker you begin the better." Regis insisted, "Yesterday morning, in accordance with your agreement, you met the steward of Pomerol vineyard at the gate..." he led.
The witcher sighed, sat down and told his tale.
It took some time for Geralt to tell Regis what happened on his contract, but once he did the vampire understood the witcher's haste.
"Very well then, Geralt. We must get to Stygga castle as quickly as we can, there's no telling how much time your Yennifer has left." Regis said, feeling slightly guilty, but not showing it.
"So," Geralt started, "Are you satisfied, Regis?".
"I am now." he said.
"In that case..." Geralt said, standing from his chair. "Go on. Run off and pack. And be quick.".
"It won't take me very long. Omnia mea mecum porto." Regis said, switching tongues midway through his sentence.
"What?" the witcher asked.
"I have very little luggage" he translated.
"So much better. Outside the town in half an hour." Geralt reminded.
"I'll be there." Regis promised.
POV Karra
Karra stood in a sizable and cozy cottage, watching a man and a woman as they parted at the threshold. "Are you certain that it is you that must go, my love?" the woman, an elf with ashen hair, asked.
"You know why, Lara." the man, a human baring dark locks, said. His grey eyes full of sadness. "Other than you, I am the best negotiator in our faction. The plans are mostly mine as well." he continued.
"The politician in me knows, Crennegan. Yet the woman refuses." the elf, Lara, said. Putting a hand to her belly.
"Aye, I understand, Love." he said, his hand joining hers. "But I must, I have the highest chance of success." he finished, opening the door.
"Do not say anything foolish to my father, he hates you enough already, and don't fall for Avallac'h's taunts." she advised.
"I promise that I will be the perfect gentleman to Auberon. We shall see about him though." he said teasingly, while he walked outside.
The Navigator and Lara watched the man mount his black horse and continued to do so as rode away. As he went, he showed them his clenched fist. Gesturing to them his resolve.
Once both man and rider disappeared into the trees, the dead woman spoke, "This was the last time I saw him.".
Karra's head snapped to her, the Navigator's eyes wide. But this is a- "This isn't a dream, girl. Well, not exactly anyway." the ghost of Lara Dorren told her.
"H-how are you-"
"Speaking with you? Reading your mind?" Lara paused, "The answer to both is fairly simple. I'm in your head, a part of you now, yet still separate. A better question would be how I am here. Now that is much more interesting...
Our present circumstances have been caused by a variety of factors. The main one being that you consumed my real self's blood, but that wasn't all. You also used a certain high-level spell twice in succession, a spell that is a bastardized version of my own magic. You came in close contact with one of my descendants and even closer contact with a man who resembles my love. That witcher man. Even the presence of the unicorns had some effect, though I'm not entirely sure what." the ghost explained, sounding as though she was talking about some lab experiment or artwork.
"Have I resurrected you?" Karra asked.
The dead woman chuckled, "Not entirely, I am merely a few dozen memories and a personality manifested via my real self's blood. And no, I won't be taking your mind, girl. I am simply a... what is the word... a roommate of sorts." Lara said, her tone as playful as a young woman on the prowl.
"Then, you will stop affecting me now?" She pleaded, hopeful.
"Oh no, no I will not stop. From your memories, I can see you've been nigh emotionless for the past two decades and near that for the three before them. Mine will be of great help keeping you alive. Other than slight nudges though? I'll just be a voice in your head." she teased.
"That's all?" it was hard for the Navigator to wrap her head around her new circumstances.
"That's all." Lara said, nodding. "Unless," she started, as she walked closer to Karra, "you." Lara put a hand to the Navigator's face, "Want more." the other cupped her cheek, "Than that." she finished, while closing in for a kiss.
Karra woke with a start. Laughs echoing in her mind. Her sword hand throbbed with pain and her face was so tender the breeze hurt, but she was uninjured. Seems my bones were healed. She received an affirming feeling from Lara.
She patted herself down, and found that her ruined breastplate was gone and any weapons she had left had been taken as well. The Navigator sighed... then she remembered the one-horns.
The elf panicked and looked around, only to see that they were all watching a man she now knew to be a witcher. They are speaking to him, let them finish. Then see what happens.
Just as Lara finished, the Navigator felt a presence touch her mind. It felt reluctant, but determined. Only a second later, Karra found she could now hear the one-horns.
"So, let me get this straight, elder. You want me and my sister to accompany this human, and the elf, to kill Fox, Sparrowhawk, and The Alder King. Then help him and his lady friend escape. Did I miss anything?" the jet-black unicorn asked.
"You shouldn't be so rude, Xácome." the third gently scolded, this one sporting a soft grey coat. Xácome's sister, she presumed.
"It's a fair question, Sgothax." the red one, the elder, said to the mare. Then answered the stallion, "No, that is not all that will be coming with you. You may show yourself now, Seamus."
A neigh and an orange-red glow came from the tree line in response. "I didn' ahgree ta help ye, jus' t'a do erran's." a male voice said, in a thick accent Karra's never heard before.
As the beat of hooves came closer, the Navigator, for some reason, expected to see a short man in green riding on a pony, but what emerged from the trees made her eyes widen and her body tremble slightly.
"Worry not, Seamus. There will be plenty of battle for you and your kin." the elder assured.
The trees yielded a headless rider wearing dark plate, covered by a black shawl that glowed with embers. Tied to his waist was a helm that, judging from the twin flames glowing from behind the visor, held the man's head. In the headless man's right hand was a giant double-bladed axe that rested over one shoulder. In the left he held a whip of liquid flame.
The man's horse matched its rider well. Its body was made of living embers, its skin and flesh cracked with every move, spilling glowing gold blood before rapidly healing. The beast's mane and tail were cascading fire and each step sent sparks into the air. The horse huffed at the unicorns, sending small flames from its nostrils.
A Dullahan! A headless horseman, the burning one at that! A dangerous being many of the younger elves called "The charging flame". Karra moved to crawl away, but then it spoke. "Don' worry lass. You hav' nothin' ta do with what happened back then, so I won' be hur'in' ya." the head said, before turning to the witcher. "Here, i's fer you." he said, his body tossing the man the axe like it weighted nothing.
The witcher caught it, and she saw him stumble slightly in the process. Though she wouldn't hold it against him. The weapon was easily longer than he was tall. The two rectangular blades were thick as a finger and each the size of his head. The whole thing was made of some dark metal, the side of the blades depicted a weeping elf and at the tip of the axe was a sharp spike.
"Now you miss nothing, Xàcome." the elder said, its tone teasing. "Are you all ready to hear the plan?" it continued seriously.
They all said yes, even Karra.
Pov Jon, sometime later.
Jon stood just outside the forest, before a menhir. To his left was the dark Xàcome followed by his much lighter sister Sgothax. To his right was the elf, who he still hadn't truly spoken to, then Seamus.
"Jus' gimme five or six ta get ta the lads before ye break it." the rider said, "An' don' worry, we màke an excellent distraction." then he rode away, leaving charred grass and burnt branches in his wake.
They waited a moment, then Xàcome spoke up. "He's had long enough, Blade-eye." he paused, "Are you ready?" the stallion asked, raising an equestrian brow.
Jon nodded and the unicorns took their positions, one on each side of the witcher and slightly behind. "I'll keep any damage from lasting." Sgothax said, gentle as a cloud. "And I'll give you all the power you need to crush those elves!" her brother continued, obviously excited.
Slowly, both their horns started to glow, each in their own colour, and Jon felt... nothing. "Are certain it's working?" he asked them.
"Of course it's working! If it wasn't then you would've exploded!" Xàcome chided, "You just haven't done anything yet! Swing the axe or something!" he shouted.
The witcher ignored his rudeness, along with that troubling piece of information. The unicorn's tone and the risks didn't matter as long as they rescued Ciri. He did take the suggestion though, Jon hefted the long axe and lazily swung at the menhir. Even with little effort, his strike was faster than ever before and felt strong enough that he expected to split the stone in two.
But, just as the blade was about to touch the menhir, it stopped with a bell-like ring and blue glow. Jon's bones shook from the sudden halt. "And there's the barrier." the stallion said. "Welp, get to it." he instructed.
Jon rolled his shoulders, adopted a steady stance and raised the axe. Holding it as lumberman would. Then, with a growl, he swung, twisting at the waist and pivoting his feet. Fully intent on destroying the spell, and anything else, that dared to stand in his way.
The axe hit the barrier with the sound of a giant bell being struck and a blue wave rippled from the point of contact. Jon could feel Xàcome's giddiness at the sight, "Again! Hahahahaha!" the unicorn laughed, somewhat manically.
The witcher pulled the axe back once more, then struck again and again and again. Each strike was louder than the last and the ripples were becoming a deeper and deeper blue. Throughout it all, the black stallion cackled.
He must have hit the barrier over thirty times when, finally, the axe blade dug into the menhir.
Xàcome quickly composed himself, "Hop on, Blade-eye! Quickly!" the horned horse shouted.
The witcher, wasting no time, ripped the blade out from the stone and rushed over to the unicorn. Xàcome lowered himself slightly, making it easier for Jon to leap onto the stallion's saddleless back. The elf woman, whose name he hasn't yet learned, did the same with Sgothax.
The siblings carried them at an easy canter, swiftly passing where the barrier stood only a second ago. "I know it won't last long, but it felt good watching the Aen Elle's "Great Shield" fall! Right, sis?" the stallion asked.
"Yes, we finally have a true victory." the mare said happily, "No matter how small it is." she continued, her tone quickly becoming sad.
Seeing this, Jon spoke up. "We will succeed, Sgothax." he paused, then looked to the right. "Our distraction made it." he said, pointing his chin to the horde of headless riders only a few miles from them. All of them racing to the elven city of Tir nà lia, with the ever-burning Seamus in the lead. Even from this distance he could hear their war cries, see their whips snap at the sky.
The meek mare sent him an affirmatory thought, its feeling much surer than her words from before.
Jon turned back to face the looming city, and found it rather disappointing. It was beautiful to be sure, but from what the Unicorns told him about the Aen Elle and their actions. Well, he expected something more imposing.
Instead, all he saw was elegant marble buildings, winding streets of packed dirt or cobblestone, well-manicured gardens, and statues everywhere.
"Zireael should be in Auberon's palace." the elf informed them suddenly, "The palace is near the edge of Tir nà lia, next to the river." she finished, pointing to one of the larger buildings.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's pick up the pace!" Xàcome exclaimed, his tone making Jon suspect that if a horse could smile... Then the stallion would be sporting a wolfish grin.
The two unicorns doubled their speed, swiftly reaching a hard gallop, and rushed into the city.
The path to the palace wasn't difficult. The roads were wide enough that they hadn't had to slow down and, because of the chaos caused by Seamus and his kin, they ran into no elves along the way.
The palace the elf pointed out had no guards on the outside, so the group simply rode in through the front gate. They entered the courtyard without issue, but as Jon dismounted the loudmouthed unicorn, a voice sounded from the palace's doorless entrance.
"I see you've chosen to betray us." the voice, a man's, said calmly.
"Auberon! You're n-" the shocked she-elf started.
"Not supposed to be here? Please, I have fought many wars against this sphere's natives. I have long ago learned their style of tactics." the man, Auberon, said as he walked out from the shadows with a relaxed gait.
Auberon wore a well-worn set of gilded partial plate armour and silvered mail over blue robes. Like Jon, he wore no helm, but where the witcher left his head unadorned, the elf wore a jewelled crown that kept his grey-white hair from his eyes. His only visible weapon was a saber, buckled to his waist. He must b-
"Blade-eye, that is The Alder King." Xàcome informed him, interrupting the witcher's conclusion. Regardless, Jon readied a defensive stance, holding the axe's shaft with both hands. One near the butt and the other a hand's width under the blades.
But the elf ignored him, and kept talking to she-elf. "They use one large, powerful and intimidating force to create a distraction. While a smaller, yet skilled group to complete their true objective." The Alder King said, while slowly unsheathing his saber. "Yet, despite this valid tactic. They have only won once. Do you know why?" he paused, "They never get the balance right. Like now, the distraction is a dozen Dullahan led by the Codàl Deith itself. While all they send here is a young Aen Elle, two one-horns barely older than foals... and a mere dh'oine." the King of the Alder suddenly twisted towards Jon and sent a crackling arc of blue lightning from his hand.
The witcher, in the blink of an eye, spun the axe around and thrust the spiked tip into the cobblestones. Jon's improvised lightning rod caught the surprise spell and sent it into the stones, though the offshoots had still passed straight through the leather and cloth of his gauntlet's palms. Burning tree-like patterns on the witcher's hands and forearms.
The spell ended and Jon ripped the axe from the ground. He ignored his lightly charred limbs and threw a knife at the elf, then rushed after it. The witcher felt his wounds burn slightly, but the feeling quickly passed.
The Alder King smoothly deflected the flying blade and prepared a one-handed thrust. So, Jon ended his sprint with a stomp and sent the elf a barbaric swing of his axe, one meant to bisect his foe shoulder to hip.
The royal merely leaning back, so that the axe-blade only managed to carve a deep groove into his breastplate.
The second Jon's axe passed him by, Auberon rushed the witcher. He quickly invaded Jon's space, his saber moving to cut open the young man's thigh. But before the blade could go through the gap in his gambeson, Jon redirected his axe's momentum and smashed the butt into The Alder Kings cuirass.
The blow heavily dented the steel and sent Auberon reeling. As the king stumbled away from the witcher, he swung the axe again. This time to lob off his head.
The elf king ducked under the blow and rolled away. Standing back up out of the witcher's range.
Auberon assumed a strange stance, his feet were spread wide and stable while his sword hand was pulled back, his saber held parallel to his head. His free hand was far in front of him, open with the palm facing Jon.
The witcher adopted the same stance he held at the beginning, and stood ready.
They watched one another in silence, Jon kept his eyes focused on the elf's hips with the rest held in peripheral, just as the witcher knew his opponent did the same.
A moment passed, then Jon saw Auberon's eyes widen with realization. He then instantly shifted his focus away from Jon and he blasted another stroke of lightning. This time at Sgothax.
The witcher quickly closed the distance to the distracted King of Alders and struck. The axe-head whistled through the air, the nigh full rotation blow allowing him to build tremendous momentum. The elf king, mid spell, could hardly move. So, as the axe's blade came up, all he could do was lean away from the strike.
But his efforts weren't nearly enough and Jon swung true. He severed the king's offending arm at the elbow, ending the spell and sending the limb spinning away.
Auberon dropped his saber and fell to one knee, his face twisted in pain as he clutched his bleeding stump. The Alder King's suffering didn't last long, as the witcher cut it short along with the elf's height.
As the king's headless corpse fell over, Jon looked to the cloud-coated unicorn. Fully expecting to see the gentle mare injured.
Instead, it was the she-elf who knelt on the cobbles. Her limbs occasionally twitching from the spell's after effects. Smoke still rose from her clothes, hair and between the fingers pressed against her left flank.
He stared at her a moment, then made his decision. Jon took up the elf king's saber and approached the she-elf.
Once he was within striking distance, he stopped. "Your name." he demanded, placing the tip of the blade under her chin.
She looked up at him, her face unreadable, "Karra Siubhail." she said, her voice perfectly even. Without emotion.
Jon nodded and switched the saber to reverse grip. Karra looked at it for a moment, then released her side, revealing the charred flesh underneath. Her hand was shaky, but Jon felt that her grip on the hilt proved strong. So, he let go.
Karra stood and nodded. "Follow me, witcher. Zireael should be on the second level. There shouldn't be much other than slaves in the palace." she said, with a little... something more in her tone as she walked away.
The witcher followed close behind, axe held center-shaft in his right with his dirk in his left. The unicorns followed him at a slight distance.
They entered the palace without issue. What Jon saw of the ground floor was like everything else in the city, elegant, but with few signs of life. It reminded the witcher of his grandmother's throne room, only without the feeling of intimidation one gets from simply walking in.
Karra led the group to the staircase. The siblings had some trouble with the steps, but climbed them anyway.
The second landing was quickly reached and once they had, Jon and Karra opened every door. Slamming open one after another, until Jon came upon a corpse. He quickly investigated, and found that the death was recent. The deathblow struck the neck and judging by the cleanness of the cut, the elf was killed by a swift blow from a thin, sharp dagger. The blond male elf's face still held the expression he had when he died, shock and disbelief. He also had an angry red scar on his right hand, which Jon determined to be a recent healing, since there no signs of cauterization nor any suture marks.
Done with the body, the witcher shifted his focus to the small room. The most prominent feature was the feathers. They were everywhere, and blood was splattered atop a surprising amount of them. Which told Jon some about the sequence of events.
The next thing to attract his eye was the source of the white, and red, feathers. The empty bedframe.
Seeing it, and the makeshift rope tied to one of the corners, made Jon smile fondly.
That, along with her smell, let Jon know this was where Ciri was held. "She was here." he announced, just loud enough for his allies to hear him.
Karra quickly joined him in the room, while the unicorns poked their heads through the door. As the witcher went to the window, the she-elf crouched before the still-warm corpse and tilted the head to the side. "This was Avallac'h." she informed him, her voice as monotone as he had come to expect from her.
"Fox is already dead? Well, as disappointing as it is that I didn't get to watch, it makes things easier. Only one to go then!" Xàcome said, going from dissatisfied to chipper as he spoke.
Jon looked out the window, and froze. She was there. Riding out of the city. Along the river. "Ciri's escaping the city." he informed them, as he leapt from the window and slid down the rope. Karra followed, Xàcome groused and Sgothax sent a congratulatory thought.
POV Ciri
The horse raced alongside the river, already huffing and puffing from the pace Ciri drove it to. The witcheress had left what she thought was the city's border only a few minutes ago. No one was pursuing her yet, but still she worried. The big river covered her right flank, but to her left was only grassy flat land.
She didn't know where exactly she should be going, but away from those elves felt like a good start. Ciri would be able to form a plan once she was away. She would find some way to get back to her world, to save Jon, if only she could get away without capture.
Ciri quickly neared her goal, the forest. She would be able to lose any would-be pursuers there, though she would have to leave the horse at the edge. Unless it ran to its death before she got there.
The witcheress looked back to the elven city, and she saw two things. The first was that the stone city was on fire, it seemed to be on the other side of the settlement, but she could still see the blazing orange glow. The second was that she was being pursued. By one man.
This sight worried, relieved and insulted her. All at the same time.
She chose to ignore him, the witcheress would simply lose him once she reached the woods. So, she turned back and snapped the reins, driving the horse even harder.
The distance to the woods closed swiftly and Ciri slowed, but when she was a mere dozen feet from the forest edge. Her horse suddenly stopped, nearly throwing her from the saddle. Fuck!
No matter how much Ciri cursed and urged the sweat soaked beast, it wouldn't move forward. Shit! Barrier magic!
The witcheress threw down the reins and pressed the heels of her palms into her thighs. Think! Think! Think! All barriers have a weakness. Be it a time limit or an open door. Especially one as powerful as this one feels, just look for the signs.
She quickly looked around, as Yennifer taught her, searching for totems or- Menhirs!
Every dozen or so feet stood a menhir. So, unless she somehow found an enormous source of magical energy and an item or person to act as a conduit, Ciri would have to find the most likely heavily defended gap. Oh joy.
She turned the recuperating horse to the left and was about the drive it to a trot, when she heard a hissed question from her left. "So, you wish to deprive us of your company?" the man asked, his tone both condescending and venomous.
"Aye, I have important matters to attend to." she answered, her voice as cold as Jon's ice. Refusing to even look at the man.
"None of those dh'oine matters are of any importance, you will be staying here. Like a good little brood-" the elf's voice died mid-sentence.
Ciri looked to him and saw that his face was tense and serious. He was looking past her, so she followed his gaze and looked over her shoulder. Only to see a pure white unicorn standing on the other side of the barrier, by the riverbed. She turned back to the elf, a taunt on her tongue, but the ring of steel being unsheathed killed her insult in its cradle.
"We will be going back now, Zireael." he said, one hand beckoning her while the other held his saber ready.
As her mind rushed in forming an escape plan... she saw him and her thoughts ground to a halt. He was here, he was alive, her Jon.
And he wasn't alone, under him was a great black unicorn, to his right rode an elf woman on a light grey unicorn. As they rode closer, though still out of earshot, she saw that both looked worse for wear and that Jon now had an axe.
An axe that Jon switched to reverse grip. Then, in an act of strength she'd never seen from him before, he threw it like one would a spear.
The witcheress did her very best not to stare at the projectile as the giant axe flew through the air. But her efforts were in vain, for just as she thought that the axe would smash her pursuer's head like an overripe melon, the elf thew himself from the saddle. Leaving the horse to die in his stead.
As the dark-haired elf got to his feet, Ciri rode around the twitching corpse of the elf's horse. She quickly joined Jon, who had stopped a dozen or so feet from the body. Once she was beside him, Jon gave her a big smile, for him that is, and the elf woman gave her a nod.
Her Jon looked to the unicorn under him a moment, the turned to her. "I'll be back." he said, sliding off of the black beast.
Turning away from the young witcher, Ciri looked to the elf woman with a raised brow. "Eredin is one of our targets." she explained, while gesturing to the now named Eredin. Then placed a hand on her chest, "I am Karra Siubhail." she said. A wet squelching noise let the witcheress know that Jon had retrieved his new weapon.
"Cirilla Riannon." she said, returning the favour of a full name.
The witcheress, though confident in his victory, chose to watch her Jon fight Eredin.
From what she could tell, they hadn't started yet. Two men were still sizing each other up, looking for flaws in the other's stance and armour, while also waiting for the other to get impatient and attack first.
Thankfully, her Jon has always been the epitome of patience. Well, unless he felt there was a threat to her, or an insult, or a slight, or-
The elf suddenly rushed forward, his saber slashing at Jon's neck. The witcher deflected the blow with the shaft of his axe, and quickly retaliated. His large and swift swings forcing the elf, who couldn't even retaliate, back step-by-step. Her Jon was attacking with strikes far faster than she had ever seen before, with far more fury too, and Ciri felt a familiar heat come over her.
The witcher kept pushing the elven rider until they reached the riverbed, where Eredin found his second wind. The elf counterattacked with a thrust to Jon's face, but he threw his head to the side and all Eredin managed to do was cut the witcher's cheek. A cut that steamed for a second or two before disappearing completely.
Eredin moved for a second attack, but the butt of the axe struck him in the knee with a satisfying crack and elf splashed down to one knee. When he tried to get up, the water froze around him, trapping his legs and right arm.
He started to say something about them never escaping, but Jon ignored the elf and sent a barbaric swing of his axe. The blow split Eredin in twain, from the tip of his head to his groin. Blood and gore splattered all over the witcher's face and chest.
The heat increased and Ciri felt a tingling. The sight was second only to watching her Jon finish off the wyvern. Shirtless and showered in steaming blood
The witcheress was about to leap from her stolen horse to reward, and tease, her Jon, when she felt a rumble.
Ciri quickly looked back to the city, and saw that a few of the buildings had crumpled. The orange blaze had grown brighter as well.
Suddenly, she felt a hurried, yet not invading, presence on her mind. "We really should be going now! Seamus is going nuclear!" a male voice shouted.
Nuclear? What does that mean?
"That isn't important right now!" the same voice said, "Blade-eye, get on and freeze the river!" it continued.
FREEZE THE RIVER! How!
"Again! Not important right now!" he shouted, "Let's GO!"
And so they did.
POV Serena Umber, 297 fourth moon.
Serena was still struggling to get used to Winterfell. It was very different from her childhood home, the biggest difference being the sheer size of the castle. The Stark fortress was almost a city unto itself, and every one of the stone structures were warmed without first using fire.
That's what amazed her the most, Brandon the Builder had built his castle atop natural underground hot springs and piped the near scalding water throughout Winterfell. Every addition to the castle had the same piping.
But for all its wonder, it didn't stop her from feeling like a stranger in Winterfell's halls. Robb and his siblings tried to include her though, each in their own way. Young Bran showed her his favorite places to climb, though only after she promised not to tell of course. She didn't much care for the activity herself, but he clearly enjoyed it. So, she encouraged him to do the best he could to be careful.
Baby Rickon couldn't do much other than burble and wiggle around, but he helped her. Doing so by simply attacking Serena with his cuteness until she could no longer resist cuddling him.
Her betrothed's eldest sister, Sansa, hounded her with questions about her incoming marriage, even possible names. Until Serena made it clear that she wasn't thinking about it yet. Sansa was disappointed, but still tried to spend time with her. Helping Serena with her embroidery and sneakily, or what she thought to be, giving suggestions for names.
The youngest sister, Arya "Underfoot", and her little Mormont friend tried to pull her into their pranks. Which she sadly had to decline, Serena was to be the future Lady Stark of Winterfell after all. She could not embarrass her family, nor the Starks, by acting like a child. That being said, she was still no southern flower, no matter how much her goodmother-to-be tried to convert her to the false gods. So, just as she let them down gently, she gave the girls a target. A boy, no matter his physical age, that she disliked immensely. Theon Greyjoy.
Which led to her current location, the center of the covered bridge that connected the Great Keep to the armory. From its window, she had an excellent view of the yard. Where she could easily see the squid sparring with Robb. How the two very different boys were friends she'd never know, Serena suspected a lack of options. Given that Robb's half-brother had disappeared, an event that still affected her betrothed.
She found herself again wishing that she could have met him. From what Robb said, Jon could have been his Brandon Snow.
The young Umber shook off the train of thought, and looked for the girls. She quickly found them, Arya and Lyanna were crouched behind one of the wagons near the boys. Serena also saw that they both held buckets.
The spar ended with Robb's wooden sword striking the squid in the head, ringing his helm like a bell. She saw the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrick Cassel, approach the boys. Surely to commend them and give a few final pointers, before dismissing them.
Then there it was, the moment of truth. Theon pulled off the steel training helm and the cloth padding. He held both in the crook of his arm as he neared the wagon, swaying slightly.
He passed it by, blind to his fate... and they struck. The girls emptied the buckets over the squid, dousing him ice cold water. The pair made a quick escape, dropping the heavy buckets as they ran and laughing at the Greyjoy's yells.
Serena smiled, and left the window.