#› mousesack ╱ answered asks

[podcastenthusiast]

"Where'd you learn to do this?" Ciri asks, and Geralt's hands go still in her ashen hair.

He doesn't answer.

"Mousesack... he used to braid it for me," she goes on, sadness creeping into her voice. "When I asked where he learned, he said he would braid his little sister's hair when he was a boy, because his mum was too busy. Did your mother teach you?"

"No," he says after a while, resuming the task at hand. "Witchers don't have mothers."

"Oh. Do you mean like how I don't have a mum anymore, or--"

"I just don't. All right?"

There must be too much anger or bitterness in his voice; Ciri's response is a subdued, "All right."

She doesn't smell afraid, but he has hurt her all the same. She should feel safe with him. Kid's been through hell, and she's only curious. He distantly recalls being a curious child once, too.

Geralt forces himself to breathe deeply, to relax his tense muscles and carry on braiding her hair. His hands weren't made for gentle things. He has to focus.

"Who taught you then?"

Persistent girl, isn't she.

This strange reaction of his isn't about Ciri. Or even Visenna. It's about--

"A friend." There. Why had it been so hard to say the word? He doesn't know if he still has the right to call Jaskier that, now. "He used to braid mine, sometimes. Showed me how."

He thinks about Jaskier's delicate hands touching his hair as if it were finely-spun silk. The bard's fingers must have ached after playing for the inn's patrons all evening, but still he would wash the blood and grime from Geralt's hair without (much) complaint, combing all the tangles out with some kind of sweet-smelling oil before gently braiding it. Geralt, relaxed in a way he rarely ever got to be, was usually half-asleep by the time Jaskier finished his ministrations and coaxed the witcher to bed.

Had Geralt ever thanked him? Did Jaskier know how much those small gestures of care meant to him? How few people ever dared to touch a witcher with kindness, even fewer without the expectation of coin or something else in return? He doubts it.

"Is he dead?" Ciri asks, breaking his reverie. The bluntness of her question surprises him; it befits someone far older than her years. A child should not have had to witness so much death.

"No. He's... somewhere safe."

Although with the war... He hopes Jaskier truly is safe. Damn bard always has a knack for finding trouble. Geralt offers a silent prayer to all the gods he doesn't believe in. Please let him be safe.

"Must be nice," Ciri says, soft and tired.

Geralt finishes the last braid. He pats her shoulder, an awkward but sincere comfort.

"We should reach Kaer Morhen in a few days if the weather holds," he tells her. "Rest now."

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter Three

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: blood, violence, death, mentions of killing animals + children, grief, a lot of angst in this one boys

Word Count: 4059

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“You would have killed him.”

The gentle clinking of buckles stopped. Within the silence, footsteps approached, heavy and self-assured. Geralt stood like a disapproving parent at the door to the stall.

Determined to avoid his burning stare, you continued saddling up your horse for the long ride ahead. Bayard, a dark brown horse, speckled with white and grey on his flank, bobbed his head at the Wolf.

Your answer went unspoken, and yet was quite clear to him.

“Why?”

Even as you said it, it felt wrong. “Because it’s what I was hired to do.” It left a sour aftertaste in your mouth. Bitter, ugly guilt.

He said nothing. You were young, younger than most Witchers he knew. You were practically an infant still learning the harsh realities of the world and a Witcher’s place in it. He’d made mistakes in his own time - it was guaranteed you would make some, too.

You grabbed the bridle off the wall and slipped it over Bayard’s head easily. You were fortunate to have a horse that enjoyed riding so much. He was a gift, after all; you could not simply leave him behind.

“What happened?” you asked after the silence stretched too long.

Geralt sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden frame of the stall. “Duny,” he enunciated the strange name, “insisted he needed to repay me for saving him. I called the Law of Surprise.”

“Didn’t learn your lesson, then.” The tease fell flat as he shook his head.

“Pavetta’s with child.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. He studied your horse to avoid your gaze.

“You… So you’re going to claim the child?”

The Witcher grumbled, displeased at the idea of raising a little one of his own. It was no wonder why. All Witchers were ill-suited to family life. The constant traveling, the emotional distance, the contracts they had to take - their whole lives were like a warzone for younglings.

“Mousesack is staying, to look after it.”

“‘It,’” you mimicked, half-amused. “You should have asked for money.”

He hummed, agreeing, as you guided the Appaloosa from the stall. Bayard followed your movements easily, as though he knew precisely what you would do next. You could drop his lead and he would walk to the open doorway of the stable and wait for you to get on his back. You ran a hand down his neck affectionately.

Geralt’s eyes shifted down to your other hand. The cut he made to get you to drop your weapon was wrapped neatly with a fresh bandage. It would heal.

“Where will you go now?” he asked. Word spreads fast, he was really saying. The humans will try killing you before they let you help. You understood nonetheless.

Nilfgaard would be more trusting than the North, since you were one of their own. Your thoughts returned to the Viper Keep, flashes of your brothers bickering and the expansive library held within its walls. It eased your heavy guilt, golden eyes mellowing at the memories.

He followed you most of the way down the stables, but stopped by a separate stall with a brown mare inside. With a foot in the stirrup, you hoisted yourself overtop Bayard and adjusted yourself in the saddle, all the while turning your steed so you could better see the Wolf.

“Home.” Pride swelled and simmered in your gut. You swallowed it down to admit, “I still have much to learn.”

He said nothing, but hummed in silent agreement and commendation. It was hard as a youngling with enhanced abilities and magics to admit when they have done something wrong. At least you could own up to them.

You tilted your head respectfully to the other. “I’ll see you on the Path, Wolf.”

-

After a week in the saddle, you were overjoyed to be home at last. Nights of sleeping on cold, dirt ground and slicing down pesky beasts that got too near to the road would all be worth it to wander the grand halls and fall back into your old, worn-out cot. The time it took to ride up the mountain was over in a brief moment as excitement lifted your spirits-

No.

No, no, no.

Please, no…

Your blood ran ice cold as you bore witness to the horror in front of you. Flames billowed out of windows, banners turned to ash carried along the wind, blood covering every inch of worn cobble.

Bayard snorted and whinnied, anxiously moving his feet as the heat of the blaze hit him.

A body lay prone on the bridge from the Keep. Without thinking, you slid off Bayard's back and rushed forward. The stone scraped your knees as you fell hard by the corpse’s side, but you could not feel it. You didn’t care. Shaking hands turned the scrawny, scorched body over.

A sob ripped from your throat as the face, wide-eyed and mouth agape in terror, came into view. Oalvir. The idiot didn’t pass his final test when you did; he was forced to stay behind and continue training until he could. If he had just killed that stupid ferret, he could have- He wouldn’t have…

It didn’t matter.

None of the scenarios you could dream up would change the outcome. It could not bring back your brother. Hot, fat tears blurred your vision and fell onto his singed clothes. Dead, empty eyes stared into the smoldering sky as you closed his mouth and pushed his eyelids down. Your chest heaved and throat ached as another sob forced its way out. You tried to fight it. You were a deadly assassin - you shouldn’t be crying.

You shouldn’t…

It was useless. You wrapped your arms around him and held his body against your chest, and pressed your face against his silenced pulse, letting your emotions take over as your home was reduced to ash and burnt rock.

“Hey!”

Your head shot up, a flicker of hope igniting in your heart. The scratch of blades being drawn snuffed it out.

“It’s another Witcher!” the man called behind him. He was haloed by the fire pouring from the doorway of the Keep. Your tears blurred him until he was merely a moving smudge of black.

Three men, clad in the armor of the Nilfgaardian, advanced on you. You gently laid Oalvir back on the stone, crossing his arms. May he find rest in a merciful and kind afterlife.

As you stood, you wiped away your tears on the back of your wrist. They would serve you no longer. Dual blades were pulled silently from their leather sheaths. The soldiers held their blades up.

“Stay where you are, Viper,” the first spat. Your very existence repulsed them.

Good.

You rushed forward, reckless, at the man in front. Your steel blade collided with his, pushing him back with the force. With his attention on one hand, your other reached past the interlocked weapons and sliced his throat. He gurgled on his own blood as he collapsed.

The other two hesitated. They did not expect their friend to go down so quickly. The one to your right charged forward with a battle cry. You rolled under his wide swing and came to your feet behind him. Your steel dagger swung in a wide arch behind you and slotted itself under his helm. His body froze as shock took hold. You ripped the blade out. He fell atop the first, a sticky pool of blood stretching out like tendrils as it flowed along the cobble.

The last soldier backed away as you approached. Your steps were calculated and unafraid. You had nothing to lose - your brothers were dead, the mentors were dead, Ivar Evil-Eye was dead. Stuldweck was dead. Everything you held dear was ripped from you. You could walk into the Abyss and face down scores of demons without flinching.

“Stay- Stay back!” he cried. His voice trembled. You did not stop. His foot caught on the uneven stone and he fell backward, helmet flying off with the blow. One arm held his sword up as the other helped him crawl back. “Please! Please- I have a family!”

In one flowing movement, you shoved his sword away and sliced off his hand at the wrist. He screamed. You stepped on his chest and pressed down against his sternum to keep him in place. His hand clawed at your boot, desperately trying to shove it off him. You leaned forward, elbow resting on your knee, until you were nearly face to face with him. He groaned under the pressure.

“So did I,” you hissed. He whimpered. You scowled as his blood tainted your boots. “Who ordered this attack?” He sputtered and pleaded for his life. You pressed your dagger to his throat, an obvious warning. “Tell me, else I’ll cut off all your fingers and toes, your ears, your-”

“Alright! I’ll say! I’ll say!” He sobbed, resigning himself to his fate. You would kill him either way. His chest shuddered under your foot as he inhaled. In his last moments, he wanted to be thinking of his wife and kids. “The Usurper. He ordered it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. Tears poured down his face to the stone below. “Please, that’s all I know, I swear.”

You studied his face for a moment, then sighed. “Rest easy.” His eyes met yours, confused, before the light faded from them. Your dagger lodged itself in his heart, through the tough leather of the armor. A quick death.

You looked up at the school. Memories of kinship and growing up went up in flames with the scrolls and books you studied. Loss and grief filled the hole. Your eyes flicked to the spot in the courtyard where you completed your final trial to become a Witcher. The dark blood against the snow, melting it with its heat. Your precious steed, dead at your hand. You had cried for a week in Stuldweck’s arms.

If you hadn’t killed Bayard, you would not be here to mourn Oalvir’s death, nor the death of all your fallen comrades. You would have fallen with them; side by side, one last time, with your family.

There was nothing left for you here.

You exhaled shakily. Your limbs felt heavy. Your soul felt heavier.

You retrieved your dagger from the soldier’s ribcage and wiped both clean on the cloth of his pants. Bayard watched from the start of the bridge as you slowly trudged back to him. He pressed his nose against your body, sensing your sadness. You only managed a slight pat on his neck. His hooves against stone and the crackling of the great fire followed you back down the mountains.

-

These woods were supposed to be quiet. It was late at night - the moon was high in the sky, and crickets were singing their sad songs. The next village wasn’t for several miles yet. Not only that, you knew there were no individual huts or shelters nearby.

So why did you hear music?

Your first thought was bandits. It wouldn’t be unusual for them to camp out in the woods, waiting for unsuspecting travelers to jump. But, if it was bandits, why would they draw attention to themselves by playing an instrument and singing? It was a lute, or something stringed, by the sound of it. The carefully plucked notes hid a tentative voice. A bard, perhaps?

Then came the second round of questions. Why would a bard compose his music in the woods? Surely, he would prefer the luxuries of an inn or even a brothel, should he desire company.

You couldn’t imagine this being a camp of the men you were after. The village never mentioned any inclinations towards music, nevermind that they ran away several days ago. They would not linger this close to the town they were running from for so long. No, this was something else entirely.

Curiosity took its hold as you slipped off Bayard’s back and led him off of the dirt road into the trees, opposite of the bard’s music. Satisfied he was hidden enough from anyone traveling late at night, you crossed the path and made your way through the underbrush. Only the wind and stars knew of your presence.

Leaves and twigs whispered your whereabouts as you stepped upon them, or as they snagged onto the fabric of your riding cloak. It seemed to blend in to the breeze that rustled the trees. This, after all, is what you had been trained for.

The orange glow of a fire guided you like a beacon through the dark forest. As you creeped ever closer, you were surprised to find the bard from the banquet, alone. He sat propped up against a log, lute cradled in his lap as he seemed to speak to himself. Wasn’t Geralt supposed to be traveling with him? Surely the Wolf hadn’t abandoned him out in the wilderness.

You tensed, your whole body becoming rigid as cold steel touched your neck. As slow as you could manage, you turned in your crouched position to see who your attacker was, hand farthest from them coming to rest on the blade at your hip where they would not see. A tall, hulking brute of a man stood over you, white hair glowing in the moonlight. His eyes were hidden by the shadows of night.  Your face was hidden by your hood; all he could make out was from the tip of your nose down. Two strangers ready to strike at any moment.

Quickly, you pushed his sword away with the back of your hand against the flat edge of the blade and stood, gathering a safe distance. Distantly, the singing stopped.

You each stood there for a brief moment, assessing and waiting for the other to make a move. Your dagger glinted in the firelight as you flipped it around in your hand. He stepped forward and swiped at you with his sword. You easily deflected the hit, using the momentum to guide it along your dagger and away from your body. He recovered too quickly for you to attack within the opening, and struck again.

It was a dance amongst the brambles. You deflected or dodged his every swing, and he shut down every opportunity you could find to attack him. It felt oddly familiar. Everything about the man’s fighting style was reminiscent of the fight you had months ago, within palace walls and along polished floors.

You were briefly distracted by the thought. He swung his blade in a motion that would easily cut off your head at the shoulders. You backed away just in time for it to avoid your neck and catch the skin of your cheek instead. It did not hurt, as adrenaline was pumping through your veins, but you could feel the warm ooze of blood as it slipped down your face.

He seemed… relieved to have cut you, as though you could have been a mere figment of his imagination. The fact you could be hurt only grounded you into reality. You used the opportunity to lunge forward and slice at his belly in a wide arc. Your blade was mere inches from his body, stopped only by the shout that pierced the haze of battle.

“Geralt!”

It was not the fact someone shouted that kept you from reaching out those few more inches - pleas for mercy often fell upon deaf ears. It was the name.

The arc of your attack stopped short as you rapidly backed away. The man you were fighting stood still and tense as he studied your actions. The bard stood just before the underbrush, blocking the firelight as he looked back and forth in horror.

You squinted into the dark; it was almost too thick for your enhanced senses to peer through. Sure enough, as the man turned his head toward the bard (perhaps to tell him to back away and stop being an idiot), the orange light of the flames caught his yellow irises.

Your dagger lowered as realization set in. “Wolf?”

He stopped and stared. You lowered your hood with one hand, revealing your face to his enhanced vision. The bard couldn’t make out any features.

“... Viper?” His sword fell uselessly to his side.

You huffed as you sheathed your weapon and stepped closer to punch him in the shoulder. As you stepped into the light, the bard recognized your eyes and the face they belonged to. You effectively saved his life that night; he wouldn’t dare forget your complexion for the great kindness you did for him.

“You son of a bilge rat!” you cursed, pulling him back to the present. “You should know better than to sneak up on people like that!”

He huffed a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

-

You rummaged through Bayard’s saddlebags for herbs. He snorted and playfully reached back to nose at your shoulder. You couldn’t fight back the smile as you shoved him away. All the while, Geralt tended to the campfire and the bard talked his ear off.

“This is the Witcher that protected me that night!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice he thought you would not be able to hear. He went on in dramatic fashion. “It’s just as I said: a table, carried by the powerful winds of love, came hurtling toward us! In a flash, they covered me just as it slammed into the wall, shooting splinters in all directions!”

“I was only repaying the favor,” you added on as you joined them by the fire. The bard seemed startled at your input. You expected him to flinch as you leveled your yellow eyes on him. But just as he had months ago, he wasn’t afraid, merely fascinated. “It was you who protected me first after I slammed into the wall and had the air stolen from my lungs. It can’t have been easy to remove all that glass from your hair.”

Geralt looked to the bard, a hint of a smirk on his lips. The bard flushed and nodded his head to the side. “Yeah, well… The selflessness of a hero.”

Geralt scoffed. ‘Selfless’ was not a word that could be used to describe his traveling companion in a thousand years.

You picked apart the herbs you retrieved - celandine and white myrtle petals - and dropped them together into a mortar. The soft grinding sound filled the air. “I don’t think I ever caught your name, bard.”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies!” He stood and bowed deeply, still holding his lute in one hand. “I am Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, but you may call me Jaskier.” When he rose, Jaskier’s face was split in a brilliant smile.

He sat back down, waiting for you to introduce yourself. Geralt couldn’t help noticing the way your face fell, your eyes distant and unseeing, before you focused back on your herbs. After a moment, you cleared your throat.

“Viper,” you answered. You forced a strained smile at the bard. “You may call me Viper.”

Before Jaskier could ask questions (having missed your constrained emotions), Geralt changed the subject. “Where are you headed?”

Your body relaxed into the new topic. They watched as you set the mortar on the log next to you and drew a blade. The reflective surface, although not perfectly clear, helped you to see where the cut on your face was. With one hand holding the dagger by your face like a mirror, the other scooped up some of the makeshift salve and brushed it overtop the inflamed skin.

“I picked up a few contracts.”

“Monsters?” came Jaskier’s voice, hopeful.

The White Wolf stayed silent.

You shook your head and stood to return your new ointment to your saddlebags. You pulled two flyers from the pouch and held them out for the other Witcher to take. “Deserters,” you explained. “They ran away a few days ago; were headed out this way. Seen them?”

Jaskier leaned over, pressing against Geralt’s side, as they looked over the ink faces.

WANTED

50 CROWNS

DEAD OR ALIVE

“No,” the Witcher grunted.

You sighed and took the papers back. “It’s no matter. If they’re smart, they’ll be heading for Novigrad.”

Jaskier sat up straighter. “How come?”

You stuffed the flyers back into your bag. “Novigrad is the best port to take if one wishes to get to Kovir and Poviss,” you said. You sat back down on the log. “Kovir is bound to strict neutrality; it’s unlikely anyone would search for them once they get there.”

You look at Geralt. He was focused on stoking the fire once again. “Where are you off to, then?”

He hm’d. “Next town over to look for work.”

“Have you ever fought a djinn by any chance?” You and Geralt turned to the bard. He seemed to flounder under the attention. “I just m-mean, uhm, we happened to encounter one recently and I wondered if you’d ever dealt with one before.” Jaskier strategically avoided making eye contact with Geralt, who glared so intensely at the bard he could feel it burning his skull.

“Once, with one of my brothers,” you admitted.

Your eyes darkened at the memory of Oalvir laying on the bridge.

“What happened?” he pressed, fingers resting on the lute’s strings.

You swallowed down the past. “A woman was bringing up water from a well when she found its pitcher. When she realized what it was, she wished for it to grant her freedom from her husband. From what we gathered, he was a right bastard. Nobody liked him.

“It twisted her words. That night, she was hypnotized into killing her husband where he lay. And it forced her to kill her children, so she no longer had any ties to the man. She was distraught with grief at what she’d done. We found her body in the well.

“My brother and I worked to send the genie away before it could latch onto any of the other townsfolk. The only way to get rid of a djinn is to have it grant three wishes. It was a bloody mess when we finished.”

Jaskier’s eyes were wide, mouth agape in awe. He stumbled over his words and himself as he rushed to his own bags to grab his journal and pencil. “Tell me everything. This is- Geralt never tells me details!” You almost laughed at his enthusiasm. “Start at the beginning. How did you get the contract? Where was this?”

“I would love to stay and have a glorious ballad written of my exploits,” you mused as you stood and worked to untie the knot in Bayard’s lead. “Unfortunately, I must be on my way.”

“You’re traveling at night?” Geralt spoke up.

You hummed. Free from the tree he was tied to, he followed as you led him past the campfire and toward the road. “It’s better for my work if I do,” you said. “Most travelers, deserters, bandits, what have you - they travel during the day. Less monsters that way. But at night, they’re stationary. It’s easier to catch up to them this way, and there’s less traffic.” You grinned slightly at the bewildered way they stared at you. Your methods confounded and amazed them.

“Wha- When do you sleep?!”

“When the job is done.” You turned to guide Bayard through the trees, but stopped. You took a hesitant breath and looked to Geralt, watching with attentive eyes from the fire. “Wolf…” Your mouth opened, ready to tell him of everything that happened to the Viper Keep. To warn him that if Gorthur Gvaed could fall, he should be wary of the same thing happening to the Wolves. But no words came out. The wound was still too fresh.

Your face was one of pure concern and seriousness. He couldn’t see the child you were as easily anymore.

“Stay safe out there.”

His brow furrowed, but he asked no questions. He nodded; a silent promise. “You, too.”

Satisfied, you walked with Bayard through the trees and underbrush, back to the dirt road, worn down from decades of travel. Your steed bobbed his head and kicked up the dirt, excited to ride and run once more. You were barely in the saddle before he took off in a gallop.

Back on the road. Back to your contracts, to your job. To your life.

As the last Viper.

---

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@ailesswhumptober day 25: nightmares / flashback / "why didn't you save me?"

[fucked around with the witcher (netflix) story and timeline for this draft of a fic that's probably not going anywhere]

the flaming remains of cintra illuminate the black knight on his horse. the horse whinnies, bucks the man off its back, and morphs into the boarish face of nivellen. "stay with me, ciri. please." his snout and tusks swirl around his face until his nose and ears become humanoid, and his fur is replaced by a head full of quills. "you belong with me." a figure with long, pale yellow hair appears by his side; her slim fingers intertwine with the thick armor on his hands. "you belong with us." cintra keeps burning, and its peoples' screams of anguish become cheers of joy as a new banner is raised over the castle.  

the air is cold, but it has nothing to do with the shivering that causes ciri to wake.

"why didn't you save me?" she whispers.

geralt frowns from across the tiny campfire. "you made it to roach before i dealt with the bruxa."

ciri shakes her head. "you didn't need to protect me from vereena. why didn't you save me before?"

"from cintra?" geralt asks, and receives a small nod in reply. "the king imprisoned me when i invoked the law of surprise. nilfgaard began their attack before i got out; there was nothing i could have done for you." he sighs and leans back against the fallen tree he claimed as a pillow.

geralt sounds apologetic enough, but it doesn't matter. they've been on the run for weeks, and he's barely said a sentence about anything, and even less about why they're running and where they're going. it's condescending and irritating, at the very least, to know her destiny and to know that geralt knows it, but he refused any direct question and keeps trying to distract her with roach when she's been polite. 

"bullshit! you know, you've known, this entire time about my parents and the white flame. you claimed the law of surprise and you knew i would be the surprise. mousesack told me about the wedding, but you still left me in cintra with them."

"i never get involved." geralt doesn't move, but his voice inches towards the warning growls he uses before he shuts down. 

"except for the times when you do," ciri counters, sitting up and glaring at him. "so why didn't you save me from everything, from the start?"

------ ------ -----

who are we to challenge destiny? life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart. honor destiny's wish, or unleash its wrath upon us.

mousesack's words rumble around geralt's head as he watches ciri fight off her nightmares.

destiny helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit when there isn't. upon your insistence, i... i'll claim the tradition as you have, the law of surprise. give me that which you already have but do not know.

ciri's legs twitch as she mutters something about running, and what's left of geralt's heart breaks.

the bond that will come into being between you and this child will be extraordinary. if you dismiss it, you will surely unleash true calamity upon us all.

despite what he told mousesack, geralt had intended on honoring the cintran tradition. he had, until the girl's parents were declared lost at sea and coincidentally, rumors from the south spread like wildfire. whatever doubts geralt had about duny and pavetta, calanthe's strength and dedication to her people was legendary. cirilla would be better of with her and eist, with the armies of cintra and skellige protecting her.

love and blood. they both possess a mighty power.

ciri wakes and asks the one question he cannot answer. questions about yen and jask, about magic and signs, about prophecies and species and the continent and its history - those questions have answers that he's not always ready to give, or ones that he doesn't have the knowledge or permission to give. this one is different; there is no book to consult, or anyone else with a relevant opinion on the matter.

why didn't you save me?

[starfrckled-a]

@treppenwitzz​  (    ishtar    )   sent  :  ❝   your body is rot waiting to happen .   ❞    /     inbox clean up .

𝙽𝙾𝚃  𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚂  𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻  𝙲𝚁𝚈  𝙵𝙾𝚁  𝙷𝙸𝙼 ,  when  fate’s  blade  gets  shoved  between  his  ribs .  they  will  stand  witness ,  their  shimmer  unthouched  and  unchallenged ,  and  he  has  long  since  stopped  resenting  them  for  it  ——  what  could  he  possibly  matter  to  celestial  bodies  ?    child  of  two  words  /  child  of  neither  of  them .  yet  the  words  coming  out  of  the  sorceress’  mouth  sting ,  regardless .  they  feel  too  heavy ,  like  they  might  hit  too  close  to  the  heart ,  to  an  inner  core  lloer  has  always  tried  his  best  to  guard  closely .  they  spell  his  doom  out  for  him ,  mock  him  with  his  life’s  clock  ticking  away .  he  might  have  dismissed  her  words ,  if  his  mind  was  not  already  stretched  thin ,  thoughts  bleeding  onto  one  another  and  memories  —  happy  ones,  void  of  pain  —  eaten  by  rot .  he  has  lost  the  only  place  that  ever  felt  like  home  and  the  self  inflicted  wound  is  still  raw ,  still  gushing  out  blood .  her  words  feel  like  fingers  digging  in .  what  have  you  done  ?    you  have  doomed  yourself ,  lloerwedd .  now  you  get  to  see  your  funeral  pyre  being  lit . ❛  it  matters  not .  ❜    words  sound  sharper  than  usual ,  voice  comes  out  through  gritted  teeth .  a  testament  to  the  control  slipping  from  his  grasp ,  piece  by  piece .  half  elf  is  full  of  warnings ,  of  thorns  screaming  don’t  come  closer .  now  they  might  even  pierce  the  skin ,  if  he  is  not  careful  enough .    ❛  perhaps  choosing  where  to  die  is  all  i  have  left .  ❜    what  goes  unsaid  is  :  i  will  not  die  here ,  in  a  world  that  has  nothing  but  frost  for  me .  

[rhinedottir-yennefer]

Oh, that ask thingy I was so happy I got tagged in and never got to fill in!

You thought. Well guess what! Today imma gonna fill in the ask questions I got from @advena87 (thank you again for challenging me!) But since I’m a book reader - and I also think my follows and followers should be more encouraged to post book stuff - I’m gonna try and fill in as book content-y as I can. Here we go!  Skellige Isles or the continent?

I love the continent, especially Lyria, Rivia & Dol Blathana, but this is definitely gonna be Skellige for me. I love how raw and unbiased people are over there. They also provide equal rights to women. Which I think is far more developed than one would think when it comes to the Skellige Isles.  

Velen or Toussaint?

This is going to be Toussaint for me. Not because of the visionairy (which is, btw, flawless in TW3-B&W) but because in the books we spend a good chunk of the story there, and we really get to know how society and the monarch works. 

Novigrad or Beauclair?

I would definitely say “the centre of the world” Novigrad. The “free city” Novigrad. It’s so lively there, everyone finds the business they need. But I also like the dark side of it. The beggars, the sewers, the crying Eternal Fire zealots. 

Sleeping at Corvo Bianco or meditating under a tree?

This is gonna be meditating & sleeping under a tree, simply because there’s no “Corvo Bianco” in the books. I really loved that ending, for me though Geralt stayed on the path. 

Inns or Brothels?

Inns have such nicer ahmosphere. I love the candlelit chandeliers, the cheap beer, the people giving you various looks. Music! Geralt always has a nice meal whenever he goes to an inn.  I wish that for him. 

Caves or Ruins?

There’s not much caves in the books, ruins however, plenty. Ruins. 

High or low difficulty?

I guess noone prepared me for the emotional trauma that was the battle at Stygga, so high?

Going back to old save: yay or nay?

I have a bookmark.

Mods: yay or nay?

Sadly I can’t apply any filters to books, but the good thing is I don’t have to! I have imagination to help me. 

Mini-map or no mini-map?

I did actually use a map of the continent while I was reading. I marked the route each of the main characters took. 

Roach or Fast travel?

Roach, because she’s the best friend to Geralt when there’s no Jaskier/Dandelion(/Kökörcsin) around.

Roads or Boats?

There was always something bad going on when Geralt got on a boat, so... Roads. 

Specters or Relicts?

Ooh, I love an old type leshen. And godlings. And dopplers. And czorts. Definitely a relict girl here! o/

Beasts or Hybrids?

I would say hybrids. Especially sirens and succubi. 

Necrophages or Vampires?

Vampires all the way! You didn’t think I would forget about our best boy Regis, ya? (B&W vampires are awesome too, Orianna is an all-time favourite of mine)

Orgroids or Elementa?

Since there’s not much ogroid in the books, I would definitely go with the elementa, because of djinns & genies.  

Draconids or Cursed Ones?

Draconids! At least we get quite a few in the books! The cursed ones Geralt meet in the saga he doesn’t kill, rather turn them back to normal. 

The Caretaker or the Crones?

I loved the Crones! Chilling & ruthless, but very well written characters. And their boss theme is absolute bop. 

Botchlings or spotted Wights?

Spotted wights, I guess. 

Godlings or Trolls?

Godlings are kind of adorable. 

Sirens or Harpies?

Sirens, please and thank you. 

Killing or sparing?

Depends on the situation. With Vilgefortz? Kill any day. Renfri? Protect at all costs. 

Dijkstra or Roche?

As much as I love Vernon Roche, I must aknowledge the fact he’s not a book character so Dijkstra all the way. 

Vesemir or Crach an Craite?

I really loved Crach even in the books, from a young chap (at Pavetta’s 15th birthday) to someone who even woo’d Yen xD I think the Witcher 3 gave him a worthy-mighty route to embrace. Shame he had to go so early. 

Eskel or Lambert?

I was always more fond of Eskel’s quiet and composed manner. He’s like a true brother to Geralt. 

Keira or Philippa?

Philippa all the way. I just really love characters involved in intrigues by choice, and when it comes to the Lady Owl, she’s like the absolute queen. 

Cerys or Hjalmar?

Ok so, this is difficult, because Cerys was not in the books, unlike Hjalmar. But I really liked what they did with them in TW3 and how they did it, and I don’t even feel like they’ve overwritten the canon or anything. I always felt like Cerys’ calm composed manner and playing on the safe side attitude would ensure Skellige would survive. Even if they’re not going down in history as great invaders or warriors.  

Syanna or Anarietta?

Since Syanna was not in the books, but even if she was, I wouldn’t like her, I have to go with Annarietta who’s been the brattiest, sassiest and most spoiled young princess in the books. But that didn’t stop me from liking her.  Yen or Triss?

Yennefer is the queen of this story. I get where the game Triss likers are coming from, but since I’m here to spread book awesomeness, where she’s been the absolute worst (and not even a proper love interest to Geralt [even Fringilla was a longer relationship to him!]) this wasn’t a hard choice at all. Yennefer is the best for Geralt.  

Ciri or Geralt?

I’ve always been genuinely more immersed in Geralt’s side of the story, talking strictly about books, than Ciri’s.  

Regis or Dettlaff?

Regis. Never gonna com a time when I don’t pick Regis. 

Olgierd von Everec or Gaunter O’Dimm?

Olgierd, I guess. I can definitely see someone like him in the books. 

Olgierd von Everec or Iris von Everec?

Iris deserved better.

Shani or Dandelion?

Ok so, there’s no witcher without Dandelion/Jaskier/Kökörcsin, and I absolutely love this bloody Casanova, but, strictly speaking in book context, Shani doesn’t get the recognition she deserves. She’s really complex and been through a lot. Our bard has too, true, but he’s more like the comic relief of the saga. 

Johnny or Sarah?

Sarah!

Sorceresses or Witchers?

Sorceresses. I guess. Life is much more easier if you’re a sorceress. 

Druids or the local holy man?

Druids all the way! Especially those of Skellige! My king Mousesack . I love him. 

Food or Swallow?

Swallow. Not gonna use it though, but this one’s closer to the book canon. 

Decoctions or Potions?

Potions is on the canon side. 

Hunting for diagrams or finding them per chance?

Finding them by chance, I guess. Book Geralt has no time to hunt diagrams amidst all this canon shitstorm xD

Saving coin or spending coin?

Saving.

Looting or buying?

I guess looting is more on the canon side here. 

Upsetting the guards or following the rules?

Never upset the guards. 

Igni or Axii?

Axii!

Yrden or Aard?

Yrden!

Signs or blade oils?

Signs!

Crossbow or fists?

Crossbow is more book canon I guess.  

Settling down or staying on the path?

Book Geralt doesn’t like staying put, so staying on the path.

Gwent Cards or Swords?

Gwent cards. 

Beard or no beard?

No beard. It’s canon.  “Puss Peepers” or “Mutant”?

I have never in my book reading journey read Puss Peepers. Mutant, however... Hey! Thank you very much again for the callout, @advena87 and I hope everyone who actually read through that abominatin enjoyed my answers. And that they weren’t too book-posh. If yes, I’d say I’m sorry, but really I’m not. K BYE

[astrid-sama]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<< Good times lot of mousesack >>

<<I missed your colorful cynicism, I was afraid of a boring evening but with you two here all is not lost >> sack of mouse then turned to me << Y / N because you and Gerald are dressed like sad traders of silk? >> instead of answering I turn to look at Jaskier and from the expression on his face I guess he understood why we are here.

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

<< I have been a councilor at the Court of Skellige for years, a land with difficult borders but with a tender heart, like me >>

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

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

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

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

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

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

<< Skilled with blades and skilled with women >>

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

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

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

Jaskier nods and the man apologizes before leaving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Calanthe said as she touched her corset-tight stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

<<I will not waste any more breath, we are not here as a personal guard >> Gerald said taking a sip of beer.

<<You have been hired by the bard >>

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

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

<< Neither I nor Gerald will help you >>

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

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

<< I could torment you and force you to obey >>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[havenoffandoms]

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it! 

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?” 

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road. 

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level. 

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber. 

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick. 

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months. 

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.” 

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer. 

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens. 

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden. 

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.” 

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…” 

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off. 

“You mean that?” 

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.” 

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again.  Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent. 

Lambert can live with that, he thinks. 

Request a prompt.

[echo-bleu]

Part 2 of this ask.

5 is the as yet untitled mute!Jaskier AU. Jaskier never got his voice back after the djinn. It mostly follows the show, but really focuses on the gaps and his relationship with various characters (Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, also some OCs). It's currently 14k.

🎮 Does the story or characters have a life of their own? Or any you still in control?

I'm not writing it linearly at all, because I have the luxury of the show canon to fall back on, at least for a good part of it, so I do still have control in that sense, I know where everything slots in. That said, Jaskier certainly made a number of decisions I wasn't expecting, like becoming Ciri's tutor before she even meets Geralt, so it ends up changing a bunch of things.

👀 Can you give us any sneak peaks?

Well, speaking of Jaskier and Ciri, their goodbyes when Jaskier gets kicked out of Cintra for reasons.

(for clarity purposes: Jaskier uses sign language and taught Ciri to sign. His sign language is world-specific and not any of our world’s sign languages)

“It’s not fair,” Ciri repeats, this time in signs, snot running down from her nose. She sniffles. “I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay too, but sometimes things don’t work out that way,” Jaskier answers. He’s not entirely sure Ciri knows why he’s going away. She’s smart enough to figure out that it has to do with the song she sang, probably, but he doesn’t know what Calanthe and Mousesack told her, and she doesn’t have the necessary context to understand the issue. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget you. I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too,” Ciri says tearfully.

“Maybe I’ll come back someday,” Jaskier signs. Someday. If Ciri makes it to adulthood, if she learns the truth, if the coming war doesn’t take everything away from both of them. If she even remembers him, by then. It’s not a strong promise, and it’s not one he truly believes in. Still, he did his part, and he can hope that he gave Ciri some of the tools she’ll need to survive. “Don’t forget the things I taught you.”

“Words have power, monsters aren’t always the ones who look monstrous, don’t believe all the stories and look for those without a voice,” Ciri signs carefully. “And never trust a song written in Mi Major.”

Jaskier laughs. It’s not a bad summary of his teachings, but she certainly has a specific interpretation of it. “Exactly,” he tells her. “You’ll be a wonderful queen someday, Ciri of Cintra.” He exaggerates her name sign – Lion Cub – to make it look larger, more like an adult lion.

She cries harder, but she smiles through her tears.

“Princess, we have to go,” Mousesack presses her.

Ciri glances at him, then looks back at Jaskier and hugs him again. “Thank you,” she signs when she lets go, saying it out loud at the same time.

“It was an honor,” Jaskier signs back. “Farewell, Ciri.”

He waits until they’re gone to close the door and collapse against it, tears of his own streaming down his face. He’s really going to miss her. The ache is already settling in his chest, a second knot beside the one reserved for Geralt, and he wonders how there’s still room for his heart to keep beating.

On the way back to Oxenfurt, he almost stumbles upon the Nilfgaardian army at the Amell Pass. The knot turns into fear.

But there’s nothing he can do except pray.

Thank you for all the questions!

From this WIP game

[jaskiersvalley]

Your safari au. Please. I need it. Water my crops with tigers and hyenas and witchers. Grabby hands and pleading faces in abundance here.

You are after my heart, Nonnie. And considering I've only talked about the Safari AU on Novigrad, I will happily assume you're lurking on there and I love you for it. Tweaked a little to add in a hyena just for you.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

Taking over a park was no easy feat, especially not when it came with a reputation like Nilfgaard had. Eskel scratched his head as he poured over the various financial reports, wondering just how much of it could be trusted. The problem was Nilfgaard had been a shining beacon in the animal conservation world, exceptional facilities, high enrichment for the animals and a successful rehabilitation rate. If there was ever an animal in need of a place, Nilfgaard had been first choice for years. All that came tumbling down in light of the revelation that Nilfgaard had been trading illegally, their animals sold to private owners as exotic pets or, even worse, hunters who wanted a guaranteed, easy kill. The place had been shut down immediately, a skeleton crew kept on to tend to the animals but nothing more. Management was on trial and Kaer Morhen had won the bid to take over. Though small and mostly unknown, nobody else had wanted to touch the remnants of Nilfgaard so they were quite uncontested in their bid. What had seemed like a good idea at the time, an noble because it was in the interest of the animals, now was an absolute headache.

Between the three of them, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert could split most of the urgent work. They had Jaskier working on rebranding, Yennefer managing the board and Vesemir as the head. It left them free to run the day to day of the park, learning the animals as well as the people who they had kept on. But they were going to need more people to actually help the place flourish and regain its standing in the community. Which meant asking the heads of departments for who should be kept on and what roles to recruit for from scratch. The easy ones were things like hospitality, Zoltan had a firm grip on the needs of the park and its visitors, knew all the catering firms and how to run a tight ship. So it was one less headache for them. Eredin had stepped up as Head of Security readily once it was proven he had no knowledge of the animal smuggling. Again, his familiarity with the park was a boon, as were his connections, putting together a security team that could be trusted. Much more messy was the animal welfare section. Fringilla, much like Eredin, had stepped up to become interim Head Zookeeper and was doing her best. While they were understaffed, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert helped out where they could but much of their time was spent getting to know the routine of the park and its many animals.

"We need to know who we can trust," Lambert grumbled, leaning over the table where they had personnel files open. "It's impossible to know who was in on things and who wasn't."

Though, in all likelihood, none of the lower level workers knew that when they helped usher one of their beloved animals into a crate, they weren't sending them off to another facility or a happily ever after. But it was something they just couldn't risk.

"May I?" Fringilla asked, eyes roving over all the files. At Geralt's gesture, she began pulling some of them out. "You'll want Triss, she was a vet here, promote her to senior or chief or whatever you call it. She's solid. And Sabrina, she's great, works well with Triss. Retain Istredd, Mousesack, Calanthe and Eist too. oh, and Letho for the reptile house." As she spoke, she kept looking with a small frown.

"Missing someone?" Eskel asked. Nodding, Fringilla frowned. Without much care for manners, she walked to the cupboards and began pulling out files until she hit the folder of resignations and terminations. From there, she pulled out one last file.

"You'll want him."

The folder was taken from her and the three peered at it with varying levels of frowns.

"You want us to hire someone who was terminated for gross misconduct? Whose notes suggest he abused animals and has blacklisted from working with animals?"

"No. I want you to meet the whistle-blower. Cahir's the one who found out about the trafficking and reported it. Nilfgaard didn't take kindly to it and retaliated."

Not sold on the idea, Lambert crossed his arms over his chest. "His file doesn't look exceptional. Personally, if he applied for a job, I'm not sure he shines enough to even be called in for an interview."

It was a sentiment echoed by the other two and Fringilla had to fight to hold back a sneer. "Invite him in and judge for yourselves. Just because his record doesn't have a quantifiable or gradable measure of commitment doesn't mean he won't be fantastic. If we ever have a new animal in that doesn't need to stay hospitalised, I wouldn't want anyone but Cahir to help settle it in. Especially the younger ones and babies."

Against their better judgement, the three decided to follow Fringilla's advice and e-mailed Cahir an interview offer. The reply was terse but assured them that he would be there at the agreed time.

First impressions were, to put gently, not great. Cahir looked rumpled, bags under his eyes and his attitude was rather sullen. It didn't bode well as they sat in the office, Cahir an odd mix of defiant and subservient. At least Fringilla had the grace to push the interview forward as much as she could until even she sighed and leaned back.

"Why don't we walk through some of the enclosures? Make sure you still remember what's where."

As they walked, Eskel ended up next to Cahir, who seemed content to not talk. That didn't stop Eskel from trying to initiate conversation.

"So, what have you been doing in the three months since you left here?"

"Tried to survive."

The blunt answer had Eskel blinking, there were many things he expected but not that. "Oh?"

For the first time Cahir actually looked at him, sadness bleeding through his half glare. "I used to live on site, worked for Nilfgaard from the age of 15, took a full time post at 18 and moved into the small cottage in the southern corner of the land. They fired me, I lost everything."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Eskel tried to figure out just how much of Cahir's so story was an exaggeration. "Have you been living with friends then?"

"For a few weeks, yeah." Cahir actually scoffed. "I've been trying to get a job and living in a hostel off savings. Turns out, only having in-house qualifications does not bode well for prospects in the world at large."

Fringilla led them into an enclosure where the grass was high. From the looks and smells, Eskel would have guessed it was a tiger's habitat but he wasn't familiar enough with the park yet to know. He would have hesitated going in, especially in a group like they were but Eskel had to trust Fringilla as she came to a stop and they stood in a loose circle.

The house Cahir had mentioned was one Eskel was familiar with. They had often wondered why it was empty yet well kept. It had felt like a life interrupted when they had a look round, nothing personal there yet it didn't have the empty, unlived-in feel of a show home. In a way, Eskel was regretting just how poorly Cahir's interview was going because he could easily see them offering his house back as part of a contract.

"So why are we here?" Lambert's words broke Eskel's reverie. "I thought we wanted to go on a walk."

It was by pure chance that Eskel caught Fringilla's smirk at Cahir and the slightest softening of that stern expression in return. Clicking his tongue, Cahir shot Lambert a look. "Tell me, have you ever been stalked by a tiger before?"

"No."

"You sure about that?" Cahir clicked his tongue twice and the world burst into motion. From the long grass a tiger pounced and Eskel was not ashamed to admit he let out a surprised yell. He wasn't the only one though, Lambert gasping, hand at his mouth and shoulders up as the tiger took Cahir out. They went tumbling and only Geralt looked like he might lurch into action, taking half a step towards the animal and Cahir. It would have been hopeless though, the two were wrestling on the ground until Cahir was on his back, tiger hunched above him.

The first thing Eskel noticed was how Cahir's face was creased into a happy grin. He looked younger, relaxed and happy ever as the tiger licked a large stripe from jaw, up his chin to his hairline. All Cahir did was laugh.

"Yes, yes, I missed you too, Princess," he said. fingers loosened from the fur in the tiger's neck and petted along her nose with the ease of familiarity.

"What the actual fuck?!" Lambert all but screeched. "What the fuckity fucking fuck?"

Eskel had the sense to look to Fringilla for answers, even if he wanted to watch Cahir with the tiger. The change in the man wasn't something he could have predicted. Gone was the sullen, defensive and standoffish air, replaced by an easy smile and a look of serene happiness as Cahir looked at the tiger, checking her over out of habit, muttering about dirty ears and mucky paws as he went.

"That is what you won't ever learn from a CV and qualifications," Fringilla said. She was absolutely looking smug. "Princess came to us at 9 months old, from a circus. Had terrible separation anxiety and a host of other issues too. She wasn't doing well despite our best efforts. At least, not until Cahir took her home and cared for her during the nights rather than leave her in a hospital cage. He introduced her to independence, slept out in the open with her for a few weeks when she was ready to transition to outdoors." Much more quietly, she added, "She's not the only animal he'd done that for. To find out some of his beloved children have been sold hit him hard. I don't think I'd ever seen him cry before then."

Turning back, Eskel watched as Cahir was sat on the ground, tiger with her back to him. The slightly strained "oh no you don't" from Cahir was lost as the tiger pushed up onto her hind legs and flopped backwards. Had she been smaller, Cahir would have probably caught her like a baby. As it was, he grunted as the weight crashed across his legs and he had a happily chuffing tiger's belly to tickle.

"I assume you'd vouch for him?" Geralt asked.

"In a heartbeat." Fringilla grinned at Cahir but it was lost on him, so focused on Princess as he was. The others might as well have stopped existing. That was the moment Eskel knew his heart was in danger. It didn't get easier as time went on. Hiring Cahir was proving to be a good decision. He just got on with the work, never finding anything distasteful or below him to do. If it needed doing, he got it done.

Over time he opened up too, Eskel found himself wandering down to the southern corner of the park to the little house that was now full of life. He got used to Cahir usually having a baby or two in his care. Sometimes he babysat for Letho's hatchlings, content to have baby snakes trying to look around his arms as they learned how to cope with being handled. The friendship between the two was one Eskel couldn't claim to understand but they seemed to make it work.

"Knock knock," he announced himself by the open back door.

"Come on in," Cahir called as he wandered out of the kitchen. "I'm just finishing making dinner, care to join me?"

That was new too, Cahir was inviting Eskel into his life more and more. It made Eskel feel even better about what he was planning to ask at Fringilla's instructions.

"I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow. There's a new arrival that we think will need your assistance."

Cahir cocked an eyebrow and held up an empty plate in question again. At Eskel's nod he began loading. "Anything you can tell me about it?"

"Not much. Private collector got raided, had a few animals in his less than tender care."

"So they'll be part socialised, part traumatised. I can work with that."

Somehow, Eskel had no doubts about that. But he was holding back some information because Fringilla had told him to keep it a surprise. The next morning the transport van rolled in, a small group of them ready to handle the newest arrivals. There were a couple of pythons for Letho to bring into his fold, a parrot for Guxart to train into swearing. Last was a large crate. As interesting as it was, Eskel's eyes were on Cahir, the way his nostrils flared as he caught scent of the hyena. The box opened and the animal cautiously peered out.

"Dave!" Cahir exclaimed, all semblance of quiet professionalism gone as he hopped off the top of the crate he'd helped open.

If his reaction had been exuberant, it was nothing compared to the hyena's. They collided next to the box, all over each other.

"I missed you buddy." There were tears running down Cahir's cheeks as Dave alternated between butting into him and running tight, excited circles around him before settling down and trying to bodily press into him. Glancing up, Cahir gave Fringilla a wobbly smile. "How did you find her?"

Her? Last Eskel checked, Dave was a male name. Still, he wasn't going to interrupt the tender reunion with such a dumb question.

"She was part of a collector's hoard. Didn't have the right permits so he was made to give her up to those who could offer her proper care."

A broken "thank you" was whispered in her direction before Cahir buried his face in the hyena's neck. Eskel watched with so many questions. Thankfully Fringilla didn't miss that fact.

"She was born in captivity, originally assumed to be a boy, needed to be hand reared after mum rejected her. She never understood that she wasn't human and as a result has spent most of her life living with Cahir. We've tried so often to introduce her to a pack but she never took to them, content to stay with them for a day, two at a push before she starts pining. When Nilfgaard sold her, that's when Cahir got suspicious, did some digging and realised she hadn't gone to another park. So Dave is a catalyst for this whole fiasco if you will."

Watching them, Eskel nodded. He had a hyena to befriend if he wanted to keep Cahir in his life it would seem.

[bookcalanthedaily]

                           MAKE YOUR OWN DESTINY - 8/???

Soon, the disagreement turned into a quarrel. Men screaming over each other, and Ciri could feel the force in the air growing. By the way Geralt was looking around she knew, he could feel it, too. If she remembered well the story, someone would stab her father but not kill him, and then her mother would... She bit her lower lip. She had little time, and she had to act fast. Suddenly the bells for midnight rang... It wasn’t time yet, Ciri thought. Too soon. Then why..?

“It is midnight, Urcheon. Your vow has ran short.” Calanthe said, leaning back in her chair. “Be so kind and remove your helmet, so that we can speak freely, and so that I can look in the eyes of the one who so adamantly demands I give up my only daughter.” And he did. He took his helmet of, revealing his ughly hedgehog head. Gasps, shouts and murmurs arose in the chair. But by the fact the Queen’s expression didn’t change at all, Ciri guessed that she knew. That she planned it... Smart, she thought, smiling to herself. Of course it was smart... Her grandmother, after all was... She used to think her the wisest woman in the world. Perhaps she still thought that.

“Aha! You see, Pavetta, who - or rather what -  is standing in front of you, claiming you for himself. In accordance with the Law of Surprise and eternal custom, the decision is yours. “ The Queen spoke, turning to her daughter, who sat in the chair as if frozen in time, petrified. If she let that happen... If Pavetta said yes, there was nothing more she could do. So she finally, finally gathered the courage, slamming her hands into the table as she stood up, bringing everyone’s eyes towards her.

“Your Majesty. May I interject?” She asked, wanting to sound confident, and the Queen let out a sigh. She’s always hated being interrupted. “Everybody else is, not always with my permission. So go ahead girl, what is it you want to say?” Ciri remembered the conversation between her grandfather and Uncle Mousesack that she overheard accidentally... “If he loves your daughter, truly loves, as he claims... Make him swear it.” The Queen laughed coldly. “He is no knight. He only poses as one. Do you think the word of some... Clank from nowhere means anything to me? That I believe he has any honour at all, helping a dying man only when promised a reward? I am not interested in his vows. And will not place my daughter’s fate upon them.”

“Of course, but...” Ciri spoke up once more. “We have an esteemed druid amongst us, here in this room. There is a spell that surely could make him tell the truth, without the need for honour, or vows. And if he refuses, then the answer is clear as day. If he truly loves the Princess, he has nothing to fear.” That gave Calanthe a pause, and she turned towards Mousesack, this time. “Druid. Can you do that?” “Yes, but...” She rose her hand, cutting him off. “I am not interested in your buts. Only if this is within your reach.” “Yes, it is, your Majesty.” That was enough for the Lioness.

“What do you say, Urcheon? Swear, under the druid’s spell, that you love my daughter, truly and deeply. And I promise, you will not only marry her. You two will live here, in my palace, as princess and prince.” Ciri could swear she saw Pavetta relax just a little bit. It wasn’t that bad, after all. Duny would profess his love, like in so many romantic books, and mother would surely understand that he loved her, that she loved him... And then mother would see his real face, and know that he is not the monster she thought him to be! Sadly, what Ciri also saw, was the man taking a step back, glaring at her with hatred... And she knew it wouldn’t be a beautiful fairytale like her mother thought it would be.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 10- Before A Fall

Summary: With your heart torn from the troublesome events on the mountain, your mind in swirling with mixed emotions for your Witcher and the violet eyed witch you’re bound to. Now where will you choose to go as a war begins brewing on the horizon?

Warning: some angst, more reader backstory​

Masterlist

You had let yourself wallow in your sadness and anger for some time now upon another far off peak of the mountains. You couldn't look back, you couldn't even bare to turn around and fly yourself into the arms of Geralt after what he had done.

It hurt.

But you couldn't forgive so easily as you'd like to, he had made a promise almost fifty years ago to never let magic manipulate your lives in anyway. To never use dark powers against you, no spells, no enchantments, no sorcerers, nothing that could alter your reality or bend your will. Nothing to bind your very vessel to in any way, shape, or form.

He promised.

He knew your hate for how magic can ruin and destroy with simple words and rash actions. But alas, Geralt made his wish and now it can never be broken. Although you had to admit, the intended sentiment was heartfelt after all. His wish was to keep you bound to Yennefer for as long as you two are alive, his intentions were so that you'd never feel alone when he's gone and dead.

Considering you'll most likely outlive him, unless someone was to slice you open with silver and set your corpse on fire, or better yet. Get yourself mauled to death by a goddamn werewolf, what a way to go, either option not really settling well with you. But perhaps you'd never given it much thought, what would you do after Geralt left this world? You couldn't say, nor did you care to think about it, nor did you want to think about it.

But now, you're forever linked to Yennefer until the end of her days or maybe yours. You could almost laugh, how clever of destiny to bind your cares and concerns with a mage, and forever at that. She's half elf and you're a dhampir, neither of you are aging much anytime soon or even at all for that matter. You may have kept your time in Aretuza and your old friendship with Yennefer a thing of the past, but now you must accept your fate.

Maybe this is destiny?

Hate should not seep its inky talons into your soul, nor should lasting anger burn like dragon fire in your heart. You did once have a good friendship with the lavender eyed sorceress for many years, but your paths had gone separate ways when she was called to court and the mages of Aretuza began to drive you mad with their constant bickering and pettiness with one another.

Your time in the great academy transpired into a violent end when one bold admirer had attempted to charm you with his admittedly strong love potion, you had left those halls half naked and covered in his blood once you'd found the strength to break through the spell. Not one mage had dared make an effort to stop you, they understood their fellow enchanters deathly mistake and for that they let you leave without so much as a word.

You felt disgusted for letting yourself get sweet talked and manipulated by his charming aurora and false heartfelt words. You didn't even notice when he handed you a sweet smelling mystery liquid, it tasted fine going down and within seconds did you feel lust take over your body for the alluring man. But another part of you didn't want how you felt, it wasn't right, it didn't feel right. But he looked so good, and you wanted him, but did you?

In the end you had snapped out of it as half your clothing was littering the floor, he was smiling a triumphant grin from beneath your clothed legs as your fuzzy mind cleared, your heart fuming with rage as he kept oblivious to your realization. A second later did you enjoy hearing his screams of agony as you sunk your sharp pearly white fangs deep into his naked jugular, it all happened so fast. He scratched at your body as you pinned him down and ripped open his stomach, making certain to crush his prized jewels as your last final act of revenge, leaving him bruised and bleeding out upon his bed when you fled the room.

He had taken nothing but your pride. Yet he payed for it with his life.

You could hear his ragged final breaths as you flew down the enchanted hallways of Aretuza, collecting your belongings and fleeing the giant castle before you took it upon yourself to end anymore despicable lives residing in that academy.

You didn't bother telling Tissaia, she would figure it out eventually.

And as for Yennefer, she was living as a mage in luxury.

But as you stand upon this rocky ledge it all seems like a bad dream, perhaps it was just all constructed in a past life? Feels like it, but alas, it is far behind you and Yennefer was gone from the academy when it all happened. It was not her fault, you truly have no right to hate her.

So you won't. Is this still destiny?

Taking a deep breath you slowly let all your troubles and resentments out and into the dusty breeze as you stand high upon the jagged shelf of the mountainside. It's been three days since the taxing events after the dragon hunt, when all truths had been revealed and you had left Geralt in your rage. You'll find him again without a doubt in your mind, when the time is right and your infuriation has subsided. Then you will seek him out and make amends, but for now, as you brood into the sunset you can't help but feel torn to go and speak with Yennefer, you must.

Something just doesn't feel right in the air, you're pinning it on the grand mass of marching Nilfgaardian soldiers you had spotted to the west only yesterday. A great enemy of Cintra, and an impending threat to the innocent lives of nearby villagers. You close your eyes as a soft breeze caresses your face, you've made up your mind, it's time to find your old friend.

No more anger.

-meanwhile in the underkeeps of Cintra-

Geralt leans against a stone wall, listening for the footsteps of Mousesack, doing his best to keep you out of his thoughts for the time being so he can focus on the task at hand. He may not have you in his mind at the moment, but his heart has not stopped feeling dreary with heavy regret and anguish for how you had left him so suddenly.

It's been a week, still too long, he thinks.

He truly did not mean to upset you so, but when he made that wish, his mind was only concerned with keeping you happy for the next thousand years when he rots in the earth and your body flows with life. Though now he feels quite foolish for such a burdensome wish upon yourself, binding a part of your soul to Yennefer and hers with your own. So no matter wherever you two will travel, a strange call to one another will always remain in the back of your minds.

Like a shadow.

Geralt's ears prick with the sounds of rushed footfalls against the stony ground as the mage quickly approaches him from down the long shadowy hallway, "Out of nowhere, you send word to meet you. All this time, I thought you were dead." Exclaims Mousesack as Geralt turns to face him from around the corner.

"I told you last time I was in Cintra that I wasn't coming back."

Mousesack eyes him suspiciously, "Yet here you are." The Witcher hums in reply as Mousesack asks for an answer to Geralt's random appearance, a telling smirk upon his face as he walks closer, "You've come for your Child of Surprise, haven't you?"

"The opposite. I want you to tell me that he's safe and healthy so I can keep on riding."

Geralt turns from Mousesack and begins walking down the hallway as the mage smiles, "He....is a girl." Geralt abruptly turns around at the surprising news, "Princess Cirilla has been raised by Calanthe since her parents died."

"What?" Whispers Geralt, shocked by the news.

"Pavetta and Duny's ship was lost at sea. Have you been hiding your head in the sand?" The greying mage pauses for a moment, brow furrowing, "Why now? Why do you think she's not safe?"

"I saw an army making camp at the Amell Pass. A sea of black and gold." Replies Geralt.

Mousesack nods, "Nilfgaard is set on sweeping the Continent. But since that night at Pavetta's banquet, the Queen's done everything she can to keep her family safe from threats. Shut the walls. Fortified the gates." A shadow flashes against the walls as rushed footsteps befall upon the ground, grabbing Geralt's attention as he leans in closer to the mage, eyes dark.

"Sent assassins!" He growls.

"What?"

"Were you followed?"

"No." Answers Mousesack honestly.

Geralt sneers at the grey bearded man before turning and walking towards the sound of the hidden killers, Mousesack's brow furrows in confusion, "Why don't you just have your lady dhampir Y/N slay them for you and avoid such a wasteful chase? She can't be far now can she, never one to linger from your side for very long."

Geralt halts in his tracks, his mind reeling before he turns an eye to the wondering mage, "She was summoned back to her homeland. Something important, she couldn't say....so I didn't ask. I'm on my own." His voice is gravely as he lies, shifting his attention back to the opening entrance of another hallway to continue his hunt for the assassins. Mousesack left speculating if this tale has any truth to it or not, wisely deciding not to press the subject any further.

——

It hadn't been very difficult to find her, all you had to do was concentrate and let the magic given unto you by the djinn lead yourself into the direction of Yennefer like a compass. When you let it work, it seemed a rather simple task to begin your hunt for the notorious mage.

It took about a week or so to find her, you had decided to travel like a civilized person and ride to her whereabouts on the back of a silver steed. Your horse bringing you to a huge excavation site where a part of the Nilfgaard army is currently stationed, directing their workers and no doubt captured slaves to dig and scrape away at the rocky hillside for whatever the fuck type of obsidian looking rock. You could honestly care less for their troubles, the problems of these people of little concern to you.

After riding down a dirt covered road and past the tired faces of burnt-out workers you stopped by a wooden cart, tying your horse next to another. You finish the knot and step into the road, catching the scent of your friend who's aroma is still fresh, she's close, her trail leading into a nearby makeshift tavern.

"Where are you coming from, my lady?"

You stop in your tracks as a dirty faced Nilfgaardian soldier keeps you from your search, handing him a fake smile you catch his light brown eyes, "Nowhere too interesting I'm afraid."

He nods, thinking hard for a moment, his heartbeat picking up with nervousness, "W-well, if you're here to seek aid from a mage, the, uh...tavern is that way. Good day then." He stumbles quickly in reply, no doubt unnerved by your scarlet eyes and friendly sharp grin.

What a man he is.

And just like that he's gone, smiling contently with yourself and this odd bit of luck, you make for the titular gathering house with cheap ale or perhaps the tavern as it's called. Once you reach about ten feet from the opened wooden door do you stop, the familiar voices of Yennefer and Istredd, her first lover from Aretuza, fill your ears as they speak about their past dealings and Yenn's thirst for power over most things, including their relationship.

More things are said before he stands up to leave, but before he's able to catch you in his sights do you turn around and narrowly miss being found out, he'd definitely remember you. Istredd trudges past, oblivious as you listen to the whispered voice of a new man joining Yennefer at her table. He claims himself to be Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, another mage, of fucking course.

Folding your arms in annoyance you walk over to lean your back against the side of the tavern and listen as he tells Yennefer how Nilfgaard is seeking out mages for their conquests, quietly noting that they should return to Aretuza before any soldiers start asking for their assistance. She sounds doubtful until he lets known that Tissaia and himself need her nonetheless, apparently shits important, who would have thought. You can't help but roll your eyes as Vilgefortz practically sweet talks her, explaining that Tissaia said that Yennefer is the best student she's ever taught.

And that's it, Yennefer's sold.

You could never ignore getting yourself buttered up, huh Yenn.

The friendly mage abruptly stands up, telling Yennefer to meet him in half an hour by the north gate before he says his goodbyes and exits through the opened door, right past you. You watch in curiosity as he walks off before turning yourself towards the entrance and stepping into the doorway, you look down to your right. Making quick eye contact with Yennefer's violet irises, she immediately frowns as you sit across from her, though she is quite taken aback at your random intrusion.

A smirk plays at your lips, "Well aren't you just having the time of your life. Quite popular today aren't we now?"

Yennefer rolls her eyes in annoyance, "What the fuck are you doing here?" She says dryly, you lean back in your chair as a fangy grin breaks out upon your face.

"I could ask you the same thing but....I'm not an idiot. You came back to rekindle that old flame with Istredd, how sweet, honestly. Who would've thought."

"Oh fuck off Y/N."

A light chuckle escapes you, "Don't be so dramatic Yenn, I didn't leave Geralt's ass and travel all this way for nothing...."

"You left him?" She wonders, her brows furrowing, honestly quite surprised.

A telling sigh falls from your lips, "For the time being, I'm still pissed over the whole djinn and his last wish. So here I am, sitting in a shit tavern with an old acquaintance, also...I wanted to make sure you don't hate me. Believe it or not, I do care about you Yennefer, and that's not the magic speaking. So with that in mind, I've witnessed what Nilfgaard has been doing lately and it doesn't look good." You shrug, "Guess I wanted to make sure you where fine."

She glances down at her hands before finding your scarlet eyes, "I can't tell if that's the Aretuza Y/N, or the magic talking." Her voice almost playful.

"Maybe it's both? But can I not give a shit for once about anyone other than myself? I mean look around us." You glance at the tired out workers and Nilfgaardian soldiers before leaning in closer to Yennefer, "Things are changing, soon these valleys will be covered in blood, people fighting for survival, the land ablaze and destroyed from war. I've lived enough lifetimes to have seen it happen over and over again."

She nods slowly, taking in what you're saying, "Yes, so it seems. But last I'd remembered, you've never really cared much for the troubles of other kingdoms. Even your own for that matter."

"I don't." Your reply blunt and to the point, "But this is Nilfgaard, and though I could care less about the reasoning behind their conquests. I know who they seek to bring their wrath upon."

"Cintra." She whispers.

"Yes." You pause for a moment as three soldiers clad in black armor walk past your table and towards the bar, your wary eyes trail them before turning your attention back to Yennefer, "And I'd rather not have innocent lives taken by the hands of filthy soldiers, I could live without smelling blood in the air and the rotting of children's corpses." You let out a breath before leaning in and keeping your voice to that of a whisper, "Geralt's Child of Surprise resides in that kingdom, within the walls of Cintra. I do not care for the little shit in the slightest, but by law this child will be in our care soon enough. Whether I want to meet him or not."

She nods, understanding your concerns for the invading forces of Nilfgaard, "That's quite the predicament Y/N."

"Yes." You lean back once again, folding your arms as you tilt your head to the side, "Almost as intriguing as your own one." You add with a smirk.

"What did you hear?"

"The mage, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen seems to have caught you in his sights. And how interesting, it appears our old friend Tissaia is in need of you after all these long years." You study her face, her lavender eyes downcast as she thinks, "You're going aren't you?"

"I need answers Y/N." Her eyes are on yours once again, "It doesn't make much sense I'll admit, but it's been a long while and I have nothing keeping me here anyways." She confesses honestly, you tap the hilt of your dagger, thinking hard.

"Do as you wish, I will not stop you. Have fun with those self entitled idiots." You sneer, she simply smiles at your usual disgust for the mages of Aretuza. You stare at her, your face falling as you shake your head.

"Yennefer don't."

She leans herself closer to you, her eyes almost pleading, you haven't heard the words but just looking at her can you tell exactly what she's about to ask, "Y/N. Against my better judgment...I'm asking, I guess....would you join me. Please?"

Pursing your lips together you stare at the table before finding her gaze once more, every ounce of your entire vessel screaming for you to say no, though you can't help but feel drawn to follow, "God I hate magic." You mutter, shaking your head.

"You were the one who came to find me after all, remember? Make sure I'm fine and not dead." She muses with a mischievous spark in her eye.

"Well aren't you lucky that I have no solid plans for the next week but brood in the woods and think of all by problems." You deadpan before an apprehensive half smile pulls at the corners of your lips, "Why the fuck not? Lets pay Tissaia a visit shall we."

——

After the debacle of mysterious assassins in the underkeeps of the Cintran castle, Mousesack had saved Geralt from a possible demise when he teleported them elsewhere amongst the grounds. Now the Witcher follows him to find Queen Calanthe and hopefully greet this Child of Surprise he's been promised no matter how much he'd rather not be here. How he wishes you where by his side to lighten the mood, things would undoubtedly run smoother.

He passes under a stone archway leading into a courtyard where the Queen has her back turned to them, she's speaking to her loyal guardsmen while eyeing up the weaponry before her. She moves down the tabled lined with swords, "I want reports from the Amell Pass every hour.." Her head moves right at the sounds of Geralt and Mousesack approaching, her dark eyes lock with Geralt's golden ones. She looks stoic and loathsome to see him again, even after all these years.

Swords unsheathe behind her, "I warned you about coming back. I've been away 12 years and I planned on staying that way till you sent eight men to kill me."

She takes a couple threatening steps forward, "Well, I'm asking you now. Do not do this."

"If you treated me more as a friend then a threat...Do you know the difference anymore?" He pauses as she says nothing, "I'm here to protect the girl."

"Who I've raised as my own." Counters Calanthe, "Why would I give my only heir to someone who never cared enough to come back to her? Move along, Witcher. I'll pay whatever you want." She turns her back to leave.

"I cannot be bought." She trains her irritated gaze back to Geralt, "You should remember."

"Money can't undo the Law of Surprise." Says Mousesack, "Kings who've tried to outbid destiny end up on pikes."

"And if I win the war but lose Ciri, what victory is that?" Challenges the Queen as Geralt takes a  step forward, her men showing their weapons as they stand ready to guard her.

"Maybe that army won't come, and if they do, maybe you'll be ready. But if you have any doubt in your mind that she's safe here, give her to me. Call it destiny, insecurity, what larger forces at work, I don't care. I will take her, protect her, and bring her back unharmed, I promise you that."

"Ciri is all I have left of my daughter." Whispers the Queen, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"If Ciri survives, then Pavetta lives on too." Geralt leaves it at that, remaining silent as Calanthe's mind reels with what to do next. He can tell just how terrified she is to possibly lose Ciri, however she must make a choice. No matter how difficult it is to make.

"Law of Surprise has been called!" Announces the Queen to her guardsmen and subjects in the snow covered courtyard, voice more softer and solemn now as she faces Geralt, "I'll tell Cirilla myself."

With that said, Geralt was escorted to a separate section of the castle as he awaits the meeting between himself and princess Cirilla. He paces back and forth down the hallway for a good long while until a guard was sent for him. Now here he is, walking towards the door where the Child of Surprise awaits him with her Queen grandmother. Two armored men simultaneously open the large wooden door, Geralt walks into the cavernous room where Mousesack looks up at him while the doors close. They do not say a word to each other.

Calanthe sits, consoling a frightened Ciri who's back is turned to Geralt, she holds the girls hands, "I need you to be brave now, because who are you?"

"The Lion Cub of Cintra." Replies the blonde girl, voice small and fragile.

She then stands, turning around to finally face him. He walks further into the room, golden eyes studying the face of princess Cirilla. She is short and thin, eyes wide and fearful, face pale as a flushed nervousness pulls to the surface, "Pleased to meet you, Princess." Greets the Witcher.

She speaks not once to him, she then abruptly turns to face the Queen by her side, "Can I say goodbye to my friends now?"

"Of course." Nods Calanthe as Cirilla leaves with haste out the side door. Geralt remains quiet as she glares at him, "I'll summon you when she's ready."

Geralt exits through the same doors he came through, he walks down the hallway, pausing a moment as he thinks on the brief interaction. Something just doesn't sit right with him about that girl, she just didn't look how he'd imagined her to be. She can't be Pavetta's child, can she? He shakes off those thoughts and decides to wander down a long torch lit hallway leading out into an opened yard where people are wandering about.

Suddenly the princess runs into view, she races over to a gathering of market kids playing some kind of game, one boy jumps up and immediate pulls her into a hug. "Take care." He whispers as the princess releases him to face a young teen with a cap on their head. She then gifts a small bow, "Your Highness." Before turning around and racing off the same way she came in.

Now Geralt knows the truth.

He leaves the doorway in search of the lying Queen, it takes not long before he's found her walking past some large windows with her ladies by her side. "First, you try and kill me, then you lie to me. I'm just trying to keep Cirilla safe."

"Ciri is safe, with me, until the day she takes over my throne." Queen Calanthe takes a couple steps forward but is halted by Geralt who stands his ground in front of her.

"Listen to me." He advises, voice low and gravely.

"I did listen once." Says Calanthe unbothered, "Let a hedgehog into my court. It got me Pavetta dead. I won't lose Ciri too. So you and destiny can both fuck right off. Because if Nilfgaard comes, will destiny carry a banner into battle? No. We have an army, a navy...and me." Speaks the Queen slyly, starting to walk around Geralt who halts her with a hand to her arm.

"A dynasty can't survive on arrogance alone."

"Says a Witcher. She needs family. You no nothing about that. Your own mother cared so little, she discarded you." Smartly speaks the Queen, "Where is your vampiric lover, hm? She's not even here, gone to see her actual family so I've been told." Calanthe swaggers past Geralt who feels a pang of heartache in his chest for that low blow.

"You lecture me on a mother's love yet you offer up someone else's daughter."

Calanthe stops, "Queen to all of Cintra, grandmother to one." She looks at him over her shoulder, "I won't orphan that girl."

Geralt watches as she begins walking down the hallway towards another opened door, "You're sentencing her to death."

"What I miss?" Asks the intrigued face of Lord Eick.

"Nothing." Replies the Queen as she keeps walking, "Get him out of my sight."

-

Sir Eick walks down a small flight of stone steps with Geralt by his side, they follow a brick path leading down from the castle doors now behind them. Two guards stand at their posts to either side of the wooden entrance as the two men walk across the layed bricks. "I remember when you honored the Law of Surprise. What changed?"

"I had a granddaughter."

"So protect her. What if Calanthe's wrong? What if they come and Ciri is trapped?"

"I fight side by side with my Queen."

"You put too much faith in that woman."

Lord Eick stops walking to look at Geralt, "Well, you weren't there. After Pavetta died, Calanthe would wake up howling in the night. The Lioness, nearly broken. Someone who's able to pull themselves out of that, they'll have my confidence till my final day."

Geralt says not a word, he knows this Lord cannot be reasoned with so instead does the Witcher walk under a small keep, he stops when Lord Eick calls to him, "I need your promise you won't come back."

Geralt slowly turns around to face him, "If I hear Ciri's in danger, you know I can't do that." A second later does two iron cage slates fall into place, locking Geralt into his new little prison.

"I know." Replies the man, giving him one last glance before returning back to the main castle.

Now Geralt really wishes you where here with him.

——

With the aid of Yennefer's ever convenient ability to create portals going from one realm to the next, you, Vilgefortz, and herself made it into the enchanted halls of Aretuza in no time. Though to Yennefer's utter disappointment and your own unsurprised one. It turned out that Tissaia didn't actually ask for Yennefer after all, in fact she doesn't even know that you're both here.

In a fit of anger did Yennefer turn away in search of Tissaia before finding herself down one of the many hallways in this ginormous academy. "I can't fucking believe this. Of course this is how they get me here, I should have known."

"Too bad you can't see into the future, that could have saved us some time."

"Very funny, Y/N." Mutters Yennefer.

"Now come on, you're certainly not the only one between the two of us who'd rather not be here at all." She raises a brow at that.

"You didn't have to join me."

"No, but maybe my curiosity had taken the better of me, and anyways, this place does not hold all terrible memories for me to begin with. This was my home for some time even before you showed up, I did like it here once."

"Well you weren't bought and taken from your family one day without a choice, forced to live here as the lowest of the low. Ridiculed, spoken down upon, lied to."

"No I wasn't, that was saved for you and your magical sisters." She furrows her brows as you chuckle.

"You find humor in our misery?"

"I don't. I find your temperament about the ordeal a tad humorous yes."

"And why is that?"

"Because you had what you needed here to become someone great, and you've survived well by yourself, becoming a powerful mage at that." You add as her frown dissipates, "I remember the first time we met, granted you were unconscious and bleeding on the floor, but after that. When we actually met. I knew you were special then, as I know you are now."

"And how would you know that?"

You playfully bump into her shoulder, "I am a wise and very old woman, I know my looks are deceiving, however I can see through people better then most. I understand them, I can just tell."

"And how could you tell with me?"

"For one, your eyes are purple which is already a huge giveaway. Secondly, you had a prominent physical deformity paired with a rare talent for portal making. I could practically smell your elven blood coursing through those veins before I knew what you looked like. It wasn't hard to tell you were going to be someone."

She stops walking  in the middle of the long hallway, a conflicted expression flashing across her features, "You really thought all that?"

"I always did. I always knew when certain mages would ascend, if I figured you weren't going to make it. I would have told you." Your eyes dart from the ground then back up to her again, "Maybe, and I say just maybe, I've always had a little soft spot for you. Contrary to what you may believe, there is someone who is proud of you...and that's still not the djinn's wish talking. I mean it."

Yennefer breaks out into a small smile, "You're such a sap."

"I can be when I want to." You state half defensibly, "I'm not all just a pretty face and two scary looking eyes."

"Clearly."

Your head turns to the sounds of giggling coming from one of the novice mage's sleeping quarters, "I think your old room is occupied. Hm, I can't say I really care much to meet them. I'm going to see if my old room is still covered in cobwebs or not, see you around."

She gives you a nod, "I'll let you know when I find Tissaia."

Leaving Yennefer to most likely scare the young mages, you begin wandering around the stony pathways until you reach your old room. Stopping at the door, you can hear the sounds of a thudding heartbeat, someone has made themselves a place here. You smile and walk elsewhere, glad that someone could find a nice room to call their own since your absence so long ago.

Finding your way near the room of ascension where many a mage has been turned into an eel to further fuel the place with magic. You can hear the stern voice of Tissaia and the whispering of the novice girls, soon the sounds of their rushed footsteps are heard racing up the steps towards the entranceway. You stand a short distance from the doorway, watching in curiosity as the three young mages meet your gaze while they file out of the hallway.

The pale one with reddish blonde hair halts abruptly in her tracks as her two friends do the same, blue eyes wide in nervous bewilderment at your figure in the room. Your clothing a vast contrast to their usual dark blue uniform, a dagger sheathed at your side, and eyes the color of shimmering rubies staring back at them. They smell of herbs, salt, and magic; heartbeats quickening the longer they stay frozen looking at you.

You gift them a fangy grin and a small bow of your head in greeting, "Are my two acquaintances down there?" You already know the answer, just something said to break their trance.

The one with the healed burns scarred on the side of her face swallows before speaking, "They are. Good day miss." She bows her head respectfully before leading her two friends down the hallway as quickly as they can without running. Apparently you still have that affect on young witches and wizards no matter how long you've been gone from here.

Knowing that the infamous mage had not seen you yet, you decide to keep hidden round the corner to elicit a childish plan that will be worth the trouble getting here. When her footsteps grew louder as she made haste up the steps does a telling smirk come to your lips. Once her red dress caught your eye did you pop out of the shadows, instantly frightening her in your mischievousness. She drew back against the closest wall. Her blue eyes wide as she stared at you in shock, Yennefer appearing in the doorway entrance piecing together what just took place.

Tissaia's heart thuds rapidly in her chest as you take a step forward, eyeing her like a wolf to its prey, "I never wanted to come back here, but just listening to the sweet rush of blood coursing through your veins has made this trip that much better."

Touching her chest she pulls herself from the wall as Yennefer's face breaks in amusement, "Y/N." Replies the heiress bluntly, not an ounce of emotion lacing her words. You simply smirk, tilting your head up as you study her stoic face, those are quite the cheek bones she has.

You feel a brush of air as Yennefer steps closer, "Believe me it wasn't our intention to come back here, most of all mine."

Her eyes of judgment turn to Yennefer, "Then you failed at that, too."

"Look at this place. It's a joke." Scoffs Yennefer.

You laugh, "Letting in girls that can't even do magic, I couldn't smell it all of them...And I already thought this place was pathetic enough. It's really gone down the gutter since I left."

Tissaia remains unfazed, "Sometimes, you have to compromise in order to survive."

"You say I never took responsibility for the way my life turned out. What about you?" Challenges Yennefer, her question left unanswered as multiple mages of all kinds begin walking from one opened doorway to the next, Tissaia abruptly turning around to look as you and Yennefer watch on in confusion.

The fuck?

"It's happening." Whispers Tissaia knowingly before quickly joining the assembly into the desired room, you both have no time to ask what is truly going on before Triss walks into view. Her shimmery peach colored dress flowing as she walks by.

"Triss!" Calls out Yennefer, the familiar mage halts her footing as she turns towards the two of you, a surprised expression crossing her features.

"Yennefer. I tried finding you for years. And Y/N, wow, this is quit a surprise."

"Why are you all here?" You wonder, getting straight to the point.

Her brows furrow in worry, "An emergency conclave of the Northern Mages. Nilfgaard took Marnadal."

"What?" Whispers Yennefer in disbelief.

Triss looks to you sadly, "They're attacking Cintra." Your heart practically catches in your throat, you hadn't expected the Nilfgaardian army to lay siege so soon. It has only been a couple weeks since last you've seen Geralt but your innermost feelings can sense that he's gone to the city to claim that damned Child of Surprise. You had talked about it before the dragon hunt and before you'd made plans to visit the ocean, now it appears like a far off memory when soldiers weren't marching across the land and things were fine.

That idiot better be alive.

Triss quickly departs to join the gathering mages, you can feel Yennefer's conflict within herself to either join them or abandon her duty. She turns to you, her face deep in thought, "Yenn just go. I'll be out here when all is over and done, I can't stand the smell of some of them, it's absolutely appalling."

"Alright then. I'll meet you by the east wing balcony when it's over."

She quickly turns and disappears behind the grand wooden doors, you stop for a moment in the large empty hallway before making your way to the balcony where you can get some fresh air away from all those mages and wizards, their enchanted auroras is almost suffocating at times.

You stand brooding in the light of the half moon as it sits contently from her place high up in the sky. It's been about thirty minutes since you'd left Yennefer to fend for herself among the liars, murders, and tricksters claiming themselves as noble mages of the court.

But you will not let your hate consume you, there are good hiding within their numbers and that may just be enough to keep you from slaughtering every single one of them if given the chance. Gods you have such mixed feelings for this place it's starting to give you a headache.

Drifting away from your more sinister and heavily conflicting thoughts, your ears prick up to the sound of approaching footsteps, Yennefer's no doubt. Leaning yourself against the stone wall, your face turned towards the shimmering ocean, she walks up to your side. Resting her hands atop the stony balcony as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips when she turns her head to you, "You're probably right."

"About what?"

"Coming here, to Aretuza. I should have told everyone to fuck off and then left for a more peaceful part of the Continent."

You chuckle, "You'd get bored, eventually."

An amused huff of air escapes from her nostrils, a small smile upon her tired face, "I hate you sometimes."

"Yeah." You sigh, "Me too."

She side eyes you for a moment, her sights set over the glistening waves, "Well, you're going to really laugh when you hear this."

You raise a brow, "Alright jester, tell me a joke."

"It would appear that Vilgefortz and Tissaia are going with a secret band of mages to fight against the forces of Nilfgaard." She freely lets slip, you turn your head to her when she quickly catches your intrigued gaze.

"Now that. Is hilarious, what are they going to do? Hmm? Create illusions of naked women in hopes that the soldiers will become distracted enough that they can, oh I don't know. Conjure an army of scarecrows to fight for them." You jest with a small chuckle, "These mages are not warriors, most of them have never even welded anything hard besides a kings fucking cock. They don't use fire magic and they find destructive sorcery to be something worth banishing and deeply frowned upon. Again, not much for fighters."

She slowly nods, "I know. That's why I'm asking, would you join us?"

"I have no reason to help them."

"Y/N." She pleads, "Think of what Nilfgaard has already done and what they will do. You even told me that you did, in fact, give a shit because of your tie with Cintra."

"Cintra's fucked."

"What about the Child of Surprise? Geralt even? You told me he's probably there right now. Do you not care for his safety?" Presses Yennefer much to your great annoyance, she's got you there.

"Of course I care that his heart is still beating, he's a fucking Witcher, he'll be fine." You pause for a moment, your crimson eyes glowing like two glistening rubies in the moonlight, "Queen Calanthe has brought this hellfire upon herself and the whole Continent due to her pride and arrogance. Cintra can and will fall in fire and blood, I've seen it all before and I'll watch it happen again."

Yennefer shakes her head, "Sometimes I forget that you're four-hundred something years old, but Y/N listen. I understand that you don't care much for royalty and the conflicts of kingdoms. But the Brotherhood must prevail..."

"That's Tissaia speaking. Why do you actually give enough of a shit to fight?" You challenge.

She looks out upon the vast ocean, a light salty breeze brushing past her face, "What else do I have in this world?" She whispers, her voice almost on the verge of breaking.

You suddenly feel a bit terrible, her words hanging over you heavily, "You want to save your only real home? Dare I ask why, but I don't need to, I already know the answer."

"Tissaia and you have been my only family, this place may be full of shit and lies, but it is a place for people like me who need guidance. And I'd rather not have it fall into the wrong hands, or be reduced to crumbling rocks and ash. Enough death was caused by it's construction already."

You rest your forearms against the smooth stone of the balcony, a huff leaving your lips, "When do we leave then?" Yennefer snaps her full attention over to your casual aurora, wholeheartedly surprised that you've decided to join her.

"Uh, tomorrow, at dawn. We'll travel for a day before boats take us across a bit of ocean. From the shore we'll walk by foot to the Elven keep at Sodden's Hill. Before Nilfgaard can claim it."

This is not how you'd intended to visit the sea shore.

"Right. That would be most unfortunate, well, can't wait to tear the throats out of some Nilfgaardian soldiers. I bet they taste divine." You add slyly, a tinge of playfulness surrounding your words.

"Thought blood wasn't part of your diet?" Retorts Yennefer, nudging your shoulder in a friendly manner.

"I can consume both food and blood to survive, you already know this, I just so happen to eat normal meals because it terrifies people if I were to just suck the life out of a beggar at the table. Tavern goers are not very fond of that behavior if you needed to know."

"Of course." She chuckles, "Well, if we're lucky Nilfgaard will ignore the pass and leave us all be. Though I doubt it will come to that, we're never that blessed."

"No. I guess not. But they will suffer as we have, I'll make sure of it, those unlucky bastards will pay for their kingdom's sins." You say defiantly, "We'll defend Aretuza and this part of the north with our lives...I guess..it's about time I should do something good in the world."

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[bard-llama]

Fic Updates: Hard Reset and Heavy Be The Head

Hard Reset Chapter 11 Post-Prologue

Fic Summary:

At the Slaughter of Cintra, Ciri lost everything she'd ever had. Because she'd had no choice, she picked herself up from the ashes and started to build herself a new family with her Destiny. But when the world steals her new family away too? What is she supposed to do?

The answer, unexpectedly, is 'wake up in Cintra half a year before the Slaughter ever took place'. Problem is, she has no idea how this happened or if it's even real.

Chapter Summary:

At Princess Cirilla's request, Mousesack goes looking for Geralt, to personally bring him back to Cintra.

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Heavy Be The Head Chapter 2

Fic Summary:

“Nilfgaard wants to quell all unrest in their lands, so they’re not going to prosecute any war criminals. Which means they’re fair game.”

Roche blinked at him. “Iorveth,” he said slowly, “you do realize that technically we are both war criminals?”

Iorveth just shrugged. “‘Least we haven’t gotten rich off of other people’s suffering.”

That was true. At least he and Iorveth had fought for a cause, even if what they did was monstrous. People driven by pure greed disgusted Roche, and he knew there was no shortage of greedy predators preying on those devastated by the war.

“Are you… inviting me to go murder assholes with you?” Roche asked in disbelief.

Iorveth tilted his head, shrugging again. “Essentially.”

Chapter Summary:

Roche rules Temeria now and he fucking hates it. Fortunately, an old enemy offers him a means of stress relief.

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[starfrckled-a]

@ohkraken​​​  (  ragnheiðr  )  said  :  ❝  it’s okay. we’re together.  ❞    /    percy jackson quotes  :  accepting .

𝙱𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴  𝙸𝚂  𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 ,  as  well  as  his  sense  of  direction .  magic  sizzles  and  cracks ,  trying  and  failing  to  steady  the  course  ——  to  no  avail .  yet ,  even  as  his  grasp  on  it  crumbles ,  the  portal  still  takes  him  near  the  mark ,  magic  too  well  tuned  with  his  mind  to  let  him  be  truly  lost .  there  is  nothing  to  break  his  fall  but  cold ,  wet  sand .  the  force  of  the  impact  sends  ripples  of  pain  through  his  knees  and  crushes  what  little  breath  was  left  in  his  chest .  but  that  is  not  the  reason  his  body  tilts  forward ,  swaying  dangerously  towards  the  ground .  a  voice  calls  to  him  ——  too  distant ,  weak  against  the  echo  of  screams  ringing  through  his  head ,  the  wails  of  both  the  desperate  and  the  wounded .  the  city  has  fallen    /    the  queen  has  died   and  so  have  all  the  stars  in  the  night  sky ,  shrouding  him  in  darkness .

how  many  hours  has  it  been ,  since  he  last  managed  to  send  out  word  to  ragnheiðr ?    mousesack  fails  to  recall ,  but  it  might  indeed  have  left  ground  for  worrying  and  even  more  so  does  his  appearance  :  deep  red  stains  golden  fabric .  there  is  blood  on  his  tunic  and  on  his  hands  as  well ,  stuck  to  the  skin ,  buried  under  his  nails .  it’s  not  his  own .  recognition  hits  him  like  a  tidal  wave  and  he  chokes  on  a  sob .  he  knows  whose  blood  that  is ,  all  too  well .  only  realizes  tears  are  falling  when  he  feels  hands  on  him  ——  first  searching  for  wounds ,  because  he  cannot  speak  yet ,  he  is  shaking  too  badly  to  let  any  reassuring  sound  out  of  his  mouth .  then  on  his  face .  a  soft  touch  is  what  breaks  him ,  in  the  end ,  what  makes  everything  that  was  holding  him  together  tear  at  the  seams ,  stripping  him  of  any  will  to  stay  standing .

❛  couldn’t  ——  ❜    forehead  drops  against  her  shoulder ,  no  strength  left .  head  so  dizzy  he  almost  blacks  out .  exhaustion  gnaws  on  his  conciousness ,  draping  his  limbs  with  a  heavy  curtain .    ❛  couldn’t  save  her .  ❜    eyelids  fall  shut ,  and  for  once  even  the  much  dreaded  cold  of  the  islands  feels  less  sharp .

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

febuwhump day 20 - betrayal

the long awaited sequel to day 1! i’m not very happy with this one but it’s been a long day and life got in the way somewhat. i still wanted to publish this today so here it is but i may change it a bit in the future

geraskier | 1147 words | cw: violence, injury

_______

He will not relax until Jaskier is back in camp. He had tried to convince the bard not to go, but he was helpless to his pleas, his fluttering eyes, and he had stood no chance once Ciri had gotten involved. He sits and sharpens his swords, waiting anxiously for the other mans return. Ciri does not seem to see his unease, thankfully, distracted by the half-formed flower crown lying in her lap. He smiles at the concentration on her face, the way her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she carefully weaves in another daisy and he feels the strange mixture of pride and regret and longing wash over him. He has asked himself many times over the last few months, what would have happen if he had claimed her sooner? If he had not tried to fight destiny for so long? He wonders how she would be different, if she would talk differently, have fewer nightmares, if the spark that is reminiscent of her grandmother would be missing. No, that fire is an integral part of Ciri and he doubts that anything would have stopped it from lighting.

The sound of familiar footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts. It isn’t long before Jaskier’s figure becomes visible through the trees and he is wandering back into camp, bag slung over his shoulder. Geralt had warned him to only pick up the necessities, he hopes the other man hasn’t wasted their coin on some frivolous thing but knowing Jaskier, there is no doubt that he has come back with something he shouldn’t.

Ciri jumps up as soon as she hears him and barrels towards him, asking questions. Jaskier is nodding before coming to sit beside Geralt on the log.

“Run into any trouble?” he asks.

“Not a bit,” Jaskier answers “Except for the one man I saw wearing a doublet that even Valdo Marx wouldn’t be seen dead in.”

The comment makes Ciri giggle and then the poet is off on a ridiculous tirade. Geralt breathes a sigh of relief, he had heard that Nilfgaard were close and it is a comfort to know that they have not yet reached them. As Jaskier talks, Geralt takes a closer look at him as he feels there is something off about him. There is something in his eyes, their usual glint is missing. His medallion has been silent, so he dismisses it. Most likely, the other man is just sad about that being his last visit into civilisation. He had felt bad, insisting on making Jaskier journey to Kaer Morhen with them but it was safer, he wasn’t going to leave him for Nilfgaard to find. He had been asking for Geralt to bring him to the keep for years, so he would get over it, Geralt was sure of it.

He goes back to cleaning his swords, when suddenly Jaskier moves next to him as if he’s reaching for something and then he sees a flash of silver –

“Jaskier, what—” but before he can finish his question there is a knife heading straight for his chest. His hand shoots out and grabs the hand holding the knife – Jaskier’s hand, but Geraalt doesn’t have time to think about that now – before it can plunge into his chest. He twists his hand and pushes Jaskier off of the log but the bard is still clutching the knife, still trying to drive it in. Normally, Jaskier’a arm would be shaking with exertion but now it is still, his grip has not faltered, poised and ready to strike.

He stares into the blue eyes he knows so well, but finds them lacking in anything. They are dark and focused, and his gaze fills Geralt with cold dread. This is not Jaskier. This cannot be Jaskier.

The bards moves quickly, switching the knife to his other hand and Geralt berates himself for getting so distracted. The knife heads for him again, he manages to twist in time, the blade just catching his arm. A viscous smile appears on Jaskier’s face, revelling in his triumph and Geralt is about to use this hesitiation, gets ready to pounce when -

Something swinging in the air towards the back of Jaskiers head, there is a clang and then Jaskier’s eyes are rolling back in his head and he is slumping down to the floor.

Ciri stands over him, breathing heavily, a pan clutched in a white-knuckled grip. She looks up at Geralt with wide eyes, full of fear.

“It was – he was – I can’t – not like Mousesack, not again!” she stutters, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Geralt pushes himself up and pulls her into his arms. He rubs her back as she trembles. She had told him everything that had happened since she fled Cintra, including the fate of his old friend – no doubt reliving it now. Seeing a familiar face suddenly filled with pure anger and only wanting to inflict pain. He hushes her as her tears fall, keeping one eye on the prone figure on the ground. If this is a doppler, then his heart at the thought of what has happened to the real Jaskier and where he has gone. But his medallion had not hummed, so it can’t be a doppler can it?

The alternative is that this is Jaskier, that he must have been enchanted whilst in town. Because it had to be an enchantment. It had to be. But his medallion. It would have reacted to the magic, wouldn’t it? No, it had to be magic. Because the bard had been behaving normally earlier, hadn’t he? Geralt racks his brain for any sign that anything was wrong, anything he should have spotted. He was fine before he left to go to town, and then he came back and tried to kill Geralt. He tried to stab Geralt with a knife. Where the hell had he gotten the knife? Had he been carrying it around for days, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike? How long had he been trapped under the enchantment?

What if, a quiet voice in the back of Geralt’s mind whispers, there isn’t any magic at all.

He knows Jaskier was hurt by the mountain, but he thought they had moved past it. What if he had just been carrying his pain around, faking smiles and laughs, quietly preparing his revenge.  But he wouldn’t do this, no matter how much he was hurting. That isn’t the Jaskier that Geralt knows. But then how well did Geralt ever truly know him? Was he just another one fooled a wink and a smile?  Another victim to the pretty words of the Master Bard, making him think he was special?

No, this is not Jaskier. Something has happened to him, and they will fix it.

But the voice continues to whisper – what if?

[noladyme]

The Princess Frog. Epilogue

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria.  Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

I hope you have enjoyed  reading this, as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future writings.

- no lady

Tag list:

@ayamenimthiriel​

Epilogue - The Queen Frog

It was spring. The flowers in my private garden were budding; and a few were in full bloom – making them ripe for harvest. I walked past the chamomile; inhaling the sweet smell. It made me think of my Tootie. Thrude had passed a year ago – Eist having sent a letter with the information, and his warm condolences. Not long after, Mousesack had visited me. His grief was deep; but he had told me that seeing me still wearing her frog around my neck, brought him much joy.

“Mousesack; was I hurting Thrude, when she healed me as a child? Was she draining herself for me?”, I’d asked. The wizard laughed out loud. “Do you think all she was feeding you was chamomile and honey?”, he guffawed. “My dear; Thrude had years of training as a vöelve before you were even born. She knew how to heal using plants and other medicines; that was what she was using on you”. He took my hand. “She also didn’t have your powers. She was teaching you how to use what you had naturally in you; by using the words, that would help you in the future”.

And I was learning to use them properly. Triss saw to that.

Ylva had got a cut to her arm while in a tussle with a drunkard in a tavern, who had told her women couldn’t be soldiers. She’d insisted she didn’t need treatment; but I couldn’t let my personal guard walk around with cuts and bruises that might fester. So, I was preparing a poultice of celandine and wolfs aloe. Saoirsheen walked up to me, as I was kneeling in one of the flowerbeds.

“Your majesty, he’s here!”, she smiled broadly. Saoirsheen had been with me, as my lady in waiting, ever since Cynnes had passed from old age three years before.

My heart leapt; and I smiled broadly. “Where is he?”, I asked, almost giddily. “He’s shoving grapes into his mouth in your dining room”, she smirked. I quickly wiped my hands in my apron, and took it off; handing it to her. “How long has it been?”, she asked. I frowned. “Not since Foltests and my two year anniversary, I think”, I answered. “There was that midsummer feast the year after that”, she smiled. I scoffed a laugh. “Yes, but he was piss-drunk; and had his face buried in the countess De Stael’s cleavage”, I said. “Right”, Saoirsheen laughed.

I walked into the door of the kitchen; then made my way up the stairs, and down a hallway to my private chambers. Ajvin was standing outside the door to my dining room. “Is it true, my queen?”, he asked; his voice shaking with excitement. “Is it really him? Will you introduce me?”. I smiled and nodded. “I will, Ajvin”, I said. “You will see him at the feast, and I will introduce you to him. Maybe he’ll even let you accompany him in a song”. I winked at the man. “For now, I need to speak to him privately”. Ajvin nodded. “Yes, your majesty”, he said, and stepped aside.

I opened the doors to the room. I never had guards outside my chambers – or inside – except for Ylva. It made me feel uncomfortable to constantly be watched by anyone else.

By the end of the large table – in my own seat, no less – sat a blue eyed; brightly smiling man.

“Jaskier!”, I said. The bard sprang to his feet. He ran over to me; and took my outstretched hand; kissing it. “Princess!”, he smiled. I raised a brow at him. “Queen…”, I smirked. Jaskiers smile broadened into a grin. I put my arms around him for a warm hug.

We went to sit by the table. I gave the bard a light tap over the back of his head, when he went for my chair. He took a seat next to it instead. “Did you eat most of the fruit already?”, I jeered. “I had to”, Jaskier answered. “I was worried you might start throwing it around if I didn’t”. I laughed. “How have you been?”, I asked. “You know…”, he said. “Travelling. Falling in love. Performing. Falling out of love. Almost died from a djinn-attack…”. “That sounds like a story!”, I said. He smiled. “I haven’t written the song yet”, he winked at me. “So, my queen. You have asked me to come here for a certain reason”.

I nodded. “Adda’s 20’th birthday-celebration”, I said. “She was very clear that she wanted the great bard Jaskier to perform. I think she has a crush on you, from when she saw you at that midsummer feast two years ago”. Jaskier’s face lit up. “Really?”, he asked. I frowned at him. “Don’t even think about it bard; or I’ll have Ylva cut of your bollocks and serve them to you on a plate”, I said menacingly. “Besides; she’s still… having troubles controlling herself; after her difficult beginnings as a striga”. Jaskiers face scrunched up. “I’ll make sure not to butter that biscuit, then”, he muttered. I threw a grape at his head. He laughed. “There she is…”, he smirked.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. “He’s here…”, Jaskier suddenly said. I looked at him; my breath hitching. “Here?”, I said. Jaskier nodded. “He owed me a favor from… almost getting me killed”, he answered. “I insisted he travel with me here, as my bodyguard”. I smirked. “Last time you did that; he ended up with a child of surprise”, I said. The bard laughed nervously. “Yes well, I trust you don’t have any pregnant princesses wandering the halls”. I scoffed a laugh. “No pregnancies here”, I said. “We avoid them. Like the plague”.

Jaskier sighed. “He wanted to come”. “He said that?”, I asked, and poured myself a goblet of mead. It was Jaskier’s turn to scoff. “It’s Geralt. Does he ever say anything, unless he has to?”. He used to say many things, I thought to myself.

I took a large sip of my drink. “The feast”, I said. “Tonight. You will perform?”. Jaskier nodded. “Of course. But I thought you already had a court-bard.”. “We do”, I laughed. “But in all honesty; he’s terrible”. Jaskier laughed. “Why keep him?”. I smiled warmly. “He’s a good boy; our Ajvin”, I said. “And he’s managed to spawn 4 children with his wife. He needs the pay”. Jaskier grabbed my hand. “You’re a good queen, your majesty”, he said. “And a kind woman”. I grinned at him. “Maybe; but I still have the mouth of a fucking sailor!”.

We laughed together; when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”, I called. My good friend – the court-enchantress – stepped in. “Triss!”, I smiled. “You’ve arrived! How was Aretuza?”. She smiled. “Filled with the grunts and moanings of old men; as per usual. I’ve come to celebrate the princess. I’m in desperate need of some cheer and good times”. I stepped over to give her a hug. “Well then”, I said. “Let’s have them!”. Triss nodded. “Yes”, she said. “But tomorrow – training!”. I scoffed. “I’ll be hung over…”. The enchantress smirked at me. “All the more reason to train. It’ll wake up your brain”.

I hadn’t used my powers for anything serious since my run in with O’Dimm. There had never been reason to. But they remained there; and I knew I had to control them.

Saoirsheen came into the room then. “Your majesty. I was unsure whether you wanted the velvet or the silk gown tonight”. I frowned. “Hel’s ass; can’t I just wear pants?”, I said. Triss laughed behind me. “Come, bard”, she said. “Our Zaba has preparations to make”.

They went to leave through the door. “Jaskier!”, I called after them. “If you sing that song…”. I looked at him menacingly. He grinned at me. “I’ll take my chances”, he winked; and he and Triss left the room.

---

I was standing in my bedchamber; brushing my hair. He’s here. It was like a jolt through my body, just thinking of Jaskier’s words. I wondered if he’d changed. I knew I had. I was older; though only a few years – but I knew that those years on the throne, had rid me of at least some of the rough edges of my former life.

I’d taken my role as queen seriously. My husband had been respectful, even kind. And he listened to me; and guided me through the complicated politics of court life. I recalled how terrified I’d been; standing in front of the grim man at our wedding. Not a smile had ghosted his face at any point of the ceremony. Just hardness. So I had taken him as being that. Hard. Cold. I’d had so much to learn.

Our wedding had been grand. I’d kept from crying my way through it, by reminding myself of the people that needed me to be here. Jaskier had told his most thrilling stories, and sung his best songs – even on my wedding-day I could not avoid The Foulmouthed Princess of the Skellige Isles. It had made my new husband laugh heartily. The first time I saw him smile.

I remembered that night with him – our wedding night – as we had shared a meal in private; before we were to go to bed.

I was picking at my food; heart in my throat from what was to come. And I remembered Geralts eyes before he turned around, and walked out of my life. “My lady”, my new husband suddenly said. Not my queen or my wife. “It is vital to me, that I make it clear, why you are here”. I gulped. “I am at your disposal; your majesty”, I whispered. “I need a queen at my side; and a mother for my daughter”. Foltest drained his goblet, and looked at me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge for a bedmate; so, I shan’t be bothering you for that”.

I was flabbergasted; sat, mouth agape. The king took my hand in his own two. “You will have a crown; a home; and public displays of my chaste love. And your cousin and his wife will have my armies”. He looked down. “My heart still belongs to my daughters’ mother; however repulsive you might find that. I hope you can live with me on these terms. If not…”.

I sighed, swallowed; and looked up at him, meeting his pained eyes. “And what of friendship, and respect?”, I said. “Friendship?”, Foltest asked.

“I can live with you on your terms. But I cannot be a puppet to be put on display, whenever it suits your majesty. I wish to be heard; and seen as a queen and woman in my own right”.

Foltest stifled a laughter, and narrowed his eyes at me. “I was told you’d be a handful”, he murmured. “I will treat you with whatever respect you earn from me; and I promise never to be unkind. Should this seem to you as friendship, I have nothing against it. I’ll welcome it”.

I smiled and nodded. “Then you have your wife”.

He put a chaste kiss on my hand. “And you have a husband”.

So, I was queen. And it was good, for many people. My cousin. His wife. Those were less important to me.

But then there were people like Saoirsheen; and others like her; who needed a safe haven, that I now had the power to create for them.

Ajvin and Lysa; and their brood of children. The bard sang and performed as best he could – bringing cheer and laughter to the courts hearts, every time he played a false note.

Filivandrel and his people – whom I’d promised to stop Nilgaard from using me for evil.

Ylva and her pack. She’d never gone back; but in stead was now my greatest protector and personal guard. Flaxon had showed up shortly after the wedding with a sour expression on his lips; and I’d informed my husband of his crimes. “Your majesty; you’d belive this woman over me?”, Flaxon said. “You ask me if I believe my wife – the queen – over you?”, Foltest said. “Yes, Flaxon. I do”. He’d been stripped of his rank; and now spent his days in a Maribor cell. The one I had been placed in myself, those years back.

Five years. Five years of learning and growing. Days of boring meetings, where my husband would roll his eyes at me behind the back of his counsellors. Days of working with Triss; and riding the fields and forests outside Vizima, on my stallion – Bayrd. I’d been a mother. Not to a child I had given birth to myself; but to a teenaged girl with a troubled heart and mind. And I’d guided her, best as I could, with the help of Triss. I would tell her fairytales about moonwraiths and witchers, succubi and bards. And I’d stroked her hair when she could not sleep from nightmares. I loved Adda, and she loved me. But she was difficult.

Saoirsheen joined me in my chamber; carrying a purple velvet gown. “Oh gods”, I said. “Not that one!”. Saoirsheen smiled. “The princess insisted”, she smiled. “Mother looks so pretty in that one, she said”. I sighed defeatedly. “Fine”, I said, and took the bundle of fabric from my ladys hands. Saoirsheen went to look for shoes for me. “Would you like to take a bath before the feast?”. “No”, I said. “After. I think I’ll need it to calm my nerves”. The half elf smiled. “He’s in the courtyard”, she said. I looked at her. “Thank you, Saoirsheen”. She set a pair of shoes on the floor in front of the bed, and took her leave.

I walked to the window; and looked down into the courtyard. I found him instantly.

He was talking to one of the stable-hands; with a very serious expression on his face. The man nodded – looking terrified – and took the reins of a red mare from him; leading it into the stable. “Not next to the black stallion!”, I heard the witcher growl after him.

My breath hitched; and – as if he’d heard me – he looked up. His amber eyes found mine; and I parted my lips – having to remind myself to breathe. Looking at me; his expression was warm and strangely sorrowful. His lips twitched into a smile for a second.

It was as if we stood there for hours; just looking at each other. Suddenly, his head turned; and I saw Jaskier walking towards him. The bard patted his shoulder, and said a few words; before looking up and meeting my eyes with a grin. I nodded at them both; and stepped away from the window.

I had to sit on the edge of the bed for a second; to control my shaking hands. Saoirsheen came back into the room. “The king is expecting you, madam”, she said. I nodded; and begun the task of getting dressed.

Purple velvet; draping over my body; like a 10 layer cake. White, frilly lacing across my chest, and at the bottom of the sleeves and skirt. I put on my necklace – the one with the small frog landing between my breasts. Saoirsheen managed to tame my hair into a somewhat regal style; and I went to join my husband, outside my chambers.

Foltest took my hand and kissed it. “You look beautiful, my queen”, he said warmly. “I look like a fucking dessert”, I said. He chuckled; and led me down the stairs to the great hall.

---

Horns blared when we entered the room. “Yes, yes. We’re here now”, I muttered bellow my breath.

Adda was already dancing; sashaying around a young count, who was having great difficulty in keeping up with her energy. I nodded at Triss, who was in deep conversation with a visiting wizard from Ban Ard - looking terribly bored.

Foltest and I went to our thrones – ridiculous things that I hated sitting on – to overlook the festivities. Adda looked at us and waved, with a grin on her face. Jaskier was playing a happy jaunt; and she skipped over to him, twirling around in front of him. He smiled cheekily; before looking at me. I raised a brow at him, and winked, then gestured at Ylva; who was lurking menacingly in a corner. The bard gave a nervous giggle, and returned his focus to his lute.

“We’ll have to get her married off soon”, my husband murmured. I sighed. “Yes, well… you know how I feel about that”. He frowned. “She’ll have the choice of man she wants”, he said. “I just hope she makes the right one”. I squeezed his hand. “We’ll guide her”.

“I received a letter from your cousin today”, Foltest said; taking a sip from his goblet. I’d turned him on to Skelliger mead. “With 10 barrels of your favorite, I’m guessing”, I said. He chuckled. “You know me too well”, Foltest chuckled. “He sends his best, and speaks of his grandchild”. I clenched my jaw. “Anything in particular?”. I had not seen Eist in years; and knew very little about his and Calanthes grandchild – the child of Pavetta. Pavetta herself, had drowned while travelling from Skellige to Cintra; and I knew that it must have broken Calanthes heart; making her overly protective of the child. “Not much. It grows healthily”, Foltest said. “Good”, I said quietly.

I was deep in thought, when suddenly the king sat up straight. “Is that the witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”. I looked up.

The doors had opened; and there stood Geralt – stripped of his weapons, and looking very uncomfortable. My mouth opened; but I couldn’t speak. “I haven’t seen him since he brought you here”, Foltest said. “Five years”, I muttered. “Yes”, my husband agreed. “I owe him a great thanks for his service”, he said smilingly. I tried to match his smile; feeling very short of breath. “Bring him forward”, the king said to his crier. I dug my fingers into the armrest of my throne; convinced that I’d fall of my seat if I didn’t.

“Geralt of Rivia; witcher!”, the crier called out, and an embarrassed looking Geralt stepped forward. He looked at Foltest, and nodded. “Your majesty”, he said. His voice still sent shivers down my spine – dark and brusque, but bellow it, a great warmth. His eyes met mine; and he got on one knee – bowing to me. Geralt doesn’t bow to anyone. He took my hand; and kissed it – the feeling of his lips to my skin an instant reminder, of where else on my body they had been. “My queen”, he muttered. He stood back up, facing Foltest.

“Witcher”, the king said solemnly. “When I saw you last, I did not thank you, for your protection and care of my wife”. Geralt smiled. “The honor was mine”, he said. Foltest laughed. “Come now, witcher!”, he said. “We both know she can be a bloody pain in the ass!”. Geralt laughed; and I bit my cheek to avoid saying something un-queenly. “None the less, my friend”, Foltest said. “I am honored to have you here for this celebration. Just don’t start any fights, or claim any children”, he jeered.

Geralt looked at me somberly. “Am I to understand congratulations are in order?”. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “No”, I said quickly. The first word I had spoken to him in five years. Foltest took my hand. “Alas, the gods have not blessed our union with any children”. He looked at me meaningfully. I smiled. Geralt narrowed his eyes at me.

Foltest drained his goblet. “Well”, he said. “I brought you forward to thank you, and so I will. Thank you, witcher”. He kissed my hand. “Now; I will go dance with my daughter. Sit with my wife; entertain her. She’s been very bored lately; I’ve noticed”. Foltest got up; and went to join Adda.

Geralt sat down in the chair next to me. We were quiet for a while. “A-are you well?”, I stammered. “I am”, he grumbled. We were quiet for a moment longer. “And you?”, he said. “Yes”, I smiled. Geralt looked towards the floor, where my husband was lifting my stepdaughter into the air; and twirling her around – to great applause and cheer from the guests. Jaskier was making a grimace; and trying to nod approvingly at Ajvin; who was playing his best rendition of The Fishmongers Daughter.

Geralts body so close to mine sent waves of warmth through me. “Does he… treat you well?”, the witcher asked. I smiled. “He treats me like a queen”, I answered. Geralt grunted. “With all that entails…”.

I looked at him and laughed. “Are you jealous of my husband, witcher?”. He scoffed. “What? The sweaty sister fucker?”. I frowned softly. “My husband…”, I began. “My marriage… it’s turned out very differently than what I had imagined. In spite of the sister fucking”. I took a large gulp of my mead. “How so?”. Geralt lifted a brow at me.

I sat up straight; trying to look completely at ease with our conversation. It wasn’t like it was his business – but I felt that he should know. “My husbands… carnal desires, aren’t much to speak of”, I smiled meekly. “I haven’t been with a man since…”. I bit my lip. “Your wedding night”, Geralt said. I met his eyes. “Since you…”. Geralt looked stunned. “Oh!... well…Fuck!”, he said. I smiled. “Well, not really”, I said. He chuckled and nodded. “Right…”.

Foltest came back to sit with me; panting. “I am getting to old for this”, he said, out of breath. “Do you dance, witcher?” “I do not”, Geralt chuckled. I smiled. “You don’t dance. You don’t sing”. I raised a brow at him. “Is there anything you do?”. He smirked at me. “Kill monsters and tame frogs”. I laughed. Geralt stood up and nodded his head at us. “I should go fulfill my duties to the bard”, he sneered. Jaskier was being held against a wall by a baron; who’s blushing wife stood by, looking at the scene. Geralt took my hand, and kissed it again. “Your majesty”, he said softly. He narrowed his eyes at me. “That dress looks ridiculous on you”, he whispered. I chuckled in response. The witcher went to help his friend.

“He made you happy”, Foltest muttered. I looked at him in shock. He squeezed my hand and smiled warmly at me. “I might be old, but I’m not blind”. I looked down. “I want you to be happy, wife”, my husband said softly. I sighed. “He did”. Foltest nodded. “We need drinks and music. Bard! Sing that song we talked about”.

Jaskier – having been let lose by the baron – stepped onto the middle of the floor; and began.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared, with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair. She held the heart of many a man; but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”

Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee

The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”

---

I partook in the festivities as long as I could manage; before – with a smile to my husband, and a kiss on my stepdaughter’s cheek – I retired to my chambers. It was good to see him, I thought to myself. He would be gone in the morning.

As she’d promised; Saoirsheen had had the maids prepare a bath for me. I shed myself of the monstrosity Adda called a dress, and was about to step into the tub; when I realized that they’d forgotten to leave towels for me. I didn’t want to call out for help. I hated being waited on; and only accepted Saoirsheens help; because she was more friend than servant. In combination, she and Triss made me feel like I was still in my Tooties warm embrace.

I wrapped myself in a robe; and went to the door, to make my way to the linen closet down the hall. I opened the door; and was met by Geralt. “Saoirsheen said…”, he began. “She said to bring you these”. He handed me two towels – one for my hair, another for my body. I took the towels. “Thank you”, I said, meeting his eyes.

I stepped back for him to enter. He looked around the room. “It’s very different that a tavern”, he said. “Or a wood shack”, I smiled. He grunted a smile back.

I went to lay the towels next to the tub. It was steaming. “I was about to have a bath”, I said. Geralt nodded. “Yes, of course”, he grumbled. “I’ll come back”. He went for the door. “No, please!”, I halted him. “Stay… talk. It’s been so long. The water is to hot anyway”. He smirked. “That’s never been an issue before”, he said. I chuckled. “Five years in a castle and on a throne has made me a weakling, I’m afraid”, I said. “Never”, he muttered.

I looked at him; unsure what to say. “B-but you. You’ve not changed…”, I said. “Never more than what I told you that time”. I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change. He looked at me meaningfully. I swallowed hard.

“There must have been someone else, witcher”, I said. Geralt grunted. “There was… maybe is…”. His expression became tentative. I smiled. “Our lives are different now”, I said. “I always knew… You don’t owe me anything, Geralt. You are allowed to love”. He sighed deeply. “I did love…”, he said; and met my eyes. “As did I”, I answered quietly. He frowned. “And now?”, he asked.

I took his hand, and pressed it to my lips. “You wrote your name on my life”, I said. “As I wrote mine on yours. What we were… are… no one and nothing can change that”. The witcher smiled softly. “What we’ve taken and given”. I nodded. “I can’t say that you will always have a place in my heart; because that would mean that you’d left it”. He grunted, and squeezed my hand.

I sighed. Take it. “There is another place you will always have, though. A place I know you will have to leave”, I said. “But… it will always be here for you when you come back”. He looked at me confusedly. “What do you mean?”, he said. I smiled; and slid my hands behind his neck. “For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind”. I pulled his face to mine, and kissed him.

It had been so long, but the warmth; the passion… it was all there. Geralts hands found my waist; pulled me to him. “Little frog…”, he breathed. “Always”, I whispered. Our kiss became heated – his warm body familiar; yet new. His tongue tasted like a million unspoken words. Words that he had saved for me; but could never utter. I pulled back.

“You can send me away”, he said. “I won’t”, I whispered.

Squeezing his hand; I stepped over to the door, and bolted it. I felt him moving up behind me; and his hands slid around my torso; as he drew in the scent of my hair. “Still…”, he said. I smiled at the sensation of his warm breath to the back of my head; and turned around to face him again.

I put my hands on his chest. “I want…”, I began. “Yes?”, he said. “I need…”. He pulled me towards him; and slid his finger from my chin; down my collarbone; and rest it by the pendant between my breasts. “Tell me, your majesty”, he smirked. My breath hitched; as the finger slid behind my robe; and found my breast – stroking softly just above my nipple. “Geralt”, I breathed. “Will you let me finish my sentence?”. He chuckled softly; and let his hand cup my breast - his thumb stroking the nub of the nipple. “If you can…”, he said. “Tell me. What is this place you have for me?”.

I took his free hand and drew it down my torso. “Here”, I whispered; and placed it between my legs; letting his fingers find my folds. He groaned as he found me already wet from want. I threw my head back and gasped; almost throbbing already, when his index finger slid between my labia; stroking the path from my nub to my entrance, and back again. “It is a good place”, he smirked. “Then explore it more”, I moaned.

He growled; and pushed me against the door; sliding two fingers into me. “I have missed this place”, he chuckled. “It is warm… slick… always wanting”. I mewled. “It’s wanted you for five years”, I said. He leaned in to me; pressing his fingers deeper inside my warmth. “Hmm”, he breathed into my ear. “That must be why it is so much tighter than I remember”. His palm began massaging my bundle of nerves; drawing swearwords from my mouth, not even I knew I had in me.

Geralt used his free hand to open my robe; and pull it off my shoulders – before dropping it on the floor. “I think the bath is cool enough. Let’s go warm it up again”. He drew his fingers from me – making me moan from the lack of contact – and put them in his mouth, tasting. The look of pleasure on his face; was enough to make me gasp and my tunnel tighten.

“I want to undress you”, I said. He smiled, and stepped back; letting my arms free for my task. I opened his jerkin, and pushed it off his shoulders; making it hit the floor with a bump. Running my hand across his chest; I walked around him. I slid my hands under the hem of his shirt; running them up his back, and lifting the fabric along the way. He helped me pull the shirt over his head.

I gently kissed the scar on his shoulder, where – so many years before – I’d treated his wound from the fight with the foglets. Cinnamon and neem. No chamomile. I felt him shiver under my touch. “Are you cold, witcher?”, I said. “Or do I scare you?”. He chuckled. “You’ve always scared me little frog”, he said. “But no more than now”. I stepped in front of him, and tilted my head. “What are you afraid of?”, I asked. He looked suddenly apprehensive. “That I’ll close my eyes; and when I open them again, you will be gone”. I smiled. “I’m here”, I said. “Now remind me that you are as well”.

Geralts eyes grew dark; and I swallowed hard, remembering what that expression on his face had led to, when we knew each other before. “Bath”, he growled. I gasped as he picked up my naked body; and carried me to the large tub. He leant down; as if to gently seat me in the warm water; but stopped a few inches above the surface – found my eyes, and grinned at me. “Geralt…!”, I managed; before he let go, dropping me into the water with a splash. I heard him laugh as I was resurfacing; and rubbing the water out of my eyes. “You’ll pay for that!”, I snarled; without being able to stifle my laughter. He quickly removed his boots and breeches. “I have the best currency right here”, he smirked; and released his hardness from his pants. My jaw dropped. I have missed you, I thought; sitting face to face with that most cherished part of his body.

Geralt stepped into the tub; making the water splash onto the floor. He sat down facing me; and realizing I was too stunned to move; he pulled me onto his lap, so I was straddling him. His fingers found my folds again. “Remember that night?”, he breathed. I moaned. “I remember many nights”, I smiled, panting. “At taverns… in haylofts… against trees… under the stars”. He chuckled. “You were so angry”. He slid his fingers into me again; his palm against my clit. “So beautiful”. I began riding his hand. “You wouldn’t let me come in the bath”, I breathed. “You made me wait”. He put his free arm around me; and pulled me close. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. “I won’t make you wait this time”, he growled into my ear; and his fingers and palm worked in perfect coordination – pushing and rubbing – until I was just about ready to come.

“Look at me”, he demanded. “I want to see your eyes”. Panting and mewling, I opened my eyes, and met his. His pupils were blown from lust; and his lips were pulled back into a snarl. “Do you want this?”, he asked; and I nodded with bated breath. “Then come for me, your majesty!”. His hand moved faster; and without breaking eye-contact; I rode him into extasy. My loins felt like they combusted; and my walls clenched around his fingers. In the end, I collapsed onto his chest.

He gently drew out his fingers, and removed the hair from my face to look at me. “This I remember”, he smiled. “What?”, I panted. “My well and fucked look?”. He growled. “I haven’t fucked you yet”. I felt his hard cock twitch against my stomach; and I smirked. “Well, as long as you’re here…”, I said. He narrowed his eyes. “Not yet”, he said. “I seem to remember as well; that you have a mouth on you”. I bit my lip. “That fucking lip”, he rumbled; pulled my face in for a kiss; sucking hard at my lower lip. “Get up”, he demanded.

I got out of the bath; my body dripping with water. Geralt got up behind me; his member rigid and wanting. “Bed”, he said; and with bated breath I walked over to the bed; seating myself on the edge of it. “No. On your knees”. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you asking the queen of Temeria to kneel for you?”, I smirked. His eyes were animal. “I’m telling you, woman; to get on your fucking knees and face the bed”. With shaking legs and a pounding heart; I did as I was told. “Good”, the witcher said; passing me to sit down in front of me on the bed. He looked at me for what seemed like forever. Then his face warmed, and he smiled. “Please”, he said. I smiled up at him.

Sliding my fingers around his shaft; I placed the head on my tongue; instantly recognizing the taste of him. I let out a moan; and slid him into my mouth. He groaned above me; sliding his fingers through my wet hair. I ran my nails down his torso; playing with the hair there; before gently cradling his testes. I bobbed my head up and down; never breaking eye-contact with the witcher. He smiled at me so gently; making me feel as if I had never looked more beautiful.

“How many nights I have thought of you like this”, he moaned. “Your hair wild, and your eyes… Shit!”. He cried out, as I took him deep into my mouth, sucking and swallowing; so he would feel the tension around his hardness. “Careful; someone will hear us!”, he breathed. I pulled him out; and pumped his length. “No one will hear us”, I said. “My rooms are empty at night, save for myself – and the occasional guest”.

Geralt looked at me wonderingly. “You said you hadn’t been with anyone since me”, he breathed, as I continued pumping him; and lapping at his tip. “I said I hadn’t been with any men”, I smirked. Geralts eyebrows raised, and he chuckled at me. “You’re always a surprise, woman”, he said. I stroked my tongue from the root to the tip of him. “I like to think of my life as a series of journeys”, I smiled. He placed both his hands on the sides of my face; drawing me to him. “Well”, he rumbled. “Let’s go on another one”.

He met my lips; and let the tip of his tongue met mine; before picking me up by the waist; and straddling me on him. I grabbed at his cock; desperately wanting him inside me; but he took a hold of my wrist; stopping me. “No”, he said. “No?”, I asked. He bared his teeth. “Hungry”, he growled. My eyes widened.

As if I weighed no more than a small animal; he flipped me around; laying me on the bed. He grabbed me behind my knees; and tugged me towards him – the sudden jolt of it making me gasp. He kneeled in front of the bed, and looked into me. “Has it changed much?”, I smiled at him. He exhaled and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to taste it”.

I drew in a breath; and his lips closed around my folds. He stuck his tongue inside me; after which he slid it up between my labia – letting it flicker over my nub. “Still sweet”; he said softly; before diving in again – taking the same route. “But more…”. He paused. “What?”, I breathed. He sent me a wicked smile. “Royal”. I laughed; which soon turned into a mewl, when he once again dove in to me. He flattened his tongue; and stroked it up and down my slit – all along holding my hips down; so I couldn’t move. “Fingers!”, I moaned. I heard him chuckle, and he slipped his fingers into me again; pressing upwards. His lips closed around my nub; and he suckled at it. First softly, then hard – as if he was in fact trying to devour me. My legs began shaking; and I once again saw stars and contracted around his fingers.

As I was still laying – panting – Geralt moved up my body; wiping his face of my juices. “I think I’ll have you now”, he growled smilingly. My breath heaving; I nodded, and spread my legs further for him to enter me. “No”, he said. I was dumbfounded “No? Geralt!”, I panted. He smiled. “I don’t want to use you up to fast”, he said; sliding his hands around the outsides of my breasts. He sucked at my left nipple; while pulling at my right. “I don’t think I ever had you here”, he said.

My lips parted. “No, you didn’t”, I said. “May I?”, he said. I bit my lip; and he groaned; catching my mouth in a brutal kiss; before straddling my waist, and placing himself between my breasts. He pushed my warm mounds around his hardness, and began thrusting slowly. He was careful not to place his full weight on me as he went; but his eyes were wild – the amber staring all the way into my soul. I scratched my nails down his chest, and he growled.

He was pulling at my nipples as he thrusted, sending sparks from them to my core. My small mewls every time I felt one of them, made him smile. “I will have to be careful I don’t come like this”, he groaned. “You were always able to continue quite soon, after you’d finished”, I smiled. “Yes”, he said. “But I want to come inside you”. He lifted himself off me, and looked at me; eyes suddenly soft. “Can you take me?”, he asked “It’s not been long since you came last, and I don’t want to…”. “Just fuck me, Geralt”, I said, and laughed. He smiled widely.

“Do you remember that first night we laid in bed together? At the inn?”. He ran his fingers from my collarbone, between my breasts; all the way down my stomach; ending up in my curls, playing with them. I laughed and nodded. “I thought you hated me”, I said. “I’d just tried to run away; so you tied me to the bed”. He placed himself between my legs; and lifted my knees – leaving me open for him. “That whole night I was pretending to sleep. In reality I wanted nothing more than to press my body against yours, and…”, he slid his fingers between my slick folds, opening and entering me, “… slide in to you”. His breath was warm against my neck, as he began moving slowly; his thrusts soft and swaying.

“I’m not sure I would have tried to stop you”, I breathed; moving with him; his hardness and the delicious ripples of its veins sending shivers through my body.

“It would have been a bad-mannered move of me. I did have you tied up to the bedpost”, he chuckled. I returned his laugh; and gasped as he made a single deep thrust, bottoming out in me with a groan.

“Again?”, Geralt smiled. “Yes, please...”, I said. He kissed me and our tongues met; massaging eachother - as he continued thrusting softly; and then bottomed out again. The feeling made my walls clench - and I came for the third time that night; taking us both by surprise. “Fuck!”, I yelped; making the witcher chuckle at me. “It is good I can still have this effect on you”, he said, letting my walls settle around his member - still inside me. “Are you ready for more?”.

I gasped as he thrust into me again, “Slow and sweet is still not your way. Is it, master witcher?”, I moaned into his ear. “I can go as slow or fast as you want, your majesty”, he said; dark voice almost warning me. I scratched my nails down his back, and locked my legs around his waist. “What about what you want? Why don’t you show me that?”.

He lifted his head, and looked at me warily. “Are you sure? I might hurt you…”, he said. I swallowed. “I want you to do to me, what you wanted to do that night”, I breathed.

His eyes darkened, and he put his lips to my mouth, quickly pressing his tongue between my teeth, and meeting mine. I felt a sting on my thigh, where he was digging his fingers into my skin. His thrusts became harder. “Say it”, he said. “Say you’re sure”. His pupils were blown, darkness taking over in him.

“I’m sure”, I said.

He made a groan, and pulled out of me; the sudden emptiness in my core almost painful from want. He flipped me over with a single hand on my hip; making me lay on my side, and placing himself behind me. Pulling me close to him with one hand; the other one grabbed my wrist, and placed my hand on the bedpost; closing it around the wood. He wanted me to hold on to it; as I had been tied up that night. He grabbed himself, and slid back into me; bottoming out in one thrust. I cried out from the feeling of it.

“Are you alright?”, he asked, his breath catching. “Y-yes”, I stammered. “Don’t stop”.

His arm around my torso; he held me firmly to his chest – putting his hand on my shoulder, so that I was nailed onto him. “I’m going to move now”, he said. I nodded and panted in anticipation.

With a loud groan, he pulled back; and slammed back inside of me – making me feel as if he was reaching all the way into the deepest parts of my being. He made the same move again; this time making me shiver so hard from pleasure, that my hand fell from the bedpost. Geralt grabbed it, and firmly put it back around the wood; clenching it to let me know not to let go. His hand then travelled to my neck, lightly squeezing my jugular. He moved again, slamming into me with a force I didn’t know could exist in lovemaking. My walls began to clench; as Geralts thrusts became more consistent.

His chest-hair tickled my back, making me giggle. “Something funny?”, he growled into my neck. “It tickles!”, I laughed. He continued thrusting in to my core. “This”, he said, slamming into me hard, once, “tickles?”.

I gasped loudly, and followed the sound with a loud moan. He squeezed my throat a little harder. “I’ll show you tickles”, he snarled; pulling out, and flipping me onto my stomach.

He placed both my hands on the headboard; once again making it clear that I was not to remove them from there. Putting his hands on my hips; he forcefully lifted my bottom into the air; and gave it one hand spank – making me yelp in surprise.

“Too much, little frog?”, he said, sliding his hand from my bottom, up my spine to my neck; before grabbing my hair, and turning my head to the side. He leant over my body; his still throbbing member poking at my thigh as he spoke. “I can stop any time”, he smirked; and slid a finger between my labia, tracing the shape of my entrance. I shivered; shook my head and turned it forward – holding on firmly to the headboard. “Good girl”, he whispered; before smacking my cheeks one more time, grabbing my hips; once again bottoming out inside of me. He held himself there, letting me adjust to the sensation.

Not satisfied with his lack of movement; I moved myself forward, and backed up against him again; trying to coax him to thrust. In a sudden movement, he lifted my torso against his; one hand on my breast, the other holding my throat; slightly squeezing. His hold on me was strong, both arms around me like firm logs covered by soft leather; and I melted against his broad chest. His length was still inside me, like a warm rod; forcing me to stay upright. I winced from the sudden sting of his fingers tweezing my nipple; and felt my whole body shiver as his voice rumbled from his chest. “I thought I told you before”, he said. “Don’t play with fire”. “Well, you never did punish me”, I croaked.

In an instant my hands were back on the headboard, his own hand covering them; making me lean forward again. He began thrusting hard, continuously making my whole body jolt forward each time his hips met my ass. Placing his right hand on my lower back; his thumb moved between my cheeks, probing at the ring of muscle there, intensifying the sensation of his thrusts. The muscles in my thighs were seething from the strain of holding my bottom raised. Geralt continued to thrust into me; but realizing my predicament, slid his left hand under me to hold me up – taking advantage of his finger’s closeness to my nub, to tease and rub it. He was now stimulating my entire intimate area.

I could no longer moan silently; my walls once again clenching around him from the sweet sensations of his fingers along with his brutal attack on my vagina. I began mewling loudly, accompanying the sounds of his groans each time he bottomed out.

A thundering current, pulsating to the rhythm of his thrusts, began spreading from my core, throughout my limbs. It was at once a hot and cold sensation, that made my fingers shake, until I could no longer hold on to the headboard, and fell forward; with my face into the pillow.

Suddenly it felt like I shattered. A sweet mixed sensation of pain and pleasure spread into every inch of my body. My legs began to shake, my arms and shoulders jolted – and I opened my mouth; and screamed.

Geralt did not stop. Continuously moaning and grunting, he slammed, slammed and slammed into me; almost lifting me into the air with each thrust, from the sheer force of it.

I was losing control of my limbs, and the growling beast behind me was relentless in his excavation of me - while simultaniously rubbing and teasing my most sensitive spots; to force me to continue orgasming around him - giving him pleasure, and drawing mine out.

Behind me, Geralt roared; and with a final hard thrust into me, he came undone; and fell over me – our bodies still attached. Panting, Geralt lifted the hair from the back of my neck, and kissed it gently, before rolling of me, and onto his back; sliding out of me in the process. My face was still buried in the pillow.

He slid a finger down my back. “Are you alright?”, he asked; sounding worried. I turned my face to look at him; my body still convulsing in aftershocks. I tried to nod, but it disappeared in one of the jolts.

“Y/N?”, he asked, distressed. He pulled me into his arms, stroked my cheek and removed the hair from my face. His fretful eyes searched my own. “Say something!”. “I… can’t move”, I breathed. “Did I hurt you?”, he asked. “N-no”, I stammered. “I haven’t… so much… in a long time... ever...”. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

He breathed a gasp in relief, before laughing at my expression. “I told you”, he said; and pulled me to lay across his chest. “Mhmm”, I answered, my eyelids heavy. “You did. But I wanted it. It was good”. His chest rumbled from his chuckle. “Just good?”. “Hhmmm…”, I sighed, and yawned.

He put his arms around me, and ran a hand through my hair. “Sleep now, little frog. I might want you again in the morning”.

“Hhmnn frog…”, I mumbled – and drifted off.

---

He did have me again in the morning; twice. And then one more time in the afternoon, before I waved him off from my window; his note to me, still in my hand.

Until the next journey, little frog.

---

[eratobard]

Saved by the Bell: Chapter 3

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geraskier, Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: G

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~

Giant blue eyes stared at Geralt as he tried his best to listen to Mr. Mousesack detail their homework.  Geralt blushed as he tried to ignore his crush, but it was hard when he was sitting in front of him, with his head leaning back on his desk as he stared up at him. 

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “I can’t believe we’ve had history together this whole time and I didn’t realize till now.”

Geralt nodded his head. Jaskier probably hadn’t noticed because he was usually talking to Priscilla who sat in front of him. That, and Geralt was shy so he didn’t usually talk to anyone at school.

“Mr. Pankratz, I suggest you stop talking to Mr. Rivia and focus up here so you know what the assignment is,” Mr. Mousesack frowned.

Jaskier lifted his head, “I’m not talking to ‘Mr. Rivia’, I’m flirting.” Geralt blushed and tried to ignore the questioning looks of his classmates.

Mr. Mousesack sighed, “Regardless, pay attention.”

“Yes sir!” Jaskier grinned as he proceeded to lay his head back on Geralt’s desk. 

Geralt tried to ignore him, but it wasn’t working.

“You have such pretty eyes,” Jaskier whispered, “has anyone ever told you that?”

Geralt quickly shook his head as he stared at his desk.

“If anyone has any questions over the assignment feel free to come up and talk to me. Unless you’re Mr. Pankratz,” Mr. Mousesack grinned. 

Jaskier lifted his head up and stuck his tongue out playfully at the teacher. He spun around in his seat to face Geralt, “I can’t believe no one has told you that. Your eyes are so magical.”

Geralt wasn’t sure how to reply. He thought Jaskier’s eyes were the magical ones, but he was too embarrassed to say that.

“Ow,” Jaskier grabbed the back of his head and spun around.

Priscilla grinned as she held out a stack of papers to him, “Sorry Jask, you weren’t paying attention. Grab one and pass it back.”

Jaskier grabbed the stack of papers and stared at it questioningly, “What’s this?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes, “It’s the homework assignment you goof-off.”

“Right,” Jaskier grabbed two, one for him and one for Geralt, then handed the stack to the student behind Geralt. Jaskier scanned the document, “We should probably work on this together right?”

Geralt shrugged his shoulders, “If… if you want.”

“The assignment should be easy enough to do on your own, Mr. Pankratz,” Mr. Mousesack called to him from across the room.

Jaskier nodded, “Yeah, I know, but I had a question. Geralt is answering it for me.”

Mr. Mousesack shook his head and sighed, “Very well, let me know if he is bothering you, Mr. Rivia.”

Geralt shook his head, “...he’s not.”

Jaskier grinned as he rested his head on his hand and continued to stare at Geralt.

“So… um, what question did you have?” Geralt mumbled.

“Question? Oh, right, um,” Jaskier scanned the paper, “Number 5.”

Geralt looked the question over, “Um, it’s fill in the blank. I can’t give you the answer....”

Jaskier shook his head, “No, no, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I just don’t understand the question.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Um, it’s asking what the capital of Kaedwen is... wh-what exactly is confusing you?”

Jaskier stared at the question, “Hmmm, I guess… what does capital mean?”

“Oh gods,” Priscilla groaned, “you suck at this.”

Jaskier frowned and kicked her desk, “Quiet, we’re supposed to be doing this on our own.”

Geralt couldn’t help but laugh. He tried to stifle it with his hand but failed. Jaskier grinned as he turned back to look at him, “Did you just laugh?”

Geralt blushed, “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier shook his head, “Don’t apologize.” He folded his arms on Geralt’s desk and smiled as he rested his head on them, “I like your laugh. It’s cute.”

Geralt wasn’t sure how to respond, but he didn’t get a chance when the class dismissal bell rang. He was grateful for the save. Jaskier patted Geralt’s hand as he stood up, “See you later Geralt!”

Priscilla frowned at Jaskier as he grabbed his things, “Leave him alone. You’re bothering him.”

Jaskier nudged at her as he walked past her, “I’m not! He already said I wasn’t bothering him.”

“Because he’s nice, unlike you,” Priscilla poked his arm.

Jaskier gasped in feigned offense, “I’m nice!” Priscilla laughed as she followed Jaskier out of the classroom.

Geralt sighed as he gathered up his own school supplies. There was no way he could compete with her.