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#jaskier has a tough family
fangirleaconmigo · 9 months
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Since TWN S1 dropped, people have argued on here nonstop about Jaskier..., is he tough, is he soft, is he sweet, is he feral, (and on and on)
Firstly, the most obvious answer is that people are many things at once. Obviously. These things are not mutually exclusive.
But also. Guys this is all extremely, wildly relative.
Think about it.
To Jaskier's terrifyingly powerful friends (Geralt can kill like ten people at once, Yen burns whole armies) he's just a little wet kitten. He's a precious little package to look after when times get scary.
But compared to other POETS? Other ACADEMICS? Other MINOR NOBLES? he is inSANE.
Imagine him teaching at Oxenfurt. The youths are like HOLY FUCK , this man has walked the entire continent. He has seen five hundred kinds of deadly monsters, and lived to tell. He's survived kidnappings, walked through war zones, he has mementos from like three different historical battles on his walls. His dearest friends (family, really) are people who are sung about in dark cottages like they are demons and world destroyers. HIS BABY NIECE IS LIKE *THE* WORLD DESTROYER TO SOME PEOPLE. He understands war strategy, every single aspect of every faction, and how to survive almost anything.
He would be so intimidating to them.
Then Geralt and Yen come to visit and squish his cheeks like look, it's our soft little baby, we need to check on him because he cannot fend for himself. I hope no one here has hurt his feelings, we have learned that he hates that so we no longer allow it.
And he's like...can I come on this mission?
And they're like idk it's so dangerous for you.
And the students are like ????????
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spielzeugkaiser · 2 years
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So about that part..... 👀✨
Let me jump to conclusions for a moment? Because if Auntie Yenna finds out about how much Jaskier may have been struggling (in secret) with being an unmated? single parent omega with no close family around, I can definitely imagine her wanting to help. Financially or otherwise. Knowing the way you usually write Jaskier, he probably wouldn't want to accept the help (maybe he'd have to, to offer his son a better life) and Auntie Yenna would need to do a lot of talking and reassuring, which - depending on her second gender/designation - could come from various interesting standpoints.
(also I very much see the boy being in awe with his super tough, cool magic auntie)
I love that ask! (Honestly, I love all of your asks..)
I stumbled about the thing about 'how I write Jaskier' accepting help because that made me go 'huh'. Do I? 🤔 I think it depends on the person for sure, but I feel like Yen and Jaskier have some kind of ride or die thing going on, and with a baby he would surely accept help from her, because it's not just about him. (Like, maybe there is a little debate, but he absolutely would do it.)
YENS SECONDARY GENDER THO. ohhhhhhh. That is not something I did put into the equation, but that changes the tone of their interactions for sure. I'm pretty sure Jaskier is done with alphas, and Yennefer is one. Her providing for him... that has some connotations. But I do think both of them don't overthink it too much. Jaskier would be wary if it was someone else, but all their squabbles aside, he trusts her. And she doesn't treat him any different from when she didn't know.
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penny-anna · 8 months
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗
oof only 5 okay!!
i was gonna do 1 per fandom but then i realised that came to 6 so screw it u get 6:
The Engraving (BBC Merlin)
Arthur had somehow got into a situation wherein he had to bugger the man who was – let’s face it – the closest thing he had to a best friend, and unless luck was very much on his side things were going to be awkward forever. Camelot has been stricken by a terrible drought! Fortunately, Merlin has found a magical ritual that can bring back the rain. Unfortunately, it requires group sex - and Merlin is a virgin.
this was one of the last merlin fics i wrote n its a very stupid and silly and fluffy gangbang. really enjoyed writing the 'everyone lives happily ever after' AU on this one. very fun :)
Golden (Doctor Who)
Good gracious, it had been so long since he’d been seduced. He’d forgotten what a delectable experience it was. After an exhausting run-in with the local monsters, the Doctor takes Jamie to a hot spring to relax.
THIS IS ANOTHER SMUT. SORRY. very honest answer here. this is my dw piece i go back to most often. love the atmosphere of it.
And I'll shiver like I used to (LOTR)
He could taste it on his tongue, the salty tang of the sea, fresher and somehow saltier than the sea he knew. He could feel the sand, soft and light underfoot, warm from the sun. 'Sam,' the voice had said, saying his name so tenderly, so carefully, as if it were something precious, something to be treasured. 'Oh, Sam. I’ll wait for you.' Samwise Mason is a junior member of the Stonemason's Guild of Haven City; he works hard, but doesn't stand out. He dreams, again and again, of a beach with white sand and a kiss goodbye. Samwise Mason is making a statue.
tough call here but im still so pleased with this one i worked so so hard and i think it's the most romantic thing i've ever written
Constellations (The Witcher)
"I know how soulmarks work. If a person has two names writ upon them by destiny, then one is to guide them to their true love and the other to their worst enemy. Everyone knows that." / "That’s an old wives’ tale." When Jaskier was fourteen, two names appeared on his skin: 'Geralt' and 'Yennefer'.
VERY tough call here as i wrote a lot of witcher fics i still love but hand on heart this is the one i most enjoyed writing. blasted it out in like a week iirc. great stuff.
the world won't wait till you're older (DCU/Shazam)
Shazam didn’t understand how taxes worked. He always seemed kind of lost when they talked politics. Wally often had the sense that he was nodding along with things he didn’t really understand. He knew what vaping was. Inexplicably he knew what TikTok was. Weird guy. The Justice League try to adjust to their newest member. They know he's hiding something from them, but in their line of work everyone has secrets. Shazam's no different. Is he? Or, the Justice League accidentally inducts a child and then deals with the fall-out.
obvious choice haha!! my most popular DCU fic!! its a banger i hope to match it one day
time to time (Back to the Future)
“Will you shut your damn mouth and listen to me?” his other self hisses. He gulps in a breath, and breathes out; then, resolved, he does his best to shake his head. “No,” he says. “Whatever you have to say, I won’t hear it – having any knowledge of my relative future could –” His other self claps a hand, hard, over his mouth. His palm is damp. Clammy. Emmett makes a protesting sound against it but before he can wriggle free, the other him speaks. “Marty dies.” A cloud passes over the sun. The Brown family are on vacation, taking a break from the stresses of 1986. It's a beautiful summer day. What could possibly go wrong?
hnghh got a lot of bttf fics i love but this one remains the stand out for me. obsessed honestly.
thank u!! i'm not going to send asks bcos im lazy but for once i will tag some people uhh ok @uighean @limerental @bg-sparrow @megamindsupremacy @wromwood
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thelostgirl21 · 8 months
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One of my favorite parts of the Radskier romance?
The emotional maturity and healthy relationship expectations of Prince King Radovid when it comes to Jaskier.
Romantic infatuation needs to be nurtured to be given a chance to grow to turn into actual romantic love.
And when someone has developed an emotionally intimate (and potentially queerplatonic) relationship with another person for over 20 years; and built themselves a family also involving that closest friend's romantic partner (Yennefer) and his Child of Suprise (Ciri), you should expect that romantic interest of yours to make that family their #1 priority.
You should find their ability to deeply commit to the ones they already love, and not suddenly lose interest in them as soon as they find someone shiny and new, as a very good sign.
Because it's extremely likely that - should the romantic infatuation you now experience evolve into genuine love - they won't grow tired of you, and/or lose interest in your relationship easily.
You'll become a part of their found family, too.
Sincerely, when I met the man I've now been with for 17 years, if he'd dropped his weekly D&D game nights with the friends he'd had since he was a kid to freaking date me, I'm pretty sure I would have broken things up with him right on the spot!
Actually, one of the first things we did, when we started dating, was meet each other's closest friends, to see if we'd be a good fit in each other's lives.
You often learn so much more about a romantic interest by watching how caring and devoted they are to those they've already emotionally bonded with, than by interacting with them all on your own.
Yes, you also need to take the time to build some intimacy; but your life together as a couple, if you ever reach that stage, is going to be filled with people sharing both your hearts and your time!
There's a difference between that romantic crush of yours making the effort to integrate you into their own lives, and making time for you so you can get to truly know each other and build a connection; and them suddenly neglecting their platonic and/or alterous relationships and no longer making them a priority in their lives because "Hey, look! I've got a romantic interest now!"
If they are neglecting the people they love because you suddenly showed up, I'd consider it deeply, deeply worrying.
17 years later, my partner still plays D&D once a week (and the boys are awesome friends to us both), I have my own personal tribe (my dance troupe) that I'm deeply close to, and one of the girls came to live with us for 2 weeks Sunday night, because she broke up with her boyfriend recently, needs a place to stay, I freaking love her to death, and we're family.
When I asked my partner if he was fine with her staying over and sharing our home, there was no hesitation on his part in saying "Yes".
We care for and support our family, regardless of who our friends are the closest to.
Because, obviously, there is no need for a romantic partner to grow as emotionally close and intimate to some of your best friends as you are. Ex: They don't need to know all of their secrets, listen to them for hours, and hold them in their arms to provide emotional support when they are going through a hard time the same way you would.
But there needs to be respect and support of those relationships. They need to allow you space and time for you to listen to them for hours, and hold them in your arms to provide emotional support when they are going through a tough time.
And vice versa.
When you are helping someone you love through a tough time, the last thing you need is to be worried about your romantic partner being jealous and resentful over the time you are giving others.
And sometimes, you find yourself connecting more strongly with some of their own friends on certain matters, and suddenly becoming their confidante, too. For example, my romantic partner is a monoamorous heteroromantic heterosexual, and I'm an ambiamorous panromantic demisexual pansexual.
When one of his best friends started questioning if he might be polyamorous, and needed someone to talk with to help him figure out his feelings and how best to approach the subject with his romantic partner, my partner immediately went "It's not that I don't want to support you or listen to you, it's just that I've a feeling you should be talking to my girlfriend about this. She'll be more likely to have some intimate understanding of what you're going through, and she's been professionally trained in counseling."
He's got great respect and acceptance of queer identities (wouldn't be in a romantic relationship with me if he didn't), but he gets utterly lost in them and all the definitions and concepts.
I, however, love discussing and exploring them. So, that best friend and I got to learn a lot about each other during our talks, discovered a lot of shared interests, and grew very close.
Actually, we realized that we were extremely alike in many ways, and that Frédérick (my partner) just might have a "type" of person he's more likely to build an emotional connection with, platonically or otherwise.
I'm also aunt and godmother to wonderful children I've got absolutely no blood relations to.
Found families matter at the very least as much, if not sometimes even more, than romantic partners.
And I believe that the way Jaskier is speaking about the people he loves, the lengths and the risks he is willing to go to in order to protect them, is deeply appealing to Radovid.
In Radovid's world, relationships are commodities to be used to gain influence or power.
You "love" what serves you and makes you more politically relevant and influential, and you can potentially drop them as soon as you find something (i.e. someone) that can bring you more influence or be more useful.
He's been forced to live in a toxic, dangerous, and downright deadly environment, filled with relationships based on lies and deceit, where he had no purpose, and was deeply unhappy.
And I think that he wants to have a chance to build a family of his own based on genuine emotional connections, and/or would be delighted to be given a chance to become part of Jaskier's own found family.
He asked "does the Witcher know how lucky he is to have you?" with a sense of wonder for what it must be like to have someone love you the way Jaskier loves, and to be free to love that person back.
Besides his affection for his brother, perhaps, there was nothing holding Radovid back from leaving the castle and the only life he'd ever known behind.
And truth is, I can't even say how healthy his relationship with his brother truly was.
Most of the time, Radovid was pretty much cheering Vizimir from the sidelines and feeding into his narcissism... But, at least, his brother being King gave him an illusion of safety, I think, until the "Hedwig incident" drove home that no one - not even the freaking Queen herself - was safe with Dijkstra and Philippa around.
In terms of his own emotional, psychological, and even physical well-being, Radovid had everything to gain by getting out of there and following Jaskier.
He could thus afford to "leave everything behind" to follow someone he'd met like 5 times in total in his life. In this context, Radovid truly was choosing himself as much as he was choosing Jaskier.
But Jaskier? He's got a family having made a permanent home in his heart, people that he loves, people that rely on him, and emotional connections that he'd give everything to protect.
And so, Radovid chose to help Jaskier keep his own heart safe, by offering to go help him find and protect his family. He wants to be there with and for him.
Radovid very much seems to understand that Jaskier's family means everything to him. He gets it. That's likely one of the reasons why he finds him so special and attractive in the first place.
Jaskier having a family to go to, and having built bonds of love and loyalty, is what makes it worth it for Radovid to leave everything behind for a potential partner that is healthy enough not to.
Jaskier's a freaking keeper, and that prince is smart enough to know one when he finds one!
And, by showing his full respect and support of Jaskier's other close relationships, Radovid is demonstrating that he'd likely be a good romantic partner to him as well.
Someone that would love all of him, including the parts of Jaskier that Radovid would have to share with others.
Perhaps that's why if it weren't for the writers themselves being a potential threat to their relationship, I could definitely see it work.
Of all the people in his life, Jaskier approached that relationship essentially telling Radovid: "This is who I am an what matters to me... The idea of fully settling down at court gives me urticaria; but I'd be willing to do it, at least for a time, if that kept my little niece and her adoptive parents - the people I love more than anything in the word - safe from threats. I'm not always in the mood for songs, or especially "entertaining" to have around. I've been broken hearted and hurt before, and have developed certain trust issues when it comes to relationships... I'm deeply loyal and devoted to those that have gained my trust and have grown very emotionally intimate with... I might lash out to protect my heart, but reassess in light of new evidence that the other person was hurting, too, and trying to keep their own head above water (or downright on their shoulders). I can forgive mistakes and still love regardless... Oh, and from that whole scene you witnessed with Vespula when we first met, I'm assuming that you've already deduced I sort of have a strong, adventurous approach to my sexuality, and am not exactly the monoamorous kind. Should we ever form a romantic couple, I can't guarantee I won't also have other sexual encounters with some of my dearest friends, but also potentially strangers."
And Radovid's like "Yup! That's the man for me, and I'd love to follow you out there in the world if you'll have me!"
So, it's hard for me not to feel at least a bit optimistic.
And, while Radovid obviously can no longer do that (follow him into the world, that is... At least, for now...), I think he might have a realistic enough approach to life and relationships that, should Jaskier try to offer him creative solutions to make it work as best they can in a world filled with uncertainties, he might be able to listen to his ideas, offer solutions of his own, and adapt.
They're two brilliantly empathetic queer boys in love... They've got it!
If they aim for anything conventional or traditional, they're screwed (and not in the fun way)!
If they make their own rules, and design the relationship to fit the way they love rather than how others would want them to love (i.e. pay no heed to what others say to sing, by going with their own needs instead) there's a world of possibilities for them to explore together.
They could have enough together, and be enough for each other.
And, from the way Radovid's been listening to everything Jaskier's been saying (and singing) since they met, and showing a concern for his own safety, well-being and happiness, given the opportunity, he just might be the one to surprise Jaskier and show some very creative thinking of his own.
Because when Radovid decided that what suited him in life was to help Jaskier protect his family, he immediately went into problem solving mode, was very effective, and showed resourcefulness (forget about baths! I need you to take my cloak and everything I have with fur to turn them into money that might help us on our journey).
He's like Jaskier's own Jaskier, in a sense.
"Look, I'm growing very attached to that guy, and if keeping his family safe is such a huge part of who he is, then I'm going with him to look after him!"
Can you imagine if Radovid had successfully gotten out of that castle, though?
You have Geralt ready to declare war on anyone that stands between him and his daughter.
Jaskier coming along to help rescue Ciri and look after Geralt.
And Radovid coming along to help rescue Ciri and look after Jaskier.
Geralt: This is Jaskier, my emotional support bard... and Radovid, my emotional support bard's emotional support Prince.
This is like Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's intern, having her own intern.
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Next thing you know...
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Seriously though, each part of the season had such different vibes...
Season 3, part 1: Finally! Jaskier's been adopted into a forever home, and he's got people looking after him and openly appreciating him now! Was about time!
Season 3, part 2: JFC! Not again! *Heavy sigh* Can someone please, please adopt that ridiculous puppy of a Prince?! He needs a forever home and people to look after him, too!
So really, when it comes to how Radovid appears to be handling relationships, that freaking sense of entitlement and self-importance that would have him become a villain absolutely isn't there.
Book Radovid was a 13-year-old boy that was deeply upset that no one noticed him and his mother, and showed them the respect he believed they were owed!
He couldn't wait to show the world what he could do!
He was portrayed as an immature entitled brat to begin with!
This version of Radovid is the exact opposite.
He's like "Look, I'm just useless to the crown and terrible at politics, spying and being a prince... I just want to follow my heart and get out of here!"
He doesn't want the world to see or notice him, he's constantly hiding himself in window alcoves, corners, and trying to make himself as small as he can, for frak's sake!
He even introduced himself to Jaskier going "Ah, Radovid... Comma Prince", putting his Royal identity last.
At first, I thought it was done for humorous purposes, but it's quite telling, actually.
Being "Prince" is like some ball and chain he's been dragging behind him, weighting him down, rather than a source of pride and personal worth.
Having him magically turning into a villain would make absolutely no sense...
I'm not saying they won't do it. But the character's psychological foundations are miles away from the infamous "dark triad".
Will he allow Philippa and Dijkstra to do terrible things in his name? Perhaps. Stockholm syndrome might kick in, and he might find himself emotionally bonding with them to survive and make sense of a world that would otherwise drive him mad.
As someone that's been trauma bonded to a malignant narcissistic mother for almost 3 decades, I know how powerful Stockholm syndrome can be as a psychological protective mechanism.
But I can't fathom Radovid being inherently cruel or tyrannical.
Convincing himself that Dijkstra and Philippa really "like him" and are looking out for him and the Kingdom's best interests because of being unable to face how hopelessly fucked he is? Sure!
Now that he's been violently thrown into the spotlight and deprived of his usual safety mechanisms, Dijkstra and Philippa might capitalize on this by brainwashing him into perceiving them as "misunderstood", and the only people that have ever truly cared about him and/or respected him.
Survival instincts can be a bitch to fight at times and totally cloud your mind. The absence of cruelty becomes read as "kindness", and your ability to comply with their expectations becomes perceived as a way to "control" what happens to you. And thus, you wind up feeling like you have power over the actions of your abusers (the real threat) through your ability to constantly pacify them.
So yeah, if you want to use Stockholm syndrome to make him go against his very nature, and fall prey to the mind controlling skills of two very dangerous people, with very high sociopathic tendencies?
Yeah, that could realistically happen. And Jaskier would become the most dangerous adversary they would ever be facing in the whole freaking Continent.
Every platonic, alterous, or romantic friend or love interest of mine, that my mother didn't approve of and couldn't fully seduce and control, too, she would make sure to drive away.
My mother only ever tolerated the friends and lovers that fed her own ego and reinforced the level of influence she had on my environment and myself.
And it usually worked. I would be adopting her P.O.V. on my relationships, and breaking up with significant others to avoid risking to lose her approval.
Until I met someone that made me feel so unconditionally loved, respected, and emotionally safe - someone that was capable of loving me the way I was, resolve conflicts without seeking to dominate or control me, and always strove for "win-win" scenarios and balance between my needs and his - that her attempts to play the victim and "expose him as the true threat" to my happiness and well-being utterly failed.
Stockholm syndrome / trauma bonding can be broken by someone showing you that you'll have people that love you, support you, will believe you, and will be there to fight by your side should you be brave enough to oppose your aggressor(s) and attempt to break free from their control.
Your mind will start noticing their violence, and let you realise you've never been safe with them when you stop subconsciously believing that you have no way of ever truly escaping their influence, and the situation is hopeless.
So yeah, if Radovid believes everyone in the castle is under Dijkstra and Philippa's control, and there's no one he can trust to follow any order that would go against their will, he might comply, do what they want, and instinctively create a narrative in his mind that would give them the role of allies and protectors.
But Jaskier's one of the most influencial voices of the Continent. "Blood Origin" (that I absolutely loved, by the way... Don't know what so many people seemed to have against it...), was all about showing the power of stories, and the way they could be used to bring Empires down.
Jaskier could likely break their hold on Radovid, and put the power back in his hands, if it ever came down to it.
So, having Radovid become "dangerous" to others, by adopting Dijkstra and Philippa's P. O. V. without being psychologically able to fight their influence on his own until someone makes him snap out of it, and offers him better alternatives?
It's believable.
But him inherently being a genocidal maniac at his core? That would make zero sense. He's way too empathetic and caring about the emotional well-being of others for that.
Jaskier: "I need to find my family."
Radovid: "Here, let me give up my claim to the throne, sell my valuables, and come help you rescue those you love because you need my help, and I want to be there with you."
Yes... That's... That's what sociopaths do... And they weep over their dead guards' bodies while hiding in corners, especially when they're alone and have no one to put a show for.
That's how people start burning witches at the stake. Makes sense...
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Of Monsters And Men
(Season 2)
Chapter 11 - Family
Summary: The Deathless Mother has sunk her darkness into the vessel of Ciri, and Yennefer has betrayed your trust for possibly the last time. With Geralt at your side and the rest of Kaer Morhen, will you all do whatever it takes to save the lost princess.
Warning: angst, blood & gore, fighting, we getting intense up in here
Word count: 9788
Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men masterlist here
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You hadn't spoken a word to any of them in some time, not Geralt, and especially not to Yennefer who you're currently still boiling over about what to do with her. The Deathless Mother had left her hut in the forest most likely a few minutes before you three teleported there prepared to slay her once and for all. Yet, of course, she was no where to be found.
The demon had taken her fill of misery and dread from the ones she's bargained with recently, whomever those sorry fuckers are, and now you'll most certainly be paying the heavy price. In whatever unfortunate and terrible way that will be, hopefully you're not the target, nor is anyone you're close to. Especially Ciri.
But the young girl was Voleth Meir's last prize she had manipulated Yennefer for, apparently she didn't truly need Ciri for her freedom from the hut. But you know better then to assume that a damn ancient demon would learn of an enchanted young girl and choose to leave her alone. The world isn't that kind, nor is it ever that easy. Never.
And now you're days away from Kaer Morhen with no idea where the hell Ciri and Jaskier could possibly be. You'd fly but then you'd be wasting even more time searching blindly for them, you don't even know how close or far they could be from Kaer Morhen anyhow. Cintra is a long ways away from the Witcher stronghold, and magically teleporting to a fucking enchanted hut in the middle of the woods can muddle time to strange degrees.
They could have been halfway to Kaer Morhen by the time you three reached the hut. They could even be there right now, though you have not a clue if any of them are all right, or if Voleth Meir has chosen to leave Ciri alone and fuck off across the ocean or something. One can be so hopeful. However your brewing temper for Yennefer seems to be clouding your mind more then anything else at this point.
You can't even look at her.
When the three of you finally reach the tree line where forest meets field are you surprised to be relatively close to Kaer Morhen. Maybe a few days ride.....that is if you happened to have any horses with you. Or two travelers who could sprout a pair of wings and take flight at will, which is neither an option. Tough luck.
Still in the lead do you press onward and across the large field of grass, in the far distance is a farmhouse and what looks to be fences holding cows and sheep. To the left is a road of flattened dirt that appears to be a heavily traveled trail leading into a large section of scattered woods. This almost looks familiar like you've taken this way before a long time ago, and perhaps you have. It'll have to do.
In no time have you reached the path, continuing a couple paces ahead of Geralt and Yennefer as they make an effort to keep up with you and your hasty, untiring strides. You're so anxious to reach Ciri and make sure she's okay that all thought regarding the humanly stamina of your two travelers goes out   the window. Surly they're getting a bit fatigued by now walking this quickly for so long, however you don't feel even a little out of breath, or in the head space to slow down.
"Y/N." Calls Yennefer, breaking you from your troubled thoughts.
"What?" You irritability snap, immediately stopping and turning around to send her a glare.
She stops as well, only slightly taken aback at your abruptness, Yennefer then takes a breath, "Y/N. I'm so so sorry for all of this.."
"Save it for someone who gives a shit."
Her expression dampens, "Y/N please, I must let you know I didn't know who she was."
"Did our conversation at Melitele mean nothing then? Did all I say go right over your head?" You shake your head at her, "I thought my dear friend was one of the most intelligent people I've ever known, someone I believed I could trust. Apparently I was greatly deceived."
You begin to turn around when she says, "I wasn't going to let Voleth Meir have her. I wasn't, I promise you that much Y/N....I couldn't do it. Not when the time came."
You sigh, giving your attention to her again though you look rather annoyed, "Before or after you remembered you had a heart?"
Yennefer diverts her gaze from you as Geralt steps between you two, "I think we should keep moving, we're days away and need horses. Arguing isn't going to help anyone." He gently reasons, "Especially Ciri. Now let's go."
You snort like you find what he just said humorous, "Ciri, right right. A child, only a child, a girl who could have been tormented by a fucking demon!" You shout into the morning air, your breath visible in the cold now.
"Y/N." Mutters Yennefer, filled with great shame for what she has done, voice saying it all.
"I don't need your apologies Yennefer. You've done something I could kill you for, but I will not, and do you know why that is?" You inquire, taking a slow step closer as Geralt steps to the side, "Can you figure that out?"
She swallows, eyes darting from the trees to you, "I've lost my magic." She whispers.
"Yes, that is true. But you haven't lost your head, most of it anyway." You muse, tone clearly still irritated, "And that means, if Ciri is still alive, you will teach her everything you know and more."
"Y/N I.."
"And if she is dead by your treachery," You pause a moment to let her mind wander, "I will paint the halls of Kaer Morhen in your blood." Her gaze lowers as you take another step closer, "You have been my friend for a long long time, my first true friend apart from my family, I believed in you. I cared for you, I mourned for you. And this is what you do to me?"
"I'm so sorry." Whispers Yennefer so softly only you can hear it.
A stoic expression is all that you can show her now, "Having that child come into my life has made me understand why mothers go mad when their children die or are taken from them. You don't want to imagine what I would have done to you if she was my own true blood, so I'll save you the image. But what I can tell you is that I have killed for her, and I'll do it again undoubtedly so. You better pray she's alive."
And with that said do you turn around and keep walking forward, down the long path as Geralt follows after you. Yennefer swallows her pride and guilt and heartache before taking in a shaky breath before pressing forward, she has not a clue if Ciri is alive either. But she knows, with everything in her heart that is left, that if Ciri is dead from her own fault by Voleth Meir. You will kill her without hesitation.
Yennefer quickly wipes away a pitiful lonely tear as she jogs a couple feet closer to keep up with you and Geralt. For this is going to be a very long road ahead. ——
You lean against the side of a stable in some small village a day or so ride from Kaer Morhen, Geralt and Yennefer are inside negotiating prices with some man for a couple horses. You couldn't be bothered to join them, nor talk to anyone at the moment with your nerves so high and heart so full of anger. You just want to know if Ciri is all right, you have to know, it's absolutely killing you inside.
Your eyes close as you let out a small sigh, your breath mists white in the cold weather of this approaching winter for this particular part of the Continent. Though you feel no chill in the air nor the bite of frost that seeps into all around you without any source of warmth. You can smell the smoke of a lantern burning hot from inside the stable, that and the scent of horses. Gods they smell.
You hear someone's steps stumble in the muddy ground to your right, this person grunts as they trip on nothing. Chuckling to themselves right after as they continue onward, closer and closer until the drunken man reaches a hand out to touch your face when...
"Ahh!" He yelps as you hold a tight grip to his arm, scarlet irises burning like red flame straight through him.
"You dare touch me like I'm some common street whore?" You seethe as his heartbeat quickens in his chest, he's such a thin and scraggly man looking no older then thirty.
His lean muscles move underneath your tight grasp upon his lower forearm, "M'lady is'is so so s'sorry, so v'ry v'ry sorry." He mumbles drunkingly, eyes blinking the more he stares into yours. He could drown in the glowing redness, so terrifying, so beautiful.
"I've heard enough meaningless sorry's to last me another century." You mutter before hissing at him like a pissed off cat, he frightens when your fangs show, whole face shifting into a grayish complexion which further causes him to whimper and pull away.
Your natural skin color returns when you give him a sly devilish grin before grabbing his shoulder and throwing him across the muddy yard. He screams in fright, voice gone when he tumbles into an old wooden pig pen that breaks his fall. Collapsing as he lands on it, probably breaking a few bones as well. Foolish drunk probably deserved it too, you think, glaring at him getting sniffed at by a couple pigs.
A second later does Geralt take a hasty step out of the stable, golden eyes quickly onto you, "You alright?" He worries, "I heard a noise." You nod towards the grumbling drunk in the pig pen, Geralt turns his attention to that lovely scene, "oh."
"You get us some damn horses yet or do I have to handle it?"
Geralt turns to you again, "Yennefer's dealing with it."
"Yes, that makes me feel so much better."
His expression softens as he walks closer to you, "Y/N." He says gently, hands reaching up to cup your shoulders, "Cirilla will be fine. She'll be alive."
You pull away from him, "You don't know that. We have no idea if she's okay or not, we don't know anything, for all we know Voleth Meir could have hurt her and if she's fucking touched her I'll..."
"My love." His brows furrow, expression solemn and uncertain, "I know you're hurting Y/N, believe me, so am I. But we cannot loose our hope, or ourselves..."
"I know, I know." You glance at the drunken man still laying in the pig pen, "It's just, I've never cared for someone like this before and it's hard.."
"Not to go insane?" He muses, trying to lighten the heaviness in your heart, his hand moves to tilt your head up with his thumb and forefinger, "If things do not work how we hope they do, we still have each other, always."
"Always." You whisper, "Just us till the end huh."
"Us till the end."
"Sir! Your horse!" Calls a mans voice from behind Geralt, a man you'd like to take that doorknob and use it to knock his skull in.
Geralt takes your hand and kisses it quick, turning to address the man and leaving you feeling slightly less terrible inside, just a bit annoyed. Yet your sour mood can't help but return fully when your eyes land upon Yennefer walking out of the stables with a horse on the lead. This is her fault, all of it. You divert your gaze from her to the forest on your right. Watching as the bare branches move in the wind. You don't want to be here, not at all.
"Y/N."
You return your attention to Geralt, "What is it?"
"Ride with me?" He asks with a raised brow, hoping this offer may raise your already irked mood that hasn't left you since you all parted from Ciri and Jaskier days ago.
Pursing your lips together do you dart your eyes from Geralt to the large mare and back to Geralt again, "Fine." You mutter as he smiles at this, no matter how begrudged you sound. ——
The ride so far has been pleasant enough, more so if not for the current dire circumstances, and within all of this have you needed to let them all rest and sleep from time to time. An almost as torturous agonizing wait as it is not knowing if Ciri is still alive or not. But that is done with, now you hold onto the back of Geralt as he rides onward. Urging his mare to run across the mountainside path leading straight to Kaer Morhen.
Wind whips your hair about as you hold tightly to his armored waist, the sounds of Yennefer's horse thundering loudly from behind as she tries to keep up. Horse a bit slower then the one you ride, though all morning has she seemed to be holding back her tongue for some reason. She wants to speak with you again, you can feel it, from the last heated conversation you two haven't spoken a word to one another. And even then when she did say a couple things to you, she wasn't able to say all she needed.
"Y/N! Geralt!" Shouts Yennefer as you ignore her calls, Geralt doing the same. He cannot let himself trust her word again, he feels the same for her as you do.
"Y/N!"
"Geralt!"
You two both ignore her as the great Witcher stronghold comes into view, so close now.
"Y/N!"
Your horse trots through the opened gates of Kaer Morhen and through the snow covered yard, Geralt leading it to the stalls on the right. The horse slows as you three get closer until at last has he stopped it's walking altogether, you take this opportunity to slip from the saddle and onto the ground. Geralt following your example just as Yennefer makes her way into the courtyard.
She brings her horse to the stables and swiftly gets down, bringing the lead to a pole just as Geralt ties his mare to another. She shares a quick glance with you, "Listen to me." She pleads.
"You betrayed us." Mutters Geralt as he leaves his horse, walking to its side to retrieve his swords.
"Geralt, Y/N, please. It's not what you think! Let me explain." She says hastily as Geralt takes a sword before walking towards the door located across the yard, you, already halfway there though you've stopped to wait for him.
Yennefer jogs to keep up with Geralt, "Before Voleth Meir showed me her true self, she came to me as a little girl." Explains Yennefer, now walking between you and Geralt, "Some fucked-up version of myself. Yes, she feeds on pain! But everyone on this Continent is in pain. Voleth Meir is more personal then that. She's more specific."
You stop, causing Yennefer and Geralt to stop, your focus now only on Yennefer, "Explain."
"She finds yours weakness, the gaping wound in your heart, the thing that makes you feel hopeless, and she plunges her finger into it. And makes it heart so badly, you'd do anything." She explains breathlessly, desperate to make you understand why she did what she did.
You give her a hard look, "Like sacrifice an innocent child." Turning to keep walking towards the door.
"Yes. Except I couldn't do it!" She counters, running to keep up with you, "Y/N!" She races to your front where you have no choice but to stop and listen, "I know this means nothing to you, either of you, but understand now how special she is! When Chaos left me, I never thought that I'd feel that spark, that....life again. But Ciri, she radiates it. At Melitele's, when I helped her control it, when she opened that portal under my direction, I felt like...like.."
"I know how it feels, Yennefer."
"I don't know what Voleth Meir wants from Ciri, but we have to protect her."
Your relatively stoic expression turns into a more threatening one, "I have to protect her." You seethe, walking past her without another word, Geralt following right at your side. ——
Walking down the halls of Kaer Morhen does your stomach churn from the scent of blood floating on the stale air. This doesn't excite your senses in the slightest, it feels strange and wrong, like something sour has spoiled and it's smell is lingering everywhere it can find to go. Yet you cannot be so certain why there would be so much blood, or any blood at all, you can't see it but you know without a doubt it's been spilt.
Geralt glances at you, "What is it?"
You blink, shoving your worry elsewhere, "Something feels off, strange....very strange. I don't know why."
"Let's find Vesemir, we'll get things sorted." Assures Geralt as he leads the way to the old wolf's room. Past more closed doors and torches on the stone walls pass until finally you two reach his door that's open just a crack. Geralt walks in first. "Vesemir." He calls to wake the sleeping man, brows furrowing when he takes notice of Ciri standing in the room as well.
A relived puzzlement fills your heart when your eyes land upon Ciri dressed in a beautiful white dress, "Ciri. What's going on?" You ask as she returns her gaze to you, appearing rather surprised to you see you both here all of a sudden.
Vesemir wakes, taking in a deep breath as he turns in bed to see what the commotions about, "Geralt." He mutters, confused.
"There's a woman out there." Says Ciri, "An old woman. In a black robe."
"It's Voleth Meir." Assures Yennefer who's standing at the door.
"Here?" Questions Vesemir as he moves to sit at the side of his bed, "In Kaer Morhen?"
You smell blood in the room now, the scent of man coming from Ciri like soured fruit seated in the sun for too long. You study her face growing with worry, expression nervous as she vacantly looks at nothing in particular.
"Where is she now?" Asks Yennefer.
Ciri's face shifts to uncertainty as she looks to Yennefer, "I saw her leaving Everard's room. We have to do something." She whispers lowly, voice so soft now, almost trembling, "She killed them. Everard and Gwain."
Geralt's brow furrows at this troubling news, "How did you escape?"
Ciri swallows thickly and whispers, "I screamed."
He takes a step closer to her, "And that didn't cause any damage?"
She looks frightened, "I don't know." You still have a weird feeling that can't be shook.
"It didn't wake Vesemir?"
"Geralt." Says Yennefer as she walks a little into the room, feeling on edge just as you are.
"I'm scared. Please." Whispers Ciri in a hushed tone, eyes darting from Geralt to you who's standing a little off to the side of him. You catch a flicker in her eyes that are not her own, you can smell the darkness brewing inside her, you can sense what has taken possession of your dear Cirilla.
Ciri blinks as you walk over to her, appearing to show a stiff relief when your expression turns soft like a worrisome mother. Your hand moves up to touch her face though you only push some of her hair back, Ciri glances from your hand holding her hair to your scarlet irises studying her face intently. But the one inside knows your intention.
"Tell me what you want." You ask.
Immediately does her face shift into a pissed off grimace, eyes glowing green just as she swings her fist up. Nailing you unexpectedly right in the nose that sends an intense pain throughout your entire face which causes you to let out miserable groan. Eyes watering on instinct as you stagger backwards from the abrupt smack, you hold your nose as blood slips from between your fingers for a few short seconds before it stops. The pain subsided, now gone.
When you wipe the tears from your eyes with the back of your hands do you have a clearer view of the room. Which now holds Vesemir, Geralt, and Yennefer; you glance between their stunned faces. "Well what the fuck?" You seethe, a trail of blood clearly visible coming out of your nostrils, across yours lips, and to your chin. A nice little mess.
All of it now......a nice little mess. ——
Pressing your palms against the wall, head bowed as it leans into the smooth stone do you close your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "It's all just a bad dream, Geralt. Just a real fucked up dream my mind likes to create sometimes called a nightmare in simpler terms. That's all it is. Nothing more, nothing horrible. Nothing truly real.....just a dream."
Geralt watches as you tap your forehead against the wall, clearly frustrated, "Y/N we'll..."
"Don't tell me we'll get through this or I'll fucking lose it."
He holds his tongue as footsteps sound from the doorway to his right, the hallway where his brothers rooms are, Vesemir comes into view. He's about to walk past when Geralt speaks, "Your fight's not with Ciri."
Vesemir stops, he turns his attention to Geralt, walking through the doorway and a couple more short steps to stand right in front of him, "When you took Eskel down, it broke me. But you were right. It had to be done. Same as now." His voice grows lower as he steals a glance at you, "Ciri has to be eliminated. Daughter or demon, she has done too much damage."
"Witchers don't kill out of fear." Counters Geralt, "They kill to save lives."
"I said that."
Geralt nods, "You did."
"It feels like bullshit now." Mutters Vesemir in distain as he turns to leave.
"Eskel, Remus, Gascaden, Sorel, Gwain. There are too many medallions hanging on that tree. But spilling Ciri's blood won't bring them back." He rests a hand upon the old wolf's shoulder, "You thought she was strong enough to be the next Witcher. Just like I was. She can survive this. She needs you. I need you."
Vesemir pauses a moment, "Wolf.."
"I'll convince Voleth Meir to leave Ciri's body. Once the demons out, once she's back in her corporeal form, we'll trap her."
"Will it work?"
"I don't know. But our best chance is together, Vesemir."
"Hm." Hums Vesemir, mostly unconvinced.
"Please trust me." Pleads Geralt as Vesemir purses his lips together before walking around him and down the hallway, passing you who gives him a rather unenthusiastic expression. You watch as he leaves.
"Y/N."
You shift your gaze over to Geralt, "Is this still part of my dream? Would you mind waking me up?"
"Will you help us?"
You push yourself off the wall, "Of course I'll help, I'll do anything to save her life. Anything." You stand in front of him, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, "Now I don't know the outcome, and dealing with possession isn't really my for-tai, but whatever you ask of me. I'll do it."
Geralt gives you the ghost of a smile, "I know you will. You fight to the death."
"Fuck yes I do."
He reaches up to put his hand over yours, "We'll..."
"Don't even say it." You muse with a shake of your head, "I might have to throw you into the wall." He says nothing but smiles softly, taking your hand away from his cheek to give the palm a kiss, right over the faint scar from when you picked up his silver sword to kill Vereena with.
"I'll follow Vesemir. Find Ciri before one of my brothers do. I don't know what she's capable of but I know you're most likely to survive her tricks." Says Geralt as he parts from you, you turn to leave in the opposite direction when he grabs your wrist, "Please be safe."
"I will." Geralt returns with a longing look, almost as though he may cry though you know he just worries intensely, you gift him a quick wink to calm his heightened nerves, "Try not to trip you old wolf. See you soon." You turn, both of you finally parting from one another to find out if this plan will even work a little bit....or at all.
You're swift up the small steps and through the doorway where Vesemir had come through minutes ago, when you turn the corner to the right do you halt in your tracks. Body rigid as your eyes of glowing rubies land upon Yennefer, her expression appears shameful and distressed when her eyes of violet lock with yours.
You say nothing as moments pass, she opens her mouth to speak, "I will do all that I can to make this right. Y/N I promise you th.."
"Yennefer." She shuts her mouth as you continue, "You have broken all trust I had left though I can sense you mean what you say now. So if you would like to keep your life for another decade longer I would pray Ciri lives through this." You take a threatening step closer, eyes almost appearing to darken, "Because if she is to die this night, her blood is on your hands which means this blood is mine to take. And you will not see the sunrise I can promise you that."
Yennefer bites the inside of her cheek, she's never felt so small before. She's never felt so much like that frightened crooked girl in Aretuza who was once afraid of the half-blood woman with the pretty face and red eyes. She was terrified of you at one point, so very long ago before your friendship grew into trust and love. A lifetime ago that all feels now, a place she would give anything to return to and start everything all over again.
Know all she knows now, maybe save herself some pain...and you as well.
Her eyes turn to the ground as you glare at her while beginning to saunter past, there's nothing else to be said until this is all done and over with. However this future presents itself. You follow down the hallway past the bedrooms of many Witchers. Some of whom are deceased, their blood wafting into your sensitive nostrils. Calling for you to feed and kill, this you refuse.
Soon enough have you made it outside in your search for the princess who is not herself, this leading you to the highest point of the Witcher stronghold. The large balcony looking over all of Kaer Morhen, the great doors kept to your right that open into the evening hall where the medallion tree is located.
You feel the wind against your face way up here, see the few flecks of snow that fall from the grey sky slowly turning to dusk in the approaching hour. You walk cautiously towards the door, elven dagger in your tight grasp as you move silently upon stone. When the door is within arms reach do you place a hand upon it, you push, it opens lazily though it creaks lightly as you open it wider.
Your gaze lands upon the back of Ciri in her white dress, long beautiful golden hair falling down her back as she looks at the great tree. You can hear her heartbeat thudding normally, she doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge your existence though you know she must have heard you come in. Voleth Meir always knows when another being of the supernatural is near her.
"You don't want to escape." You say in more of a conscious statement then in question. She says nothing as you continue to cautiously walk forward, closer and closer to her you approach.
"So many gone." She finally says, voice calm and low, still looking up at the medallions hanging from the tree, "Devoured by this hellish Continent."
"I want Ciri back. Name your price."
"She's here!" Shouts Lambert in the foreground as the sounds of more Witchers, including Geralt, fill into the back of the room from the large doors entrance.
Ciri turns around to face you, "It's not a question of price. It's a matter of cost." The Witchers gather around you, Geralt moving to stand behind you as Ciri raises a brow, "Name your price." She asks you this time, you'd assumed she'd say as much.
You remain unflinching, done with her tricks, "Release her, and you can have me."
"Y/N." You wave Geralt off and he stays his ground. You're so desperate to save Cirilla from this prison she's stuck in you will do anything.
The mask of Ciri breaks out into a bemused grin as she chuckles, taking a step closer, "That is enticing. What glorious pain we could create together.....princess of night and day, heir to the Blood Throne, daughter of shadows. But it's too late for that."
"Geralt!" Calls Jaskier at random as he runs into the room from a door behind you all, "Yennefer told me to....shhhhit. You're busy....yeah." He mutters before awkwardly walking off to the side as you and the rest of the Witchers return your attention back to Ciri who's not really Ciri. She smirks knowingly, turning around before letting out a scream so loud and intense you have to cover your ears.
Wind fills the room from nowhere, the ground shakes as the medallions shimmer and shake when suddenly does the great tree crack in two. Ciri's scream echos loudly as you fall to your knees from the sound damaging your eardrums. The intensity of her voice causing the tree to break fully and split in two completely, a large section of the wood falling to the ground with a massive clang it just about causes the room to vibrate.
When her throat gives no more screams do you look up at the destruction before you and a smiling Voleth Meir through the face of Ciri. Right where the medallion tree once stood now remains a jagged dark monolith of pure stellacite. Your mouth parts open as Vesemir audibly says an exasperated "What the fuck?", exactly what you're thinking.
Ciri's eyes glow green once more as she gifts you a wicked smirk, she turns around as you yell, "Ciri!" Her scream rips forth from out of her mouth which causes the stellacite to break into small shards of black. Your eyes widen as she turns around, commanding the shards to fly forward towards you all. With great intention to kill.
Before you can think about a world of pain you're soon to be apart of does the forearm of Geralt reach across your torso, he pulls you to his strong chest without a second thought. He creates a protective ward that shields you two from the flying shards, then he's pulling you around with him as the shards race back in the direction they came.
When you're released again do you turn to face Ciri just as two strangely looking basilisks walk out from the large chunk of stellacite. She somehow was able to summon them, you think, astonished. Freakish, abnormally large, and undoubtedly deadly; another problem added to the list of already many shit problems. They stand to either side of Ciri as she smiles devilishly at the Witchers and yourself.
You eye up the green eyed girl, "I won't let her have you, Ciri." Voleth Meir flickers through her glowing eyes of emerald, her pale skin grows dark and veiny around her eyes. She turns her head to the side, silently commanding the basilisks to kill everyone in the room. They glance down at her before screeching and charging forward, going to battle with Lambert and Coen first.
Geralt comes to your side, you two share a mutual look, "Yrden, now!" He commands, eyes focused onto Ciri.
"Wolf." Counters Vesemir, standing at your other side.
Geralt glances at him as you speak, "Vesemir, I can do this! We have to contain her." The old Witcher says nothing but nods, knowing you're past being reasoned with at this point. He walks to the right of Ciri as Yrden takes his place on her left, Geralt to her direct front, with you standing off to his left.
They lock eyes with one another before reaching their arms out and creating a protective ward that will hopefully prevent her from escaping, or doing anything destructive, anymore then she already has. From your spot next to Geralt do you eye up the child in front of you, sending a deathly glare to the demon inside of her sneering back at you.
"Tell me what you want with her." You growl, "Tell me what she is to you."
Voleth Meir speaks softly, "She is the future. And you're time has not arrived yet, dark one, so get out of my way." She seethes right before throwing out a hand that sends a force so powerful it throws you halfway across the room. Your breath is ripped from out of your lungs when your back hits the hard stone of the messy evening hall. "Agh fuck." You gasp, sucking in a deep breath as a basilisk throws the body of a dead Witcher over your body.
A drop of his blood stains your cheek as you quickly sit up, the room has gone to pure chaos. Tables are smashed in, men are dead or battling the last remaining beasts, and Geralt is currently fighting Ciri hand to hand right where you just where. Standing up do you take a step forward just as Lambert screams for Vesemir's help.
You turn to your left where he's fighting off the basilisk with two of his brothers, one of whom is about to get his head bitten off. The jaw of the beast opens wide as it prepares to dive its head upon the defenseless man, teeth sharp and shiny. The Witcher cries out for aid, accepting his fate when out of nowhere does a golden blade lodge itself into the eye of the basilisk.
The snake headed creature recoils, releasing an extraordinary sound of pain as it thrashes its head around as blood flies out from its damaged eye. He blinks in astonishment as a blur of red races past the beasts scaley throat, a second later does a waterfall of blood pour out of a thin slit. It's roar is gargled as it scratches at its wound unable to do anything about it.
You slide across the smooth stone flooring a couple inches away from a heavily breathing Lambert, a fallen Witcher's sword held up to the side in your hand. Steel blade coated in blood that drips upon the floor as you bring it down to your side. Lambert locks eyes with you and opens his mouth to speak when you feel it, a vibration against the ground.
You whip around just as an even larger basilisk begins to walk out of the stellacite, you take a step just as the creature charges. It targets Geralt, launching him across the evening hall and straight into the broken doors, and into the outside he goes. It's racing past you all in a second, hungry for the blood of the white haired Witcher and no one else. You know Voleth Meir did this deliberately.
"Y/N!" Shouts Coen, your attention is pulled to him, he slashes at another basilisk as a second snaps at two of his brothers opposite of him. You didn't even see these other two show up.
Clenching your sword tighter does your scarlet gaze turn to Ciri still standing by the broken tree. She grins, Voleth Meir, clearly enjoying the carnage and death. You don't have a proper moment to dwell upon the cryptic shit she was talking about before she telekinetically punched you halfway across the hall. Though you do recall her speaking something about you being the dark one and it's not your time yet. Whatever the fuck that means.
A roar breaks through the shouting and sword slashing of the room as Coen calls for you again, voice sounding with much more desperation this time. You turn to him, he falls back, scrambling out of the beasts sharp fangs and under one of the remaining tables. You run to him, throwing out an opened palm as electricity sparks from your fingertips.
White hot jagged bolts of lightening crash violently into the scaley side of the basilisk, it screeches in pain as the force of your vampiric gift throws it straight into the wall. You crouch down by the side of the large wooden table before lifting up its edge for Coen to crawl out from, a table that should not be so easy to lift with one hand.
He gives you a breathless thank you once upon his own two feet again, you nod and glance towards the unconscious basilisk twitching on the floor, "All yours." He shares the flash of a grin as you turn away to focus onto Ciri once more. You freeze in your spot as Geralt pulls Vesemir away from her, a blood stain marks her side.
Though she only smirks at them, her hand hovers over the wound, healing it with little effort. She glares at them both, mocking them for their feelings and how hatred will be their demise when they feel it most of all.
"Let's finish this Geralt." Says Coen standing over the dead basilisk just as Lambert and another Witcher stab the last remaining basilisk in the head.
Geralt looks from Coen to you, "Jasper gives the courage to rectify wrongs." He pauses a moment before returning his attention to his brothers, "Hate. Our hate is the pain she needs to grow stronger. Let's not giver her what she wants."
They all glance at one another as Geralt turns his focus back to Cirilla, "Ciri. If you can hear me, if you can hear us, come home." She blinks, head turned to the side as she stares hard at the ground. Voleth Meir is trying so desperately to keep Ciri from returning her mind back to the present. You know she's witnessing something else entirely within her head. You just have not a clue as to what.
You walk over to stand next to Geralt as the remaining Witchers gather around behind you two along with Jaskier and now Yennefer, who stands silently off to your right. You wipe some blood from your nose, eyes locked with Ciri's, "Come home my lioness. Come back to us." You plead.
Her green irises flair with an intense glow, "She doesn't want to be here. She isn't yours."
"It's not working, beasty." Mutters Vesemir as you steady your breaths. You'd like nothing more then to rip Voleth Meir from right out of Ciri and sly her on the spot.
You shake your head, "Come back to us, Ciri."
"Can you hear us, girl?" Asks Lambert.
"We miss you Ciri." Adds Vesemir, "I'm sorry for what I did."
Her irises glow brighter, veins around her eyes flickering with gold as Voleth Meir speaks, "I'm  not going anywhere. I'm staying right here. Living in her......Forever."
"Her hut is burned." Says Geralt, "She needs a vessel to exist within this sphere. Ciri can't escape. Unless..."
Yennefer throws a glass bottle upon the ground right in front of herself, she kneels down, "Unless I right this wrong." She picks up a glass shard, "My wounds wouldn't heal..."
"Yens." You counter as she stands, you know what she's about to do.
"...because magic wasn't what I was missing." She walks over to stand right in front of you, expression clear and hopeful, "I can be the vessel."
"No."
"For her." Yennefer begins to pull up her sleeve as you brows furrow, you still care for her too much even now.
"Yennefer!" You gasp as she quickly cuts her wrists, blood pouring out of the thin slices and onto the stone floor as she turns around to face Ciri. You swallow hard as the intensity of that fresh blood smell wafts into your nostrils while Yennefer begins to chant something in Eldar.
Ciri's eyes widen, "No!" She rasps in protest as Yennefer continues, the demon from inside is growing restless and angry, you can feel it.
Ciri's eyes grow vacant and empty as she holds her hands out to either side of her, head turned towards the ceiling as she stares into nothingness. You depart from Geralt to find yourself in front of Ciri as sparks of ember float out of her, past you, and straight into Yennefer.
"I know you're afraid Ciri, but what you see in there. It isn't real." You plead, placing your hands upon her small shoulders as she continues to stare at nothing, "We belong together. You, us, it's not perfect...but it is real. It's yours. We are your family and we need you. My dear lioness, I...I need you."
The orange specks of ash retreat out of her completely, glowing pieces floating past your body as Ciri lets out a gasp before falling limp into your arms. You swiftly catch her, slowly lowering her unconscious body to the floor as your mind races a hundred miles a minute. Hoping she's going to be okay, praying to whoever will listen that she'll awaken soon and still be your Cirilla.
A last ember dances past your head as her eyes open once again, she blinks, brows furrowed as she studies your worried face. You move to give her some space, kneeling at her side as she sits up to glance around at everyone before returning her attention back to you.
"Ciri we don't have much time. We need to trap Voleth Meir once and for all." You steal a glance at Yennefer who's almost completely absorbed the ancient demon, you focus back on Ciri, "If you can pull monsters through the monolith, you can send one back again."
You stand to your full height, lending your aid to Ciri who uses your strength to find her footing. She appears rather distressed, "What?"
You give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "You can do this."
"Yennefer's lessons." She whispers, "I don't know if I can.."
"I believe in you. We all do." You reassure her the best you can, Ciri takes a nervous breath before giving you a small nod. Weak and uncertain yet she's willing to try if you're convinced enough to believe she's capable of doing such an incredible task.
She turns and walks a couple steps towards the monolith before stopping, "See the outcome." She whispers to herself, "Make it happen." Wind begins to pick up from seemingly out of nowhere just as Ciri starts speaking in ancient Eldar. Seconds later does a silvery white portal form where the monolith stands that begins sucking you in with a strong pull you've never felt before.
Yennefer stumbles into your side as the invisible force drags her closer, you grab her arm to stop her from getting sucked into the swirling portal. But it's no use, your footing gives and soon you're also heading straight into the silvery white just as Geralt snatches your shoulder to stop you. He's not strong enough and with that does the silvery mess of golden light drag you four into its enchanted clutches.
Your eyes shut tight as the light burns brighter, your body feels warm and weird, like you've walked through warm spray from a summer fountain yet you are not wet at all. Then your bearings are gone and with that so is the floor and a moment after you're falling. Landing upon hard earth, tumbling across the ground with the world a darkened orange blur.
Once you stop and jump to your feet are you faced with a very different environment then the one you were previously in. This land is rocky and barren, the sky is covered in clouds that are coated in a rusty orange tint like that of a fiery sunset on a winters day. The air smells ashen and strange, discord and enchantment linger on the breeze like a dragons hot breath. You don't like this one damn bit.
Suddenly a hot wind blows through your hair, the smell of evil and burnt flesh dancing on the air. You look to Yennefer who's standing at your side, embers glowing a fiery orange float out of her and into the air where they form a sort of mass before flying away altogether. Voleth Meir gone.
"She's leaving." Says Geralt, confused.
You all watch as the dark mass of embers swirls and flies across the barren land, then you hear it, the thundering of horse hooves. Men shouting and Voleth Meir's wicked laughter like that of a cackling old witch. Then, from the horizon line, six horses form from nothingness.  A rider for all but one, their horses snort and scream in joyous rage as the dark mass of Voleth Meir finds her place on the riderless horse.
She takes form into the body of a strong rider in armor made from what looks to be bones, a long spear in hand, a similar weapon to her kin among her. The Wild Hunt. They race ferociously across the ground from afar, kicking up tuffs of dark sand as they come for....you look to Ciri who locks eyes with you until a mans deep voice speaks, sounding like an ancient beast speaking for the first time, drawing both your attentions to the riders. Horses thundering across the earth.
"Child of the Elder Blood, starry-eyed Daughter of Chaos, join our Hunt." He rasps darkly in between a short pause, shadowed eyes look to you, "Princess of the Blood Throne, Daughter of Shadows, ride with us as you are meant to. Your place is among us." They rider closer and closer, "You are ours."
What the fuck? You too?
"Ciri!" Warns Geralt as the horses charge, so close now you can almost see the eyes of the beings behind their armored masks.
She quickly grabs you on the arm and you swiftly place a hand on Yennefer's shoulder when she does this, you hear screaming and shouting and menacing laughter as they approach. Spears drawn. You feel pulled, sucked in as a white nothingness consumes your entire vessel all at once. It blinds you again from the intense brightness until you feel your feet upon solid stone ground.
Your scarlet eyes open to face the broken medallion tree and you let out a sigh of relief for the quick escape. You remove your hand from Yennefer's shoulder to look at your hands that are uncharacteristically shaking. You feel so strange, you feel....you feel almost...almost....scared. You don't get scared from anything ever, unless it's for someone else, but not you. Never you.
"Ciri, you alright?" Says Geralt as he rests his hands upon Ciri's shoulders, you just keep your gaze to your shaky hands.
"Were...were those the Wraiths of Mörhogg?" She asks, voice slightly trembling as she looks up at him.
"The Wild Hunt, yes." He confirms in a hushed voice, "We're safe now, thanks to you. That's all that matters." Ciri gives him a hopeful little grin as he removes his hands from her shoulders, they share a small smile together before she leaves to help some of the wounded Witchers.
Your eyes stare at the black shimmer of the monolith, it's jagged edges and mysterious frame, the pieces of obsidian colored shards all over the ground next to it. A hand touches your arm, your head snaps up to face the soft golden eyes of Geralt that look to you so fondly. He can tell you're anxious, his fingers trail down your arm to take your hand with his.
"You heard them call to me."
He gives a small nod, "I did. To both of you."
You purse your lips together in distaste, "This is not....this is not something I had ever expected. I don't understand why they want me too, what am I to the Wild Hunt?"
Geralt brings your hand up to place a gentle kiss against your skin, "I would never let them have you, Y/N. And I know you wouldn't either, now breath, we are safe here."
You let out a huff, giving him a fangy grin, "You're right. Problem for a later time, yeah." Geralt smiles right back before turning his head to see who's all still in the room, your smile slowly disapates away. You still cannot shake the voice that came from the Wild Hunt, calling you and Ciri, wanting you to join them and their hunt.
"Look at us." Says Jaskier, glancing around the room at everyone, "Just one big happy family, eh?"
"No." Grumbles a tired Lambert, walking with a limp at Ciri's side as they move to find a seat that isn't broken to splinters.
You part from Geralt to walk past both Jaskier and Yennefer, finding yourself kneeling down by the deceased body of a Witcher who's face is missing. Your eyes glance up at Vesemir and Geralt speaking together about what just happened and why you, him, and Ciri cannot stay. You bring your attention away from them and back to the dead man with all spirit gone from him. Another life lost.
"He liked you, you know." Says Lambert from his seat to your right, sitting on the only non-destroyed bench on this side of the room. His bearded face shift into a tired grin, "One of the few who didn't despise you. Like myself of course."
"I'm sorry for your brother, then. Even if he did hate me, a passing like this is never how anyone should leave this world."
Lambert nods, "Indeed, lovely. Indeed." You return your sights to the faceless man and stand, expression rather sorrowful as you turn to face Lambert. You walk over to him, he looks up at you and is pleasantly surprised when you touch his chest, "It takes a basilisk to get you this close to me?" Jests Lambert, "I outta start fighting more monsters when you're around then."
Hand still pressed to his chest do you give him a look, "You're wounded, you old fox."
"That I am." He tilts his head at you with a rather blissful smile, "I think a kiss could make it better."
You tilt your head at him with your own lopsided smile, "You smell awful."
He chuckles, "You try fighting a damn basilisk then."
"I did."
"oh, right." Your hand moves down to his abdomen, he gives you a raised brow, "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but what'r you doing woman?"
You glance from his blood stained clothing to him, "You're cut deep. Let me heal this so your next couple weeks aren't spent in pain." You take out your golden dagger of elven make before cutting the palm of your hand and pressing the bloody slice to his wound.
"Y/N what the fuck are you.."
Pulling your hand away do you wipe your bloody palm against his pants, "Feel any better?" His brows furrow at your question until his face relaxes and a small smile appears, now you're the one to raise a brow, "Anything?"
"What you do to me?"
"I gave you some of my blood." You explain, "It's got healing properties when exposed to any wounded flesh. Haven't you ever wondered why I don't have as many scars as I should?" Lambert shakes his head as you snicker, "Oh you silly man. Just try not to get too injured when I'm not around." You add before walking off to see if anyone else needs tended to. Lambert watches you go, probably with one of the grandest smiles he's ever had grace his face. If only you weren't Geralt's love, he thinks, if only.
After cutting your palm a couple more times and speaking with Jaskier about how he may need to purchase a sword if he's going to be hanging around you guys from now on. The evening hall has cleared out for the most part as night overcomes the Continent, turning the destroyed room into a dark blueish tint. You set a cracked medallion onto a table and glance at the broken doors. Geralt stands near her while Ciri takes a seat on the edge of the broken bridge, the one overlooking the courtyard and the great mountains surrounding Kaer Morhen.
You glance back at the broken tree before turning to walk away towards the opened doors, and perhaps have a word or two with Yennefer who's lingered back. She stands there near the door, just watching, deciding it best to stay away for now. You saunter over to where she stands, your crimson irises studying the side of her face. One that looks the most at peace you've seen in a long time, though she cannot seem to smile.
Yennefer feels your silent presence and turns her gaze to lock eyes with you though all you can give her is a mutual nod, "You're whole again."
"I felt it come back when I...I..." She looks down, not sure how to word anything when last she checked you were incredibly pissed at her.
"When you sacrificed yourself for Ciri." You finish for her, knowing what she is as alluding to. It's still so hard not to feel relief that she is okay just as Ciri is, however you know now, what she has done will take a long time to forgive.
Her violet eyes return as she takes a step closer, "A sacrifice I'd make again. In a heartbeat." She admits honestly. But the trust you two once shared is gone, what she has done will forever leave a mark in your heart, it had the second you realized what she was planning to do with Ciri.
"I don't forgive you, Yennefer." You mutter, tone more gentle then bitter. You know Yennefer feels the sting of this painful truth inside, she's not the only one who hurts because of this.
Her expression is solemn, "I know I've hurt you. Yet I can't help but wish it could begin again." If only that were a possibility.
"Begin again, hmm. Maybe that wouldn't be so awful." You add, "Change some things a bit, right some wrongs." Keep Renfri alive, maybe you'd even be able to save that priestess from ever meeting Nivellen knowing now what you didn't know then.
"Right some wrongs. I like that." Yennefer gives a faint smile in the soft blue of the growing night, "Ask for your friendship again. If you'll have me."
"I'll never stop being your friend, Yens. But I cannot forgive you, I need....I need time." Yennefer nods in understanding, things have undoubtedly changed between you two in ways you'd never wished in a million years. She was once your only friend and your dearest, you need time to trust her again and she knows this. You glance from Ciri to her once again, "Start with her. Use your knowledge of magic to train Ciri. You're the only person who's helped her control her powers."
"As if I'd trust anyone else with her."
You can't help but steal your eyes away to look at Geralt and Ciri once more before returning your attention back to her, "Villentretenmerth told us we were meant to meet one another. Destined for each other in one way or another. And that nothing would come of it because destiny alone isn't sufficient. Something more is needed. She is something more. And though it is cryptic as only a talking dragon could give, it's all I have to go off of if I'm ever to trust you again." You then turn from her and with that do the two of you walk out of the evening hall and into the cold of the Blue Mountains. You have nothing else to say to her.
That old golden dragon spoke those words to you and Yennefer what feels like ages ago. You're still not so sure what it all means even now, and after everything that's happened and what she did to put you all into this mess. You're heart and head have never felt so torn. How could Yennefer be part of your destiny? How could she be any good in your life in the coming future?
Sometimes you think maybe staying in Alkatraz with your queen mother and her coven would have saved you all these problems. Maybe, but then again you'd never have met Geralt, and that's a rather dreadful thought. Maybe destiny has a path yet? Maybe? Stepping across the thin blanket of snow do you find yourself at Geralt's side, letting your weary gaze stretch upon the vacant mountainside. Yennefer sits on the edge of the broken landing next to Ciri.
"Every time I think I can move forward," Begins Ciri, "there's this force bringing me back into darkness. I'm just tired, Geralt."
Geralt looks to her at his other side, "I'm tired too, Ciri." He gives her shoulder a gentle pat as he continues, voice low and docile, "But what of it? Life goes on. Us four, we'll help each other. What is destined cannot be avoided."
"And it shouldn't be." Adds Yennefer as Ciri turns her attention to her before letting her gaze look upon the dark moonlit hills below.
"I believe I know what Voleth Meir wanted from you." Speaks Geralt as he focuses his golden eyes to her.
Ciri's brows furrow at this, "What?"
"She's been here since the Conjunction. We knew that. We've always assumed she was from another sphere."
"Is that where I portalled us? Another sphere?"
"Those monoliths that you shatter, the ones that pull new species of monster through every time you scream, those could be gateways to other spheres."
"My scream woke Voleth Meir. That's why she wanted me."
Geralt nods, "She wanted to go home. You were the key to her future. What I can't figure out, though, is when did Nilfgaard realize that you were the key to theirs? They knew before anyone else. How do they know the truth about you, Ciri?"
An interesting thought to ponder indeed, you watch as Ciri's brows furrow in puzzlement, "I don't know." She whispers softly.
"Well whatever the cause, we're here sword and heart for you my dear lioness. And I'll make sure this Continent dare not take you from us. All of us will." You add while giving her a soft smile, "I know not of what adventure awaits us, but let it be a thrilling one."
-
And that concludes season 2! Wow it’s been a long road but I finally finished it and the story may be done for now but there is so much more to come with my side quest stories and whenever S3 falls upon us. Can’t wait for you all to read what else is to come :)
Thanks for sticking around or finding me and joining this incredible journey! I hope you enjoyed it and hang out for plenty more adventures between reader and Geralt in this wild universe of The Witcher.
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Taglist: @littlewhiterose​​​​ @galaxypox​​​​ @maan24​​​ @lilacs-lavender​​ @letseatnow​​​​ @certainwonderlandperfection​​​​ @rafecameronswhore​​​​ @diegos-butt​​​​ @ashleyforeverareject​​​​ @seninjakitey​​​ @beck07990​​ @kmuir1​​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​​​​ @greengrassdiaries​​​​ @canpillowscry​​​​   @23victoria  @shawnssalsaa​​​​​   @emily-roberts
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jaskiersvalley · 2 years
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Heyaaa my beloved socks!
🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?
🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (How about Eskel)
Love you! Pandapoo!
Pandapoo, you are such a sweetheart. Thank you for these questions, I've been procrastinating writing and they are a most welcome distraciton.
🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? I have a fair few to choose from. But I'll stick to the ones posted under my name because I'm too chickenshit to own up to some of my own stories. It's a tossup between Steal Your Breath and Wolves in the Wind. Neither of those stories wanted to behave when being written and went completely off plan in the best of ways.
🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? Probably the bit in Heart Exchange where Jaskier brings someone in to teach Geralt and himself about a kink. At the time it might have been a bit of a surprise to some but, given how my writing has been derailed, it is now a bit of a no-brainer. At the time of writng it, quite a few people guessed it already so maybe I was already showing my true colours then!
🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (How about Eskel) You know how much I adore Eskel so it's tough to choose a favourite headcanon. It took me a while to settle on one but maybe it's how he doesn't allow himself a future that deviates from what's been drummed into him all his life. Maybe he denies it even to himself that he'd like a life that doesn't revolve around serving and dying for the ungrateful. Not that he'd ever ask for much. Just a life free of pain, one where he is loved and has a place in the world that isn't in the ruins of an old castle filled with horrors and the last stragglers of the only people he ever had the option of trying to call family. Assuming family's the term for those who warped his entire life into existing as a mutated outcast born to die painfully at the hands of either family (during the trials) or monsters.
Come ask me questions!
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scnguineus · 1 year
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[ henry cavill , 37 , cismale , he/him ] have you seen , PERCIVAL “PERCY” FRELL the WIZARD has entered court? said to be charismatic + adaptive , we can only hope their good qualities outshine that they are also indecisive + remiss . when asked about them , people are always reminded of: a crumpled map missing some locations, a disorganized collar & tie, hand written stories with circles of the previous night’s beverage, bags always packed & ready for travel. They are THE BARON FRELL. They believe in THEIR FAMILY. May their wand guide them to absolution. 
quick facts.
full name: percival anton frell nicknames: percy, perce age: thirty-seven birthday: december 1st orientation: bisexual siblings: baroness claudia frell ( deceased ), lady utp frell (27-35), lady utp frell (23-30); in-law — lord utp utp (38-45) marital status: unwed faceclaim: henry cavill hair: brunet eyes: hazel traits: charming, adaptive, resourceful, aloof, noncommittal, charismatic, indecisive, boisterous, easy-going, remiss inspirations: simon basset, anthony bridgerton, arthur pendragon, diego hargreeves, jaskier, steven crain, lucifer patronus: red knot ( bird ) former hogwarts house: gryffindor
quick background.
the frells have long been known for spawning adventurers and big tough men. as such, when claudia was born first before percival, there was divided attention between their parents. anton frell wanted his son to take over the title when he passed but even as a young boy percy could tell he didn't want to be like his father or those before him. percy doesn't think the frell line is a curse or anything but he does believe it should be put in its place. he spent nearly his entire life living as if he would never be baron since claudia spent her entire life preparing for it.
when claudia fell pregnant, percy was somewhat disdainful. however, when she revealed that she wanted to be like their mother and raise someone in a loving family, henry could hardly fault the woman. he was proud of his siblings and he was always respectful of claudia's wishes to stay unwed, to keep her power hers alone. it left percy free to travel as he wished, learn about selkies & werewolves & vampires, he could do whatever he pleased really. when he accident happened, percy was thousands of miles away. he barely made it back in time for funeral. suddenly the weight he'd always avoided was on his shoulders. percival agreed to stay as baron, but he promised that as soon as nephew was old enough to take the title, he would pass it on and continue with his travels.
wanted connections.
formal wc for this coming in the future but: I want someone who is old flame of percy's. he's never been one for deep relationships but he loves sex, i think this person caught feelings and percy was like oh sweety baby no, and it would've been before his sister past and he hasn't seen them since he broke things off bc they caught feels
other hookups would be ideal pls
anyone who was around his age who knew his sister would be lovely and make me cry
i want someone to be a fan of his fathers and percy can be like oh god pls shut up
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eskel-and-goat · 3 years
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Hey so what if Jaskiers entire family were hunters? Or just really rough and rowdy, fighters. They grew up fighting and hunting but Jask is the “odd ball” in his family because he’s against violence?
Like, let’s take his family for a moment, now imagine with me: a giant man with nothing but pure muscle, people have to look up at him to speak. Geralt would he shocked at meeting him, Jaskier’s father looks more like a tame bear than human, though jaskier gets his smile, laugh and humour from him.
For his mother? I’d love to say she’s just as scary as Jaskiers father, very intimidating, she looks like she can handle her own shit. She’s gotta round up all of the kids? Give her five minutes. Also I think she’d also be tall (tall intimidating women please end me thanks).
I just like the thought of Jaskiers family being  excellent hunters/fighters who continually look for competition. Maybe it throws Geralt for a loop, finding out that Jaskier came from a family of fighters and knows how to use different weapons, but prefers poetry and art, a lover.
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Throwing this idea out there to anyone who wants to use it:
So i have this headcanon that some of Jaskier's nieces live with him at Lettenhove for a least part of the year. And we know Ciri is leaving Kaer Morhen soon. So basically the idea is sometime after the group leaves the mountains Geralt has to leave Ciri for some reason, so Jaskier takes her to Lettenhove with him and passes her off as one of his nieces or a friend of a niece whos come to visit.
This might include...
Ciri actually being around girls her age. Like the whole episode with Triss shows how much Ciri really needs that
Jaskier as a beloved uncle
Everyone pulling together to help Ciri blend in: each of the girls giving Ciri one of their own dresses (they apologize that its lesser quality than she probably wore as a princess but Ciri has been living in scrapped cloth she sewed together that she found in a witcher keep for the last few months. She nearly cries at being able to wear nice clothes again) that they end up having to alter for her (she's short and Jaskier's family is tall) and a pair of pants for her to continue practicing in (also good quality), a failed attempt at hair dying (orange), having someone "train" with her so its not as notable to the staff not in on it/outsiders, etc
Ciri sharing a room and a bed and becoming overwhelmed
Ciri worrying that bad things will now happen to these people because they were kind to her
Jaskier's sister (nieces' mom) and older women servants making sure Ciri is comfortable and genuinely feels like one of the nieces
Some law official visits and Ciri sees how tough Jaskier, his sister, and his oldest niece are (ie. passive aggressive and snarky) and how devoted they are to this act
Group-ish activities (riding, hair styling, gossiping over breakfast, a intense game night)
If Yennefer is here i dont know what she's doing but she's either loving it or hating it
If Geralt meets back up with them while they're still at Lettenhove he's surprised by how happy Ciri is, how much lighter she seems to feel (he knows it temporary but the fact she's smiling means so much to him)
Ciri having trouble breaking the habit of calling Jaskier "Uncle Jaskier"/"Uncle Julian"/whatever name you want to have the girls call him
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ohhh maybe 48 and 86 with yenskier for the prompt thingy 👀
48. Fake dating
86. I didn’t mean to turn you on
A modern AU where Jaskier and Yennefer are both Geralt’s best friends (Geralt and Yennefer dated briefly when they were young, but it didn’t work out and they became good friends.) While they both adore Geralt, they utterly loathe each other.
Their dislike of each other weighs on Geralt, who is having a tough time lately between becoming an accidental father to a toddler and having issues with his partner, Eskel (pro tip: don’t casually tell a friend that you’ll be his daughter’s guardian if anything happens to him and his wife on the assumption that nothing will happen, especially not without telling your partner.) (Don't worry, they figure things out and are great dads to Ciri, but there's just an adjustment period and this is set during that period.)
After Yennefer and Jaskier have a particularly nasty fight one night, Geralt tells them to figure their shit out and to not come back until they do.
Jaskier, who has impeccable decision-making skills suggests a foolproof plan: they tell Geralt that they’ve started to date. That will ease Geralt’s mind and convince him that Jaskier and Yennefer like each other now.
Yennefer is fully aware that this is a shit plan but figures she can get Jaskier to spring for a couple of nice dinners while he’s pretending to be her boyfriend.
To Yennefer’s surprise, Geralt buys the ruse and seems pleased to learn that his two best friends can not only be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off, but actually care about each other.
Jaskier and Yennefer keep meaning to stage an amicable breakup, but neither of them have the heart to do that to Geralt. So they keep letting it drag on: babysitting Ciri together, going out to dinner with Geralt and Eskel, visiting Jaskier’s family together.
The problem is that Jaskier is very physically affectionate with everyone he loves and in order to keep up the ruse, he has to touch Yennefer all the time. Yennefer… does not hate this as much as she should. In fact, she often likes it in a way that is not appropriate for a family event.
If you fuck your fake boyfriend in the car on the side of the road on the way home from dinner with your best friend and his family because he had his hand on your knee all night and it drove you wild, it doesn’t mean anything, okay? It’s just for research.
Jaskier is stunned when he realizes doing simple things like putting his arm around Yennefer and kissing her cheek seems to make her melt. It doesn’t break his heart at all when he realizes how long it’s probably been since someone casually touched her.
Surprising no one but themselves, feelings start being felt. They both handle it in a predictably mature way.
Jaskier immediately goes to get drinks with an ex. Eskel catches him and when Jaskier confesses everything, Eskel tells him that Geralt deserves to know.
Jaskier and Yennefer confess everything to Geralt and their other friends, who are all gobsmacked, because Jaskier and Yennefer were so cute together. And they seemed so happy. And they were spending so much time together, even when no one else was around. And Triss didn’t want to say anything, but she totally saw them fucking on the side of the road when she was driving back from Geralt’s place one night.
Jaskier and Yennefer come to the conclusion at the same time that this fake dating thing isn’t as fake as they both liked to think. In fact, they’re pretty crazy about each other.
When they come back to tell Geralt that they’re dating— for real this time— he just shakes his head, hands them Ciri, and goes to take a nap. Something tells him that he’s going to regret forcing them to figure their shit out.
(He does not actually regret it, except for when they team up against him. Which is often.)
Fanfic Trope Mashup
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Geralt and sexual assaults
As you know, sexual assault and rape usually happens only – or mostly – to female characters. Especially in medieval and war settings of the books: which yes, is realistic, but also often used just for shock value, and ignores that men also can be victims of sexual assault. I’m not going to get into statistics for this one – we know it happens, we know that society often ignores it – but I’m going to talk about how it’s shown in The Witcher books.
Usually, when books are written by a male author, you see that they usually flinch away from such topic. Yet, Sapkowski approaches important topics as racism, women agency, abortion rights, climate change, war, prejudice – head on. And so, we see not only Jarre, a male student from Nenneke’s temple, narrowly escaping a threat of being sexually assaulted… but Geralt, too. A male character— male protagonist, even! And, what’s interesting (and unfortunate for him), he doesn’t exactly… escape the threat. This doesn’t happen every day nor in every book. I’m going to get further into this below, but I just want to add something right now:
…how this changes when it comes to the games and fandom. I think we all agree that if someone has to be put under influence (be it drugs or alcohol… or a spell) to agree to have sex with other person, that act is not consensual by any means. Especially if that same person keeps on refusing the advances later on when they’re sober. And yet, Triss Merigold, your typical genderbent “Nice Guy™” (who used a spell to get Geralt into her bed, and then enjoyed his pain) is made into Geralt’s potential love interest in the games! It honestly blows my mind, seriously. Then the fandom (especially Team Triss gamers) who tends to say things like “yeah, she’s a rapist, but she’s hot”, “that was a very small spell!” etc. It ties into the society’s line of bullshit and hurtful argument that “men can’t be raped”, “a guy should be happy he scored with a hottie” and such. Ugh.
Unfortunately for Geralt, but very in line with Sapkowski’s play on subverting the tropes (the Chosen One telling the world to fuck itself after she loses everything, and fucking off; the Love Interest not being a fawning and fainting damsel in distress; the Male Co-Protagonist being passive and not wanting to be a hero or to change the world), Sapko decided to – apart from having some female characters be assaulted or threatened (to be fair, I remember the most vividly the time with a girl from a family that died from some plague – because it was something that finally made Geralt decide consciously to tell his neutrality to go fuck itself, and act) – have Geralt join that group, too.
I have to say, I don’t usually come across any male characters in the books or shows – and, especially, male protagonists – that have the same fate fall upon them that falls on their female counterparts. It’s an important topic in itself – it shows that men can be vulnerable too. And Geralt – a “tough” witcher – shows that in a very solid way. Yes, he’s a passive, pacifistic, pretty submissive character around his friends and loved ones, but also a character that can fight very well and stands up to injustice. He preaches neutrality, but comes to recognize neutrality as something “cruel”. And he’s right. He might not want to engage in the beginning (like when a “crazy village girl” was about to be on trial for being a witch, and Jaskier turned to look at Geralt so he’d help her… but Geralt avoided his gaze), but will do it anyway – he won’t stand innocents being hurt (two minutes later, Geralt challenged the priest to leave the girl alone ;)).
I think Geralt not doing anything to defend himself (apart from one instance - he defended himself against two men in prison who wanted to rape him - we’ll get to it in a bit) falls in line with his character: he takes a lot of shit when it’s about him, but draws the line when it’s about others. Like – with Coral. When Geralt really turned away from her? When she teleported away to safety instead of helping him save drowning people. He even accused her of leaving later. He liked Coral when she was dangerous but helping women at the same time, but the moment he discovered she would abandon others in need? She stopped existing to him right then.
So, what are the times that Geralt’s assaulted? And how he reacts? I’m talking about them under the cut below :)
1.       Dub-con. Iola.
Why Iola? She had sex with Geralt while he was barely conscious and injured. It’s literally the first scene of the books, and it sets the tone of it. Geralt is there in Ellander, he can’t really move after the fight with the striga and Nenneke reopening his wounds to stitch them properly. He definitely wasn’t in the right position to make a decision: “Yet this faint sound was enough to wake the witcher - or maybe it only tore him from the half-slumber in which he rocked monotonously, as though travelling though fathomless depths, suspended between the sea bed and its calm surface amidst gently undulating strands of seaweed”.
 Geralt’s reaction is also very telling:
 “'It's late,' said Nenneke, opening the shutters. 'You've slept in. Off with you, Iola.'
The girl sat up suddenly and leant out of bed to take her mantle from the floor. Geralt felt a trickle of cool saliva on his shoulder, where her lips had been a moment ago.
'Wait...' he said hesitantly. She looked at him, quickly turned away.
She had changed. There was nothing of the water nymph in her any more, nothing of the luminous, chamomile-scented apparition she had been at dawn. Her eyes were blue, not black. And she had freckles - on her nose, her neckline, her shoulders. They weren't unattractive, they suited her complexion and reddish hair. But he hadn't seen them at dawn, when she had been his dream. With shame he realized he felt resentment towards her, resentment that she hadn't remained a dream, and that he would never forgive himself for it.
'Wait,' he repeated. 'Iola... I wanted—'
'Don't speak to her, Geralt,' said Nenneke. 'She won't answer you anyway. Off with you, Iola.'
Wrapped in her mantle the girl pattered towards the door, her bare feet slapping the floor - troubled, flushed, awkward. No longer reminding him, in any way, of—
Yennefer.”
He thought that Iola had been his dream, she reminded him of Yennefer, and he felt a resentment towards Iola that she wasn’t a dream. I’m calling it a dub-con because Geralt’s aware what was done to him, but stays good friends with Iola later nonetheless.
 2.       Dub-con. Essi Daven.
 Geralt’s feelings about her – after the first fascination – are pretty clear:
“She threw herself violently on his neck. Geralt had anticipated the movement, turning his head for a cool kiss on the cheek. He hugged her gently but with some reservation. He felt the girl's body stiffen and slowly withdraw, but no farther than the length of the arms she was always resting on her shoulders. He knew what she wanted, but he did not meet her expectations: he was not attracted to her.”
 And yet, Essi cries and mopes about Geralt refusing her like a teenage girl mourning the fact that her crush doesn’t love her back (because she’s eighteen, and, well, yes xD). Geralt’s reactions are clear: he doesn’t even think about Essi, his low self-esteem makes him assume that Yen feels about him just like he feels about Essi.
“’By the devil,’ he thought, ‘if, when she is with me, Yennefer feels exactly what I'm feeling now, I sympathize with her plight. I'll never be surprised by her reactions; I'll never hate them... never. (…) No, I will no longer blame Yennefer for being unable and unwilling to give me a little bit of attention. I know now that the smallest trace is as heavy as gold.’”
Essi continues to whine and cry, blaming Geralt that he didn’t bewitch her (wow), says that she would gladly be humiliated in order to get an antidote for love, she says that she hates Yennefer because Geralt loves her, threatens her, she says that she hates Geralt for not taking advantage of her. Like… wowwowwow – wow ;p
“I should,” she moaned again, “be grateful that you don't try to take advantage of the situation. But this is not the case. I am ashamed of that too. I hate your silence and your eyes dilated with fear. I hate you... for your silence, your sincerity, your... Her too, I hate her, the sorceress; I would gladly settle things with her using my knife... I hate her.”
 And what happens later? Jaskier backs Essi up and both guilt-trips and peer-pressures Geralt into having sex with Essi. The story is called “A Little Sacrifice”. And Geralt sacrificed himself for her happiness.
 3.       Non-con. Triss Merigold.
I feel like I don’t even need to explain this at length ;):
a) ‘Of course it wasn’t Geralt. Don’t get excited, little one. Don’t get excited, just think of his expression in the stable. You’ve seen expressions like that before. You’ve seen them, so don’t kid yourself. The foolish, contrite, embarrassed expressions of men who want to forget, who regret, who don’t want to remember what happened, don’t want to go back to what has been. By all the gods, little one, don’t fool yourself it’s different this time. It’s never different. And you know it. Because, after all, you’ve had a fair amount of experience.’
 b) Then Geralt of Rivia appeared. A witcher leading a stormy life, and tied to her good friend Yennefer in a strange, turbulent and almost violent relationship Triss had watched them both and was jealous even though it seemed there was little to be jealous of. Their relationship quite obviously made them both unhappy, had led straight to destruction, pain and yet, against all logic… it had lasted. Triss couldn’t understand it. And it had fascinated her. It had fascinated her to such an extent that… she had seduced the witcher – with the help of a little magic. She had hit on a propitious moment, a moment when he and Yennefer had scratched at each other’s eyes yet again and had abruptly parted. Geralt had needed warmth, and had wanted to forget. No, Triss had not desired to take him away from Yennefer. As a matter of fact, her friend was more important to her than he was. But her brief relationship with the witcher had not disappointed. She had found what she was looking for – emotions in the form of guilt, anxiety and pain. His pain. She had experienced his emotions, it had excited her and, when they parted, she had been unable to forget it. And she had only recently understood what pain is. The moment when she had overwhelmingly wanted to be with him again. For a short while – just for a moment – to be with him.
Geralt doesn’t know what was done to him, that Triss used magic to make him agree to choose her. He thinks he did it on his own. And because of that, he… he even apologizes (!) to Triss for being unable to love her! Ahh, that scene frustrated me the most because an unaware victim apologized to his rapist. As for Triss, she doesn’t learn:
a) she greets Geralt with an unwanted kiss – he tries to stop her
b) Vilgefortz in Ciri’s visions tells her to stay away from Geralt and stop torturing him – if one of your main bad guys says something like that, then you know it’s serious :D
c) Triss has diarrhea and keeps trying to kiss Geralt while he and Ciri bathe her. Ciri is weirded out, Yarpen comments that she shouldn’t mistake kindness for love, and Geralt tries to put a stop to those kisses
d) she keeps obsessing over Geralt and yet betrays them all (Ciri, Geralt, Yen) for the Lodge. Yen dragging Triss is the single most satisfying scene in the books ;p
4.       Verbal assault. Marti and Sabrina.
Geralt clearly doesn’t feel comfortable with their comments about him - and the comments also weren’t made out of a good heart.
‘Don’t talk so loud, Marti,’ hissed Sabrina. ‘Don’t look at him and don’t grin. Yennefer’s watching us too. And stay classy. Do you really want to seduce him? That would be in bad taste.’
‘Hmm, you’re right,’ agreed Marti after a moment’s thought. ‘But what if he suddenly came over and suggested it himself?’
‘In that case,’ said Sabrina Glevissig, glancing at the witcher with a predatory, coal-black eye. ‘I’d give it to him without a second thought, even lying on a rock.’
‘I’d even do it lying on a hedgehog,’ sniggered Marti.
The witcher, staring at the tablecloth, hid his foolish expression behind a prawn and a lettuce leaf, extremely pleased to have the mutation of his blood vessels which prevented him from blushing.
 He even tells about it Yennefer, calling it “rape”, but she doesn’t take him seriously:
‘I will,’ he sighed. ‘But I can’t imagine your wily old fox is capable of surprising me. Not after what I’ve been through here. I’ve been mauled by spies and jumped by endangered reptiles and ermines. I’ve been fed nonexistent caviar. Nymphomaniacs with no interest in men have questioned my manhood. I’ve been threatened with rape on a hedgehog, menaced by the prospect of pregnancy, and even of an orgasm, but one without any of the ritual movements. Ugh . . .’
‘Have you been drinking?’
 5.       Non-con. Female guards in Kerrack.
Geralt takes the abuse while staying polite and mostly silent, even if he’s clearly uncomfortable. The first time he practically escapes out of the room, the second time he has to engage in a fight, but it’s about his stolen swords, not about defending his honor and virtue.
1) The second woman approached and with a movement opened Geralt’s shirt, grabbed the silver chain and pulled out his medallion. (...) ‘A witcher! A mercenary monster slayer! Giving up his sword! Instantly! Humble as shit!’ ‘He would give up his dick had we ask.’ ‘Let’s ask him then! huh, girls? Let him take it out.’ ‘We will see what kind of dick, witchers have.’ ‘Enough!’ the commander shouted. ‘Get gone, cunts! Gonschorek! Come here now! Gonschorek!’
2) ‘The witcher, look at him,’ said the commandant standing very near. ‘He came here.’ ‘I'm leaving town. I'm here to claim my belongings.’ ‘If we let you,’ a second guard elbowed him seemingly accidentally. ‘What will we get in return? You have to buy yourself out, pal, buy out. Eh, wenches? What we will make him do?’ ‘Let him kiss every one of us on the bare ass.’ ‘With licking! And slipping!’ ‘But girls! He will infect us!’ ‘But he has to,’ she pushed him with her breast, hard as rocks, ‘please us somehow, no?’
 3) He was hit in the back of the head, and immediately after that in the ear. And then the loins. One of them tripped him, and two of them got on top of him, and pounding him with fists. The rest were not skimping on kicking him. With a hit of a forehead in the face he eliminated one of guards lying on him, but the other instantly took over. The commandant he recognized because of the dripping sauce. With a blow from overhead he was hit in the teeth. He spat blood straight into her eyes. ‘A knife,’ she shouted, swinging her shaved head. ‘Give me knife! I will cut off his balls!’ ‘Why a knife!’ shouted another. ‘I'll bite his balls off!’
 6.       Non-con. Two fellow prisoners, male.
‘In custody,’ the lawyer finally lifted her eyes, ‘you had beaten two fellow prisoners. I should probably know the reason behind it?’ ‘Firstly I discarded their sexual advances and they did not want to understand that no means no. Secondly I like to beat people up. Thirdly - it’s a lie. They wounded themselves. With the walls. To denigrate me.’ He was talking slowly and blankly. A week in custody had made him completely indifferent. (...) Geralt sighed. He was curious to see if his fellow prisoners had come to their senses, and if they had learned from history. And if he would be forced to beat them up again.
This is the only time when Geralt actually puts up a fight and defends himself, even if he’s very… indifferent and numb after that week in prison in their company. But this is a direct attack with a direct intend to bend Geralt over and have his way with him. Because of that, Geralt is left with no choice but to act and protect himself.
 So! What do you think about this all, hmm? I’m going to wrap this up here, because we’re approaching 3k words, but I’m curious about your opinions – after all, Geralt not only faces prejudice and hatred, but, well, even this, and out of six times, he only one time really put up a fight – I think it speaks a lot about his tendency to just take the abuse and think about other people first.
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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years
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There are a lot of fics in the fandom where Jaskier is a concubine or bed warmer and is gifted to Geralt (usually warlord Geralt) and that becomes his path to freedom and love. Some of them are among the best fics in the fandom. One of them is one of my favorite fics ever.
But I do get to thinking...
Men who are physically strong and skilled in combat (like Geralt) can also be exploited. In fact, physical power is one of the most limited forms of power, and witchers are exploited and oppressed in canon. And by the same token, men who can't wield a weapon (like Jaskier), can be very powerful if they are born into the correct family.
So. What if we flip their roles in the narrative? (I'm sure there are flipped fics out there, but I'm going to spin my own idea for a minute.) Alright. Here we go. My idea for Prince Jaskier/Gladiator Geralt.
CW for references to past sexual abuse. Do not read further if you don't want to read any references to sexual abuse. As I said, it is a reversal of the trope mentioned above, so none of the abuse is between Geralt and Jaskier, but the premise does involve servitude and abuse.
---------
Jaskier is a prince sent out on his very first diplomatic visit. He has been chosen for this task (negotiating a treaty) because he has come of age, and his father wants him to make a match with the princess. His father has managed to keep his country's economic crisis a secret, but it won't stay that way for long. If Jaskier can impress his hosts perhaps he can marry the princess, and his people will be pulled back from the brink of financial ruin.
But before Jaskier goes, his father counsels him that he will see some barbaric practices in this other country. Though this other country is wealthy and advanced technologically, it still engages in things like gladiator fights and indentured servitude. Jaskier says that he understands. He can keep his mouth shut no matter what he sees. He knows that they are counting on him.
The first day of the visit goes well. During a long session of intense negotiations, Jaskier makes a brilliant first impression, so much so that the king invites him to be the guest of honor at a gladiator fight. Jaskier does not have a stomach for violence or gore. So he downs a few goblets of wine to take the edge off and to keep himself relaxed enough to not vomit at the first sight of entrails.
Their prize gladiator is a striking, white haired warrior with mystical powers. He has an enviable streak of wins, and the people love him. Part of why they love him is because he seems to hate killing people. He will do it efficiently and well, in order to defend his life. But when they push someone out into the ring that is ill prepared or a poor match for him, he does everything he can to stall or stop the fight.
Once, the king tells Jaskier, he refused to fight and managed to convince his opponent to refuse to fight. They publicly executed several prisoners in retaliation, so now he fights. But he curses them elaborately after every win.
Instead of it weighing on their conscience, however, the audience moons over him as a noble assassin, a killer with a heart of gold. It's the irony, it's the angst. They love him. Not enough to free him of course, but they love him.
Jaskier worries he is not drunk enough for this, but he manages. As expected, the warrior wins the fight. It is a tough match against a skilled and weathered opponent. But he fights with the mesmerizing grace of a brutal dancer and he wins in a spectacular fashion. The crowd goes berserk.
Though Jaskier finds the warrior incredibly compelling, his eyes drawn to him over and over like a beacon, he is relieved as fuck that the whole thing is over. He can't wait to go back to his room and cleanse away the memory of that horrible pulsing severed carotid with maybe a song or another drink. He can't wait to have more power and ban some of these horrific practices.
But before he can get back to his room, the king makes him an offer that he is entirely unprepared for. He has taken such a liking to Jaskier that he offers to send the champion up to his room.
That is when Jaskier learns that the royal ladies (and some of the men) take great pride in partaking of the warrior after a match. It is the highest honor.
It's partly his beautiful physique. They have special clothing made up for him that resembles his armor, but offers more access. It's partly the danger and the thrill of conquering such a violent beast. They bind him and they station guards close by so he can't retaliate. But the thought that he could kill them with the twist of a wrist is part of the appeal. It is also partly the exclusivity. The entire kingdom loses their mind for this warrior, but it is only they who have access to him. It gives these wealthy, bored, royals a rare thrill.
When his host explains all of this, Jaskier's stomach drops almost to the soles of his shoes. His first instinct is to be outraged. To say no. His kingdom has done away with bed warmers and...well...sex slaves, really. He has been brought up to believe that ravaging someone, anyone, is a base, cruel, horrible thing to do.
So he almost says no. He almost shouts it. Frankly, he would like to slap the king across his smug beastly face. Obviously he can't do that. But he wants to. But then a thought flickers across his mind. If he says no, then this warrior will be sent to someone else. And who knows who that person will be and what they will do to him.
Jaskier feels sick to his stomach when he accepts the king's offer. He hopes his disgust isn't apparent. He tries to make it sound lusty. To his own ears, he fails at it. Besides his disgust for the idea, he is also incredibly inexperienced. If he has to feign an intimate understanding of the specifics of sex, he'll reveal himself to be the young amateur that he is.
But the king is so drunken and self absorbed that he doesn't even notice. He claps Jaskier on the back, calls him my boy, and motions to his guards. The guards jump to attention. The king points down to the arena at the warrior. The warrior is slick with sweat and blood and grime. He is quietly cleaning his sword with a far away look on his face. The cheers of the crowd weigh on him.
Just then, the warrior looks up at Jaskier. His golden eyes feel like a punch to the solar plexus. He sees what is happening. He knows who is being conferred the honor of his body tonight.
Jaskier wants to mouth an apology. To explain himself. Of course he can't. They are too far apart and there is too much noise between them. Besides. Jaskier is currently pretending to be into this. But his eyes slide away guiltily. He feels queasy and he is regretting the wine right about now.
The king asks Jaskier if he wants the warrior grimy or clean. They can bathe him before they send him up, or they can just walk him up as he is, for a more authentic experience. Jaskier feels a cold fury bubbling inside. He shoves it down. He says to send him as he is. Jaskier will draw a bath in his own room and give the gladiator privacy.
The king makes a crude joke about Jaskier liking it dirty, and he almost bites through his tongue in order to hold it. He tastes copper.
Soon, Jaskier is alone in his room, pacing the marble floors, clenching and unclenching his fists. He is deep in concentration, trying to figure out how to play this. When the guards bring the warrior, will they leave? Or will they insist on staying close by? How will Jaskier hide his true intentions from them? Whatever they see, they will undoubtedly report to the king.
Jaskier chews his bottom lip and whispers to himself, practicing what he will say to the warrior if he can get them alone.
You'll be safe tonight.
You don't have to do anything.
Would you like to bathe yourself? I won't look.
Do you want...other clothes?
Suddenly Jaskier feels like the inexperienced, sheltered young prince that he is. His success during negotiations this morning feels like a fluke. He has never taken charge of anything. He's not even fully finished with his second decade of life. Why did he think he could do this? He can hear his own heart beating so hard that his chest cavity is vibrating. He is terrified. Terrified what this grizzled warrior will see when he looks at him. Terrified he will fuck it all up.
When the guards drag in the champion, he has to duck to pass through the doorway. His broad shoulders fill it almost entirely. He comes to stop in the middle of the room, his chains settling and his shoulders stiffening. They have changed him into his costume, which is little more than flimsy strips of leather. Wide expanses of skin glisten with sweat. He lifts his chin and his eyes bore quietly into Jaskier.
Jaskier swallows hard. He can feel his fingers trembling, so he clasps them at his waist. There is something about this man. He isn't like anyone Jaskier has ever met before. There is honesty and nobility but also flint and defiance in his eyes.
The young prince is indeed inexperienced, but in that moment, he understands something very important. He knows the truth in his very bones, and the truth is this...
He is in way over his head. He is utterly doomed.
Not because of the guards or because of his host, the lecherous king. He isn't even doomed because of his father or his obligations.
He is doomed because he already knows in his marrow that he will give anything, sacrifice anything, maybe even his own people, to give this man anything he needs.
PART TWO IN THE REBLOG
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samstree · 3 years
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hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞
37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!
Unfinished Story
Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence
Part of the Empath AU 
Read on AO3
Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.
He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”
The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.
Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.
“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”
The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.
Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—
“Hey, let me help.”
A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.
Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.
Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.
“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”
The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.
“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”
The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.
To Jaskier and Ciri.
His empath bard and his child surprise.
Two halves of his world.
Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.
Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.
Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.
“Geralt?”
Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.
A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.
On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.
“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.
“I dreamed—”
“You are not there anymore.”
“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.
“It wasn’t real.”
“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.
“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”
A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.
“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”
He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”
“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.
“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”
She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.
“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”
It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.
“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.
With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”
“Don’t touch you, I know.”
Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”
Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.
But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.
It really isn’t his strong suit.
“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”
“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”
Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.
“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”
“Do I?”
“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"
“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”
Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.
“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”
Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”
“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”
“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.
“No, but someone else might think differently.”
The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…
“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”
He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.
“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”
Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”
“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”
“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.
“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”
The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.
“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”
“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.
With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”
Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.
He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”
“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”
They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.
“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”
“You are not. Not anymore.”
“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”
“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.
“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”
The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.
The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.
“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.
“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.
And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.
Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.
---
Tagging: @rockysstupidity​ @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses​ @mothmanismyuncle​ @theultimatenerdd​ @percy-jackson-is-sexy-​
Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3
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dapandapod · 3 years
Text
Real housewives of Kaer Morhen
So Witcher but as Real Houswives of Kaer Morhen. Because I can’t get it out of my head. But as a headcanon thingy.
Imagine. 
(On Ao3 now because why the heck not I dont wana lose it xD)
Outside of the big town of Cintra there is block after block of fancy houses. This one is named Kaer Morhen. 
Yennefer and Geralt are married, but in the house next to theirs moves this little boytoy.
Aiden works as the blocks pool boy, and he quickly becomes Jaksiers best friend.
Eskel and Triss are having a bad marrige, struggling real hard behind the scenes, but they show nothing.
So Triss seduces Yennefer.
And Geralt is very much trying not to spy on the very cute neighbour.
Lambert is Jaskiers gardner, and he hates Aiden with a passion. Until he doesn’t.
Vesemir and Tissia live together, they are not married nor in a relationship, but they are like a foster family? They have adoptive children and children who lives with them from time to time to get support from their regular chaotic life.
Yennefer is really mad abou the children, her lawn is in danger for crying out loud. But then she meets Ciri. and she is absolutely melting for her.
Slowly, Triss and Yennefer realize that there is more than sex going on. They are falling in love with each other.
Geralt sees it. He sees his wife falling in love with Triss and out of love with him, and he is so kind about it. They have a very tough conversation and they end up splitting up. They are still friends.
It doesn’t go as well for Triss and Eskel. They have a huge blow out, yelling and screaming. Triss and Yennefer ends up moving in together, and Eskel is alone in their big house. As revenge, he buys a hoard of goats and lets them live in the garden.
The children are playing a new game; “where are the goats today”, and Eskel might be encouraging some of them to uh… move the goats to get them where they are not supposed to be.
Eskel gets offered to take care of a little one that lost her mother. She is small and weak, and he makes her sweaters and names her Lil Bleater.
But she really isn’t well, and in the middle of the night he is forced to let go of his anger and pride and he runs to Triss and Yennefer's door.
Triss opens, and Eskel is crying with the little goat in his arms, begging to see Yennefer, who used to be a vet.
She does help him, and Eskel sits in their kitchen, head in his hand, being a wreck.
But Lil bleater gets better, and in the morning she eats from the bottle she refused before. 
They are all three reluctantly somewhat friends again.
But the goats are still everywhere. Because he can.
And now Geralt is free to deal with… whatever it is he feels for the boytoy Jaskier. Lambert and Jaskier started out as having a thing, and Geralt being his closest neighbour sees them making out everywhere.
Jaskier is of course interested in Geralt from the moment he lays eyes on him, but he doesn’t seem to realize Jaskier is hitting on him.
Geralt only realizes men are allowed to love men when he sees Lambert and Jaskier kiss real tenderly the first time.
It makes him feel things he can’t really place, but he does some googling and he lears a ton of new things. After that, he starts to see that Jaskier is flirting with him, and Jaskier is absolutely delighted when Geralt gets flustered.
(at some point there is a block festival with a pride theme that Jaskier makes them arrange. Eskel makes sweaters for all the goats with all the flags. The children loves it, and it is very chaotic. Ciri especially, who is crushing hard on Cerys, Lamberts niece. (and Crach is Lamberts brother, because we can) and Geralt and Ciri are bonding because they don’t know how to deal with their crushes)
Lambert and Jaskier start out as a fling, but it becomes clear to them both that this is more or less to make someone else jealous. For Jaskier, it is to tease Geralt, to show him what he could have, now that he is single. And for Lambert, well. It is to show Aiden that… he doesn’t know what, but that will teach him. 
And Aiden keeps smirking at him knowingly, and it drives Lambert out of his mind. 
Until it drives him into the pool shed, on his knees, doing what he absolutely haven't been thinking about for months. 
Jaskier finally gets Geralt, but it is by pure accident. It was raining? And he somehow got locked out of his house, thanks to the goats most likely, and Geralt let him sleep in his house. 
Jaskiers pretty hair was sticking to his face, his fancy shirt ruined. Jaskier barely even flirted with him, but when he was warm again, dressed in one of Geralt's shirts and swept in a warm blanket on the couch, Geralt reached in and kissed him. 
It was so gentle and sweet that Jaskier ached, their eyes searched each other before they were leaning in again. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, and for the first time in a long time, Jaskier felt like someone wanted to keep him. 
At some point before Eskel and Triss breaks it off, there is a BBQ where Jaskier is big time flirting with Geralt, and Yen and Triss are sneaking off. Regis, the “head of the block” and his two wards/sons, Valdo and Detlaff are also there, stiff and in full fancy garb. Valdo hates Jaskier with a passion because of his freedom, and they might end up friends at some point?
Philippa is there too, she lives next to Regis on the outskirts of town, she works with wildlife restoration. She is very very taken with a wonderful lady no one has ever seen. 
Detlaff is a real brat and doesn’t want her noisy, smelly house in their block, but Regis is adamant she stays. The nature around them has never looked better, and that is thanks to her and the goats.
Sabrina and Istred are married, and Sabrina is the biggest Karen you have ever seen. Almost bigger than her boobs. Istred work all the time (and is smitten with Yennefer, everybody knows, and Sabrina gets sooo passive agressive around her) and is rarely home, and Sabrina is just the biggest gossip around.
Letho is the milk man.
And he loves goats...... 
:)
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wolf-and-bard · 3 years
Text
The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):
-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.
-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.
-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.
-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting.  Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.
-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"
-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."
-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.
-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.
-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."
-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.
-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.
-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.
-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.
-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.
-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.
-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.
-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.
-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.
-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.
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jaskiersvalley · 2 years
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I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for you and your writing. In times where I feel bad, both you and your writing are always there to comfort me. I truly thank you for that.
(Sorry for how dark this is about to get. Bit of a TW and TMI, I apologise. You don't have to read this bit if you don't want to or are uncomfortable)
My sheep Speckles passed in my arms this morning, and as you can guess, it's been tears, pain, and guilt. But you and your writing have lessened that pain as to where I feel something other than sorrow. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being you. Thank you for writing.
Nonnie, I am so sorry for your loss. It sounds like Speckles meant a huge deal to you and life without them is tough right now. I can only hope that, with time, you'll be able to remember all the good bits of having Speckles in your life and look back on those memories fondly. If you ever want to share stories of Speckles or need a willing listening ear, my DMs are open.
It humbles me to no end that my writing has given you such comfort. And I can only hope that in continues to do so, offering a moment of reprieve, a distraction when you need it. Here's another little fic to try and help take your mind off things.
To Be Human
Winter and Kaer Morhen meant that the witchers who resided there could be themselves without the pressure of society. As Cahir followed Geralt up the path to the old keep, he couldn't help but wonder what that meant. Maybe there were less palatable traits that witchers held at bay in public. Perhaps they liked their meat raw or liked to scratch behind their ears with their feet rather than hands. Or, more sensibly, they could actually express their emotions, unleash their full strength and have opinions while being treated like equals. Either way, Cahir was just looking forward to a bit of stability in life, a bit of peace.
For the first two days it seemed like Cahir had been right. Though he had spent the majority of the first day crashed out on a straw stuffed sack that could almost be called a mattress. That evening he was collected by Eskel, inviting him to join dinner. It was a curious affair, part chaotic family reunion, part feast. Cahir could only marvel at how much food each witcher was working his way through. He and Jaskier were a little more restrained. Looking at the other four, Cahir had to wonder whether they spent the year half starved. It made his heart clench.
The odd thing was, Cahir was enveloped into the folds of the strange family. He was treated no different to any of the others, given a sword and the opportunity to train, delegated his own set of chores. Eskel seemed especially keen to spend time with him and Cahir couldn't deny that he was both flattered and very much returning the interest.
After a hard day of carrying buckets and sacks for repairs, Cahir fell into bed, not even thinking about dinner. Come morning he woke up late and found he'd missed breakfast but that was okay. There was a wonderfully large pot already bubbling away. By the time evening rolled round and Eskel appeared to invite him down, Cahir was famished. Once again the witchers ate more than Cahir had seen anyone consume in one sitting before. It was impressive but Cahir was no slouch either. He all but gorged himself after having missed a couple of meals. That night he slept like a log and he woke up refreshed in the morning. Ambling down to halls, Cahir was surprised to find it empty. Instead, he followed the sounds of training to the courtyard where the others were already playing around with swords and signs. Perhaps they trained before breakfast. So Cahir joined in with a grin.
Alas, after training they turned to chores. Cahir got to muck out the stables. It wasn't pleasant but he preferred it to hefting rocks around for repairs. Muscle ache wasn't something he'd had in a while but between the heavy manual labour and training, he was harshly reminded that it was very much a thing. The broom in his hands pressed on newly formed blisters. Despite being used to fighting, Cahir had grown accustomed to Nilgaardian swords. The ones witchers used were weighted differently and the grip sat just slightly wrong in his palms. So the callouses on Cahir's palms and fingers were useless, the new swords pressed and chafed the more sensitive parts and brought blisters to the surface. It made mucking out the stables a panful affair but he gritted his teeth. None of the others complained and he'd been taught better than to draw attention to weakness. Life in the army had prepared him for dealing with discomfort and knowing his place. Sometimes Cahir was even grateful for it.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Cahir was done with his chores. His stomach rumbled and his lips were dry. Hopefully they would have an early dinner. In the army food was served when it was ready. Snacks and the like were a rare treat that was bought by individuals when they had the money and access. Whether it was shared with friends was a whole different matter, and Cahir knew better than to ask. Still, when he saw Jaskier happily munching on some dried fruits, Cahir was sorely tempted. But no, he couldn't do that. Dinner would be soon anyway.
Only, dinner wasn't soon. Nobody even mentioned food. They played gwent, chattered and slowly, one by one, retired to bed. Temptation to sneak into the pantry was strong but Cahir resisted. He hadn't been given permission to go in there, the others had no way of obtaining more food other than if they went hunting. It wouldn't have been fair of Cahir to have more than what he was allowed.
Come morning, Cahir's stomach ached. It wasn't the longest he had gone without food, sometimes the army had shit luck and not enough supplies. But that wasn't to say he was fine with it. To silence the rumbling of his stomach, Cahir scooped up some snow when nobody was paying him any attention. It didn't really solve anything but certainly fooled his body into thinking it had something to digest at least.
Thankfully they had dinner that evening. Cahir felt like a starving man and shovelled food into his mouth until he was almost sick. It was a stupid thing to do, he knew it but he couldn't help himself. He didn't mean to be greedy and, when all things were considered, he still didn't come anywhere close to eating as much as any of the witchers.
There was no breakfast the next morning. By the afternoon Cahir was more than hungry again. Alas, there was no dinner. He tried not to be jealous of Jaskier who sat in Geralt's lap, snacking on some nuts.
It was an odd pattern to life. Cahir tried to get used to it but really struggled. He was no witcher, he couldn't keep up with all the activity and lack of sustenance. What made it all the more difficult was that Jaskier seemed to have free access to the pantry. Then again, he was a bard and a success in his own right, probably earned more in a year than Cahir had in his whole career with the army. So Jaskier no doubt contributed to the food stash, brought his own snacks and earned the right to eat as and when he pleased. It wasn't like Cahir had much he could contribute; no money, no resources, he couldn't even earn his keep by teaching fighting as the others regularly beat him. Sadly, Cahir couldn't even claim to have moral integrity or loyalty, those he abandoned when he carried out orders regardless of his opinions and when he defected. Really, all Cahir could do was help out around the keep as needed. So he kept mucking out the stables, mixing up mortar, chopping wood. He had taken to wrapping his hands to try and protect them. Alas, he had blisters within blisters and they were agony.
Hunger became a more consistent companion than the others. Eskel still sought him out but Cahir didn't have the ability to think extensively about what it could mean, whether it was flirting or just how Eskel was. The pangs of hunger and worries about being seen as weak clouded his mind completely.
One evening Cahir was desperate. Snow was falling, it was cold and yet they still trained, nailed wood over cracks in the walls and the animals needed tending to. Trying not to be greedy, Cahir looked around the table as the witchers ate with their usual gusto. Nobody was paying him much attention and he was only human, he was weak. The hunk of bread he snagged from the basket near him was sequestered away. Cahir could have sworn it gained weight and burned his thigh the more he thought about it. But he was so hungry between meals. Guilt gnawed away at him for stealing the bread yet he couldn't bring himself to put it back. He'd just eat less at the next meal, he told himself. And he'd work harder to make up for his greed.
Even though the next morning his stomach didn't hurt quite so bad, the shame and guilt made Cahir feel sick. But there was no denying that having bread before starting the day and just before bed really did help. It meant Cahir actually could dedicate his energy to deciphering that yes, Eskel probably was flirting with him. It was oddly nice even if Cahir didn't know how genuine it was. Still, when Eskel suggested they go hunting together, Cahir jumped at the chance.
In the morning, the last two bites of stale bread still tasted like bliss and Cahir pulled himself together for another day. Eskel had said that their departure would depend on the weather and, given that large snowflakes were whipping past his window, Cahir assumed they wouldn't head out that morning. He was right. It was no small relief as it meant that Cahir could go out the next morning, after a good meal. Alas, he didn't get a chance to snag more bread. Not that he would have dared to, going out hunting with Eskel meant likely zero privacy and the smell of his stolen food would have been too easy to detect.
Heading out with Eskel was rather thrilling. The world around them was white, the snow thick and crisp under their feet. Somehow Cahir hadn't anticipated they would venture quite so far. He had honestly thought they would be back by nightfall. So when they were more than half a day's travel from Kaer Morhen, Cahir was taken by surprise. Eventually though Eskel looked around and nodded.
"We'll set out traps. And make camp a little way over."
The cold made setting traps a little more tricky, Cahir's hands didn't want to co-operate all that well. But he did it and ended up huddled by a small fire Eskel had set up.
"I promise this isn't a sleazy attempt-" Eskel began with a small grin, "-unless you want it to be. But it will be warmer if we share a bedroll."
Part of Cahir had assumed this little hunting trip had been a ploy by Eskel for them to spend time together away from the others. Something that he both appreciated and was excited by.
"As much as I want it to be, I think if we did anything, my dick would be like an icicle. And nobody would enjoy that."
Snickering, Eskel nodded. It was how they ended up huddled under a couple of furs, Eskel incredibly warm against Cahir's back. All in all, it was nice. It was the most contact Cahir had had for a long time and he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed it until that moment.
The sun rose to find Cahir had turned during the night and had wrapped around Eskel, tucked close to his chest and under his chin. It made the awful hunger easier to live with in a way. Whether it was worth it or not wasn't really up for debate, it was what he had and he was going to be content with it.
Gathering their prey from the traps, Eskel grinned.
"I was thinking of snagging a boar while we're out here. If you want to gut the rabbits, save us having to carry their weight and have the mess at home."
It was something Cahir agreed to easily. He was already dreading the walk back, knowing his energy was going to be barely enough. If he'd had to hunt boar on top of that, who knew what would happen.
The walk back was miserable. Eskel seemed in good spirits as he led them, boar slung across his shoulders. It meant Cahir didn't feel quite so self-conscious for stumbling and being slow. At least Eskel had the grace to not keep going at an unattainable speed. So really Cahir only had himself to blame that they were not going at the pace Eskel had wanted. It meant that darkness descended around them and they walked the last hour or so by torchlight.
As they passed through the gates, Cahir had just one thought that kept him going; dinner. He was so hungry, had found a few icicles to suck on along to way to try and push through the hunger. Walking into Kaer Morhen, Cahir's heart plummeted. The hall was empty, there was nothing left on the table except Lambert's plate which he had a knack for leaving out. All the food had been put away though. Trying to hold back tears of frustration, Cahir coughed when Eskel playfully slapped him on the back.
"Ah, too bad. We'll get together in a couple of days."
A couple of days. Cahir couldn't last that long. Even now his hands were shaking, he felt a little dizzy. Another two days without food wasn't something he could survive. But it looked like he had no other choice.
That night he barely slept, the growls of his stomach were bordering on painful. Temptation was to sneak down to the pantry and have some leftovers. But Cahir wanted to be better than that. He didn't want to steal, not when he'd been invited to Geralt's home which was already such a generous gesture.
With the sun, Cahir got up. The stables needed mucking out before training in the courtyard commenced. He didn't do as good a job as he could have, it definitely wasn't up to his usual standards. But Cahir was so hungry, it was all he could think about. As he topped up the trough for the animals, he spotted an apple. Half of it was brown and bruised beyond being fit for human consumption. But the other half looked fine. Casting furtive looks around, Cahir snatched the apple before any of the animals could get to it. He felt like the lowest of the low, like scum for stealing from the animals. But he was so hungry. Biting into the apple, Cahir choked back a sob. It was so sweet and yet the he couldn't enjoy it. The apple sat heavy in his stomach.
There wasn't time to dwell on it though. Cahir needed to get going, the others were probably already warming up for training. Sure enough the courtyard was where the others were gathered. Eskel handed Cahir a sword with a shy smile. Taking it, Cahir tried not to look too glum.
Warming up was already an exhausting chore. Cahir was sloppy, going through the motions without anything more than the bare minimum. His arms shook as he lifted the sword, his blisters burned as the rub.
"Pups, two against one," Vesemir called. It gave Cahir a chance to sit at the edge of the courtyard, heedless of the cold wetness that seeped into his bones. His stomach churned. At some point Cahir had closed his eyes, listening to the clash of swords and laughter. It devolved into grunts and growls until Vesemir called out a loud "enough".
"Cahir, come play with me," Eskel called.
It was the last thing Cahir wanted but he wasn't going to refuse. With not inconsiderable effort he stood up. The world swayed and black patches appeared in his vision. Not that it was anything new, it had been happening for the last few days. But it wasn't easing. And the ringing in his ears was drowning out all sounds. The sword in his hand felt heavy, he couldn't lift it despite his best efforts, thinking he could feign his way to being alright. He needed to- he needed-
"Cahir!" Someone called his name. Cahir needed to reply. Needed to- "Cahir!"
The world went completely black and the last thing Cahir heard, or thought he heard, was the yell of "someone fucking catch him!".
Warmth was the first thing that seeped into Cahir's consciousness. He was on something soft, a fire crackled nearby. It was drowned out by shouting. Someone was really pissed off. By the sounds of it, it was Jaskier.
"-showed him the pantry? Or thought to feed him?"
"We thought he'd ask if he needed something." That was definitely Geralt's voice.
With a scoff, Jaskier growled. "This is Cahir we're talking about. When have you ever known him to ask for something for himself?"
"Why didn't you show him then?" Geralt was defensive, Cahir opened his eyes and saw how Jaskier's back was to him and a huddle of very hangdog witchers were stood facing him.
"Because this is your home. I'm a guest here too. I can't take such liberties with your winter sanctuary."
Something pained crossed Geralt's face. "It is your home too."
A hand splayed over Geralt's heart as Jaskier walked closer to him. "I love you, you're very sweet. And we'll talk about this later. But for now, we need to focus on Cahir."
Eskel's eyes flickered to Cahir and widened. "He's awake!"
Like the most protective of vultures, they all descended on Cahir. Hands rubbed his back, reassurances were rumbled. Ever so slowly and gently he was sat up, resting weakly against a broad, warm chest.
"Here." Vesemir crouched opposite Cahir and held out a bowl. "Some weak broth to help. Once you've got some strength back, I believe a tour of the pantry is owed."
Slowly, Cahir sipped at the warm broth. Thankfully it wasn't too much for his stomach to handle, it brought no pain from suddenly filling him. He didn't expect Eskel to stroke through his hair, helping keep it out of his face.
"if you'll let me-" Eskel rumbled, "-I'll join you at the table whenever you need to eat. I may not join you, but I'd like to keep you company."
It sounded quite lovely. Something settled in Cahir's chest that he hadn't been aware of before. Looking around at the concerned faces, maybe he'd been silly assuming things. But it felt like they'd all made mistakes. Thankfully, none of them were unfixable.
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