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usmsgutterson · 3 years

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Page Eighty-Three- Kaz Brekker

Real (Page Eighty-Three series, part 3)

And thus, here we arrive at the end of the Page Eighty-Three series! I’ve been working on it almost a week now, and had the idea brewing in my brain for two weeks beforehand, so, considering the way that I’ve chosen to publish all the parts, it’s not gonna be a very emotional goodbye for you guys, but for me, oddly enough, it is?

Its the first fic I’ve done that’s been more than two parts, and I guess that adds to it? I don’t know! But, anyways, on with it!

Also, a gentle reminder, I only have Kaz being a little on the touchier side because this is a bit of an AU of sorts, and they’re around twenty four in this last part, which gave him time to work on his trauma more and get comfortable with touch!

Fic type- fluffy as fuck

Warnings- a very brief mention of the flashback in the first chapter (to be specific, nina says ‘stopped you from getting hatecrimed’) and a brief sexual innuendo

T H R E E Y E A R S L A T E R

You knocked out after you’d killed your father, and went home completely unconscious on Inej’s boat, tucked onto a cot with Kaz at your side. Genya had decided to spend a little time around Ketterdam, get to know the ins and outs and provide intel for Nikolai when he asked for it, and Nina had decided that her home could be Ketterdam for four months of every year.

Inej did her thing, catching and killing slavers all around the globe, but her visits to Ketterdam became more frequent after you’d gotten back.

Jesper took your amplifier and made it a project for himself, removing the claw from the obsidian and instead using his fabrikator abilities to turn it into a bracelet that you wore on your right hand, made of gold, with the claw dulled out so that it didn’t poke you when you moved your wrist.

A year after you’d returned home, when yourself and Kaz had gone into his office one morning, book clutched in one of your hands, the other interlaced with Kaz’s fingers, you found a box sitting on his desk.

A note from Zoya was taped to the top of it.

A top tier bitch deserves a top tier amplifier, it read. Bracelet. Wear it on your right wrist. It’ll go with the bear claw wrapped in gold.

You kept the note, reading it to yourself whenever you needed a laugh, giggling about it with Nina when she needed a laugh, too.

All of those small moments ended up leading to a much bigger one, though. The day that Kaz proposed.

It was a pretty simple proposal, but you loved it.

“I had to get advice from Jes about this,” was how he started it, even before he’d gotten down onto one knee. “He proposed to Wylan in the fall, and I know that the Winter makes Ketterdam look absolutely stunning, and I know that you like the scenery, so, well, here we are.”

You’d been walking around Ketterdam, the clicking of Kaz’s cane against the pavement a soothing sound for the both of you.

You’d managed to make it near the outskirts of Ketterdam just by walking, as Kaz’s leg was being decent to him and he wanted to walk until you’d arrived at one of the more scenic spots. You indulged him for the sake of it, making sure you took breaks and that he got water when he was tired.

It’d been snowing, and the sky had yet to darken beyond a light grey. You and Kaz both had snow in your hair, but to one another, it just added to handsomeness, so neither of you moved to brush the snow out of your hair or off your faces.

“When we were seventeen,” he began, feeling for the box in his pocket. The one with a ring inside, cushioned by red, velvety fabric. “You read me a quote from the book I’d gotten you that day. You’ve memorized just about every poem in it since, and I happen to have done the same thing.”

“The quote that you read to me was from The Sun and Her Flowers. It was on page eighty three,” he grinned at you, a fully fledged smile. Something he saved for you and you exclusively.

“I’m going to change the wording a bit, because it’s in the past tense, and we’re not past tense. The quote was ‘you were mine, and my life was full,’,” he said. “I’m changing it to ‘you are mine, and my life is full.’ Because thats how I feel.”

“Kaz?” You asked. “Do you have something planned?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he clutched the box.

“I suck at words, so, from Rupi Kaurs book Milk and Honey, I offer you this,” he carefully got down onto a knee, using his cane to keep him steady for a few quiet moments as you realized what was happening.

“‘You are every hope and dream I’ve ever had, in human form.” He pulled out the ring, opening the box and holding it out to you. “That’s page forty nine, love.”

“If you can’t think of an answer, please, just-- anything works,” if Jesper had told sixteen year old Kaz Brekker that he’d end up on his knees, begging you for a response to his proposal at just twenty two, he’d have called Jesper crazy.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “Yes, Kaz Brekker. If you’re asking me to marry you, it’s an immediate yes.” He used his cane to get himself up to standing again, slipping the ring onto your ring finger and accepting the hug that you pulled him into.

You were going to marry Kaz Brekker, the love of your life, and you couldn’t wait for it.

The day seemed to come at you quickly, even though you’d not set the date until Winter of year that you turned twenty four.

First, it was calling Nikolai and asking if you could cash in the reward for killing your father and doing him and the world a justice that they deserved, then it was finding suitable tuxedos and sending out invitations and planning a million different things at once.

But, eventually, you, Jesper, Wylan, Genya, and Nina, were all on Inejs boat, headed toward the Little Palace.

Then, all of the sudden, you were in the last stretch of time before the wedding. Alina, Mal, Genya, Zoya, and Nina were talking as Genya tailored you, getting rid of some of the blemishes and fixing up little things about your face that you’d asked her to tailor until the end of the ceremony.

“It’s weird,” Alina said, pressing a kiss to Mals cheek as she glanced at her own wedding ring. “I remember you as this fourteen year old boy who used to gawk at the attractive guys in the Second Army, the boy who resented his powers and swore at his father at any chance that he got, and now you’re and you’re completely different.”

“Different how?”

“Kaz Brekker,” Genya said, running her finger under one of your eyes gently, as to get rid of your eyebags. “He’s good for you.”

“And you don’t resent your powers anymore,” Zoya adds. “You don’t use them often, but you don’t resent them.”

“You use them, don’t you, mate?” Mal quipped. “Or were my eyes tricking me when I went to wake you and Brekker up this morning, only to find you keeping light out of your room with a flick of your bloody wrist?”

“I was tired,” you pouted. “Kaz and I both were!”

“Ah, newlyweds,” Nina joked.

“It’s not like that!” You shouted. “Zoya, help me out!”

“He’s able to kiss you now,” she said. “Like, with tongue and stuff. Theres no reason he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a fun little tumble with you here and there!”

“’Tongue, and stuff,’” Mal repeated. “Yes, Zoya, because, as a twenty six year old woman, that’s totally adult phrasing.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to describe it any better,” Nina quipped. Genya and Alina hummed their agreement as Genya moved to your hair, fluffing it and styling it so it that it looked nice as you adjusted the cuffs on your dress shirt.

“Wheres my blazer?” You asked, grabbing your tie from Genyas lap, tying it as she evened out some of the color near your roots.

“Closet,” Alina answered. “I’ll get it for you!” Mal checked his watch.

“We’ve got three minutes to get down there,” he said. “Lets make the most of Y/Ns remaining 180 seconds unmarried.” You laughed, rolling your eyes as Genya stood, helping you up after.

Nina shot Genya a glance, and she took the hint, ushering Alina, Mal and Zoya out of the room and passing Nina your blazer as she left.

Nina helped you into your blazer, running her thumb along your cheek with a smile.

“I never thought I’d see Kaz Brekker married,” she said. “But hey, I guess stopping you from getting hatecrimed had it’s benefits, didn’t it?”

You laughed, shrugging.

“I think that we’ll rebuild some of the Slat,” you said. “Make the rooms bigger. Get plaques declaring whos room is whos.”

“A golden plaque with Nina Zenik emblazoned on it?”

“Bolted to your bedroom door, Neens.”

“I love you, Morozova.” She said, trapping you into a tight hug.

“I love you back, Zenik.” You said. “Now, c’mon. I don’t think anyone would take too kindly to me being late for my own bloody wedding, would they?”

The wedding was small, taking place close to the entrance of the Little Palace. There were no chairs to sit on, but the few guests you’d invited didn’t mind it whatsoever.

The guest list was fairly small, considering your tight knit little family. Wylan was Kaz’s best man, Your best woman was Nina. The people standing in the small crowd were all familiar faces.

Wylans mother, Marya Hendriks, and Jespers father, Colm Fahey were the oldest there. Among them were Nikolai, Alina, Mal, Genya, Rotty and Specht, and the two members of the Dregs who’d originated the King of the Barrel nicknames. Their names were Terrowin and Kira, and when you caught their eyes, they were beaming at you both.

Jesper was officiating, and as you met his gaze, you remembered how he was practically bouncing off the walls the day that you’d asked him to officiate.

“Okay, now that they’re both here, we can begin!” Jesper couldn’t hide his excitement.

“Mr. Brekker,” Jesper laughed through the words. He’d not called Kaz ‘Mr. Brekker’ unless he was doing so in a jokey context. You knew that, had it been anyone elses wedding, they’d probably have gotten angry at Jesper for giggling through the words, but for you and Kaz, it just added to an already perfect day. “Do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” he said.

“Mr. Morozova,” Jesper glanced at you, and you met his gaze, having to stifle laughter when you realized just how wide his grin was. How happy he seemed. He looked like he was about to start bouncing off the walls and screaming with joy. “Do you take Kaz as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Hells yes,” you said, giggling slightly. For a moment, Kaz let his lips lift into a grin. You matched it with your own smile and took his hand into yours.

“You’ve prepared your own vows, so, Mr. Brekker, sir, you go first!” Kaz glanced at Jesper inquisitively, grin still on his face as he started talking and met your eye.

“I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you,” he said. “And when my heart says something, I’ve learned to listen to it. I love you with my entire heart and so much more, and I hate that I’m not good with words, because that’s all I can say. Nothing else accurately cultivates the feelings I’ve felt for you since that night, when you were broken and bruised underneath that saintsforsaken lamplight. I promise to love you every minute of every day, Brekker.” You’d agreed to change your last name to his. You’d be Y/N Brekker by the end of the night.

“Mr. Brekker,” Jesper said. “Since you’ll be married in a few minutes and I have to get used to that last name on you, you may say your vows!”

“When I was fifteen, I was caught and beat broken by a group of eight eighteen year olds,” you began. “But you saved my ass before I was killed, and it seems as though our relationship has been a series of saves ever since. Kaz Brekker, with the ring I’m about to put on your finger, I’m promising that I’ll do that forever. Please, though, try to avoid getting yourself kidnapped too often, okay?” His chest shook in silent laughter as he nodded.

“The rings, gentlepeople?” Jesper asked, Nina passed you the ring you’d slip into Kaz’s finger, and Wylan passed Kaz the one he’d put onto yours.

“Put them on,” Jesper said. You and Kaz both glanced at him once more, meeting each others eye thereafter, grinning and shaking your heads. It’d become very clear to you that the twenty four year old who you’d recruited to officiate your wedding was damn near close to letting out an excited squeal.

Kaz put the ring onto your ring finger and you did the same for him, waiting for Jespers next words as you took a half a step closer to Kaz.

“Kiss, you idiots!” Jesper said. Kaz laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He’d kiss you like nothing else later in the evening, when the only thing to bug you was a lamp that you’d left on, but you both agreed that a forehead kiss would be as far as you’d go in front of others. Kisses, to Kaz, were personal, and you respected and loved that about him.

“Saints, bless this fuckin’ union!” Jesper shouted. You glanced at Alina, who shot you a thumbs up and a nod as the party part of the wedding kicked off.

Terrowin and Kira were the first people that you and Kaz talked to.

“Did you secure it?” He asked.

“The property?” Terrowin was a Zemeni boy, with skin dark as night and eyes as warm as the sun.

“Or the trip?” Asked Kira, a girl from Shu Han with hair black as the feathers on a crow and blue eyes as cold as the Fjerdan ice.

“The property, first and foremost,” he said. “Did you get it? Did you give it the name I asked you to?”

“Yes, and yes,” said Terrowin. “Beside The Silver Six is a bookstore called Page Eighty-Three. It’s scheduled to open in the fall.” Your eyes widened as you made the connection.

“Page eighty-three?” You asked, smirk on your lips. Kaz shrugged.

“And the request?”

“The line from the poem will be put on the wall behind the clerks counter,” Kira said. “Just as you requested.”

“And the trip?”

“Your boat for Novyi Zem leaves in two days, Boss,” Kira said. “Two bells in the afternoon. It’s directly routed to Coftons docks.” Kaz nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll see you when Page Eighty-Three opens.”

“Damn right we will,” you said. Terrowin and Kira laughed as they walked away.

You glanced around the room, spotting Jesper and Wylan perched at a piano, playing the music that everyone was dancing to. Marya and Colm dancing close to them. Nina and Zoya dancing like idiots and laughing throughout. Mal and Inej making conversation and Genya and Alina heading your way.

“Congrats, you two,” Genya said. “Can I expect to see you both tanned and rested up when you get back from Novyi Zem?”

“You’ll be in Ketterdam?” You asked. Genya nodded.

“For a couple of months, to make sure that your Jesper friend doesn’t colossally fuck things up while your friend Inej is doing her thing on the open ocean,” Alina said. “I’m there to visit for a bit, under the radar.”

“Thank you, Alina,” he said. “Thank you both. For everything that you’ve done in these past years.”

“No biggie, Brekker,” Alina said. “I don’t know you that well, but I see how happy you make Y/N, and he’s like a little brother. I care about his happiness.”

“You two are absolutely bloody adorable,” Genya said. “Now, back to my question, will you be tan, or at the very least, well rested, upon your return?”

“Kaz is pale,” you said. “He’ll burn like a crisp. Me? I don’t really know. I guess it depends.”

“We’ll be well rested,” Kaz said. “He’s a darkling. He can create shadow. I fully intend to use that to keep the sun out in the mornings.”

“I won’t do whatever you ask of me!” You quipped.

“You had no issue with that last night,” he said, raising a teasing eyebrow. “Or this morning!”

“Mal was right!” Alina shouted, her and Genya bursting into giggles. “Damn it, I hate it when that happens!” You laughed.

You took another glance around you, spotting your friends.

No, wait. Scratch that.

Not your friends.

Your family.

Your family was having a good time, eating, talking, dancing, laughing. They were enjoying themselves and congratulating you as you talked to Alina and Genya.

Kaz had an arm around your waist, his cheek pressed against the side of your head as his other hand gently turned your wedding ring around on your finger. He was talking to people without arguing with them. He was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Your life was perfect.

Kaz was yours, you were his, and your life was full.

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tags: @whateverfandom00 @a-c-lee @incorrectquotesconaisseur @the7seannas @teatimeforusreaders @hunnybunimdun

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix

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devilsneverycry · 3 years

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Lorian X OC (something I found in my drafts)

The Queen of Lothric, her name is hushed. For those who speak of her offer great discomfort for the civilians around them. She had a name however it has not been spoken of since her death. Her last moments alive fell on the day Prince Lothric was born into the horror that would come later. The birth was difficult. Difficult to conduct, difficult to keep such a fragile child alive and difficult to keep the mentality of Othe King in check... Difficult to keep the Queen alive. Both, the King Oceiros and the queen didn’t survive long after lothric’s birth. The Queen passed and the king’s mind passed with her.

Lorian gave up a part of himself that day. His soul. The instant that the queen went into labour, he felt the suffering of his younger brother. The weak and desperate child trying to escape. First it would be the womb and later, his throne in the firelink shrine. The elder Prince was sharpening his sword and talking to a fellow squire when he felt this shift inside of his body. He remembers it clearly. He remembers falling to the ground, sword dropping out of his hand as he hit the dirt beneath him. The bones underneath his skin creaked with every moment and clicked out of place as he tried to rise to his feet. He wasn’t a proper knight as of yet, he had trained, fought and be beaten many times but nothing could prepare him for the pain he would be feeling.

Lorian soon got pulled into the arms of the squire, frantically carrying him to get help for the sudden fit of pain. Neither of them had any idea what they had just gotten themselves into.

The elder Prince briefly thought about the past, this particular situation playing back in his head and screaming at him how important this all was. Was...was what he said really true.

He suddenly got ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of rapid footsteps coming closer and closer to him until he was knocked off of his feet. Lorian was sent falling to the ground and a loud clashing sound vibrating off of his armour. It wasn’t until he actually looked at what knocked him over.

“My prince, I’m so happy to see thee!” said the voice from on top of him. Lorian looked up from the abundance of Lothric armour on both him and the knight above him to see that very squire positioned close and comfortable on top of him. Terrowin was the name of that squire, now turned knight. Terrowin and his family moved to the kingdom of Lothric from irythll so he could train and become a knight. One look at him and you can already tell he’s from irithyll based on his pale skin with a soft purple undertone. At this point in time you wouldn’t be able to see this under his knight helmet but Lorian would never be able to forget his delicate features.

Before the prince could respond Terrowin had already taken off his helm and gave Lorian and smile,

“did thee miss me like thou missed thee?” he teased and slide himself off of the prince, getting back into his feet and offering Lorian a hand in return which he happily took.

“Come now, enough with all this fancy talk.” Lorian laughed softly, subconsciously hushing himself from others noticing. “You know I missed you” he teased right back at Terrowin, nudging his chest plate before smacking the dirt off his armour. Such a simple action made the other knight chuckle.

“Oh I’m so sorry your royal highness, I didn’t mean to dirty up your expensive armour. Should I get on my knees and lick it clean myself?” Terrowin continued to tease and make fun of Lorian’s position in contrast to him. The prince decided to humour him.

“Maybe you should... Or maybe you should finish setting up camp until sundown instead of flirting with your higher ups”

#lothric and lorian #lorian elder prince #dark souls 3 #dark souls #my fics

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

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The Unfortunate Truth

Jaskier x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1348 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jaskier falls in love with a noble lady, but love just isn’t enough.

——————————————————————————————————

The two of you had very little in common.

Jaskier was nothing more than a simple bard, who spent more of his time in rundown bars surrounded by drunks and vagrants. You, on the other hand, were of noble blood and looked like it.

Every time he’d ever seen you, it was all he could do not to stare. He just couldn’t help himself.

You dripped nobility, wearing flowy gowns and sparkling jewelry. That alone would have caught anyone's attention, but there was something more that so captivated Jaskier.

It was the air about you.

Never once had he seen you stuffy or scowling as the others seemed to. You radiated life, your bubbly laughter filling the large hall without apology.

That sound was sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard, and he was sure that in all his years, he would never be able to rival its beauty with his own voice.

Though, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

As of late, every single song Jaskier had written was about you, and it was getting less and less subtle as he went on. Geralt had told him how strange it was, how uncomfortable it would make you if you knew, but the bard truly couldn’t stop.

You had become the muse for his every ballad, the words falling from his lips aimlessly as he thought of your smiling face. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to stop.

...And he’d made peace with that.

The only thing that he hadn’t made peace with was the fact that you two didn’t have a prayer in the world to be together.

He had been playing at all the kingdoms events for some time now and you’d been at every single one, sneaking away whenever you could to spend time with him but he was of no title.

There was not a chance in the world for either you or Jaskier to be together. Your family simply wouldn’t allow it.

A bard on the throne, could you imagine it?

Still, that didn’t change the obvious feelings you had for the young male, and it certainly did little to take away the love Jaskier had for you.

Even knowing that there was little chance for you two to have a future together, he dreamed of getting to see your smiling face, poised on him and only him for every moment of his life.

It was an unfortunate truth but a truth none-the-less.

Jaskier, at that time, thought that was the worst thing that would ever happen to him, the greatest tragedy of his life, but he was wrong.

Even worse than having to hide your love for one another from every single person in the kingdom, was the fact that you were now to be married to another.

It was your mother’s idea.

There was a nobleman coming to stay at your family's castle for a few days on his way through the kingdom and it had come to her attention that he was searching for a wife.

You knew that, everyone did, but naturally, you assumed that she would never suggest you married such a man.

Ser Merek Terrowin was, by all accounts, a grotesque old fool. However, he was the heir to a rather large fortune and that made him a good ally to keep in wartime.

Not that you cared about that.

You couldn’t have cared less, even if he was the richest man in all the world. There was no enough money anywhere to make you keep his company, and you had told her that.

Though, there was practically no use arguing with your mother. She had already made up her mind, and your father was little help to convince her that such a pairing would be a bad idea.

It seemed obvious to you, but for the kingdom itself, it could be a good idea to keep such a powerful aide. If your people ever found themselves in a place of need, they would have Merek’s money.

You understood it, logically but you also knew that there was no chance in the world for you to care for the older man, not while you felt so strongly for Jaskier.

There was only so much love in your heart, and you’d already given it all away.

The trouble was that you couldn’t very well explain that to your mother, whose heart was cold as ice in that regard, or your timid father.

Neither of them would be any help in your quest, so you had to find another way to get out of it.

You were prepared to do whatever it took, but you had to speak to Jaskier first. There was simply no way you were going to marry anyone other than him, and it didn’t matter to you if you had to leave everything behind to do it.

You had received word this morning that Ser Terrowin would be arriving in two days time, which meant that you had to work quickly.

“Jaskier” you called, rather carelessly, all things considered as you ducked behind one of the walls to find him. Usually the two of you met away from the great hall, but there was no such luxury today.

Your mother had been keeping a close eye on you since breaking the news of your betrothal, already well aware that you would put up a fight over it.

He had been waiting for you, of course, worried now that something was wrong with how long it had taken you. Usually, he was only there for a moment or two before you came over to greet him.

...And once he saw that look in your eyes, it confirmed his worries.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked, almost immediately. Between the two of you, Jaskier was much more bogged down by anxieties, so if you were holding some bad news, it had to be really bad.

You sighed at first, trying to compose your thoughts, deciding finally that there was no good way to say it.

“My mother has arranged for me to marry Merek Terrowin”

The news came as a crushing blow to Jaskier, who had been dreading this day since the two of you had met. Of course a beautiful young maid like you was to be married at some point, but he didn’t think that time would come so soon.

If nothing else, he thought he’d get some time with you before some cruel lord came to snatch you away from him.

“I suppose we knew this day was coming” he tried, doing his best to be as proper and decent as he could, though Jaskier was sure that he could feel his heart breaking in two as you spoke.

From where he was standing, there was no option other than for you to marry the man, leaving him alone, once again.

...But he should have known better.

You had never been the kind of person to accept something like this lying down, which was exactly why there was a guard over your shoulder, standing against the wall.

His only job was to make sure that you didn’t go anywhere, but that was only a temporary state. In truth, you could leave as soon as you wanted to, it just had to be gone about in the right way.

“I don’t accept that, there has to be a way” you huffed, losing your composure ever so slightly as you tried to get him to understand. You had a plan, but if Jaskier didn’t really want to be with you, he had to say so now.

“I could leave, we could leave, and be together somewhere else...somewhere far away from here” you suggested finally, your words in a sharp whisper.

It was a risky plan, something that could potentially be really dangerous but you didn’t care. Right now, you just wanted to be with Jaskier and no matter what you had to do in order to do that, it would be worth it.

All you had to do was leave

#jaskier #the witcher #witcher #jaskier x reader #jaskier x ps reader #jaskier x plus size reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher x ps reader #the witcher x plus size reader #the witcher imagine #witcher x reader #witcher x ps reader #witcher x plus size reader #witcher imagine

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 8)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt seemed to always get involved for a royal favor; no matter how he avoids it, they keep slithering back until he agrees to accept. Though, the sorceress wants you involved in it as well. After the unlucky incident back in the marketplace, the witcher was keen on bringing you back to where you belong; sparking up an argument with the bard as Jaskier could feel that there was something palpable and precious with the odd like care you were receiving from the Butcher of Blaviken. Destiny just knows how to play the game well.

Warnings: Sorceress and Tybalt being touchy feely. (I know you want Geralt being touchy feely as well. You’ll get it soon I promise. HAHAHHA) Jaskier spitting some truths. Geralt being hot and then cold again, you just can’t understand what he wants. *sigh* I can see y’all planning to get a razor and make Geralt bald. XDDDDD

Words: 5.5k+

A/N: DANG. GERALT OF RIVIA. YOU’VE TAKEN THE CURSE OFF ME. I usually lose all my ideas after chapter 5. But, here we are. This will freakin’ take 30 chapters (I said 25 in the last chapter? DID I? OH. AHIHIHIHIHI) and I think I won’t regret it because of how slow paced I am. AHAHHAHAHAA. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING ON THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER? HEEHEE! WHAT ARE YOUR HUNCHES?

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

In the other side of the town where it is all serene and neglected, a red carriage has been waiting in silence for the return of her aide. The sorceress peered out of the tiny partition used as a window to see people outside where her glowing purple eyes can only be seen.

Tybalt sat beside her with a grimace, huffing out breaths full of vexation at the events that has happened which ruined all of his plans for the night with the Duke and some noblemen who wanted their maidens.

"Is he---??" The sorceress trailed off, sounding fascinated as she squinted her glowing, purple eyes out in the open as she saw a child, a bard and a witcher who was carrying a small bleeding woman in his arms. Tybalt grunted his approval, acting so stingy by the change of events, "The witcher we'd been looking for,"

The vampire was heaving deep breaths because of his boiling wrath for the witcher; feeling a sudden need to feed was tempting him to calm down and he would. There were tons of maidens in the castle and he would take one or maybe a pair to satiate his hunger as always.

He rarely does this. Only when he was triggered or frustrated about certain things that kept his anger at bay.

"---Slaughtered all of my men for the sake of saving that little harlot," he continued with a grumble and a tight knot of his brows. The sorceress scoffed to the news that was given, expecting a successful gather of the women who were used as debts to serve the royalty or noblemen. "Even Terrowin?" she questioned with utter interest, raising a brow as she scrutinized the arms that surrounded the witcher who had ruined all of Tybalt's plans, "Even, Terrowin."

"Such a shame. He was one of the best horsemen for the king," Sorceress Ingrith tutted to her disappointment, sighing as the knight's death was nothing but a passing of the winds. Her wavy hair fell on her hips, swaying as she turned her head to watch you leave before loudly closing the partition.

"---But, not better than the witcher," the firm announcement was enough to tell Tybalt that the sorceress considered Geralt's skills as remarkable. She comfortably sat on her carriage and laid her glowing purple eyes on the vampire who had bowed his head as a sign of respect, "---Get me the witcher," she commanded with authority, "---and also the small maiden,"

Tybalt shook his head, a wince forming his features as he tried to get the witcher to accept his favors for years and years end. But, he was too obdurate. Never wanting to get involved by their hierarchy because of certain reasons he won't tell. The event that has happened was just a lucky shot for the vampire as it doesn't happen often, "He won't comply that easily because he has been avoiding us, my lady." Though, his opposition seem to be invalidated as she continued with a strong will to have the witcher walking to the path towards the castle, "---King Viduka must be mirthful for the news ahead," she ignored his statement, "---the prince will be healed soon,"

Sorceress Ingrith languidly blinked at Tybalt who was giving her a tight frown for her commands, "---As long as the witcher will be promising,"

The sorceress tutted for the second time, noting his foul expression that made her cross her legs as a sign that she was stronger and powerful than the latter; like her word is the law. She'd gave him a life back; even better than it ever did and now he wasn't hiding as he did back in his hometown.

Ingrith licked her cherry red lips and could feel the vampire's hunger grow more as she'd swiftly brushed her hair to the side, showing her delectable neck to him as a sign of approval to be used for his satiation again whenever it was full moon, "Use the maiden for him to comply," a sly smirk and a way to give him pleasure was all it took for him to nod in submission, "She...seems important for him to not hesitate and kill my men,"

The sorceress pondered in front of him, seeming to be in deep thought other than the fact that her men has been killed with just one man except for Tybalt because of his abilities. The latter languidly maneuvered till he'd given her no space in their carriage, their warmth embracing each other in a way that could get the devil laughing for their souls. "She...also feels different," Ingrith breathed in a deep breath, feeling Tybalt lean in close to that favorite spot of his on her neck, "What do you mean?" he mumbled against her neck, lightly giving a soft kiss to her sweet spot.

She exhaled a breath of pleasure as she felt his sharp, wet tongue licking a stripe from the line that connects her shoulder till the back of her ears as Tybalt groaned in satisfaction and from her delectable scent, "Her...Her body is an embodiment that makes me feel baffling," Another hitch of her breath. "What are you suggesting, Ingrith?"

"Give her to me when she comes to the castle," she firmly pressed and felt him sucking her soft spot that made her whimper, "---I just need to be sure,"

They hurriedly taken you to a healer and it was the right time because in any more minute you would've lost a lot of blood that can get death defying for a mere human like you. After bandaging you up and with Geralt's persistence that you should be taken home rather than to stay with a healer got you what he wanted. The healer has given herbs to be taken to numb the pain when it hits you like a train.

The princess wasn't doing good as well; mentally. Thinking that it was all her fault that they had to play hide and seek with the kids and happened to hide on a part of the town that had been deserted. Geralt reassured her that it wasn't her fault and she should stop crying because you wouldn't like it that she would be weeping for your selfless integrity; especially that he knew you were there in Cirilla's room last night, comforting the princess.

The witcher was actually impressed that it only took you hours for her anger to die down rather than him and Jaskier who managed to have a block of wood thrown to them as they coax her to stay calm.

Jaskier was sat on the witcher's bed where he has laid you upon; Cirilla was in her room and trying to relax from all the events that has happened. Geralt stood on the wall next to his door; his hefty arms crossed as he was giving the bard a scowl as he continued to pat your sweat-filled face.

The bard's ocean blue eyes gave him a once over, grinning in the process of his continuous soft pats on your temples because of how vicious he appeared to be.

Jaskier puckered his lips and gave a low chuckle; swiftly throwing the towel in the bucket of water. He shifted on his side of the bed and was face front towards the brooding witcher trying to drown in his own shadows. "Oooh, the scary face," the bard gestured with his index finger; drawing a circle far from his face before abruptly rising to his feet and ushering to you whom was resting on Geralt's bed; looking slightly dull from all the blood lost from you, "---Will you do the honors? It seems like you're throwing daggers behind my back as I clean her face with a face towel,"

The witcher grumbled a rough hum, his eyebrows raising as he lifted himself off the wall and languidly passed by Jaskier with a frown etched on his face. To Jaskier's surprise, Geralt dubiously sat on where the bard has been seated and reached out for the towel drenched in the bucket of water; mindlessly squeezing the excess with one hand before turning and actually planning to wipe those cold sweat running down your forehead.

The witcher ceased his actions before the towel even touched your skin. He'd cursed beneath his breath and deeply groaned to himself, scrunching his nose for his peculiar gestures, "You could've said something!" Jaskier crowed as a matter of fact and gave him the stink eye as he was restlessly cussing like a sailor.

He was just taking care of you because of the guilt that it was his fault for bringing you with them at the marketplace. It wasn't because his senses were telling him to do it because it was the natural thing to do.

There he was again, acting strange like he'd been when you've first arrived in their lives; offering to bandage your wounds for you when you could've done it without anyone's help.

Was this destiny fucking with him? He shouldn't have listened to the part where Durriken has spat shit about his destiny like he knew what was about to come.

The old man was probably inebriated when he had the talk with Geralt. Definitely had too much ale.

"You know what, Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly thought out loud, leaning on the wall where Geralt has been as he watched the witcher softly pat your forehead with the towel; like you were some fragile little thing. Though, the bard was sure he hesitated at first because it took him a minute of self meditation before cleaning to your aid, "This rat..." he trailed off as Jaskier had his arms crossed over his lean chest; voice solemn and with regret, "---I was actually frightened to have lost her,"

Geralt hummed in understanding to tell the bard that he was listening. But, his words made the witcher's bushy eyebrows knot together in intrigue; waiting for Jaskier to continue as he continued his gentle gestures; incapable of not studying your relaxed features as you slept.

You were at peace and utmost looking adorable as you slept, he was sure of that.

But, nobody needed to know his opinions about you. It was better kept unsaid because of the bothered feeling inside of him that wanted to swallow him whole; just like his soul, not like he even had one anymore.

The bard continued his comments and watched the witcher give care to another person without any second doubts aside from Cirilla and him. He never said it out loud but he does care for him, Jaskier was sure of it. That was just how he is, he never tells anything. Never wanted people to see through him because it would be a tough flaw. Other witchers grew old with having no emotions because of their brutal trials, but not Geralt. He had everything. The feeling of love, anger, lust, sympathy, joy, fear and a lot more. However, reading his emotions would be as difficult as to climb over that wall he was using for cover.

It takes years and expertise to read him like a book, and the bard knew that for sure.

Jaskier had a small smile written on his face as he honestly blurted out loud, "---But, not as scared as you happened to be,"

The witcher ceased his actions on cleaning your face. Jaskier's words echoing inside his head like a damn bell from a church. He languidly blinked and calmly breathed out of his nose at his accusations towards the witcher's feelings. Another feeling boiling that strange void inside his chest.

"You know that berk?" Jaskier managed to ask; completely unaware of the witcher deeply sighing before him. The bard held his chin as he looked at the ceilings; seeming in deep thought, "---If I remembered correctly, his name was Ty...Tyran---"

The latter evidently exhaled a deep; loud grumble of a name he started to hate since the moment he saw him again. His lips flashing a scowl in a way that says he wanted to burn the guy alive after all he's done, "Tybalt. He's a vampire feeding off the castle,"

Jaskier nodded as he lifted himself off the wall, puckering his lips as he hadn't let the thought process inside his head, "Oh, a vampire." Abrupt pause. Before his eyes grew thoroughly astounded, "---What?! You're not serious?! I thought vampires were much more...uglier and not looking like humans?"

"He's a more higher form of a vampire; much more higher than a Bruxa, Ekimmaras, Alps, or Katakans. A very rare species. It doesn't need blood to survive, but they drown in it preferably in full moon,"

The witcher straightened his back, hovering away from you as a soft, light snore resonated from your lips, putting back the towel inside the pail; thoroughly relaxed unlike when he had you in his arms, bleeding like a waterfall. It was a feeling he had been dreading as he'd already felt that fear before and the witcher didn't like it one bit as the hollow feeling that was knocking on his doorstep agitated him; thus, which leads to vulnerability that he never had after those events before you came along.

"He's the most trusted of the king," Geralt bluntly answered for the bard's question, trying to distract himself from those thoughts that would consume him like a never ending nightmare, "---Other than the sorceress leeching off the castle as well,"

Jaskier wandered across his room like he'd never before; he already did but he was trying to see if there was some new changes. Yet, there was none. Sadly.

"You know the sorceress?" The bard's question consists of shock, hearing Geralt tell him stories about the people in the castle like he'd known them when he never did. However, the way Jaskier said it seemed to be like it had a double-meaning, "---Of course, you do." he chaffed; voice lacing with sheer sarcasm.

Geralt gave him a look, shifting on his bed as he tried to force himself to shift his eyes away from you. It was the only time he could look at your face without you blushing like a virgin, "No, I don't." the witcher uttered; unenthusiastically.

"Well, that's a first!" the bard squeaked and stumbled from the witcher's sword that was leaning on a particular wall; snapping a lackadaisical glaze of his glowing golden eyes towards the bard who was muttering his apologies and actually hopping on one foot because it was heavy and it hurt his pinky toe.

Jaskier continued his hops of protest, ceasing once he'd heard the witcher surprisingly share something other than sparing one word answers to people's questions. He was finally sharing something other than the word 'fuck' or those displeased hums.

"I never wanted to get involved with their pestilential hierarchy," the witcher murmured, staring at the walls to his room. It had the same design as to what Cirilla had; but his was much more doleful. Technically, a room that couldn't give him comfort and warmth as he sleeps.

Geralt knew what happens around the kingdom. He knew how wicked and utter evil the castle can get; no matter how he tried to refuse their favors, he'd heard a lot of gossips about the king and queen, especially their son who happened to be the prince.

They were a family who outgrew the kingdom with fiend, corruption and selfishness. No kingdom has been perfect; though theirs were the worst of everything.

The witcher continued; heedful of the steady heartbeat of yours as you slept on his bed, "---It's their culpability to have a witch in wrath for their wrongdoings," he gruffly shared, a small smile creeping his face as he exhaled a sigh out of his lips; remembering the real reason why the prince was cursed; with jealousy being the actual reason of it all, maybe also a stab to the ego or dignity for the queen of Kaedwen, "--and I have no will to help people drowning in malevolence,"

Jaskier hasn't realized that he was gawking at the Witcher's back for so long as he talked; sauntering to the other side of the room where Geralt was as he weirdly eyed him with a judging look, "That's...the longest I've heard from you. It makes me want to shed a tear,"

"Hmm,"

The witcher's smile instantaneously fell at the ridicule that was sent. He firmly shook his head at the bard and huffed a breath before turning his head to inspect your state; calmly breathing like you had no worries in your life.

His lips straightened into a tight thin line, roughly saying his next words with those careless thoughts slipping out of his mouth and quickly staring back at the bard who was grinning, "The quicker we find a djinn, the faster she returns to her home,"

Jaskier's facial expression molded into disbelief. Exhaling one deep, heavy breath as he had his hands on his hips, eyes fluttering repeatedly from the words that left the witcher's lips like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Wait, wait, wait," he scoffed, "Why the sudden hurry, witcher?"

Geralt gave him a look that had hostility shading his eyes, "I thought you wanted me to help her?"

"I do, I do!" Jaskier nodded and uttered as a matter of fact before side-stepping till he was completely face front at the brawny witcher who had his normal grumpy face on show, "---But, I didn't thought you'll be tossing her away that easily,"

Geralt gave him a subtle frown, looking away from the bard as he sighed in tiredness because it seems like he didn't want her to go away as soon as possible; unlike the first day that Y/N appeared like a woman from the swamps; all soiled and dirty like she has been drowned by a Kikimore. "Do you really hear yourself right now? Are you sure you want her to leave?" it was a question he expected from the bard, yet a query he didn't want to hear from another person because it was frustrating him in some ways, "---After seeing you cradling her like a bairn, I suppose not."

The witcher ignored his protests and lowly emitted a groan that vibrated off his chest, his eyes sharp when it landed on Jaskier again. "She needs to leave," he sternly mentioned with emphasis and firmness. Jaskier noticed how the sentence was actually not for him, but actually for the witcher himself. He sounded like he was in need of thorough persisting about the fact that you needed to leave and so, the bard went on with his jabbers, "You don't sound too sure of yourself now, are we?"

Geralt hissed back, his brows in a tight knot; body posture turning rigid as he carried on. "Jaskier, she doesn't belong here. She never will," he gave a dour to his friend, "Have you seen what happened?"

"---and you handled it very well, might I add. Very heroic of you,"

"I can't always be available whenever she gets involved by whatever troubles she may bring,"

Jaskier lifted his eyes off from checking his nails, landing them on the rhadamanthine witcher who had a grim expression on his pleasing features, "Why do you sound scared?" he suddenly spat a question towards the upset trunk of a man. He'd seen how Geralt's nose scrunch in agitation, making the bard step back when the latter began to stand on his feet, towering before him with a nasty looking grimace, "It's because I am not, bard."

Jaskier probably struck a nerve this time because he was looking at him very differently; like he's done with everything; tired of even living.

He tried not to let him see how he swallowed the nervous jitters that stuck inside his throat; trying to confidently straighten his back as to not back down from his irk towards him, trying to stand for his point, "You always have a habit of shooing people away when you're actually already caring for the latter,"

Geralt's mouth twitched in exasperation; his annoyance coming out of his nose in deep breaths as he obviously struck a nerve.

"Jaskier."

Maybe, Jaskier's timing really did suck all the time.

Unaware of the witcher's piqueness and cynicism, the bard couldn't stop his mouth from trying to prove a point. Technically not disturbed that the witcher's nose was flaring in displeasure.

"Oh, alright! Whenever you're in the midst of questioning yourself, you always answer people with violence or brutally hurt their emotions!"

Jaskier didn't mean for it to go there. The bard's facial expression immediately scrunched to regret because of how it sounded out of his mouth. Harsh. Truly, it was better inside his head rather than being said out in the open. The bard couldn't help but flinch when Geralt stepped a cautious foot closer to him; his jaw tense and teeth clenching from complete vexation at what he has been saying. His golden eyes blazing in ire.

"What do you want me to do, bard?" he raved as he was trying to burn him with his death stares, "---What are you fucking implying?"

Jaskier has been avoiding his eyes at all costs, stepping back when the witcher stepped another foot close to scare him off; but the bard never does. He side-stepped to escape from his wrath when he was close to being cornered and opened his arms as he threw another fact that he'd already seen when he was with the witcher and his journeys before:

"Go on. Do your foolish actions by pushing her away or leaving a woman when she's in the right state of mind of being in her vulnerable best!" the truth was said without any pauses nor did the bard inhaled a breath, "---Treat the midget like how you've treated Yennifer and wait for her to leave you as well in the end because of your utterly boorish attitude!"

It was an utter mistake. Jaskier shouldn't have said that out loud because he could see fire burning behind Geralt as he heavily marched to where he was. He didn't intentionally wanted to mention Yennifer and what happened to his relationship with her before; and it was one ounce of patience that was snapped from the witcher himself when Jaskier began to even recall his mistakes in the past like having nightmares and that void inside his chest wasn't enough for his sufferings.

The bard shrieked as he dodged Geralt and slid under his arm; his lean body being an advantage from the wrathful witcher. "It...was a mistake! Although, it's not! I am sorry to have hurt your very much virile ego! You left Yennifer then! Not the other way around---Geralt!" Jaskier shrieked and contemplated whether or not to jump on the bed when he'd seen you laying with your bloody bandages; sequentially raising his arms in surrender and tightly closing his eyes shut for the blow; waiting for another strong punch in the gut for his rotten mouth.

Thanks to Cirilla who has entered the room, Geralt has ceased on choking the bard alive; sensing that the princess was irked by their foolishness as she entered with a frown on her face, "This is why you both must not be in the same room together," she scoffed and dashed her way towards where you were, seeing your bandages with blood made her upset yet again, "---I don't know when you're foolishly sharing banters or actually fighting already!"

The witcher was fiercely glaring at the bard, his cat eyes not helping the image that would certainly give Jaskier nightmares because he'll worry that Geralt would choke him in his sleep. Cirilla promptly sat beside your bed, scanning your wounded body as your eyebrows suddenly twitched together, straining your forehead in disturbance.

The bard continued his relentless, rational reckons while Geralt went on with giving him the stink eye. Your head was hurting with Jaskier's nonstop blabbers which adds more pain to your aching head as you felt a brisk, chilly wind caress your feet till it traveled in every part of your body.

You were breathing heavily. Dry chapped lips quivering like you were trapped outside the brumal night. Your consciousness knowing that your body was also trembling from the chills with a fever that came with the wound.

"Geralt," His child of surprise muttered, entirely alarmed by your noticeable quivers, "---She's shaking,"

Both men instantly snapped their heads from where Cirilla was. Geralt's senses catching your unstable temperature as he roughly spat coherent profanities; shaking his head. "Ugh--fuck,"

Geralt let out a baritone of a snarl which caught everybody's attention as he promenaded to where you rest. Cirilla promptly dragging herself out of your side as the witcher took place; covering your forehead with the back of his palm to check how hot you were.

You've keened before his touch; the witcher's hand so comfortable for you which aids to your shivers and sighing when he'd used his palm to check you better, a rough huff of breath escaping your lips as you've momentarily felt the warmth scurrying away.

The princess was kind enough to help Geralt, squeezing the excess towel out of the cold bucket of water. Her, being the good child she was; volunteering to wipe cold water all over your face. The witcher gave the child some space for her as you shivered like you were being thrown in a bath tub full of ice.

"---And now he cares again, ladies and gents,"

Geralt swiftly turned his head to Jaskier and gave him a scowl; thoroughly pissed off by his nonsense already and Cirilla did as well. Snapping back at the bard with tired pleads, "Jaskier, will you please?"

Soon, silence has engulfed the trio. The bard has already shut his mouth and actually pondered his regret on even uttering out those foolish things to the witcher with no reason. But, he'd given a little bit of positivity in it that maybe he'll actually consider that you weren't just an animal that he wanted to shoo away with no goodbyes.

Cirilla gave a soft sigh as she'd seen your shivering die down a bit; though, if you look closely, there was still some tiny quivering because of the cold wind coming from the opened windows.

She'd wondered out of nowhere, staring at the candle that was lit beside Geralt's bed before a shocking suggestion was said out loud to cease the trembles, "You need to hug her while she sleeps!" the princess excitedly announced like it was the best idea ever; standing in haste and spinning on her heel for effect to give her attention to the witcher who seemed to be staring back at her, unfazed.

"Hugs...aren't my forte,"

She raised a questioning brow at him, remembering how they hug whenever he goes somewhere and comes home safely, "She's having chills!"

Geralt sapped, languidly blinking back in exhaustion as he shook his head in negation, "It'll pass, princess."

Cirilla stubbornly crossed her arms; demanding in a way that sounded like how she was back in her castle, "Hug her!"

The witcher exhaled a long, heavy, perceivable breath. Sometimes, her requests could get to his head and make him want to just utter the deepest blasphemy he could ever say out loud. But, he always fought himself not to and tended to what she wanted as per usual before she throws woods at him again.

Geralt reached his arm out to gently pat on your arm, making your nose scrunch as you rested on his bed; wanting to wake up because of those warm pats on your arm, yet you had no power to as you wanted to continue and rest.

Jaskier and Cirilla stared at the witcher like he'd grown three heads, figuring out what the heck he was even doing. The witcher eyed them back with a look that tells them what was wrong.

"Is that a hug to you, Geralt?!" Cirilla managed to finally commented out loud in disbelief. Geralt shrugged his thick shoulders and cocked his head to the side, still tenderly patting you like he was dusting off some dirt on your clothed arm.

"It's close enough."

The princess of Cintra wanted to protest out loud, even wanting to start a petition about how patting someone on the arm was as close as to giving a warm hug for comfort, but no words were spoken as she massaged her temples like she was close to being stressed out already, "You're just patting her on the arm like an old man!"

Thus, it was Jaskier's time to shine. The bard took his time and started to tread towards where you were; "I can hug her, if you want? No malicious thoughts perceivable through the naked eye---" he was hastily stopped by the witcher who happened to clasp his strong fingers around his lean arms, ceasing him from circling around towards the space on the bed where he could give you a hug while you rest.

The ivory haired witcher gave another one of his snarls; voice grumbling so deep they could mistaken it as a growl, "It's my bed, bard." he lackadaiscally said, stating the obvious and that there was some kind of hindrance that shouldn't be stepped over.

Jaskier subtly gave Cirilla a once over, stopping himself from smirking as he tried to appear salty and just nodded back at the witcher. Leaving him to whatever solutions he had for you to stop from shivering.

Perhaps, finding a Djinn was not the best solution for you. It was a secret avant-garde for the witcher's heart as you started hopping inside that void with all smiles, ignoring the darkness that could possibly consume you as it was the only world he may bring.

Unbalance.

You felt like floating in thin air. Vision all blurry and hazy from an unspecified fog that made you squint your eyes shut as you walked into the sweltering path that had no possibility of reaching an end. It was murky and had no end; like a maze that give you entrance but promises that it has no return. There was voices reverberating like an echo in the deepest caves. Some voices were definitely unfamiliar and also sounding to be in rage while the last echo sounded a lot like Jaskier and Cirilla's laugh that made you snap your head towards where they were coming from.

Another delicate step along the path dusted in twigs, mud and rocks; the scene unexpectedly changed, bringing you to a glorious looking banquet. Scrumptious looking food plated in the most rakish way as strangers sat in front of you; their barbarous laughter and prattles completely opposite of how you were acting in the middle of it all. Thus, you've heard singing all around the place. Your curious self studying the whole setting as you noticed that you weren't in just some hostelry but rather in a huge great hall inside an unknown castle you've never seen before.

Your eyes immediately snapped to where the singing was all happening as you saw a familiar face who was strumming his lute with a smile. You've wanted to giggle at how he appeared to look ecstatic on entertaining everyone in the large room, yet from the moment you've opened your mouth; no voice could ever leave your lips.

One blink was all it needed for the event to change, seeing a silhouette of a man who stood beside you which caught your attention as your vision scanned the man who hurriedly snatched your cup of ale on your hands.

It was Geralt of Rivia and he was surprisingly dressed in something flamboyant that could keep him camouflage amongst the circle of people; though he appeared to be maddened by something as his golden eyes were flaring in hostility.

But, there was an eerie, disturbed feeling deep inside of you as he was smiling back at someone who he was toasting for. You wanted nothing but for him not to drink the liquor on his hands with no particular reason. The next two cups full of ale sat in front of you on the wooden table.

"For your imperishable, spectacular prosperity that runs in the castle," the witcher took a swig until it was empty as he gently lowered the cup with a soft thud. You've noticed the hesitance he held when it appeared to be like he didn't want to grab onto the second one; yet he still did as he gave you a once over with a strange, tender gaze that you weren't accustomed with.

You couldn't move, nor could get your fingers twitching as your head was the only thing motile. That eerie feeling molding into something greater; fear for what was about to come. Geralt grabbed onto the second cup of ale without blinking an eye, his smile falling for one second; only for you to see as he deeply stared onto the cup on his hands, "May...you have strength and faith for your majesty. For the fraudulent happiness you've always envisaged,"

Everybody was staring at the witcher who was giving wishes and you couldn't look at anywhere but Geralt who'd scoffed before chugging down the second round of ale. He'd subtly shook his head from whatever he was thinking, a forced smile lifting his lips that seemed phony.

"Your highness," he lifted the last cup for everybody else to see, giving a toothy grin as his smile consists of mischief and dread that only you could muster, "---and this...is for your son's shitless death to the fore,"

FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! Y’ALL ARE PROBABLY HATING GERALT RIGHT NOW. AHONHONHON. PATIENCE, BB’S. PATIENCE.

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007

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waterloou · 4 years

Text

BBC Merlin OC

Artemisia Bursi

Name: Lady Artemisia Bursi

Alias(if any): None

Class rank: Daughter of Duke Terrowin Bursi

Magic?: None

Love Interest: Sir Gwaine

Background: Artemesia grew up as nobility in the kingdom of Camelot as the daughter of a Duke. She befriended Arthur at a young age, but she always thought him rather daft. She always was scolded for her distaste of ladylike duties, instead choosing to make her servants spar with her after she’d sneak over to watch knights training. She never wanted to be a knight, she just thought it fun, even commissioned Gwen’s father to craft her a sword.

Personality: Slightly pretentious-a trait that seems to come with her rank. Stubborn, sarcastic, loves a good laugh. Often pulls pranks on her father, and is far too rowdy for the likes of her mother. She can be found watching the knights train or racing on her horse through the forest. Her parents had to hire someone to keep an eye on her because she’s very good at disappearing for a day or two without telling anyone.

Can they fight?: Not as well as she’d like to. She is a pretty good archer, though.

Tag: @randomfandoming1 @misshiraeth98 @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @ging-snapped @thecaptainsgingersnap @vivis-ghost-wife @foxesandmagic @perfectlystiles @wokenhardies @xmelia-pxnd

#oc: artemisia bursi #merlin oc #bbc merlin #sir gwaine x oc

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petirrojito · 3 years

Photo

Babbies all 100g but I can haggle o/

Terrowin - Gunnis - Vuraz

#flight rising #fr sales #dragon sales #talkin

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lgbtcafe · 4 years

Note

Names like Merlin, Aurelius, Gawaine and Orpheus please. Thank you, you're amazingly helpful

ooooh fancy! like ancient greek/arthurian/legend names

leonardo, reuvan, ignatius, horatio, peregrine, cassian, caspian, wrenleigh, luxander, julius, perseus, chiron, achilles, aegeus, hector, tybalt, terrowin, rowan, phillipe, constantine, amadeus

hope these are good !!

-mod avie

#order up!

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kaiju-z · 4 years

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Seon Adventures: Episode 32 - Chain of Command

There was a victory. A bitter, bitter, ugly victory, from wherein our heroes were left amidst piles of bodies, surrounding the lake of Stren.

From hundreds, if not thousands of dead, there were 34 survivors. Among whom were Dak and Kit. We come back to the scene as our heroes get their bearings of this ordeal...

Bodies. So many corpses. And among them, the party of five stand. Tired. Weary. Hurt. Covered in blood, gunk and lake shit. Stren’s gook sticking to the soles of their footwear as they ponder on where to carry on to from here.

A decision is raised. While half the party ;Belli, Jun and Mournimar go to the nearest town to get help with the bodies, Luctan opts to join Malak on the daunting task to bury the fallen. As long as it’ll take.

From Bavorum, the elite guard make smoke signals, signing that they are drawing near to the scene as the less armored trio, followed by the trusty Morgan go off, carrying Kit to the town of Askrivium.

Kit, who had been one of those luckily spared by the death curse. Kit, was slowly coming to, in her own cheeky way. Much to the amusement of Jun, who watches the half-orc bard bicker at the “sleeping” changeling rogue.

And while their group head for Askrivium, the two changeling having a little back and forth, the armored duo of Luck and Malak get to work. Steadily, taking shifts, on agreement, to do this deed.

2 hours pass. A large shadow comes over the horizon. That of the Darksbane Army, finally arriving at the scene, led by Laila Duststone. Joined by Terrowin the Half-Orc and Kraag the Orc Barbarian. Full force and mobilized, they approach the scene and one after the other, Terrowin and Laila talk with Luck and Malak.

Mournfully, Luctan retells the story of what happened, first to Terrowin, then to Laila. Each of whom at the very least are glad that the party is in full form, having lost no one among them. Laila encourages Luck to not blame himself over what had transpired, even as he does so.

Laila explains that the people, who touched the crystal orb will be gathering within a week to discuss what’s happening. Savron included. So it’s serious. Laila had come into contact with the crystal and born witness to what would happen.

Luctan wants to join them, if possible. But Laila declines, as they had done enough. She hands him a note with a certain number. A collective 25,000 Gold for the party, should they travel east next, before their work up north.

Still, the two holy fighters carry on with what they decided upon the end of the battle.

Among the bodies, a pondering Luck finds a familiar face. But it’s not who he was expecting. It’s one of the younger priests in the temple of Sa Doma. A tiny little Halfling woman.

The boys bond over sadness and emotions. Luck’s always here if Malak wants to talk.

Malak will remember this.

Luck tries to heal Malak. Nothing happens, but it’s the thought that counts.

Fastforwarding to Ascrovium!...

The squishy half of the party, and honorary member Kit, enter the grounds and... It’s a small town, definitely more of a stopping point for travelers than anything else. What’s shocking about the town, however, is the amount of people that are currently gathered.

The town is remarkably packed. These are families of people, who walked off in the middle of the night. Partners, etc .Everyone seems particularly tense, no one is sure where everyone is.

It is at this moment that Belli decides to bring out her Thaumaturgy stone and get everyone’s attention...

Without mincing words, she tells everyone what happened. How their loved ones were gathered at the lake. How tragiclaly most of them met their end there, if, but for 34 among them. A small light of hope in the constricting darkness.

Most of the crowd is in shock. Some just start running. 10-15 minutes later, the town is cleared from the exess folk, everyone that could afford to make a run, heading there immediatelly.

“This broughtcast was brought to you by Peppery Pete.”

Jun commends Belli for her way of handling the encounter. Belli thanks her, attributing her skill to it either being her maturing or adding another layer of trauma to herself.

... yeah....

They check for a possible morgue and find a thin Half-Orc girl, who guards the graveyard with a pike, for her aunt, who had gone to find her father. Possibly among the people, who met their end.

The party quickly assess that the graveyard is too small for the capacity of bodies. 10% of the bodies seen at lake Stren could probably fit in and that’s probably without counting the ones, already occupying the dirt.

Their group end up heading for the nearest tavern, discussing Ficus’ relationship status as Jun finds him handsome, but Belli protects her brother, claiming he is “spoken for”. Which brings Jun to ponder on Ficus’ thoughts on relationships of a kind.

As they take to a tavern, get cleaned and find their rest in their own respective way, the armored boys are still at it. 1 AM. They are still working. Aided by the army, but are still going about it and watching out, just in case someone tries to nick something from the bodies. Which almost happens. But Malak’s stern fatherly disapproval brings Kraag to return the watch.

Morning comes. One half of the party wake up and have breakfast. The other has been working all evening, through the waking hours and have exhausted themselves physically. But by gum, so much work had been done.

As Jun gets the diggers food in a basket, Belli checks with her brother, updating him on Kit.

Ficus had been running all night, after what Belli had told him previously, making his way to lake Stren. Which. Is probably a long way, given that he probably started off at a different location.

“Welp. I’m sure that won’t come back to haunt me!” - Belli says, before burrying her face in Orion’s fur. (gross cat noises commence).

The party reconnects at the lake, where Luctan and Malak finally get to eat, while catching up their party on what had occured, while they were gone.

Once done eating, they gather their things and travel by carriage eastward. Luck gives Malak permission to take the holy axe from the bag of holding and Malak attunes to it on the travel. While the boys have themselves a good long rest after what they had been through.

(Also Belli is Stress Knitting. Headcanon time: The reason why the party’s clothes tend to look mostly fine after battle, is because Belli fixes the cuts).

Over the next couple of days, the party bond over battle strategies and counters to what they had just witnessed and Malak learns about a bit more about the battle axe he now has in his possession. The axe, a union of Radience and Hellishness carries celestial runes, speaking of holy vengeance.

On the 3rd day of our travel, the group take a different road, ‘cause for some of them this has been a familiar road already. Along the path, they notice stables. 2 men posted outside the door. But it’s just some stables.

Suspicious, the group stops as night approaches.

And, while Mournimar speaks with Morgan and Orion, this is how the Cultbusters would meet Henry and Ronald, a cute couple, doing some sort of business (speaking in heavy New York accents)

Henry, the beefier of the two and Ronald, an orange haired man with freckled cheeks.

The two sides come together and agree on casting Zone of Truth on each other, as a means to learn about one another, so less suspicion could be had.

They are here to guard the room and it’s contents. They won’t say what the room they guard holds within it, but they won’t hurt the adventurers, if they don’t mess with the room.

The truth is being said. And Belli creatively speaks what she has to say. “You’re a tricksy little bitch and I like you!” one of the men admits, under the effects of the spell and Belli just has a laugh. She wants no drama.

Also, like it has to be said, but Henry finds Malak a pretty man. (We all do, but come on).

Once everyone gets coasy with one another, the party and the couple of Henry and Ronald join together for a happy dinner together.

The food is nice. The mood is high. Henry and Ronald seem to be delightful. Complimentary as heck about Belli’s cooking. The lads are the poifect gentlemen, basically.

Once the dinner is done, the party find places to spend their longrests in, but before the actual long rest occurs, Luck pulls Belli aside and suggests she send a bug-shifted Orion into the couple’s room. Just to be sure they were on the up and up.

Something felt off this night and he wasn’t sure what.

That was the gameplan!

And as the night progresses...

Luctan goes into his dreams again. Like multiple times before.

And... things happen. Sad things. And he sleeps.

In the meanwhile, Jun also has a dream of her own. Whether it’s anything like Luck’s is it’s own story.

In the middle of the night, something happens. 6 hours in, as the party have had their full rest, the flutter of wings awake Henry and Ronald, the latter of whom silently calls over Belli to witness what they were seeing.

.What Belli joins in on watching...

Is 5 imps.

Carrying Luck away. Each holding a limb, the 5th his head.

And Luck is sleeping.

Belli gets Mournimar’s attention and the digitigraded tiefling bolts through the door, upon hearing that. Screaming his loudest “WTF?!”

Which wakes everyone up.

Belli wastes no time. And casts Sleep on one of the imps, causing it to let go of one of Luck’s arms as it drops on the ground.

ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!

All the commotion that follow brings a red flash behind the board.

Just behind said board, a red creature with curled horns and 4 chains being wrapped behind it appears, hovering behind the imps. Glaring at the group.

Belli casts Polymorph on Luck. But Luck, sleeping, unfortunatelly counters it.

Annoyed, Belli chants a Vicious Mockery on one of the imps, while Chain Devil takes a stance.

Moves in close and attacks most of the party with his chains.

One chain smacks Jun and she gets restrained, grappled. Unable to move form her spot as the sickle at the end of the Devil’s chain stabs into her.

Another chain grapples Malak and a third misses Mournimar, which luckily takes the tension off of Belli as the 4th chain goes for the archer, stabbing hinto him like with the other two.

Jun uses all her acrobatic skill to free herself and do so easily from the chains. All her time as a dominatrix pays off as that is an easy feat for her. She immediatelly Hexes their attacker and moves in, ready to attack with her Gambler’s Blade.

And Luck’s still asleep.

Sadly, Mournimar isn’t as flexible as Jun and can’t find freedom from the chains. So instead, shouts at the Fiend in Infernal. He DEMANDS to know where they are trying to take Luctan.

This distraction gives Malak the chance to attack the imps, without having to move. Malak casts Toll The Dead on the imps on the right. While one is more stable, the other’s head outright explodes.

Because... “For Whom The Bell Tolls, Time Marches on.”

And before you ask, YES! THIS IS A DBZ REFERENCE!

Luck’s leg is free as Malak brings out his Spiritual Weapon. And smashes it into the nearest imp he can see, the sleeping one, messing him up visibly.

As the remaining 3 Imps try to escape with Luctan, Belli runs around from the other entrance of the barn and casts Dispell Magic on Luctan, putting all her Arcane skill into it.

And Luck wakes. glaring at his captors.

Your friends don’t care about you, they only like what you can offer them.” She gives an imp Anxiety. How much anxiety? Well, it straight up dies. So that’s the amount!

The Chain Devil attacks Jun again. Misses. Then grabs her and pierces her body with his thick hook again, causing bodily harm to the changeling. As she, Malak and Mournimar take continual damage from the chains wrapped around them, Mournimar’s pain response kicks in and he casts Hellish Rebuke at the Fiend.

Much to his shagrin, however, that doesn’t work out. As the devil is not even tickled from this effort.

It’s form starts to shift. It’s face taking a resemblence to Harker, Mournimar’s father, as he had last seen him. Face mangled. Burned. Aching.

The stress seems to be too much... but Mournimar steels his mind to the mental attack of the Devil. He will not be fooled by the mental projection of this Fiend!

Jun escapes. Again. Takes her rapier and dramatically cuts her thigh open.

After last night she got brave. Bringing forth an electric stabbing upon the Devil with the power of her Blood Rites.

Luctan Teleports behind the devil, swings twice, misses. But then strikes a gash at the back of the creature.

And Luck heals Jun some. In Infernal, he tells the Devil to leave.

Mournimar struggles to free himself and Malak acknowledges that, casting Freedom of Movement on Mournimar. And then attacks the Devil with the Spiritual weapon, clobbering onto him.

The imps try to attack Luck from behind. But neither manages quite to get purching on the fighter/sorcerer’s armor, pathetically gnawing at the material. But nothing much else.

Belli attempts to dispell one of the chains, the one holding Malak. And succeeds, after which she mocks again. “You’re a cowardly little cunt. You will die alone and no one will love you.” sending waves of psychic damage to the fiend.

Frustrated, he looks between the two tieflings. It looks between Mournimar and Luck and finally speaks, determined: “ He’s coming home. Now!”

As Malak gets freed, Jun gets snatched up again and soon Luctan catches the bane of the chains on his body.

Unlike Luck, however, all the pain causes Jun to go limp and unconscious in the grasp of the metal, much to Luctan’s shock.

The Devil shifts his face again, glaring at Malak. Taking the form of one of his late comrades.

But Malak is used to this sort of thing by now. He’s seen far worse in his nightmares. So he keeps his mind strong and defended.

As the two get carried away, Luck notices life in Jun’s unconscious frame, giving him strength to free himself from the chains, one of which goes limp. Then Luctan wakes her up again, wishing some vitality into her form, while Mournimar brings out his arrows and Marks the devil for the Hunt.

Fires, misses twice, but that’s quite ok.

Malak attacks, but misses by a few inches as his powerful Guiding Bolt blasts elsewhere.

He still has an attack, however, splatting one of the remaining imps.

Scared and alone, the singular awake imp turns invisible. And the party knows not where it’d go. (DAMN YOU, COTTON EYE JOE!)

Which is bad, because it stings Jun. Who almost drops again.

Ah. But in this moment you forget about the bard.

NO ONE DARE FORGET ABOUT THE BARD!!!

With Jun’s consent, Belli transforms Jun...

Then she mocks the Devil. “Luck’s our friend. If you’re that lonely just drill a hole in the wall.” But the Devil takes it in stride.

“He’s not my friend. I serve him. He just doesn’t know what’s best for him right now.” Luck gets smacked around. Hard! And this chained hellman starts to chant in a mix of Infernal and Arcane.

As the Devil tries to teleport away with the grappled Luctan, a thick shadow comes from his left. And before he can react, the Chain Devil gets chomped on by a monochromatic Spinosaurus Seonipticus.

As Belli draws closer, Jun gets the HDYWTDT with her Jawsy-Wawsies. And she tears him to shreds.

Very easily she shreds this Devil and gently plucks the chains off of Luck’s body. And puts him down on the ground. The duality of Jun. She will tear you asunder, but she will also bleed on you and be nice.

As for the last of the awoken imps... Jun distractedly swings her tail and the Imp just gets punted into Hell. All that is left is a splatter on the wall, before Belli turns Jun back to her general fine self.

As Luctan and Jun catch their bearings,Malak and Mournimar join the bard over the body of the sleeping, if fucked up, imp. Deciding on a gameplan on questioning him, Belli stabs it through the foot.

Which. Um. Unfortunately kills it?!

Moments pass. Henry and Ronald still inside, the group convenes around Luck to get a better idea of what just happened. Jun asks the disguised tiefling if he’s ok, keeping an eye on him as she asks. He is. Feels oddly free. And he heals Jun once again as he confirms.

When asked to explain what this was all about, how the Devil knew him, where it was planning on taking him, a tired and less reluctant Luck encourages them to think of what he’s already said about himself.

“I’m not from Seon. I ran away from home after freeing my mother’s slaves. A Chain Devil and Imps tried to take me “home”.”

Belli and Malak begin putting two and two together real fast. They would know that the things the party just saw and dealt with were and are devils, not demons. Devils serve Potencia. Demons serve Quorrin.

With a tired smile, Luctan admits it.

“I guess, I’m the son of Potencia.” and he says this, his gaze never faltering from Malak’s face.

He proceeds to give them the briefest description of his recent interaction with her, in his dreams. Meeting her in her office. In a form he hadn’t often seen her in. Her disappointment in him for not allout killing the Traveling Gentlemen. Having expected “better” of him.

Wanting him to become an Arch Devil to one of the hells, who’s leader was missing. His refusal. And then, her doing something, before he woke up, being carried away.

And he looked at Malak, the whole time, having taken off his ring during the talk.

Whatever Malak was thinking, he was keeping inside and away from any insight that could be made on him.

Jun acts very flustered at first, when Luck spills the beans as he does. She had seemingly been in contact with someone and mentions “The Evenchord Boy”, something that subtly catches Luck’s attention...

As Luck takes a moment to catch his breath again from what happened, he takes a seat on the ground. Mournimar and Belli, surprisingly, were encouraging of him. Rather than judginess from Mournimar, given said Ranger’s history with the cult of Potencia and Luctan’s heavy connection... He had expected an earful. At the fucking least. But that hadn’t happened.

Luck could all but laugh. Pitifully laugh and ponder. More surprisingly, Jun would kneel beside him, arm over his shoulders and offers him an ear to listen to his troubles if he needs it. Somehow she understands. However that works, she understands and makes it a point to tell him some important words:

“Your roots don’t make you. You make you.”

Then he receives a kiss on the forehead from the changeling woman as he slowly realizes that he may have human relatives somewhere...

After a night of devilry and a slight argument with the duo of Henry and Ronald, the party finally get their second long rest. It would become revealed that Henry and Ronald were actually clerics, possibly of Dyunificus, who were protecting a bunch of kids and silver foxes and were keeping them secret from the party (understandably so) as Adventurers came in many moral colors.

Belli would pay them to ease their tensions, too tired and frustrated from the combat to argue with the men.

Some time passes again as the party carries on on the road. Luctan often looking to Malak, but giving him space.

Eventually they’d draw near to Crystalgate.

And take shifts in a campsight of their making.

1st Luctan, 2nd Jun, 3rd Malak, 4th Mournimar. All this to help Belli have a full rest to prepare meals in the morning.

Sure enough, the night is peaceful and when Belli gets her turn, she makes a perception check... She sweeps the area and-

She feels pretty alright, as she cooks. “These times are easy to appreciate the world. All six of us are safe.”

SIX?!

Wait. Something’s wrong. She looks and at the fire is an half-elf man with strong black curly hair. Deep brown eyes in the campfire light. Dark skin? He’s relaxed and casually pokes at the fire with a stick.

“Hi?!”

“Oh, Morning.”

“Oh, you can wake the rest of your friends, if you’d like. I believe we have some catching up to do.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Akar’niel.”

Belli wakes the rest of the party and, well. He introduces himself to the group.

For the most part, it seems that he knows the names, though he’s not quite as familiar with Jun and Malak, nor does he seem to be aware of Luck’s true name.

He knows what the party have been doing and have been up against. He represents a higher power.

Before he disappears in purple smoke, he whispers something.

Luctan would look at his journal and read the mantra that he had sewn into the pages:

“ When the Western Fields lie sundered, blackened with ash.

When Lake Stren turns red with the blood of your allies

When brother turns against brother in the North

When the Giants of the East flee from demons bigger than they

When the Council lie with their throats slit

That is when I will come for you. And it will be the End."

And as the episode ends, the party levels up.

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