The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt fanfiction

A Different Path Taken

Chapter 3 - Time of Despair

The door to the room they had left Avallac'h in had not been locked, but neither the sorceress not the White Wolf had bothered knocking. Now was not the time for politeness. Ciri seemed to trust the elf for some reason, and Geralt did not doubt her words, did not doubt that the sage had indeed looked after her. But the witcher did doubt his intentions and reasons. Honesty and good will was not a trait common in elves from what he had experienced, and to him Avallac'h was no different.

Almost as soon as Yennefer pushed the door open, she stopped in her tracks—as did the White Wolf. They were staring at a seemingly empty room, their gazes frantically searching for the one they knew had been here.

"He can't have left without us knowing about it." Yennefer stated…it just wasn't possible, and yet…he was nowhere in sight.

"That's because I haven't." A rather deep voice came from the general direction of the balcony, and a few moments later, the figure of the Elven Sage appeared as he regarded the witcher and the sorceress with an unreadable gaze in his eyes and an impassive look on his face.

Yennefer noticed her lover tense up next to her, his eyes fixed on the elf, warning him not to try anything, clearly distrusting, clearly alert…

"What's your business with Ciri?" To the point as always, Yennefer thought to herself when she heard her lover voice his exact thoughts. Yet she couldn't deny she had a similar question on her mind…

"Only to keep Zireael out of Eredin's power addled hands," Avallac'h replied calmly. "Which I have managed to prevent. Until you found her and brought her to this place, anyway." The elf said, clearly irritated and yet…there wasn't one hint of concern in his eyes, voice or expression. Yennefer could already tell he had no concern for Ciri's wellbeing whatsoever…

"Save the lecture." Geralt told him coldly, yet his yellow eyes never left the elf's green ones. "Why are you helping her?" He inquired, taking a step forward.

"Because Cirilla is the only one who can stop Tedd Deireadh, the Time of the End, from consuming all worlds." Avallac'h explained solemnly. He saw disbelief flicker in the witcher's eyes and saw expectance in the sorceresses'. He expected a question related to the prophecy, even expected the witcher to deny the truth of the prophecy…but it was another question he asked.

"You betrayed your own. Why?" Geralt's brows furrowed as he gestured with his hand, curious to hear the elf's reasons, yet unwilling to believe they were entirely true…

"Eredin has strayed from our purpose, he has committed unforgiveable crimes he must answer for." He was stern in his words, so much that it made Yennefer wonder just what the King of the Wild Hunt had done so that someone like Avallac'h would speak of him in such a way. "I would not stand by and let him use Zireael, destroying the last of her bloodline in the process." He explained it as if it was his responsibility to prevent it, though emotion remained absent from his voice.

"How did you know Eredin has Ciri?" Yennefer suddenly asked, cutting of Geralt's chance at saying anything else—as she knew he would.

"I can no longer sense Zireael's presence." The Sage replied simply, shifting his attention—or at least part of it—on the sorceress. "I assume Eredin was involved, I know of no others besides the Aen Elle with enough knowledge to conceal—or rather neutralize—Elder Blood to the point it becomes so difficult to detect." He regarded them both as he spoke, remembering Ciri's words about them, remembering how much they seemed to mean to her…

"Difficult, but not impossible." Geralt stated, but the elven sage could tell it was both a question and a demand.

"Indeed." Avallac'h nodded his confirmation. "He is likely to have taken her back to Tir ná Lia, but where…now that is a question." He spoke his thoughts aloud as he strode across the room, turning to gaze towards the balcony, at the distant horizon…

"A better question would be how we get her out of there." Yennefer replied sharply. She was far from the type to rush forward, yet, she knew finding a way into Tir ná Lia would be an easier mission than leaving the city, especially with Ciri. "You know the lands, are there any passages that can take us in and out?" She inquired.

"There may very well be, but it is not simple to travel through them, especially with the time of the second Conjunction soon to be upon us." When Avallac'h' turned to face them once more, the first thing he noticed was the White Wolf's irritation.

It was true, his explanations were vague, even more so to someone like Geralt, but not to a sorceress. And though Yennefer did not like what she heard, she understood it. She opened her mouth, preparing to speak when Avallac'h began, "I must restore my power. If we are to stand a chance at getting Zireael back, we must be swift and cunning." He explained, regarding the two with an emotionless yet confident gaze in his eyes. "Eredin's arrogance and underestimation of his enemies is his weakness, we must take advantage of this." He stated again. "Most likely, he doesn't expect you to find a way to his realm, and in the event that you do, he will expect an attack, or at least a diversion. We must do the opposite of this." He told them, his voice calm and confident, yet he spoke with such ease that Geralt wondered what exactly they were waiting for.

And he had no hesitation in voicing his thoughts. "What are we still doing here then?"

"I can only open the portals between worlds at precise moments, unlike the Wild Hunt mages and Cirilla. These moments have yet to be upon us." He explained.

"Do you know when those opportune moments will be?" Yennefer inquired.

"No, not yet. This is what I was attempting to find when the two of you burst in without as much as knocking." Avallac'h said, his tone having a slight edge to it as his gaze, now a shadow of a glare, traveled from the sorceress to the witcher and back.

"Excuse us, but Ciri's wellbeing is much higher on our list of priorities than manners." Yennefer replied, sarcasm dripping in her melodious, smooth voice as she narrowed her violet eyes at the sage.

"Fair enough." Avallac'h nodded and walked away, his confidence never faltering—he didn't even seem to acknowledge them as hosts, more like…something else that Yennefer could not quite put her finger on, but he did not act like an ally, that much she could tell. He continued, though he did not turn to look at them. "And on the topic of Cirilla's safety," This time he turned, locking his hands behind him as he stood a short distance away from the two people who seemed to mean the most to Cirilla—at least considering the way she had spoken of them. "How did the Wild Hunt manage to capture her?"

"Eredin blackmailed her." Geralt replied before Yennefer had the chance to, and it was the first time the elven sage heard such contempt in his voice—and one of the few times the sorceress had. "She went with them to save us." He continued, this time with a noticeable hint of disappointment and sadness in his tone. "We were frozen by their magic, we couldn't do anything. Ciri surrendered to the Wild Hunt to save our lives." He did not go into detail, partly because Avallac'h did not need to know all the details, and partly because he did not want to remember. It had been his idea to gather at Kaer Morhen to face the Hunt. It had been his idea, and Ciri had paid the price to save their lives. She had chosen them instead of her freedom—the freedom she had spent her entire life fighting for. He felt Yennefer's hand enclose on his wrist, and his gaze locked with the sorceresses' for a moment, finding worry, hope, and pure strength in the gaze of her violet gaze. He gave a barely noticeable smile.

Avallac'h nodded. "I see." There was nothing in his voice. Not the slightest emotion or tint of empathy. His voice was as colorless as if he was talking about the weather. Yennefer glared as she turned her attention to the elf. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be left alone. I must make preparations for when the time to leave for Tir ná Lia comes." He walked back towards the open balcony, paying no heed to them, as if they had suddenly disappeared into thin air.

And then both Geralt and Yennefer knew; they would not trust him. Sure, he had kept Ciri safe, and he had helped her flee the Hunt. But he had most likely not done it out of the goodness of his heart.

"No way you're going there alone. We're coming and it's not up for debate." Yennefer said decisively as she took a few steps forward.

"I never said I would leave alone." Avallac'h replied calmly. "I shall let you know when everything's ready." He stated, and the way he spoke told Geralt and Yennefer that he would speak no more. He was done when he wanted to, it seemed, as if he was their leader, as if he was the one to make the decisions and others obeyed. Geralt frowned and took a step forward, but Yennefer grasped his arm once more and held him back. She shook her head slightly before she glanced in the direction of the doorway.

Geralt hesitated as he looked back at Avallac'h, who was still standing there in the open balcony, his hands locked behind his back, his posture seemingly relaxed. It was as if they weren't even there anymore, as if they hadn't talked to him, as if Ciri was safe.

The witcher frowned, but gave in to Yennefer with a soft sigh as she pulled him towards the door leading out of the room.

As much as Geralt wanted to turn around and ask Avallac'h more of his…adventures with Ciri during the time they had spent running from the Hunt, as well as about his reasons for helping her, he knew Yennefer was right. He'd get nothing more out of the sage, and they needed him to get to Ciri. Needed him to save her.

He closed the door behind them as Yennefer descended the stairs ahead of him, yet it didn't take long for him to be right behind her once more.

"What do you think?" She asked in a colorless voice, concealing her emotions, her opinions…keeping them from being heard in her tone. There was no suggestion as to what she was thinking, yet, Geralt already knew their opinion was similar at the very least.

"Something shady about him and the whole thing. I don't trust him." Geralt answered softly as they continued walking.

"Neither do I." Yennefer admitted. "But he's our best chance at finding and saving Ciri."

"Think he's really on her side?" Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"No, but he's not on Eredin's either." Yennefer shrugged as she considered her words. She suspected Avallac'h had his own reasons—though she wondered how come Ciri had seemed to trust him so much—but for the time being, he seemed less dangerous than the Hunt. "That's an advantage, the only one we have at the moment." She continued.

"Was he telling the truth about the portals?" The witcher had been suspicious about it since he had first heard it, but his knowledge of portals was limited compared to that of mages. And quite frankly, he did not want to learn more about them, especially if it included using them.

Yennefer groaned softly and turned to face him in an elegant yet abrupt move, causing Geralt to stop in his tracks—in spite of the fact that he had been tempted to "accidentally" bump into her. "I'm not an expert on inter-dimensional travels, Geralt, but I suppose it is. The Wild Hunt navigators are specially trained for this, they are not limited by the constraints of space and time but rather by how many others they can bring with them. If Eredin was to harness Ciri's power, his entire armies would be able to pass through whenever."

The White Wolf nodded. "We need to get her back." Geralt muttered.

"And we will." Yennefer said, with such determination that for a few moments, Geralt no longer worried about the details. No longer worried about the how. He knew they would, and that's what mattered.

He nodded to the sorceress. "I'll go tell the others about the plan."

"All in due time. They can find out later too." Yennefer said with a small smirk.

Geralt sighed. "I need to talk to Vesemir and the others, Yen. Ciri...well, we don't know much for now, but we need to be ready at any moment." He said softly, and the sorceress could see his brows furrow in concern and thought.

"I suppose you're right." Yennefer sighed. "Go talk to them, then come back to me." She said softly, this time with the kind of affection Geralt had rarely heard in her voice, rarely seen in those violet eyes of hers…and he was determined to return to her. For the time being, they could do nothing more than wait…wait, and hope that Ciri would hold on until Avallac'h would find a way to get them to Tir ná Lia.

And as the witcher turned away from Yennefer, heading towards the hall where he knew all his friends were waiting, he hoped with everything he was that the time to leave for Ciri would come soon…

Far beyond their reach, in the land of Elves, the rays of the eastern sun shone over Tir ná Lia, yet, it was a cold light to the Aen Elle, without the warmth they had all grown accustomed to during their lives, without the comfort that all living beings—elves, plants and animals—needed in order to survive and prosper.

It was quite early in the morning, and on this day there were no clouds to cover the sun that hung in the east—perhaps it was meant as a reminder of the way their world had been, perhaps it was the hope of a world on the brink of extinction. But the Aen Elle found no better option other than to go about their business, hoping their new king—ruthless as he was—would fulfill what he had vowed and save them from this threat.

Yet, not all saw the sun. And in spite of the important role she had to play in the preservation of the Aen Elle, the Child of the Elder blood had seen nothing but the same dark, stone walls of the cold dungeon she had been placed in. She had not seen much of the kingdom, not this time. Ever since she had arrived, things had stayed more or less the same, so much that she had begun wondering whether Eredin had brought her there to tire her out through boredom. Eventually, she had fallen asleep, her days of running, her exhaustion from battle taking its hold on her and pulling her into a deep sleep…for a while anyway.

Ciri's eyes slowly opened at the many noises she heard around her. Metal boots clanking against the floor, jail doors screeching, distant voices speaking, seemingly in the dungeon, but too far and distorted for her to make out whatever it was they were saying. She rubbed her eyes, her weariness reminding her of the time spent on the run, the incidents at Kaer Morhen…and the day before, the day on which she had found herself trapped in her enemy's dungeon. She had not drank, she had not eaten, in spite of having been offered a plate of whatever dry, possibly expired food the guards had pushed through the bars. She had not exactly rested either, mostly due to her own stubbornness than anything else, since no one had shown much interest in her since Eredin lad left. And each time her tired eyelids closed and she felt herself drifting off, she forced herself to take another look throughout her cell, unwilling to fall asleep yet unable to keep herself awake.

She tilted her head back, resting it against the cold wall she had her back to as she draped her arm over her knee, the loose chains holding her cuffs together dangling from the movement. Everything was cold, everything was hard, rough, and there was nothing to see, no way to escape. The guardsmen never left, they only changed shifts, and in the end Ciri had counted about nine or ten guards, four stationed in front of the door of her cell while the rest patrolled the dungeon at a steady, marching pace.

And though she had never seen the dungeon of Tir ná Lia last time, Ciri had the feeling a lot had changed since her last stay at the elven city. Somehow everything seemed colder, everyone seemed tensioned. She had tried talking to the guards, tried distracting them, tried tricking them into giving her a blanket, giving her fresh water, but it was as if they had not heard her—or rather, as if they heard but ignored. They glanced at her, then resumed their still stances, occasionally speaking with each other about their shifts and things that had not been of interest to Ciri. For a few moments she had actually wondered if Eredin or his generals had specifically instructed them on the subjects they could discuss. It wouldn't have surprised her even if he had—there was nothing more Eredin could do that would surprise her.

She sighed, watching the two guards who had remained in front of her cell, their gazes fixated on her, following her every move.

"As if I could do anything more than rot in this cell." Ciri thought to herself as she rolled her eyes, but her thoughts were interrupted when she once again heard people talking. Her brows furrowed as she strained her ears attempting to make out what those distant voices were saying.

"You will resume your duties…" She heard a rough, commanding voice say. But it was not Eredin, that much she could tell for sure. "…at the door of the room…" Ciri couldn't make up part of his sentence, and the next thing she heard made little to no sense, "…locked inside." Whoever the man—or elf—speaking was, Ciri didn't recognize him, but he was obviously in a high position and ordering the guards around. She couldn't help wondering, was he referring to her cell as "room"? She scoffed at the thought—and the likeliness of it as she stood up, walking closer to the bars as she leaned against the wall. She ignored the glares the guards were shooting her way, and instead, she focused on the voices coming from what she assumed was a different part of the dungeon.

"The girl comes with us," Another voice said, only this one was unnaturally deep—and distorted by whatever magic the Wild Hunt used. Ciri's eyes widened when she realized they were talking about her. And her thoughts instantly reminded her of Eredin's words, of the way he had spoken of discipline, of the things he had told her, of the way he'd threatened her… maybe that was what the people talking were there for. But she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear them. She wasn't going to let them "tame" her, as Eredin put it. "Discipline" her, as he said it was needed.

The hard clanking of boots on the stone floor told her they were coming, and she braced herself, tensing up, preparing to do her worst to whoever it was, preparing to take any chance she could get to escape…

The first to come into view was a bald elf with three wide stripes of red paint crossing from his forehead to his chin, and he—much like his leader—had a disdainful gaze in his amber eyes and a scowl on his face. Then Ciri noticed his armor, the rising, long, thin blades coming from the top of his shoulders, the color and the model that only a General of the Wild Hunt would wear, and she had no doubt about who he was. Imlerith.

She glared at him, but then she noticed Caranthir—he had his full armor and helmet on, his staff glistening with what looked like enchanted shards of ice, holding great, yet deadly power.

"Zireael…" Caranthir started, regarding the girl. "I am tempted to give you the benefit of doubt…perhaps you will come of your own will."

"Eredin sent you to do his dirty work?" Ciri scoffed at him as she glared at both Wild Hunt Generals. "Typical." She rolled her eyes, though she never looked away from them—not that anticipating their moves could help her in any way, not when her power was neutralized by the dimeritium shackles which were also infused with some kind of powerful magic, not when she had to fight two of the strongest Wild Hunt members and their hosts of warriors. But that did not mean giving in to them.

"Had you been my charge, girl, you would not even consider speaking such words." Imlerith said darkly, his tone laced with hatred and annoyance.

"You will learn respect, Zireael, you will…" Caranthir said in a confident tone that sounded rather reassuring-most likely for Imlerith's sake.

And for good reason too, as the powerful warrior cast a disdainful glance at the girl who dared defy them and subtly motioned towards her-a nonverbal agreement between the two Generals, Ciri assumed. And her assumption proved to be correct when Caranthir stepped forward and pointed his staff at her. But Ciri was determined not to go down so easily; she braced herself, steeled herself… Then she saw his spell, the way the air seemed to warp before she felt coldness in her bones and once again felt as if all life was being drained from her...felt faint…

She dropped to her knees with a gasp, yet she refused to fall asleep. She refused to close her eyes.

A stray question crossed her mind—why did they need her if Caranthir had such power—but then she remembered. She was in a cell that had most likely been designed to neutralize her power, and on top of that, she was bound in magic shackles. Caranthir could use his spells…

To her surprise, she heard a click, like that of a door unlocking, followed by an annoying, overly loud screeching noise...or perhaps it was loud to her ears only…the ground and her surroundings moved around her, seemingly slowly spinning…

She forced herself to look up, only to see the gate to her cell open and Imlerith step in, his posture downright arrogant, his expression full of malevolence as he bent down and grasped her arms. Ciri fought back a yelp of pain at the strength and brutality with which his fingers dug into her flesh as he yanked her up, and her cuffs only made it more painful. She had thought Eredin was brutal, but Imlerith was much worse. How she wished she'd had her sword, how she wished she'd plunge it through the cruel General's chest.

"Let go of me!" She said through gritted teeth as she tried to pry his hand away from her, but to no avail. He glared at her, an obvious warning in the gaze of his amber eyes as he yanked her harder and began dragging her after him, out of the cell, and into the hallway. She saw the guards watching her, yet, in spite of her obvious discomfort, in spite of her struggles, they all remained impassive—the ones that remained stationed at regular intervals throughout the dungeon and the ones who followed after her and Imlerith.

And to make matters worse, Ciri found she could not keep up with them. Her legs did not obey her wishes, her body felt partially paralyzed, slow...too slow to keep up with Imlerith, who had the stride of a giant. She forced herself to lift her legs as the ascended a set of stairs, the stairs she had the feeling would lead out of that dungeon. Gathering what strength she had left, Ciri prepared herself to try to pull herself out of Imlerith's grasp, but to her dismay, Caranthir's spell seemed to intensify, ridding her of most of her strength, rendering her limp, yet mostly conscious.

"Damn it!" She thought to herself as she watched her surroundings change. It was the most she could do at the moment, and she could only hope it would help her, for she had no intention to remain in this cursed place. "The place that is now ruled by a tyrant." She thought to herself as she recalled the last time she had been to Tir ná Lia. It had been so different, perhaps because of Auberon—the king of the Aen Elle at the time—and he had been somewhat hospitable to her, at least compared to Eredin. Back then they had all treated her like an object, a piece of meat, yet, somehow now it felt much worse, especially when she did not know what Eredin was planning. All she knew was that he was capable of anything evil, and that was enough to worry her.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when her feet and calves his something and her chains started rattling. Stairs, she saw. They led into an ornate hallway, with black and red carpets, stone walls and various paintings, statues, or ornaments. Ones that Ciri did not care much for, especially in her current state.

Imlerith dragged her through several corridors, most of them surprisingly empty with only a few servants here and there, though there was little detail Ciri could observe as her tiredness increased. Her vision blurred, then cleared slightly, her vision faded, then returned. At some point she could tell they were ascending stairs again, stairs that seemed never ending.

And suddenly, they came to a halt. She heard the faint noise of a door opening before she was once again dragged...into a large, seemingly luxurious room-though Ciri couldn't see very clearly. For a few seconds, she considered it might've been Eredin's bedchamber. Perhaps they had taken her to do what she had been meant to do with Auberon-and what Eredin had hinted he wanted.

She grunted as she once again felt a suppressing, stifling sensation on her, similar to the one she had felt in the dungeon. But she had no strength left.

The Wild Hunt General came to a stop before what appeared to be a double bed, hoisting her up by her arms and tossing her on the bed disdainfully yet carefully-or at least, carefully enough so she wouldn't end up rolling out of bed on the other side.

Caranthir glanced at him as he stood at his side, but then he turned his attention to the Child of the Elder Blood. She was weakened, and the shackles, as well as his spells, would neutralize her power to teleport away. She would never escape them.

"Where did you take me?" Ciri asked weakly as she watched the two through half-closed eyes.

"In your new chamber, you should be grateful." Caranthir replied impassively in his deepened voice. "Prisoners do not usually get such luxury."

"W-why am I here?" Ciri had several other things to say to him-and even more things to say to Imlerith and Eredin-yet she felt too faint to utter most of them. She could feel herself slowly drifting off...

"You are here at the King's order." The powerful navigator replied.

Ciri forced her eyes open as she suddenly felt a surge of fear course through her. Why would he… Was he intending on...attempting anything? Doing what he had hinted at, and what she had been meant to do the first time she had been to Tir ná Lia?

"No…" She gasped wearily, attempting to get up, but it was as if her body refused to obey her wish. Her eyelids slowly covered her gaze…

She heard what sounded like a distorted muttering of several voices around her, speaking words she couldn't make out as she fell into a dreamless, deep sleep, unable to fight the spell anymore.

Caranthir regarded her for a few moments before he gracefully turned and walked away, towards the exit of the room as the guards stepped out of his way.

"You are not to let her out and you are not to leave your posts." Imlerith told the guards harshly as he gestured towards the human sleeping behind him.

"Understood." The guards all bowed their heads as he exited, locking the door behind him without a moment of hesitation. Several guards remained stationed there, while Imlerith headed away, towards the training grounds. He would look forward to the next raid or battle, whichever came first.

It was only several hours later when Ciri finally awoke, her lids heavy as she slowly opened her eyes. Her honed instincts took hold as she slowly and subtly assessed her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that she was no longer in a dungeon, she was…her fingers pressed against fabric, her back laid against something soft…on a mattress. She turned her head, her eyes falling on red curtains, tall, wooden bookcases and wardrobes, several armchairs…but no one around. She felt strangely cold as she pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes wearily, recalling the events that had happened…before she had drifted off. She realized she had no idea how long had passed since then, all she knew was that Caranthir and Imlerith had brought her here. At Eredin's orders, it finally dawned on her.

That thought alone was enough to make her jump to her feet, denying herself the comfort of the warm bed; but in spite of the strength she had mustered, her body was still fatigued. Her legs felt wobbly as she stood, forcing her to take a few moments to steady herself as the dizziness slowly faded. She could only assume she felt like that because of the spell the Wild Hunt Navigator had put on her—it was almost similar to something she had felt when Avallac'h had cast a similar but more powerful spell upon her.

"You'll regret it, Caranthir." She muttered under her breath as she strode towards the double door, which she was quite certain had not been left unlocked for her to just walk out. And the number of guards she saw stationed on the other side of the door as she peeked through the keyhole confirmed her assumptions. There was no point in even trying the door—other than alerting the guards of her having awoken. She decided to investigate the room in silence, careful not to give the soldiers a reason to believe she was in good condition—or worse, that she was planning her escape.

She had no illusion that she would find a way to do so in a room Eredin had ordered her brought to, but she still hoped to find something, anything, that would provide some help to get out, to return to her friends…

Geralt. Yennefer. Vesemir. All those she had put their lives on the line to protect her. All those she had left behind to protect from the Hunt's cruelty. She needed to find a way to return to them, and with every passing second, the desire to return to her world grew more intense. Whether it was the knowledge—or rather lack of knowledge—regarding Eredin's intentions, or the fact that she missed her family, she didn't know. And at that moment, she didn't care to find out.

She knew her power was still suppressed by a powerful spell—most likely the one placed on her shackles, since she assumed any of the remaining mages had the knowledge or power to place such a barrier over Tir na Lia—and she also knew that attempting to use her abilities would instantly alert Caranthir and Eredin of her whereabouts and intentions. Noticing the open balcony, Ciri walked up to it, the curtains shifting at the cold wind breeze as she passed by them.

"Naturally," She thought aloud as she came to stand behind the railing. "He'd make sure I'm taken to the highest room in the entire palace." She muttered under her breath as she looked down, at the world far below her, too far to make a rope out of sheets. There was no way to escape without breaking her neck if she tried to get out through the balcony.

She sighed, looking towards the horizon, noticing the pale red rays of a fading sun, reminding her so much of a dying world, nearing the end of its existence. Avallac'h had told her this was the fate that awaited all worlds, including hers, yet, the world of the Aen Elle would be the next to be taken by the White Frost.

"Eredin is driven by fear." Avallac'h had told her. But it was no excuse for his actions. Especially not when it was not only his world at stake. But Ciri assumed he did not see past the possibility of his own demise, nor did he consider anything other than using her for any uses she could find. To open the Gate. To stop the Frost.

And possibly, to bear him a child with Elder Blood in his veins.

Ciri glanced at the large, clearly comfortable bed. "Never. Not with him." She thought, frowning at the bed as she shook her head in utter denial. The very idea of lying next to him, of him touching her awakening the kind of disgust she had never thought she'd feel. Or at least, not when it came to him.

She sighed and looked around the room, taking several steps away from the bed as her she took in the details of her new room. An actual room, at that too. It was nicely decorated—she had to admit—and very clean. The furniture was made of what appeared to be oak, a brown yet beautiful shade, the walls, though made of stone, seemed a lot more warmer, seemed…less soaked in hopelessness, in darkness. There was a painting depicting what Ciri assumed was Tir ná Lia during its days of glory, before the Frost, before the threat of annihilation loomed over them. Then there were bookcases, mostly empty, with one or two books on each shelf.

"As if I could plan my escape with just any book." Ciri thought to herself as she rolled her eyes. Unless every book the Aen Elle had was on magic—which she seriously doubted—she found no reason as to why she barely even had anything to read in that whole room. Unless, of course, Eredin intended to try to "tame" and "discipline" her. Ciri knew he was capable of such things, in fact, she very much expected it of him. And she was determined to prove he would do anything but succeed.

She turned to the wardrobe that stood against the wall to the side of her bed, pulling its doors, only to find…just a seemingly close-fitting grey tunic and a pair of brown pants, not too dark but not light either, yet they matched the boots and gloves she was wearing. It seemed the room was the only thing that had changed-she had very few books to read and even fewer clothes to wear. She had half expected to find something more...provoking in her wardrobe, something matching her the dress she had worn when she had gone to meet Auberon. But there was no such dress.

She sighed softly, her thoughts wandering back to the home she had left behind while at the same time, the memories of the unpleasantness she had endured the last time at Tir ná Lia-of how all elves had treated her-haunted her. And she wished she could escape, wished she could do it again, for her friends, for her family…

But she knew such thing was not possible.

Eredin had learnt from his mistakes, from his underestimation and the tactics she had used to escape last time. Ciri doubted she'd be able to use the Easnadh again to escape. She was not opposed to trying, yet, she assumed Eredin would expect it. After all, he had expected many things, from their plan at Kaer Morhen, to her eventual surrender. And he had used the weakness he had so easily been able to identify-strangely enough, Ciri thought, when he cared for no one but himself and yet knew how much of an impact using her loved ones' lives to blackmail her would work. She found it disgusting, sure, and she despised him for it. Yet it was also proof that now it would not be like last time…which was what worried her the most.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped on the bed and rubbed her eyes thoughtfully. Come what may, she thought. She'd find a way. She'd rid herself of the magical binding around her wrists and then she'd go back to her friends, in her world, in her time.

Further in the palace, in the throne room, the Aen Elle King was comfortably seated upon his chair, his chin resting on the back of his hand as he stared out the glass of a window. He still held the last report he had received in his hand, the report that reminded him of what the situation in his kingdom was like. The report from one of those responsible for other regions of his realm…who, apparently, was so frightened that he wanted to be relieved of his duties over the provinces he governed.

He sighed as he looked over the report once more.

"Despite the significant measures already undertaken, the situation in the outer regions of Tilath na Viell, Tilath na Lia and Tilath na Crob've provinces has not improved. The Sages sent to handle the matter in the field have merely succeeded in delaying the advance of the White Frost, which slowly yet surely engulfs more and more territory. We must accept that Tilath na Buhne is now completely lost – the Sages did not reach it in time.

I recommend the swift evacuation of the endangered provinces and a strengthening and radicalization of measures intended to seize Aen Seidhe territory. Otherwise I must ask to be freed of responsibility for the provinces under my jurisdiction.

Inglor Helyanwe"

Eredin frowned and crumpled the paper in his hand.

"A strengthening and radicalization of the measures to seize Aen Seidhe territory" Eredin scoffed to himself. He dared tell such things, dared "advise" him to take measures when he was not the one in cause. The King of the Wild Hunt knew he'd have to handle Inglor and remind him of his place—and duties.

Yet, he was not on Eredin's list of priorities, because as much as he despised the situation, the entire realm was in danger, and there was only one way to save them. Only one territory far enough for the Frost not to reach—or reach at a later time. And only one who could take them there, yet the little swallow was feisty, she would prove harder to use than Eredin had initially thought. He considered his next move, considered his approach. She had changed much since she had last been to Tir ná Lia. She was no longer a child, she was a young woman… but she was still a dh'oine.

He had placed her in a room under constant surveillance, realizing the dungeon would do nothing but make her more reluctant to cooperate and more eager to escape. And though he had taken measures to ensure it would never happen again—that she'd never leave Tir ná Lia, he still needed her to be less…resilient. Less averse.

He decided to pay her a visit, after all, he had almost managed to persuade her into giving in to him the last time. She had desired him, she had been attracted to him…he had not fully taken advantage of it, he had underestimated her. He would not repeat those mistakes.

Still, he had succeeded in his endeavor to bring her here. And he would succeed in persuading her to do what was needed—one way or another. How was not important. Only the result.

And with that thought in his mind, Eredin Bréacc Glas sat up and strode with firm, confident steps towards the room he had ordered Cirilla to be placed in.

Ciri leaned against the doorframe to the open balcony, staring at the cloudy night sky. There wasn't much of a star visible, in fact, there was nothing but coldness and darkness. She had found several lamps and candles throughout the room—and much to her surprise, she had also found a small torch she had used to ignite them. She had hoped they'd make the room brighter, warmer somehow. More reminiscent of days than of dark nights like this one, where there was barely a star visible in the sky and moonlight absent.

There was little to nothing interesting to do in her room—much like Ciri had expected, it was only more comfortable than the dungeon, but just as boring, just as much a prison. Not that she'd expect anything better from Eredin.

Suddenly, she heard voices. She turned to look in the direction of the doors to her room, where the sounds seemed to be coming from. It didn't take more than a few moments after the voices stopped until she heard the click of a key into a lock, but it was enough for her to tense up and prepare. She had no sword, but she wasn't helpless. If Imlerith had come to satisfy his sadistic desires, he was going to be disappointed.

But to her surprise, when the door opened—without a knock or any signal besides the click of the key and the turn of the doorknob—it wasn't Imlerith who stepped in. It was Eredin, his posture arrogant as ever and his gaze impassive, cold, though his attention was clearly on her. He seemed to regard her, to study her before he closed the door behind him.

And his presence here, though surprising, only sparked a rush of anger in her. "Eredin." She frowned at the elf. "Came to bathe me with your squalor-soaked threats you've been preparing for?" There was expectance and coldness in her voice as she regarded him with a glare and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Is that what this room," He gestured around them. "implies?" He raised an eyebrow. "You should show some gratitude, Zireael." There was a warning in his voice, beneath all that arrogance Ciri had grown accustomed to hearing.

"Gratitude?" Ciri asked rhetorically, somewhat disbelieving of his…expectations. "For what? For you keeping me prisoner here? Threatening my friends?" She continued, angry and accusing as she took a few steps towards the elf. And all she could think of in that moment was what it would be like to hit him. Hard. Maybe a punch would wipe that smug expression off his face.

The King of the Wild Hunt sighed. "You would not come otherwise. It had to be done, yet your loved ones are safe, while you, luned..." He took a few steps towards her, yet he was confident and calm in his movements. "Are given a privilege few prisoners have." There was something suggestive in his voice. Ciri didn't like it one bit—not in the current situation at least, not after what he'd done. Not anymore.

"Prisoners." She repeated. "Of course." She thought to herself. She'd never been much in his eyes at all.

"Now tell me, Zireael, how are you liking the change?" He gestured around them.

"Nice room, a pity its empty." She began, pointing back in the general direction of the bookcase. She noticed his gaze follow her movements, yet it was so brief that she thought she might've imagined it. "Pleasant balcony, wonderful for breaking my neck." She spoke again, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"If you jump." He stated casually. "Which you won't."

"What makes you so certain?" Ciri put her hands on her hips. Her chains rattled and dangled, but she paid no heed to them—or to the stringing in her wrists.

For a few short moments, his gaze wandered over her body, sizing her up—but he quickly resumed his usual impassiveness as he spoke.

"The lives of your friends," Ciri's youthful face contorted in a scowl as her hands fell to her sides and her fists clenched. How dare he try blackmail her again? "The fact that you would not surrender without a fight…" He began approaching her. "I genuinely respect that about you, Zireael." He told her, and he saw the frown on her face fade. "It doesn't change much, but I suppose it is enough to make you more than a mere slave. A moth…" Ciri shook her head and scoffed, glaring at him once more.

"Get to the point." She told him coldly. "What do you want, Eredin?"

"Do I look like I come to request anything of you?" His tone dripped with arrogance and mockery this time. "I simply came to see how you are adjusting to the change, but perhaps the dungeon would, indeed, have been a better place for you—until you learn some discipline, at least." It was a warning, Ciri assumed. But she didn't give a damn about his threats.

"You told me once I'm nothing. Compared me to compost, called me a moth, now I'm just your prisoner." She said coldly, keeping the disappointment from showing in her voice as she remembered. Remembered what she'd felt towards him. Remembered how he'd treated her, how he'd tried to use her feelings to control her. "So why would you waste this beautiful room on someone like me?" She challenged him. Provoked him. He tilted his head back and regarded her with an icy stare.

"Aen Hen Ichaer." The King of the Wild Hunt stated coldly. "That's what you are. Nothing more." He added, somewhat disdainfully.

And it was during times like this Ciri wondered how come she had not seen him from the beginning for who he really was—an uncaring, cruel individual. How had she ever…

"Your training starts early tomorrow." He suddenly spoke again, breaking her out of her thoughts. "And don't consider trying to escape, luned." He added darkly with a warning in his tone. "This isn't like last time. Those beasts won't help you now. You'll die if you try." She could heard disdain in his voice as he narrowed his eyes, measuring her gaze—and she stared him in the eyes with fearlessness and determination in hers.

"That's what you told me last time." She defied him, provoked him again. Dared him to tell her otherwise.

"And yet you still did so. Do you expect to get away this time too?" He inquired. "Little swallow, so naïve." He added with an arrogant smirk, regarding her as if she was a silly child with hopeless, foolish dreams.

"You'll make a mistake sooner or later, Eredin. And it'll cost you dearly." She glared, and this time, her voice was laced with contempt and certainty.

"Heh, if that thought is the only comfort you've left…" He chuckled mockingly. "But my mistakes are over, Zireael. You won't escape. You'll remain here, and when your training is complete you will open the Gate of Worlds." It was not request, only a statement, and there was no emotion on his face as he spoke. Even his smirk had faded, giving way to his usual distant and cold attitude. "It is your destiny." He added grimly.

Ciri scoffed and shook her head. Destiny had chosen wrong. She would not bring upon a second Conjunction just because Eredin wanted. She couldn't…

"Va fail, luned." He nodded to her briefly before he turned towards the door and walked away. Yet, Ciri did not pay attention to him anymore. And she couldn't help but wonder, was this truly her destiny? Did he know for sure? Or was he lying?

She heard the key lock the door once more—just as she'd expected. And she sat down on the bed, surprised that he had not even seemed interested in laying with her—even if that reason would only be having an heir to the throne of Tir ná Lia and preserving the Elder Blood. Was he so disgusted with her?

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, rubbing her temples. Whatever training he had talked about, she knew she would have to be in good shape…to focus, and to assess her possibilities…maybe in his arrogance, Eredin would overlook something, something that would give her a chance to escape.

Or at least, she hoped it would be so, and as she allowed herself to fall on the soft mattress, her thoughts drifted to those she had left behind, shortly before the fatigue of having spent so long on the run took its toll on her and she fell into a deep sleep…

Sort of a cliffhanger here, but I am curious to read your speculations for the next chapters ;) Send them my way, pretty please :D

I would also like to apologize for the long wait, I am very sorry but I have been quite busy with a lot of projects, including Witcher 3 modding, at which I've started improving although there's still a lot for me to learn. However, I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible but also as good as possible.

I've already started working on the next one though so that update shouldn't take this long.

But most importantly, I would like to thank you all for staying around, for reading, for your time and for giving this fanfic a chance. I wasn't expecting so many readers and such positive feedback, but I am more than happy and grateful to you all. The Witcher truly is the best fandom I've ever been part of :D

I thank my two beta readers as well:

Elainezireael, for helping me solve the inconsistencies in the story and sharing her ideas and theories—conversations with you about the Witcher universe are truly enlightening, my friend, for both fanfics and mod ideas :D

Vic-of-thor, for reading, checking and suggesting ideas for this story, as well as his support from the very beginning—your support is much appreciated :)

And thanks also to a kind reader—who wished to remain anonymous—for a suggestion she gave me that I found works quite nicely.

With this said, I'm looking forward to reading your opinions :)

And the disclaimer of Tir ná Lia: I do NOT own anything, it all belongs to their rightful owners. I have only written this fanfic out of love and appreciation for the wonderful, complex universe of the Witcher. I make no profit nor do I intend to, I am simply happy to write my fantasies within this universe and happy that others find this story enjoyable. Many thanks also to CD Projekt RED for the masterpieces Witcher games, as well as to Andrzej Sapkowski for the masterpieces his books are.