#in which renfri comes to the witchers for help killing stregobor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchersgoldenbard · 2 years

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If you haven’t already answered a question about the breakfast club wip i would love to know more!!!!

oooh, that one was one of the first witcher fics i had started way back when, while watching the breakfast club. i only have the beginning (as per usual..) of it, but still strongly love the vibes and hope to continue at some point bc this fandom needs a berakfast club au. it's a classic, but there's still none?? a crime.

Geralt: the quiet, brooding guy who gives zero fucks about school or what people think of him Jaskier: the loud, cheery theatre kid who runs his mouth before he thinks, a bit feral sometimes Yennefer: the insanely pretty mean girl who hates popular kids Triss: the Princess, a popular kid who’s actually very kind and likes to help but peer pressure prevents it Renfri: nerd who likes to get into people’s business, ace

they're all there for detention, stregobor sucks. it's definitely geraskier and probably yenntriss because renfri is just judging them all and simply hoping for this day to be over before they can decide to kill stregobor the next time he enters the library.

you can... have the entirety of the beginning, which is everyone's introduction in true breakfast club style. but it's 1.5k words and splitting it up would make no sense.

Saturday, 13 March 1999. Temeria High. 6:56 am.

A silver BMW is parked in front of the school, the engine still running. Triss Merigold is staring at the abandoned building in front of her. Never before has she seen it so deserted, and never again does she wish to see it this early on a Saturday morning. She sighs in trepidation and turns back to her dad who is smiling at her in an almost patronising way. As always.

“I can’t believe you can’t get me out of this,” she sighs, looking back at the building. She finds that she doesn’t mind it as much as her father’s condescending patience. “It’s so absurd I have to be here on a Saturday.”

Her father turns in his seat to face her and she looks back at him. “I’ll make it up to you,” he grins, and she refrains from rolling her eyes. Of course he will. Of course he didn’t listen to a word she said. Of course he never even asked why she has to be here in the first place. Merely jumped at the opportunity to take her here and pick her up this afternoon before her mother could get a single word in.

Triss isn’t stupid. She knows her father doesn’t care about her so much as he cares about getting back at her mother. Another proof for how he will take every chance to get into Triss’s good graces is the bag of expensive sushi he presses into her hands now. They never actually make food at her house, and Triss is beginning to despise it.

She takes it and doesn’t even bother to fake a smile.

“Have a good day,” her father says like he doesn’t know, doesn’t even care about where they currently are. Detention. De-fucking-tention! Nobody here will have a good day. She wants to scream at him, wants him to listen to his own words – but it would be no use. Her mother has tried. She has tried. All he did was smile.

So she doesn’t scream. Doesn’t say a word. Only rolls her eyes and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her and not turning back to wave. Her dad wouldn’t check if she did anyway.

She exhales and summons all her strength. Right. Detention. Let’s do this.

****

Another car, red this time, pulls up on the empty parking lot before the school. The atmosphere here is just as tense as in the one before.

“I this the first time or the last time that we do this?” Renfri’s mother asks venomously before the car even comes to a stop.

Renfri clenches their jaw and breathes deeply, looking at the building instead of their mother. They don’t want to face her piercing eyes, her commanding tone, anything. They just want to survive the day and get this over with.

“The last,” Renfri murmurs, still not meeting mother’s eyes.

“Well, get in there and use the time to your advantage,” she demands. That woman has no idea how the real world works anymore.

Renfri rolls their eyes and looks up. “Mom, we’re not supposed to study in there. We just have to sit there and do nothing, you know?”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Well, missy, you figure out a way to study!” Her tone books no room for discussion, and Renfri doesn’t bother. Doesn’t try to correct her either. Just sits there and tries not to reach out and punch their mother in the face. It’s a close call, this early on a Saturday morning.

“Well, go!” she calls, and Renfri does. Feeling miserable and misunderstood and godsfucking tired. They should have brought coffee. Or a whole machine, rather. Fuck. This day already sucks.

****

Behind the red car, a brown SUV comes to a stop. Within it, a tense silence. Vesemir isn’t looking at him, but Geralt knows that even if he were, there would be no judgment in them. Disappointment, maybe. Annoyance at having to be here once more on a Saturday morning. But no anger, no judgment.

“Let’s not do this again next week,” his old man grunts with a hint of resignation that tells Geralt he’s very well prepared to be in this exact same spot this time next week. It almost makes him smile.

Almost. Instead, he grunts. “Hm.”

Geralt doesn’t give a single flying fuck about school and grades and detention. He just wants to finally be done with it all so that he can work full-time in Vesemir’s garage like his brothers already do. His family knows that, and they are patient with him.

He brings home passing grades, sometimes even more than passing, and he aces shop. Stays out of trouble as far as he can, but he knows that some teachers just have it out for him. One, because he’s a Rivia, and everyone’s still traumatised by Lambert. Two, because he’s apparently intimidating and the assholes they employed here want to take him down before he can become dangerous, or something.

“Geralt,” Vesemir says, and he meets his eyes. A beat. “Try not to get in trouble.”

“Hm.”

Again, it’s not like he tries to get in trouble. It’s just that trouble usually finds him.

“Want me to pick you up after?”

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ll walk.”

It’s not a long way to the garage, and this way he also gets a chance to cool off, as he so often needs after pointless detention. Maybe, if he’s in good spirits, he’ll pick up some late lunch or early dinner on his way, bring some for the rest of his family.

It’s a comforting thought.

Vesemir reaches over to clap his shoulder, neither of them men for a lot of words. “Have a good day, kid.”

Geralt huffs at the sarcasm in his old man’s voice and rolls his eyes. “Hm. You, too. Saturday morning customers are known for their patience.”

Vesemir groans. “Maybe I’ll put Lambert on front desk duty, then. Will teach them a lesson.”

“And him,” Geralt agrees.

“And him.”

Grabbing his lunch bag, Geralt opens the door and exits the car, though he is careful not to slam it shut. He scowls at the familiar picture of the deserted school building glowing in the light of the rising sun.

Let’s get the over with.

****

The lone boy approaching the school has nobody to bring him, but he favours the crisp air of early spring to the confinement of a car full of people who will judge him. He doesn’t care about walking or the early morning hours – they are the least of his worries. All he cares about is the music coming through his earphones. It’s the third time this morning that he listens to Come On Eileen, and he needs the energy of this song to survive this day. It’s working, so far.

Lost in his music and the general apprehension of this whole day and every one that would follow, Jaskier doesn’t even care about the approaching blue car that almost hits him if it wasn’t for that slight side-step he does in tune with the song. Shame, really. Maybe being hit by a car would have got him out of a whole day of detention.

Come on Eileen, tah-loo-rye-aye

I say, too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye-ay

What a great song to be hit by a car to. Maybe next time.

****

Yennefer steps out of the car, sparing a passing glance at the boy they just almost hit. Her parents ignored him just like they always ignore her. She idly wonders what would have happened if they’d hit him – the boy never even faltered. Just keeps walking with his stupid headphones on. She wonders what he’s listening to. Considers stealing his Walkman or his headphones. But he doesn’t strike her as popular enough for her attentions.

After all, she doesn’t bully loners.

Without a single word or even a backwards glance through the rear-view mirror, her father takes off again, not even acknowledging her existence. She tries not to let it get to her.

She fails. As always.

Swallowing down the lump that has been forming in her throat ever since she was born, Yennefer follows the boy with the misplaced spring in his step to the front door and into the library. Artificial, blaring light hits her and she can already feel the headache coming on. The fluorescent tubes in the ceiling are doing nothing to wake her up and only increase her already bad mood.

Three rows of tables are set out in the middle of the library. She takes a seat in the second one, wanting to be in the middle of the action – because of course there will be action. She’ll make sure of that if she needs to.

ask me about my wips

#geraskier #yenntriss #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #triss merigold #nat rambles #wip game #OH HEY CHECKING MY NOTES AGAIN IT'S BEEN A WHOLE FUCKING YEAR SINCE I STARTED THAT KSJDHS i have a problem #sorry i am too lazy to format this one with the indents bc that #is a few too many paragraphs for me to manually edit out the weird space tumblr decides to put between them so. have this #breakfast club au #man i really gotta watch the movie again. i need this au in my life

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witcherislovewitcherislife · 2 years

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Rereading The Last Wish: The Lesser Evil

(read on 12/22/2021)

The story starts with Geralt wandering into Blaviken after slaying a kikimora. He immediately gathers interest from locals, as well as makes a child cry and cats run off just from his presence. Right away you feel sympathy for Geralt, knowing that he has to deal with this everywhere he goes time and time again.

We meet Caldemeyn who greets Geralt warmly. It's always nice to see someone that respects Geralt. The trend of "higher class" characters having more respect for Geralt continues. We also meet Stregobor who is just a right prick. I do love his illusions and physical description though.

Stregobor goes into great detail about the Curse of the Black Sun and how he thinks all the murders he helped commit were justified. This is also where we get the infamous "Evil is evil" quote which is absolutely perfect every time I read it. This is an interesting chapter, we see the depths someone will sink to out of fear, Stregobor had no problem killing children because he viewed it as the lesser evil. But Geralt doesn't feel the same, he would rather not choose at all.

Then we meet Renfri and get her side of the story. This is one of those classic Witcher events that doesn't have a right or wrong side and forces the reader to come up with their own conclusion of what is and isn't justified. Both parties have committed atrocities and both sides justify them in various ways. Stregobor and Renfri also both propose the same offer to Geralt, that he kill the other as the lesser evil. He refuses both of them and Renfri tells him what will happen, that he can't choose but will be forced to nonetheless and it will leave him alone.

Renfri initially agrees to leave town although the next morning, while speaking with the alderman, Geralt realizes that she has deceived him and that she is going to force him to either sit idly by as her band slaughters people or step in and stop them.

Against the alderman's wishes, Geralt goes to the marketplace and kills Renfri and her band of thugs. I will say, one thing I wasn't a big fan of in this story was the action, it was quite hard for me to tell what was actually going on and how the battle was playing out. It was at least clear that Geralt was inhumanly strong and fast and was winning very handily. Renfri's vision became truth as the townspeople, unaware that Geralt had actually saved them, began pelting him with stones before the Alderman came and ordered Geralt to leave Blaviken and never come back.

If is so interesting seeing Geralt and Renfri interact in this story. They mirror each other in a lot of ways but they deal with the hatred inflicted upon them in very different ways. The ambiguity of this story is brilliant as well, as Renfri does not truly know if she isn't just cursed and evil. Her not even truly knowing herself is super fascinating and leaves the reader as confused as she is about her true self.

This is one of those stories that warrants numerous rereads and it is always compelling. The whole concept of evil is dove into deeply and it offers many interesting questions. In the end, Geralt did choose the lesser evil, against his will, even though it meant him becoming vilified and ruined his reputation amongst many. I would suggest reading this story for yourself. I'm going to look for some further analysis myself as well.

9/10

Sidenote: this was adapted in episode one of the Netflix series. I think they did a solid job overall but definitely missed some key moments. On the show, it didn't make sense to me why Geralt wouldn't take Renfri's side, this is mainly because they leave out the part that states what Renfri will have to do to kill Stregobor, which will involve slaughtering guards and townsfolk to force Stregobor from his tower.

The alderman is also left out of the episode even though I feel he is a pretty important part of the story, his exclusion takes away the fact that Geralt was respected by at least some folks in this town. Also, Renfri has immunity from the King which prevents the alderman from arresting her. Leaving this out kind of makes Geralt look stupid for not just telling the guards.

The action was certainly done better on the show though, that battle still might be the best one on the show!

#the witcher #the last wish #the lesser evil #geralt of rivia #renfri #stregobor #my thoughts

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valdomarx · 3 years

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A little witcher!Renfri stocking stuffer for @jaskicr for the @thewitchersecretsanta event. [CW for violence and mentions of abuse.] Happy holidays! <3

Renfri has always been a survivor.

She travels alone for years, taking on what work she can to live. She cheats and steals and kills as she needs to. She makes no apology for this.

She takes a job to assassinate a lord who uses his position to abuse the women and girls of his estate. The women of the village can’t offer her much, but she’d do this one for free. While she’s slitting his throat, a stranger emerges from the shadows. The newcomer has two blades, yellow cat-like eyes, and a smile that’s all danger.

“Oh,” the woman says. “I see you’ve completed my job. Too bad. No great loss though.”

Renfri takes to her immediately. She splits what little coin the job paid with her and shares a drink with her at the nearest tavern. The woman goes by the name of Dragonfly, and she tells Renfri of a place which trains women as Witchers.

Renfri has heard tales of the School of the Cat, but she’d thought they were merely legends. She’s heard they are fearless killers, fast and agile. Her curiosity outweighs her reticence.

“You could join us,” Dragonfly offers.

“I’m an outcast,” Renfri says.

“Then you’ll fit right in,” the woman says.

“I’m a monster,” Renfri admits, and the woman shrugs.

“Aren’t we all?” she asks, arms spread wide. “That’s what they call women once they’re done breaking us.”

The Caravan takes her in. They train her. She is already a fine swordswoman and a capable poisoner. But the Cats teach her other skills: the laying of traps, the making of bombs, the use of a secondary blade to strike at opponents’ weak points. She learns voraciously.

She flourishes there, among the outcasts. Eventually, she hears of others like her, born under the Black Sun. She wonders if they are as lost as she once was. She wonders if she could help them. She determines to find out.

She succeeds in finding them, one at a time. These women are hard, like her, tempered into fighters. But they also have grace, and empathy. They understand her in a way no one ever has before.

She invites them to come with her to the Caravan and to be trained. Most take her up on her offer.

There’s Syanna, raven of hair and a temper to match. Fialka, sweet and gentle until anyone is foolish enough to corner her. Deidre, who’d grown up among witchers, skilled with a blade and sharp with her tongue.

They are her sisters. They are her army. She need never rely on the kindness of men again.

When she meets a Wolf in Blaviken, she’s thankful that the Cat trials failed to enhance her eyesight. She doesn’t have the amber eyes of their kind and can pass as a human. Just as well, for she well knows the animosity that exists between Wolves and Cats.

His name is Geralt, and he has a kind heart beneath his hard exterior. She buys him breakfast and tells him a carefully edited version of her life story. He looks at her with a mixture of respect and pity. She hates pity.

She tells him she has tracked down the man responsible for her pain to here, Blaviken. She tells him she will put an end to it. He is distressed, tries to talk her out of it.

It’s sweet that he wants to save her.

It’s funny that he thinks he can stop her.

She takes him to bed and lets him please her for a night. When they are done, she slips a sleeping draught into a cup of water and offers it to him.

The next morning, he slumbers on. She rides out to meet her sisters. They welcome her with open arms and fierce hearts.

Stregobor will pay for what he’s done to them.

#jaskicr #thewitchersecretsanta #renfri #the witcher #my writing #LADY WITCHERS!! A CONCEPT!!

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kaer-cuan · 4 years

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Handler, Mage, and Witcher (or, 3 heads are better for monster hunting than one- a concept)

Monster hunting is what Witchers are built for, but everyone knows Witchers are more or less monsters themselves. They're like hunting dogs, they have to be led. So they're partnered to sorcerers or sorceresses, and to keep them BOTH in line a human is selected to be their conscience and guide them on the attack, and be their go between to make sure they get paid. Usually the human is one of the boys selected to not go through the trials, raised around hunting trios, but once in a while surprises come along.

So Geralt gets double mutated and is just stupidly overpowered as far as Witchers go, which means they KNOW they have to get a strong mage to link him to. So they see Yennefer, who's a massive headache and wants power and won't behave like a good little pawn, and she gets shipped off to get pair bonded to a Witcher almost immediately after her ascension. They're a nightmare on and off the field, incredibly hard to control because Yenn keeps trying to butt into human politics and Geralt's by turns horrified by his own strength and just really wants to kill things since he has no outlet for the emotions he's sure he's not supposed to have. They go through human handlers fast, because Yenn's opinionated and Geralt's massive and hard to manage.

Eventually, they have a human handler who takes them to Blaviken. Geralt, like most Witchers, has to wear a cage muzzle out in public, and Renfri stops to talk to him like he's a Real Person. Yenn comes back and they have a nice little chat, and then their human takes them to Strogoshit, and oh no, Geralt's new friend is now a target because their human has no issue choosing at ALL.

Geralt is horrified and desperately begs Yenn to do LITERALLY ANYTHING about this, please, and Yenn thinks about it for five seconds and kills their human, so instead Renfri becomes a Witcher handler and oh, dear, things have just gotten bad for Stregobor because Yennefer does not take kindly to the Brotherhood who sent her to be a puppet. Yennefer has Renfri cut her from her leash to Geralt, kills Stregobor, and comes back with a smile. No more Stregobor problem.

Renfri doesn't really want to be a Witcher handler, so she just kind of wanders around with them for a few years as she tries to figure out what to do with the rest of her life, and they wind up in Posada.

Renfri takes one look at this dumbass bard in the corner and is like "Perfect, I'm gonna lose you in a card game, Yenn will have him wrapped around her little finger by dinner."

Which is great, except for one small tiny detail, which is that Jaskier then immediately takes the demon contract. Renfri, watching this, is just like "..............that did not just happen. what. no. oh no."

Jaskier, who now has the leashes "oh but it did! LET'S GO FIND A DEMON!!!"

They get out of town and Jaskier immediately stops them to take Geralt's muzzle off and look at him properly, and Geralt has no idea what to do when Jaskier immediately starts fussing over him from where it's dented into his face, and is just looking at Yenn like ?????? help me.

Yenn thinks this is both stupid and hilarious. Renfri, jogging after them, is mostly just here to see what nonsense goes down.

They meet the "demon" and immediately all get captured, and Yenn's just like "well today was stupid enough anyway, this might as well happen.” They meet Filavandrel, Geralt growls out that he's not human and shouldn't be treated like one, Yenn says she damn well isn't human either fuck you very much, Renfri's just like "i'm technically human but only technically and also you are VERY hot, heeeeyyyyy" and Jaskier is having some sudden determined feelings about being The Best Witcher Handler Ever because holy shit these guys are depressing.

Renfri stays to hunt down people for Filavandrel and keep the elves safe (and also probably get spectacularly laid and made a queen after all, whoops) and Jaskier gets his new lute and a newfound sense of determination.

Jaskier starts his Actually Witchers Have Feelings propaganda songs and Yenn's just like "...... you could make some good political moves out of this" and starts egging him towards going to courts and taking bigger contracts. Unfortunately Jaskier desperately does not want to go to court because he's terrified his parents will find him and drag him back home to be a good little heir. And he doesn't really know any of the commands or anything, or how to behave when they meet other witcher sets, and is generally kind of a huge mess.

Meanwhile Geralt's having an identity crisis because Jaskier is treating him like a Real Person and oh, fuck, has he been a Real Person this entire time???? Yennefer has treated him like a Real Person but Yennefer is also a sorceress and his partner and therefore doesn't really count (Yennefer, deadpan: Gee thanks Geralt) and Renfri treated him like a real person but Renfri is Renfri and also doesn’t count, except that she totally does, and ohhhh no!!!!!

Yenn and Geralt have also been fucking for years because no one ELSE is gonna get them laid and Jaskier is very wide eyed and into this and the second he tentatively makes a move, being sure he's nowhere near the leashes, they exchange one look and decide to wreck him. So that gets going Real Quick.

They get back to Kaer Morhen for winter, which houses ALL the remaining Witcher teams and was never torn down. There's the Witcher contingent in general, and it's only what different mutagens you were given that clarify your class instead of being totally separate schools.

Jaskier is veeerrry uncomfy with how people treat Geralt since Geralt's supposedly meant to be all big and mostly feral and even more uncomfy when he finds out Geralt has to leave his muzzle on most of the time even at home. So he promptly goes about taking Geralt with him to the library to nap in front of the fire on his lap, or doing his hair in braids, or cooing at him publicly. Geralt can in fact blush and does, regularly.

Yenn in the meantime helps him learn how to behave like a Handler should, and has some quiet words with some of the other bonded pair sorcerers and sorceresses, and subtle changes start happening.

When they get back on the path life carries on like normal, but Jaskier decides to get over himself and start going to court to get bigger contracts and more power, because he wants to give the Witchers and the bonded mages a bit more freedom and eventually break the handler system.

That’s basically it. Geralt muzzled and leashed, Yenn leashed and faking that that even matters, and Jaskier just way too horny for what happens when he tells Geralt to fetch and when Yenn laughs at him.

I am Not Thinking about Eskel being sad so we're pretending he has a good human handler and is paired with Triss and they're very happy together. And because I want the disaster trio together, Aiden’s the handler, Coen’s the mage, and Lambert is still (sorry Lambert) the Witcher in that trio.

This also has much more monstery Witchers. Really really obvious fangs, super sharp long nails that have to be trimmed constantly, slightly pointed ears, they move just a little wrong. Geralt's white hair has been aggressively cut off so people didn't have to care for it until Renfri, who just let it grow. Jaskier not only lets it grow, he meticulously tends to it and lets Yennefer grow her hair out long too and is very attached to bathing his hard working pair and caring for them. Yennefer was a little iffy on him right up until he picked up a rag and started carefully cleaning her hands and then bought oils to work into Geralt's scars to help them heal up and the skin soften. Jaskier spends a looooot of time tending to them in every manner they need

(Also............... Geralt considering kissing a thousand times more intimate than sex because with his muzzle on it was rare that it ever happened...................... I am verklempt……….)

Jaskier takes them to taverns and inns and makes a point of sitting down by the fireplace with Geralt kneeling next to him so he can rest his head on his lap and Jaskier can brush his hair. This does wonders for most towns who have small children INCREDIBLY fascinated by the big sleepy witcher who's purring. Also, consider Geralt waking up and startling when he finds people looking at him, grabbing Jaskier's leg and trying to hide his face behind it. And only peeking out at the watchers when Jaskier tells him he's okay and safe and fine.

Yenn, in the corner, clutching her chest: I'm having heart failure, too cute

Geralt learns how to play Gwent from watching other people and Jaskier is mortified when he starts hovering over his shoulder and forcibly playing better hands for him. Eventually they give up and just get him a good deck.

Also, dog instincts. Someone throws a ball and it's literally all he can do not to yank the leash out of Jaskier's hand to chase it. It looks so FUN. Jaskier has this happen to him exactly two times before finding a ball and spending hours working Geralt's energy out with essentially games of fetch. Yennefer adds extra oomph to his throws and Geralt still manages to catch shit out of the air, it drives them nuts.

Here have a snippet

---

“Pretty, aren’t you?”

Geralt looked up, startled. There was a woman in front of him, nearly as tall as he was, with wavy brown hair and a heart shaped face. She was eating an apple, considering him, and dressed in an armored jerkin. He shrank back a little, because he knew full well what he looked like. Where was Yenn, anyway? She needed to come back.

“Never heard that Witcher’s can’t talk,” the woman continued. “Or does the muzzle make it hard?”

Geralt licks his lips and bites out, “Muzzle.”

“Well that’s shitty.” The woman pulled out a knife, carving off a chunk of apple. “Want me to drop this through to you?”

Geralt shook his head. The idea of having to crouch and tip his head for a few scraps of apple was unbelievably embarrassing.

“Mm,” she said, and held it out, instead. “Here. Then you can eat it later, or do it yourself.”

Startled, he took the apple piece from her. It was an early one, likely to be a little tart, but he liked the bite. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him, stepping closer and leaning against the post of the covering. “Want me to cut you loose?”

Geralt shook his head, pointing to the collar on his neck. “Strangles. So we can’t be used.”

“Well that’s… terrifying,” she said mildly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m Renfri, by the way. You have a name, Witcher?”

It had been… how long had it been, since someone asked for his name? He had almost forgotten how to say it.

“Geralt,” he said, and the word fell from his lips like a prayer. “Geralt of Rivia.”

#geraskefer #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #witcher #vinnfics

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king-finnigan · 3 years

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wingless thing

this is a oneshot that i was planning on turning into a full series at some point, but i never really had any ideas for the main storyline. so here it is, now; it’s an AU where everyone on the continent is born with wings. the only people who don’t have them are witchers.

Geralt sighs as he looks up at the tavern, built into the side of the mountain. There is no path up, no way to get there other than flying. Which wouldn’t be an issue for anyone else.

But unfortunately, Geralt isn’t anyone else.

He lets out an annoyed huff and Roach bristles softly, pushing at his shoulder with her nose. He pats the side of her neck, tangling his fingers through her brown mane. “Sorry, girl,” he mutters. “Gonna have to sleep outside again tonight.”

He doesn’t really know what he expected. Posada is full of mountains, of course people are going to build as high up as they can to get away from the creatures and monsters on the ground. Still, he’d been looking forward to a proper meal and a soft bed for the night, but it looks like he’ll have to make do with his bedroll and some dried meat. He always does.

He takes the saddle and reigns off of Roach and starts setting up camp – laying down his bedroll, gathering wood for a fire, checking his dwindling supplies. He counts his coin, finds out he’s still low on it and gold hasn’t magically appeared in his pouch since he looked this morning.

It’s the reason why he came here in the first place. Usually, he doesn’t venture this close to the mountains – the buildings always high up and only accessible from the air – but there haven’t been a lot of monsters in the plains and forests lately, so he had no other choice but to head east.

He looks up as he hears wings flapping, watches with a barely-hidden scowl when a young man descends from the air, softly lowering himself on one of the branches of a tree at the edge of the clearing. His feathers are a light shade of brown, almost golden in the late afternoon light, interspersed by darker ones painting long stripes across his wings. The young man cocks his head, keen, blue eyes taking in the sight of Geralt sitting on the ground, wingless.

“What are you doing down here?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, his already thin patience running out quickly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Setting up camp.” Apparently this young man either doesn’t know what a rhetorical question is, or he’s unable to pick up on them. “But why down here?”

Geralt glares at him, narrowing his eyes at those golden-brown wings. The young man merely raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. Geralt sighs. “I can’t get up there.”

“Up where? The inn?” Geralt nods, and the stranger finally seems to get it, his eyes flicking to where Geralt’s wings should be, his mouth falling open in a soft ‘O’. He appears to figure out a lot of things in the next few seconds, his face going from confusion to realization back to confusion numerous times.

Geralt sighs, lighting the fire with a quick Igni, the blissful quiet stretching out between them.

“You’re the Witcher,” the young man says eventually. “Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken.” Geralt resists the urge to growl at the mention of that cursed town, his mind unhelpfully providing him with the memories of Renfri, of her blood coating his hands, of Stregobor cutting off her grey-and-white wings while the entire town chased Geralt away. He shakes his head to rid himself of the images.

Finally, the young man comes down from the tree, the tips of his wings dragging in the dirt behind him as he walks towards Geralt, extending his hand. Geralt doesn’t take it and looks away. Eventually, the young man gives up and sits down on the other side of the fire, big, blue eyes taking Geralt in, his brown feathers trembling slightly in excitement.

“I’m Jaskier, by the way.” Geralt doesn’t respond, but the young man continues regardless. “You know, I’m a bard. My lute is still up at the inn-“ he jabs his thumb up at the side of the mountain “-so you’ll just have to take my word for it, but it seems to me that you’ve got a bit of an image problem, Witcher. You know, I could be your barker-“

“No.”

“-spreading the tales of- of… Geralt of Rivia, the…” He seems to think for a few seconds, chin in his hand. “The White Wolf!” he finally exclaims, spreading his wings and arms dramatically, nearly knocking into Roach, who bristles angrily, taking a few steps away from the annoying and expressive bard.

Geralt looks at Jaskier for a few moments. “The White Wolf?” he eventually asks, voice flat.

Jaskier nods excitedly. “Yes! Because your hair is white and you don’t have any wings! I saw you pacing around here before I arrived, and I thought to myself ‘wow, this guy looks just like a wolf stalking its prey’, so there you have it! White Wolf! Do you like it?”

“No. Go away.” What the fuck does he need a barker for? He’s perfectly fine on his own. He’s managed seventy years alone on the path without wings, and he’ll manage a thousand more, thank you very much. Now all he needs is for this guy to fuck off and let him be so he can get some much-needed sleep. He’ll set out early again tomorrow.

Jaskier pouts a bit but gets up, luckily. “Alright, aright. I’ll leave you to it, then. Bye, Geralt.”

“Hmm. Bye.” He doesn’t look up from the fire, sees the flames dance in front of him as Jaskier flaps his wings and starts running, eventually taking off, up and up into the sky, towards the inn built into the mountainside. Once the sound of wings flapping has faded away, Geralt lets himself relax and eats a meagre meal of dried meat and a crust of stale bread. He falls into a restless sleep after that, his dreams plagued by black and white wings, speckled with blood.

---

He sets out early the next day, towards Dol Blathanna. A goat farmer had approached him in the morning, offering a hundred coins for a demon that kept stealing his goats. Geralt highly doubts that it’s a demon, but a job’s a job, and no matter how little money a hundred coins is, it’s better than nothing.

He saddles Roach and heads to the east. Before long though, he hears the sound of wings, someone flying towards him.

“Geralt! Hi!” Jaskier lands next to him, using his momentum to fall into step next to Geralt, Roach too slow and the branches too low to keep flying. He’s a bit out of breath, but his entire face is lit up with a smile that easily rivals the morning sun. There’s a lute hanging against his hip, Geralt notices.

“So, what are we hunting?”

Geralt scoffs. “We aren’t hunting anything. Fuck off.”

Jaskier pouts. “You know, you should really work on your people skills. I bet you’d get more contracts, then, though of course my songs will help. I mean, I’m almost getting the impression that you want me to leave!”

Geralt throws him an apprehensive look. “I do want you to leave. Go away.”

Jaskier huffs, his feathers puffing up slightly in annoyance. “No! No, you need my help, Geralt of Rivia. Unless, of course, you want to be forever known as the Butcher of Blaviken and a wingless monster.”

Geralt scoffs. “I am.”

“What? The Butcher of Blaviken or a wingless monster?”

“Both.”

Jaskier gasps, hand dramatically laying over his chest, wings stretching out, the tips bending forward a bit in shock. “You are most certainly not!”

“Well, I’m not a white wolf, either.”

Jaskier laughs softly, his wings folding behind his back again. “I assure you that you are. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but feels something soft unfurl in his chest. “Hmm.”

The bard grins. “So you do agree! Of course you do. I’m right, after all.”

It continues on like that for a while, Jaskier chatting on and on, his wings almost equally as expressive as his hands, and he almost slaps an increasingly disgruntled Roach with them several times. Meanwhile, Geralt keeps quiet, only giving monosyllabic answers from time to time, keeping an eye out for this so-called ‘demon’. Eventually, he dismounts Roach, leaving her behind at one of the only trees visible in the plain of yellowed grass, the rich mountains no more than a silhouette behind his back. He continues on foot, Jaskier following closely behind, still chattering.

“Sorry, what are we looking for again?”

“Blessed silence.”

“… Yeah, don’t really go in for that.”

Something rustles in the grass, and Geralt barely has time to turn around before something hits Jaskier square between the eyes. The bard collapses onto the ground, and the witcher walks towards him, finds a small, metal ball on the ground. He looks up when he hears footsteps, registers the dark silhouette of a person against the bright sunlight, and is promptly struck against the back of the head, his vision fading to black rather abruptly and violently.

---

He wakes up in a cave, hands bound by his side, something soft and firm and trembling pressed to his back. He frowns, confused, until he moves his head a bit and feels feathers tickling against his cheeks, the wings behind him puffed up in fear – except they aren’t his wings. Of course they’re not; he lost his a long time ago.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” Jaskier says behind him.

Geralt grunts, starts struggling against the ropes that bind his wrists by his side.

“This is the part where we escape!” Jaskier exclaims, wings fluttering a bit in excitement, as if this is all just some big adventure.

“This is the part where they kill us,” he growls, still struggling against the bonds.

“Who’s they?” Jaskier’s wings contract in pain against Geralt’s back when a she-elf kicks the bard in the stomach.

Everything is a bit of a blur after that, getting his and the bard’s life threatened by the elves – easily identified as elves by their iridescent dragonfly wings – Jaskier’s lute getting destroyed, the elven king talking about the atrocities committed against them, and eventually letting the bard and the witcher go, even giving Jaskier a new, elven lute, the wood as shimmery and iridescent as their wings.

And before long, they’re headed back to Posada. Jaskier walks in front of him, strumming his new lute, singing a song of which only three words are true, give or take, his wings puffed up to let the soft breeze ruffle through the feathers.

Back in Posada, Jaskier offers Geralt to carry him up to the inn, which he resolutely refuses. There is a certain shame in having to stay on the ground while everyone else flies past, his differences pointedly underlined by his obvious lack of wings, but there’s something else entirely revolting about having to be carried up by a scrawny, little bard.

But instead of going back up to the inn alone, Jaskier stays on the ground with Geralt, practically stealing the Witcher’s spare bedroll.

“So,” Jaskier says, gently plucking away at the strings of his new lute. “What’s the deal with-“ he gestures at Geralt “-you know.”

He rolls his eyes. He’d much rather go to sleep right now than listen to the bard make redundant statements and ask vague questions. “No, I don’t know.”

Jaskier seems to hesitate, biting his bottom lip gently. “The wings,” he eventually half-whispers, as if it’s something Geralt’s sensitive about. Which he is, but he’d never show anyone that. “Where are they?”

“None of your business.” The light of the flames burns his eyes as he stares into the fire, and for a moment, he could swear he sees black and white feathers between the logs. For a moment, he’s still a boy at Kaer Morhen, looking on helplessly as they burn part of him, the barely-healed wounds in his back a constant, agonizing reminder of what he’s lost.

“Hmm,” Jaskier hums, plucking a few notes on his lute. “I suppose not. But there are rumours, you know? Like that you have to eat your own wings to become a Witcher.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Jaskier scrunches his nose. “Yeah, figured that one wasn’t real. Also heard a rumour that it’s what gives you your magic-“

“We don’t have magic.”

“-but my nan’s friend’s uncle’s brother’s teacher lost one wing during the war, and he didn’t get any magic powers, so I suppose that one’s a lie as well. I also heard a rumour-“

“Go to sleep, bard.”

Jaskier pouts at him for a second but Geralt doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he lies down on his bedroll, turning his back to the bard.

After a few seconds, he hears the faint rustling of clothes, the quiet thud of the elven lute being placed into the old, worn case, the clicking of locks being closed. He waits, watching the light of the fire dance across the trees around them, as Jaskier’s breathing grows slower and deeper.

Only when he’s sure that the bard’s asleep, does he let himself relax slightly, wincing when he shifts- the motion pulling at scars he can never truly forget. No matter how many nights have passed since that day so many decades ago, the ache in his back never fades.

He slips into a restless sleep.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #wings au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #if anyone wants to know #jaskier's wings are that of a tawny owl #renfri's are a shrike's #and geralt's used to be a downy woodpecker's #anyways i never really knew what to do with this au past this point so #guess this is where it ends lmao #if you wanna use it that's fine by me as long as you tag me so i can see lmao #title ofc from TAD

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gayregis · 4 years

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do you think the moral of renfris story was geralt saying a victim is just as evil as their abuser? i see a lot of netflix fans interpret it this way and idk it just feels... off.

no, i completely disagree. the cycle of violence is probably one of the largest themes in the witcher series, and the lesser evil is only one of these stories. i actually didn’t understand the story until i read the entire saga... so sorry if i answer this question with more references to parts of the witcher that are unrelated to the lesser evil than to actually the short story itself.

this is my take: in the witcher series, everything turns to be a cycle, something inherited from the previous generation that you then pass on to the next generation. the wheel keeps turning and you inherit and pass on many different traits, and this is not confined to biological familial relations.

the biggest theme and story of the series, in my opinion, is that of the inevitable inherited violence and abandonment in the context of witchers. geralt was raised as a witcher because he was abandoned by his mother, and he was then given the burden of violence to carry out. because he doesn’t want to put this burden of violence on ciri, because he wants to somehow circumvent this cycle of inherited violence and prevent ciri from coming into contact with it, he inevitably dooms her to the inherited violence anyways - by deferring her as his child, she experiences the massacre of cintra. and by trying to prevent her from inheriting violence, he realizes after he’s left her that he’s unintentionally given her the other half of the trauma coin he has as well - abandonment. as he was abandoned by his mother, he has now abandoned her. so he searches for her, finds her, but now undoubtedly needs to be raised as a witcher more than ever. thus she inherits the violence, too... and then she’s abandoned again (this time not intentionally), and when left to her own devices, becomes consumed with this violence. it takes her over and she just kills and kills...

i think the lesser evil is about this. maybe not all of this about inheriting things, but it’s about being consumed by violence, it’s about an unending cycle. it’s not so much about who is right and who is wrong, and stregobor and other sorcerers locked girls in towers and renfri and her gang kill people. it’s not about that so much, the actual actions that they do and weighing these actions to see which is lesser, which is eviler than the other, but the fact that because they have engaged each other in this dance, it’s now unending, and it will continue to destroy and destroy until it finally ends in misery.

renfri isn’t “just as evil as her abuser” because it’s such a strange way to frame it... she was abused, and then she herself became an abuser and a killer. it’s not about the fact that it was wrong to abuse her, of course it fucking was. of course she deserves revenge. but she, on this quest for revenge, became obsessed with it, and became a killer in her own right, taking out her pain on others. this is also what happens to ciri, later on in the saga. except in my opinion (even though maybe this contradicts with sapkowski’s vision), ciri reigns it in at the end, and she realizes that violence is not the answer to everything, that this violence has destroyed her entire life and her entire family, and that revenge is a wild goose chase because you will never actually ever be satisfied with the amount of revenge you get, so she leaves this world, she is the chosen one but she ends her bloodline because she chooses to end the violence that has consumed her.

the message is that violence begets violence. and that if you experience violence, it is incredibly easy to internalize that, let it fester inside of you, and begin to long for nothing but vengeance and death, and that will lead to your ruin.

this is why geralt tells ciri in a voice colder than the walls of kaer morhen that she will not pick up a sword again until she understands what purpose it holds in a witcher’s hands... a sword is a tool of violence, violence is necessary at times, but it must be controlled. you cannot let the fact that you have experienced violence turn you into someone that craves inflicting violence. you cannot wield a weapon with no regard for the lives you may end. you have to think about what you do and not act on primal instinct.

this is why ciri, after killing rampantly, has someone worse than the grim reaper set on her heels... her horrific encounters with leo bonhart are just a continuation of the violence which consumes her life. the cycle keeps turning and turning, and every time it turns, it gets worse and more grotesque.

and this is why renfri, after being dealt such horrible abuse and injustice by stregobor and the men allied with him, turns to violence as her tool to obtain justice. and the wheel turns, and people die. more blood is shed, more and more, until everything comes to a halt and it ends in final death.

it’s not saying that “the abused are as bad as their abusers,” it’s saying more like “being exposed to violence makes you vulnerable to also turn to blind and indiscriminate violence that consumes you, and you should resist this powerful temptation because it will make you a danger to yourself and others.”

i’m not saying that this message is unequivocally right, i am just trying to interpret what i think sapkowski was trying to say in this short story and this series. i tend to feel that this message is a little milquetoast... but i think it was personally helpful for me to understand my own life, that revenge and violence aren’t always the helpful answers. they don’t always make you happy, sometimes they just add to the tragedy. and it’s way more complex than just seeing who is right... it’s delving into how feeling that when someone has hurt you or done you injustice, that’s all that matters, and it tends to blind you and make you stop thinking both about what really matters.

#theres also all this stuff about not being neutral but thats getting more into boe and toc and its not what was asked #so i decided to streamline this and only answer the question asked #the lesser evil #the witcher #ciri #geralt #renfri #stregobor #anon #ask

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restmyheadatnightcontent · 3 years

Text

febuwhump day 5 - ‘take me instead’

this is the product of me watching the witcher and the man from uncle repeatedly to get myself through lockdown so enjoy a little geraskefer as spies ft horrible creepy stregebor

geraskefer | 1414 words | cw: drugging, violence, referenced experimentation

_______________________________

He should have known it was too good to be true, he’d had a bad feeling ever since they had started the mission but he’d had no reason for that feeling so he’d just ignored it. Which was stupid – rule number one of being a spy is trust your gut.

It had been too easy, he and Geralt had snuck into the facility with relative ease, there were no guards to be seen, and he had cracked the safe with no trouble. They were on their way out with the files when they had turned down what they thought was an empty corridor only to be accosted by a swarm of guards. He and Geralt had managed to fire off a few shots but it wasn’t long before they had tackled him and were pressing a syringe into his neck.

He winces now at the memory of the cold metal sinking in. He hates it when they use drugs – it’s cheating. If you want a fight at least do it properly.

When whatever they had injected him with had worn off he awoke to find himself in a sterile laboratory, stripped almost naked and strapped to a cold operating table, with Geralt still unconscious on a table next to him. The fact that the other man was not yet awake means that they whoever has captured them were prepared for them and for Geralts mutuations. They had been lured into a trap and now Jaskier is just left wondering why.

He hopes that Yennefer had managed to get away, that she had heard the fight via the bugs that he knows she planted on him and Geralt before they left and she called in for help. As soon as he and Geralt had not made it to the agreed meeting point, he hopes that she had left her position and gone to get back up rather than trying to stage a dramatic rescue. But knowing Yennefer, its almost certainly the latter.

His fears are confirmed when the door opens and the guards carry in a familiar body. He tries to get a good look at her as they strap her down to table on his other side, and he cannot see any visible wounds. However his heart drops when he sees the dimeritium cuffs that have been placed around her wrists. Gods knows what they did to her in order to get them on but he knows it can’t have been pretty.

He turns his head back towards the ceiling and tries to figure out how the hell they are going to get out of this one. He waits for a sign that either of the other two are awakening but he is just met with the sounds of the steady breaths of his companions. Normally, that noise brings much comfort to him but only in the confines of their bedroom, here in the unfamiliar room it does nothing to soothe his nerves. He’s without his lockpicks which is making his escape from the table much harder. And whoever it is that has trapped them will be ready. They had measures in place for both Geralt and Yennefer, which means they knew about them and they managed to fake information well enough to fool Vesemir. They aren’t amateurs, whoever they are.

Before he can get much further in his investigations the door is opening again. He lifts his head to see an elderly man in a white coat coming into the room. He seems to be just an ordinary old man – grey hair and a small beard – he looks like someone you would walk past in the street. But as he gets closer, Jaskier gets a glimpse of something in his eyes. Or rather a lack of something – his eyes are cold and calculating and seem to devoid of any light. Paired with the almost hungry smile the man has on his face, they send a shudder running down Jaskiers spine.

“Hello Mr Pankratz,” he says “Yes, yes I know who you are and who you work for so let’s not bother with any of that feigning ignorance act I’ve no doubt you’re terrific at, hm?”

He walks up to Yennefer and Jaskier clenches his fists as the old mans hand lifts to stroke her face. “It’s such a pity that the others aren’t awake yet. I must have made a mistake with my calculations. But no worry, we’ve all got plenty of time to get to know one another.”

He turns back towards Jaskier and he finds himself staring again into the soulless eyes.

“Who the fuck are you and what the hell do you want?” Jaskier asks angrily.

“How rude of me, not introducing myself. I am Stregobor,” he says calmly. Jaskier has heard the name before but he can’t quite place where. The doctor continues“And as for what I want – well I am a scientist you see. And I have always been fascinated by your organisation, about the people that work there. About what is done to them.”

“Yes, yes, I know all about the Witchers and their mutations. I’ve been trying to recreate the process myself for many years but I have never quite managed to get it right – never managed to get them to stick. And now I have one of my own to study and practice on, as well as one of the most powerful mages on the Continent,” he says, with an air of fascination “Yes I think this is will be one of my most productive studies yet.

Of course that’s where Jaskier knows the name – Stregobor was the one responsible for Project Black Sun, the systematic murder of the young girls who were all born during the eclipse and all seemed to show the same strange mutations. He’d heard horror stories about the man from Renfri and that was well over 20 years ago. Gods knows what the man has been up to since then, but it can’t have been good.

Stregobor crosses over to Geralts prone form “I think I’ll start with this one, see if I can figure out what makes him so special.”

“No,” Jaskier says, struggling against his ties “no, you can’t.”

“Oh I think you’ll find I can dear boy. And there’s not a lot you can do to stop me.”

“Take me instead. You won’t find out anything from him – from either of them – but I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he pleads. He knows it’s stupid, showing his hand this early, letting Stregobor know how much they both mean to him but he doesn’t care if it means that they will be safe, that Stregobor won’t touch them.

“How sweet,” Stregobor says coming to stand next to Jaskier’s head. His hand comes to rest on Jaskier’s cheek and Jaskier flinches away from the contact. “I’ll tell them that you offered up yourself in their place, I think it will help lessen the pain. Or perhaps it will make it worse, who knows.”

He leans in closer and Jaskier can feel the other mans breath ghosting his cheek “You see, I am going to study them but I have much, much bigger plans for you, my boy. With everything I learn from them, from their bodies, I’ll finally be able to perfect my experiments and I’m going to use it to transform you into the perfect fighter. And then you’re going to kill them for me.”

He can see the images in his mind but the thoughts feel unfamiliar in his head, and he realises that Stregobor must be placing them in there, showing Jaskier his plans. Jaskier holding a sword in one hand, knife in the other, walking towards Geralt and Yen. He can hear their pleas as he pushes the knife in, feels their blood coat his hands, their eyes filling with tears as they stare at him, mouths open in shock as he twists the knife—

“No. No,” Jaskier whispers “I won’t.”

“Oh but you will,” he says and then he is calling for the guards and Geralt is being wheeled away.

“If you touch so much as a single hair on his head, I will burn you and this place to the ground,” Jaskier growls. He struggles against the bindings holding him to the table as he watches Geralt’s white hair disappear through the door.

He’s going to get them out of this and stop Stregobor if it’s the last thing he does.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday5 #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskefer #geraskefer fic #geralt x yennefer x jaskier #geralt #yennefer #jaskier #my writing #my fic

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headtothecoast · 4 years

Text

buzzfeed unsolved!geraskier

monsters do very much exist and geralt is still a witcher who is approached during the winter to join buzzfeed after their recent hire jaskier suggested he wanted to look at mysterious historical disappearances and monster lore and do a series on it. the problem is a lot of the information is false and they need help debunking online rumors. so jaskier finds geralts witcher service online (yen dealt with that, basically twisted his arm into having a website) and calls him asking if he’d be interested in doing the series.

hunting isn’t reliable work and having fairly steady income would be nice, even if the guy is a little annoying so geralt agrees to fact check except then jaskiers cohost gets sick (not what really happened to the guy before shane) and he asks him if he could please film an episode or two they were so close to finishing the first season for release and no one else knows the material so geralt agrees to that to.

and when he meets the guy face to face he’s wearing heels and looks a little embarrassed saysing sorry, one of the other series needed a guy to wear heels for a day and i’d already agree to the filming for their episode. hope you don’t mind.

and geralt definitely doesn’t mind because the guy looks good in heels and then geralt is being pestered about being a witcher and wow your hair and eyes, you look like a -

and geralt waits for the word monster with clenched teeth but it doesn’t come

- model! seriously, i’m surprised no ones tried to scout you before...

and while geralt doesn’t exactly listen to the rest of that, he is relieved that the guy isn’t scared of him.

so they get mic’d up and jaskier is explaining how it’ll go and that usually there’s some banter back and forth so if geralt has any thoughts on what he’s talking about to please interrupt him because it’ll lighten what they’re talking about for audience you know and geralt nods and they’re ready to begin.

so jaskier is setting the scene and doing a voice over that is downright lyrical and he’s talking about information on vampires and that the family thought to have gone missing because of one bought several pounds of garlic and geralt snorts quite loudly and jaskiers like what, not enough garlic?

and before he knows it geralt is saying, no it’s just i know who started that rumor, friend of mine knew a guy who was allergic so when he went around complaining about vampires trying to find him by friend told him to fill his house with garlic.

were there actually vampires after him? jaskier asked, smiling.

oh hell no, the guy was anemic. vampires and witcher’s can smell that from miles away, he was having us on and lambert decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

and the rest of the episode goes like that, geralt reading stories and jaskier commentating and asking questions and between takes geralt asks jaskier why he was so interested in monsters.

well, originally it was because of the songs. you know, the factually inaccurate but beautifully written ballads about werewolves and vampires and harpies and i wondered how much was true? buzzfeed didn’t like that so instead we changed it to more disappearance type stuff because apparently i get too sucked into musical theory... and geralt has no doubt that’s the case.

little by little they become friends. jaskier invites geralt out for drinks and geralt invites jaskier to his house to see the remains of recent kills so jaskier can make the episode more real.

when the first season is released jaskiers cohost quits for unrelated reasons and jaskier is heartbroken, going to geralts house unannounced and crying because he had thought it was good and now no one else would do it with him and before he’s aware of what he’s doing geralt is agreeing to do the series with him. so long as it doesn’t interfere with hunts and jaskier is hugging him and geralt offers to make dinner and that’s that for the night.

except people love the series and it has an almost overnight following and yes some youtube comments are mean but most people love geralt and his dry humor and jaskier for his bright personality. and sure, sometimes jaskier will read a comment about being over talkative or geralt will find the comments calling him terrifying and monsterous but they always make sure to send each other the good ones.

and maybe during the off season of shooting jaskier has plans to visit geralt but is a little early and doesn’t think he’d mind but when he lets himself in geralt is shirtless and has a nasty wound in his shoulder and is just continuing to bleed so of course jaskier rushes over panicked and helps him stitch himself up and lays him out on the couch because there’s no way he could carry him upstairs so he sleeps on the other couch and prays for geralt to be alright.

and in the morning someone opens geralts front door and it’s a woman with bright blonde hair who’s smiling as she lets herself in and says sorry didn’t mean to wake you, i forgot my laptop and i have a group project later. tell dad to call me when he wakes up so i know he’s alright. thanks for patching him up, when i was over last weekend he told me all about you so it was nice to meet you jaskier and then she’s gone and jaskier is sitting dumbfounded because he didn’t know geralt had a daughter

and geralt is sitting up and looks confused but relaxes when he sees jaskier and says you know i meant to tell you about ciri but it really never came up. i don’t see her mother very often and she spends most of her time there. thank you for fixing me up last night, didn’t realize there’d be two and then he’s standing and jaskier is rushing to sit him back down you could have died did you know that? and geralt is smiling lightly as jaskier talks about how worried he was and oh goodness you must be hungry i’ll bring you something but melitele above don’t you dare stand up again until after breakfast

and then that’s just how things are with them spending the night at each other’s places between prep work for the show and jaskier patching geralt up on hunts until one day jaskier brings up the next topic of the show and geralt freezes.

see, there’s this story about someone called the butcher of blaviken, killed almost 40 men and there’s rumors about what type of monster it was but - geralt? are you okay? geralt!?

and geralt doesn’t realize he’s leaving until he’s in his car and jaskier is calling him but he shuts his phone off and just he couldn’t handle hearing jaskier call him a monster or reliving what had happened.

and thankfully jaskier gives him a day all to himself and doesn’t call him or show up at his place or anything and geralt tries to push those memories out of his head but fails and decides to sleep it off and when he wakes up he can smell something cooking and goes downstairs to see yennefer making breakfast like she had when they were married and his chest feels tight but he sits down and waits for the explanation.

so ciri called me last night saying that a friend of yours, glad you have one of those by the way, had called her crying and saying you had left his place looking upset and you wouldn’t answer your phone and it was maybe something he said about blaviken so she called me. i know you’ve got that little youtube show going and i can only imagine that what this is about but geralt, you can’t keep running from it forever. and her smile is soft like it used to be before they just stopped talking like they used to and he lets himself remember how he’d loved her and he gets up from the table and says thank you yen, for breakfast and gives her a hug which startles her and when she leaves it’s only after geralt texted jaskier to come over to talk

and jaskier comes over anxious and sad and geralt tells him everything about renfri and blaviken and stregobor and jaskier listens quietly and at the end geralt’s face is tucked into jaskiers shoulder and he’s crying and jaskier is telling him they don’t have to do that episode ever and he’ll throw out the file and oh geralt i am so sorry, you’re not a monster sweetheart, it’ll be okay i promise

and whenever people tweet out mean things about geralt on social media jaskier goes feral and doesn’t care about the ramifications and geralt starts to lighten just a little and then one night they’re at a bar and someone sneers at him and jaskier lays the guy out, breaks his nose and geralt is hauling him out of the bar saying what the hell were you thinking you could’ve been arrested jaskier and jaskier isn’t even listening he’s still shouting at the man but he looks and geralt and says serves him right the bastard - i’m not letting people say that shit to you anymore, melitele knows you don’t deserve it. you’re the best man i know geralt you don’t deserve to be treated like shit if i want to punch someone i’ll damn well punch them because no one gets to -

and geralt cuts him off with a kiss because never has someone cared this much, to be angry over the words of others and to resolutely stick with him and defend him. and when jaskier kisses back geralt knows he’ll do anything to keep this man at his side.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #yennefer #cirilla of cintra #buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed unsolved!geraskier

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vulturhythm · 4 years

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Hurt/Comfort with Yenfri or Geraskier? Either one is A+ but pls make it Softe ❤️ THANK YOU BEB!! 😘💕

i don’t give a fuck about timelines

we woke up sad so you get the sad

- - - - -

that unwanted animal

geralt has long since gotten used to the bite of the cuffs digging into his wrists and ankles. they can’t be broken - he’s fucking tried. enchanted, no doubt, just the same as the muzzle that’s far too tight about his chin.

he breathes in as deep as the iron collar permits, closing his eyes and letting his head bow forward. very little point in surveying his cage again. he knows nothing will have changed. still too small, too cramped, still reeking of old blood and piss and ichor from the other beasts made to rot in here.

off to one side, he hears stirring, a sharp inhale, a whine of pain.

geralt’s heart aches in time with the clatter of chains from renfri’s cage.

he had been trying to save her. he would have saved her, had stregobor not had friends in unholy places - had stregobor not had a band of highwaymen awaiting them on every road leading out of blaviken.

roach is lying dead somewhere, a bolt between her eyes.

a bolt just like the one still deep in renfri’s thigh.

geralt had tried. he’d fought. he’d yelled at renfri to run, to grab one of their horses and leave, and yet, she had insisted upon staying behind, upon trying to fight with him.

geralt doubts he’ll ever forget the pain that came when a silver chain was flung in his direction, when it looped around his throat and yanked him off his feet.

i’m not a monster, he had wanted to scream, but it had pulled too tight for him to even breathe.

the hands he’d raised to grab at the chain were snatched away by the men who came to pin him down; his only satisfaction was that he had kneed one of them in the groin and nearly thrown the other aside before they forced the manacles about his wrists.

he knows he’ll never forget the scream that tore itself from renfri’s throat when they chained her down just the same; he knows he’ll never stop feeling guilty for failing her.

after all, she had been running to his aid when they shot her. their eyes had met as the men forced the muzzle onto geralt’s face, as renfri cried out and fell forward, leg shot numb.

he knows -

the sound of movement elsewhere in the deep dark cellar cuts geralt’s train of thought in two, and he lifts his head as much as the weight of his restraints allows, peering ahead into the darkness. he and renfri are the only two humanoids in the room, he knows this much; there’s a siren, halfway dehydrated and nearly dead, in a cage across from him, but geralt doubts it’s strong enough to pose any threat to their captors.

geralt isn’t even entirely sure where they are, to be entirely honest.

he had fallen unconscious shortly into the process of fitting the muzzle. after all, there were prongs that had to be inserted, piercing through the flesh of his cheeks and hooking through eachother where they met above his tongue.

even now, the wounds beginning to heal thanks to his mutations, there’s fresh blood on his tongue, and he doesn’t dare make a sound.

his best guess is that they’re beneath stregobor’s residence, hidden away where he can keep on eye on the cursed girl and her inhuman would-be savior.

he has to wonder, though, what good stregobor has for him.

the sound across the room has abated. geralt sighs, and closes his eyes.

- - -

he must have faded back into unconsciousness at some point, for geralt awakens with a start when he hears a scream overhead. he jerks his head up to stare, golden eyes adjusting to the darkness but offering him no more than the sight of the dingy stone ceiling.

a moment later, it hits him - new scents, nearly drowned out by the reek of blood and decay.

magic.

magic, and - and lilac.

geralt goes tense, fists clenching tight where they’re bound. surely she didn’t -

cedarwood and wildflowers.

surely he didn’t.

surely.

they’re not that foolish...

... and yet, even as he’s doing his godsdamn best to convince himself otherwise, the scream cuts off, and the upper floors go silent.

geralt turns his head, catches renfri’s eye where she’s staring at him. blessedly free of a muzzle, she’s gagged all the same, a scrap of her own clothing shoved between her teeth, so the only sound she can offer is one of plaintive confusion, but it’s enough.

the witcher shakes his head, just barely, turning his eyes toward the door when he hears harried footsteps coming down.

the light that bursts into the cellar once the doors are opened makes him recoil, and he hears the siren shriek - too bright, too sudden, too -

there’s a rush of motion, and geralt draws back, instinct making him dread the quick approach even though he recognizes the scent, would know it throuh is sleep.

“oh, geralt,” comes a soft and broken voice, and as geralt’s eyes adjust once more, he sees jaskier kneeling just in front of his cage, looking him over with such heartbreak in his eyes that he can’t help but ache. “geralt, my love, i’m so sorry we weren’t here sooner.”

he says nothing - he can’t. exhaling slow, geralt lowers his head, tipping forward to lean his weight against the cage door; jaskier reaches for him, brushes a gentle fingertip along his brow through the grate. “yennefer,” he says, and geralt sighs.

the sorceress approaches, slower and with much more grace than jaskier, something for which geralt is distantly grateful; he knows it’ll take time to unlearn fear. he turns his eyes upward, sits back reluctantly and watches as yennefer kneels.

“stregobor is dead,” she tells him softly, holding his gaze as she fits a stolen key into the lock. “she’s safe now.”

geralt tips his head in the barest mimicry of a nod, breathing out in relief when the door of the cage swings open. yennefer reaches for him once more, telegraphing every motion, and he offers no resistance as she unlocks first his manacles, then the collar about his throat. “i can’t take the muzzle off here,” she sighs, sitting back on her heels, “and i know you loathe portals, but i can treat your wounds at my home.”

he nods once more, testing his wrists and hands. it’s easy enough to sense yennefer’s restlessness; with a soft huff, he tilts his chin toward renfri’s cage. the sorceress murmurs a soft “thank you” before she stands.

yennefer gone, jaskier takes her place once more, helping geralt shuffle forward on his knees until he’s out of the cage and on solid ground. “my wolf,” he whispers, low and forlorn; geralt would have offered him a smile, had he any left to give. “my love...”

jaskier’s arms fold carefully around his shoulders, and geralt offers no resistance, leaning forward to rest his head upon his bard’s chest. he breathes in deeply of his scent, closing his eyes and resting trembling hands on his waist.

he can hear his bard rambling, telling of how they tracked him down - trying to fill the silence, no doubt - but geralt is distracted. he turns his gaze to the women across the room, to where yennefer is setting the key aside and drawing renfri into her arms.

perhaps yennefer will do a better job of protecting her love than geralt had.

the smell of fresh blood hits him a moment later, and it gives geralt pause. he draws back, back until jaskier drops his hands and falls silent, looking at him with worry plain. geralt doesn’t meet his gaze, his eyes fixated upon the blood slowly drying on his hands.

jaskier glances down, clears his throat. “stregobor,” he says at last, and there’s an awkward sort of vindication in his tone.

geralt knows he won’t stand for being coddled.

he’s killed now. he’s killed -

...

geralt’s mouth aches as he forces his tongue to work, and he feels new blood dripping in, but it’s no matter, not right now. he forces out a single sound, crippled voice rising at the end.

why?

jaskier’s eyes widen briefly, and he reaches for geralt once more, brushing his matted hair aside. “because i care about you,” he whispers, his touch featherlight. “because... because i love you.”

- - - - -

yeah this ran away from me i hope you do not mind ily @justjessiehere

#answered asks #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #yenfri #yennefer x renfri #whump #angst #my fics

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Text

Born Under a Black Sun

I fell into the rabbit hole of yet another fandom so here’s a quick fic inspired by this post from @faeymouse

It starts as a game.

When they’re laying together, content and sated and Jaskier is draped across his chest, Geralt lets him ask a question. The first time they do this, Jaskier runs his fingers across one of the scars on his arm and asks if he could hear the story about that one. Ordinarily, Geralt would never have given up one of stories so easily but Jaskier had done something clever with his tongue earlier and he supposes he’s in a bit of a good mood.

“If you can guess what gave it to me,” he says.

Jaskier pushes himself up so he can look at Geralt’s face. “You mean it?” he asks, blue eyes wide in surprise.

Geralt is already starting to regret it and maybe Jaskier sees that because he immediately continues, “You can’t take it back. You’ve already said yes.” He lowers himself back down, traces the jagged edges of the scar. “A…Drowner?”

He’s correct, of course, which is good considering they’d just come back from fighting with one. For a moment, Geralt thinks about telling him he’s wrong anyway but Jaskier asks him, in that hopeful way, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

And Geralt sighs and tells him about the first time he’d fought a Drowner.

He pretends to be surprised when Jaskier performs a ballad about it the next time they stop at an inn.

When they first start the game, Jaskier gets the scars wrong more often than not. He just doesn’t have the years of experience that Geralt has to immediately tell which bites and slashes came from what. Geralt doesn’t tell him a story on those days. Instead, he rolls them back over and sets Jaskier to singing again. But, it’s…nice, sometimes when Jaskier’s face lights up when he gets it right. And truthfully, the more he talks about the scars, the less awkward it becomes. He’d never tell Jaskier that though. The bard would never let him live it down.

There’s a night though when Jaskier runs his fingertips over an old scar on Geralt’s thigh, one that he knows intimately well and will never forget. He tenses under Jaskier’s hand at the memories it stirs and immediately, Jaskier pulls back. Geralt wonders when that happened, when they’d become so familiar with each other that Jaskier immediately knows when it’s not the time to push and moreover, actually doesn’t.

It’s that old familiarity that makes Geralt say, before he can regret it, “You can ask about that one.”

Jaskier hesitates. “Actually, I don’t know this one.”

Jaskier doesn’t usually hesitate and he’s never admitted that he doesn’t know what scarred Geralt, only taken wrong guesses. Geralt’s on the verge of ignoring the whole thing and just going to sleep but something, guilt maybe, pushes him to say, “A princess.”

“Ciri gave that to you?” Jaskier gasps, sounding scandalized.

Geralt sits up entirely, pushing Jaskier off his lap. Jaskier makes an affronted noise but Geralt just ignores him as he settles against the headboard. He reaches over and pulls Jaskier back into his lap, seats him between his spread thighs, the bard’s back to his front.

“Not Ciri,” he grunts.

“Who then?” Jaskier asks. He picks up one of Geralt’s hands and runs his thumb soothingly over it. “How many other princesses do we know?”

“You never met her. She died before we met.”

He tells him about Renfri, about her being born under a black sun and how that had, according to Stregobor, given her internal mutations meant to help usher in a new age of Lilit. He talks about how Stregobor had all but killed the girls he believed to be one of the sixty women, performing autopsies on them afterward to confirm his previously unsubstantiated theories, about how Renfri had escaped and sworn revenge on him. He speaks of Stregobor trying to hire him to kill her and how she had tried to get him to tell her where he was hiding and how he had turned down both of them, how he had tried to talk her into leaving Stregobor alone but she had gone back, how he had returned to face her, fearing for the lives of the townspeople. He tells him about their fight and how she died with the prophecy about Ciri’s destiny intertwined with his on her lips.

“Stregobor wanted to take her body,” he finishes. He’s talked more in the last thirty minutes than he has in a very long time and it’s beginning to take a toll on his voice. “He wanted to defile her corpse so he could prove he was right and when I tried to stop him, he turned the people’s fear against me to make them think she used her mutation to sway me to her side.”

“He gave you that name,” Jaskier finishes quietly, more subdued than usual. Geralt doesn’t have to ask him which name. He already knows. “Did she use her mutation on you?”

Geralt doubts it. He probably wouldn’t have killed her if she had. But there’s no way of knowing for sure. “Renfri just wanted her life back,” he says finally. “She didn’t want to be hunted. She wanted her happy childhood and the love of her father and to not have to fear the wizard every time she turned around.”

Jaskier nods to himself. “She wanted justice.”

And Geralt can’t think of anything more to add on to that besides, “Hmm.”

Jaskier’s quiet over the next couple of days, which is unusual enough that Geralt asks him if he’s feeling okay. And that apparently is out of character enough for Geralt that Jaskier turns it back on him by asking if he’s feeling okay and eventually Geralt gets irritated enough that he shuts the conversation down with a very eloquent, “Shut up.”

To his surprise, Jaskier does shut up and Geralt would ask again if everything’s okay but he doesn’t want to start up that conversation again.

He knows that Jaskier is working on a song. He keeps scribbling in that notebook of his and strumming chords on his lute but he never sings along so Geralt has no idea what the new song is about.

It’s not until the next inn they’re at—where Jaskier is asked to perform just about every witcher song in his repertoire—that he gets to hear any part of it. Jaskier is finishing up the song about the first time Geralt fought a Drowner, making every inch of Geralt regret that he’d ever told Jaskier that tale. Jaskier finishes with a flourish, takes a long drink from one of the mugs a patron shoves into his hand—

And then Jaskier, atop his table, yells, “I have a new song for you! Do you want to hear it?”

The tavern roars its approval.

“This one,” Jaskier begins, lowering to a hush. Even Geralt can’t quite stop himself from leaning in slightly with the rest of the crowd. Jaskier’s face is flushed and his eyes are bright. He’s in his element and Geralt loves him like this. “This one is about the Butcher of Blaviken.”

Geralt’s heart skips a beat. Surely—no—Jaskier wouldn’t do this to him, not after knowing how much that name hurt him.

Jaskier turns to him, something in his face softening. “The Butcher of Blaviken,” he continues, “and the Black Sun Princess.”

Startled, Geralt quirks his head. Jaskier smiles at him and nods encouragingly. Then he plays a chord on his lute and begins to sing—about a girl whose life was brutally snatched from her, about a girl who had to fight to survive, about a girl who knew that no matter what she did she would always be seen as a monster so she sought justice from the sorcerer who made her that way.

And the tavern cries.

And he sings about how she came across the witcher, who only wanted for her to find happiness, who turned away the sorcerer who wanted him to kill her, who faced her when she threatened the townspeople and all he wanted to do was take her away from that place.

And the tavern weeps.

And he tells them about how bravely she fought but how she was no match for the witcher, about how the witcher stood guard over her body as the sorcerer tried to defile her and when the sorcerer realized he wouldn’t get his way, he called the witcher, who had fought to protect a child, a murderer. And as he finishes, he looks directly at Geralt and asks them to tell him who was the real butcher that day: the girl who wanted her life back, the witcher who tried to protect the town, or the sorcerer who destroyed two lives?

And Geralt bows his head and allows himself to cry.

They don’t hear anything more about it for another month. They’re heading north for the winter, north to Kaer Morhen and to Ciri. They stop in an inn for the night. Jaskier is recovering from a head cold and refuses the innkeeper’s request to play. Geralt pays him with what little coin they have left. He would have made them sleep on the ground that night but Jaskier still looks too pale for him to feel comfortable making them sleep outside.

There’s a couple old farmers sitting beside them and it’s from them that Geralt overhears, “That’s right, heard they caught up to him only a few miles outside of Blaviken. Tore him to pieces, they did.”

“Serves him right,” the other one snorts. “Running to his ivory tower?”

“Aye. Shouldn’t have left it in the first place.”

Geralt exchanges a slightly confused glance with Jaskier, who turns to the farmers and asks, “Hope you don’t mind me cutting in. Who was torn to pieces?”

“That wizard from the ballad, Stregobor,” the first one says easily.

“Torn to pieces?” Geralt clarifies even as Jaskier asks, “From the ballad?”

“Aye, the one that bard sings about the black sun princess.”

For the first time, Jaskier doesn’t take credit as that bard. Instead, he leans back in his chair and beams at Geralt until he reluctantly smiles back.

“I think I would have liked Renfri,” Jaskier says a couple days later. He’s completely recovered by now, has his lungs and voice back to sing and complain loudly about the quality of their sleeping arrangements.

“She wouldn’t have liked you,” Geralt returns but there’s no heat to it. There never is anymore. “Would have told you to shut up.”

“Yes, well,” Jaskier says and the slightest blush dusts his cheeks, “all the best muses do.”

#alle writes #tumblr won't let me tag this person so i hope it makes it back to them #faeymouse #the witcher #geraskier

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hamliet · 4 years

Text

Tragic Snow White: Renfri as a Mirror to Ciri

So in my initial review of The Witcher (the show version) I talked about how I thought it was fitting that Renfri’s story was the one the show adapted first, because it perfectly articulated what the story’s main questions and themes would be. At the time I’d only read the first two books and hadn’t even started the main saga, and now that I’ve finished the main saga, I think Renfri’s story is even more important than I initially thought.

The story is a tragic foil to the entire Witcher saga, with Renfri as a foil of Yennefer to an extent, but especially a foil--even more of a parallel--to Ciri. It pretty much tells you exactly how the entire saga will end, even.

Spoilers for the books and potentially disturbing subject matter below.

Vilgefortz is to Ciri what Stregobor is to Renfri.

Stregobor and Vilgefortz both want to control little girls because of the circumstances of their birth.

Stregobor hunts Renfri because she was born during an eclipse known as the Black Sun (which is an alchemy reference, fyi). He believes all the girls born then are evil and hunts them to vivisect them. He claims Renfri was strangling puppies even as a child, but he is hardly a reliable source of information, so it’s impossible to say. All we know is that he persuaded Renfri’s stepmother, the Queen, to hire a huntsman to murder Renfri. But she lives, just like Snow White... or not. Here’s how she summarizes it to Geralt:

Like Renfri, Ciri is a princess whose life is thrown into chaos and violence. For Ciri, though, it’s because her kingdom fell, and she has to run. Vilgefortz and Emhyr (and like, the mages, also the elves, also half the world) hunt Ciri because of almost the exact opposite reason: after years of genetic experiments, Ciri is prophesied to give birth to a son who will save the world from a coming calamity. However, no one thinks that Ciri might have opinions on what is done to her own body.

Vilgefortz, in particular, is notably similar to Stregobor in that what he wants to do to Ciri is absolutely grotesque: artificially inseminate her and then rip out her placenta to study it, so that he might obtain power. Both men look to treat these girls’ bodies to suit their own selfish needs for prestige while under the guise of the “greater good.” It’s disgusting, and as Geralt says to Emhyr:

“The ends justify the means,” the Emperor said flatly. “I do it for the future of the world. For its salvation.”

“If you have to save the world like this,” the witcher lifted his head, “this world would be better off disappearing. Believe me… it would be better to perish.”

Like Ciri, Renfri takes on another identity that isn’t really who she is. She becomes known as Shrike for her method of killing, but she asks Geralt not to call her that. Ciri goes by Falka when she runs around with the Rats, the name of an ancestor of hers who was a princess sent away by the king as a baby, who grew and led a rebellion, killing her family in revenge before ultimately being executed herself.

Shrike and Falka are the worst of Renfri and Ciri, and so it is meaningful that Renfri asks Geralt not to call her Shrike. She tells him to kill Stregobor to save the town, because she cannot renounce her vengeance, going so far as to risk her safety to sneak into his room and ask him. She asks him not to make her Shrike, not to let her kill, but she cannot let Stregobor live after all she has suffered.

Geralt believes Renfri can change, urges her to leave her past, cares deeply for her, yet ends up having to kill her because he wasn’t able to fully understand the depths of Renfri’s pain (I’m not saying he should have killed Stregobor, merely pointing out that he does fail here). He cannot make a decision and reacts instead of acting, and by then no good options are left. Yet, at the very least, he refuses to allow Stregobor to touch her body. The Witcher is a decently straightforward fictionalization of the argument that women have the right to control their bodies.

We see Geralt responding to Ciri’s predicament as if she is a second chance for Geralt after Renfri. Instead of being reactive, he is proactive, trying to protect her before the fall of Cintra and then trying to destroy her enemies. However, he still struggles to understand just what it was that Renfri was asking him for. It wasn’t just to act. It was to empathize with her pain. Ciri, too, winds up feeling abandoned by Geralt, and after a series of terrible events, winds up following a similarly murderous path just like Renfri. In trying to prevent a repeat, Geralt almost caused a repeat.

However, thankfully, this does not happen, because Geralt and Yennefer’s genuine love for Ciri, even if imperfect, helps Ciri pull out of her spiral, whereas Renfri was never given the chance. Yennefer is absolutely instrumental to this, because, like Renfri, she’s a bitter, emotional, and violent person, determined to get what she wants. And that is why when Yennefer is so determined to self-destruct just to control the djinn, Geralt chooses to empathize and use his last wish to, presumably somehow, tie her fate to his to save her. Ciri has seen this empathetic part of Geralt even as he tries to cloak it in other coping mechanisms, and so she has hope, while Renfri did not know Geralt beyond their time in Blaviken.

Notably, the narrative does not condemn Renfri for this even though she dies. It’s seen as a tragedy, with Renfri as someone worth mourning. Additionally, her death and her questions haunt Geralt. Her questions are the ones he essentially finally answers with the above quote to Emhyr: what is the lesser evil? And his answer is that you can’t make a right world on the foundation of hurting someone--anyone.

As Renfri states, Geralt is terrible at making decisions, and this is why he has to repeatedly struggle to make decisions and learn to pursue people and to give people second chances--Yennefer, Jaskier, Regis, Cahir, Angoulême, Ciri. Through helping others redeem themselves, he redeems himself; through finding others, in learning to empathize with them and to trust them, he finds himself.

#the witcher meta #yennefer of vengerberg #renfri #geralt of rivia #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #princess cirilla #the witcher saga #andrzej sapkowski #witcher meta #netflix's the witcher #yenralt #yennefer x geralt

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likecastle · 4 years

Text

Witcher Noir AU, pt 17

More Witcher noir AU! Previous parts here.

“So this was your big plan?” Jaskier asks, looking around them with a dubious expression. “Somehow I thought your next move would be a little more . . . daring.”

Geralt follows Jaskier’s gaze, scanning the room for Cirilla’s pale blonde hair. There’s no sign of her, but it’s early yet, the crowd thin ahead of the first morning rush.

“After an assassination attempt, a little light breaking and entering, and a police interrogation, waking up at the crack of dawn for the twenty-five cent special at the automat hardly seems like an escalation.” Jaskier pokes at the gelatinous eggs on his plate. “Really, Geralt, you’ve got to consider the fundamentals of the three-act structure when you make these choices. Where’s the drama?”

“Had to be early,” Geralt says, glancing out the plate glass window at the sidewalk across the street. The corner is empty for now, the front of the hotel quiet. “If they come in again, it’ll be before his shift starts.”

Jaskier frowns at him over the edge of his coffee cup. “Are you ever going to let me in on what, exactly, we’re doing here? Or has this all been an extremely elaborate ruse to take me out to eat? Because if it is, you could have just asked me out like a normal person.”

This distracts Geralt from his surveillance. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks, but Jaskier doesn’t even seem to notice.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he goes on, wincing at the coffee. “I’m having a lovely time, really I am.” He sets his cup down and pushes it away. “But the last time I was here this early, I’d just watched the sun come up from the Palace’s rooftop bar and I was still drunk. Which I’d say, judging by the looks of our fellow diners, isn’t an unusual state of affairs around here at this hour.”

“Hm,” Geralt replies. The crowd does look a little worse for wear—a few lean-and-hungry artist types splitting a single plate of food between them, and a couple of drunks who look like they’re trying to sober up before heading home after a night out on the town. He wonders what Cirilla made of this place, as she sat here waiting for the newsboy to finish his shift the other day. It’s certainly a change from the luxury hotel across the street, and a far cry from what Cirilla must be used to. But Calanthe’s granddaughter is tough—has to be, to have escaped her grandmother’s killer—and she’s not likely to be intimidated by some down-on-their luck regulars. Geralt prefers to picture her deep in thought, absorbed in some kind of plan that is as yet inscrutable to Geralt.

“So that’s a no, then?”

Geralt has to admit he may have lost the thread of their conversation. “What?”

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s going on here? What did I tell you about keeping secrets? It’s only charming up to a point, Geralt.” Jaskier takes another nervous sip of his coffee, and recoils. “Ugh, that really is abysmal. I mean, I can’t fault you for wanting to play things close to the vest. I know I haven’t exactly given you a lot of reasons to trust me, but—”

“It’s not . . .” Geralt doesn’t like the thought that Jaskier blames himself for Geralt’s reticence. “It’s just, I’m not used to . . .” He waves his hand to indicate the space between them, the gesture hopelessly vague. “I’ve worked alone for a long time. Don’t have to explain yourself much when you’ve got no one to talk to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says quietly, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Well, for the record, I like it when you talk to me.”

Geralt’s noticed. “Before I came to talk to you that first time, I spoke to a kid who sells newspapers out in front of the Palace. I didn’t put it together at the time, but when I saw that napkin in Cirilla’s purse, a few thing started to make a little more sense. I think he was looking out for her.”

“And you want to see if they’ll come back,” Jaskier concludes.

Geralt nods. “It’s a longshot, but long shots are all I’ve got at the moment. Speaking of which, I should make a phone call, but . . .” He glances at the door, reluctant to give up his surveillance of the street.

“I can keep watch for a few minutes,” Jaskier says. “What’s the kid look like, in case he comes in without her?”

“Black, tall for fourteen or fifteen. He was wearing a cap pulled down low on his head, last time I saw him.”

“Got it,” Jaskier says. “Go on, I’ve got this. You’ll be gone, what, five minutes? The worst thing that could possibly happen in that amount of time is that I’ll contract food poisoning, all right? It’ll be fine.” Jaskier smiles reassuringly, and he looks so terribly lovely in that moment that Geralt almost can’t stand to look at him.

There’s a phone booth half a block down the street. Geralt calls his answering service, and the operator informs him he has half a dozen messages from Renfri—all simply telling her to call her back. As he dials Renfri’s number, he tries to school the hopeful feeling expanding in his chest.

Renfri answers on the third ring, sounding annoyed to be woken to early. “This had better be good,” she snaps.

“You’re the one who wanted me to call you,” Geralt points out.

“Oh, it’s you.” Renfri’s voice softens, but not by much. “Finally.”

“What’s up?”

“So you know how you asked me to figure out how Stregobor was connected to Emhyr?” Geralt doesn’t respond, because he knows better than to interrupt Renfri. “Well, it turns out to be a more interesting question than I originally thought. Everybody I talked to said Stregobor’s been in Emhyr’s pocket ever since Emhyr first turned up on the scene, back around the time we entered the war.”

Geralt is surprised to realize that Emhyr, who is easily the most influential person in the city, has only been a player for a handful of years. It’s easy to believe that those in power have always been in power, but this is a reminder that their control is more tenuous than they like to admit. Emhyr rose to power over the course of only a few years, and Calanthe’s grasp on the city was destroyed in a moment. Who can say what things might look like tomorrow?

“Emhyr has made several major donations to the Policeman’s Brotherhood, the department’s so-called charitable organization—though from what I’ve heard, that money helps more for dirty cops than widows and orphans.” Renfri rustles some papers on the other end of the line. “And there’s pretty much a direct pipeline for disgraced cops to go work for Emhyr—anyone who’s been fired from the department, Emhyr will snap them up to work for one of his security teams, no questions asked. It all sounds like pretty bog-standard police corruption to me.”

“So what’s the interesting part?” Geralt asks.

“The thing that struck me as odd was that nobody seemed to be able to tell me anything about Emhyr from earlier than five or six years back. Nobody just comes out of thin air like that, you know?”

“Hm,” Geralt says.

“Exactly.” He can hear that sharp edge in her voice that tells him she’s about to get to the good part. “So I did a little digging—you know, to try and see if I could figure out how the two of them had first started working together. Guess what I found?”

“I didn’t call to play twenty questions,” he reminds her.

“Spoilsport,” Renfri says, but that tense excitement doesn’t leave her voice. “Emhyr owns this little import-export business called Amell Transport International—which, on its own, isn’t anything unusual. Guys like him usually have all kinds of shell corporations and even legitimate businesses to provide cover for their criminal dealings. But get this: when the business was first established in 1941, Amell Transport International was called Urcheon Enterprises, and Stregobor was the only name listed on the original article of incorporation.”

Geralt squints down at the pay phone, struggling to make sense of this development. Amell Transport International is where Eist was killed, where Cirilla returned for some unknown reason, and Urcheon has to be the word that was written on the water-marked napkin Geralt found in her abandoned purse. “So Stregobor sold Emhyr his import business?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Renfri says, “but then I noticed something even stranger.” She doesn’t pause for suspense this time. “The address Stregobor listed on that original paperwork? It’s not his home address. It’s a townhouse owned by none other than Calanthe.”

Geralt’s stomach drops and his limbs turn cold. “Did you say ’41? When in 1941?”

“December, I think. Why?”

Just then, Geralt becomes aware of a commotion coming from down the street. He turns to see several people rushing out of one of the nearby storefronts, screaming as they scatter in all directions. But it’s not just any shop, he realizes with a lurch. They’re fleeing from the automat.

“Renfri,” he hears himself over the sudden ringing in his ears, “I’ve got to go.”

Part eighteen

#the witcher #witcher au #noir au #witcher noir au #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #renfri of creyden #renfri #cirilla of cintra #ciri #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #gerlion #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them #i keep meaning to put this up on ao3 and getting stymied by a little #a story in search of a title #plot is hard folks i can't in good conscience recommend it

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b-witchered · 4 years

Note

Eeeeeeeeeee! I love tgia SO MUCH❤️ Any chance of more Renfri and Renfri&Yennefer? 🥺 The parallels on chapter 11 were f***ing amazing. (Thank you for writing the alive!Renfri we all deserved)

Renfri and Yennefer definitely get more scenes together! However, I do fear I’m setting up some of my readers for failure oops. Renfri/Yennefer as a couple isn’t going to happen within the scope of tgia for a few reasons

PUTTING THIS UNDER THE CUT, plus a little tgia snippet from the next chapter, because i have never been accused of being concise in my life

Honestly? They might have slept together at some point when Geralt and Yennefer were on the outs. They’re both very attractive individuals, danger and almost dying clearly gets Yennefer fired up, and Renfri has been known to make questionable sexual choices when it comes to Very Dangerous Individuals. So their relationship probably does include some flirting, some pushing of boundaries, some erotic subtext where Renfri has at least once put her sword under Yennefer’s chin and tilted it up

But when it comes to an actual relationship, Renfri at least is smart enough to put her foot down. They’re fine as rivals-friends-frenemies, but Renfri has some serious trust issues. Especially with mages. Especially with brotherhood mages. Yennefer knows Stregobor. She might not like him, but they belong to the same order.

And then there’s the big thing between them: Yennefer wants kids. She wants, desperately, to be a mother. This is tied into her whole desperation for unconditional love thing she has going on. Renfri? Does not want kids. Absolutely against them. If she somehow gave birth tomorrow, that kid would be either adopted out or in Jaskier’s care quicker than you could say “curse of the black sun”. It’s not even that Renfri doesn’t like kids. She’d be a great weird-aunt-who-gives-an-8-year-old-a-real-sword-as-a-present. But Renfri does not want to be responsible for a child’s life and health and safety.

There are other little things. I love comparing and contrasting Renfri and Yennefer in tgia honestly because it’s so much fun? Yennefer was born a peasant and clings desperately to the power and prestige her magic affords her. Renfri was born a princess and cast it aside with pride so that she could be as unladylike as she pleased. Both of them knowing that power means sacrifice. It’s a gilded cage to be sure, but it’s still a cage. Yennefer was willing to make the sacrifices and change herself to gain power while Renfri ran. Granted, Renfri ran for many reasons but let’s be real, tgia!Renfri wouldn’t have stuck around to be married off and shuffled away to a quiet corner of the kingdom, out of sight out of mind.

Renfri was a princess, but her father was a King with male heirs. No matter what parallels I draw, her situation was vastly different from Princess Pavetta, sole heir of Queen Calanthe. And even then, even then with circumstances giving her great importance and a parent in power who should have been sympathetic to her plight, Pavetta was still a pawn on a board who was expected to marry a man she did not love for a political match and then become a background trophy. But even so, Pavetta would always have been Queen and the keeper of her bloodline, and so retained at least some power. Until she produced an heir of course, after which she would have become... less important to keep alive.

Renfri on the other hand? After Jaskier’s birth, she’s a spare. Jaskier is the male heir, and so he got to leapfrog over Renfri in the inheritance. Renfri is officially a bargaining chip, one that doesn’t even have to be compromised with because she is not going to be running the country. As best she could maybe hope to strike a political match with a prince and become a queen of somewhere not her homeland, with little power and easily replaceable. But Stregobor claimed Renfri had internal mutations, ones that might make her sterile, and so as a bride she would be... undesirable to say the least, except perhaps as a bride to a widower who already had heirs to follow him and needed no more. Perhaps to a second son who needed a bride but whose family tree needed no new branches. Which means she would likely be married off to a man, possibly very much her senior, probably not a King but perhaps a Lord (or lord’s son) currently in the king’s favor. This choice would have been made for her, and she would have been expected to accept her new position with grace.

Yennefer’s father sold her away as well. Yennefer’s father struck a financial deal. Renfri’s father’s deal would have been political in nature, likely. Yennefer was bargained away to the brotherhood, Renfri would have been bargained away to a man.

(me, loudly: what about the implications of a mage organization comprised of all genders being called the brotherhood.)

Renfri and Yennefer each have. A lot of issues. A lot of these issues would make then incompatible for a longterm relationship. Renfri needs someone she can feel safe with, and that someone is never going to be a brotherhood mage, even if it could even be a mage at all. Yennefer needs someone who loves her unconditionally, who places her first, always. She needs to be someone’s first priority. That doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic relationship mind you, but either way that person can’t be Renfri. For Renfri, her first priority is Jaskier. Always. Just like Jaskier’s first priority will always be Renfri.

(He loves Geralt, he does, but if Geralt was his first priority then he would have told him about his sister long ago. Geralt is important to him, and he would move heaven and earth for the Witcher, but his sister is the only family he dares to claim and he defeated death itself in her name.)

Yennefer and Renfri both have serious control issues as well. Yennefer has literally mind controlled Geralt before, has manipulated him, and keeps him on his toes. She has this need to be in control, and for the most part Geralt is fine with following where she leads, and that makes her feel safe with Geralt. Up to and until she finds out that Geralt’s wish might be the reason why she loves him, and then all of a sudden it isn’t her in control, it’s some untamable uncontrollable magic, and she absolutely flips her lid. She’s furious! She feels betrayed! All this time she thought she was in control, but then she finds out that Geralt tied their fates together or whatever.

(Thankfully, this isn’t an issue in tgia, but Yennefer also doesn’t exactly love Geralt in tgia so much as she loves being loved. Their major conflict in tgia is probably going to be about children, honestly, because Geralt sure as fuck doesn’t want any.)

Renfri? Also would very much need to be in control of a relation. Maybe especially the sexual aspects of it considering her trauma involving that. She’s pretty, and that hasn’t done her any favors. She bristles under restrictions and has broken the door of every cage people have tried to shove her into, including death though she had a little bit of help from Jaskier breaking out of that one. She’s protective, and secretive, and has trust issues a mile wide. She never even tells people her name. Every piece of personal information is carefully controlled. And who can blame her for her trust issues a mile wide? She was assaulted when she was fifteen. At least one man she willingly lay with literally murdered her the morning after (thanks Geralt). Renfri has issues with intimacy.

So yes, while I love throwing them in scenes together and I love their snarky terrible friendship where Yennefer proposes they do something terribly dangerous and Renfri is like “...i mean i GUESS i’ll go.” unless she has a prior commitment OR it conflicts with her primary motivation of protecting Jaskier (getting too close to Geralt threatens this purpose), they won’t be getting together in the scope of the fic

which i hope people won’t be too disappointed by oof

sorry for writing you a whole essay about Renfri and Yennefer when you probably did not want it lmao, as you can see this has been pressing on my mind and tumbled about more than a little bit.

(honestly though if Pavetta hadn’t been married to Duny and hopelessly in love with him, I might have shipped her and Renfri tbh. They had plenty in common, Pavetta had magic and would have been powerful enough to defend herself but wasn’t a brotherhood mage, they got along well and had inside jokes, the only thing standing in the way of that ship (besides Duny and. you know. the whole death thing) is that Renfri wouldn’t be too keen on becoming a queen/having to deal with shithead nobles again and the whole issue of Stregobor. But Renfri is a princess of a royal bloodline, was raised to be royalty with knowledge of court customs, and is a trained and blooded warrior. Let’s be real, Calanthe would have loved Renfri as a daughter-in-law. Renfri is exactly the ruthless sort of heir Calanthe would adore. There would be the issue of an heir of course, but as long as Pavetta was the one pregnant it wouldn’t be a big deal because Pav’s the one with the important bloodline to carry on.)

ANYWAY you have been very patient with me so here is a tiny Yennefer and Renfri snippet from the next chapter -

As soon as they’re alone, Renfri turns to Yennefer. “I’m going to kill you for this. One day. Sleep with one eye open, Witch.”

“Come now,” Yennefer teases, “It can’t have been that bad.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if he’s criminally stupid or just ignoring the obvious.” Renfri hisses, “I’m carrying a sword. What kind of handmaiden beheads a bandit?”

“A very loyal one.” Yennefer offers, but she’s trying way too hard to keep a straight face and Renfri can see the smile she’s doing her damnest to contain.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill him in his sleep the fourth time he started extolling your virtues for taking an ‘unpolished peasant’ under your wing.”

That makes Yennefer break face and give a most unladylike snort that she covers with one dainty hand. “You know,” She says, laughter still in her voice, “I wouldn’t need him if you just agreed to go with me.”

“If this is you trying to annoy me into going on an adventure with you, the answer is no.” Renfri immediately states. “Need I mention the last time you talked me into going monster hunting for you? There was a fucking manticore nest, Yennefer.”

“You enjoyed yourself, admit it.” Yennefer smiles with a flip of her hair.

Renfri presses her hand together and then presses them to her lips like she’s about to start praying for Yennefer to get some sense in her empty, empty head. “You are literally insane. You know that right? Stark raving mad.”

#tgia commentary #the witcher #tgia #to grow in adveristy #tgia snippet #tgia spoiler #renfri and yennefer are weird rival bros and that's all they shall have to be unfortunately #renfri disapproves of yennefer's dragon fighting companion #renfri: you aren't a bard yennefer you can't just fuck your way out of problems #yennefer: i CAN and i WILL #i do love comparing and contrasting them though #the noble who cast abandoned her birthright #and the peasant who clawed her way into power #yennefer #renfri #sorry to everyone shipping them in my fic #i gave it a lot of thought!!#but it ain't happening #in the scope of my fic that is #y'all can decide i'm being dumb and headcanon what y'all wish #or write aus where they get together i don't mind #where's my poly renfri/pavetta/duny v relationship #renfri and duny only tolerating each other for pavetta's sake but also like. kicking each other under the table #when they think she isn't paying attention #(she is)#renfri: this is my gf pavetta and unfortunately this is her bf duny #duny: you're right but hey #everyone else: i ship yennefer and renfri in your fic!!#me: we can go more obscure

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sageclover61 · 4 years

Text

It’s Only A Myth Witchers Don’t Need Family

@geraskierweek

TITLE: It’s Only A Myth Witcher’s Don’t Need Family

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @sageclover61

PROMPT DAY #: Day 6, Found Family

SUMMARY: The general population is wrong about a long of things. Witchers have feelings, Mages have feelings, and Bards are more than the shenanigans they get up to. Geralt might think he doesn't care what others believe him to be, but he's more than their hatred and their fears. Over time, he learns a valuable lesson about his pack.

WORD COUNT (if applicable):4881

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: NA

RATING: T

ADDITIONAL NOTES: AO3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828018

Everyone knows that Witchers don’t have feelings. They don’t form attachments, they can’t feel anything , and they’re no better than the monsters that they hunt. Those who believe in souls would say that Witchers don’t have them, can’t have them, because they’re too inhuman for a thing as human as a soul.

Some say that Witchers were born without souls, and others would say that they were cut out of them. Either way, they were inhuman.

They’re wrong. Witchers didn’t do families. Or attachment. But it’s a choice, a rule, a law . They’re sterile, and the only thing that separates them from the monsters that they hunt is the choices that they make. But not because they were incapable of attachments or feelings. Rather, they felt everything too strongly, and used the coldness they displayed as a means to protect themselves.

They could live forever. No one around them was going to. Human lives were a single grain of sand in the hourglass of the universe.

Everyone knows that mages trade their capacity to feel things for the enhancements that make them beautiful and immortal and powerful. It makes them cold, and petty, and amoral. They’re human, anymore. They’re something greater.

Humanity fears them for it, and uses them, and craves to be like them in the same pretty sentences they weave to use to abuse them.

Mages don’t want families. They sacrifice their ability to have children in exchange for power. They don’t need anyone. Not to depend on, not to be dependent on them. They did live forever. Even the lives of the Witchers were but a grain of sand.

Everyone knows that bards aren’t to be trusted. Their words hid too much behind them, charming wives away from their husbands, husbands away from their wives, and running away before anything could be done about it.

But there were whispers, in dark corners of taverns at night, when no bards were around. Rumors of clandestine meetings, from which only the bard would leave alive and of coin trading hands as quickly as daggers sinking into hearts, and strange concoctions being tipped into drinks when no one was watching, leaving the drinker dead by morning.

They didn’t have families. They didn’t need families, all the bastard children running around unclaimed. They didn’t have time for them. Lives too short, too many places to visit and epic ballads to write, and deaths to be gleaned at the hands of jilted lovers.

They’re wrong, about Witchers. Witchers are less than human, but they’re more, too. If humanity is defined by their capacity to feel, then Witchers are defined not only by their infinitely greater senses, but also their infinitely greater capacity to feel .

Geralt can’t speak for all the Witchers, but he finds that their disdain for him makes everything, easier, somehow. They hate him, so they send him on his way once he’s helped them, often without paying all that he’s owed, and it’s easier to keep himself from getting attached to them. He says little, cloaking himself in a facade of whatever the fuck they need to keep from desiring to get closer to him.

He pretends so well and for so long, that he forgets that he’s pretending. Opinions of him decrease and decrease, until he didn’t know they could get any worse, and then it does get worse.

“You say that you can’t choose but you had to, and you’ll never know if you were right. Your reward will be a stoning and you will run. You will try to outrun the girl in the woods and you cannot. She is your destiny.”

She does not tell him that the stoning is his reward for caring so much, but it is. He cares deeply, and impossibly, and being able to do so is supposed to be against the way of the Witcher.

He kills neither the girl nor the mage, but the whole town of Blaviken is dead.

Geralt uses a Witcher Sign, and he wonders if anyone else had ever thought of such a use for it. He uses Axii to wipe the knowledge of the curse of the black sun from Stregobor’s mind, and force him to forget about Renfri.

He manages to convince Renfri to stop hunting him, and move on with her life. She’s safe, now. She doesn’t have to run unless she wants to, and she can discover for herself what she wants.

She’s 16 and she has never had peace. But she can have it now, she deserves it.

Renfri trails after him for 3 days, and then, she is gone, having chosen for herself what comes next.

She was the first of Geralt’s pack, though she did not know it.

Jaskier was, in all probability, the sluttiest slut who had ever been a slut. If not, he was definitely the sluttiest bard who’d ever existed. He who would happily charm into his bed anything and everything that could possibly consent to joining him there. The husbands, the wives, the elves, the monsters, even those who believed themselves to be the most celibate of priests and priestesses allowed themselves to be charmed into his bed.

He loved this life of performing for the masses, and running from vengeful cuckolds. Jaskier had always craved some more adventure, and this was as fun as it got.

But then, the great Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, walked into the bar while he was playing, and he knew that even greater adventure awaited him.

His first adventure, and he even ended up with a brand new, elven crafted, lute. From Filavander, the king of the elves. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but then he was falling in love with the Witcher who didn’t use enough words, and, who despite his course addressing of him, treated him well.

Tumbling into Geralt’s bedroll with him, there was no place on the entire Continent that he would rather be.

He was the second member of Geralt’s pack, and followed by his side, faithfully, for twenty three years.

Yennefer did not have a choice. She had a series of impossible decisions, and a destiny that led in a direction she did not wish for, so she broke it. No longer was she the little girl to accept the hand of cards that had been dealt to her. No. She needed no one. She was as alone as she had always been, but she chose power over being a wife or a mother. She did not know that was her choice.

She did not know that humanity despised mages, even while demanding their services to fix their messes. Yennefer had the potential to be the greatest mage to ever exist, and yet for thirty years she was nothing more than a royal arse wiper.

Nobody. She was nobody. She was hated and despised by the same people whose very lives depended on her. It was not what she had envisioned, nor was it the power she’d so desired.

But then she was escorting the queen and the new darling princess the queen didn’t even want, and she could not allow her to so callously attempt to bargain with the assassin for her own life, with the life of her child.

What mother was willing to allow a fiend her child if it meant that she could live?

The assassin kills the mother with a single blade, but Yennefer is willing to risk her own life to save the babe, and the magic accepts her desire without requiring her life.

The baby wasn’t born of her blood, but she realizes that’s okay. She doesn’t know what Kalis named her daughter, so Yennefer names the baby Ksenia.

Yennefer hates being trapped in a gilded cage for a stupid mayor of a stupid town in a stupid country that she hates infinitely. But she must provide for the little girl she’s raising as her own, and this is the only way, now that she’s left the Aedirn court.

Ksenia is almost ten, and Yennefer loves her more than she's ever loved anyone, and if the mayor so much as touches a single hair of her head, she's burning this town down.

She was entertaining herself with a masked orgy when a Witcher brought her a pitcher of apple juice and a dying bard. What wish did they make, she wondered, as she mixed the antidote for the tumor in the throat.

Could she use the Witcher to get the mayor off her back? She didn’t want her daughter growing up here. It simply wasn’t the best place for her to be. So what to do…

In retrospect, using the Witcher to attack the members of the council she hated the most, especially before she knew all of what was going on, was an incredibly stupid mistake. She was lucky Ksenia hadn’t suffered any harm, once the djinn had set its sights on the house they were all in.

So was the fact that Geralt had made the third wish silently. It could be anything. But whatever wish he’d made, Ksenia was safe, and so was she. It had to be good enough.

“You know, you could have just told me that you wanted to get yourself out of this place.”

Yennefer turned around quickly, seeing the Witcher standing behind her. “And how do I know you truly would have helped us? Your kind isn’t so fond of my kind, as I recall.”

She could hear the bard speaking with Ksenia, but it wasn’t important. Whatever Geralt was about to say, however, she could feel that it would be one of the most important things she would hear for a very long time.

“Contrary to popular belief, Witchers aren’t all heartless beings. Regardless of my feelings towards someone, I will not ignore a child in danger, especially when there is a chance I can help save them.”

Yennefer didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent, watching her daughter. The daughter whose life she had risked foolishly, because she had been too selfish to ask for assistance.

Ksenia was laughing at something the bard had said, she wasn’t sure what. When had she last seen such a carefree expression on her child’s face? Had she really spent so much valuable time with this worthless situation, when there were so many more important things? Like whether or not her daughter was happy ?

There was a sigh from Geralt, then, as he moved to leave. “I will not keep you from your child any longer than I already have. All I ask is that should anything happen, you ask for help, before it is too late.”

“Ksenia.” She did not raise her voice, loathe as she was to separate her from what she was finding so hilarious, but she also needed to know that the child really was okay after all that had happened.

“Yes, Mama?” Ksenia turned her head in recognition of her name being called, but she didn’t move the rest of her body, and she was still grinning, eyes still laughing. She somehow looked younger than her nine years. Smaller and more innocent, but not unhealthy. Not injured .

“It’s time to go, My Heart. There’s another home waiting for us elsewhere.” She didn’t know where, but there would be somewhere . Anywhere would be better than this place had been for them.

Yennefer and her daughter were the third and fourth additions to Geralt’s pack, and neither of them had any idea.

“And what does a Mage like you want with a dragon hunt?” Jaskier asked the next they saw Yennefer. “Don’t you have a daughter to be looking after?”

The expression of sour hurt that spread across Yennefer’s face was almost enough for him to regret his taunt. But it wasn’t until she said, “Ksenia is dying from dragon pox, I need the dragon’s heart to cure it,” that he really regretted it.

Even after so long, he could still remember the fear in his sisters’ eyes as they heard of a mysterious plague sweeping through the land, and the horror in his parents’ eyes when the youngest had fallen ill with it. He could remember watching helplessly as it spread from one sister to the next, as his parents locked his sisters away in a room, unable to watch as the sickness slowly stole away their lives.

“Jaskier-”

It had been the strangest, and deadliest plague. A wasting illness, a horrible rash, an ever rising fever. It had left them bedridden, lost in waking nightmares. Famished, but unable to eat, and sweating more than they could possibly hope to drink. He could still hear their screams, as the disease had taken weeks to run its course. Though he had been told to stay away, he just couldn’t. He’d snuck into their room, laying with them, and holding them as they shook and cried, praying to any god who would listen to spare his baby sisters.

But it had all been pointless. A month after the first signs had been noticed, they had all been stolen away from him, leaving him alone to face his parents.

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier found himself blinking, staring at Geralt in confusion. When had the Witcher moved in front of him? “Geralt? What’s the matter?”

Golden eyes stared back at him, narrowed in concern. “You were speaking with Yennefer, but froze. I’ve been trying to get your attention for several minutes now.” he paused for a moment, eyes searching for any unseen wounds, but Jaskier knew that he wouldn’t find any. “What happened?”

He shook his head, trying to calm his heart as he put on the same fake smile he’d been forced to wear all those years ago. “It’s nothing, I was just distracted for a moment.”

Jaskier might have missed the whole of the battle sleeping in, but the fight he’d missed had nothing on the scene he witnessed now. The whole of the dragon’s lair was littered with blossoming flowers in a pale blue, yellow, and dark purple, and in the back of the cave, alongside the massive body of the green dragon, a golden egg was glowing .

He’d never seen this kind of flower before, but even from where he was standing, he could feel the magic emanating from the petals, so thick it was almost impossible to breathe.

His sisters would have loved it. A sunny meadow would have been prettier, but even a cave full of flowers in their favorite colors would have been a hit.

Despite himself, he reached down to pick one of the pale blue ones. Even as he bent now, it felt like blasphemy to vandalize it, but he just wanted to get a better look at the flower that reminded him so much of his youngest sister.

Even as he severed the stem, the flower crumbled into dust.

“Humans have all but wiped the dragons out, believing them to hold all manner of cures for their ailments. Fertility, blindness, lost limbs, even to hold the secrets of immortality. They’re wrong. There is no cure that can restore your womb.”

Jaskier glanced to where Borch was standing in front of Yennefer. Borch was holding a handful of the flowers that he’d just tried, and failed, to pick.

“These flowers only grow where dragon fire has burned, but they’re most common where we hatch our young. I give these to you freely. My heart will heal yours.”

“ Dragon’s Heart,” Yennefer gasped.

Jaskier swallowed heavily. “Borch,” he said, quietly. He did not think he could speak louder, but he also did not think the gold dragon would have any trouble hearing him. “Would flowers like these… have saved them?”

“Perhaps, Julien Alfred Pankratz.”

His insides burned at how ironic it was that flowers in their favorite colors might have saved the lives of his little sisters. There was a very sad, very epic ballad in there somewhere.

A dragon’s fire breathes new life.

“You may take these with you, Bard.” Borch handed him a bouquet of three flowers, one in each color. One for each sister. “They will not wilt, and if you were to plant them, they would grow.”

“Thank you.” There were no words that Jaskier could say that would convey his gratitude. But his heart burned, too. These were the flowers that would have saved the lives of his little sisters, and he was only holding them too many decades too late to be of use. “Yennefer, may I come with you?” He was intimately familiar with dragon pox. At the very least, he could help Ksenia feel more comfortable while Yennefer prepared the medicine to cure it.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier turned around, and walked towards where Geralt was standing outside the cave. He hugged the witcher. “I need this,” he whispered, brokenly, even as Geralt kissed his forehead. “I need closure. And you need to go find your Child Surprise. She needs you.”

“I know you do.” Geralt’s voice was soft, almost softer than Jaskier thought was possible. “I’ll find you, or you will find me, when you’re ready. And by then, I may have my Child Surprise, ready for you to meet.”

Yennefer made the cure for dragon pox, and Ksenia lived.

And Jaskier found himself in a place he’d never ever thought he’d return.

There were three marked graves in a meadow in Lettenhove. The pox had been believed too contagious for them to be buried in the family graveyard, so they had been buried here instead. This was almost easier, however, because it meant that he could carry out his task without any witnesses.

He planted the baby blue flower over the first grave, the purple flower over the second grave, and the yellow flower over the third.

“Answer your calling,” his eldest sister had said, her dying words to him, as he’d held her hand and fervently wished that she would live. “Go be a bard.”

He had spent his entire childhood trying to be the very best big brother that he could be. He’d learned to braid their hair, and had played dress up with them, and stolen their mother’s makeup, and cooked with them. He’d also sung an infinite number of songs, and read bedtime stories or made them up, and all in all, they were his fondest memories.

But they had been gone for decades, and he’d left very soon after their deaths, unable to cope with their absences in a house in which the ghosts weighed more than the air they breathed.

There had been no joy, and the pain had not only been emotional.

“In a house of too many secrets

There’s no people, only their strife.

At the end of dying meadows,

A dragon’s fire breathes new life.”

He sighed. “No, no, that’s not right. There needs to be something about the memories in that house. It was… rife with them.”

“Excuse me. I’m sorry, are you desecrating those graves?”

Jaskier spun around. A brown haired woman was leaning against a tree at the edge of the meadow. She looked young, but looks could be deceiving. “Excuse you, I would never . If you must know, they’re family.”

“Sometimes our blood is the people we want to hurt the most. I’m Renfri. You’re… Jaskier, the bard, right?”

She was armed, but she hadn’t drawn her blade, nor did he think that she was about to attack him. Or at least, he hoped not. He was armed too, at least. If it came to that. Not that he was very useful with a blade.

“They died of dragon pox. I wish them no ill will, I’m simply here for closure. What brings you to the graves of three Lettenhove daughters who didn’t even have the respect of being buried in their family graveyard?”

“I had heard that the bard who traveled with the white wolf of Rivia was traveling this way, and I wanted to meet you. I’m on my way to see Geralt again, it’s been… a number of years since I saw him last, and I thought it would be polite to ask if you cared to accompany me.”

Jaskier looked back at the graves. The flowers seemed… healthier, than when he’d planted them. Taller, perhaps, if that was even possible.

“As I’m sure you know, there’s an inn not that far from here. I’m leaving in the morning, but we can stop here as we leave.”

He didn’t have his closure yet, but he did also greatly want to go back to Geralt. He’d been feeling lethargic for days.

It was possible the woman was using him as a trap to get Geralt, but if that was the case, then she had no idea who she was dealing with. If she was telling the truth though, and he really thought she was, then it meant he didn’t have to travel to Cintra by himself, and he liked that idea.

“I’m not ready to go back to the inn yet, but I will travel with you back to Geralt.”

He sang a few ballads in the tavern at the inn, including a new one in his rotation about the White Wolf. Songs of heartbreak and the lonely Witcher were popular with the masses, even if it was mostly an exaggeration.

He loved Geralt, and maybe Geralt loved him back, but while his heart did feel broken, it has nothing to do with Geralt and everything to do with three little girls.

He still channeled it into the song.

"Did Geralt break your heart?" Renfri asked when he joined her after his performance. "I would be happy to knock some sense into his skull for you."

Jaskier shook his head. "We both had things that we needed to take care of, and we'll see each other again when we're done. But some audiences prefer songs like that one and I like the coin they'll part with when they're satisfied."

"I couldn't help but overhear you in the meadow, were you writing a new ballad?"

"I'm hoping it'll bring me closure. Anyway, I think I'm going to head to bed."

Travelling with Renfri was nice. She let him ride double on her horse, and they made really good time.

They chatted about their adventures, telling various stories or just making idle chit chat. She was infinitely more talkative than Geralt.

But it didn’t help with the emptiness he was feeling in his chest. It was growing. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now, Renfri’s random diversions of dialogue was the only thing distracting him away from it.

“Tell me about the bards who assassinate people with poison while wandering around the bar with no one ever the wiser.”

He blinked. “What?” He supposed it wasn’t exactly a secret that some bards used the opportunity provided by their ability to wander around mostly unnoticed to perform more nefarious acts, but he’d never done it himself. He’d never… felt that urge. “There’s probably good money for those with the skill and inclination. But why commit murder when the greatest pleasures in life comes from sleeping with them?”

It occurred to him that he’d slept with a lot fewer people once he’d started sleeping with Geralt. The Witcher had a lot more stamina than your standard human. Needed less sleep, too. Meant the best of both worlds.

“The call of the White Wolf is loudest at the dawn

The call of a stone heart is broken and alone

Born of Kaer Morhen

Born of No Love

The song of the White Wolf is cold as driven snow

Bear not your eyes upon him lest steel or silver draw

Lay not your breast against him or lips to ease his roar

For the song of the White Wolf will always be sung alone

Cast not your eyes upon him, lest he kiss you with his sword

Lay not your heart against him or your lips to ease his roar

For the song of the White Wolf we'll always sing alone

For the song of the White Wolf we'll always sing alone”

Jaskier was singing in the bar of an inn somewhere north of what was left of Cintra, and he was beyond exhausted. Sleep did not come easily, and what sleep did come was plagued by nightmares of losing what little family he thought he’d gained.

He was about to beg off because even just lying restlessly on a bed sounded better than staying down here any longer, when who but Geralt walked in, Ksenia and a younger girl he didn’t recognize on his heels.

The younger girl was the spitting image of Pavetta, and he realized it could be none other than Princess Cirilla of Cintra.

“Geralt!” he exclaimed, barely noticing as Renfri made a beeline after him as he hurried over to embrace the Witcher. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, standing up on his toes so that he could kiss Geralt.

“And I you,” Geralt answered, after kissing him back. “Ciri, meet Jaskier.”

“Hi,” the little girl said.

“Geralt.”

“Renfri?” Geralt smiled at Jaskier’s traveling companion, who was standing behind Jaskier. “It’s good to see you again. This is Ciri, and Ksenia. And I guess you’ve met Jaskier?”

“Ran into him in Lettenhove. Geralt, I would be happy to see that the girls get something to eat, and a room.”

“You should do that,” Jaskier suggested, before kissing Geralt again. “I think Geralt and I have… some things to, uh, talk about.”

“We do?”

“We do,” Jaskier repeated, dragging Geralt in the direction of the room he and Renfri had already rented for the night.

They stayed a few days longer than Geralt had intended, but Renfri and Jaskier had enough coin, and Ksenia and Jaskier both needed a few days of rest before making the long journey to Kaer Morhen.

Once they left, Ciri and Ksenia, who had been riding double on Roach, took turns riding double with Renfri so that the horses could rotate who was carrying the weight of two. Sometimes Geralt would insist Jaskier ride as well, which was new, he’d never let Jaskier ride Roach before.

It took them weeks to get to Kaer Morhen, but Vesemir was waiting for them when they arrived.

The eldest witcher stared at them, and then he rolled his eyes as he opened the gate to let them in. “The others didn’t bring their packs this year,” he said. “But Lambert, Eskel, and Coen are all here.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said, and with that, he led his family into the home that would always welcome him.

Destiny would bring Yennefer back to them, and time would allow Ksenia a full recovery from her time bedridden by the dragon pox. Yennefer would have to come, someone had to teach Ciri control of her volatile magics.

Vesemir wasn’t going to say anything, but he really hoped it was before Ciri managed to dismantle the entire keep with a single shout.

The other Witchers learned to enjoy having some women in the keep who could remind them to stop eating traveling rations all winter long. It was a reminder, really, that they deserved good things too.

And Jaskier… wasn’t just a bard. He taught Ciri and Ksenia, with Renfri’s help and using Geralt’s long hair, all of the courtly braids he’d learned to make of his sisters’ hair. He also made a mean chicken noodle soup.

He also worked on his newest ballad, an ode to the memory of his sisters.

“Jaskier! You have to play a new ballad! A sad one, those are my favorites,” Ciri begged, one eaving after supper when Geralt’s pack and all the Witchers had gathered in the main living room, in front of the warm fire. She was sitting at Jaskier’s feet, watching out the window as it continued snowing.

Jaskier hummed, and plucked idly at his lute as he considered whether or not he was ready to play the ballad that would bring him closure. “100 years ago, the dragon pox took my little sisters away from me. I haven’t finished it yet, it’s not really telling the story I want to tell.”

“That’s okay,” Ciri said. “I want to hear it anyway.”

Jaskier smiled, sadly. He couldn’t deny her anything, and he didn’t want to.

“At the end of the old road

In a house built on a foundation of strife

There’s too many secrets, too many memories

Too many necessaries after too many centuries

All the things of which it was rife.

Far too much that was all but owed

And yet, a dragon fire breathes new life

Into what first appeared a dying meadow

Being that which is not a rough

But all it ever needed was that new life.”

He plucked a few more chords, but he didn’t resist when Geralt tugged the lute from his idle fingers. “You’ll be happy with it when you finish it, and it’ll bring you the closure you’re still seeking.”

“I’ll help!” Ciri exclaimed. “It’s just a matter of finding the right words, right?”

“Something like that.” He leaned against Geralt, and let himself find comfort in that.

#witcher fanfiction #geraskier #found family

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