The Caged Lioness

The Caged Lioness

By Harbinger96

Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher or have rights to any of it's characters. This story is for entertainment and makes no money. All characters in the story are 18 years of age or older.

A/N: Story takes place a few years after the events of the Witcher III, assuming Ciri gets the becomes a Witcher ending.

---

Ciri had been on the look-out for contracts for a full month without luck before rolling into the quiet and unassuming village of Willow Creek.

With her trusty steed Kelpie, the 23 year old witcheress trotted into the seemingly gentle hamlet, eyes always on the alert. She was seasoned enough to know that sometimes the sleepiest villages could be the ones to induce nightmares. She had learned this on her own and from years of Geralt's warnings.

Willow Creek was what you would expect of a frontier town; a wood mill, a blacksmith shop, a village trader, a number of scattered farms and a tavern.

"Need some new shoes?" Ciri asked, leaning down to Kelpie's ear and then scratching her head. "Hopefully we can refit you after a job well done, hey?"

If anyone had news about a job, it would likely be the inn or the village trader. With just a few sovereigns left, Ciri could afford a bed and a meal for herself hopefully long enough to get a fair lead on work.

The trot through town took no time at all, and soon the white-haired warrior was tethering Kelpie to the post and entering the single-floored inn, her sword on her back as usual. Certainly something she didn't want out of sight or out of reach.

"You lost, pup?" a grizzled dwarf asked from a corner table, a book in his hands.

"I don't believe so," Ciri said with an even tone, not sure how to approach this fellow yet. "Might the innkeeper be around? I'm looking for whispers about work."

"What sorta work?" he asked, his eyes drawn to the woman's hardware.

"Monster slaying, preferably," Ciri answered, her arms crossed under her gentle bust.

The dwarf's eyes narrowed as he studied the girl. "Bit small and er... female, to be a Witcher, aren't you?"

Ciri rolled her eyes and blew a strand of ashen hair from her face. "Makes me a little harder to hit. I'm pretty fast, and being a woman doesn't make my sword any less sharp. I'm grown woman who can take care of herself."

"Fair enough," the copper haired dwarf nodded. "Inn master's out for a spell. Paid me to hold her down for an hour or two. As for jobs, not a lot of monsters 'round here, but we've a bandit problem, as trade roads and frontier towns are likely to have."

"Just common bandits? I don't usually go for human sport, but coin is tight and I could lend a hand there," Ciri said, absentmindedly holding out a hand like she was already shaking on it.

"Innkeep doesn't have a lot of coin, but he does offer extended room and board for a decreased rate or free, depending on the job."

Ciri clicked her tongue and chewed her bottom lip a moment before asking, "And for this job?"

The dwarf rubbed his short bearded face. "Free room and board, about a month, I'd guess, given how long the bandits have been a problem. They've been keeping trade and travel a big distance away."

"I see," Ciri said, her shoulders slouching. "Well once he returns, I'll accept the job."

"Finally," the stocky fellow said. "About time I have a second person to help me flush these bastards out."

"You're on the job, too?" Ciri asked, her sleek eyebrow raising.

"Well of course. I'm the sheriff," he said with a dry chuckle. "Name's Zaradhin, but you can call me Zar or Zarad. We can do the job and I'll make sure he sees you properly paid. There's a bounty from me on it as well, but you didn't ask about it."

Ciri's jaw dropped. "Does that mean you will or won't compensate me as well?"

"Let's get back alive first, shall we?" Zaradhin chuckled as he pushed off from the table. "Are you ready to go or do ya need to rest and have a bite of sup first?"

"Well aren't you in a hurry?" Ciri scoffed.

"I can wait if need be, but these damned bandits are right pissing me off. They killed the last posse I tried with."

"One bandit camp, one Witcher, no problem," Ciri shrugged. "Though a bite of food wouldn't hurt. Rations are running a bit low."

Zaradhin smiled. "We'll fix you up something quick, and we'll be off. I do have to warn you, though. "These bandits are right clever."

---

Once Ciri had finished eating, the innkeeper had returned from his errand, but what it was Ciri would never learn. Zaradhin introduced the new traveler to the older man, Caringad.

Caringad offered two weeks room and board, Ciri took the deal, hoping to make actual coin from the sheriff, who would be her companion on this quest.

Zaradhin said that it wouldn't be a problem for them to wait if Ciri would rather be well rested, and she was more than obliged to take a nap.

By the time she had emerged from the room she claimed as hers for the next two weeks, should they survive, it was mid afternoon to early evening.

Ciri and Zaradhin saddled Kelpie and Rock Eater, their respective horses, and headed out. Zaradhin was tall for a dwarf, and Ciri had never seen a dwarf ride a full sized mare before, and she had to try not to remark on the sight.

Nightfall was maybe an hour off before they finally arrived at their destination, which appeared to be just like the rest of the woods they had been traveling through for the last hour.

"It might be in our best interests to split and go in separately, take them by surprise and hit them on two fronts," the dwarf suggested as he dismounted and pulled a shield and sword from Rock Eater's saddle trappings.

"I take it head-on didn't go well the first time?" the young beast slayer asked as she dismounted as well, and then pulled her sword from her back.

"No, it certainly didn't. I had a simple untrained posse, and these bandits seemed to be deserters from an army, but which one I couldn't rightly tell," he explained as he put a boiled leather helmet on his head and fastened the strap.

"Well, I'm ready if you are. I can go for the center and distract, cause plenty of noise and trouble if you want to set in from the rear?" Ciri offered.

"That could work. Try not to get yourself killed or into too much trouble before I can engage and do some damage. They picked a good hill with decent vantage points. It'll take me some time to get along back and through the thicket. They may see you quite some time before you see them, as well," Zaradhin warned.

"I think I can manage, as long as you don't take too long," Ciri said. "I haven't worked with many sheriffs. I'm hoping you can hold your own," Ciri said as she and her dwarf companion went their separate ways.

With sword drawn, Ciri stayed low to the ground and into the shrubs as she came closer to the winding and upward approach to the camp. The smoke tails rising from the camp's fires were the only indication of a camp Ciri could discern from her vantage point. These bandits did know how to hide their numbers and pick a defensive location. They must have seen service, as Zaradhin had suggested.

Up the hill she climbed, but she didn't hear any alerts, alarms, or signs that she had been spotted.

She came to the crest of the hill and tried to count heads, but the movement of the camp and the layout of the tents made it difficult to try to count numbers.

Sighing, the Cat School Witcher darted into a ring of tents, kicking up dirt. With a shrill cry, her sword sang through the air and cut down the first person she saw, and then another.

"Arms! Arms!" she heard from around her as she began to dart back and forth, engaging and striking down every dirty bastard she could get her blade on.

She had managed to get a good number down before they could organize, but it didn't take this pack long to form up and encircle her.

With the face of a tomcat and claws to match, Ciri stood her ground and hoped they would attack her in a disorganized fashion, or leave weak points in a formation that she could exploit and potentially break out of them by.

Unfortunately, the group stayed tight together and it became clear her best hope was the arrival of Zaradhin.

"Bring her down!" Ciri heard a commanding voice shout. She expected a charge and she dug her heels into the dry ground. What she wasn't expecting were ropes to be thrown at and around her, trying to snare her like a rabbit.

Ciri's quick reflexes bought her some time, but she had to dodge lassoes in the air and ones on the ground that could catch her feet.

Unfortunately for the feral warrior, it was only a matter of time before she got tired, and sloppy, tripping on a rope and then being caught with a lasso around her waist. She tried to fight out of it, but another lasso caught around her arm.

"No!" she shrieked in worry as she was pulled and danced this way and then that as she fought and struggled. She soon realized they were simply running her out, wearing her down like a stallion that had to be broken. But if she stopped resisting these men would have her.

Where was Zaradhin, she wondered as the fight continued to leave her.

As Ciri weakened, losing the game of tug-of-war, she was pulled into one edge of the circle of jeering men, to be roughly set upon by hands that groped her and tore at her clothes, ripping holes wherever their hands could touch.

"Stop it! Let go of me! You rat bastards!" Ciri screamed as they teased her and pawed at her lean, muscled body. They had roped her sword hand, leaving her practically defenseless. She had reached for the knife she kept in her belt, but one of the honorless soldiers had already seen it and seized it.

"Zaradhin!" Ciri tried, hoping he would crash out from the woods and buy her enough time to break free.

As her clothes were rendered more and more useless, brought to scraps and shreds by hands and knives by the men that had completely closed in and surrounded her, she felt more and more defenseless. The feeling of complete dismay set in when her trusty sword had been wrestled away.

Left with no weapon and large parts of her body exposed, Ciri threw her head back and cried out in anger as a pair of strong hands grabbed the front of her shirt and finally tore it wide open to expose her firm and pert breasts to them all.

Finally, with a roar louder than anyone could have expected, Zaradhin crashed in, his sharp blade finding plenty of fleshy targets as the group tried to focus on the new challenger.

With the ferocity of a god, Zaradhin cut down many foes, leaving the guard on Ciri small enough for her to take advantage and reclaim her sword. Now with two capable warriors in their camp and amongst them, the fight seemed far more even.

Ciri wasn't sure what to expect from the sheriff, but he proved himself to be a much more skilled combatant than she could have expected.

As she watched the strength and surprising zeal of her new counterpart, she was taken by surprise from behind, an arm wrapping around her mostly exposed waist and a dagger at her throat.

"Let the lass go!" Zaradhin bellowed, the last three of them now between he and Ciri.

"We'll bleed her right here!" the one with the knife shouted. "Be a shame to kill such a pretty and spirited bitch though, wouldn't it?"

Ciri knew she couldn't fight, couldn't try to wrestle out with how close the sharp blade was to her life veins. She could teleport away, maybe, but even that was highly risky.

"I'll make you three a deal; let the girl go and I swear to my mother and all of yours that I won't kill you all and fuck your corpses. However, if you hurt the girl, I promise you I'll take hours to kill you. You'll wish you were still with Nilfgaard or wherever you pricks came from."

Ciri had every faith that Zaradhin could disembowel these last three if they did anything to harm her, and by the hesitation around her, they believed it too.

"You promise if we let the bitch go, we get to go?" the one with the knife asked.

"Swear to our mothers," Zaradhin confirmed. "I won't harm you."

The one with the blade nodded and slowly released Ciri and began backing away.

Once three paces from Ciri, Zaradhin threw his sword to Ciri, caught it, whirled around and killed her assailant. The other two broke and tried to run, but were unable to escape the wrath of a Child of the Elder Blood. He said he wouldn't harm them, but Ciri never made that deal.

With the camp empty, bodies around them, Ciri lowered Zaradhin's sword, letting it rest in her hand and the tip grazing the ground.

"You all right, lass? By the looks of your... what's left of your clothing, those whoresons would have given you a nasty evening," Zaradhin said with a lowered, almost soft voice as he approached the nearly-stripped Witcher.

Ciri sighed and handed Zaradhin his trusty sword back as she squatted to the ground and picked hers back up, but she stayed low to the dirt, the evening air chilling the sweat on her exposed left thigh.

"Thank you, Zaradhin," Ciri said, looking up at him with her sharp green eyes, the deep scar under one of them making her look noble in the last orange kisses of the setting sun. "Had I tried to take this job by myself, or if you weren't the warrior you showed yourself to be...."

"Think nothing of it, lass," Zaradhin tried to shake off.

Ciri scoffed and looked at her ripped up leather pants. "And to think I was more worried about you not being able to hold your own."

Zaradhin chuckled. "You were quite the distraction, as we planned. You took down your fair share of these bastards, too. Between the two of us, we liberated Willow Creek."

"Yes we did, Zarad," Ciri agreed, using his nickname, "but it was me about to be ravaged, and then me with the knife to my throat. It was you that saved me twice," she pointed out.

"All in a day's work," the humble dwarf shrugged as he took off his helmet and dropped it to his feet.

Ciri stood back up to her full height and picked up his helmet with one hand and planted her sword in the dirt in front of him with her other before dropping to one knee.

Zaradhin tweaked an eyebrow, not understanding what was happening.

"I underestimated you, overestimated myself. You saved me. Twice. For the two weeks I remain in Willow Creek, I pledge myself to you to pay off the debt I owe you for my life. For the next 14 days, I am yours to command without question, and without hesitation. Do you accept my pledge?"

Zaradhin scratched his well-kept beard and hummed and hawed for a moment as Ciri looked up at him expectantly. "That sounds like a lot, lass, and I don't know what to do with the services from such as yourself, but I feel like I would be a fool to say no. I also wouldn't want to wound your honor by denying such a thing, so... I accept your services and your pledge for as long as you stay in Willow Creek."

Ciri smiled broadly and rose back to her feet. "Thank you, Zarad, for saving me and for accepting my offer. I will not disappoint," the nimble fighter said. "Shall we return to the horses?"

"First, let's see if we can't find you a tunic or a cloak to hide your... well, you, a bit better before we turn back," Zaradhin suggested. "I don't mind the sight, but we should preserve what modesty we can."

Ciri smiled coyly at the berserker in front of her. "I'm in your services for the next two weeks, Zarad, to follow your commands without question. If you don't mind the sight, then perhaps I shouldn't cover up yet?"

Zaradhin chuckled and rubbed his chin. "You're a cheeky lass, you are. And it will be after dark when we return...."

"All true," Ciri agreed.

"Well let's find you a cloak you can wear if you get chilled before we have you back to the warmth of the inn," he said, meeting her half way on her proposal.

---

As Zaradhin had expected, it was fully dark when he and Ciri returned to Willow Creek, triumphant and able to hide Ciri's embarrassment of almost being stripped naked by deserters.

"Everyone's either at the inn, or off to bed," Zarad said, patting the neck of his horse. "Even if half the village is playing Gwent and drinking, nobody'll notice the state of your dress. That cloak we found goes a good way to cover you."

"I appreciate your efforts to help me cover my modesty, Zarad. You're truly kind," Ciri said with a smile as they approached the hitching post, both riders dismounting.

"I'll see to getting these beauties fed and then I need to take a bath," Zarad chuckled, wiping some grime from his face, a mixture of dirt and someone's blood.

"If you can manage to secure a tub, I can feed Kelpie and Rock Eater. I'll meet you inside," Ciri suggested, petting Kelpie's long black mane. Zarad nodded and headed back inside.

Once greeted by firelight, the small sheriff closed the heavy wooden door behind him and stopped as the inn quieted and all eyes turned to him.

"Well?" the innkeep asked. "Did you and that Witcher drive off the bandits? Did she perish?"

Zarad took a deep breath and swung his shield from his back, showing everyone the new cuts and bashes in case the dried sweat and drying blood on his face and clothing weren't enough.

"The bandits are dead. All of them. The Witcher, Ciri, is a brave lass and shouldn't be taken lightly. She's a hell of a warrior and I couldn't have cleared the camp without her." He took a pause and then chuckled. "We each need a bath, though. Was a lot of killing, we did."

The door opened behind him and Ciri crept in, a little timid in her approach. Witchers were often snarled at and not trusted by common peoples, and she wasn't sure what to expect, even after a job was done.

The innkeep saw Ciri standing behind Zarad, the cloak coiled around her to hide her tattered appearance, the firelight highlighting the deep scar on her otherwise flawless face. He smiled and raised a tin tankard. "To Ciri and Zarad!"

Ciri looked to Zarad in a mix of confusion and wonderment as the two were praised with toasts and shouts of approval before the revelry went back to their prior business.

"C'mon, this way," Zarad said, taking Ciri by the hand and leading her around the tables towards the front bar, being met by "good job!" "Great work!" and "Thank you!" as they went.

"You two are the heroes of Willow Creek! Those bandits have been a plague on this village for nigh a year, chasing away all kinds of folks and business, smothering this town. Zarad tried to push them out once or twice before, but you two as a team managed it, and we couldn't be more grateful," Caringad beamed. "Zarad said you each need a bath, and by the looks of you two, he's right."

Without blinking an eye, Ciri said, "We won't try to put you out too much. One tub would be just fine."

Zarad instantly twisted at the neck and turned to look at her, bewilderment in his eyes and a stunned expression on his face, making the good-natured Caringad laugh with his full body.

"I won't complain about the efficiency," the innkeep said as he shuffled off to the bathhouse adjoining the inn that he ran.

He came back a few moments later. "We have just the one tub, but it's sizable for a number of guests. Given what yous did for the town, I can assure you two some privacy for your heated soak. Fires are stoked and she's heating up. Towels are stocked as well. Soap'll have to be your own, I'm afraid."

"Thank you for your generosity, Caringad," Ciri said with a pleasant smile. "We'll take your offer of privacy. I rather expected a single tub, though I didn't expect one large enough for multiple people here. Such is the way in the public bathhouses of Nilfgaard, but I didn't expect such accommodations here. Please don't take offense."

"None taken, Mistress Witcher," Caringad chuckled. Enjoy your soak."

"Come then, Zarad. Let's remove the fight," Ciri said, turning to walk through the populace, none of them knowing about the intimate bath the two warriors were about to share.