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hidden-misthios · 1 year

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Something in the Orange (part 1)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 230

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: Just like my last Lambert fic, this one is going to be a mix of games, books and show. Excuse any grammar errors you find.

Find me.

Those were the only words Y/N heard in her dreams for last eight nights. She didn��t even see a person who kept repeating them and it was tiring.

A dark fortress surrounded by a veil of rain and brief flashes of thunder. Not a place she ever visited but Y/N had a feeling she knew the place like a palm of her own hand. As soon as she approached old wooden doors and opened them, the melody of the organ started playing in the distance, filling her ears. No matter how much she wandered around the castle, she could never find the person playing them nor the instrument itself. At some point, she would give up, but each time, the music would become louder and faster. Then, she would suddenly remember why she came here in the first place. She was looking for someone! But as soon as she tried to remember who it was, the world around her started to spin, making Y/N feel like she’s going to fall. She would close her eyes, trying to focus but nothing helped.

And then she would wake up.

In her bed at her own house, in middle of Novigrad.

She didn’t have time or energy to interpret her own dreams. As an oneiromancer, Y/N’s job was to read the future and past using the dreams of others. Her own had to wait for now.

***

Corrine Tilly, Y/N’s mentor, was furious again. Y/N was late for fourth time this week and those dreams were the reason why. Y/N didn’t share them with Corrine yet but she owned her mentor explanation. That is, if Corrine doesn’t fire her.

“You know, if you don’t want to work for me anymore, you’re free to go. This is getting ridiculous.” Corrine said, crossing arms on her chests. Y/N closed the doors behind her and approached the brown-haired woman. Corrine was young sorceress who built quite a reputation for interpreting other people's dreams. Her customers were usually wealthy residents of Novigrad but every now and then someone from outside of city walls would show up and ask for her help.

Corrine lived off this money for seven years now and she could afford an apprentice. Y/N was quite lucky to learn from Corrine. She learned how to control the dreams better. Which, for some people proved harder, especially if they weren’t truthful at first.

“I’m sorry Corrine, I really am.” Y/N started. “But it’s not my fault.”

“No?” Corrine raised her eyebrows and starts slowly pacing around the customer room. This was the biggest room of the house and it was fully decorated to look and feel like a bedroom. There was a spacious bed full of pillows, big carpet, lots of candles and clary sage incense for customers to fall asleep easier.

“I-I…” Y/N tried to sort out her thoughts “I have dreams.” she said, fully aware that everyone else would find these words absurd but she knew her mentor. Corrine knew very well what those words meant.

“What kind?” woman asked in serious tone, sitting down on her chair and crossing her legs. That was her spot whenever she would interview the customer and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like one at the moment.

“Recurring.”

“For how long?”

“Eight nights.” Y/N answers.

“And you’re telling me this now?” Corrine asks. Y/N could swear she heard disappointment in her mentor’s voice.

“I didn’t want to bother you. I knew our schedule was full this week-”

“Y/N, you’re not just someone I’d squeeze into schedule. If you have any kind of problem, not just dream related…you can always count on me.” Corrine’s face softened.

Y/N was about to say something when the doorbell rang and they both turned to the doors. No one was supposed to arrive until noon. It was too early.

“I’m sorry, but we are not taking in any new customers right now-” Corrine stood up.

“Good thing I’m not new, then.” Jaskier’s head popped up through the door.

“Viscount. Come in.” Corrine smiles at the bard. Although Jaskier said he doesn’t care about his viscount title, Corrine was still addressing him as one.

Jaskier approaches her with a wide smile, theatrically leans down and kisses Corrine’s hand. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes but still smiled a bit. She had to admit, her best friend knew his way around women.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear Corrine.” Jaskier speaks and then finally turns to Y/N.

“What brings you here?” Y/N asks. Usually, they would meet at Rosemary and Thyme, the cabaret that Jaskier himself owned. Before Y/N found Corrine, she worked there to help him out and in return Jaskier gave her a roof over her head.

“We need to talk.” Jaskier says completely serious this time. Corrine took that as her hint.

“I’m going out. If you need me, I’ll be at Triss’ place.” she says, throwing the dark blue cloak around her shoulders. They said their goodbyes and as soon as sorceress left, Jaskier moved closer to Y/N.

“Look at this.” he hands Y/N folded piece of paper. Y/N opens it. It was a letter, obviously written in distress or hurry.

Bard,

In light of recent events, I have no choice but to ask for your help. I cannot discuss the details in this letter but I assure you, if you still care about the White Wolf, you’re going to want to join us as soon as possible.

He’s missing.

P.S. Oh, and bring a sorceress along. I am aware you know quite a few.

Y/N looks back to Jaskier. This sounded odd. Jaskier took the letter back, looking at it like it might tell him more if he asked nicely.

“Who sent this?” Y/N asks. She figured that the White Wolf was Jaskier’s friend Geralt of Rivia, the witcher she had only seen once. But the V on the bottom of the page wasn’t giving any clues.

“It’s probably Vesemir, Geralt’s mentor.” Jaskier said, folding the letter.

“Why does the witcher need your help? What are you going to do? Sing them your latest hits until they figure out where Geralt is?” Y/N asks, raising her eyebrows. Jaskier give her an annoyed look.

“Very funny. Also no, because I happen to be very good at tracking-”

“Jaskier, you got lost on your way from Oxenfurt to Novigrad.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to complain, but Y/N wasn’t having it. “It’s a 15-minute-long horse ride.”

“It was early morning; I was still half asleep.”

“Forget I said anything.” Y/N realizes she should drop it. She turned around and started preparing incense for their first customer that day.

“Are you coming with me?” Jaskier asked.

Y/N turns around to face him again. “To Kaer Morhen? Jaskier, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You are a sorceress and Vesemir said I should bring one.” Jaskier shrugged. Y/N gave him a look.

“He didn’t mention me specifically. I’m sure Felicia Cori would love to help you out.” Y/N said. Felicia was practically Geralt’s fan from the moment she heard about him in Aretuza, academy for young ladies who were practising magic. She lived couples of streets further and was a good friend of Corrine.

“But I’m not asking her, I’m asking you, Y/N.” Jaskier said, slowly losing his patience.

“How on earth is my skill of any use to you or them? We don’t even know what happen to your friend!” Y/N says, crossing arms on her chests.

“You could form a dream for Vesemir and see where Geralt is.” Jaskier suggested.

“You know that those don’t always work for missing persons.”

“I know but can you just once believe my judgment?” he asks. Y/N raised her eyebrows. She believed his judgment lots of times and it usually meant nothing but trouble. This sounded like one as well.

“Absolutely not. Jaskier, I’m not horse riding for a week for no reason. I have no clues, no ideas how to handle this. And also, how am I supposed to leave Corrine? She’s already pissed at me for being late-”

“Let me handle everything. And we are not horse riding.” Jaskier says proudly.

“No?” Y/N asks, tilting her head a little.

“I’ll show you.”

***

And there they were, the next day, at Rosemary and Thyme’s attic. There was only one candle burning and the air was filled with dust, smell of old books and costumes. Y/N had to jump over a couple of old suitcases before they finally stopped walking.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, dusting herself off.

Jaskier didn’t answer but started looking through the old bags on the floor. Y/N crossed arms on her chests, waiting for the bard’s explanation.

“Ah, here it is!” he finally said. Y/N looked at his hands. He was holding a crystal. Not just any crystal. That was a power crystal and it was used specifically for portals.

Y/N gaped. “Jaskier, how did you get that?” she asked cautiously. Jaskier started moved further into the dark attic, Y/N following him.

“Turns out doing favours for sorceresses has its perks.” he answered merrily.

“Do you even know how it works?” Y/N raised eyebrows.

“Of course! I’ve been to Kaer Morhen on multiple occasions thanks to this portal right there.”

“Fine. Turn it on, then.” Y/N says, her voice suddenly soft. Ironically, she didn’t like portals. Traveling through them was quick but Y/N preferred other methods. Unfortunately for her, this was the only magical way to get into Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier cleaned the crystal with his sleeve and then moved closer to the wooden wall. There, Y/N saw a shelf with nothing but small steel stand in the middle of it. Jaskier slowly approached and placed the crystal on the stand. Nothing happened.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, suddenly worried.

“We need to revive it. It’s dead.” Y/N realized.

“How? I’m no medic nor-”

“Move.” Y/N tells him and Jaskier obeys. Y/N takes the crystal in her hands and clears her mind. Using a simple, yet powerful spell, Y/N starts off the crystal. Its core started glowing and she places it back on the stand. Loud sound of wind filled their ears. The wall in front of them vanished and dark twirling circle appeared instead.

The portal was open.

“Let’s go.”

The welcoming party is not really welcoming, Y/N thought as soon as she saw the unfamiliar faces. Jaskier didn’t seem like he was bothered by it. They walked across the long hall and approached the table occupied by two armed men who didn’t exactly smile at their presence.

“Eskel, Coen. Nice to see you again.” he slightly lowered his head.

“Who’s this, bard?” the taller one, Eskel, Y/N presumed, asks as he crossed his arms on chests. He looked like he wasn’t happy to see newcomers. Or oldcomers. Or anyone at this point.

“Ah, yes, right, manners. This is Y/N. Very powerful sorceress. Vesemir told me to bring one. So, I did.” Jaskier explained.

“Pleasure.” Y/N said, trying to sound more delighted than she truly was.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Eskel said.

“What is that supposed-”

“Enough.” a deep voice echoed through the hall. “Jaskier. Sorceress. Please join me.”

Y/N and Jaskier both turned around towards the exit. There, was an older man standing, his face scarred and old but still Y/N felt like his presence required utter respect.

That must be Vesemir, Y/N realized.

Jaskier and Y/N both joined him. Jaskier briefly introduced them and Y/N nodded at the old witcher. Vesemir then led them down the hall without word. They walked for a while in silence, passing by several closed doors, until they finally reached the right one.

Vesemir opened the door and let them into the big round room with high celling. There, in the middle of it, stood one large table. The walls were filled with books, bottles and various herbs. Old chandelier in the middle of room was the only source of light.

They approached the table and Vesemir unfolded three papers in front of them.

“This is all we got.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

Jaskier took the first paper and stood next to Y/N. There, in the middle of the page, were three words written in black ink.

“That could be Elder speech. Really old one.” Y/N said. She learned basics at the academy, but these writings were definitely old. She wasn’t even sure if she saw them in their school books.

“Do you know what does it say?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“I’m not sure. Let me see.” Y/N says, taking the letter from Jaskier’s hands.

“It’s not in any of our books. I tried everything but couldn’t make a sense of it. The last letter that arrived is the only one that’s written in Common.” Vesemir said, handling the smallest piece of paper to Y/N. She frowned.

This one was indeed written in Common speech but this time ink was dark red. Y/N sincerely hoped it wasn't blood.

“Wolf got taken. “She read the first sentence and then noticed another one on bottom of the page. “Will pay for his sins.”

Their Common is not perfect. Who could this be? Elves?

Y/N noticed how Jaskier’s jaw clenched. She never saw him this quiet and serious.

Vesemir then hands her the last paper. This one had a drawing. It was a simple one, but Y/N immediately figured what it was - an open palm of hand, with drops of blood on each finger. In the middle of the palm was a much bigger drop of blood, shaped like a tear.

“When did you get these?” Y/N asks, looking at all those letters in her hands.

Vesemir opened his mouth to answer but the loud squealing of door hinges interrupted him. The door opened and stranger walked in. With wolf medallion hanging around his neck and long red curls framing his face, he walked towards them.

“Stop wasting time, Vesemir.” he looked at his mentor, completely ignoring Jaskier and Y/N.

Y/N raised her eyebrows slightly.

Would it kill them to show some politeness?

“Lambert, this is Y/N. She’s going to help us decode these letters. And you’re going-”

“We should be out there looking for him! Not wasting time with these stupid letters.” he raises his voice. Vesemir gave him look of complete disapproval.

“You don’t get to decide what is a waste of time or isn’t. Now, show Y/N the library and get her whatever will be needed.”

For a second, Y/N thought Lambert would just storm out but then he finally looked at Y/N.

“Follow me, witch.” he muttered quietly, the anger still present in his tone.

Y/N squinted her eyes. “Sorceress.” she corrected him. Lambert just stared at her, his eyes also squinting. Jaskier, still standing on Y/N’s right side, stepped forward and cleaned his throat.

“Term ‘witch’ is mostly used by those who call themselves witch hunters, you know, it’s usually a derogatory term-”

“I know. Now, follow me.” Lambert interrupted him, still not looking away from Y/N. Y/N didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her in discomfort so she stepped forward and joined him.

“Find me if you need anything.” she told Jaskier before leaving, giving him a comforting look.

Jaskier nodded, but she could see concern in his eyes.

Finally, she turns to red headed witcher and joins him down the hall. They walked in silence, Lambert clearly keeping his distance. Unfortunately for Y/N, the library was located at the other end of the Kaer Morhen and their awkward, silent walk took a while.

“Does your library have any books of First elves?” she asks when they finally made it. Lambert sat on top of the table and shrugged.

“Do I look like librarian? I have idea. I haven’t been in this part of castle for 5 years. You’re on your own, witch.”

Y/N approached the table so quickly she even surprised herself. Lifting her hand, with a small orb of red light in it, she pushes it towards his face. Lambert face was stone cold, no fear.

“Call me witch one more time, I dare you.” she hissed. She lowered the orb a little. He didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Don’t challenge me if you can’t keep up, sweetheart.” he suddenly grins. Y/N was about to protest but then she feels a soft pressure just above the bellybutton. She lowers her eyes and sees short but sharp blade, resting on her corset.

Y/N frowns.

“Seems like you’re forgetting why I’m here, witcher.” she warns him, ignoring the blade. Lambert raises his eyebrows a little then finally drops the blade. Y/N still stepped aside just in case.

“To decode some stupid letters, which are-”

“Yes, yes, waste of time. Now let me work if you don’t plan on helping me.” she says and walks away towards the shelves.

She heard Lambert mummering something but this time she decides to ignore him, switching focus on those old books in front of her. It was clear that someone organized them alphabetically long time ago but every now and then she would find some who obviously wouldn’t fit into that order. There was lots of books about herbs, survival skills and potion making but those weren’t helping at all. So, she moved to another bookshelf. There, Y/N found some historical books about Continent.

Beatrix of Kovir.

The Elder Blood.

The Conjunction of the Spheres.

And then, Y/N saw it. The old, yellow copy of Elder Speech Dictionary. She grabbed the book and started flipping pages. Few minutes passed by and…

Nothing.

All the symbols, words and phrases were something she was already familiar with. She sighed and put the book back in its place. She knew this wouldn’t be easy. Y/N took another look at those letters. That hand symbol bothered her. She felt like she saw it somewhere.

*Few hours later*

It was dark outside when Y/N finally looked through the library window. Some time ago, Jaskier showed up with a glass of wine and dinner which Y/N barely tasted. She couldn’t eat until she figured out the hand symbol. Lambert was long gone, with no explanation or excuse, but Y/N certainly didn’t mind.

Just some time after midnight, the doors of the library opened again.

“You’re still here?” Vesemir asked, entering the room and then closing the doors behind him.

“I can’t sleep until I figure this out.” Y/N answered, flipping through the Book of Urban Myths. Truth is, she was not looking forward to her dreams. She knew she would have to relive that dream all over again.

Vesemir chuckled, but it sounded miserable. “I appreciate the optimism but I’m afraid the books won’t do much of help.”

Y/N stopped flipping through the book and looked at Vesemir.

“You’re right. We should try my method.”

“Which is?” he raises eyebrows.

“Jaskier didn’t tell you? I’m oneiromancer.” Y/N said, closing the book in her hands.

Vesemir thought about it for a second and then slowly nodded. “We should give your method a chance then.” he said, crossing arms on his chests.” But not with me since I haven’t seen Geralt for a while now and therefor won’t be much of use to you. You should do it with the one who last saw him.”

“And who was that?” Y/N asks, glad he agreed with her.

“Lambert.”

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shortamarble · 2 years

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do y’all have any “geralt hearing burn butcher burn” fic recs? i’m having brainrot and i need to feed it else it take over my life.

#the witcher #witcher fics #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #dandelion #jaskier

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astaldis · 11 months

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Witcher Monster MAYhem masterpost

New works (41.033 new words) written for the event prompts (in chronological order of events):

Shimmering Scales and Stormy Seas (Words 800): This is the story of Jaskier's first time. Decide yourself if it is true or just a tall tale. Smut! (13. shimmering scales, mermaid, mesmerised, 22. Seduction)

Of Smelly Sewers and Man-eating Monsters (Words 2,808): On the run from the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, Yennefer and Cahir travers the ancient elven aqueduct on their way from Gors Velen to Oxenfurt to find the Sandpiper. But not only the monster with the many tentacles is lurking in the sewers. (6. Terrifying tentacles, Zeugl, 21. Ancient abomination, 28. Absurd amphibian)

A Most Unusual Plant (Words 1,765): Jaskier saves a cow! With Geralt's help, of course - A little monstery adventure Geralt and his company have on their way to find the druids. (Set during the events of Baptism of Fire, more exactly after the Fish Soup and before the Battle on the Bridge. You don't need to have read the books though to enjoy the story.) (19. Acid attack, Archespore)

Of Eery Eyes and Vicious Venom (Words 500): While travelling with the Witcher and his friends in search of Princess Cirilla, Cahir faces a frightening monster. (7. Vicious venom, paralysed, 10. eery eyes, 15. eyehead)

A most interesting read (Words 2,534): While Geralt and his strange company are on their way to the druids of Caed Dhu, Milva asks Cahir to read a very special book for her. (26. Grim Giant)

How to Kill a Troll (Words 7,612): Geralt and Cahir go on a monster hunt together. Set the summer after Stygga (1268). (14. Reverberating roar, 26. Towering trolls, alt. Silver Sword, Toss a coin)

Wicked Wings and Fearsome Fangs (Words 2,548): On their way to fulfil a contract, Geralt and Cahir happen upon yet another monster. And upon you. First person POV or second person POV. (2. Fearsome Fangs, 3. Wicked wings, 4. Cruel claws, Wyvern, alt. Forked tongue)

You'd be wise to beware (Words 12,847): Geralt and Cahir go on a monster hunt together where they meet an old friend, Jaskier. Unfortunately, the hunt is not as easy as expected ... (1. Too many toes, Myriapod, Centipede, 3. Wicked wings)

The dark things that wait in that house (Words 7,714): After his almost fatal injury at Stygga Castle, Cahir has lost his memory. He lives at Kaer Morhen and has become a Witcher. On the way back to the Witcher keep after his first monster hunt alone, Cahir helps a woman in distress. But is she really who she appears to be? (16. Metamorphosis, 23. Smelly swamps, 24. Treacherous trap, 27. Duplicitous Doppler, Shapeshifting, alt. I hate Monsters)

Monster Friend 1 (Words 300): Regis is waiting in front of the Witcher Keep, but Vesemir is reluctant to let the monster inside the walls of Kaer Morhen. Can Geralt convince him? Triple-Drabble. (alt. Monster friend)

Not Yet - Monster Friend 2 (Words 1,405): Regis meets Cahir on the doorsteps to Kaer Morhen just before the rain starts pouring down. (alt. Monster friend)

Blue (Words 200): Geralt spots something in a meadow. Something that is impossible to exist. (3. Dragon, alt. Monster friend)

Dreaming of Unicorns: Fanart (18. Unicorn)

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Older works fitting the prompts:

5. Ghoul, alt. Growl, Run, Blood-curdling cry : Of Monsters and Moonshine

9. Something wicked in the water, Bubbles, 12. Puncture wound: And quietly lay the frozen lake

14. Scary scratching, alt. Hide: That Scratching

26. Grim Giants: The White Death

31. Cave creature / Barbegazi: Of cavern conversations and mountain monsters

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witchermonstermayhem · 1 year

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First third of May is over. At least two people have had fun creating some great fics and art for the Witcher Monster MAYhem Prompts so far. Anybody else out there feeling inspired? You can still post works for the prompts of days 1-10 too, no problem as long as you post in May (or the first few days of June). What about a nice monstery gif, for example? A monster drabble? You could even knit or crochet a little dragon or bake a cake decorated with eery eyes 👀

#witchermonstermayhem #witchermonstermayhem2023 #the witcher fanart #the witcher fanfiction #witcher prompts #the witcher netflix #the witcher novels #the witcher monsters #the witcher prompt event #the witcher games #the witcher #witcher fics #witcher event #witcher fanart #the witcher books

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ficsforfundota · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert (The Witcher) Additional Tags: banshee - Freeform, Classroom, Professor Lambert, Witcher Lambert - Freeform, Classses, sfw, Learning about creatures, Jaskier is still a bard, Witchers teach the mundane about these monsters, Monsters, Banshee class Series: Part 4 of Witcher Bingo, Part 23 of Witcher Flash Fic Entries Summary:

Witchers decided to teach classes to those who want to learn about monsters, Jaskier takes Lambert's class on Banshees

Bingo Fill - Banshee Also an entry for Witcher Flash Fic

#witcher flash fic #witcher bingo #save a witcher bingo #jaskier #lambert witcher #witcher fics

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dear-galileo · 2 years

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witcher drabbles

my collection of drabbles written for the @thepassifloradiscord drabble challenge!

all of the drabbles are exactly 100 words and are standalone stories. relationships and type of fic are listed at the top of the chapter

i wrote 14 in the 2 hours of the challenge, they have all been uploaded here!

my ao3 can be found here

there is a mix of geralt/jaskier and aiden/lambert in there, mostly gen fluff fics

#em posts #my fics #witcher fics #witcher drabbles #geraskier #geraskier fics

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sebdoeswords · 2 years

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After the harrowing experience in the previous chapter, Geralt and Regis seek out some respite and find comfort in each other.

#to pluck wild mountain thyme #geralt of rivia #emiel regis #geralt/regis #the witcher #witcher #witcher 3 #the witcher 3 #emiel regis rohellec terzieff-godefroy #geregis #regalt #regis/Geralt #regis x geralt #geralt x regis #wiedzmin #wiedźmin #witcher fics

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genolover · 2 years

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I'm getting kinda pissed off. So I'm looking for fic where jaskier is dead but like, he becomes a spirit and instead of haunting a specific place, he starts haunting geralt. Then it expands to the others of the wolf school and like he stops lambert from killing himself. Then it goes to other witchers and he purifies streams and it's a whole thing. But I can't fucking find it. I did get a lot of results for dead dove fics which is very much not what I wanted. Can someone please for the love of God help me?

#witcher #witcher fics #jaskier #geralt #please help #so many dead dove fics

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toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account · 10 months

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i just realized Radovid didn't just become the lover of a bard - he became the lover of one of the most famous bards of the Continent who is incredibly well known for his songs he writes based on his love and heartbreak brought on by A Guy He Loved Who Broke His Heart. imagine you were a prince and your kingdom's spy network was like "hey there's this bard spy we're using for his ties to the Literal Two Most Important People to the Future of the Continent" and then you're like. that's fucking taylor swift.

#radovid is living the celebrity / y/n spy romance fic life. good for him #mine #jaskier #radovid #radskier #the witcher #witcher #the witcher s3 spoilers

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anya-chalotra · 1 year

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#it’s not a season of the witcher if jaskier isn’t getting threatened by a mage

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #rience #philippa eilhart #thewitcheredit #witcheredit #jaskieredit #useravia #userbecca #usersvenja #arthurpendragonns #ughmerlin #wrparallels #mine*#gifs*#jaskier getting accosted and/or threatened by a mage also accounts for probably half the witcher fics i've read #3k

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thedemonofcat · 27 days

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In every single version of their first meeting, be the books, Hexer, or Netflix series.

It's always. Jaskier shows up one day to Geralt and goes

“Congratulations, I’m your bard now.”

Geralt has no other option but to accept.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 days

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Winter's King 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: this one came out of no where.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands.

Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely.

A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach.

The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place.

You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within.

You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin.

“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes.

“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit.

“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.”

“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp.

“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.”

“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads.

There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’

“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!”

“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.”

You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching.

Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?”

You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.”

“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?”

Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.”

“I do not know, lady,” you answer.

“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.”

“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.”

Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.”

You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded.

The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies.

“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!”

The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings.

“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.”

“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--”

“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.”

“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--”

“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!”

“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries.

“Father, please, is it a husband?”

“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.”

“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.”

“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.”

The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa.

“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?”

“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.”

“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.”

“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.”

“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.”

“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.”

⚔️

Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner.

You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers.

The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment.

Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s.

“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt.

You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost?

The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow.

“One of ya,” he grits.

Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women.

The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate.

Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows.

The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance.

His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia.

You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top.

“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces.

The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it.

“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...”

“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--”

The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you.

“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.”

“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.”

The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight.

“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?”

Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor.

A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down.

You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt of rivia #dark!geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #winter's king #au #medieval au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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