For the June of Doom prompts: 9 "Accident", 11 "Collapse"
She had run into him totally by accident. If not for her magic and quick reflexes, it could have easily turned into a deadly accident, too. Luckily, it did not. Still, there are consequences from this chance encounter, one being that, at the moment, she is sitting on a slightly moist, sandy cave floor instead of having a well-deserved, luxuriously hot and bubbly bath accompanied by an assortment of exotic fruits and a glass of dark red wine, preferably a vintage Est-Est. And afterward a long and refreshing sleep in her comfortable, big four-poster bed with the many fluffy pillows and warm blankets.
How on the continent has she ended up her? Sabrina sighs tiredly. Well, it is entirely her fault, she has to admit. She can only blame herself. She could have handled things differently. Well, actually, she still could. Yet, giving up now only because she is completely exhausted and clammy and cold and uncomfortable would mean to accept defeat, and that is not in her nature, no. She will survive a night in the cave with him. Hopefully, he will survive it, too.
While he is sleeping fitfully in the other corner of the cave, shivering slightly in the chilly draft coming in from the ocean and whimpering softly from time to time, her thoughts wander back to how this mess began, hardly more than an hour or so ago.
Dusk had already fallen when Sabrina was hurrying up the winding footpath back from the docks toward the still smoking main building of Aretuza. She did not expect to meet anybody on her way, no, not at all, and especially not him.
Luckily the musicians she had invited to perform at the ball had survived the attack on Aretuza and the resulting fighting unscathed and with their beloved instruments intact, albeit shocked to the core by the events they had witnessed. As Valdo Marx and his merry troupe had come to Thanedd on her initiative, Sabrina had felt responsible for their safe return to Cidaris, or wherever their next gig was going to take place. She had wanted to personally make sure they all were on board of the last ferry, probably to never accept an invitation to Thanedd ever again.
Well, if they happen to have another ball here somewhen in the future, Sabrina muses, they can hire Yennefer's bard instead. The guy has guts. He is still here. Jaskier the bard is not only a talented singer but also quite attractive, come to think of it, and, from what she has heard, not exclusively into men, like Valdo. Good chest and chest hair, too, she got a fleeting glimpse of it. Sabrina smiles to herself. She would definitely not kick the man out of her bed, on the contrary. And luring him into it might be easier than bedding Yennefer's Witcher. The White Wolf was surprisingly - and very disappointingly - immune to her female charms and magic. Now he will probably die, and that without a taste of her. A pity.
So, Valdo Marx and his musicians, that was why she was outside late and on her own. But Sabrina was not afraid. She is a powerful witch after all, and she knew that Fringilla, Francesca and the few surviving elves and Nilfgaardian soldiers had fled the island in their boats right after Tor Lara exploded. The traitor Vilgefortz had been seen entering the tower shortly before and must have exploded with it, may he rest in pieces - very small ones if you asked her. This left nobody on the island besides the surviving sorcerers and sorceresses, and Yennefer's bard. Or so she thought.
She was wrong. For he was still here. The enemy commander who had given the order to shoot at them - with dimeritium-tipped arrows. She had hurled a deadly fireball at the man after he had killed Drithelm of Kovir. Too bad that he had noticed it just in the nick of time and managed to dodge the deadly projectile by diving behind a pile of rubble. What became of him after that, Sabrina had no idea. Obviously, he had not died from Tissaia's thunder spell but had somehow made it out of the building alive. Yet, not off the island.
With black clouds announcing the thunderstorm that would soon be upon them, she was hurrying up the narrow footpath and rushing around a rock outcrop when, suddenly, she found herself face to face with the enemy, hardly more than half an arm-length between them. Both caught utterly by surprise, they stopped in their tracks abruptly, just so avoiding to physically crash into one another. They froze where they stood. Despite the twilight, Sabrina recognised the man right away, but it was not that difficult, really. After all he was still wearing his blood-stained and, by now, badly battered Nilfgaardian armour. She was sure he knew who she was, too. For a long, tense moment, they stared at each other, his face dirty and pale and no less blood-spattered than his armour. Then he fainted into her arms. Shit!
Sabrina staggered backwards, losing her balance, the abyss almost directly behind her. The stone under her feet started to crumble and give way. Quick-witted, she whispered a spell. Together with the passed-out Nilfgaardian, she was catapulted several metres forward, away from the cliff's edge, preventing the both of them from tumbling down the rock face and to their death. Well, to be honest, she would not have minded much if he had taken the deadly fall. But, although a blonde, Sabrina is not stupid, far from it. The enemy commander might be in possession of valuable intelligence about Nilfgaard's invasion plans and Vilgefortz' involvement in their war efforts. It would be unwise to let him die without taking advantage of this knowledge. However, Sabrina remembered well the fact that Tissaia had tried to force the very same man to spill his secrets before - with zero success. Obviously, her interrogation method was not the right way to do it with this particular Nilfgaardian. Time for a different approach, Sabrina decided. And she already had an idea, an excellent one. Yes, the sorceress smiled to herself, she would bet any money that this was going to work.
It might even be fun.