Of Things Unseen (Geralt of Rivia Fan Fiction)

| 1 |

{Ten Years Later-1263}

"How many times do I have to save your ass in one day, bard?" Geralt muttered under his breath. He led the way through the crowded street of Kaister, a village hidden between the kingdoms of Kaedwen and Kovir.

"I didn't need you to step in." Jaskier grumbled, messing with his lute.

"If Geralt hadn't saved your ass back there, those men would've killed you." Ciri told him very matter-of-factly. She followed just a few paces behind the bard, her shorter legs having to work nearly twice as hard to keep up with just Jaskier. Geralt was a lost cause. He always moved too quickly, too smoothly for her.

"Ciri." The witcher glanced over his shoulder to the young girl with hair so blonde it was nearly white. He wasn't a fan of the young girl cursing.

"I was just chatting." Jaskier pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The wind was relentless as they journeyed through the village. Snow had begun to fall a short time ago. The small fluffy flakes were quite brutal as they fell from the sky.

"And you were doing a grand job at that."

"Yeah, okay, Ciri. I don't need the attitude. I get plenty from him." Jaskier gestured to the witcher ahead of him. Geralt shook his head, mumbling a few curses to his ancestors.

Geralt placed his hand on the door to the tavern just as he heard rushed footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder to see two men moving quickly through the streets past him, bumping in to Ciri and Jaskier in the process.

Ciri watched them too. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she watched them disappear around the corner. An arm wrapped around her chest, pinning one arm to her side. A hand came up to latch on to her mouth. Ciri reached out to grab the sleeve to Jaskier's cloak. Her fingers just barely made contact with the coarse material before she was being ripped away and taken through the crowd.

Jaskier turned to make sure Ciri was okay after being pushed by the two rude men. His brows furrowed together when he didn't see the little girl where she had been at his side just a moment ago.

"Ciri?" He turned in a full circle, becoming frantic when he didn't see her. "Geralt!"

"What now?" Geralt turned to face him. When he saw that Ciri wasn't with the bard, all traces of annoyance disappeared and concern took over. "Where is Ciri?"

"She-I-I don't know. She was just right here. She was right here."

Geralt looked around, his eyes searching for the girl. The crowd was too thick, too full of people moving here and there. They were trying to get home or get what they needed before the blizzard hit.

"Geralt!" Her shrill cry came from his left.

His head snapped in that direction just in time to catch sight of a man hitting her over the head. She fell limp in his arms. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, Geralt took off through the mass of people, pushing and elbowing his way through. Jaskier was right behind him.

"Why are they taking her?" Jaskier asked. He was doing a surprisingly good job at keeping up with Geralt but only because Geralt couldn't sprint through the busy street.

Geralt rounded the corner he had last seen Ciri and the man. The witcher came to a sudden and unexpected stop, causing Jaskier to run into him.

"Why-Why are we stopping?" Jaskier panted, stepping out from behind Geralt.

Standing in the middle of the street was a woman. She wore a black cloak with the hood covering what dark red curls it could. Her skin was ivory white, a stark contrast to the cloak on her shoulders. Connected to the reins she held in her right hand was a white horse. The woman's head was tilted down towards the man laying on the ground. He was the one who had taken Ciri, who was also on the street unconscious.