#& calanthe ( lwiamatka )

[betterbard]

@lwiamatka liked for a lyric starter ! song: tightrope from the greatest showman

♪ "hand in my hand, and we promised to never let go. we're walking a tightrope." ♪

a youthful valdo strums his lyre, catching calanthe's eyes across the room. it's a softer song, with slower dancing at the ball. he smiles weakly, gazing away.

♪ "never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?" ♪

[daffodillz]

@lwiamatka with RHAENYS TARGARYEN

———  ❛ CALANTHE! ❜ the young princess hailed in greeting as she slid from her mount’s back. rhaenys could not hide her elation, not only upon seeing her dear friend again, but on sharing with her this latest triumph. ❛ is it not just as i wrote to you? the next time you see me, i shall be on dragonback! ❜ head held high and voice full of pride, a true targaryen in both word and deed. lilac eyes turned back to her dragon. the red queen was one of the swiftest dragons alive, even faster than her father’s caraxes, and in rhaenys’ opinion she was the most beautiful dragon she had ever seen. ❛ her name is meleys, ❜ voice is soft a moment, fond, yet when she returns her attention to her friend, there is mischief in her look. ❛ i do hope you are not afraid of heights, my lady. ❜    

[wiedzmineczka]

EDIT : THE WITCHER ADELA VAN DER WOUD & QUEEN CALANTHE FIONA RIANNON

!! for @lwiamatka only !!

[ofhumanvoice-a]

@lwiamatka liked for a cora starter

Cora didn't have to be told that the family she had married into still largely considered the miller's daughter beneath them, however much gold she could spin. Fine, she had decided. She was not about to grovel for anyone's approval. They were the ones who would one day be down on their knees. And so as she greeted Calanthe-the wife of one of Henry's older brothers and a queen, apparently, in her own right-her manner was rather cold, although her words were friendly enough.

"A shame we are only meeting now and you were not able to make it for the wedding."

[miscreantes]

miscreantes. low activity & highly selective fantasy-based multi-muse. by ADA. 26, polish, she/her. icon & header by @calisources.

muse list:

the witcher. calanthe fiona riannon, prev. @lwiamatka

a song of ice & fire. baela targaryen, daughter of daemon. gael targaryen, daughter of jaehaerys. rhaena targaryen, daughter of daemon. vanaena velaryon (oc), lady of the tides, mother to the sea snake. visenya targaryen (oc), daughter of daemon, youngest child of daemon and rhaenyra. silverwing. erryk cargyll of the kingsguard (exclusive for @korzion )

baldur's gate. jaheira, the high harper. serena aldmeri (tav), lawful good, cleric of selune. deniér ixaris (tav), lawful neutral, storm sorcerer. rion, the high harper's ward.

sgg's hades.

demeter, goddess of harvest, prev. @winterdecay

[faestorian]

Queen Calanthe and little Ciri for @lwiamatka 🦁👸🦁 Happy birthday, love!

[xradiant]

@lwiamatka​

she had found the thing among Geralt’s things, had read up on it and the thought had immediately popped into her head. she didn’t actually decide on it until she had saddled Kelpie and gone off riding in the direction of Cintra. she was sure that she wouldn’t be noticed, especially not hooded and during the late night as well. she rode without much thinking, somewhat numb as she thought on everything that had happened between her being forced away from her grandmother’s arms to this moment here. Cintra was so different from how she remembered it as a child and that hurt her in a million different ways. she could remember these streets, could remember the gardens in the palace where she had played with her grandmother, the rooms of the palace where she had played and learned and been raised. but most of all she remembered her grandmother. her kind eyes and firm but caring way that she had taken care of Ciri. it all made her heart ache as she stared around the quiet city. it was hours yet until morning. she had plenty of time. 

once she had Kelpie tied to a tree well away from the spot she grabbed her leather scrip and made her way towards the ruins of the courtyard. she had heard stories of the way that she had died, how she - she cuts herself off with a thick swallow and then makes her way further, drawing out the Lamp from within the scrip. situating herself to sit right there on the ground she sets the Lamp there before her as a soft breeze blew through the area. the Lamp started to really glow now. “well, shit -” she mutters as she stares ahead at the warm glow the thing casts everywhere. “- maybe it does work.” there were likely to be plenty of ghosts here given the place and the history of Cintra. but maybe Calanthe, her grandmother, would be the one to hear her, sense her even. was that how it worked? she should have asked questions although she’s pretty sure that Geralt would have wanted to come along and she wanted to do this on her own. she needed to.

“grandmother?” she calls out after clearing her throat some, her eyes scanning the area and then returning to the warm glow ahead of her. “I hope that I’m not interrupting your rest or whatever it is you’re doing right now.” and she feels like a little girl again, peeking in on her grandmother and watching her speak to her council, only to be allowed in so that they could spend the day together. “I thought that we could talk.”

[lwiatkc]

ᴛʜᴇ      ᴇɴᴅ      ᴏꜰ      ᴛʜᴇ      ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ      ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ      ɪɴ      ʀᴀɢᴇ.                    her heart had been in it  ;  and more than that her heart had needed it.  while a PROPHECY had lead her to take down the ultimate enemy, her journey had never felt complete upon roaming everywhere and nowhere within the confines of the Continent.  there was a singular space she desired    --    nay. . . she NEEDED.  it belonged to her once.  to her family.  to the people most important to her.

so with revenge in mind, she set out on ANOTHER hero’s quest.  this one she knew she had to win to be a heroine of her people more so than the heroine of all the worlds.  perhaps others would say the latter is of much more important, but to ciri?  rescuing cintra from the grasps of a heinous emperor felt much more important.

THE LAST REIGNING LIONESS OF CINTRA would have hated that ciri felt the need to bring her up in some of the towns she gathered back to her side.  but she had to remind them of the strength possessed by the people when they were not united by a dictator.  calanthe was loved.  calanthe was everything to the people    --    a martyr who made the loss of she so much harder to swallow.  ciri is her next of kin    --    ciri is the only one with a rightful claim to the cintran throne.

perhaps emhyr should have thought this through before KILLING pavetta and ransacking the entire cintran kingdom.  no false royal would prove to stand up in the battle that would come.  neither emhyr nor his wife would prove useful at the other side of ZIREAEL.

he underestimated so much, most of all his own daughter.  it was not CALANTHE’S name or the strength of geralt and yennefer that rallied the troops behind her.  it is the grand warrior that ciri had become    --    the lioness in her own right        --        that gave strength to those who fought alongside her.  the many queens of the continent and the islands united as one, easily overthrowing the power that the patriarchal emperor had tried to establish.

when emhyr stormed cintra, he took no prisoners.  he slaughtered her people before she was truly old enough to understand what was happening before her.  but cirilla?  she is not of the same mind.

when the moment came, she offered the false cirilla            (  as others had been calling her, the name of the woman long ago lost to the stories of time  )               an opportunity to renounce her husband and remain banished from ANY of the no longer occupied northern cities.  she chose instead to stand by her husband and for that ciri had pity for her.  it would not change that her fate became the same of her husband, but ciri took no pleasure in her death.

the castle that night. . . was quiet.  the celebration was happening outside but she remained indoors.  at first it had all been in rage.  fingers gripped into the fabric of any evidence that remained of nilfgaard’s takeover.  she pulled, ripped, burned with candles    --    ANYTHING that might remind her of the pain    --  

she only stops when she reaches what no longer looks like her favorite room.  grandmama’s study.  not her bedroom where nightmares ran rampant.  and not her OWN room where she tossed and turned and failed mostly to sleep.  but the room where she spent time when it rained and couldn’t run about the gardens with her friends.  the fireplace    --    for you can’t change a fireplace without ripping it apart brick by brick    --    felt the same.  ciri leans down, pulling off a gauntlet and pressing a hand against the warm stone.  her emerald eyes flutter shut and she thinks, just for a moment, of something else. . .

“  grandmama please i don’t want to go to bed!  ”

“  now, now cirineczka  --  ”

in truly the most dramatic fashion a ten year old can offer, ciri sighs and lays across the entire couch resting just in front of the fire.  no room for anyone to sit on it    --    and absolutely no way anyone will be able to drag her from it.

“  no more nicknames!!!!!  ”

“  don’t sigh at your grandmama.  ”

now there’s a pout, but she sits up just enough for her emerald eyes to shine right over to her favorite person.  she acts like she hates it, but there’s nothing she loves more than moments like right now.  especially when calanthe takes advantage of the moment and takes up space on the couch with her, allowing ciri’s head to fall onto her lap.

“  i’m sorry.  i just    --    ”                 a yawn.                  “  am not tired. . .  ”

she hears a voice in the doorway which pulls her from the trance of the memory.  she vaguely hears the mention of joining the festivities outside and nods, pushing herself back to stand and slipping the gauntlet back over her bare hand.  when she’s alone again, just for a moment, her eyes flutter closed to let a single sentence escape her lips:

ɪ   ᴡɪʟʟ   ᴍᴀᴋᴇ   ʏᴏᴜ   ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ,   ʙᴀʙᴄɪᴜ.

ft. @lwiamatka​ <3

[suresaint]

Zelda: Hey, look, finally got some colour back into those royal cheeks of your’s. Looking healthy. Calanthe: Thanks to you, and the others. Of course. Zelda: Just in time for your voyage to Skellige. Calanthe: Yes...

@lwiamatka

[closedcoffins]

" do you not remember? " @ cerys or angouleme? 👉👈

“It was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Haven’t got much left in the way of early childhood memories, you’ll have to forgive me.” The smile Cerys offers is more for the sake of politeness than genuine remembrance. She, of course, has a vague memory of happiness whenever Calanthe---and more principally Ciri---would visit Skellige, but it remains vague no matter how much she tries to recall further.

Memory’s fickle and frustrating like that, Cerys thinks mournfully, but doesn’t dwell on the topic.

“I do remember looking up to you,” she confesses, because it’s true; Cerys an Craite is many things, but a dishonest flatterer is not one of them. “I s’pose I might have looked up to any woman in a similar position at the time. But you were so kind, and I’d never met anyone else like you in my life. I’ve half a mind to throw my horse in the race when the time comes that Skellige needs a new monarch, because of that.”

a lush and seething hell. / accepting.

[wiedzmineczka]

@lwiamatka​ liked for a shippy starter !!

“ but i don’t want to. ” well perhaps she ought to let the queen get on with her work but sadly adela had absolutely no intention of stopping her affections. and she happened to be quite comfortable on calanthe’s lap, so moving was out of the question entirely ... unless it was to move to the bedroom. smiling mischievously, she placed a few more kisses along her jawline, an attempt to sway her into agreeing with her. “ am i not more fun than ... well, whatever dull work you have here. ”

[stormbcrn]

            “YOUR GRACE,”  Daenerys began, her head bowing before meeting green eyes with a familiar smile, “You have always been so generous to me, and to my brother, that I feel asking anymore of you is asking too much.” Silence passed between them before she continued, “Will you help me to start a garden? I want to plant trees, and I want to see them grow.”

starter for  @lwiamatka​​     /      s.c. ♥

[starfrckled-a]

@lwiamatka​​    /    half aen elle.exe has stopped working

𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙴  𝚂𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚂 ,  blood  red  and  seemingly  endless .  a  careless  movement ,  a  pained  grimace  as  abused  bones  shifted  a  little  too  suddenly  ——  and  the  damage  is  done ,  there  is  nothing  that  lloer  can  do  about  it .  he  can  only  watch  as  the  cup  falls  from  the  table  and  clatters  to  the  ground .  loud ,  much  too  loud  in  the  silence  of  the  room .  look  what  you  have  done ,  lloerwedd .  look  at  it  and  tell  me ,  what  shall  be  your  punishment  ?    his  mind  works  on  default  settings ,  on  actions  so  ingrained  in  his  memory  he  can  recall  them  in  his  sleep .  half  elf  kneels  before  monarch ,  bracing  for  pain  —  it  is  easier  to  submit  to  it ,  he  has  learned  —  for  a  hit  that  does  not  come .  aen  elle  speech  almost  rushes  out  of  his  mouth  on  his  next  exhale ,  but  he  stifles  his  tongue ,  bites  down  on  it  until  he  can  taste  blood .  the  cruel  fingers  haunting  his  dreams  are  not  hers ,  never  hers ,  for  she  has  never  raised  a  finger  on  him ,  yet  for  a  moment  past  and  present  twist  sickly  in  his  mind  and  he  pushes  his  head  down ,  eyes  closed .  waiting  for  whatever  punishment  that  shall  befall  him .  

[faestorian]

Oh, the many things we could have had…

Calalt (queen Calanthe x witcher Geralt) commission for @lwiamatka; working on this one was super satisfying, I really need to invest into full scenic pieces more!

[xradiant]

Calanthe gently kissed Ciri's forehead. "Happy birthday, my little darling. Are you ready for the festival tonight?"

she had been near vibrating with excitement all morning, skipping along throughout the day and reminding nearly everyone of her friends that the festival was in her honor. maybe she shouldn’t but her excitement was palpable. it was going to be wonderful! she just knew it. absolutely wonderful. beaming up at her grandma she gives an enthusiastic nod of her head. “ of course I am. I’m sure it’ll be much better than last year’s. “ and she’s more than sure that next year, when she’s older, than things will be doubly better. she can’t help but already look forward to it.

[lwiatkc]

@lwiamatka​ bc we love u

“  help me,        babciu          -- -- -- --  ”                    the gentle voice of the no longer so gentle woman is hoarse from the screams.  the battlefield is not her friend, but it feels as though it’s become her home.                             “  i can’t. . .  ”