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thewritersaddictions · 8 months

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Requests: The Witcher: Geralt of Rivia- Spellbound

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader & Ciri x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Pov: Geralt Of Rivia/ Ciri

Warnings: Mages, magic, fighting, Kaer Morhen, Angst, Fluff, memorial statues, death/revival, female witcher!Reader, falling back into love, happy family vibes.

Summary: The only female witcher is frozen in time at Kaer Morhen, but when Geralt brings Ciri there, something magical and extraordinary happens. Reuniting two past lovers.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers; this is a request.

WC- 2.4k

Requests Master List // The Witcher Master List // The Heros Master List

The first and last female witcher statue stands in the middle of Kaer Morhen. It’s a daily reminder of my failure to protect her and that I must try to be better for her sake. Vesmir had been a helping hand when I lost her. He was the only father figure I had, and I was more than grateful when he chose to have the stone figure of her placed in Kaer Morhen. It was a reminder of how little there were of Witchers like us, but also that love was forever.

It just stung too much, and I needed to leave Kaer Morhen. Spring was starting a new, and with that, paths and plans were already ready to be brought to action. I packed my little things and took Roach back on the dirty trails that were now not covered in inches of snow. Yet, this path led to a world I’d instead have never been a part of. A law of surprise that leads to a child. A child born to be the princess of Cintra.

Many more happened before I knew the law of surprise would put her and me on the same path. I’m more than surprised when it leads me straight to her. In an effort to firstly protect the princess and secondly help her because the duty has sadly fallen to me due to the war. I bring her to Kaer Morhen. I get her there to learn and to be supported by Vesmir; then again, I’m reminded of a promise that I must protect Ciri in every possible way, as I couldn’t do so for Y/n.

Y/n statue stares at me. Her frozen, hurt face, I can hear the echo of screams and how quickly they were cut off before I could make it to the fight. Her beauty hasn’t left her face. A smile that is in the back of my head, but her voice. That beautiful voice. The only thing that could lull me to sleep and keep my spirits high was fading ever so quickly in my mind. All I had left of her were the memories and the statue. Her dress flew in the wind as she was frozen head to toe.

It had been a mage, an unhappy mage, that had followed us to the mountainside. I remember it now being about me. The memorial was about many things. Y/n had been the only female witcher, so for one, it was a remembrance of that fact alone. Y/n had also said that if she ever died, in battle or at home, she would love to be able to gaze at the morning sunrise and sunset setting.

I hadn’t realized how long it had been until I arrived at Kear Morhen. Years had passed, and I had gained the child princess and a few friends in those years. Yet even with the people around me, there was still an ache in my chest, so looking at her frozen staring with that scared expression only caused the hurt to grow.

I introduced Ciri to everyone. Vesmir understood that this was a unique matter at hand. He helped me in any way I needed. I wake Ciri every morning before the morning rose above the mountain tops. “Come, let’s go practice.” At first, it was with swords and then with combat. And every day, Y/n watched us, unmoving and silent. Every day, like clockwork, Ciri would get distracted as she wandered off the battle arena and towards Y/n’s statue. “Who is this?” There was a tiny plaque at the bottom of her lonely statute—Y/n’s name written in a language known to only a few witchers, one of which was Y/n.

On the plaque, it reads:

Y/n, L/n

The First and Only Female Witcher

We miss you.

“Someone important,” I tell Ciri, and that’s where I leave it, but I feel I should know better. Ciri will go on an adventure to figure it out herself, regardless of what I want her to know about it. “Let’s return to practice before you get distracted even further,” I tell Ciri, and she follows me obediently, but there is something, and I can feel it as if Ciri is drawn to Y/n.

–

Geralt doesn’t talk much about his past, and I know he’s got secrets he’s unwilling to share with me right now. There is just something about that statute. I can’t read the plaque below it, yet I do not care. There is a beauty around her, so everyone had to go to bed to rest every night after I sneak out of the room and walk down to the statue.

I sneak out to talk to her. Unlike Geralt, she couldn’t give me a look of not understanding or dismissing me when he’d heard enough about my thoughts. I just want and need someone to understand me. I would walk out and talk to her for nights in a row. About anything and everything. How training was going, how much I missed my grandmother, the war, and the magic I felt pumping through my veins. Anything that scared me I talked to her about.

One night, I thought I got caught. I had snuck out after a late dinner. Geralt had said I needed to do more training than when we first arrived here, yet we had already been here for ages. His words and his calm demeanor pissed me off. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” I yelled at Geralt. I was standing up from the table. The chair slid and scratched the floor in the process. “I never said that,” Geralt said calmly. “Yet you never say I’m doing good; you just grunt and walk away. You don’t even talk to me about anything. Everything is a damn secret, I just want to understand, yet that was the most difficult thing here.” I screamed before stomping to my room, leaving half-uneaten food on my plate. The sound of echoing feet happened hours later, and when I peeked my head out of the room, there was nobody in the living space.

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t talk about things. I just want him to teach me and not just grunt at me and then tell me to repeat what I was just doing.” I fuss at the beautiful statue. She’s cleaned every day, and she almost looks real. If I just climbed up and touched her, she would come to life before me. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not cut out for this stuff,” I mumble as I look down at the ground before me. I must be too into my thoughts because I don’t hear when Vesmir comes behind me.

“I see you’re out here talking to our beautiful Y/n.” Vesmir said, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Vesmir.” I said, grabbing onto my chest and holding my fast-beating heart. “Wait, did you just say her name?” I asked, whipping around and asking Vesmir. He smiles down gently at me. “Of course, this is the only female witcher ever. She was the best of the best and a loving woman.” Vesmir adds before stepping further next to me. “I’m assuming from your reaction that Geralt hasn’t told you of the story about our dead Y/n.” I shake my head, “Hmm, I wonder, I must tell you now.”

“So the story goes as follows. Y/n, the only female witcher, was with Geralt. God, they were in love with each other. They thought a hell of a lot of monsters together, but of course, a love story must always have a villain to it. There was a mage, according to Geralt. That had not taken his various forms of saying no to heart. The mage had dragged Y/n into the fight that unfortunately put her in this frozen state.” Vesmir says, and as he continues to talk, he looks fondly at her.

“So Geralt and her were together; no wonder he’s so tightlipped about her. He wouldn’t even tell me her name.” I say sadly, looking back up at her. “She is beautiful.” I say in a low, sadden voice, “Y/n is beautiful, I bet she was a great listener.” I say I hear a chuckle from behind “I wish I could have met her.” I say out loud, clearly. My hand sits on the stone base of her boot. “I figure she would have loved to have met you. You are much like her Ciri.” Vesmir adds.

Just then there’s this moment of consuming silence. My hand still wrapped around her boot. “Ciri?” I hear Vesmir behind me. “What are you doing?” He asks, there’s shock in his voice, and a bit of terror. “I don’t… what are you talking about?” I ask looking up from the gravel beneath my feet.

Her statue is lite up with a light blue hue. “I wasn’t… I was just holding her foot that was all I promise you.” The blue hue grows with strength until finally it echos into the sky, streaming onto every single surface it can touch.

–

I can sleep here, regardless of the anger that Ciri is pushing towards me. I can only ever sleep here at Kaer Morhen. It brings the past memeoties to the brim of my mind. Y/n fliters through my thoughts. Her voice echoing through my head, the sound of her laugh, the spring scent that followed her around. She was nothing like a witcher, her emotions open and willing to be connected with someone else. I ache in the best and worst ways for her. Yet I don;t dare tell Ciri about her. I can see it now, if Y/n was around she’d just love Ciri. Y/n would be so happy to be acting like her mother. As much as Y/n understood that she was the only female witcher, she also wished to be normal. She wished that she could have kids. It was a sad conversation that the both of us had to have.

My eyes open with haste. A blue bright light pulling me from my dreams of my perfect family. There’s this searing blue light that is filtering through the walls of Kaer Morhen, and my thought flutter over to Ciri. I hope Ciri is alright. I jump up from the uncomfortable bed. I run through the halls, Ciri’s door is left open. Panic starts to set into my bones. I run around the others coming out of there rooms. The blue hue is fading away, and for a moment I swear I can hear Y/n’s voice. I push that away from my thoughts, as I frantly look for Ciri. I find that the front door is open wide, and when I look out there’s nothing but crumble stone all over the ground.

“Geralt?” I hear Vesmir say. I look up front he ground swallow hard, bearing for the worst. Instead it’s not the worst. “I need you to believe what I’m about to say.” He says steadily. “Vesmir what are you talking about?” “Just let me finish alright, Ciri has awoken Y/n.” I stand there, my heart beats and my jaw leaps down to the ground in shock. We had tried everything, spells, magic, ruins to fix her condition. “Geralt?” A sweet voice calls from the dust before it all clears.

There she is, standing in all of her glory. Grey hair that flows in the night wind. Y/n hasn’t aged a single day in the many years that she’s been frozen in her stone state. My hands shake my heart beats so fast I can hear it in my ears. I’ve never fetl a source of panic and relief all in one little moment. “Is that really you?” My voice is shattered and my heart feels as if it’s been broken and put back together all over again. “Oh my dear Geralt. I think you and I both know that it’s me.” Y/n says as her eyes flicker over tot heston slab we put her on, and then to Ciri. My eyes widden with shock. Y/n is most defintly not up there anymore, and the expression on Ciri’s face is easy to read. “Let’s take this inside, is that alright Vesmir?” Y/n asksher voice floating into my ears. It calms my racing heart.

The walk inside is odd, and perfect all at the same time. We all sit at the same table that Ciri had just recently yelled at me. “Who may this be, Geralt?” She asks me, and it pulls me away from just staring at her. I use to stare at her all the time. Her beauty was always hard to not get distracted by. “This is um… this is Ciri.” I introduce her to Y/n. Y/n smiles sweetly over at her. “It’s a pleasure to met the person who fixed my rather unforotunate situation.” I forget how eloquent Y/n spoke most of the time. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Ciri speaks for the first time. “I told Ciri about what happened. Maybe that has something to do with this miracle.” Vesmir says looking over at me. I want to be anger with him and Ciri but the soft, and gentle hand that settles on my arm brings me back to earth. I can’t dare to be mad at either of them.

“I think we should thank them Geralt. As for without their efforts I would not have come back to you.” Y/n says looking over at me. I nod simply. “Thank you for bringing her back to me, Ciri. I owe you a lot more now.” Ciri looks at me notching her head to the side. “Geralt you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to know moe about Y/n.” Ciri says look at he pair of us. “I would love to tell you more about me in the morning I’m rather tired.” Y/n says it like there’s nothing wrong with that fact. “Will you take me to bed, Geralt?” Y/n asks me, her grasps holding me tight. I shake my head not able to talk just yet. “I missed you.” Y/n says as we walk towards the room we used to share.

Completed on: 08/27/23

Posted on: 08/28/23

The Heros-

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 1 year

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Loves Me Knot

This is a fic I wrote for @witcher-bows-and-arrows... and then totally forgot to post for two weeks. So Happy Belated Valentine's Day, everyone! This is set in the same AU as Knot On My Watch and Sorry Knot Sorry.

Prompt: Mate

Rating: E

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Warnings: omegaverse, explicit sexual content

Word count: 5K

Summary: It’s been half a year since Jaskier last saw Geralt at the fateful banquet in Cintra—after which Jaskier made the mistake of asking Geralt to be his mate and Geralt ran away. So he’s taken off guard when Geralt bursts into his office in Oxenfurt and tells Jaskier that they need to mate right away to help him catch a katakan targeting omegas.

You can read it below or find it on AO3!

***

“This isn’t a bad composition, per say,” Jaskier tells the fidgety young man sitting across the desk from him, trying to keep his voice as gentle as he can. “It’s just very close to the last assignment you did for this class.”

“But you gave me top marks on that one, professor!” Piotr says, overwrought as only a first year getting his first less-than-stellar grade can be.

Jaskier sighs and reaches across the desk to pat the lad reassuringly on the hand. Teaching at Oxenfurt year-round, rather than just for the winter term, seemed like a good idea months ago. He thought it would give him time to rest, as well as providing him and Geralt with a bit of a much-needed break from each other after the disaster in Cintra. But he doesn’t have to deal with tearful first years on Path.

“Yes, I did,” he says. “Because it was a lovely song the first time you submitted it. But this was your final assignment of the term and it just isn’t—”

The door of Jaskier’s office bursts open, ricocheting off the wall. Piotr lets out a shriek of surprise, then shrieks again when Geralt comes striding in. Geralt looks distinctly worse for wear, Jaskier notices, his armor worn and his face pinched in that way it gets when he hasn’t been getting enough rest. He looks like he’s lost weight and Jaskier tamps down on that old urge to protect and provide, because Geralt made it pretty damn clear that wasn’t what he wanted from him.

“Professor!” Piotr squeals, holding up his composition like he thinks it will shield him from a witcher.

“Calm down, Piotr.” Jaskier rises to his feet, opening his mouth to ask Geralt what the fuck he’s doing here after all this time.

Geralt beats him to it. “Jaskier, I need you to mate with me.”

Piotr squeaks. Jaskier wonders if the fish pie he had for lunch was bad and is making him hallucinate. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Excuse me?” he finally asks when he finds his voice.

Geralt’s golden eyes have a slightly wild look to them. “I need you to mate with me,” he says again.

Jaskier stares at him for a long moment, then turns to Piotr. “Piotr, office hours are done for the day. Why don’t we chat tomorrow after class?”

Wide-eyed, Piotr rises to his feet, looking between Geralt and Jaskier. “Er, congratulations?”

“Good day, Piotr,” Jaskier says firmly, already anticipating the wild rumors that are sure to have spread by the end of the day. He watches as Piotr edges by Geralt, then says, “Hello, Geralt.”

Geralt steps inside, letting the door close behind him. “Will you do it?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest, scowling at his lover. Or his former lover? He’s not sure, to be honest. It’s not like Geralt officially ended their love affair, but he did tell Jaskier that he would never be his mate before leaving him alone in Cintra. “Classes have been going well and I forgot how beautiful Oxenfurt is in the spring. I would ask how you’re doing, but given that you look like shit, I already know the answer to that. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Ten days ago,” Geralt says. “There’s a katakan that’s been killing newly mated omegas. The only way to catch it is to make myself bait.”

Jaskier closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. Of course Geralt doesn’t want to mate with him because he loves him or wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Of course it’s just because of witcher business. “Come on, I’m not having this conversation while you look half dead on your feet, nor where any of my students or colleagues could walk by. Let’s go back to my lodgings.”

***

Geralt can’t stop watching Jaskier as the bard moves around the kitchen of his Oxenfurt townhouse, preparing a tray of crackers, salted meat, and cheese, even though Geralt has told him multiple times that he’s fine. Geralt has wiped himself down with the soap and basin of water Jaskier brought him and changed out of his armor. He should feel relaxed, but the knot of tension hasn’t left his shoulders.

Jaskier looks just like he did when they parted ways in Cintra six months ago. He smells the same, moves the same, talks the same. But there’s a distance there that wasn’t there before. He holds himself a little differently, like he’s bracing himself. Geralt doesn’t like it, even though he knows that there’s no one to blame for the distance but himself.

Walking away from Jaskier in Cintra before the foolish alpha bound himself for life to Geralt out of obligation seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But now here Geralt is, asking Jaskier to bind himself for life anyway, because Geralt will always want more than he should when it comes to Jaskier.

“Here you go.” Jaskier puts the plate down in front of Geralt, as well as a mug of ale. “Eat.”

Geralt doesn’t actually remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t jerky or hardtack, so he takes a piece of cheese with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

Jaskier watches him eat for a moment, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He smells unhappy and Geralt hates it. “Why are you here, Geralt?”

Geralt finds he can’t look at him. “There’s a katakan in Denesle that’s killed a half dozen omegas, all within days of them being mated. I remember Vesemir telling me about something like this a few years back. If it’s the same katakan he told me about, she’s been popping up every two or three years for decades. She’ll spend a month or so killing every newly mated omega she can find, then she’ll vanish and pop up on the other side of the Continent years later. I need to find her and kill her before she disappears again.”

“And so you want to make yourself bait?”

“Too dangerous to use anyone else as bait.”

“Oh, of course.” Jaskier’s voice is heavy with sarcasm. “Your heat isn’t for months, Geralt.”

“Got a potion in Novigrad to induce heats.”

Jaskier’s lips pinch like he’s tasting something sour. “What happened to ‘witchers don’t take mates? Witchers spend their lives alone?’” He pitches his voice lower, like he always does when he’s imitating Geralt.

Geralt is hit with the sudden, vivid memory of Jaskier standing outside of the Cintran palace, looking up at Geralt with an uncertain smile.

“You don’t have to walk away from this,” Jaskier said at the time. “Look, it’s about time you made an honest alpha out of me. We can mate. We can be a family, us and your child of surprise. Hell, we can settle down in Cintra so she can still see Calanthe, Duny, and Pavetta. They have a university here, even if it’s no Oxenfurt. We can have a house with a garden and a stable for Roach. We can have a life together, Geralt, away from the Path.”

And Geralt told him no and rode away, because he wouldn’t stick Jaskier with his mistakes. Jaskier, who was always so careful not to knot any of his lovers except Geralt and who drank a tea to make himself less likely to father a child. Jaskier, who didn’t want to be a father any more than Geralt did. Jaskier, who had given up his whole life to walk the Path with Geralt. Geralt hadn’t intended to ask more of him, not until the katakan forced his hand.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you,” Geralt says stiffly. “But people are dying and more will die if I don’t stop this thing. Her last victim was killed on his wedding night. His new wife stepped outside to use the outhouse and came back to find her husband dead in their bed.”

He closes his eyes against the memory of the young alpha’s anguished face. He knows she’ll carry the guilt of not having been able to protect her omega for the rest of her life, even if there’s nothing she could have done.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, like he’s picking each word carefully. “Mating is for life.”

“I know. Like I said, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t the only thing I could think of.”

“You found the idea of becoming my mate so repellant six months ago that you left me alone in Cintra. Do you know how angry Calanthe was about the whole Law of Surprise thing? I had to talk my way out of ending up in the stocks. I’m pretty sure the only reason I didn’t was because Pavetta talked her mother out of it.”

“Fuck.” Geralt’s gaze flicks anxiously over Jaskier, but he doesn’t see any signs of injury.

Jaskier smiles tightly. “I’m fine, but I’m under orders to never return to Cintra and to tell you to do the same. I don’t think the Lioness of Cintra will be spreading the word about my triumphant performance at the wedding, I’m afraid to say.”

“I’m sorry.” Geralt knows it’s inadequate, but he doesn’t know what else he can say to make this right. He should never have come to Jaskier about this, he realizes. He has no right to ask his bard for something this big. Abruptly, he stands up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll find someone else.”

“Someone else?” Jaskier stares at him with the same incredulity as when Geralt appeared in his office. “Someone else to mate?”

Geralt nods. It won’t be easy to find an alpha willing to mate a witcher omega, but maybe he can find an alpha in Denesle willing to sacrifice themselves for the sake of more omegas’ lives. It’s not like he’ll make the poor fucker endure his company after the mating.

“No.” A growl enters Jaskier’s voice and Geralt goes still, some latent instinct snapping to attention. “You’re not just going to go out and offer your neck to the first knothead that comes along.”

Geralt swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “I told you, I need to mate someone if I’m going to lure the katakan out.”

“Then I’ll fucking do it.”

“But—”

“You say people are dying.” Jaskier sets his jaw stubbornly, in a way that reminds Geralt of the first time that the bard told him that he was coming with him and Geralt could try to leave him behind as many times as he wanted, but Jaskier would always catch up to him. “And if the choices are innocent omegas being slaughtered in their wedding beds, you finding some random alpha to mate you, or me giving you a mating bite, then it’s no choice at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt tells him.

Jaskier smiles tightly. “When do we leave for Denesle?”

***

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates being knotted in unfamiliar places. They’ve split his heats between the heat rooms at the Temple of Melitele and the lovely omega spas in Toussaint since that first unexpected heat in the middle of Velen. He can see the tension in his omega as Geralt paces around the room at the inn, already reeking of pre-heat. It’s a perfectly fine room, probably one of the nicer ones where they’ve stayed during their travels, with a comfy mattress, plenty of bedding for a nest, and a sturdy lock on the door.

“I don’t know why you’re fussing,” Jaskier finally tells Geralt, because the pacing is setting his nerves on edge. “The whole point is us not being safe here, right?”

Geralt turns to frown at him, looking a little hurt. “I want you safe. As soon as we’re mated, I’ll go take a walk and hope the katakan smells me.”

“Fucking and running, Geralt?” Jaskier asks with a levity he doesn’t feel. “You cad.”

That only makes Geralt’s frown deepen. “I told you—”

“I know, you wouldn’t be doing this if you had a choice.” Jaskier turns away so he doesn’t have to look at Geralt’s face. “You have made that abundantly clear, my dear. You don’t have to worry about me getting any romantic notions.”

“Why are you doing this then?”

“Because you need my help and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Jaskier says. “We’ve known each other for over a decade, Geralt. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

Geralt is quiet for a moment before he says, “Of course I know that.” He doesn’t say it like he thinks it’s a good thing.

“Then why do you keep not letting me?” Jaskier whirls on him.

Geralt looks away, jaw tight. “We should get started. This potion works fast. My heat will be over within the hour.”

It says a lot about Jaskier’s emotional state that he didn’t notice the sweet scent of Geralt’s pre-heat growing deeper and muskier, nor the flush to his skin or the sweat starting to dampen his brow. His cock, luckily, has taken notice; it’s already half-hard in his breeches. He supposes for this to work, only his knot has to be in the mood for what comes next.

“Alright,” he says, trying to sound at least a little enthusiastic, and closes the distance between them. Without preamble, he takes Geralt’s face in his hands and kisses him. Geralt stiffens, like he wasn’t expecting to be kissed, before relaxing into the touch. His skin is hot to the touch. This, at least, is familiar. Jaskier tries to focus on the warmth of Geralt’s skin against his, the scent of his growing heat, the taste of his mouth. He tries to let his mind go blank.

And then Geralt pulls back. “Stop.” His voice rings with the note of tension it normally only carries when he’s spotted a danger in the woods.

Jaskier jerks away as if he’s been slapped, blinking in confusion. “What’s wrong?” He looks around, half-expecting to find the katakan lurking in the corner, but there’s nowhere for a giant bat to lurk in the tiny room.

Geralt shakes his head, taking another step back. “I can’t do this to you. I’m sorry. I never should have come to you.”

“Do what to me?”

“I’ll find another way to get the katakan.” Geralt is still moving backwards, like Jaskier is a beast who may lunge. “There has to be a better way.”

Jaskier lets out a laugh that sounds hysterical to his own ears. “Is the idea of being my mate so repulsive that you’d rather let people die?”

Geralt mutters something that Jaskier doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Jaskier advances on him, because he worries that if he’s not standing between Geralt and the door, the witcher will slip off into the night, never to be seen again.

“I can’t sacrifice your well-being,” Geralt grits out. “I won’t. You matter too much.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, a furious reply on the tip of his tongue, before Geralt’s words catch up to him. “What do you mean, my well-being?”

Geralt looks at him like he can’t believe how obtuse Jaskier is being. “In Cintra, you were ready to tie yourself to me for life because I’d made a dumbass mistake. I couldn’t let you give up your life for me.”

Jaskier stares at him. “Geralt, do you think I only asked you to be my mate because of the child of surprise?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No!” Jaskier throws up his hands in exasperation. “I asked you to be my mate because I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen years old and there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

“You said you wanted to settle down,” Geralt says. “I know you. You love life on the road. You really want to spend the rest of your life in Cintra?”

“Well, that ship has sailed, as if either of us ever return to Cintra, our lives are forfeit,” Jaskier says. “But yes, if it meant you having a relationship with your child of surprise, I was willing to settle down. But we can be mates without having a cottage somewhere. I’ll be your mate anywhere on the Continent. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Because you never brought it up before Cintra.”

“Because I didn’t think you’d say yes before Cintra.” Jaskier closes his eyes. “I was going to ask anyway. I’d been working up my nerve to ask for the better part of a year. But I was afraid that if I asked, you would panic and run away. I should have listened to my instincts, huh?”

A too-warm hand cups his cheek. “Mating bites are forever, Jask. There’s no spell or potion that can undo that kind of bond.”

“Melitele tits, really? I had no clue.” Jaskier doesn’t have the energy to summon up some proper sarcasm.

“You’ll be stuck with me. Forever.” Geralt sounds pained. “You’re still young. If you ever want a proper omega—”

“Love, you’ve ruined me for all other omegas. I don’t know if I’d know what to do with a proper one.” Thinking of being mated to one of the painfully proper omegas his family has tried to foist on him, Jaskier shudders. He can’t see one of them manhandling him into place to take what they want from him or rolling him over to fuck him as soon as his knot goes down.

Geralt makes a pained noise and Jaskier opens his eyes to look into those honey gold eyes.

“Geralt, I meant every word of what I said in Cintra,” Jaskier says. “I want to be with you. Mated or not, settled down somewhere or on the Path. There’s no one else for me. I don’t think there ever will be. I want us to be a family. And maybe someday, your child of surprise will be part of that family.”

Geralt grimaces and Jaskier surmises that’s a conversation for another time.

“I don’t think of you as something I’m going to be saddled with,” Jaskier continues, lips quirking. “If anything, it’s the other way around. Think of all the songs I’m going to have to write about you if we mate. They will be horrifically sentimental, so I hope you’re prepared for that.”

Finally, the tension in Geralt’s face softens in a smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jaskier leans his forehead against Geralt’s. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Hm.” Geralt breathes in deeply. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone in Cintra. I just—”

“Panicked?”

“Hm.”

Jaskier swallows back the thickness in his throat. “I could have picked a better time to bring it up. Emotions were already running high.”

“You are a bard,” Geralt says tiredly.

“You’re right. Can’t help but be dramatic, can I?”

Instead of answering, Geralt pulls him close. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“Then mate me, Jask.” Geralt’s gaze is piercing, his eyes seeming to bore right into Jaskier’s.

Jaskier smiles at him. “Okay.”

***

This time, when Geralt kisses Jaskier, it’s the easiest thing in the world, as familiar as if the past year never happened. Jaskier smells so godsdamned good, like the subtle, floral cologne he favors, mixed with arousal and the musky scent of alpha that has slick coating Geralt’s thighs and his prick throbbing in his smalls. Geralt pushes him backwards until Jaskier falls back into their nest with a surprised laugh against his lips.

“Darling,” Jaskier says as Geralt crawls on top of him and kisses his way down his neck. “I think I’m supposed to be the one ravishing you. You’re the one in heat.”

Geralt growls and nips at the soft spot under Jaskier’s ear, eliciting a shudder from the alpha. He doesn’t care about who’s supposed to ravish who; he just wants Jaskeir naked and writhing with pleasure under him. He slides his hand under Jaskier’s doublet, fingers trailing over smooth, warm skin.

“Tear it,” Jaskier rasps.

Geralt arches an eyebrow. “You sure?” After the first time he popped a button off one of Jaskier’s doublets during foreplay, he learned to take care with his bard’s clothing.

“This cut is out of fashion anyway.” Jaskier’s eyes are dark with desire. “Tear it.”

Geralt doesn’t need to be told a third time; he crushes the buttery soft silk in his hands and wrenches, tearing the doublet and shirt underneath apart to expose Jaskier’s hairy chest. He takes one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak, reveling in the way Jaskier’s body arches under him. Just to be a bastard, he grinds his his hips down against the length of Jaskier’s erection.

Jaskier lets out a delicious whimper. “Geralt,” he hisses. “If you want me to make it inside you before I pop a knot—”

Geralt growls at the thought of not getting Jaskier’s knot tonight.

“That’s what I thought.” With a breathless laugh, Jaskier tugs at the waistband of Geralt’s pants. “Off.”

Geralt takes as little care getting his own clothes and Jaskier’s breeches off as he did with the doublet. When they’re both naked, skin pressed against skin, he presses a long, languid kiss to his bard’s mouth. He’d like to take his time here and reacquaint himself with every inch of Jaskier’s body, but there’s only so much time before his witcher mutagens burn through the potion and this false heat ends. So he pulls away from Jaskier’s lips and lines his hips up with Jaskier’s.

Jaskier lets out a noise that’s half-gasp, half-groan as Geralt sinks down on his cock without any effort; it feels like his body has been waiting for this for a year. Jaskier feels perfect inside of him and under him. His hands roam over Geralt’s body like he can’t get enough of him, like he’s as eager to reacquaint himself with Geralt’s body as Geralt is to touch every inch of him. As Geralt begins to roll his hips, Jaskier surges up to capture one of Geralt’s nipples in his mouth, his mouth hot and slick. Geralt throws his head back and rolls his hips harder, driving Jaskier’s cock deeper into him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispers against Geralt’s chest. “You feel perfect, Geralt. And oh gods, you smell so good.”

Before Geralt can formulate a response, that perfect mouth sucks his nipple back into his mouth and all attempts at intelligent conversation are lost. When one of Jaskier’s hands wrap around Geralt’s aching cock, jerking him in time to the thrust of their hips, it only takes a few strokes for Geralt to come. Jaskier moans against his chest, the thrust of his hips growing erratic. Geralt feels the slight stretch of Jaskier’s knot starting to fill.

Jaskier’s eyes meet Geralt’s and there’s a question there.

“Do it,” Geralt says hoarsely.

Jaskier doesn’t need to be told twice. His thighs shudder with his orgasm, knot swelling inside Geralt, as he buries his teeth in the scent gland, right in the place where Geralt’s neck meets his shoulder. Pleasure-pain explodes inside Geralt as a second orgasm hits him like a wall. It’s too soon, even for an omega in heat, overwhelming in its intensity. Jaskier peppers the bite mark with kisses, laving his tongue over the crescent of teeth marks.

“Oh, love,” he whispers. “Oh, Geralt.”

Geralt closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the curve of Jaskier’s neck. He can feel the grip of the false heat lessening; the potion’s effects are lessening even quicker than he expected.

“Bite me,” Jaskier says.

Geralt looks up at him. “What?”

He told Jaskier once that it used to be common for alphas, omegas, and even betas to have mating bites. Even his mother, an alpha, had a mating bite on her neck, though the omega who gave it to her was long gone. But that was near a century ago and it’s fallen out of fashion for anyone but omegas to have mating bites. He’s surprised that Jaskier even remembers that conversation; it had to be at least five years ago.

“Bite me.” Jaskier’s eyes are hazy with pleasure and soft with affection. “I want everyone who looks at us to know that I’m yours as much as you’re mine. I want them to know that we belong together. I want—”

Geralt sinks his teeth into the soft, musky-scented place where Jaskier’s neck meets his shoulder. Jaskier lets out a gasping little cry, the knot inside Geralt throbbing. Geralt nuzzles at the bite mark apologetically.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Bit too hard.”

“No.” Jaskier reaches up to touch the bite mark, smiling drowsily. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Geralt wraps his alpha—his mate—up in his arms and holds him close, breathing in the mingled scents of them. Soon, there will be a katakan to kill. He’ll have to leave the warmth of Jaskier’s arms and go to kill a monster. But he’s not going anywhere with Jaskier knotted inside him, so he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy his lover’s embrace.

***

Jaskier never likes watching Geralt armor up to go fight a dangerous beast—well, he likes the armor part, the dangerous beast part less—but it’s far worse when Geralt left with Jaskier’s mating bite is still healing on his neck and reeking of heat, sex, and Jaskier. Every instinct in Jaskier wants to go find his omega and drag him back to their nest, where he can keep him bundled safely, far away from anything that might hurt him.

Jaskier paces the length of the room, his entire body humming with tension. There’s a long night of waiting ahead of him; Geralt hasn’t even been gone an hour and a katakan hunt isn’t going to be a quick, easy kill. He should try to sleep, or at least maybe get some grading done—he brought a stack of student compositions with him for just this purpose. But he can’t make himself stay still for more than a minute or two.

When the door of their room opens, Jaskier whirls around, hand twitching on instinct towards the knife Geralt left with. But it’s Geralt standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking as unruffled as if he just stepped out to grab a bite to eat.

“You’re back!” Jaskier launches himself at his witcher.

Geralt catches him around the waist, pressing a kiss to the healing mating bite on his neck. “I was motivated to get back quickly.” He kisses Jaskier’s jaw. “Anyway, she wasn’t expecting me to fight back. She didn’t think much of omegas, witcher or no.”

“Is she dead?”

“Very. Corpse is downstairs with Roach.”

“What did poor Roach ever do to you?”

“She’ll bite anyone who tries to steal the body and claim the reward before I go see the alderman in the morning.”

“She is convenient like that.”

Geralt hums in agreement, nuzzling at the sensitive spot under Jaskier’s ear.

“Are you hurt?” Jaskier murmurs.

“No.”

“Actually not hurt, or do you just not want me to fuss?”

“Actually not hurt.”

“Good.” He’s hardly covered in any viscera, so Jaskier tugs him back towards the nest. Geralt comes willingly, shucking his armor off as he goes. Once he’s divested of his armor, he collapses into the nest next to Jaskier, curling around him. Jaskier snuggles into his arms, tracing his finger over the crescent-shaped bite mark on Geralt’s neck.It’s already healing into a scar; Jaskier might have to mark him again to make it stick. The thought sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“I was thinking we could stay here another night or two,” he says softly. “Then we can go back to Oxenfurt so I can finish up the term. I don’t have much to do besides teach a few classes, grade some finals, comfort some crying first years. So there will be plenty of time for us to laze around in bed.”

Geralt hums in an agreeable sort of way.

“And then maybe we could head south to Toussaint?” Jaskier asks. “I think we deserve a proper honeymoon, don’t you?”

“Not sure if you and I know how to do anything the proper way.”

“Then we deserve a deliciously improper honeymoon.” Jaskier leers.

Geralt snorts. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Jaskier melts into his arms, surrounded by the mingled scents of them. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Geralt says, pressing another kiss to the mating bite on Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier is quiet for a moment, letting them both bask in their togetherness. But he’s never been one to bask in silence, so he says, “You know, it’s the latest fashion in Oxenfurt for mated couples to go about in matching outfits.”

“Is it now?”

“It is.”

“Guess we should get you some armor then. Sure I can find a zeugl in the sewers to dirty it up.”

Jaskier gasps in horror. “I think not. I was thinking you’d look dashing in a nice periwinkle blue, or maybe lavender.”

“No.”

“You’re right. Lavender is too cool for your skin tone. You need a warmer shade. Maybe plum.”

“No.”

“But Geralt, we’re mates! How will people know that we’re bonded for life?”

“Mating bites on our neck might give it away.”

Jaskier sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’m consigned to a life of being hopelessly unfashionable. I’ll be the laughing stock of the bardic circuit.”

“What else is new?”

“You!” Jaskier pokes him in the chest. “We’re supposed to be basking in the joy of our union, you—”

Geralt grabs him around the waist and flips him over. Jaskier doesn’t even realize what’s happened before Geralt is kissing him, his lips curved into a smile against Jaskier’s.

Jaskier lets himself be distracted, reaching up to trace a finger over Geralt’s mating bite. After all, he has all the time in the world to talk his mate into matching outfits.

***

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving kudos and/or comments over on AO3.

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #omegaverse #knot on your life verse #ghost's writing #ghost's fic #witcher bows and arrows 2023

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mothpiercings · 2 years

Text

i wrote this while on vacation then forgot about it for a week anyway

jaskier travels to future modern day where geralt is like 800 years old

after the dragon hunt geralt and jaskier part ways

geralt didn’t mean anything he said ofc, he was just angry and frustrated and he took it out on the one person he could always count on

but his stupid pride won’t let him apologize

even though he feels sorry as soon as the words leave his mouth

he watches jaskier walk away, and knows that he has to give his the bard some time

three years is a lot of time to give but geralt can’t find him

he has literally looked everywhere

oxenfurt, lettenhove, pasoda, hell even cintra (which he vowed to never go back to, but he needs to find jaskier)

the bard is nowhere

five more years pass

geralt still looks for him everywhere

every time there’s a bard with bushy brown hair or blue eyes or a lute with flowers on it, he’s reminded of jaskier and is filled with hope for one quick second

but it’s never jaskier

he hears it in a pub

it’s a no name pub he’s never been to, one he just stopped in after a hunt

and he hears it

the bard in the corner, talking to some patrons, acting as if it’s just casual conversation

“yes, yes, the great bard Jaskier, meletele bless his soul, wrote many ballads in his day, and had he not fallen to horrid fate, we might have more. but alas, we make do.” and he finished with a laugh.

a laugh

geralt storms out of the pub, probably scaring the few townspeople sober enough to notice

he takes on contracts that he knows are too dangerous for him

he goes to kaer morehn every winter and drinks himself near death

the others are worried for him, but bringing it up leads to geralt locking himself in his room for weeks

they don’t talk about it

he isn’t sober for more than a few hours at time for a decade

eventually geralt finds his child surprise

and he knows that he can’t keep this up AND be a decent father figure

he and yennifer sort things out and she helps him sober up

blah blah blah season two happens mainly as it did in netflix cannon except without jaskier

a few hundred years pass

everyone’s alive (all the witchers, yennifer, ciri, magic is the answer to everything)

it feels like forever

geralt never stops thinking about jaskier

everytime music changes or a new instrument is invented, all geralt can think about is how jaskier would respond

he cries the day he found out ab recording

all he can think about is how he would never get to hear jaskier immortalized like this

jaskier would never be remembered

that thought makes him cry harder

it takes yennifer and ciri a week to pull him out of his drunken depressive episode

geralt has settled in pretty well though

he’s generally good at adapting to change (even though the fact that his dog is named roach says otherwise)

he has a job that he mostly enjoys (he’s a park ranger. it’s the most fun he’s ever had and he loves it so much. if anyone ever found out he would kill them and then himself)

he and his family try to get together at least once a month

they got closer after they stopped having to kill to survive

when they finally got to a point where they could just be

they almost always go over to vesemirs (because despite what they say, he’s their dad)

it’s at one of these dinners, as everyone’s saying their goodbyes, a loud crack and swear is heard from the backyard

it’s a swear they haven’t heard in a long time

centuries maybe

then more swearing

geralt pauses and listens to the voice that he knows is dead

this is a nasty trick

the other witcher’s know that something’s wrong as soon as they see geralt’s expression change

they got rid of their swords a long time ago (it was the 70s after someone lambert tried to take them to a festival and almost killed someone. now they stay in the attic)

but they all carry daggers ofc

they grab their weapons and slowly stalk towards the yard

where the voice is still ranting and cursing

still in a language long dead

they open the door

geralt doesn’t belive it

“where the fuck am i, geralt” the bards voice is just like it was that day on the mountain

chapter/story two

none of them move for a beat

they can hear the man’s (jaskiers?) heart beating so fast it could come out of his chest

he doesn’t seem like a fake (dopplers went extinct a few centuries ago anyway)

if this was an imposter, they were too good at it

“jaskier” has the same scent he always has (wild flowers and a field after rain)

jaskier looks at the witchers, all big and scary and totally pointing their daggers at him

he can assume the other men are geralts brothers

though they don’t have a madellian, they each have a large ring with a wolf engraved

don’t ask jaskier how he noticed this

he doesn’t know

geralt stalks closer to the man (the man who was dead for almost 1000 years, the man who shouldn’t be here right now)

he hears a light growl from behind him and eskel lightly gripping his arm

but he has to do this, so he shakes the hand off and continues forward

with each step that geralt takes, jaskier smells… calmer

this confuses geralt, because even though they had been… friends for a long time, they parted ways on awful terms

in a language he hasn’t heard in such a long time, jaskier begins to speak

“geralt…” he repeats, “where the fuck am i?”

it takes a moment for geralt to process, and not just because he barely remembers the language

but the man’s voice sounds so much like jaskiers

and jaskier looks not a hair out of place

he looks. like he was simply plucked out of thin air in 12xx and deposited in 2022

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thelostgirl21 · 8 months

Text

So, apparently, there's an actual short story called "A Little Sacrifice" where a Prince falls in love with a real mermaid in The Witcher's universe...

And Netflix is supposed to release an anime called "Sirens of the Deep", where Geralt and Jaskier get involved in the situation.

My question is: will this be happening before or after the events of Season 3?!

Because having a freaking Prince (Radovid) hearing Jaskier's songs, finding them "irresistible", and becoming heavily drawn to him as a result gives off crazy strong Prince/Siren vibes.

And metaphorically speaking, the whole song follows their story arc in Season 3 right down to the "twilit red horizon" (Redania's color is red, so is obviously blood and its association with death and murder...) and the Prince sadly immediately "sinking to darkest night" on his very first attempt to swim.

So, if Jaskier and Geralt had already met a mermaid and a Prince that had fallen in love with each other before the events of Season 3, and Jaskier had already written a whole ballad about it (that Ciri ended up learning) before he met Radovid, I'm thinking his own situation would have felt like such an insanely strong case of déjà vu!

[Note: In the short story, it's the Siren that swaps fin for foot, not the Prince. If the song is about "Sirens of the Deep", this means that either the ending of the short story has been changed...

... or something bad happened as a result of the mermaid's choice, and Jaskier decided to give them a different ending where the Prince attempts to become a mermaid, but finds himself sinking and needing the Siren's help (to embrace him and the choice he made, regardless of its consequences)?]

Otherwise, that means Jaskier composed that ballad with Radovid in mind in Season 3.

And then, on his travels with Geralt, winds up meeting an actual mermaid that fell in love with a freaking Prince - essentially facing the same dilemma he's been going through with Radovid - and probably would be going "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! Is the world trying to fucking tell me something?! Unbelievable!"

I can already imagine the conversations...

Sh'eenaz: You couldn't possibly understand what it's like to -

Jaskier: Save it! I wrote a fucking song about it! And you know what? It was a pretty good one, too! Filled with plenty of symbolism and poetry... But you two just had to show up and turn it into a literal thing, didn't you? Now, each time people will be singing my song, they'll just believe it's all about Prince Aglobal -

Sh'eenaz: Agloval

Jaskier: Whatever! And forget I had already seduced a Prince with my songs, and been offered to go live with him in a castle before you two even met! Oh! And by the way, my Prince is now the King of Redania - the most powerful nation of the Northern Kingdoms - the only one that might be able to stop the Nilfgaardians! He's way more important than -

Sh'eenaz: So, did you accept?

Jaskier: Accept what?

Sh'eenaz: To give up the life you had before to be with him?

Jaskier: *Forgets all about his rant and lets out a heavy sigh.*. It's complicated... *Hesitates* I think I might have? Especially if Ciri had decided she wanted to go to Redania to unite it with Cintra, and become the Queen she'd always dreamed of becoming... But then, Ciri went missing, the Second War began, he actually did offer to come with me instead, but then his brother was brutally murdered and he was crowned King instead...

Sh'eenaz: So, he was willing to sacrifice his world for you?

Jaskier: I guess... I mean, I think he meant it...

Sh'eenaz: Well, at least you two breathe the same air, and you can both walk... And Geralt's mate, from what I've heard, is a powerful sorceress that knows how to create portals. It's not like you can't quickly travel between your two worlds when you miss your family, thanks to her, and he can't accompany you on those visits at times, too...

Jaskier: ...

Sh'eenaz: ...

Jaskier: Yeah, I think your Prince should definitely follow you at sea. Humans are idiots.

Sh'eenaz: Well, if he does, maybe you could write a ballad about us; make it one where a Prince falls in love with a dashing travelling bard, then chooses to renounce his throne to accompany him on his travels?

Jaskier: Yeah, you wait right here in your *motions at the bay surrounding them* little pond; I'll go see your Prince and either convince him to come here and join you, or grab and throw him right into the sea myself! After that, I've got a King to catch...

#Radovid #Jaskier #Radskier #The Witcher #The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep #A Little Sacrifice #Princes can't resist a good song apparently!#They're all freaking drawn to Sirens...#Jaskier and his innate competitiveness #Freaking mermaid attempting to upstage him...#As if luring Princes at sea with the power of your songs was hard!#Been there done that wrote a ballad...#My posts #My thoughts

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seidenbros · 2 years

Note

Congratulations on 1k, my friend!! You deserve it. For the celebration prompts, perhaps Geraskier + a kitten? 💚

Thaaaank you Wren

You can always get me with kittens, and I think this turned out a little sillier than expected, but here we go 💚

-----

“Ohhh, who are you?” Jaskier couldn’t help but smile as he crouched down. They were taking a short break by a stream to fill up on fresh water before they continued to Cintra. Or rather Geralt took care of the water while Jaskier felt something rub along his leg. A tiny black cat had come up to him demanding attention.

“Are you hungry, little one.” He reached out his hands, rubbing the cat’s ears, between her eyes. The purring he received in turn was all the reward he needed.

“Come on,” he cooed, carefully lifted the little thing up to carry her over to where Roach was waiting for them. He reached into a bag and got something out that he held out to the kitten. Oh yes, she really was hungry.

“Aren’t you a little sunshine?” Jaskier’s smile widened, before he dropped down on the floor and sat cross legged, the kitten between his legs, getting comfortable there. She was soaking up the sun and Jaskier did the same. At least until Geralt came back, a scowl adorning his face.

“What did you pick up?”

“That’s sunshine!” Jaskier looked up at the witcher, a big grin on his face. “She came up to me and was hungry, so I fed her.”

“Jaskier, you can’t keep feeding every lost animal you find. This is ridiculous.” This was so typically Jaskier, that Geralt could only sigh. Wherever they went, he found some hurt or lonely animal and wanted to help. It was… cute in a way, but it could get out of hand, if Geralt didn’t watch out.

“But just look at her!” He held out the little kitten with eyes bigger than her whole head as it seemed, up to Geralt, and she meowed.

“Jaskier…” Geralt gritted his teeth. Damn it, Jaskier knew that this worked, that Geralt couldn’t say no, when he was faced with such big eyes that looked up at him all helpless. “How do you even know that it’s a she?”

“Just look at her!”

“Of course…” Geralt knew better than to argue with Jaskier about this, just accept it as a fact, and keep his mouth shut if they found out in the end, that it was in fact a he. It didn’t matter in the end anyway.

“So, can we keep her? Pleeeaaaase?” Jaskier cuddled the kitten close, looked up at Geralt with the same expression, Sunshine wore on her face.

“Fine.” An exasperated sigh left Geralt’s lips as he got ready to move on. He didn’t look at Jaskier, didn’t want to see that triumphant grin on his lips. If he didn’t love that idiot so much, Geralt would have left here without him, but… he couldn’t live without the bard anymore.

“But you’re carrying her, you’re taking care of her. She's your responsibility, not mine.”

“Okay!” Jaskier got up and leaned in to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek, before they got on their way again.

“Yeah… he’s a bit of a grump, but he has a huge heart… he just doesn’t want anyone to know.” Jaskier spoke in hushed tones to the kitten, carrying her in his arms, but Geralt still heard him. He simply shook his head and let Jaskier babble on. The longer Jaskier talked to the kitten, told her about the adventures they’d had, the more Geralt had to try and hide his smile, because it was adorable to watch Jaskier.

Once they reached their destination, though, Jaskier had to leave the kitten outside with Roach, because she wasn’t allowed in the inn.

“She’ll be fine. She’s been fine without you so far, okay? She’ll stay with Roach.” And if she didn’t, if she ran away, then that was also okay, because so far, she’d grown up in the wilderness.

When Jaskier was asleep that night, though, Geralt snuck out and walked to the stables where Roach was staying, because he had to make sure that Sunshine was alright. And there she was, sleeping on top of Roach, rolled up into a tiny ball of fur, shivering slightly. Geralt reached for one of the smaller blankets and draped it over the kitten. She opened her eyes only for a second, before she closed them again. The shivering stopped and Geralt smiled. Yeah… he knew that he’d never get rid of this kitten, just like he’d never get rid of Jaskier. Because he didn’t want to get rid of them.

#seidenbros follower celebration #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #staffi writes #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher drabble #geraskier imagine #geraskier drabble

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khaleesidracarys · 8 months

Text

HELLFURY : Chapter 1

Cahir knelt with his head bowed to the polished marble floor. He never really liked the castle, mainly because he heard his footsteps wherever he went and it drove him insane. He hated the constant chatter and the never-ending squawking of the seagulls near the coast. He hated it so much he was pleased to leave, he had been so unbelievably content leaving Cintra behind to hunt the little Princess. He had been chasing her through most of the continent, desperate to finally bring her home to her rightful place by her father's side.

When Tissaia de Vries entered his head a year ago, all he thought about was the polished marble floors, how they shone when droplets of blood ran in streams from wounded bodies. He thought about how the blood dampened the sound of his footfalls when he made his way through the castle searching for the Princess. Back then he had found himself longing for Cintra. He would do whatever it took to get back to the dreaded castle, he would do anything to return to the White Flame. He had not expected a warm welcome at all, he had expected to be put to death the moment he walked through the gates, but the Emperor had not yet arrived.

Cahir had breathed easier back then, knowing that Fringilla kept the order, that the elves were streaming in daily and that the elf queen would finally rally her forces and join the White Flame in the battle for the continent. He, who would save the world from the White Frost. Cahir had the utmost respect for the Emperor, and he had thought himself to be more than a pawn. He had been a Commander General, he had had power, position and a purpose- 'Cahir!' Cahir lifted his head to meet the harsh eyes of Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. The Emperor extended a hand and bid him rise. 'Yes, my Lord?' Cahir kept his eyes firmly placed on the Emperor's neck. The last time he had kept eye contact he had ended up on the outskirts of Cintra, digging graves and spending his nights tending to reeking corpses. Even Gallatin knew he'd fucked up. Cahir had betrayed his Emperor, he had failed to do the one thing that was expected of him and he had paid for it. Dearly. 'Know that it gave me no pleasure to punish you for your mistakes,' the Emperor began, and Cahir almost believed him. 'However, I have need of you now.' Cahir looked at him then, trying to keep his shock concealed. He'd expected to be punished even more, not to be given an assignment so soon. 'An assignment my Lord?' He questioned and moved his eyes back to the Emperor's neck. The Emperor didn't answer, he just walked down from the dais where he had received him and began walking back and forth in front of the tall, stained-glass windows. The sun shining through them sent cascades of rippling lights washing over the marbled floors, and the Nilfgaardian emblem of the Great Sun was bathed in soft, shimmering light. 'There is a rogue mage,' he began, balling one hand into a fist and placing it behind his back. 'She has been slaughtering and burning scouts I've been sending to Temeria. I had finally managed to convince King Foltest to think about my proposal, but my scouts never returned. Later, I was told most of them ended up in shallow graves in Aedirn, burnt to death.' 'Did some of them reach Temeria, my Lord?' Cahir asked. 'One or two, they were wounded and died within days, as of now, King Foltest is more likely to continue to support Aretuza and the elves than to ally with Nilfgaard. I need you to deal with this mage. I need you to find her, kill her and bring me her head.' The Emperor said, staring out of the window down into the courtyard. 'Anything you need will be at your disposal. I would prefer you to go alone and use your considerable tracking skills better this time. Should you need men I will send them.' Cahir noticed the stress on the word and dropped his gaze. He had failed him. If he failed him again- 'Yes, my Lord.' Cahir said and bowed his head. He was about to turn when the Emperor's hand locked around his elbow. He turned to meet the disappointed, furious gaze. 'Do not fail me again. Come back without her head and I will take yours instead,' he said softly and let go of his arm. 'Yes, my Lord.'

People had threatened to take his head so many times over the past two years he no longer thought of it as a genuine threat. The mages had tried to decapitate him, the mage he'd fought at Sodden had thrown a sword at his face, Yennefer had threatened to acquaint his severed head with the ground if he betrayed her- Cahir steeled himself, straightened his back and walked out of the throne room. 'Cahir, you leave tonight.' The Emperor's voice rang after him, clanging off of the stone walls and reverberating through his head.

He'd expected more digging, fresh corpses or perhaps guard duty. He had not expected to be needed. Definitely not to hunt a mage, and a rogue one at that. Cahir walked down the levels of the castle until he reached the second to last. The Emperor had graciously provided him with quarters above the dungeons. He had spent three weeks getting used to the never ending screaming of the tortured prisoners below. He knew he was meant to be one of them. He had been one of them at Aretuza.

He was leaving tonight, he'd rather sleep in the woods than here. Everything would be provided for him.. If he was to search through the entirety of Aedirn heavy armor was out of the question, even with a horse. Leather would do. If the mage tried to burn him too he'd at least die quickly. He thought of Sodden Hill, the screams hadn't left him for months. The sounds of his men cooking inside their armor before they were reduced to nothing but ash- the smell of charred flesh and burning horses would never leave him. A year later the entire field was barren and refused to grow even a single straw. The poets called it 'the field of fury and fire', Cahir knew better. He called it what it was; slaughter. He'd lost more men that day than in his entire tenure as commander general. He supposed he still was one, his rank had not been taken from him, only his dignity and his sense of purpose. He would not fail this time.

He walked over to the worn desk by one of the grimy windows that provided the room with the scarcest light imaginable. He shuffled away parchments, quills and books until he stared at the map of the Continent. He placed a finger on Aedirn and hummed as he sank down in a cushioned chair and dragged a hand through his hair. If the mage was in Aedirn, which he couldn't be sure of when he thought about it, how could he be sure she hadn't fled into the mountains or crossed the Yaruga river and gone south, for all he knew she could be living lavishly in Toussaint.

If the Emperor had stopped sending soldiers to die she'd stop burning them. What was she even doing? Was she keeping them from entering Temeria? Was she working for Foltest or was she doing something completely different?

Cahir's finger followed the Yaruga west. If she only burnt whoever crossed the river it would eventually lead her to Cintra. If she burnt any Nilfgaardian regardless of reason, he was fucked. She'd be able to tell in a second. If he was to kill her he needed the upper hand, she needed to believe him long enough for him to get close to her. He needed a plan. The skies outside his window darkened, the sun sank lower on the horizon with each passing hour and he had still not figured out a plan. He went over everything he knew about mages over and over in his head. Bits and pieces of information he had pried from Fringilla and Yennefer. Fire magic consumed the wielder, it fed on rage and hate. Crackling away at any lingering piece of humanity. The one who tortured the bard had said as much. If his intended target was anything like him- Cahir shuddered. Yet, she only killed Nilfgaardians, as far as he knew. Either, she had been at Sodden and watched as Yennefer decimated his armies and continued her own little path of revenge to the east, or she was just a regular mage tired of invading soldiers and employed by the King of Temeria to further foil the Emperor's plans of conquest.

The latter was most likely he decided. The King of Temeria had the biggest reason to keep a rogue mage at his side, if he had decided against the Emperor's advances. Either way, he needed to get close to her, but first he needed to find her. Cahir stood from the chair, massaged his sore neck and folded the map. He kicked open the small chest by the foot of his bed and grabbed his weapons. It was time to hunt a mage, it was time for him to finally redeem himself, time to finally prove to the Emperor that he could be trusted, and that he wouldn't fail him again.

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach rode out through the Cintran gates as the night descended upon the Continent. He was clad in his training-leathers instead of the heavy bronze armor he usually preferred, his sword swung lazily at his side as he kicked his horse into a gallop. The road to Aedirn would take a few days, he had enough provisions until he got there, then he needed to spend coins if he needed more. The Emperor would send men if he needed them, he had said, but Cahir scoffed to himself. He was perfectly capable of dealing with a mage by himself. He had figured it out, he needed to leave his titles behind when he crossed the Aedirnian border. He needed to seem like any other wandering warrior if he found her, a bounty hunter perhaps? To raise her suspicions too soon would end his life. Whatever she was doing and whoever she was, she needed to trust him. Luckily for him, Aedirn and the neighboring Kingdoms were all crawling with monsters. He could pretend to hunt monsters for coins long enough for her to turn her back on him, if that didn't work he'd figure something else out.

Cahir rode past Hochebuz hours later. He could already smell the scorched fields of Sodden Hill despite being leagues away from the castle. The smell made his horse uneasy and when he cleared the hill his horse panicked. He clamped his legs hard into the stallions' sides and tried to keep him steady as they made their way through the browning fields, he kept the reins tight as he led the horse over charred bones and littered pieces of armor melted and twisted. It astounded him how far the fire had spread. This wasn't as bad as the Hill itself. The fields here were somewhat healthy, his horse nibbled at tiny blades of growing grass when he felt like it. Cahir knew that if the horse tired out so would he, there was no way in hell he'd walk all the way to Aedirn so he took his time. He realized when he neared Dol Angra that the fields weren't a battlefield at all, the fields were a graveyard. The rotting, burnt and mangled corpses of Nilfgaardian soldiers soiled the very earth.

He'd only seen the burning from afar. He had felt the heat and heard the screams, but he had left with his life. Only to be captured by the rectoress of Aretuza mere hours later. She was looking for Yennefer, he had understood that much. He kept his mouth shut and only screamed when she promised him deep, unending pain. He never said a thing-

Cahir was wrenched from his reminiscing when he finally saw the mountains overlooking the Yaruga, the sun was rising when his horse whinnied at the sight of the running water. Cahir just patted the black beast and slid from the saddle. He had wine, plenty of it in skins tucked into his bedroll. He assumed water would be better given the distance he still had to go. The Commander General had just bent down to drink beside his mount when an ear-splitting scream followed by a growl made him stop. He whipped his head toward the sound and saw a woman running for him, eyes filled with terror as three growling, reeking ghouls scurried out of the copse of trees and straight for him. Cahir unsheathed his sword and reached for the girl. She turned away from him the second she reached him and snapped her fingers. Cahir was bathed in light from the ball of fire flickering in her open palm. His eyes darkened and his fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. The mage..

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#the witcher #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #cahir fanfiction #enemies to lovers #its 30k words and thats alot #it has everything you want #fanfiction #archive of our own #cahir needs a break #read my fic #also on wattpad #also on ff.net #eamon farren #the witcher season 3 #the witcher netflix #twn #jaskier is protective

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moonlightpirate · 8 months

Text

Law of Destiny

Chapter 4: Love and Dreams

Time for Ilaria to start planning her trip to Aretuza. Will Radovid be able to talk her out of it? What will happen if he can't?

Tag list @wildyonderwillows @tastyfiddle @ceres27 @kenobion @chickensarentcheap

Sorry for the wait guys! And thank you for everyone who has helped me!

Ao3 here

Masterlist

Radovid searched all over the castle trying desperately to find Ilaria for hours. He knew he had to talk her out of this journey not just for her sake but for Jaskier's sake as well. His worrying was only made worse when his father stopped him to talk about various plans for revenge as if he had forgotten about Ilaria already. At long last a servant told Radovid that they had seen her in the library looking at maps in preparation for her journey.

"You've always called me the stupid one but honestly at this moment I am beyond convinced that it is you that is the stupid one. Going to Aretuza with those mages! You have gone crazy!" Radovid shouted as he stormed into the library.

Slowly Ilaria looked up at Radovid with a fire in her eyes, "Excuse me?".

"You heard me. You're stupid for going to Aretuza and risking it all for HIM!".

She shook her head, "Oh please that is rich coming from you. You can stop pretending as if you're actually worried about me. Would you just go beg Jaskier to stay because I know it is him that you actually want to stay here not me." Ilaria dismissed, going back to studying the map.

Radovid slowly approached the table, "I already tried. He's determined to help you. But why don't you think I care about you? This is a seriously dangerous journey. Why are you being so stupid and risking your life like this?"

Ilaria sighed, "It is truly hard to explain. I'm not trying to risk my life or Jaskiers. But he says he knows people there so trust that they will keep him safe if nothing else. Plus do you forget I also know people there. It has been years since I have seen them but I don't feel there is that much danger.".

"Emhyr cannot be worth all of this though can he?".

He waited for several minutes for her to answer his question, studying her face. Finally, out of frustration, he pulled the map out from under her so she would be forced to answer him.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, "You'll think I'm crazier than you already think I am.".

"I won't, I promise. Just tell me please." Radovid begged.

"Fine. I'm not sure what it is but I can't get Emhyr out of my head. I feel drawn to him. Even before he said one word to me I felt like I was being drawn to him. Now that I am away from him this feeling is even more intense. But I also have this awful feeling that if I don't return to him that he will do to our kingdom what he did to Cintra or maybe even worse. I’m also being drawn to Aretuza. I think it may be because I have this odd sense that I can get the answers I'm looking for there even if I can't find Dijkstra or Phillipa." Ilaria revealed.

Radovid watched her for a few minutes trying to read her face and see if what she said was true. Finally he sighed in defeat.

"Fine. Yes you're still stupid for going but I understand being drawn to someone. I feel that way with Jaskier. I just don't want to lose him. I didn't think he would even come here with me to begin with." Radovid replied, his voice beginning to tremble.

"If he won't stay here with you then come with us." Ilaria suggested, trying to cheer him up.

"I wish. Father already has made it clear he wants me to stay here. That he has plans for me. Something about how to avenge mother’s death I guess." .

"As if you always listen to him? But if he is planning revenge I guess I feel better knowing one of us is staying behind to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." She sighed.

Radovid chuckled, "Don't worry you're taking all the stupid with you.".

"Not possible. You're not coming with us." Ilaria stuck her tongue out. Radovid rolled his eyes as he handed her back her map. She took it from him and watched as he turned away from her and walked back into the castle. It worried her that their father was still planning revenge despite promising to wait until she came back from Aretuza. Nervously she ran her fingers through her hair as she looked back down at the map. The trip seemed like it would be a fairly straightforward trip if nothing happened; they could easily be there in two, maybe three days. Ilaria decided then that she and Jaskier would leave in the morning so no more time was wasted. She spent the rest of the day making sure she memorized which towns and their direction so she knew which way to travel and packing food and supplies for the journey.

That night Ilaria found Jaskier sauntering in the front door just after sunset.

"Ah perfect I was hoping to run into you before I went to bed. If you're still joining me I plan to leave tomorrow. Probably shortly after sunrise so we can make the next town before nightfall or just at nightfall. So I recommend getting some rest if you can and packing since it does not seem like you've been in the castle all day." Ilaria observed.

"Ah yes perfect I love early mornings." Jaskier groaned.

"Excellent, I'll make sure to have a wake up call sent to you then. Goodnight." Ilaria winked, heading up to her bedroom.

Jaskier sighed he was starving. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. So he opted to go looking for food first before he did anything else. Once he was done eating he made his way upstairs to begin packing for the journey.

"Figured you may want a proper bath before you leave me." A male voice said to Jaskier just as he was opening his bedroom door.

Jaskier looked around and saw Radovid smirking at him from his own doorway wearing just a robe. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair knowing he needed sleep and to pack properly before the journey but oh did a bath sound nice especially with him.

"Don't worry I've packed clothes for you. You can check them after you've bathed if you'd like." Radovid grinned.

"I suppose I could use one more bath before this journey." Jaskier sighed, making his way into the room.

Several hours later they laid in bed together staring up at the ceiling.

"Stay with me please Jaskier." Radovid pleaded.

"Radovid…..we've been over this. Also you said you wanted me to protect her.".

"I know. I just don't want to be left alone.".

Jaskier looked over at Radovid and saw some tears gently sliding down his cheeks.

"Come with us then." Jaksier suggested.

"I can't. There is so much to do here. Someone needs to stay." Radovid sighed.

"Then trust we won't be gone long dear and that I will come back." Jaskier leaned over and kissed him.

Radovid kissed him back "I will try dear. But you need rest. I know she wants you guys to leave early and it is very late.".

He held Jaskier close to him trying to hold back his tears as they both fell asleep.

Early the next morning Ilaria made sure one of the servants got Jaskier awake so that he could eat breakfast before they left. She could hear him making a fuss from the dining hall clearly upset at being awake so early. All his fussing and insults at the poor servant had woken Radovid up as well. They both came down the steps and sat down in front of her still yawning and rubbing sleep from their eyes. They ate breakfast quietly, the only noise coming from their silverware on the plates and the occasional yawn. Just as they finished eating, a servant nervously approached them and informed them that everything was ready for Ilaria and Jaskier's journey. Ilaria nodded and thanked the servant before they all slowly made their way out front where the horses were already waiting for them.

"Please be safe. I hope that you will be returning soon and in one piece." Radovid tried to smile even though he was clearly hurting.

"We will be safe, don't you worry. You behave yourself while we are gone though I don't want any mess to clean up when I get back." Ilaria teased.

"I'll try to behave, I make no promises though." Radovid hugged her, "Please do not tell Jaskier about Emhyr or Cintra, trust me he's not ready for that." he whispered, releasing her from the hug.

She looked at her brother and nodded.

Radovid then turned to Jaskier.

"I will try to return dear as soon as I can. If I don't die along the way." Jaskier sighed, looking at Radovid solemnly.

"You better." Radovid responded.

He leaned in and gave Jaskier a hug and a kiss goodbye before he watched as they both got onto their horses and slowly made their way out of Redania.

**********

"You know I really don't think we have properly been introduced." Jaskier commented after they had been traveling for several hours.

"What do you mean by that?" Ilaria chuckled.

"Well besides my name, what do you know about me?" Jaskier questioned.

She sighed and looked at him with her eyebrow cocked. He looked back at her with an innocent look. Shaking her head she sighed. She could feel Jaskier's eyes on her waiting for her response.

"You're a bard who for some reason has a crush on my brother it seems. If memory serves correctly you have been known to sleep with many women. Also you normally hang around with a witcher. Am I missing anything?" Ilaria retorted.

"What is your favorite song of mine?" Jaskier beamed, seeming to have missed the rest of what she said.

She rolled her eyes, "Glad you heard nothing else of what I said to you. Well I guess I want you to guess my favorite song then.".

"Hmmmm that is tough." Jaskier stared at her pondering for a moment, "Ah you seem like the type for What for d'you yearn? It's the point of no return after everything we did and saw you turned your back on me." Jaskier sang.

Ilaria started laughing as she listened to Jaskier singing his heart out. He immediately stopped singing and started to pout.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to laugh, I just wasn't expecting that. But no, that one is not my favorite. Actually not sure I've heard it if I'm being honest. It sounds like it came from heartbreak though.".

"Me heartbroken? Gosh no….never…..maybe once. But seriously you've never heard of it? Ugh fine. Which one is your favorite then?" Jaskier questioned.

"Well it may be the only one I've actually heard you sing in person. But uh….The Fishmonger's Daughter." Ilaria blushed.

Jaskier stopped the horse and pondered the song choice for a moment looking at Ilaria bewildered.

"I can only remember one time I sang that song. Or at least one time that would have been for a court where you would have heard it." Jaskier finally responded.

"So? That one would be my favorite of yours. Now come on we need to keep going if you want to make it to the next town before nightfall.".

Jaskier nodded, snapping out of his thoughts and urged his horse to move again. Several hours later Ilaria could hear him humming along to The Fishmonger's Daughter and found herself smiling.

"So why was the witcher there with you that night?" Ilaria finally inquired, trying to make conversation.

"Huh?" Jaskier responded clearly confused.

"The day you sang the Fishmonger's Daughter. The witcher was clearly not supposed to be there. But if I remember correctly it seemed like he was there with you." Ilaria noted.

"Yeah he was. Why were you there though?" Jaskier noted.

"It was a ball! I am a princess!" Ilaria teased,"but besides that I mean I was sort of friends with Pavetta and she wanted me to be there for support if nothing else.".

"Did you know the man she ended up with? That was wild how Queen Calanthe tried to have him killed and the whole fight and Pavetta with her powers saving him." Jaskier mused.

"I didn't know him personally, no. But she told me a little bit about him. Now tell me why the witcher was there and how you know him. That does sound like a good story." Ilaria suggested.

Jaskier almost couldn't hide his excitement at getting to talk about his favorite witcher. He talked about his first meeting of Geralt and all of their adventures and how they inspired each of his songs. He also mentioned why he brought Geralt to the ball as a bodyguard. At that point it was starting to get dark and Jaskier realized they still had a ways to go before they reached the town as he saw the buildings just coming into sight on the horizon.

"So….um…..do you not find it strange your father didn't give us a guard to protect us at all?" Jaskier inquired.

"Not really." Ilaria responded.

Jaskier looked at her with wide eyes. She chuckled at his expression.

"I am a female for one. But if I am being logical he probably figured you were enough protection for me. Otherwise he is grieving still so he may not have considered it." Ilaria sighed.

"Well I am definitely not enough protection. I don't even have a sword or anything of that nature. So we better hope we reach that town before nightfall." Jaskier stated.

Ilaria rolled her eyes as she honestly longed to be traveling with Cahir because at least he would be able to protect her. But here she was and she was grateful if nothing else to have the company. Thankfully just after sunset they reached the town in one piece and immediately they began looking for an inn. Of course everything with either two rooms or even two beds in one room was taken. Begrudgingly they settled on the last place they stopped at which had a single bed and went into the room.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor or in that chair over there or something. I would appreciate a blanket or even a pillow.." Jaksier volunteered.

Ilaria groaned, somehow feeling bad for him, "If you promise to keep your hands to yourself you can sleep in the bed. It looks big enough.".

Jaskier looked at her for a moment debating what he should do before he sighed, “ Honestly princess what sort of man do you take me for? I am a perfect gentleman who would never put my hands on someone ever without their explicit consent!”. With a small huff Jaskier strutted past Ilaria. At the door he turned to face her with a smirk on his face. He winked at her before flipping his hair and walking out the door down to the pub attached to the inn for a much needed drink.

“Oh a perfect gentleman alright! Didn’t even close the door you lazy lout!” Ilaria shouted after him slamming the door before sitting down on the bed grinning, “I can definitely see why Radovid likes him. The cheeky bastard.”.

She eventually laid back on the bed staring up at the ceiling above. Ever since Radovid and now Jaskier had reminded her of Pavetta and that ball she hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But, now that she had time to really think about it she couldn’t help but think that woman she had seen in the water with Cahir looked oddly like Pavetta. Could it have been her? But why was she warning her about Emhyr? Ilaria realized how tired she was as she began to doze off. She got under the covers and made herself as comfortable as she could. Once asleep she began to dream as if she was at a ball watching people around her dancing. She made her way through the dancing bodies unsure of exactly where she was going. Just as she found her way away from the dance floor she found herself face to face with Pavetta.

"He is dangerous. If you won't protect yourself then I must ask you to protect my daughter." Pavetta demanded.

"What do you mean won't protect myself? How is he dangerous? How can I protect your daughter?" Ilaria questioned, desperate to know the answers.

Pavetta shook her head at her before pushing her back into the crowd. Ilaria shoved her way back out but this time found herself facing a haggard old woman.

"You're bound by destiny to him my dear. You'll never be free of him now." The old woman cackled.

"My destiny? What does that mean? He let me go so doesn't that mean I'm free of him?".

The old woman grinned before vanishing. Ilaria woke up with a start. Her heart was racing as she glanced around the room gathering her bearings. She heard a loud snore and realized Jaskier had returned and was asleep on the floor. Sighing she flopped back down against the pillows, her mind racing with questions. She glanced over at the empty space next to her in the bed and for a moment her mind was cleared as she wondered about Emhyr and if she had even crossed his mind once since she left.

*********

Back in Cintra:

Emhyr left the war room late that night and made his way down the grand staircase to find himself some food. Once he had eaten he started to make his way back up the stairs. He knew it was late and that he should go to bed. But he wasn’t quite tired enough yet to go to bed. Emhyr debated going back up and working more on his war strategies or perhaps even going and taking a bath. Instead he started to walk down the hallway finding himself in front of the door of the room where Ilaria had stayed while she was here. He stood outside the closed door anxious to go in even though he knew she wasn't in there. Taking a deep breath Emhyr opened the door and stepped in. Releasing the breath he stood in the room and closed his eyes. There was a longing in his soul for her and somehow just being in her room near the few things she had left behind helped him feel closer to her. Emhyr wandered over to the bed and sat down on it. Oh how he wanted her back here already. The thoughts running through his mind felt wrong since for years his focus had been on power, getting back his kingdom, and fulfilling a prophecy. How did this woman change these thoughts? Was he really more scared to lose her than he was to lose the next battle? Sighing he stood up and walked from the room before his thoughts could get any worse. After closing the door Emhyr made his way back to his own bedroom deciding that sleep would benefit him. Quickly he changed and laid down onto his bed almost glaring at the empty space next to him wishing Ilaria was there next to him filling it but he did wonder if he had even crossed her mind once since she left.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #radovid #radskier #jaskier #the witcher original character #the witcher au #emhyr var emreis

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piceuscelus · 5 months

Note

t4t ciri/cerys, cerys is so determined to seduce ciri she doesn't realize how easy it's going to be (idk if you wanted, like, trans SPECIFIC prompts vs just prompts with trans characters? i do very much envision this as trans girls having slutty crushes on each other and being endearingly awkward about it bc maybe people haven't responded well to them in the past, or maybe ciri doesn't realize cerys is also trans? but also just a simple cute blushy t4t fuckfest would be great lol)

(i will send another, trashier prompt next)

hi i know this prompt was Forever Ago but i did NOT forget it

it just fuckin Refused To Go

but it went! finally! and now it's here! and it's even below my tumblr post limit! (it admittedly might not be exactly to the prompt. but)

it'll be going up on ao3 like, immediately after this ask posts in case anyone is terribly concerned about content tags but this one is Extremely Tame and soft

trans woman Ciri / nonbinary Cerys

It’s a pity, Ciri thinks, that she doesn’t make it back to the Isles very often. Of course, she knows perfectly well why she doesn’t – she rules both Nilfgaard and Cintra, and thus most of the southern half of the Continent. She’s entirely too busy to be galavanting off to Skellige without a purpose – her court will barely allow her the occasional Witchering break, and they only do that begrudgingly because if they don’t, she tends to start threatening to skewer diplomats. The likelihood of that stuffy lot agreeing to let her vacation to Skellige for no good reason is slim to none.

There is the upside, though, that she never has to bother with a week-long boat trip unless she has a hankering for being sea sick.

When she lands on solid ground, it’s bright and sunny and frigidly cold. She takes a deep breath and just revels in it for a moment, even as she starts to shiver, taking in the familiar smells and sounds.

Of course, as soon as someone notices her standing there in the courtyard, a commotion starts up.

She sighs, but tolerates the sudden influx of guards and their squires rushing over to investigate, and then, once they’ve assured themselves that she’s a known guest, if an unexpected one, the addition of half a dozen maids that arrive to fuss. All of them are bowing so low they may as well be kneeling – it would be faster and require less stumbling, at least – and stammering as they try to address her with an amount and type of formality that’s always been a bit foreign on the Isles.

When she can finally get a word in edgewise, she cuts straight to the chase. “Yes, thank you, where is Queen Cerys?”

One of the guards answers. “Her Majesty is with the jarls, out on the cliffs.”

Ciri raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“It’s a tradition, Your Imperial Majesty,” another guard says, the capital letters and his unfamiliarity with her title obvious in the stilted, slow way he speaks. “A…rebirth, of sorts, for the new year. All of the jarls, the druids, and the Queen jump into the sea to be cleansed.”

“And several others, for the fun of it,” one of the squires adds, sounding almost bemused, as if he doesn’t quite understand how the dive could be fun.

Ciri isn’t entirely sure fun is the right word, really – she’d probably use thrill instead. She remembers, now, years and years ago, watching Eist do something similar – but it was in the summer, when the cold waters were a fairly refreshing shock, and not the tail end of fall, when falling into the sea could easily become a death sentence if you were stupid or sickly. She’d been allowed to jump then, too, though only into the shallows and not off the cliffside with the rest (for the sake of her grandmother’s blood pressure).

Then again, the line between the concept of fun and thrill is a thin one, and, well – she’d come to the Isles for fun, hadn’t she?

“Which shore are they on?”

– – – – –

When Ciri finally makes it up the cliff where the local nobility are making like ritual-minded lemmings, Cerys is just beginning to strip down to her underthings in preparation for her own jump. It appears she’s the last of the leaders to go, most of the jarls already soaked and shivering on the beach below.

She keeps her more lurid thoughts to herself, watching Cerys shuck her dress, and makes a split second decision to distract her mind from the gutter. “Aye! Time for a late arrival?”

The spears immediately pointed in her direction aren’t a shock, so she mostly ignores them, just stopping where she’s at and waiting.

“Don’t you lot recognize the damn Empress?” Cerys asks, laughing as everyone sort of sheepishly shuffles their weapons back to where they belong. She looks at Ciri to continue, “And don’t you know better than to barge into a group of Islanders unannounced?”

Ciri laughs, too, but doesn’t bother answering – it’s a rhetorical question, and they all know that really, she’s allowed to barge in wherever she’d like. She gestures to the edge of the cliff. “Well, may I join?”

Cerys also gestures to the cliff, but with an over-exaggerated, fake curtsy. “You may!”

Immediately, there are a handful of damp squires appearing at her side, hands held out, so she strips off and hands her clothes over. She only strips down to the same as Cerys, the single layer of underthings – she doesn’t particularly understand the point of wearing anything for this, but she’s also aware that her penchant for nudity is unusual, and is willing to follow the Queen’s lead.

“Together, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri steps up to her side. They’re both shivering lightly in the icy breeze wafting in from the waves. “Or would you like the honor alone?”

“You’re the Queen of the Skellige Isles, Cerys, it ought to be your honor,” Ciri says, half-teasing, and Cerys’ eyes sparkle.

“And you’re the Witcher Cirilla of Vengerberg, Lioness of Cintra and Empress of Nilfgaard, The Swallow Bearing the Sun in Her Wings,” Cerys retorts, “and you outrank me by a league. So?”

Ciri rolls her eyes as theatrically as possible at the full title, though she’s privately pleased that Cerys used both of Vengerberg and the informal order of it. “Together, then.”

She offers her hand as she takes a step closer to the cliff’s edge, toes already freezing in the sparse, damp grass.

Cerys steps up alongside her and threads their fingers together. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, with a little half-curtsy, still a fake one since she’s not wearing a damn dress, and a smirk that belies the formal tone.

Ciri immediately drops Cerys’ hand just to shove her off the cliff and jump right after her.

– – – – –

By the time they’ve swum back to shore, anyone else who wanted to jump has already done it, and it turns into a race back to the castle before fingers and toes go from numb to dead. All the same, they’re laughing as they finally stumble into the marginally-warmer stone halls, the mood easy and light, chatter and laughter echoing off of the high ceilings.

It’s only when they’ve made their way to Cerys’ rooms, already prepped and ready with a large, steaming bath, that Ciri realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s meant to be staying. Or if she’s even welcome.

Her rank and power do a lot to smooth the way wherever she’d like to go – and her sword and medallion often do what the crown cannot – but she prefers not to use any of them like a cudgel.

Cerys, though, seems to have the same realization a beat after her.

“I can send someone to make up a room,” she says, “but in the meantime, we could share a bath.” There’s a hint of lechery in the quirk of her lips. “Only if you don’t think that would be too…improper, of course.”

Ciri nearly asks where in the world Cerys picked up the idea that she’s ever given a single fuck about proper, but decides that playing coy is much more fun. “It might be,” she says, slowly. “But….”

She rubs her arms and shivers. It’s a little exaggerated, but certainly not entirely an act – she is cold, clothes still wet and skin a little slimy where the seawater lingers.

“It’s cold, and it’ll take too long to make up another bath for you,” Cerys says, and this time her tone is at least half-serious. “You’ll catch your death, Your Imperial Highness – and I cannot, nor do I want to, imagine the horrors your court would bring down upon me if I allowed it to happen. I’m just a lowly Islander queen, after all.”

The snark is back, with the last part, and Ciri can’t help how she snorts.

“Alright, alright.” She prods Cerys into the room and follows along, closing the door behind them. She catches sight of a door across the room shutting with utmost gentleness, likely a servant who had realized that they were not needed and decided to at least be discreet about their eavesdropping. “I’m sure my honor will survive the blow.”

“Mine certainly won’t, but it’s not as if I had much to begin with,” Cerys retorts, and Ciri chokes on another laugh.

“You know what they say about Skelligers,” she says, trailing off with a wink, and Cerys just raises an eyebrow.

“What, that we’re one good blow away from a fight?”

Ciri giggles. “No, that you’re one good blow to anyone’s honor.”

It clearly takes a second to click, Cerys squinting at her for slightly longer than a typical beat, but Ciri sees the moment it finally dawns, the queen’s eyes going wide before she starts cackling.

“That was awful, Cirilla,” she scolds, but she’s grinning wide and there’s no heat to her voice, just poorly-concealed laughter.

Before Ciri can come up with another witty reply – either about her wonderful wordplay, or the use of her full first name – Cerys is huffing and shaking her head, starting to tug at her own layers.

She tosses them directly onto the floor with no care as she wriggles free of them, and Ciri starts to do the same, struggling out of the top dress and progressively wetter layers beneath, until she’s reached the last of them, her underthings still soaked and getting slimier by the second.

She hesitates. As unpleasant as the soggy cotton is, and as thrilled as she usually is to be free of clothes, it’s…. Well. If this were just a bath with a friend, or even just fellow nobility, it wouldn’t be anything to drop her clothes. She’s done it before in springs and bathhouses.

But this isn’t just another sovereign, or even just a friend. This is…well, it’s Cerys, someone that Ciri can admit (at least in her own head, privately, to herself) she’s been carrying a torch about for…as long as they’ve known one another, probably.

(Definitely.)

Cerys is speaking again, though, as she’s peeling out of the layer just above her underthings, struggling with the fabric as its soaked so much water up from the layer below, and Ciri is distracted from her not-quite spiral about her infatuation.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Cerys says, and Ciri’s stomach drops to the floor in the split second it takes for her to notice the wry quirk to Cerys’ mouth. Before she can relocate her own words, Cerys continues, though this time it’s quieter, more of a mutter. “...then again, s’pose I have no room to speak on that.”

Ciri doesn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. She’s aware that she should probably pretend she didn’t.

But she’s burningly curious as to what, exactly, that means, so she quirks a brow when Cerys’ eyes next catch hers. “Oh?”

Harmless, directionless flirting is one thing – something they’ve been doing for the same amount of time Ciri’s carried the torch – but that? That sounded like an admission.

Cerys makes a small, short sound, something of a cross between a squeak and a snort, coloring a little. “If I may be crass, Your Imperial Majesty,” she winks, and Ciri feels herself flushing, because this time the title sounds more genuine, even if it’s in a crude way. “You have a truly spectacular pair of tits.”

Ciri snickers, and before she even thinks it all the way through, she’s quipping, “Thank you, Yennefer helped me pick them out when I got tired of being shaped wrong.”

What she’s said sinks in just a second too late, and she sucks in a breath, biting her cheek against trying to over explain. It’s possible Cerys will misunderstand that – think it has to do with self-esteem, and not anything to do with the confused whispers about wasn’t the heir to Cintra a boy? – but if she opens her mouth again, she could give the truth away.

But Cerys’ mouth drops open to mirror how tightly Ciri’s gritting her teeth, and she stutters, “You were – ” before she’s squeaking and putting a hand over her mouth.

They stand frozen, just staring at one another, for a long moment.

Ciri tries to find her voice, tries to come up with something to say – to brush it off, or to admit the truth, or maybe a secret third option she hasn’t come up with yet. She doesn’t know, but the silence is stretching out longer and longer, and she feels like there are ants crawling along the back of her neck.

Despite all her frantic thoughts, Cerys beats her to breaking it. “Something we almost have in common, then,” she says, and finishes peeling out of her underclothes, revealing her own chest – perfectly flat, nothing but solid muscle and pink-white scars cupping the shape of her pectorals. “Mousesack helped me pick mine when I got tired of the same.”

And the scars are – obvious, really, Cerys is hardly the first person Ciri has met with them, but it takes until she speaks for it to really click, and then – and then she’s laughing, caught somewhere between fierce relief and flustered sheepishness.

“Good to know we have that in common?” she asks, voice shifting down a little, like it hasn’t since she was thirteen and Yennefer started teaching her how to pitch it higher, and she hopes that Cerys understands her meaning – that she means a bit more than just picking out surgi-magical modifications to their chests.

She expects that Cerys will laugh, probably – that she’ll poke fun at Ciri, almost certainly. What she doesn’t expect, in any way, is for Cerys to step into her space, reaching out and cupping one roughened palm around the nape of her neck to yank her even closer.

“I’m pretty sure it’s more than that,” she murmurs, and then her mouth is ghosting over Ciri’s, the distant suggestion of a kiss.

Like hell is she going to turn that down.

They’re still shivering finely from the cold and wet, Ciri’s underthings uncomfortably slimy between them – really, it’s atrocious how seawater just never actually seems to dry, just turns to slime and then…crusts – but none of that really matters, not in the face of the kiss.

The kiss, which is going quickly from chaste and almost innocent to something decidedly more hungry, Cerys’ fingers finding their way into Ciri’s hair, her other hand creeping around her waist and then up to cup her ribs. Ciri, for her part, gets her hands on Cerys’ waist first, and then shifts them to the lower curve of her spine and the place between her shoulderblades as they press closer.

When they finally break apart they’re both panting, and the way Cerys’ fingers are curling around the curve of Ciri’s skull, a rough, callused thumb rasping back and forth just under her ear, has Ciri shivering for reasons entirely unrelated to the damp.

She doesn’t know if Cerys misreads the trembling, or if maybe she understands and simply makes an unrelated decision, but without a word she’s taking a step back, pulling Ciri gently toward the bath. The way she tugs at Ciri’s remaining clothes, though, is significantly less gentle.

It’s a little hard to get naked, considering that they both refuse to step away from another with equal fervor, but between four hands they manage. They also succeed – somehow – in clambering their way into the bath without injury.

Through another kiss, they end up settled on a very convenient seat along the edge of the ridiculously large tub, Ciri on the ledge and Cerys perched in her lap. The position leaves their bottom halves in quite close contact for the first time, and before Ciri can even start to – explain? apologize? she’s not entirely sure – Cerys is humming, a distinctly pleased little sound, and settling her weight more firmly in Ciri’s lap.

“Hello there,” she says, and rolls her hips, pinning Ciri’s half-hard cock properly between them. “I’d ask about pockets, but all things considered, I think I can just assume you’re happy to see me.”

Ciri wants to say something in response to that – even if it’s just to cry hypocrisy about Cerys’ early rebuke of Ciri’s earlier pun – but all that comes out is a thin, reedy little moan.

It makes Cerys laugh, but it’s a breathy sound, cut off when she presses their mouths together again, so Ciri isn’t too terribly offended.

She’s usually more put together, she swears she is, but, well. This torch has been burning for a little less than most of her life, for fucks’ sake.

While they kiss, Cerys starts to move, rocking her hips to grind them together, and both of them end up making broken, breathless little noises into each others’ mouths. The water intensifies the friction, washing away the slick either of them could produce well before it’s of any use, but it also makes the movements easier, smoothing out the jerkiness where both of them are startling to tremble.

Gods above, Ciri should not be this close because of a handful of kisses and a pretty queen in her lap. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s been pining for a ridiculous length of time, or that she’s not had much time for anyone except her own hand lately, or maybe that Cerys really is just that incredible. Whatever it is, she absolutely refuses to embarrass herself so thoroughly, at least this first time.

It takes entirely too much willpower, but she gets her hands on Cerys’ hips, stopping the rocking movement and splashing water over the edges of the tub with the sudden interruption to the water’s motion. Cerys makes a little sound, whiny and petulant, and Ciri is halfway through a choked sort of coo at how cute that was when Cerys’ eyes snap open.

“Sorry, was that – ”

Ciri feels a little bad when pressing her fingers over Cerys’ lips apparently gets some bathwater in her mouth, but she doesn’t need an apology and doesn’t want to entertain it. “I’m fine,” she assures. “I just – have a better idea.”

At that, the scrunched combination of shock and concern on Cerys’ face smooths out, replaced instead by obvious curiosity. Her eyes are bright and her lips are a little swollen from their kisses, and Ciri has to resist the urge to lean forward and nip at them, at least for now. Instead, she starts prodding Cerys off of her lap, and giggles when Cerys’ expression once again shifts in a heartbeat, turning to a small pout even as she follows the silent direction and finds her own feet.

Ciri can’t resist that, not entirely, so she leans forward to kiss the corner of the pout as she also stands from the bench. Cerys turns her head and turns it into a real kiss, because of course she does, and Ciri is weak, so she allows it for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she finally says, when they have to pull apart for air, and before Cerys can complain – or catch her in another kiss – she slips behind her and gently nudges her forward again.

She tries to turn at first, clearly trying to sit, but Ciri gets her arms around her waist and keeps her facing forward. She nuzzles against Cerys’ ear and whispers, “Like this,” before guiding her forward again, until her knees are pressed to the bench.

From there, she drags her hands back down to Cerys’ hips, then her thighs, coaxing her to keep going forward, until she’s kneeling on the ledge. That’s when she seems to get the idea, suddenly tugging out of Ciri’s grip to scoot forward and bend at the waist, bracing her palms against the thick edge of the tub.

“Yeah, perfect,” Ciri murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss between Cerys’ shoulderblades, fingers finding the stretched smoothness of the scars on her chest. She kisses down Cerys’ spine, hands following the same path but down her front, and when she’s reached where her back starts to curve into ass, Ciri shifts her weight and drops into a low crouch.

She uses her hands, curled around the very tops of Cerys’ thighs, to shift her hips up a little more, just enough to lift her cunt properly above the water.

Cerys shivers and whines, soft and breathless, and Ciri presses a kiss to where the waterline is lapping at the back of her thigh.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cerys is almost panting. When Ciri looks up – she has to lean a little to the side, to see more than the curve of Cerys’ ass and spine – Cerys is turned to look over her shoulder, eyes gone wide and dark.

She keeps their gazes locked as she slowly trails her fingers up and to the side, along the cut of Cerys’ hipbone, and then in and down, until she’s petting over the soft curls just above her slit. Cerys’ lashes flutter, mouth dropping open for the space of a panting breath before she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to bite at it.

She whines when Ciri doesn’t keep going, squirming a little, hips rolling forward into Ciri’s hand. Ciri chuckles and turns her head to kiss along the curve of her ass and back down to the back of her thigh.

“Can I?” she asks, dragging her fingers further down, almost to Cerys’ clit but not quite there yet. Already, she can feel the heat – the difference between the water and Cerys’ body, the apex of her thighs, much warmer where she’s all swollen.

Cerys whines and bucks her hips, stammering out a, “P-please.”

Ciri lets the movement do what it intended to do, since she asked so nicely, fingers slipping over Cerys’ clit. The friction of it is a little rough with nothing but water between them yet, but Cerys just whines and bucks again, so Ciri keeps going, until Cerys has made a proper mess of herself and the touch is slick and wet.

“Good,” Ciri murmurs, mostly thoughtless, and traces an intentional, firm circle around Cerys’ clit at the same time she mouths along the edge of her outer labia, tongue flickering barely over where she’s wet and fluttering. Those touches earn her another whine, more desperate this time, as Cerys leans harder against her braced arms just so she can raise her hips and press back into the tease of Ciri’s mouth. “Yeah, fuck, so good.”

“C-Ciri, please,” Cerys breathes.

Ciri curses and leans further forward, flattening her tongue over the slick mess built between Cerys’ thighs. The sound Cerys makes in response could be reasonably called a shout, if it weren’t so pitchy and breathless, and Ciri grins but doesn’t bother pulling back. When she teases her tongue at Cerys’ entrance, she gets another almost-shout, and when she presses in, the sound turns into a low, warbling little mewl.

Her cock throbs where it’s bobbing in the water, and she imagines the two of them are probably going to sully it enough that a brand new bath is needed, but that’s the only real thought she spares for it.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” Cerys finally gasps, after Ciri has spent a few minutes pressing her tongue just inside the clutch of her entrance and then pulling back out to trace her folds before doing it again.

She hasn’t even really been meaning to tease – she’s just…taken with the taste of Cerys, with feeling her twitch and flutter. Entirely too taken to be paying much attention to the passage of seconds – or to keep moving her fingers, she realizes. The pleas, though, bring her right back, and she hums into Cerys’ heat before she’s pressing closer, rubbing at Cerys’ clit again as she presses her tongue as deep as she can get it.

Cerys squeals, hips jerking, and Ciri reconsiders her original intention to pull back and say something filthy. Instead, she stays right where she is, shifting in her crouch just to relieve some pressure on her ankles, and tongue-fucks Cerys until the she’s starting to shake and babble.

“Fuck, fuck, you – ah, ah – oh gods, Ciri – ”

Whenever Cerys makes a new noise or starts shaking harder, Ciri follows that as if it were explicit directions, until Cerys is no longer babbling, she’s just making scattered noise, entirely breathless. She’s so hard she could use her cock as a hammer, but all she can really focus on is how sweet Cerys’ cunt is, all of the pretty noises and trembling that she’s working out of her with just her hand and tongue. It’s – heady, and hotter than it has any right to be, and so much more than she’d ever even dared dream about, at least consciously.

Cerys can make jokes-that-aren’t about how far Ciri outranks her all she wants, but in Ciri’s opinion, Cerys is so far out of her league that it balances them right back out. She’s fairly certain Cerys would take offense to that, though, and not at all for her own sake, so Ciri fully plans to keep that as a thought to herself.

She’s almost worried, for a split second, when Cerys’ suddenly goes tripwire-taut, but then her mouth is suddenly flooded with slick and she understands. She groans, but doesn’t let up on her ministrations, working Cerys through the peak of the pleasure and out to quivering on the other side.

“Ciri, Ciri, fuck, oh my gods – ”

She doesn’t stop until Cerys fumbles a hand back and catches at her hair. The feeble tapping at her head is, by itself, ineffectual in making her stop, but she doesn’t want this to tip into the bad kind of overstimulation, so she follows the silent direction and pulls back.

She intends to ask something cheeky about if that was good, but before she can manage more than just the breath in, Cerys is leaning up and turning, the hand still sort of limp against Ciri’s head finding its way into her hair just to tug slightly.

“Please get up here and fuck me,” Cerys pants, tugging at her hair again, and Ciri certainly isn’t going to say no.

It’s not the first time she’s experienced the sensation of her dick overtaking her brain, but she thinks it might be the most intense instance of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, and lets go of Cerys just long enough to brace on the side of the tub and the ledge so she can lever herself back to standing. She ignores the tingling in her legs – it’s not bad enough she’ll topple, so it doesn’t matter – and instead bends to press along Cerys’ back, one arm slipping around her waist while the other hand goes to her throat. She nudges at Cerys’ jaw with her fingers until she turns properly and Ciri can kiss her again.

She has to take her hand away to reach down and guide her cock, but Cerys barely seems to notice, at least until Ciri is nudging up against her entrance.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasps, head dropping back down as her knuckles go white around the edge of the tub. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Ciri murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of Cerys’ throat in absence of her mouth.

It only takes some more minute shifting, using her other hand to steady Cerys’ hips as she guides herself with the one around her cock, and she’s slipping in. They both make high, shocky little sounds, and Ciri bites at Cerys’ shoulder as her hips jerk.

She wants to go slow, to check in, but Cerys is letting go of the edge of the tub to throw her arm back, fingernails digging into Ciri’s hip when her hand finally finds it, and she doesn’t have much choice with the way she’s yanked, unless she wants to send the both of them tumbling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

“Fuck me,” Cerys repeats, and Ciri makes a wordless sound of agreement before she’s doing just that.

#Anonymous #celus writes #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #celus trans characters cw

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astrid-sama · 2 years

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The dances aren't that bad after all (Calanthe x fem reader)

(Il post c'è anche in Italiano sul mio profilo)

(English is not my first language, sorry for the mistaken)

<<So stay next to me, evil look and pretend to be mute nobody has to know who you are >> Gerald and I are at the royal palace of Cintra to protect Jaskier from the horned royals. He forced us to dress like sad silk merchants by saying it was best to keep a "low profile".

<< Gerald and T / N the intrepid witchers >> suddenly all the guests of the banquet turn to look at us.

<<Fuck>> apparently Jaskier's plan didn't go well.

<<How are you not seen since the times of the plague >>

<< Good times lot of mousesack >>

<> sack of mouse then turned to me << Y / N because you and Gerald are dressed like sad traders of silk? >> instead of answering I turn to look at Jaskier and from the expression on his face I guess he understood why we are here.

<< Come with me I want to show you something >> so the three of us walk among the tables full of suitors.

<>

<<So it's an old and grumpy kingdom >> says Gerald making a rat-bag smile.

<< How long will all this last the nobility is better to take it in small doses >>

<< I'm sorry for you T / N but do not hope to leave before dawn the suitors will contend for Pavetta's hand all night, a royal wedding is highly coveted, who would not want to become the king of the most powerful kingdom in the region> > says sack of mouse while taking a sip of beer.

<<So which of these privileged balls did you cheat? >> I asked while drinking a beer trying to change the subject.

<<Come with me I'll show you something >> he says walking between the tables until he gets near a table where a man looking like a pig eats as if he hasn't seen food for days.

<< I would never have believed it but that drunkard down there - he said pointing to the man in front of us - will marry Pavetta the lioness has already planned everything with the uncle of the boy Eist of Skellige, no one would dare to hinder such a powerful alliance> > he said as he watched a nobleman turn a dagger in his hands.

<< Skilled with blades and skilled with women >>

<<All appearance, Queen Calanthe has refused his proposal three times, and useless to continue to try the lioness is not made to stay in the shadow of a husband >> while a lot of mouse was talking I realized how a man ( surely the husband of one of the women Jaskier slept with) was cornering Jaskier, I pointed this out to Gerald and together we headed to rescue Jaskier.

<<Forgive me sir it always happens that Jaskier is mistaken for a cowardly rascal but I assure you that it is not so, Y / N can you explain? >> Gerald says turning to me, obviously he wants me to invent something.

<<You are right, sir it is known that as a child he was hit in the balls by a bull >>

Jaskier nods and the man apologizes before leaving.

<< But thank you very much first attract all the attention and then ruin my reputation at court >> says Jaskier offended.

<< We saved you, now try not to get stabbed before dawn >>

Suddenly the trumpets start to sound and a man announces the return of Queen Calanthe, when I turn to look I find myself in front of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she is in armor with untidy hair covered in blood from head to toe , a real lioness is wild and beautiful.

<<Beer>> shouts the queen, then apologizes for the delay saying that she had to remind the rebels who is in charge, thus making all the men applaud.

I'm still watching her as she walks to the table where her daughter is, Gerald notices it and gives me a knowing smile, obviously he knows about my preference for women.

<<You did not kill a gnat let alone a manticore >>

<> two nobles were arguing, each of them claimed to have killed a manticore, which obviously neither of them had done.

The discussion had become so intense that even the queen joined in << There are famous guests tonight maybe they will be able to tell us which of the two lords is telling the truth >> all turned towards us waiting for one of the two to speak.

. <<Neither>> I said and Gerald nodded in agreement.

<< Are you calling us liars? It is obvious that the butchers of Blaviken are lying >> said one of the lords.

<<Maybe they could have met some sub species of manticore >> Gerald adds after seeing the important look that Jaskier gave him. The queen laughed.

<< Maybe our guests can tell us how they slaughtered the elves at the edge of the world >>

<<In reality, Her Highness, we have not killed any elves, on the contrary we were almost to be killed >> Gerald said as the crowd began to laugh at us << At least when their sword has reached our throat we are not there below, I hope it would have been like that for you too, but I doubt it >> I added.

<<Any man and woman willing to admit their failures will make tonight's conversations more interesting, come witcher sit next to me I'm going to change >> said the queen.

<<These damn clothes I'd rather wear my armor >>

Calanthe said as she touched her corset-tight stomach.

<< Me too, and Gerald agrees too >> I replied.

<< In fact, what are two witchers doing at my daughter's engagement party dressed as >>

<< like sad silk merchants >> Gerald said finishing the sentence started by the queen.

<<We protect the bard from the vengeful real horned >> I replied.

<<A heap of idiots, I am glad of your presence will be useful to me, tonight surely some blood will be shed >>

<> Gerald said taking a sip of beer.

<<You have been hired by the bard >>

<<We are simply doing a favor to a friend Highness >> I replied while she rolled her eyes.

<< I'm just saying that in case all hell breaks loose, I count on you to eliminate some subjects that could be in the way >>

<< Neither I nor Gerald will help you >>

<< As a queen I could force you to do it >>

<<If we were your subjects but we are not >> the queen turns to look at me obviously struck by what I said.

<>

<<I'm sorry height but the torture does not have much effect on those like us >> the queen smiled, apparently she liked me.

During the party Calanthe and I kept talking and I could have sworn I saw the lust in her eyes as the conversations went on.

Suddenly she got up and started walking towards the exit of the hall, she touched my shoulder lightly as if inviting me to follow her, I waited a little to avoid arousing suspicion and then followed her.

I had only taken a few steps when I was pushed against the corridor wall with Calanthe's lips above mine, suddenly her hands were on my body, I gasped in surprise and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth. When we separated we were both breathing hard, Calanthe was looking at me with a hungry look practically undressing me with her eyes.

<<We should move this in more private >> she said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me into her bedroom.

Now I am in Calanthe's bed my head on her chest, our bodies full of bites, hickeys and scratches.

There is no doubt it was definitely the best night of my life.

<<We should go back to the party before anyone suspects something >> Calanthe says as he runs his fingers through my hair, I nod and get up to put my clothes back on.

I was about to leave when Calanthe grabs me <<I'll wait in my rooms as soon as the party is over >> I nodded with a smile on mine lips, I can't wait for the party to end.

#calanthe of cintra #queen calanthe #queen calanthe x reader #calanthe x fem reader #calanthe x reader

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kuwdora · 7 months

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Hi hello! For the fic writer asks:

✿ did anything major change when you started writing Coin Operated Boy to when you finished?

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

✄ what’s your editing process?

Oh, hi you! These are excellent asks. Somehow I knew you would ask about this story. :)

Okay. So! With Coin Operated Boy I didn’t really have anything major change. I did end up cutting or not writing a lot more detail about Jaskier’s friendship with Cory and more Oxenfurt culture. Mostly because Jaskier was too busy being a puppet and didn’t have time for anything else. I had a lot more detail about Cory and Jaskier and their college friends, and passing around the same $20 for over two decades. Oxenfurt insider jokes, some more throwaway details about The Horrors happening outside the walled garden of Oxenfurt since the story takes place about 4-6 months after Cintra falls.

Also originally after puppetskier had been attacked by a kitty, he was gonna run into a random artist who would help and drop him off at Shani’s. Then I realized it would be way cuter if he actually encountered Karsten again because!! Small child and puppetskier! Relationship already established.

Not a major change either but I originally had a coda I was gonna do but then didn’t. I got so tired by the time I reached the end of the story that I just needed to be done. It was gonna be from Cory’s POV where she’s at a pottery stall or kiln and Karsten returns with some of the hidden treasure he had found and that he wanted to pass on to Jaskier because Jaskier was his new friend. I was also trying to find a way to have Shani stop by while Cory and Karsten were together for that moment. This idea was actually a brilliant suggestion by Castillon02. Alas, being tired and feeling all kinds of squishy about playing with my OCs a little more…the coda did not come to fruition.

I also have a second coda/probably a second story idea. Where Jaskier is hanging out with Yen and makes a passing reference to that time he was turned into a puppet for several days. And something something, Jaskier wants to be fucked as a puppet, something something horny comedy size difference and Yen indulging him.

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

I usually end up in somebody's DMs, usually @sassaffrassa trying to talk through my current problem. And cry a lot. I've been trying to do some short bursts of flashfic writing when I'm stuck editing just to reset my brain. Right now I wish I had better focus to be working on my vidding projects or my painting projects to step away from the writing medium. Slowly trying to get myself back into those things again just because I think it will help o have something else to work on.

But if I leave things too long without touching or thinking about it, then it's so much harder to get back into it. Even though I really, really want to finish it.

✄ what’s your editing process?

AS FOR EDITING, my god. It’s a... process. Going under a cut cause I ramble like the wordy gremlin I am.

I write and do my first round of editing in Scrivener. I usually write a scene and when I think I’m done, I go back and reread and start writing notes about things or highlighting passages I think about or want to revisit again. I outline after drafting a lot of the time. To see what actually happens and compare it to what I actually wanted to happen. Or thought was gonna happen. Cause I forget shit all the time while writing and sometimes can't see what I actually wrote unless I make bullet points. It's annoying.

I like Scrivener because I move a lot of scenes or whole sections around and I end up writing so many notes about different things that I end up with folders of stuff that doesn’t even make it into the story. Probably why it takes me for fucking ever to finish anything because I keep getting distracted with more ideas and details. But editing usually involves going back to my judicious use of brackets and filling in shit or figuring out what I was thinking. I jump around a lot in the editing stages because if I’m not feeling a certain section at the moment then I’m just not gonna get enough done.

Once I feel reasonably okay and like it’s readable, I pop the fic into gdocs for eventual betaing or cheer readers. I hate gdocs so much for anything longer than 4k because I can’t really see the scenes anymore. But it is helpful to be looking at the text on a different screen and I do appreciate that. I’ll continue to edit and make more specific line and paragraph highlights of things that are bothering me so I know what I’m gonna focus on when I come back later. Eventually I’ll reach a point of exhaustion and fling it at someone who’s willing to read it and pray that it makes sense. Usually in the case of my Leshkel stuff it doesn’t but that’s what another round of editing is usually for. When I’m mostly on the ball with my story I happily chew on beta comments and wrestle my paragraphs some more until I’m exhausted and never want to write again.

I recently started using the header feature in Gdocs so I can jump to my scene/chapter breaks a little easier now instead of scrolling through +15 pages and I think that will help my editing brain for this stage.

Anyway that was very long but!! Sort of how I roll.

fic ask meme

#answerdora #crushcandles #fic ask meme #writing meme #meme #puppetskier #a bard's hiatus in oxenfurt

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tellhound · 2 years

Text

Fandom: The witcher

Pairings: none

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer, Geralt

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks

Words: 3.6k

Also on AO3

Also quick note before the story begins... This will only be the first part of a series. Future fics should hopefully answer some questions this fic might bring.

The Weight Of Living

"I know your secret, bard." The words take Jaskier by surprise and for a moment he stops petting Roach. His heart is suddenly beating fast. Too fast and he knows that the woman behind him can probably hear it.

"And what secret would that be, witch?" he answers, silently cursing himself at how nervous he sounds. No one is supposed to know. But of course it would only be a matter of time before anyone would figure out his "little" secret.

"I know about the nightmares. And I know how you keep drinking yourself to sleep." she says and he relaxes just a little, glad it wasn't the real secret. Because if he's completely honest it's not like he's been trying to hide the drinking or how he sometimes wakes up screaming from the nightmares that he so badly wishes would just disappear. He's beyond tired at this point. The only thing he wants is for it all to end.

"You've been keeping your eyes on me then I assume." he says and he still can't quite control how his voice shakes when he speaks. "I don't like it."

"Let me help you." Her words take him by surprise and he finally turns towards the mage. But he doesn't stop petting Roach, because the feeling of her soft mane between his fingers is soothing and could possibly be the only thing keeping him from breaking down right there.

He's already exhausted from not getting enough sleep and from constantly being on edge around fires. There's no way he'll be able to stay strong much longer. Especially not if he's being confronted about it.

"Why should I trust you after everything you've done?" He already knows why. Knows she's saved him twice. Yes, the first time had been out of selfishness of wanting "everything" as she'd put it. The second time however... She'd been safe and could have so easily just left him to go to Cintra if she had wanted to. But instead she'd risked everything to save him. Not even to mention how she had sacrificed her own life just weeks ago to save Ciri and everyone else from Voleth Meir. He could only thank the gods that she was still here.

"I think you know why.'' He's not sure if she's just read his mind or not and even if she did he can't find it in himself to be mad about it. If anything maybe she could be able to make sense of the thoughts that keep running through his head whenever he's alone.

"What do you want in return?" He asks because he knows Yennefer, knows she rarely does things for others unless she can gain anything from it.

"Sing me a song." she says with a smile. The hand that's been petting Roach so far goes still. Can it really be true that the one and only Yennefer of Vengerberg wants nothing in payment except for him to sing for her? Surely he must have heard her wrong. "Just one song. That's all I want."

He turns to Roach again and buries his face in her mane as the thought of his lute lying broken somewhere on the docks in Oxenfurt enters his mind. Someone's probably taken it by now and have turned it into firewood or something. And what is a bard really without an instrument?

"Your idea of helping me doesn't involve magic, does it?" he asks her after a while. He doesn't quite want to admit it, but fire isn't the only thing that scares him after his run in with Rience.

"No. I think this is something that can only be fixed by talking about it. I can, however, try to fix your hand with my magic if you want me to."

"I... I don't..." he stops and takes a deep breath as he tries to figure out how to tell her that the thing he used to find so fascinating now scares him. He's glad he's still standing with his face in Roach's mane, cause he's not sure he'll be able to stop the tears that are threatening to spill at this point.

He hates how he flinches when he feels Yennefer laying one of her hands on his shoulder and just as quickly as it was placed there she removes it. "Sorry." she says. "I should've asked first if it was okay to touch you."

It's at this point that he turns towards her again and she looks softly at him. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it." he says just as the first tears start to fall.

Slowly she extends a hand towards him, giving him time to move away if he doesn't want this. But when he doesn't move she finally cups his face in her hand and softly rubs her thumb over his cheek as he leans into her touch. It's nice, he thinks. Because he doesn't remember the last time anyone touched him in this way. Only remembers all the times and the people that only used him for sex. Though to be fair he'd used them too. If only to feel the touch of someone else's hands on his body. Those hands had never been comforting. Not in the way that Yennefer's hand is bringing him comfort in that moment.

Without even thinking about it he steps forward and brings his arms up around her and buries his face in her neck as the tears continue falling. He used to hate the smell of lilacs and gooseberries that was always in the air whenever she was around. That same smell calms him now.

Yennefer doesn't even seem to hesitate when she hugs him back. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay." she says as he's shaking in her arms. She'd probably known for a while now that the bard was not okay. But there was no way she could have known just how easily he would crack when she decided to confront him about it.

He's not sure how long they just stand there when he can hear footsteps from someone approaching them and he tenses up against her, but makes no attempt at leaving the hug.

"There you are. I've been..." Geralt's familiar voice trails off behind them, probably shocked at the scene in front of him. "I'll... I'm gonna leave you two alone."

"Stay." Jaskier says as he looks up at the witcher. "If there's even a tiny part of you that ever cared about me... Please stay." his voice breaks on the last words.

"I'd stay forever if you asked me to." Geralt says and a moment later he's by their side, slowly rubbing Jaskier's back in a comforting way. It doesn't take long for one of Jaskier's hands to reach out and grab Geralt's wrist, almost as if he's scared the witcher is going to leave anyway if no one physically holds him back.

The three of them don't know how long they stay there, Jaskier crying, Yennefer whispering sweet nothings in his ear and Geralt rubbing his back before the bard releases them both and takes a step back before he uses his sleeves to wipe away the last remaining tears on his face.

"Sorry..." he says and looks down on the ground, ashamed of what had just happened. "I didn't... Sorry..."

"Never apologize for your feelings, Jaskier." Geralt says, sounding softer than Jaskier has ever heard him sound in the two decades they've known each other. For a moment he thinks that if something like this had happened before the mountain, Geralt would either have told him to suck it up or just left. Maybe both.

"I know. It's just... I'm just so tired. It's like we're all in the ocean and everyone's figured out how to swim except me. So I just keep flailing my arms in an attempt to stay above the water, but instead I just end up sinking down, down, down. And with every breath I take, my lungs just get filled with more water. Sometimes I think that maybe it would be better if I just... gave up and let the water completely consume me." he admits and once again he can feel his heartbeat speeding up with the anxiety he feels from so openly admitting what he's kept a secret for so long.

Jaskier is not sure what he expects to happen next, but it certainly isn't Geralt hugging him so hard that he can barely breathe, almost as if the man is suddenly afraid that he'll lose the bard forever if he lets go. And honestly isn't that pretty much what he had just admitted could happen?

"What can we do to help you, Jaskier?" Yennefer asks and fuck when did people actually start caring about him?

"Maybe letting me breathe would be a good start." he half jokes, but it seriously is hard to breathe with how hard Geralt is holding him.

"Sorry." the witcher says as he lets him go and takes a step back.

"I don't think there's anything you can do, to be honest. I think this is something I have to get through alone."

"But you're not alone anymore, Jaskier. You have us now." Yennefer says and if only he could believe that. But it's been weeks since they got to Kaer Morhen and they've barely spoken to him since then. Though to be fair he's stayed out of their way on purpose a lot of the time, knowing they're busy with training Ciri and whatever else they've been doing.

"It's not like you can fight my monsters for me though."

"You're right. We can't do that." Geralt answers and Jaskier's heart immediately drops even though he already knew it was true. "But we can be here for you. We can listen to what you're going through and take some of the burden from your shoulders. And maybe then fighting those monsters won't seem as daunting anymore." hearing those words Jaskier starts crying again.

"When did you get so good with words? Your vocabulary used to mostly consist of grunts that all meant different things." Or maybe you just never cared enough about me to use words. He knows that's not true though. Knows there were countless times Geralt could just have left if he had wanted to. And yet the witcher had always made sure to not walk faster than Jaskier could keep up with, taking plenty of breaks and making sure he always got a minimum of one meal a day. Not to mention all the times he'd saved the bard's life. Geralt had always cared. It had just been hard for Jaskier to see that after the mountain.

"Jaskier…" Geralt starts, thinking his words through to not say the wrong thing. "I had a lot of time to think once I started traveling the roads alone again and I realized I never treated you with the respect you deserve and that relationships can't function without proper communication. So I'm… I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for abandoning you. It's not gonna happen again."

There it is. The apology that Jaskier has been waiting for ever since Geralt came and rescued him from that cell in Oxenfurt and now that he's gotten it he's not really sure how to react. But he feels lighter, almost like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you. Geralt, I…" he stops himself, for once being the one unsure of what words to use.

"What time is it?" He settles on asking instead. He's beyond exhausted from all the crying and sharing of his feelings. All he wants is to crawl into bed and not return to the world for a few weeks. Maybe a few months.

"It's late. Or very early depending on how you look at it." Yennefer answers his question. Jaskier had almost forgotten she was still in the stable with them. "If we're done with this conversation for now I'm going to bed."

"Good choice. You need all the beauty sleep you can get." He tells her, trying not to smile.

"You're one to talk. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" she answers without hesitating.

"Darling, I'm beautiful and you know it." he says as he winks at her. He’s not sure he believes it himself anymore, but if he lies enough then maybe it could become the truth.

Yennefer doesn’t give him a reply. Instead she just starts walking out of the stable but stope and turns back to the bard and the witcher when she realizes they’re not behind her. “Come on you two. It’s time for bed.” she says and then she starts walking again. To Jaskier's surprise Geralt grabs him by the hand and starts following her.

Neither of them say anything as they walk through the halls of Kaer Morhen to get to their rooms. But for once Jaskier doesn't mind the silence. It isn't making his thoughts spiral down to dangerous places this time. If anything he finds it hard to think about anything at all. Though to be completely fair that could just have been a result of all the sleepless nights he’d suffered through lately.

After a while they reached the hallway with everyone's rooms and Geralt led Jaskier straight by the bard's room and didn't stop until they were in front of his own.

"Geralt… we're not at some inn where we have to share a room. I have my own here." Jaskier says, thinking that Geralt must be a lot more tired than he looks to make a mistake like this.

"Sorry, I was just…" Geralt started but trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say. For once Jaskier stayed quiet to allow the witcher to gather his thoughts.

A moment later Geralt sighed before he started talking again. "When we used to walk the path together it was hard not to notice that you always seemed to sleep better those nights we were forced to share a bed. So I figured that if we shared a bed… maybe you'd actually get to sleep again."

Whoever said witcher's were heartless creatures had obviously never spent more than a minute with them.

"Geralt… I… Are you sure about this?" he asks, remembering how during the first couple years Geralt would sleep on the floor if there was only one bed in the room they shared and how he'd very reluctantly had started sharing the beds eventually with a warning to the bard to stay on his own side of it.

"You're my friend, Jaskier. Friends help each other." Geralt answered as he opened the door and led them into the room.

What happened next wasn't Geralt's fault. Not really. Because Jaskier hadn't actually told him what had happened in Oxenfurt before he'd ended up in jail. But as soon as his eyes fell on the fire that was burning brightly in the fireplace opposite to the bed it suddenly felt like there was no air left in the room

Some part of him knew it was ridiculous, that he was safe in Kaer Morhen and that the fire couldn't hurt him unless he himself walked over there and put his hand into the flames. But he still couldn't stop the tremors in his hands or how he was suddenly hyperventilating, frozen in place where he stood, unable to take his eyes off the flames because all he could think about was being back in that chair.

Geralt steps in front of him, blocking the view of the fire. The witcher's mouth is moving, but Jaskier can't make out a single word, everything sounding as if he's under water and he was never good at reading lips.

"I… I can't… breathe…" he says, managing to choke out as he's hyperventilating. Suddenly his legs buckle underneath him, but Geralt is quick and catches him before he can crash to the ground. And instead he's gently lowered down to the floor. Geralt shifts around a little to get more comfortable before he brings his arms around Jaskier's waist to pull the bard up in his lap.

Not even thinking about it Jaskier buries his face in Geralt's chest just as the tears starts streaming from his eyes and with the uninjured hand he clutches the front of Geralt's shirt so hard he'd be worried it would somehow break the fabric if the panic wasn't still coursing through his body.

It takes a while, but eventually he starts calming down, breathing is getting easier and he can hear the words Geralt is saying to him. "It's alright. You're safe. Everything will be just fine." For a fleeting moment Jaskier wonders if this side of Geralt had always existed and he'd just never gotten to see it or if it's something he's learned over the months they were separated after the mountain.

"Sorry…" he says eventually, loosening his grip on Geralt's shirt, but making no attempt at leaving his lap. "I'm sorry." Sorry I'm such a mess. Sorry you had to see me like this. Sorry I'm no longer the person you used to know. There's a lot of things he feels like he should apologize for, but there will be more time for that later. He's too tired and exhausted right now to put his thoughts into words.

He's almost dozed off there in Geralt's lap when said man carefully nudges him and says his name. "I think we both would be a lot more comfortable in bed." Jaskier wants to say no, tell Geralt that he's plenty comfortable where he is right now. But the witcher does have a point.

Slowly he gets up from the other man's lap and makes his way towards the bed, removing his coat as he does and letting it fall to the floor before he lies down. His back turned towards the fire. If he can't see it, it can't hurt him either.

A moment later Geralt walks up to him and removes his shoes before he places them neatly by the bed. Then he picks up the discarded coat to hang it on a chair.

A little while later Jaskier can feel the mattress dip on the other side when Geralt gets in it and lies down beside him.

"Jaskier."

"Hmm."

"Is it okay if I ask what happened? I've never seen you react that way to anything before." he thinks about Geralt's question for a while. Part of him wants Geralt to know everything that's happened since the mountain. But there's another part of him that knows the witcher will feel guilty about the kidnapping and the torture if he finds out the truth.

"It was the fire that triggered it." he turns around and looks Geralt in the eyes before he continues speaking. "I'm sure you've seen the burns on my hand by now. But I'll tell you all about that some other day."

"I've seen them, yes. I'm sure Yen could help you with that."

Jaskier lets out a bitter laugh at that. "Yeah, well… I'm not exactly fond of magic anymore either. But it's not like I have my lute anymore, so it really doesn't matter."

"Jaskier…" Geralt starts, but whatever he was going to say never comes. Instead the witcher moves closer to him and puts one of his arms on his waist and pulls the bard close to him. At first Jaskier tenses up at this. This was never what they used to do when they had shared a bed on the path. But Geralt is warm and with his arm around him he actually feels safe for once so it doesn't take long before he shifts just a little to lie more comfortably before he lets all his guards down and relaxes.

They don't say anything more after that. It doesn't take long before Jaskier can feel himself starting to drift off. But before he does there is a knock on the door and Geralt lets out a displeased grunt. Whoever it was at the door opens it anyway.

"Yen? What are you doing here?" Geralt asks quietly.

"Sorry it's just…" she trails off and sighs before she starts speaking again. "I still can't fully control my powers when I'm tired and Jaskier was thinking so loudly a while ago that I just couldn't tune it out and… I guess I just couldn't sleep without seeing that he's okay." she answers honestly and just as quietly as Geralt had done, probably thinking the bard was asleep. "But I can see that he is so I'm just gonna go back to my own bed." She says.

Before she gets the chance to leave though, Jaskier stops her. "Stay." he says. He can't deny that he feels safe with her and the bed is big enough for all three of them if they really squeeze together.

"I'm sorry. What?" she asks, not quite believing what she's just heard.

"Stay." it's more of a mumble this time. Cause he's not really sure how much longer he'll actually be able to stay awake. "If Geralt doesn't mind."

"I don't mind." the witcher answers almost immediately. Jaskier can hear Yennefer closing the door before she walks over to the bed and lies down behind Jaskier. For a moment she just lies there, but eventually she moves closer and throws one arm and a leg over the bard and he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Jaskier knows that there's still a lot of things the three of them need to talk about and figure out, but laying there between the witcher and the mage Jaskier feels more safe than he ever has in his life and it doesn't take long before he drifts off into a deep sleep without any nightmares.

___________

Taglist (let me know if you want on/off it): @luteandsword and @seidenbros I'm tagging you this time since this is the fic I've shown you plenty of lines from

#The witcher #Jaskier #Dandelion #yennefer of vengerberg #Geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #viscount de lettenhove #The Witcher fic #Tellhound writes #Fic

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hanzajesthanza · 2 years

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i am 100% biased give me calanthe uwu

omg i got bingo again

"they are so cool looking": iconic emeralds look. i can't see an emerald green dress, an emerald tiara, emerald rings without thinking... it doesn't matter if it's a modern look or a setting-appropriate one, she has a trademark on that shade of green...

"they're deeper than they seem" + "didn't get enough screen time": i think the loss of pavetta is really overlooked by the fandom, but especially in how it affected calanthe. i think her depth is right there on the page, but it just gets overshadowed by the ciri as geralt's destiny and violent deaths and razing of cintra which take up all of the attention. and i think it's important to remember the vision geralt has in the sword of destiny of calanthe, battered and with arrows

a scene i would have liked to see is something like the razing of cintra written out, but in the last memoirs of calanthe before she leaps, in the same kind of manner that tissaia's last words were written in her letter in time of contempt. emhyr's recounting of what happened those years ago made it seem both emotionally distant and chronologically distant, and i think a flashback to calanthe in lady of the lake could contrast the account emhyr gives in ch 9, and remind the reader of the context...

"they work better as part of a dynamic": calanthe losing her mind over trying to protect pavetta is everything, and calanthe fiercely protecting little ciri... the order of events of calanthe immersing herself in research specifically to protect pavetta from the law of surprise, only to lose her because she didn't spend enough time with her and duny had an opportunity to work his way into her life and groom her, and from there having to live with this evil in her home, trying to save her, but she's already been lost... that shit is insane and i think it parallels geralt and ciri so much in terms of 'losing a daughter but she's already been lost to you for a while but it's your own fault but you didn't intend that' ...

and i dislike emhyr but i think calanthe is the contrast to him in so many ways, i enjoy the dynamic of her not allowing him to take an inch, re: what i said in the "didn't get enough screen time" portion, she's fiery (like ciri!) and loving, whereas emhyr is cold and calculating, almost detached. so it's good to see them interact for this reason

"they've never done anything wrong in their life": best queen. without her, we can see in blood of elves how all the other monarchs were lost. cintra was a beautiful place because of her work put into its economy and social relations. and in her personal relations, i think it's actually insane that some (coughs n*tflix) try to paint her as the bad guy for wanting to have duny executed. he was a creep show from the beginning...

here's where i would put, not "they were done dirty by the fans," but "they were done dirty by the author" because whenever i've read a question of price i think it's a big plot hole that geralt doesn't kick duny's ass... but we have to have our dramatic reveal at stygga i suppose so... but like... essentially... how can you read a question of price and not just yell at the book "she's RIGHT"...

i understand sapkowski leaves it for readers to make our own judgements but considering that it takes seven books to get an answer, i feel like the narrative should hate duny as much as is appropriate. at least this can be achieved in the audiodramas' portrayals of the characters

send me character opinion bingo now that i'm off hiatus (bingo post)

#c: calanthe #ask #ask memes #bookcalanthedaily

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marvellouslymadmim · 2 years

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18, 28, 40 ❤️❤️❤️

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

This passage from Ch 16 of A Night with the Queen:

“Say it,” [Eist] prompts again—he suddenly needs to hear it, to hear these words in her voice, from her lips, more than he’s needed any other promise before, in all his life. “Swear it, Calanthe—”

“I am—I will—yes, now and always.” She’s still panting and breathless, closing her eyes tightly and pushing into his touch again. “Now and always, my love, now and always. [...] I will stay. I am—here, with you. In Cintra, in Gemmera, in the desert or the mountains or the sea—I will be with you, now and always.”

The backstory is that originally, I didn't have Cal and Eist consummating their relationship until their wedding night, but those two horny idiots had vastly different plans, so this entire chapter was an unexpected detour. I knew we needed to have a moment prior to the wedding that would let us know that Eist knew Calanthe definitely wanted to marry him, because he simply isn't the type to trap her into it, and the show didn't give us the same moment as the book (where he asked her directly again and she agreed). But this promise (and the future surrounding it) also created an entirely new layer to their relationship: the idea that they had planned an entirely different life than the one we see them living in the pilot episode, and one that further cements exactly why Calanthe ends her own life: because she promised to always be where he was, and if he wasn't in this life anymore, then neither was she. So yeah, I broke my own heart even more. But it also lead the way for future (hitherto unseen) moments that will be quite wonderful. So...balance.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

This is actually a three-way tie. Circe from the Hackle Summer Trope Series: Softly and Tenderly We Begin (specifically Chaos Thy Name is Circe, Yule Thank Me Later, Into the Woods), because she's just a chaotic delight and it is so fascinating to write someone who presents as this kind of joyfully almost-naive prankster but is really just a damaged, tender thing. Also Visindra Tirre from Veiled Truths, because she's also such a delight of juxtapositions (and I kinda headcanon there may have been, at one point, Very Gay Feelings between her and Cal). Finally, Constance Connelly from Out of Africa and The Highwaymen. She was just fascinating all around and I loved getting to toe the "is she a villain, is she a hero, who is she, what is she, exactly?" line throughout her run.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

A favorite of mine. Good Bones, by Maggie Smith.

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

Ask me a Weird Writer Question.

#thanks babes #geerlynotgirly #asks #weird writer asks

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avatarskywalker78 · 9 months

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Six Sentence Sunday and there are two extracts for you today!!! First of all, one from my Angel & Riley story which I've recently gotten back to and which currently stands at over 9k words (this was intended to be short fic how did this happen). This is a few days after Riley's near death experience in 5x04 - which goes a little differently than in canon and Angel helped saved his life, which is a milestone in their relationship.

Things were still a little strained between them, but it was clear Riley was making an effort to unlearn a lot of things and genuinely seemed to want to spend time with him as well, so Angel would make the effort in return.

And it was…better than he thought it might be. It was clear that under it all Riley really was just a country boy, and he talked about his life in Iowa with such fondness…

But he was happy here. More so, now that the government were off his case and he and the Scoobies were starting to talk about things, but there was still that undercurrent of insecurity – and uncertainty, because as he told Angel over drinks one night, he’d wanted to become a soldier in order to protect people, and instead he’d been used and lied to and sometimes the real monsters were people. He was a military man without a military, because he didn’t trust them not to pull the same shit years down the line.

“I thought I knew what was right and what was wrong,” he’d said mournfully, “and now I don’t, and I can’t help but wonder how many lives I ruined because of what I was a part of, what I refused to question.”

“Good.” Angel had replied. “That’s a good sign, Riley, trust me. I know it’s not easy – believe me, I know – but you’re starting to make amends. You’re learning from Giles and planning to train with Buffy once your strength’s back up, and you’re not going to run blind into anything again.”

“I hope not, but…what if I do? What if I do something stupid and I don’t know how to fix it?”

“You pick yourself back up, and you try again.”

There's still a while to go because it turns out they have a lot to say.

The next extract is from chapter 3 of when a friendship is found (across the seas) - set in 1949, the morning after the banquet in Cintra, and Jaskier is getting to know Áine.

“I noticed, my dear Islander, that you didn’t seem at all fazed by the White Wolf.”

“That’s because I’ve never believed that Witchers are monsters. Besides,” she continued, her expression turning fond, “I’m friends with a Witcher myself.”

“You’re what?” Jaskier could hardly contain his excitement and wished he had his lute with him. “Oh, this I must hear, Áine – you’re friends with a Witcher.”

“Yup - have been for several months.”

“Who? How? What’s he like? Is he of the Wolf School? Do you think I could meet him?”

“That’s a lot of questions, Jaskier, but—”

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a familiar voice calling her name.

Jaskier is just about to find out she's Eist's kinswoman (and is utterly delighted by this fact).

#Six Sentence Sunday #Angel #Riley Finn #Angel & Riley #OC: Áine an Tordarroch #Jaskier #fic: when a friendship is found (across the seas)#the warrior the witcher the firebird and the bard

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

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Broken Heart

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Warnings: Language, grief, mourning death of loved one

Previous Chapter

Chapter 8-

When you finally reached the outskirts of Cintra, there were a group of knights fighting Yennefer and Ciri.

Two of them had Ciri pinned to the ground, while Yennefer tried to fight off a couple others with a... with a stick? Why the fuck was she using a stick to fight? That was a question for later.

You didn't give two shits about Yennefer, so you ran towards the ones holding Ciri instead.

Geralt took care of the ones by Yennefer, riding past on his horse and cutting their heads off with his sword while Yarpen and his men made quick work of the rest of the knights.

"Get off her!" You shouted, running towards Ciri.

The two men holding her quickly turned towards you. Their eyes narrowed in your direction from behind their helmet and the first one swung his own sword at you.

You easily blocked his blade with your own and kicked him in the stomach while he was exposed, sending the man to the ground before impaling your sword through his stomach.

Ciri quickly got to her feet, backing away from the other knight who you easily handled with a cut to the knee and then a swing to the head.

"Behind you!" Ciri suddenly shouted, pointing at something behind you.

You quickly spun around, your sword up and ready to find a knight charging at you, but Geralt decapitated him with his own sword before he could make a move.

Looking around, you very quickly realised that all the knights were dead.

Shit, that was one of the quickest fights ever.

You looked back over at Geralt who was breathing heavily and you knew it wasn't because he was out of breath, he was pissed.

Geralt was very, very angry.

Suddenly, Yennefer came running to the three of you, but Geralt quickly raised his sword, stopping her in an instant as the blade pressed against her neck.

You kept your sword in your hands, not taking your eyes off Yennefer, prepared to end her if she tried any of her magic to try and escape.

"How could you do this?" Geralt asked, his voice strong and demanding.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's a little too late for fucking apologies." You said bluntly, sheathing your sword.

If she was going to try and escape, she would have done it by now.

"Yarpen and his men will get you out of here. Jaskier?" Geralt called out, looking from Ciri over to the bard. "Take her to Kaer Morhen. Ciri and Y/N know the way."

Hold on, what?

"No. No, I'm staying with you." Ciri quickly said, shaking her head.

"You can't."

"Why? Where are you going?" The girl asked, worriedly.

Geralt looked back at Yennefer, his sword still against her neck.

"To slay a monster." He answered, turning back to Ciri. "I'll be with you soon, I promise."

Ciri stared at him for a moment before reluctantly nodding, "alright."

You watched as Ciri started to walk back to the horses as Jaskier held her hand out towards her in a greeting.

"The Child Surprise, I've heard so much about-" He started to say, but Ciri just walked straight past him without a word. "Like father, like daughter."

"The girl. Yours?" Yarpen questioned, looking over at Geralt.

"Mine." Geralt growled, stepping closer to Yennefer as he glared down at her. "Mine, Zigrin."

The man nodded, glancing over at you and motioning towards the horses, silently asking if you were coming with them.

"Geralt-" You began to say, but he cut you off already knowing what you were going to ask.

"Go back to Kaer Morhen. Stay with, Ciri."

"I'm not leaving you."

He sighed, glancing over at you with almost pleading eyes.

"Y/N, please."

"Okay." You reluctantly nodded. "Yennefer? You try anything with him and I will put my sword through your cold dead heart."

You glared at the mage for a moment, letting your words sink in before you turned around and walked back to the horses with Yarpen.

You climbed onto the back of the horse cart with Jaskier and few of Yarpens men. Ciri taking Geralts new horse as you started the journey back to Kaer Morhen.

"He'll be okay." Jaskier whispered, noticing your worry.

Yennefer was still a mage, with or without her damn powers. If she does something to him and you're not there... you'd never forgive yourself.

Jaskier reached across, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently.

"Y/N, he's the great, Geralt of Rivia. He'll be fine, okay?"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, "yeah. I know."

God, you hoped he was right.

You parted ways from Yarpen and his men when you close to their camp, saying your goodbyes and thank yous for their help.

Eventually, you, Jaskier and Ciri finally reached Kaer Morhen and dismounted the horses, tying them up in the stables.

"So, this is your home?" Jaskier asked in astonishment as he looked up at the tall stone building. "And, uh, how many of you Witchers are here?"

"Welcome to Kaer Morhen and there's not many... not anymore." You replied, looking away from him as you thought of your brother.

Eskel and Jaskier would've gotten along great... or would have killed each other, there was no in-between.

"Her brother twin brother died a few weeks ago." Ciri said quietly from behind you, probably meaning for only Jaskier to hear, but you were a Witcher, you had better hearing than most.

"What?!" Jaskier gasped in shock before he jogged the remaining distance to you, resting his hand on your shoulder gently. "Y/N... I am so sorry. I had no idea."

You sighed, looking down at the ground, willing the tears in the back of your eyes to go away.

"It's okay. Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone." You said, putting on a brave smile as you turned to face him.

Jaskier stared at you for a moment, knowing your smile was fake, but he didn't call you out on it and simply nodded.

"I would be honoured to meet your fellow Witchers." He said and with that, the three of you made your way inside.

As you suspected, most of the Witchers were in the cafeteria eating and drinking, but they all stopped talking when you walked through the door.

"Well, look who's finally fucking back!" Lambert shouted, walking across the room, glancing at Jaskier for a moment before deciding that he wasn't a threat and hugged you.

You smiled, hugging Lambert back before he pulled away, frowning at the cut on your forehead before he turned back to Jaskier.

"This is Jaskier. He's a good friend of mine and Geralts. You can trust him." You quickly reassured as Lambert eyed the bard cautiously before he nodded. "Jaskier, this is Lambert."

"Pleasure to meet you." Jaskier nodded, holding his hand out as Lambert shook it before you introduced all the others.

Ciri declared that she was going to bed early, not even finishing her supper before she disappeared out the cafeteria.

You didn't blame her though, she had been through a lot. She was just a kid and had been through so much already, she deserved to get a good nights sleep at the very least.

"So, this mage tried to give Ciri to Voleth Meir?" Vesemir asked, walking across the room towards you.

You looked over at the older Witcher cautiously, unsure of how he was going to react considering last time you saw him, you had a sword to his neck.

"Apparently. Geralt is dealing with the mage now." You answered carefully and Vesemir nodded.

"Look, Y/N, I'm sorry for-"

"I know." You said, cutting him off. "But, I'm not the one you should be apologising to."

Vesemir sighed, but nodded, knowing you were right.

You knew the older man had good intentions. He wanted to create more Witchers since there were so few of you left, you understood that. But, at the same time you were still furious at him for trying to give Ciri the mutagen.

"Stay for a drink?" You offered, looking over at Vesemir who shook his head.

"I might go to bed." He replied, giving you a gentle smile. "Thank you though."

You watched as he walked off before you turned to Jaskier who was watching him too.

"So, is he like your dad or something?" He asked in confusion. "He's the only old person here."

You chuckled softly, pouring yourself a drink of ale from the jug Lambert had given you.

"He was the last Witcher to survive the attack on Kaer Morhen. The rest of us were just kids, we saw everyone get murdered, the whole massacre and Vesemir saved us. He raised all us, taught us how to be Witchers."

"Wow, okay. I was not expecting your answer to be so... depressing." Jaskier responded causing you to roll your eyes as he grabbed his own cup and filled it, taking a giant gulp. "I'm gonna need a drink if we're talking about this."

"We don't have to talk about this. It's in the past. We're alive... well, some of us still are."

Jaskiers expression dropped as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I am truly sorry about, Eskel." He said, looking over at you sadly.

"You're right. I am not having this conversation sober." You declared, trying to might light of the situation as you took a sip of your own drink, trying to focus on the burn as it ran down your throat.

You were not going to have this conversation.

Hell, you and Geralt had barely spoken about it.

You killed your own brother... you killed him to save Vesemir and Geralts life and you hated yourself for it. Not for saving Vesemir and Geralt, you were glad they were both okay, but... what you did to your twin... it should have been you that died. Eskel was the best out of all of you. He had a heart of gold, he didn't deserve to go out that way. It should have been you.

"Y/N-"

"It's fine. Well, it's not. But, I don't want to talk about it. I-I can't talk about him, not yet."

Jaskier nodded in understanding, "that's okay. But, when you're ready, you can talk to me about it."

You smiled softly at him, "how did I get such a good friend?"

"I am a good friend, aren't I? Possibly the best even, if I do say so myself. I mean who else would travel across half the damn Continent with two Witchers for years and write wonderful songs about them? I, my dear lady, am one of a kind." Jaskier rambled on causing you to chuckle, shaking your head.

"You are a great friend, Jaskier, but also an idiot."

His eyes widened, as he overdramatically gapped at you in disbelief.

"An idiot? Me? I most certainly am not."

"What about the time you slept with the barkeeps niece and he found out?"

He winced, thinking back to that day, "that was a once of incident."

"It happened again a week later. Remember? I had to stop her uncle from killing you."

"And I thanked you dearly for that after we got the hell out of town." He responded, taking another drink of his ale.

Suddenly, you heard Coen cheer from across the room and you turned around just in time to watch Merek throw a jug of ale at him.

"Don't waste it, you fucking moron!" Lambert shouted, hurriedly standing the jug up, saving the little alcohol left inside. "Just because Coen bet you in an arm wrestle, doesn't mean you have to punish the rest of us."

You and Jaskier both laughed as Coen wiped the ale from his face while Lambert chugged the rest of it from the jug.

"Your family is fun. I like them." Jaskier commented from beside you. "But, by the Gods, can they hold their alcohol. This stuff is strong."

"Lambert makes it himself. He makes it a lot stronger than usual."

"Of course, because normal ale isn't strong enough, right?" Jaskier asked sarcastically.

"Not for Witchers, no." You responded, glancing back at Jaskier who just rubbed his face with his hands and shook his head.

You went to reach for your drink when you noticed something on his right hand, causing you to freeze. Without thinking, you reached across the table and grabbed his hand, holding his palm up to get a better look at it.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's an old scar." Jaskier quickly said, his heart suddenly beating faster as he tried to pull his hand away. "Really, Y/N, it's nothing-"

"That's not an old scar. Who did this to you?" You asked, staring at the still healing burn on his hand.

"Some mage with fire." Jaskier sighed, giving up trying to free his hand, knowing you were more than strong enough to stop him. "He, uh, kidnapped me... tortured me."

Your eyes widened as everything started to piece together.

"That's what Yennefer meant when she said that you got into some trouble in Oxenfurt and she saved your life." You said in realisation and Jaskier nodded. "Come on, we got stuff here that can heal that."

You stood up, letting go of his hand as Jaskier quickly grabbed the closest bottle of ale before he followed you out the cafeteria.

You lead Jaskier down the dark hallways, ignoring his comments about how creepy this place was at night before you walked into the armoury.

New swords and armour covered the walls as you walked further into the room where all the potions and elixirs were.

"So, uh, how do you know which potion does what? They all look the same, just different colours." Jaskier said, breaking the silence as he stared at all the bottles on the bench.

"I just know. After years of using them, you get used to which is which." You shrugged, grabbing the vial of white honey. "This will help with the healing. This is a lower dose, the normal dosage would kill a human. This won't kill you though, I promise, although it will make you sleepy. Is that okay?"

Jaskier nodded, "of course. But, only if you take one too. No offence, but that gash on your forehead does not look pretty."

"Fine. Just drink it." You said, holding one out to him before you took another.

"Ew. That tastes worse than a horses faeces." He exclaimed, quickly opening his bottle of ale to wash away the white honey taste.

"And how would you know what horses faeces taste like?" You asked in amusement.

"Shut up."

You just laughed as the two of you walked out the armoury and showed him to the spare bedroom across the hall from yours.

"Get some sleep and prepare for a bad hangover in the morning." You said, opening the bedroom door.

"I haven't drunk that much. I'll be fine." He brushed off and you just shrugged your shoulders.

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Goodnight, Jaskier."

"Night, Y/N." He replied, stepping into the room before you turned around and disappeared into your own bedroom.

After taking off your armour and leaning your sword against the wall, you collapsed on top of your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You laid there for what felt like ages, hoping that Geralt was okay while your mind drifted back to your twin brother.

Images of his dead body flashed before your eyes and you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks at the memory.

A soft sob escaped your lips and you quickly covered your mouth with your hands, not wanting Jaskier to hear from across the hall. Silent tears trickled down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing more than anything that Eskel was here.

You curled up into a ball, hugging your knees to your chest as you tried to forget the feeling of your sword piercing through his heart, but you couldn't.

Your hands shook as they tightened around your knees, unable to stop the memories from washing over you.

A small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you needed to calm down. You were working yourself up, but you couldn't help it as the tears continued to fall.

Eskel was dead.

He was dead. There was no coming back and it was your fault.

It was all your fault.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear your bedroom door open. Hell, you didn't even hear the person call your name until a hand touched your shoulder.

The sudden contact caused you to flinch as you blinked away tears to find Lambert hovering over you worriedly.

Shit.

He must have heard you crying.

Damnit, stupid Witchers and enhanced hearing.

"I'm fine." You quickly reassured, hating how broken your voice sounded.

"Well, that's horse shit." Lambert muttered, sitting down on the edge of your bed. "Did that bard do something-"

"No. No. Jaskier... Gods, he wouldn't hurt a fly." You replied, sniffing as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

This wasn't the first time Lambert had seen you cry, but you still hated it.

Being the only female Witcher, you were constantly trying to prove yourself. Your brothers were great, but you knew they sometimes pulled their punches whenever you were sparring and worried more whenever you got hurt. It wasn't their fault, you were a Witcher, but they still saw you as their little sister. Which was why you hated being weak in front of them, like right now.

Lambert sighed, "I miss Eskel too."

Those simple words were enough to bring the tears flooding back down your face despite how hard you tried to stop them.

"I-I killed- I killed him."

Lamberts expression hardened as he looked away from you, staring at the wall across the room.

"I know... you didn't have a choice though." He whispered and you knew he was fighting back tears as well.

"But, I did it and I can't stop seeing it. I-I can't get it out my head, I can't..." You trailed off unable to finish that sentence as a broken sob escaped your lips.

You rolled away from him, not wanting Lambert to see your cry.

For the longest moment, neither of you said anything. Lambert remained sitting on the edge of your bed while you laid there, your back facing him.

"You can leave. I'm fine. I'll be fine." You mumbled, knowing he must regret walking into your room.

Lambert wasn't the emotional type. He never talked about his feelings, he'd rather punch away his feelings than sit and talk about them, so you knew this must be awkward for him.

"Look, I know I'm not like Geralt or Eskel. Those two always knew what to say in situations like this... they're better at dealing with emotions. But, uh, I'm here if you if you want to talk."

Slowly, you sat yourself up and looked over at him, taking in his sad teary eyes.

You weren't the only one who lost Eskel. Lambert loved him like a brother and lost him too.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

God, you were being so stupid. You weren't the only one mourning Eskel, yet you were the only one unable to control your emotions.

You were better than this.

"Sorry? Sis, you got nothing to be sorry for." Lambert responded, looking down at you in confusion.

"You lost Eskel too. You all did, but I'm the only one-"

"Don't." Lambert said, cutting you off. "You were his twin sister. I know how much you cared about him because I know how much he cared about you. He'd be proud of you, Y/N."

You shook your head, "I killed him. He'd hate me. I hate me. You should hate me!"

"I could never hate you and neither would Eskel." He said, reaching down and grabbing your hand. "You saved Geralt and Vesemir's lives. He would be glad it was you and I know that's not fair, but what you did... he'd be proud."

Silent tears continued to fall down your cheeks, but you didn't bother wiping them away.

"Get some sleep, sis." He whispered, squeezing your hand before he stood up. "Do you want me to stay? I can sleep in the chair or something, I've slept in worse places before."

"No, it's okay. You can go."

Lambert nodded, giving you a small smile before he started to walk out the room.

"Lambert?"

"Yeah?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

"I love you like a sister and I'm always here for you. But, if you tell anyone about this little heart to heart-" He started to threaten before you cut him off.

"Nobody will hear about your soft side, I promise." You chuckled causing him to smile. "Goodnight."

"Night, Y/N."

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #the Witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #henry cavill #jaskier #eskel #lambert

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