The great hall of Kaer Morhen had seen many winters and many feasts, many nights where only the crackle of the hearth kept the silence at bay and Tonight was not one of them.
Firelight danced along the stone walls, the heavy wooden table at the center was crowded, tankards, bottles, half-finished plates of food all of it scattered without much care, as it always was when witchers decided to "celebrate."
Lambert leaned back in his chair, boots propped against one of the table legs, swirling what remained of his drink with a lazy grin.
"I'm telling you," he said, voice already carrying the looseness of alcohol, "he's going to end up in deeper shit than Geralt ever did."
Geralt didn't even look up from his cup. "That's a low bar."
Eskel chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
Lambert pointed across the table, straight at Seb.
"Look at him. Too calm, too clever for his own good. That kind always ends up tangled in something ugly. Politics, contracts that stink from a mile away…" He tilted his head slightly, smirk widening. "Sorceresses."
Ciri's head snapped toward him immediately.
"Oh, shut up, Lambert."
"What?" he shot back, unapologetic. "You think he'll just wander the Path, kill a few drowners, and call it a life? Please."
"He's not like that," Ciri insisted, her tone sharper now.
Lambert raised a brow. "Not like what?"
She hesitated for a second, then turned her gaze to Sebastian.
"…Right?"
Every eye at the table shifted to him.
Sebastian blinked once, caught squarely in the middle of it.
"…Why," he started slowly, glancing from one to the other, "are you all putting me on the spot like this?"
That only made Lambert laugh.
"Because it's fun."
Vesemir, who had been quietly observing it all from the head of the table, finally moved. He reached for a bottle, pouring into his cup before raising it slightly, enough to draw everyones attention.
"That's enough," he said, "You can speculate about his poor decisions after he's had time to make them on the path."
A few quiet laughs followed.
Vesemir's gaze settled on Sebastian, steady and proud in a way he rarely allowed to show so openly.
"To your first steps on the Path," he said.
Geralt lifted his cup.
Eskel followed.
Even Lambert, still smirking, raised his drink.
"and to your good health," he added.
Ciri hesitated for just a second… then lifted hers as well.
They drank.
The moment passed with warmth and with laughter,
But not all of it reached her.
Eskel noticed.
Leaning slightly closer, his voice dropped just enough to keep it between them.
"I know that look, Ciri."
Ciri didn't respond at first, staring down into her cup.
Then she exhaled, a quiet frustrated sound.
"…Damn it," she muttered. "It's different."
Eskel didn't interrupt.
"This isn't what I wanted."
Her gaze lifted, moving past the table, past the fire, landing on Vesemir.
"I wanted to leave with him," she said, more firmly now. "To see what it's actually like out there. To live it, not just hear about it." bitterness crept into her voice. "Not stay here, hiding like the world's going to swallow me whole if I step outside!"
They all got quiet.
"If anything," she went on, her grip tightening slightly around her cup, "everyone who's looking for me probably thinks I'm dead by now. It's been years after all!"
No one spoke for a moment.
Then Geralt did.
"Ciri," he said calmly "you know that's not true."
She frowned, looking at him.
"Yennefer told us not long ago," he continued. "Emhyr's still pushing north. Harder than before, waging another war."
"And I'd wager," Geralt added, "he's heard something."
Ciri's expression tightened. "How would he know that I'd be here? That doesn't make sense!"
"It doesn't have to," Geralt replied. "We got you out of Cintra quietly six years ago, yes. But a lot has happened since then." His gaze held hers. "He doesn't forget, and I'm sure he doesn't guess blindly, he knows that you are my child of surprise."
She shook her head slightly, her frustration rising.
"Then that's even more reason for me to go, don't you think?" she said. "To be out there, not locked away here.."
Geralt didn't answer, instead, he glanced toward Vesemir.
A small, almost imperceptible exchange passed between them.
Ciri noticed.
"…You already talked about this.." she said slowly, looking between them. "Didn't you?"
Neither of them denied it.
Her jaw tightened.
"You discussed something that concerns me with Uncle Vesemir," she said, her voice quieter now, almost hurt, "without me being part of it?!"
"Don't be like that, Ciri.."
She looked down, cutting him off without a word.
Then, Geralt exhaled softly.
And smiled.
"Get ready."
Ciri blinked, looking up.
"You're coming with me."
For a second, she didn't move, she almost forgot to breathe.
Her eyes darted from Geralt… to Vesemir… to Eskel… to Lambert,
And finally to Sebastian.
They were all smiling.
Even him.
"…Really?!" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You mean it?!"
Geralt shrugged slightly. "Unless you'd rather stay here with grumpy old Vesemir."
Vesemir snorted. "Ouch."
Ciri didn't even look at him.
Her gaze locked onto Sebastian, realization hitting all at once.
"You knew.."
He didn't bother pretending otherwise.
"I did."
Her eyes narrowed, though the smile breaking through ruined any attempt at anger.
"You let me sit here and.."
"It wouldn't have been much of a surprise otherwise," he said lightly. "Besides, having a celebration in my honor while you sulk in the corner didn't seem right, we can't do that to you."
She hit him.
Not hard, but enough.
"Damn you," she said, though her voice wavered slightly, a tear slipping free despite the smile on her face. "You're a good actor, all of you are.."
Before he could answer, she moved.
Fast.
Throwing her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace that caught him off guard for a second before he returned it without hesitation.
Then she pulled back just as quickly and turned,
Straight to Geralt, and did the same.
"Thank you," she said against him. "I won't slow you down. I won't.."
"You'll do what you always do," Geralt cut in, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder as she pulled back. "And we'll deal with it."
"You'll be safer with me than anywhere else," he added. "And we'll find out just how much truth there is to those rumors."
Ciri nodded, wiping at her cheek quickly.
"Alright.."
The mood shifted again, lighter now and easier.
Eskel leaned back, glancing toward Lambert.
"We're out."
Lambert frowned. "Out of what?"
Eskel lifted his empty bottle.
"Vodka."
Then Lambert pushed himself to his feet with a groan.
"Well that," he said, "is a tragedy that we can actually fix. I'll go get some more, pretty sure Ciri here wants to drink."
****
The hall behind them was still alive with noise laughter, the dull thud of tankards against wood, Lambert's voice rising above the rest in some half-drunken argument, but it began to fade the further they moved from it.
The stone corridors of the keep swallowed sound quickly, what remained was quieter. Warmer. More… private.
No one noticed the two figures peeling away, Ciri's walk was unsteady, she was drunk, her cheeks were flushed beneath the ashen hair that had come loose from its braid, her balance questionable at best, but her grip on Sebastian was firm, one hand hooked loosely into his collar, the other trailing along his arm as if she needed the contact to stay upright.
Or perhaps she just wanted it. "You're leaning," he muttered, steadying her as she nearly veered into the wall.
"I'm not.." she replied immediately, though she made no effort to correct it. If anything, she leaned a little more, her head brushing briefly against his shoulder.
"You are."
"I'm walking perfectly fine, while You just tried to walk through stone."
She laughed at that, the sound echoing faintly down the corridor as she tilted her head back slightly, her ashen hair slipping loose around her shoulders.
"Be quiet wolf, they'll hear us.."
Sebastian shook his head, "Ciri…"
She didn't let him finish.
Her hand slid up, catching his jaw lightly, pulling him down just enough for her to press a quick warm kiss to his lips.
Then another, and another, slower this time.
He exhaled quietly against her, one hand coming up instinctively to steady her again as she got closer, her balance clearly secondary to whatever impulse had taken hold of her now.
"You're drunk," he said, almost amused despite himself.
She smiled against his lips.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I've had worse."
"That doesn't make you sober."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her green eyes bright, unfocused in that, but still sharp beneath it, it was still her.
"You worry too much Seb," she murmured.
Then she kissed him again, by the time they reached the door, neither of them had quite noticed how they got there.
Ciri pushed it open without, the room inside was warmer than the corridors, lit by low candlelight that flickered softly against the walls. It was easily the most well-kept chamber in the keep, almost lavish, furs draped across the bed, polished wood where most rooms settled for rough stone, the faint lingering scent of lilac and gooseberries still clinging to the air.
Yennefer's room.
Or it had been.
Ciri didn't hesitate to take it after Yennefer left some time ago, she stepped inside, pulling him with her, the door left half-open behind them as she turned, her attention already back on him as if nothing else in the world mattered.
Another kiss this one less rushed,
Sebastian let out a quiet breath against her, one hand settling at her waist as she pressed closer again.
"You're definitely drunk, you should rest." he said, though his voice had softened.
She pulled back just far enough to look at him. Her pupils were blown wide, green eyes bright "You should be too."
Seb sighed. "I'm a witcher. Mutations you know? I've got high tolerance for harmful substances, half the things that would drop a normal man. I could drink the whole barrel and still walk a straight line across the battlements of the keep."
Ciri stared at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed.
"Right, tell that to Eskel..." she said.
She then shoved him hard, both palms flat against his chest. He let himself fall back onto the bed, Ciri climbed after him without hesitation, knees bracketing his hips, ashen hair spilling around her face, she braced her hands on either side of his head and leaned down until their noses brushed.
"I've never been so sober in my life," she whispered.
/
MC :
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