#BUT THE FUCKING WITCHER WON'T TAKE THE DAMN CONTRACT FOR LOVE OR MONEY

[inexplicifics]

The Million Dollar Question: For “Stop one heart from breaking” how did Blaviken go down? Did Geralt get pulled away? Did they never get involved? Is Renfri still alive and out there? I’m dying to know

Oh damn, that's a really good question.

I don't think Geralt would be the Butcher of Blaviken in the I Shall Not Live in Vain 'verse, because Jaskier would recognize him if he was, and he doesn't. Which means Blaviken did go down differently.

Hm. Remus would have still been alive then. And of course Geralt's pack includes Lambert, who would probably be Not Amused by a sorcerer planning to do sick and nasty things to a random girl - it's too much like the Trials.

Would Renfri even have approached a whole pack of witchers? Would Stregobor have tried to hire them?

*

"She's a monster," the mage says.

"She's human," Remus says, crossing his arms and glowering. "Wolf witchers don't take contracts on humans. End of story."

His alphas, behind him, echo his stance and glower. The mage glances from one to another, scowling, and turns to stomp back into his tower.

"I think we should camp outside of town tonight," Eskel says mildly. "Now that we've offended the local mage, and all."

They've just finished setting up camp when there's the soft sound of boot on moss, and they all turn, hands dropping to the hilts of their swords, to see a young woman approaching. She's a pretty, dark-eyed, dark-haired little thing, but the well-worn grips of the knives at her belt suggest she's more dangerous than she appears.

She smells...odd. Neither alpha nor omega nor beta, but somehow fluctuating between them. Eskel's never smelled anything quite like it before.

She stops just inside the clearing, looking at them without any fear. "Witchers," she says. "I've a contract for you, if you'll take it."

"Tell us what it is," Remus says, beckoning her to come and sit down.

The girl tells them a tale - true, insofar as Eskel can tell past that odd fluctuating scent - of Stregobor the mage and how he has hounded and hindered her all her life, the foul things he has done to her and the vengeance she desires.

"Help me slay him," she asks - no, demands, like the princess she used to be. "He's a monster, as sure as any werewolf or vampire you've killed."

"We don't take contracts on humans," Remus says firmly. "Even foul ones."

The girl snarls. "Then on your heads be it," she says, and makes to get up, but Lambert puts out a hand to stop her.

"Even if we did take human contracts," he says, "that fucker's in his tower, and isn't going to come out for love nor money, if he knows you're around. Four witchers aren't gonna change that."

"He'll come out if I make him," the girl growls. "I'll kill every last fucking person in the town if I have to, to bring him out."

"That won't do it," Geralt says, and shrugs when she looks at him. "He won't care."

"Geralt's right," Eskel agrees. "He doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself. You could slaughter the whole town in front of his tower door, and he'd stay inside and laugh."

"Then what can I do?" the girl wails, and Eskel realizes she's not much older than a new-medallioned brother, for all that she's been through pain as miserable as the Trials.

There's a pause as the four witchers look at each other. Eskel can feel Remus's reluctance - he knows this is no work for witchers. Geralt is angry and miserable. Lambert is just angry, their sharp-edged youngest packmate who hates injustice.

"Here," Lambert says, digging into his pack and pulling something out. The girl takes it, frowning. "Dimeritium bomb. It won't be strong enough to get you in - it'd take a lot more than that to get through his fucking wards - but it's enough to keep a mage from doing much of anything, if you douse him in it."

"Lambert," Remus scolds. Lambert glares at their omega.

"She's a right to her vengeance, and Stregobor's a piece of shit," he snaps. "Look, girl. Little butcherbird. You hide, and wait until he thinks you're gone. Until he thinks he can wander around with fuckin' impunity. And then you light that and toss it at him, and when he's covered in dimeritium, you can cut his damn throat yourself, and stick his carcass on a fucking thornbush if you want to."

The girl looks at the bomb in her hand, and then slowly scans the faces of the four witchers. Lambert is glowering. Geralt nods, slowly. Eskel tips his head in quiet acknowledgement. Remus sighs but doesn't object again.

"Alright," the girl says quietly. "Yes." She stands, tucking the bomb away. "Thanks," she adds brusquely, and vanishes into the trees.

A month later, the pack hears a story about the Butcherbird of Blaviken, who left the mage Stregobor's corpse in eight different pieces, each impaled on a different fencepost around the town.

"Good for her," Lambert says, and Geralt and Eskel nod.