#Villem

[nat-of-lyria]

This trend is so sad ( so I had to do this with TB) ❤️🥲

[dukeofdogs]

GWENT: Thronebreaker | Cover Concept by Łukasz Poller

“Once I had the pleasure to realize the concept of the cover of The Thronebreaker game.

Lots of ideas sketched, then a few repaints on the final background and character ink, are my work

The first idea was to make it as close to the game style as possible, then eventually most of it was done in 3D and then repainted. 

I'm very happy with the concept

Art Direction: Rafał Nagiecki Inking: Olgierd Ciszak, Łukasz Poller Final Render: Promo Art Team CD Projekt Red, Ernest Kośka, Łukasz Wiktorzak, Aleksander Bieroński“

[aljordandraws]

Going back to making art for Gilded Cage and its larger au Glimmering Ballrooms. First on the menu, actually drawing Villem.

[windflowerofskellige]

Chapter 5 of Gilded Cage

To all the people who care about such things I have updated Gilded Cage. There has been a change in the tags for an archive warning (Major Character Death) this does NOT happen in this chapter but it's there because as I was plotting that came up and I needed to update the tags accordingly.

You can read Chapter Five — Schemes on AO3.

News from the Temerian Secret Service gives Arabella an idea. Meanwhile on a walk through the garden Villem begins to prod a little too close into the well laid plans she is conjuring up causing the mask to crack and her feelings of being out of the loop and underestimated to leak through the surface.

[witcherrarepaircommentexchange]

ship:

Villem/Original Female Character(s)

fic:

Gilded Cage by ALJordan

The year is 1274 and Arabella of Temeria is the Northern Realm's most influential menace. Nilfgaard is advancing on Sodden's border and she has to start considering marriage; after all she's already sixteen and alliances aren't going to forge themselves. Finding romance in a court marriage is the name of her plan.

[pumpkincalico]

my biggest achievement in thronebreaker is using the villem card to steal nilfgaards fire scorpion ballista and ever since then ive had the mental image of him just grabbing the whole thing and jumping to lyria’s side 😭😭

lil reel too 

[murderspice]

looking at the wiki after finally finishing thronebreaker really threw me for a loop this morning guys

[lesser-known-composers]

Villem Kapp (1913-1964) - Põhjarannik.

ERSO ja RAM. Conducted by Neeme Järvi.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 27

gascon/villem, background meve/reynard

Gascon's impulsive, mischievous dedication to the crown prince at a tournament leads to something vulnerable between them. content warning for referenced past underaged sexual assault. also, this assumes gascon's canon age is correct so in the context of this fic villem is ~18 and gascon ~19.

It's a whim at a tournament that starts it off.

It’s the sort with jousting and duels and girls hanging off balconies to toss their favours to preening knights, who in turn loudly dedicate their brawls to ladies of their choosing.

Lyria's treasury has been stretched thin the past year by the efforts of rebuilding the war-torn land, so the affair is less grand than it may have been. But there is dancing and feasting and spirits are high. It has been a full year since the Peace of Cintra restored liberty to Lyria, and its people are intent on celebrating appropriately.

Reynard stands stiffly at the royal dias before the start of a round of duels and solemnly dedicates the very breath in his lungs to his Queen. Publicly, the pair are so coy and bashful about their apparently secret courtship that their endearment with one another is all the more obvious. 

The Queen leans over the wooden railing and tucks her handkerchief into the collar of his gambeson, her fingers lingering a moment to inspire the hard bob of his throat.

The crowd titters and coos, but the couple seem unaware, caught up in one another.

Gascon wishes someone would come up behind Meve and push her, so they’d just publicly lock lips already instead of drawing out the farce, as though they don’t sneak into one another’s beds after dark.

He’s pleasantly tipsy and feeling mischievous and trips over himself to hurry to the dias, though partway there he changes his mind about publicly assaulting the Queen and decides on making his own scene instead. 

He gestures to Villem at his mother’s side and begins a spiel similar to Reynard’s dedication but brazen in its affected melodrama. The prince sits placidly with his hands folded in his lap, his golden curls tousled by the breeze, but as Gascon’s speech goes on, dedicating his left toe and his earwax and his solar plexus to the prince, the boy’s cheeks go pink with the attention. 

Or maybe just with the wind. But for a moment, Gascon looks, and he sees how Villem’s beauty echoes Meve’s, though he is feather-soft to his mother’s hard edges. 

He's never considered the boy like that before. Never thought much of him at all. The crown prince has a peculiar propensity for disappearing into the background. In another life, he could have been a good bandit, Gascon thinks, paying him very close attention now.

Maybe it’s the drink or some spirit of the gathering, but when Villem rises to approach him and offers out his own handkerchief, gratefully appearing amused over his antics rather than offended, Gascon bypasses the scrap of a snot-rag to kiss his offered hand.

The boy’s wide-eyed surprise and the part of his lips inspires a strange urge to see him look that way again, to fluster and bemuse him, to hold his interest.  Their fingers brush as he accepts the fine silk and stuffs it into his belt to flutter in the breeze.

Despite having little in common and no reason to linger on thoughts of the prince before then, Gascon’s eyes return again and again to the royal dias. Each time, he finds Villem watching. Owing to his distraction and general disinterest in sweaty, formal brawls where biting is soundly discouraged, he’s thoroughly knocked out of the tournament in its first round.

Villem stands to applaud him even so, his eyes bright.

Gascon thinks, tread lightly, you no good scoundrel, Meve’d have your head.

An open air banquet follows the tournament. He promptly drinks an ill-advised quantity of ale directly from the foaming tap of a cask and ignores his own warning. Courtesy and decorum and good sense ignored, he stumbles to plop himself on the bench beside Villem at the royal table. 

He leans precariously into the boy’s space and makes some crude comment about his freshly-dedicated possession of his little toe, curious of Villem’s response, and is dumbfounded when it is the prince who touches a soft hand to his thigh beneath the table and suggests they slip away early.

Even drunker than he’d like, Gascon is an expert in sneaking unnoticed into the dark, and Villem, for all his princely air, has spent much of his life overlooked and disappears just as easily. 

They make it just as far as they need to, sequestered down an alley between tournament tents.

Gascon is surprised once more, when it’s Villem who reaches for him first, who leans to kiss him with hands framing his hips. The prince is perfumed-sweet and warm and suddenly far broader through the shoulders than Gascon can recall. Had he always been a hair taller? Who had taught him how to kiss deeply with such confidence and skill?

He pulls back a moment, breathing heavily, and stops Villem’s bold hands as they unlace his trousers. Even in the dark, he sees the prince frown, inquisitive, and when he asks, Gascon must confess his most unlikely secret.

That for all his lewd bravado and years of seemingly debauched banditry, he’s never done such a thing before. He’s had his share of kissing and groping, of course, but never more than that. 

Well, he had once-- in a way, though he tells the tale with trepidation. Villem frowns more deeply as he whispers, and his hands slip around Gascon's waist to quietly hold him. He’d been only two years an orphan, working a stone mill for some sour old bastard who came back from the tavern one night and– 

Gascon scoffs at Villem’s sad eyes and assures him the bastard learned his lesson. Never done the deed since. He does not say that the miller only met his dagger years after. 

It’s all very maudlin and dull, so he leans up to resume their kissing. Villem stops him, touches his mouth to his brow instead, soft hand at his jaw as he assures him that such a violence can hardly be measured on the same scale as more pleasurable pursuits. At Gascon's doubt of Villem's personal knowledge of such things, he recounts his varied and elaborate experiences at temple school. 

Always suspected they were sordid places of debauchery, says Gascon, who thinks how at thirteen, Villem’s first giggling tumble with an older boy at school had coincided neatly with Gascon’s first kill at the same age. 

Surrounded by revelry, he’s had ample opportunities for rolls in the hay but always found ways to weasel out of suggestive conversations, never overly taken with anyone enough to consider more, never trusting even his Strays in that way. Not for something so vulnerable. 

How unlikely, to confess such a closely held thing to a boy he barely knows. Perhaps they put something in the ale. More unlikely still is that Villem responds with sober sincerity and sworn promises whispered against his hair. That if he were allowed to do so, he would demonstrate to Gascon how pleasurable vulnerability could be. 

They stand there together and the moon slips out from the clouds, and Villem's arms don't feel smothering around him and they kiss there for a long while, ignoring that the spill of moonlight no longer hides them away from wandering eyes.

No one encounters them together that night nor the many nights after.

And none would suspect the dynamic that unfolds behind closed doors. The unseemly bandit undone by Villem’s praise-heavy whispers, uncalloused fingers tightening in his curls as Gascon kneels at his prince’s feet and warms through his whole body over the repeated pleasure-drunk slur of good boy, just there, good boy.

It’s a whim that starts it but certainly no whim that sees it go on and on.

[geraltisahorsegirl]

I've always ended up having to choose to send either Gascon or Reynard to die at the end of Thronebreaker and it breaks my heart either way, but I literally just found out that if you choose the right options earlier on you can send Villem instead.

I'm replaying and I'm going to throw him under the bus so hard for the sake of the world's most dysfunctional throuple. Good night sweet prince, you die so a grumpy old man, an alliteration obsessed thief, and a girlboss by divine right can all live together happily ever after

[theprincessofbears]

Day 8 - Heir

"And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand"

[pumpkincalico]

*teenage dirtbag plays in the bg*

[sebdoeswords]

really wish some of the witcher games' actions and consequences weren't completely arbitrary and unforeseeable

[windflowerofskellige]

For character bingo:

Prince Villem

and/or any OC of your choice!!

Prince Villem coming right up!

I love him so much actually Gilded Cage does NOT do enough justice to him. I love him more than life himself and Thronebreaker fans are actually really so fucking mean to him??? He's just a teenager??? Chillax???

[lesser-known-composers]

Villem Kapp (1913-1964) - Symphony No. 2 (1955)

1. Grave - Allegro risoluto 2. Adagio espressivo (10:48) 3. Allegro (17:53) 4. Allegro risoluto (22:05)

BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted Neeme Jarvi

[limerental]

it seems to be the fandom norm to reject gascon's canon age because yeah it is pretty weird and inconsistent for one of the top royal advisors to be 17/18. that seems like a stretch.

but I also find it really funny as a concept like imagine meve immediately after their convo in the cemetery doing some quick math on her fingers and going. well. I've been taking strategic military advice from a child. for months. :|