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daddyy333 · 1 year

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Geralt of Rivia Fluff

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 2.6k

warnings: reader is injured at the beginning, reader is wounded, reader gets stitches (I think), clingy geralt, ?

summary: Never in your wildest dreams did you think Geralt of Rivia would turn out to be the clingiest boyfriend you’d ever had

When you first started your relationship with Geralt- actually, scratch that. When you first met Geralt you thought he was the furthest thing from clingy. He barely even spoke, much less touched you or even looked in your direction really.

After he fell out with Yennefer, he met you. He was planning to just stay in this small village for a few days and rest, knowing he had to keep moving so no one would find him and Ciri. That was until he stumbled upon you.

He found you running from some odd and probably hungry monster, looking to feed…on you. Possibly one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen. You looked quite out of place, your light pastel purple skirt gradually getting covered in dirt as you tried to escape the creature.

You yelped as you tripped over a branch, sobs racking your body as you fell face first into the dirt. You groaned, cursing frantically through sobs, trying to crawl away from the creature.

“fu- FUCK!” You said as the creature drug his claw across your thigh. You cried out, whimpering as you finally accepted your fate. Suddenly, right when you feel it’s stinky, hot breath on you it disappears just as fast.

You couldn’t see what was happening, back facing upwards and your face still buried in the ground. You felt a man’s hands on your waist and you screamed, curling tighter even though it caused more pain to pulse in your thigh.

“Miss, I’m the one who just saved your life. I’m…a Witcher. Even if you hate me right now, I’d like to help you if that’s alright?” He said as he walked in front of you bending down so you could see him. You whimpered as you said “p-please don’t hurt m-me”

“I’m not going to. I just need you to cooperate and I promise you’ll be just fine in a little while” he said and you nodded. He scooped you up and plopped you on his horse, making you cry out in pain.

“Can you…mmm- b-be gentle?” You asked and he sighed. He mumbled an apology and started leading Roach back to his lodgings that he found sufficient for a few days.

You had passed out then, and he realized that his poor excuse for a tourniquet failed. “Shit,” he said and laid you on his bed, pulling your skirt off to help him treat you better.

“Oh gods, what the hell is this?” Ciri asked and Geralt sighed. He poured a disinfectant on your thigh as he said “found her being chased by a monster. Did my job. Now I’m helping her” “why didn’t you just find a doctor to do it?” She asked, setting her bag of fruits down and beginning to wash them.

“Don’t have the coin for it. Why so many questions, Ciri?” He asked and she shrugged. She looked over and said “I don’t know, just…feels unusual” “she needs help. I’m providing it” he said and Ciri nodded, chuckling.

He treated you to the best of his abilities and waited for you to wake up, going out and chopping some wood to fill his time and also training with Ciri a bit. When he came back inside it was nighttime and you were still sleeping.

He knew you weren’t dead, he could hear your heartbeat faintly and you weren’t super pale anymore. He walked over and shook you lightly, trying to wake you up. “Miss?” He asked, and you still didn’t budge.

He sighed and then nearly jumped when Jaskier busted in, a little drunk admittedly. “Ohhhh Geralt!” He sang, stumbling in. Geralt sighed and stared at him, hoping Jaskier wouldn’t cause too much trouble because he needed to look after you.

You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes and coughing a few times. You tried to sit up but moving your thigh cause immense pain. “Ahh!” You groaned, trying to figure out what the hell happened.

“Hi, Miss. Are you alright?” Geralt asked and you jumped slightly. You looked around frantically and then said “w-where is my skirt?” You asked and he cleared his throat. He showed that it was on a table and said “I had to take it off to treat your wounds”

You looked down at your thigh and winced, gently touching it and moving the bandage. “Thank- th-thank you” you said, looking up at him. Jaskier walked over with a smirk on his face and said “and who are you-” “Jaskier,” Geralt scolded softly.

“Y/n…of Aedirn” you said and smiled a little. You noticed a look of confusion on his face and you understood why. You were in a far away village near Creyden, why? “Julian Alfred Pankratz?” You asked the brown haired gentleman and he smiled. He nodded and said “that would be me. Viscount of Lettenhove”

You nodded and looked up at the white haired Witcher, sighing. “Uhm…Rivia…Geralt?” You asked and he nodded, a small smile on his face. Ciri had came out of her room and scoffed at the interaction. “Are you blushing?” She asked and Geralt shot a stern look her way.

“You should be asleep” he said and she shook her head. “Jaskier woke me up” she mumbled and he gasped. He ran over and hugged her as he said “I deeply apologize, my little pocket sized princess. Oh, you should get your beauty sleep come on”

You chuckled a little at the interaction and Geralt bent down to your level. His gaze made butterflies swirl in your stomach. “How are you feeling?” He asked and you sighed. You look down at your leg and said “sore. And dirty” “would you like me to help you with a bath? I would leave you alone but I don’t think you’ll be able to walk properly for a while” “I appreciate it. Yes, thank you” you said and he got to work.

He ended up staying for longer just to care for you and you told him your story. Your parents turned you away because you were secretly harboring magical abilities behind their back and they had strong opinions against that. You’ve been running around all over the continent trying to figure out where’s safest but it’s been tough and technically your homeless.

But he was so infatuated with you he wasn’t really thinking when he said “travel with me. And Ciri of course, and sometimes Jaskier” You shook your head and insisted you couldn’t, you would only be a bother. He insisted instead that you come along.

He was a man of mostly few words, and kept to himself quite a bit. You spent a lot of time with Ciri. You would teach her to cook, help her control her chaos, braid her hair, and even tell her stories of your travels before you met them. The two of you almost seemed like mother and daughter at times but neither of you noticed. You just felt like best friends.

You had to admit, Geralt was a beautiful man. When you caught him shirtless once, you nearly fainted. He was just so handsome, and you wanted to kiss every scar on his body till he forgot about them.

But you thought you never stood a chance with him. You knew about what happened with Yennefer and assumed that because of that you wouldn’t be able to have any romantic relationship with him. Even if you tried, you think it would be rude because of how much happened between them. Truly you are still convinced to this day that they are soulmates, and he would drop you in a heartbeat if she came back and wanted to try again. But that’s a story for another day.

Months go by, you’ve completely healed so long ago you don’t need to burden them any longer with your presence but you feel so welcomed and safe with them. However, after about a year or so you’ve started to think that maybe it would make things easier if you went off on your own again, like it used to be.

You packed your bags and made your way to the lake where Geralt was fishing from. “Hey,” you said, walking up to him. He looked over at you and grunted in response. “I uh…I’ve been thinking and I’m gonna go out on my own again. I’ve been healed for months and I don’t need to stay and bother you any longer. Im grateful fo-”

“Stop,” he said, putting down his net. He shook his head and said “what are you talking about? You are not leaving” “Geralt…I-I was only supposed to travel with you until my leg healed and it’s been over a year. I’m okay now. The less people you have to travel with the easier, so I thought maybe I’d-”

“No. You can’t go. You can’t- do not go. Y/n, why do you say such stupid things?” He asked and you shook your head. You scoffed, shaking your head as you said “why do you care so much? I’m just some strange, homeless woman you met a year ago and just so happened to save from a really stinky monster”

“You’re- why do you think so little of yourself? Stop talking about this nonsense, I don’t want to hear it” he said and you rolled your eyes. You folded your arms and said “so what? I cant go because you say so” “Ciri needs you! I ne- mmm. Go back inside, you’re not leaving” he said and you gasped.

He looked away, obviously shy and embarrassed and you blushed instantly. Did he really mean that? “Geralt…” you said and he ignored you. You walked over in front of him but he still wouldn’t look at you.

You cupped his cheeks and said “what were you going to say?” “I- I can’t. It’s- it’s not fair to Ciri” he said and you sighed. You looked over his facial expression and let go, slowly walking away. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

He decided to just say it in case he never got the chance again, even though he was scared. “I need you, y/n! Alright? There, I said it” he said and groaned as if he was annoyed. You smiled then, just slightly as you stopped walking, butterflies swirling in your belly.

“I thought you didn’t need anyone?” You said as you walked over again. He looked away, feeling so embarrassed he could run away. You almost couldn’t tell, just a small furrow between his brows aside from his usually stoic expression.

“I also said I didn’t want anyone needing me but now Ciri doesn’t get to leave my side and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I guess I lied. And I need you.” He said and you nodded, taking a deep breath. You looked over at what he had already caught and said “alright, fine”

You began to walk away and yet again he pulled you back, pushing you against a tree as he cupped your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other. He looked scared, and you were just about to tell him he didn’t have to do this but then he kissed you and your mind blanked.

He slowly and gently licked into your mouth, connecting your tongues as he caressed and squeezed your waist. You were blushing and smiling so hard as your tongues swirled together, his warm hands making the butterflies in your belly worse.

You pulled away, feeling your face was going to explode and he was only making it worse. “What?” He asked as you stared at him. You giggled and said “you’re smiling,” “no, I’m not” he said and blushed, kissing you again.

He never stopped touching you after that day. You tried to keep this new relationship from Ciri but not a week later she caught Geralt embracing you as you made breakfast. He knew you were upset at him, but he couldn’t help the grin on his face as you scolded him, knife pointing towards him with your hair in a messy bun from when you slept and your nightgown still draping over your beautiful body.

She seemed a bit confused about it, clearly distracted during lessons and keeping to herself for a while after that. You never heard the end of it considering Geralt lingered around you quite a bit and had become so talkative as he got more and more comfortable with you everyday.

Eventually she warmed up to your new relationship, especially since she was seeing it all the time everywhere every day. He couldn’t keep his hands off you to save his life. Quite literally, he almost got seriously injured trying to get you away from one of the many monsters he's fought and killed.

And now, it’s high noon and you’ve been stuck in bed underneath a giant white haired man. A little sex, and a lot of cuddling has gone on in the last 16 or so hours. You assume at least. You’ve been too busy with Geralt.

“You know, I thought when we started seeing each other romantically that we wouldn’t last because I would feel insecure due to the lack of attention you’d give me. The last thing I’d expected was this” you said, making him lift his head up.

He searched your eyes as he said “do you…not like it?” “No, no, I love it, I just- well…have you met yourself? You’re not exactly very affectionate to everyone you meet” you said and you both laughed.

“I just…love you so much” he said and you blushed. He’d told you it took him so many years to tell Yennefer he loved her and you two had only been romantically involved for a little over a year. And it’s been the best year of your life.

He trusted you so much. He chose to be vulnerable and he chose to be vulnerable with you. It was the greatest feeling ever. You’d never given him a reason not to trust you and as scary as it was he reacted directly to that fact every single day he was with you.

“I love you more. My sexy, white haired lover” you said and he blushed. You kissed him and he said “the only white haired lover you’ll ever have” “for the rest of my life” you finished, kissing all over his face.

He smiled and it made you blush. You couldn’t help it. 10 years could pass and you’d still feel so shy when you could make him smile. “As much as I do love this, I am quite hungry” you said and he sighed. He rested his head back on your chest for just a moment longer and then got up, looking around for his clothes.

You smiled, rolling onto your side and admiring his body. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, turning around. It was a little bit of a strain but you reached over and smacked his ass, making him gasp and reach over to the other side of you, doing the same.

You squealed, calling a truce because you knew how quick he could turn this dirty and your ass was already sore from being slammed against so many things last night and also from having you in- never mind. If you keep remembering you’ll only get yourself worked up again and then you’ll never leave this bed.

“Dirty girl,” he said, leaning down and kissing you once he got his clothes on. You curled up in bed for just a little longer, smiling at the fond memories of how amazing it’s been loving Geralt for the last 2 years. Even when you weren’t together, you did everything you could think of to subtly show your love for him. You wouldn’t trade him for the world.

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#the witcher #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #cirilla of cintra #ciri #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz

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frost-queen · 1 year

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I was promised to you (Reader x Geralt of Rivia)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @elllie-does-the-posts, @alex--awesome--22, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @imagines-by-her, @vviolynn, @melsunshine, @evilcr0ne,

Summary: You are Ciri's older sister and promised to Geralt. When you get seperated from your sister after Cintra get's attacked you are saved by your guardian who you are hesitant off at first. Not liking each other at first, you begin to warm up to one another. Finally reunited with your sister she teases you for liking Geralt leaving you flustered. Geralt and you confront each other in an heated discussion which leads to an intimat kiss. [I changed the end approach a tiny bit]

“Cirilla!” – you screamed out the moment the impact hit. Bricks crumbling down, crashing down hard. Cirilla fell back. You immediately started scooping up bricks to clear your path to her. – “Are you hurt? Cirilla are you hurt?” – you called out in a panic, throwing bricks behind you. – “No…” – hearing her faint voice made your heart ease just a little bit. The bricks rolled down making you jump aside before they could hurt your feet. – “Cirilla!” – lifting your head up you saw your sister. You went across, throwing your arms around her. She hugged you tight back panting at what was happening around her.

“We…we have to leave.” – you told her taking her by the hand. Cirilla nodded as you led her on. Cintra was under attack, and you needed to leave the castle and city immediately. Hearing a scream or agony followed by a soldier stumbling in sight at the end of the corridor with a sword inside of him made you stop frantically. The one who had stabbed him came in sight as well, kicking the soldier out of balance.

The soldier tumbled to the ground as his blood smeared the stone floor. – “Close your eyes.” – you told your little sister not wanting her to see it. Cirilla squeezed her eyes shut, clamping onto you. Knowing you couldn’t stay here, you searched for a way out before they would notice you. On your right there was a door as you took the rash decision of opening it.

Quickly shutting it behind you. Cirilla let go of you while you barricaded the door with some chairs. Sounds from outside filling the empty space. Cirilla slowly walked up to the open window gap hearing the commotions louder. Her eyes widened with fear the closer she got. Screams of terror and slashes reaching her ears. Standing close enough she gasped loud, covering her mouth with a hand at the sight of the fires. Everything burning as the smoke reached the skies rapidly.

“Cirilla!” – you called out not seeing her around you immediately. The moment you spotted her, you ran up to her. Turned her around whilst covering up her eyes with your hand. – “Don’t look at that!” – you said loudly. Staring out of the window as well, you suddenly felt your palm wettened. Lifting your hand off her eyes it was clear she was crying. Kneeling down in front of her, you wiped some tears away. – “Don’t be afraid Cirilla. We’ll make it.” – you reassured her.

The loud banging on the door startled you. Cirilla panicked as you jumped up. The thumping got louder. The wooden door splintering. – “Y/n!” – Cirilla cried out tugging at your hand. Having to think quick, you looked around the room. The room was very simple. A table, some chairs, a fallen closet, and a bed.

The thought came so naturally you rushed up to the bed. Grabbing the blankets in a haste. Returning to your sister you almost fell tripping over a blanket that brushed the floor. – “Take these!” – you told her shoving them in her arms. Cirilla was staring in a panic at you. – “Start tying them!” – you ordered under the command of thuds on the door. You knew the chairs weren’t going to hold that door forever. Cirilla started to tie the ends of the blankets to one another. There was no time to be certain if it was long enough or even strong enough to hold you.

Grabbing the blankets frantically you were finding the end of the knotted one’s. With a soft pant you held the free end up. – “Keep tying!” – you told her as you rushed to the bed. Tying the free end around the pole. – “Done!” – Cirilla said out of breath. The thumping got louder and more rapid as it made you hurry over to her. Taking the knotted blankets from her you threw them out of the window. The fabric fell gracefully in place. – “Ciri!” – you grabbed her by the shoulder shoving her forwards. – “Go down now!” – you ordered her being chased by the loud banging.

“Wha…what about you?” – she wondered as you practically shoved her out of the window. – “I’ll be right behind you.” – you replied helping her out of the window. Cirilla held on tight to the blankets, hanging out of the window. – “Hold on tight, go down and run as fast as you can. I’ll be right behind you.” – you reassured her. Cirilla nodded with teary eyes. You watched her slowly go down. The door got kicked in as it made you gasp loud.

Two soldiers rushed at you, grabbing you forcefully by the arms. – “No!” – you screamed out kicking your feet for freedom. – “Y/n!” – Cirilla cried out wanting to climb back up. – “Go!” – you shouted loud as you were getting dragged away. – “Save yourself!” – fighting against their grip. The last thing you saw was Cirilla’s frightful eyes peeking over the window watching you get taken away. She nearly fell down from screaming in terror. Underneath of her Cintra was burning. The city was burning, and she needed to get out quickly. Sobbing loud she lowered herself till she came at the end of the blankets.

There was nothing else to do then jump. She let go of the blankets with a gasp, falling down. She imagined she’d break her bones once hitting the ground. Yet the hard impact never came. Instead of bruising herself on the cobblestone she got caught by sturdy arms. The person who caught her going briefly through their knees from impact. Opening her eyes she met up with two yellow one’s. The man stared briefly back at her as if trying to recall something. After a few seconds he set her down. Just as easily as he had caught her, he put her down for only to take his leave.

“Wait!” – Cirilla called out impulsively. The man kept walking not taking a moment to stop and hear her out. – “Who are you?” – she said loudly going after him. When she rounded the corner there was no sight of him. Not far ahead of her neighed a horse loud as fell to the ground, the soldier on it crushed underneath the weight. Cirilla gasped loud, turning quickly around to avoid getting taken by two soldiers that had come to take Cintra. She started running. Running like she’s never done before. Heading straight for the woods.

Geralt grunted deep walking casually between the fights. None affecting him as they were occupied with fighting each other. He kept eyeing both sides in search of something. A soldier had broken free from the fight coming his way. Geralt drew his sword slashing the soldier down before it could even come near him. Ashes falling from the sky as it had turned a dark orange. The smell of burnt and dead lurking around every corner. There much not much left of the courtyard as he looked around. Grunting again he pushed on making his way through the smoke.

The two Nilfgaard soldiers kept dragging you through the corridors. – “Let me go!” – you shouted fighting with every might for freedom. They rounded the end of a corridor as you heard the faint sound of an arrow. The soldier on your left loosened his grip on you making you turn to look at him. An arrow had penetrated his neck as it made you scream loud. Before he could drop to the ground, the other one was taken care of as well. Both dropped lifeless to the ground. A pair of hands grabbing you.

You flinched, panicked, screaming loud in defense, and jumping around for the hands to let go of you. You got pushed against the stone wall, a hand silencing you. – “Shhht princess.” – the man spoke as you recognized him from the council. – “We have to get you out of here.” – he said lowly removing his hand. He grabbed you roughly by the arm, guiding you through the castle. – “Where is your sister? Where is princess Cirilla?” – he asked wanting to know her whereabouts. – “She’s out… I got her out.” – you told him. – “Let us pray she is unharmed.” – he whispered pulling you through a door.

With his help you managed to get outside. – “I’ll go fetch a horse, stay here.” – he said getting in motion. – “Wait!” – you shout-whispered pulling him to a stop. – “You can’t leave me here alone. I am defenseless.” – you made very clear. The man pulled out a dagger handing it to you. – “Pray you may never need to use it.” – he said before heading off leaving you alone in the dark.

Stumbling a bit as if you were about to pass out, you felt the adrenaline leave your body. The dagger in your hand you looked up to the skies as they burned. You so hoped Cirilla would be alright. You didn’t care for your own life as long as your sister lived. You jumped out of your skin, holding the dagger tight for only the man to return with a horse. – “Princess get on.” – he ordered. You hurried over getting on the horse. The man didn’t sit behind you as you thought. – “Are… are you not coming with me?” – you asked scared.

The man shook his head. – “You’ll be faster on your own.” - he said forcing you to grab onto the reins. – “But… I… I…” – you stuttered out unable to find the words. – “You have to leave Cintra, princess!” – he called out slapping the horse. The horse neighed loud startling you. The horse ran off as you clamped onto the reins for dear life. The horse sprinted off leaving the castle grounds behind it.

A soldier tried to come up to you but got knocked back by the horse. You felt like the horse was more leading you then you were leading it. It galloped around avoiding any obstacles. The closer you got to the city, the crowder it became. Gasping loud you heard another set of neighs. Looking over your shoulder a soldier in all black came in pursuit.

Running underneath an archway your eyes met up with a man going in the opposite direction. The contact was brief as he passed by like a blur. More soldiers began to swarm around you making the horse search frantically for a way out. It knocked some soldiers over whilst running off. You got bounced around as the horse kept making sudden moves and change of directions. A line of Nilkgaard soldiers blocked your way, swaying with fire at your horse. The fire made your horse threw you off his back, hitting the ground hard.

You called out to the horse, but it ran off. The soldiers came swirling around you, closing in on you. You got up to your feet with shaky legs, holding the dagger with a tremble. – “Stay back!” – you said trying to sound bravely slashing the dagger around to keep them away. The pressure of a hand on your shoulder made you flinch, screaming frightened. Having spun around there was another hand on your shoulder. You tried moving away from it as a hand clenching around the back of your neck held you in place.

You got pulled back feeling the fingers squeeze into your skin. – “Look what I got!” – the one holding you said laughable. – “I have the princess!” – you kept squirming your body to break free. Before you knew it there were several hands grabbing at you. Tugging and tearing at your clothing to get a piece of you. – “I’ll kill her!” – you heard a voice say but couldn’t see who was speaking. Calling it out you got suffocated under the swarm of soldiers.

Their armor thick and heavy. The slashing of a sword filled your ears as it seemed to give you some breathing area. The hands were slowly letting go of you one by one. You couldn’t see what was happening it was if a shadow was moving across. Slaying your enemies one by one. Swords clashed in a continuing battle. Screams of pain left and right. Gasping loud you pushed the few remaining hands off you. Sudden silence as you opened your eyes. Getting up you could see your enemies slayed. Their bodies scattered around. Slowly turning round your eyes fell upon a soldier… no a man kneeling.

His sword dangling in his grip covered in blood. He slowly lifted his head to meet up with your gaze. Eyes as bright as yellow staring back at you. Your eyes widened at the blood on his face. Not entirely sure what his intentions were you took a run for it. He could’ve easily killed them to walk away with the credit of killing you himself. Looking over your shoulder, you saw that he was coming after you. Screaming loud it panicked you that he was. Making your way out of the city and towards the forest.

He was closing in on you, heart beating out of control. Panting loud you kept running till. Your foot hit something hard forcing your body to get flung forwards as you tripped. A quick scream filled the air before you fell to the ground. You rolled over gasping loud when the man came leaning down on you. Hands pressed beside your head. Afraid you started scratching your hands around.

“Stop!” – he grunted out grabbing for your hands with one of his own. – “Let me go!” – you called out not wanting to die like this. – “I’m not going to hurt you!” – he called out with a deepness in his voice. You still didn’t believe him, using your feet instead. He groaned when you hit his stomach. – “I’m saving your ass!” – he called out rudely having enough of your protest. – “As if I would believe you.” – you replied loudly using your hands to punch him on his shoulder. He removed himself from you getting up. You hadn’t heard the soldier come up, but he did.

He drove his sword inside of the soldier. You got up when he pulled it out hesitant if you could take a run for it. Before you even took two steps he grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you with him. You started slapping his hand to get it off your wrist. – “Let me go!” – you groaned annoyed as he only tightened his grip. – “No!” – he shouted roughly in your face. It made you swallow and turn to silence. – “Who are you!” – you wanted to know. He didn’t answer till he was in the woods with you.

You blinked surprised seeing a horse tied up by a branch. He untied the reins ordering you to get up. – “Not before you tell me who you are!” – crossing your arms you demanded answers first. He sighed loud briefly looking up. – “Geralt.” – he answered gesturing for you to get on the horse. So you went saddling up. – “Wait… do you mean Geralt as in Geralt of Rivia the witcher?” – you asked as he got on the horse behind you.

You swallowed nervously when he rounded his arm around you to get to the reins. He remained silence as the horse got in motion. – “I am princess Y/n.” – you told him. – “I know.” – he grunted out making you scoff. – “Well of course you know I was promised to you.” – you said out loud as Geralt quirked his eyebrow up. – “All my life I’ve been told about the witcher I was promised to.” – you continued till a sudden thought crossed your mind. – “Does this mean I am to be your wife?” – you questioned bluntly. – “No.” – he responded with force.

A bit offended you crossed your arms. – “Good, because I didn’t want to be your wife in the first place.” – you responded bothered. Annoyed you kept silent till you couldn’t help yourself but speak. – “So if I was promised to you does this mean you are like a guardian to me?” – you asked. He only hummed once clearly not eager to talk with you. Admittingly you got a bit excited about that. – “Does this mean you have to get things done for me?” – you went on. – “If that is the case I don’t have much to ask for just.” – you moved your hand forward to start counting on it.

“One find my sister for me, two a new place to live and three can… can you find me a lover?” – you requested. Geralt huffed loud. – “I’m not your errand boy.” – he responded. – “But as my guardian you can make those things happen. I don’t ask much. If you can a few done of these I’d be happy.” – you happily expressed. Geralt came closer to your ear, whispering in it. – “No.” – his breath tickled making you rub your ear. – “Guardian… pfft guardian my ass…” – you mumbled to yourself.

“Y/n!” – Ciri screamed out at the sight of you. Your breath shocked seeing your sister run over to you. – “Cirilla!” – you screamed back getting up frantically. Tears swelled up in your eyes as you ran over to her. Arms wide to greet her in a warm hug. Ciri crashed against your body, wrapping her arms around you. Feeling the warmth of her body against yours made you cry. Geralt slowly rose and approached slowly. Ciri and you stopped hugging. – “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” – you told her wiping your tears away.

“How did you make it out? Survive for all those months?” – you asked wanting to know every detail. Ciri’s eye fell on Geralt behind you. – “Oh.” – she said surprised pointing at him. Her surprise made you look over your shoulder to him as well. Geralt bowed for Ciri. – “He…he caught me when I fell out of the window.” – she said. – “He did?” – you responded to her seeing her nod. – “That is Geralt my guardian. Remember everyone talking about that promise. Well it is true. I am promised to him.” – you explained to your sister.

She smiled at him. – “He’s handsome.” – she whispered to you. – “Maybe a bit.” – you whispered back teasingly. – “Oh it is so good to be reunited with you.” – you took her hands leading her to the fire crackling. You sat her down on a log as you sat on the one close to her. – “Where… where have you been sister? How… how did you find me?”

Ciri took a deep breath looking a bit away. – “I’ve been lonely without you.” – she said softly. – “Your promise kept me strong. The promise that we would meet again.” – she reminded you. Geralt puffed soft finding it the silliest thing ever. – “Don’t mind him he’s like that.” – you told your sister ignoring him. Geralt glared briefly your way making your sister giggle loud. You looked over your shoulder with a glance full of attitude at him. Ciri looked between the two of you smiling shyly. – “Y/n.” – she patted you on the knee for your attention. – “Did he save you?” – she asked as it made you look shyly down.

“I did.” – Geralt replied making you look annoyed behind you to him. – “She was helpless even with a dagger. Couldn’t even stab someone properly.” – he continued. – “Oh, did you have a dagger?” – Ciri called out. You hummed loud turning towards her. – “Someone from the council gave it to me for protection.” – you told her completely ignoring Geralt. Feeling a bit left out, he started to mingle himself in the conversation. – “I am the one that brought up the dagger, so why are you talking to her.” – he didn’t mean to sound desperate but it kind of showed.

Ciri only smiled further noticing how smitten he clearly was with you. You sighed loud. – “People who are in each other’s presence can conversate with each other.” – you told him without looking at him. – “People?” – Geralt responded funnily. – “You aren’t here with one single person. Look at me too and Roach.” – he called out finding you unbelievable. You turned more to your sister. – “So how did you find me?” – you asked her again. – “What did you say again?” – Geralt said bothered. – “How dare you mock me like that when I’ve been so tolerant towards you ever since I saved you.” – he continued in a deep voice. Ciri pressed her lips together to hide her wide smile as you got up to face him.

“Who’s fault do you think it is I was promised and got this stupid cut.” – you said to him annoyed. Geralt leaned in pulling your hair up to reveal the cut in your neck. – “What do you mean stupid cut? It’s pretty.” – he answered loudly letting go of your hair. You gasped loud, touching your hair. – “Did you just hit me on the head?” – you called out as he smiled sarcastically at you. – “I think you like him.” – Ciri teased. You shot her a glare for teasing you like that. – “I think you should be nicer to him.” – she added as Geralt smiled her way.

“He was like that from the start towards me!” – you told her. – “You are not to be my wife! I am not your guardian!” – you started listing them up. – “You thought you were nice to me when you said those things back.” – you continued sarcastically. – “I said all that for your sake.” – Geralt replied. – “If you really want what’s best for me go find me a lover!” – you shouted at him. – “A new place to live and a lover. What kind of promised guardian are you even!” – you started listing again counting on your fingers.

“Your lover is right here.” – Geralt answered loudly. – “Where? Where I don’t see him!” – you replied looking around as if one would appear. – “Right here! In front of you, me!” – he shouted pointing firm at himself. Your eyes widened at the sudden confession as a flush went up your cheeks. He was panting loudly staring harshly at you. Ciri felt like interrupting, so she kept quiet and turned away. Geralt laid his hands against your cheeks, pulling you close. Heart beating loudly he brought your lips to his.

The moment his lips kissed yours, you surrendered completely to him. The kiss was soft at first till he demanded more. Kissing you rougher as you just had to follow his pace. He only stopped kissing you when Ciri cleared her throat loud. – “As I was saying you like him.” – she told you with a wide smile. You could throw something at her for being so obvious.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

Note

“ i'm extremely okay with this. “

- Ciri

“ i'm extremely okay with this. “

pronouns for y/n: he/him/his, male reader

Smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress, Ciri swept her gaze over those present. The Belleteyn festival. A chance for Ciri to feel normal again, to forget her worries for a night. All she felt was giddiness as she took in the lively attendees and listening to the music playing. She kept her mask close to her face and hoped nobody would recognize her.

Geralt and Yennefer's eyes bore into her back as she strode through the festivities, gaze bouncing around in order to soak everything in before they'd eventually be forced to go back out on the road in search of a new place to call home. She smiled and laughed at the performances, finally being able to enjoy herself. She turned to glance back at Geralt and Yennefer, shoulder bumping against someone and she saw it, a new vision.

She heard laughter, a mix of her voice and a stranger's. She saw someone's bare back turned toward her in a cozy bed and watched herself reach out to touch them. The wail of a baby pierced through next and she found herself holding a bundle that had her ashen-gray hair.

When she blinked, she saw the festival again and a voice rumbled near her ear. "Apologies." It sent a shiver down her spine and she whirled around, the mask nearly slipping from her fingers. The man tilted his head at her, (E/C) eyes peeking through the maroon mask on his face.

"You-" She caught herself and cleared her throat, finding that her hands had begun trembling. Had she just witnessed her future? Was she to become... a mother? A wife?

"Are you alright?" He asked, lips curling into a teasing smile. "Did I knock into you that hard?"

"No, I... Sorry, I..." At a loss for words for the first time in a while, Ciri certainly didn't miss the feeling. A hand gently touched her back and she glanced over her shoulder, finding Geralt and Yennefer at her side.

"Is something wrong, Ciri?" Geralt questioned, his eyes fixated on the man. Most would typically turn into blabbering messes when Geralt glared at them, but the stranger simply stared back at him until his attention turned to Yennefer and he grinned.

"It's been a while, Yen." He purred and scooped her hand into his, lips brushing against her knuckles. Ciri felt a flash of jealousy and blinked, startled by her own reaction.

"(Y/N)…" Yennefer breathed. "Vilgefortz said you were dead. He said you had been-"

"Killed in battle? And you believed that, Yen? You wound me." (Y/N) released her hand and shook his head, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment.

"You know each other?" Geralt cocked a brow, a frown settling on his features.

"(Y/N) is a mage who worked alongside Vilgefortz sometimes." Yennefer explained to the bulky witcher, violet eyes never leaving (Y/N), almost as if afraid if she blinked he'd disappear. "The Brotherhood had attempted many times to recruit him for his abilities. Why would he lead us to believe you were dead?"

"He owed me a favor." (Y/N) replied coolly and shrugged his shoulders, the disinterest on his face clear as day. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a glance.

"You're a mage?"

"Indeed I am, Princess." Ciri's heart skipped a beat and she nearly huffed. He was a stranger. A potential threat... and possibly her future husband.

"What are you doing here then, mage?" (Y/N) looked back at Geralt, locking eyes with him as Geralt placed a protective hand over Ciri's shoulder.

"I was passing through and heard about the festival so I decided to attend."

"Where are you headed?"

"Anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere. I have no real destination in mind since it seems I'll bump into an old friend in most places. Being found by the Brotherhood is the last thing I desire." (Y/N) tore his eyes away from the witcher to gaze around him. Ciri swallowed.

"You should come with us."

"Ciri-"

"We have the same dilemma. We can help each other. You stay with us somewhere where you won't be found and in return, you can teach me magic." Ciri proposed with a sudden boost of confidence. (Y/N)'s lips formed a grin and he peered back at her, eyes lighting up with interest.

"I'm sure our little mage wouldn't enjoy-"

"Oh, I'm extremely okay with this."

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ramen-flavored · 1 year

Text

Damn, I wish they didn’t leave the season 3 finale on a cliff hanger like that. What a shame there won’t be a fourth season.

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redskull199987 · 1 year

Text

All the right Moves

Eskel x female Witcher!reader Word count:2.4k warnings: canon typical violence, reader is injured, fluff at the end Summary:You´re on your way back to Kaer Morhen together with Eskel, as you run into a Leshy. You knew that something was wrong, as Eskel told you he wouldn't want to travel with you anymore…

Masterlist

You were hiking so fast, that you could feel your lungs burning inside your chest. Your throat dry from not drinking anything for hours. Your feet were begging you to stop, even just for a minute. But you knew, you couldn't. If you stopped now, he would be dead, once you reached Kaer Morhen. You just had to make it in time. If Eskel died, you would never forgive yourself. His words were still ringing in the back of your head.

“Leave me alone!”, he yelled, as he pushed you away from him. Confused, you looked at the Witcher, who was normally warm and understanding around you. All you had done was touch his shoulder carefully, asking if you could see his injury.“Eskel…are you okay?”, you mumbled, Confusion still written all over your face.

“Just fuck off.”, he cursed under his breath, turning away from him.

You watched in confusion as he walked away from you, gathering his weapons. He didn't look back at you even once.

Your breath hitched slightly, as you could finally see the silhouette of Kaer Morhen on the Horizon. One or Two hours more and you would reach the old castle. It would be nightfall by then. You finally started to walk again, reaching into your pocket to find the potion, that was the reason why you were so late. You were sure that all the others had already arrived. Geralt and Vesemir probably worrying not only about Eskel, but also wondering why you didn't arrive yet.

You desperately wished that you weren't so late. But it had taken you longer than expected, to find someone who knew how to make the potion you needed. If it weren't for a mage, who was a good friend of yours, who teleported you near the mountains, where Kaer Morhen was, you would´ve lost several days and Eskel would probably be dead already. But luckily, you were only half a day behind him, which luckily gave you enough time to save him. Or so you hoped.

“Just fucking leave me alone!”, Eskel screamed at you, after you had finally managed to get a good look at his shoulder.“You´re infected, Eskel!”, you yelled, trying to grab his hand,”If we don´t do something, you will die!”“I am not going to die, so just leave me alone. I don't need you. I never needed you!”, he barked, looking at you with a stern expression. You were taken aback by his words. You knew that he didn't mean it, he didn't know what he was saying. But it still hurt you.

Before you could say something more, he was already mounting the horse and running off. You didn't try to follow him. It was worthless. You knew that he would be in Kaer Morhen after you found a potion that would save him.

You looked at his back one more time, before making your way into the other direction, already knowing who you could ask for help.

A small sigh left your lips,as you finally reached the doors of the keep. You were about to push it open, as the medallion around your neck started shaking. Hastily, you made your way inside. This wasn't the first time this happened today. But this time it was much harsher.

You didn't see anyone at first. The great hall was completely empty, but you could see plates full of food and tankards filled with ale standing all over the place. Someone was here not long ago.

Your head shot up, as you heard ruckus coming from the laboratory, seconds later the sound of pots being smashed and tables thrown over. As you finally started running, you could hear a beasty groan. “Fuck.”, you grunted as you heard the voices of Geralt and Vesemir. And as you finally reached the designated room, you peeked through the open door. What you saw almost made you lose your composure.

Right there, just a few meters in front of you, was Eskel towering over the other two Witchers. But he wasn't himself. Not in the slightest. He had transformed into a wooden beast, his face barely visible, but it was there.

Mere seconds, after laying your eyes on him, you wanted to storm towards him, but a magical shield was blocking the door. You quickly drew your sword, as you saw what was about to happen.

Eskel had managed to trap Vesemir, resulting in Geralt lighting up his sword to end it.

As fast as you could, you muttered a spell and lifted your sword. With all your power, you pierced it through the barrier.

You took three big steps, breathing in heavily, knowing that what you were about to do would knock the air out of your lungs.

And only as you stepped in front of him, lifting your blade to meet his in the air, Geralt had finally noticed your presence. He looked at you perplexed, as your sword clanked against his, the metall hissing from the heat. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not even angry, but genuinely concerned. “You're not going to take him away from me!”, you claimed, as Geralt slowly lowered his sword.

“Please just trust me!”, you urged the white wolf. He only nodded at you, as you quickly turned around, grabbing the small potion from your pocket.

“Eskel?!?!”, you yelled as loud as you could. The beast-turned Man quickly turned around, upon hearing your voice. Vesemir, who had previously been choked, fell to the ground, coughing. “Take care of him!”, you ordered Geralt, who was able to quickly make his way over to the older Witcher, since Eskel´s attention was all on you now.

“Here goes nothing.”, you muttered under your breath, as you felt a branch pierce through your shoulder. You yelped, as you were lifted into the air, more branches wrapping around your body. You were pushed against a wall, as Eskel leaned closer to you.

“Y/N”, he sputtered, his eyes scanning your form.

“It's me, Eskel.”, you affirmed, slowly bringing the potion to your mouth to rip the cork off, “You´re going to be alright, my love. Don´t worry.”

Eskel was about to answer, but no words left his mouth, he was just staring at you. You quickly realized that this was your chance, as he was momentarily confused. You lifted your arm, as best as you could and threw the small bottle of potion right into his mouth. He choked on it for a second, not comprehending what had just happened. “I'm sorry in advance.”, you quickly mumbled, before lifting your foot and kicking him in the jaw, in order to make him swallow the potion.

Your breath hitched for a second, as you didn´t know what was going to happen. Would it work? Would he live?

As you fell to the ground with a grunt, you were pretty sure that it was working. Grabbing your bleeding shoulder, you quickly backed off, as Eskel started to squirm around, an angry scream leaving his lips.

“Y/N?!”, Geralt yelled, as he tried to reach you, but Eskel´s branches were throwing a tantrum, swinging all around the hall.

“Please just work.”, you prayed, but suddenly, all movement stopped. The room was silent for a second, before all the wood surrounding you suddenly started corroding. You watched with wide eyes, how all the branches coming out of Eskel slowly crumbled away all the way up to his body. He had stopped moving for a second, but as you stood up and called out for him, the wooden exoskelett rumbled to life. You heard cracking and wood breaking and seconds later, you saw Eskel´s Human body falling out of what looked like a tree stump now.

"Eskel!", you gasped and leaped forward just in time to catch him. His body weight pulled you down with him. He was still unconscious, as you slowly turned him around, resting his head on your lap. Just now, you took a good look at him. His entire body was covered in dirt. Vines and leaves had grown in and around his clothes. The only thing untouched, was his Witcher medallion.

“He´s alive.”

You looked up at Geralt and Vesemir who were now standing in front of you. Vesemir was still leaning on Geralt for support, but apart from that he seemed fine to you.

“You saved his life”, Geralt added. All you could do was nod. Your emotions were slowly coming to the surface now and you realized that you could´ve lost him today. But here he was, laying in your arms unconsciously.

"Come on.” , Vesemir patted your shoulder, kneeling down next to you,”Let's get him fixed up. We´ll take care of this”, he lifted his hand to gesture around the completely destroyed room,”later, alright?”

You just nodded again, stepping aside, as Geralt and Vesemir proceeded to lift Eskel up to carry him to his room. As the other Witchers ran into you, you promised them an explanation , but for now, you needed to look after Eskel.

Your eyes kept falling shut over and over again, as you lay in a chair in front of Eskel´s bed. It had been a few hours since you managed to cure him from the infection. He hadn't woken up since. You tried to stay awake but sleep was gnawing at you, like a hungry aeschna.

“Sorry? Are you Y/N?”

Your eyes opened once more, as you looked over to the door to see who had come to visit you. A young girl was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair was slightly disheveled and the bottom of her white dress was dirty and ripped open.

“You must be the child surprise.”, you stated, after getting up and bidding her inside.

“Cirilla of Cintra.”, she smiled, as she stepped inside,”Geralt sent me to give you this. He said it would help with your exhaustion.”

You looked at her curiously, as she handed you a small bottle of potion. You gingerly took it and inspected it´s contents. After recognizing the mixture, you quickly downed it in one sip. Mere seconds after, you already felt it working. Your eyes didn´t feel as heavy anymore and your limbs stopped aching a bit.

“Thank you Cirilla.”, you finally said and gifted the young girl a soft smile.

She only nodded and was about to leave, as you gently grabbed her wrist. She turned around perplexed.

You cleared your throat once more, before finally speaking again:”Geralt told me that…that Eskel was a bit rude with you, upon arriving here at Kaer Morhen.”

“He wasn't exactly the nicest.”, she admitted after you finally let go of her hand.

“I want to apologize for his behavior”, you sighed, rubbing your neck,”He isn't usually like this. He didn't even let me touch him, after he was injured. This infection…it did something to him, changed him.”

Cirilla didn't say anything, but instead stepped closer to the bed, Eskel was lying in. She inspected him carefully, her eyes wandering over his exhausted body.

“I really hope that he will wake up again. I would like to meet the real Eskel.”, she uttered and turned around to you with a smile. “Yeah, me too.”, you mumbled weakly. You were really missing your soft Witcher. The way he always smiled at you with his big eyes, the way his hands felt on your skin, his lips on yours, his gentle voice, as he mumbled sweet nothing into your ear in the early mornings. You just wanted him to wake up again.

“Hey?”, Ciri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She must have noticed how shaken up you were, “He'll be alright. You saved him, right?”

You only nodded, slowly petting her shoulder:”You should go to sleep now. It's late and you must be tired, after all this ruckus.”

“You should get some sleep too.”, she smiled softly before leaving the room. You threw one last glance her way, before the door finally closed and the room was silent again.

At least for a few moments.

Your head shot up, as you heard groaning coming from the bed. That could only mean one thing: Eskel was awake.

You quickly made your way over to the bed and you would be lying if you said, your heart didn't skip a beat. There he was. He was alive and well. His heartbeat going steady and his breath a little shallow, but also very much there.

As he looked up and his eyes landed on you, you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you stepped forward, kneeling down on the side of the bed, your arms pulling Eskel into a massive hug.

“Woah there, bug. It's alright, I'm here.”, Eskel affirmed, as you buried your face in his shoulder,”I'm here with you.”

“Yeah”, you sniffled, a few lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You finally parted to get a good look at him. Frankly, he still looked unbelievably tired. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes and you noticed that he moved with a bit of discomfort. “What happened, bug?”, he suddenly asked you, now fully sitting up against the headrest.

“The leshy.”, you mumbled, reaching out for his hand. He gladly intertwined his fingers with yours. “It infected you, after we fought against it.”

“Fuck, I think I remember now.”, he hissed,”I'm so sorry. The things I said, I did. I was such an arsehole, wasn´t I?”

“Well, Ciri certainly thinks so.”, you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But Eskel didn't laugh. Instead he lifted his hand to softly grasp your cheek. He gently wiped away your tears, but new ones were already coming, upon feeling his soft touch again.

“I am sorry.”, he said firmly,”Thank you for saving my ass.” “Of course.”, you assured,”I would do anything for you. I love you.” “I love you, bug”, Eskel mumbled, pulling you back into his chest. A small sigh left your lips, after settling against his body. You finally allowed yourself to rest, after so many hours of being completely on edge. Eskel was alive. You did, in fact, save him.

“Rest.”, you heard him whisper into your ear, as he pulled you closer to his body. His warmth spreading welcoming you, after he pulled the blanket over you.

“You deserve it.”

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jasmines-library · 1 year

Text

You'll Be Okay.

Geralt of Rivia/The Witchers x Injured Reader.

Summary: Growing up in Kaer Morhen as a female Witcher was never easy, but you always had your brothers beside you. Although you only see them a few times a year, you are still close, trusting each other with your lives as you have done many times before. So what happens when your brother, and best friend, gets infected by a creature you dedicate your life to hunting?

Warnings: Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, angst, choking, near death, swearing, stabbing, weapons, loss/grief, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, a bit of a slow start.

Notes: This can be interpreted as completely platonic, or as a Geralt x reader, or Eskel x reader, it’s up to you to choose. This also takes place during S2E2 of the Netflix show.

Word count: 4.1K (it got a little out of hand...)

⭒ Masterlist ⭒

Kaer Morhen was far from silent. The snow had settled on the blue mountains casting a misty haze across the sky and the Witchers had retired home for the winter. They sat gathered round the dim firelit hall sipping on beer and sweetened mead as they boasted about their scars and the exciting stories behind them. Witchers were rare to stumble upon.The trials were dangerous and most people died before completing them. There were as little as 20 witchers left after the massacres, where many of the few men died. Female Witchers were incomparable, unheard of. The trials were nearly impossible for boys, let alone a young girl. Though, some spoke of a woman with eyes as golden as the blazing sun whose magic and strength was comparable to that of mages. A woman who not only passed the trials but exceeded trials beyond those alongside Geralt of Rivia.

You sat slumped against the table in the corner of the room with a dark beer in hand as you studied the scenes of your brothers before you. Many had not returned home. Being a Witcher was a dangerous art and not always a wanted one. You knew that. You could be killed or fatally injured at any unexpected moment. It’s why you all had to keep a keen eye out, a single slip up and it could be game over. Your golden eyes glazed over the men before you. You would be lying to say that your stomach knotted in the absence of Geralt and Eskel. You had grown close with the pair, Geralt had been there throughout your trials, easing you though the burning pain as the herbs coursed through your veins like fire and patching up wounds you could not. Eskel had helped train you to fight. He taught you to never give up. That you could do anything they could. Your enhanced senses meant that you could hear the rattling of the door handle before it slammed open and the muttering died down like a flame. A hooded figure stepped into the room. His pale hair fell in ragged ringlets in front of his face and his eyes that correlated yours melted from the piercing gaze they held as he pulled his hood down. Surprisingly, in tow was a young girl, perhaps around the same age you were when you began your trials.

“Here comes trouble.”

You leaned forwards in your seat as Lambert stood and approached Geralt.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He folded his arms.

“We thought you got lost. Or killed.” Coën jested.

Geralt's eyes softened and a smile crept onto his lips. “Not yet. Sorry.”

Lambert smiled before embracing his brother tightly. “Brother! I knew you’d make a fucking entrance.”

A tall figure lurked towards the front of the room. His hair was much like Geralt’s; it shimmered softly under the light and his eyes were much like yours. Upon his face his moustache and eyebrows were littered with greys.

“Wolf.” When he spoke his voice was firm though you could hear the relief. “You’re home. Finally.”

“Vesemir.” Geralt said, addressing the man. He was as close to a father as Geralt had. As close to a father as all of you had. The young girl who arrived with Geralt, clung to his side, anxiously, wrapped tightly in a fur shawl, which was so large that it tickled her rosy cheeks. Geralt gestured to her. “Had to make a few stops.”

“Hmm.”

A sort of uncomfortable silence encased the room as people waited for what would come next. The cracking of the flames was the only thing heard before you rose from your chair, the old wood creaking as it shifted, and made your way towards your brother. His face lit up with anticipation.

“Geralt of Rivia.” You chuckled. “You never fail to surprise.”

Geralt studied you carefully as you spoke. He noticed all of the new blemishes in your skin and the fresh scar that ran across your eyebrow and down your cheek. He took in your eyes and the way their yellow hues shifted in the light and the smile that was pressed on your lips. He admired your hair and the way you kept it; different from the last time he saw you, but still he liked it. He had missed you.

“Y/N. Long time no see.”

Your lips curved further upwards and your eyes glistened. “Too long.” You pulled him in close and welcomed the slow beating of his heart. He was alive.

“He’s home!” The tender moment was broken by the slamming of a knife in one of the tables followed by the rest of your brothers swarming the man.

It was darker still when the room continued to erupt with laughter at Lambert’s very animated retelling of one of his jobs. The young girl - Ciri, had made herself comfortable with a goblet, her face was lit up with an ecstatic grin. She reminded you much of yourself when you were her age. The wind howled outside, rattling against the door and pounding at the windows.

“Best job I had all year.” Lambert chuckled, taking another swig of his drink, spilling some of it down the side of his face and onto his shirt. He cursed and patted at it with a rag before tossing it back on the table.

Vesemir raised his goblet aloft. “Each of your faces is cause enough for celebration. You’re safe. You made it back. You made it home.”

A series of glasses and goblets were raised in agreement. You raised yours high, morning the missing face of Eskel and your other brother who didn’t make it.

“Here’s to another winter together.”

There were a number of murmurs and follow up toasts, the sound of glasses clinking together and chairs shuffling.

Geralt raised his cup “To the brothers. To our sister. To family.”

“To family” chortled everyone.

A strong draft rushed in as a booming voice sounded from the entrance to the hall. “To forgetting the fucking path! For one fucking night. Who’s ready?”

“Eskel!”

You rushed forwards and embraced him. His expression was tired and there was a thin sheen of sweat cascading across his brow. His dark hair fell across his face where it had fallen out of the tie he had scrapped it into.

“Are you alright?” You asked him as you furrowed your brow. “You look like day old shit.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your shoulder and making his way into the room “Yeah?You should see the other guy.”

Geralt eyed him as he stepped forwards, revealing the long, branchlike hand that was shoved into his bag.

“The bout lasted six hours. I’d have got the fucker too. If I hadn’t lost my elixirs.” He threw the bag on the floor. It landed with a thud which ricocheted throughout the silent room and unsettled the grime on the floor. “Took her hand though.”

“What’s that?” One of your brothers rolled the bag over with his foot. “Is that a leshy?”

“Walked like one. Talked like one. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” You queried, raising your brow.

“I haven’t crossed a leshy in a while.” Geralt said, turning the branch over in his calloused hands. “Not in Kaedwen.”

Eskel pulled down the hem of his coat slightly. It was long and green, frayed at the edges. Bloodied bandages poked through from underneath. “Well count yourselves lucky. Unless you’re aching for the sting of one of their fucking roots.”

“Fire through the heart is the only thing that puts one down.” Vesemir said firmly. “Six hours in, that didn’t occur to you?”

Laughter scattered about the room and Eskel’s face darkened as he made a beeline towards Ciri, who took a sip from her goblet, trying to avoid his gaze and retain her laughter. He made it pretty impossible not to when his face was inches from hers. “Who the hell are you?”

“Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Pleasure to meet you.”

He did not return the greeting, only glared at her for a brief moment before grunting and slipping away. You could tell that something was wrong.

~~~

Your sword rang loudly across the courtyard as it made contact with Geralt's. He grunted as you advanced forwards, forcing him back against one of the pillars. You smirked, pressing the sword closer to him. He shoved you backwards, using his extra strength to force you to the floor. The snow was cold on your body, despite the layers you were wearing as you rolled underneath him, grabbing his uninjured leg and pulling him down to the ground. Scrambling quickly to your feet you forced the sword from his hand.

“You’re getting sloppy, old man.” you chuckled.

“Or maybe I just let you win.”

Shaking your head, you held a calloused hand and helped him up from the ground.

“When you told us you called law of surprise, Vesemir and I told you ‘big mistake.’ You said you promised you wouldn’t claim the child.”

“I had to save her.”

“I know. And you knew I would call you out on it.”

Geralt hesitated and placed his sword in a sheath. “Yeah.”

Your eyes found their way to the floor, tracing the little indents in the snow carved by the shuffling of feet.

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Nothing.”

Geralt's stare spoke for him and you let out a deep sigh.

“Eskel. He’s acting strange.”

Geralt sighed and brushed the hair from his face. “I noticed it too.”

“I sense something is changing, Geralt. Keep Ciri close.”

~~~

Eskels party raved on as you sat, tucked away in the corner with a glass of mead observing the way the flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow over everyone's faces. The witchers swayed and danced and kissed with women from the nearby village. You observed how Eskel was fondled over desperately by a fair haired woman. He hollered and pulled his arm back protectively when she got a fraction too close to his wound that was no longer leaking crimson, but burned like fire. You watched how Geralt, who had been previously absent, walked briskly towards him with angry lines etched on his face. You edged closer, something was telling you this wouldn’t end well. And you were right, you rose quickly to your feet when Eskel got up in Geralt's face. When you pushed the two of them apart, Eskel eyed you angrily.

You could tell his shoulder was bothering him and that he was in more pain than he let on.

“You know, it's funny,” Eskel grunted at Geralt, “Me and the others, we come back here, all banged up. Rock troll busts Lambert's eye. A werewolf takes a chunk out of Coen’s arse…” Eskel’s gaze turned to you and he drank you in, lingering on the pink scar that ran along your face. “And Y/N… Y/N here gets her face torn up by a Bruxa. Was out for days.”

It’s clear from the way that Geralt watches you that you didn’t tell him that one. Eskel smirks and cocks his head. “Hmm, but looks like she didn’t tell you that one did she? And…what do you come back with? All i'm saying is when I find a princess, the last thing i'm gonna do is play knight.” he jested.

He swung at Geralt who quickly countered the punch and pulled his brother into a hold. You skidded to a halt besides the two trying to separate them. Eskel’s face was raging with anger, his eyes piercing like a thousand tiny daggers. “Eskel,” You told him sternly. “Do us a favour, and go to bed.” His teeth clenched and he pulled his hands into fists but before he could do anything, the woman pulled him away down a corridor and deep into the keep.

You turned to leave, to go back to your corner or to join another Witcher, expecting Geralt to return to Ciri or wherever he had been before he caused the stir, but instead he gripped your arm and forced you to face him. You looked at him inquisitively.

“Y/N…”

“Geralt.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the Bruxa?”

You turned away from him, walking back to your goblet. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“But you told Eskel?”

You whipped back around, his face was laced with concern and frustration. “I didn’t tell Eskel. He was there.”

“He was hunting it with you? Then why didn’t he stop it before you got hurt? I swear to the gods-”

“Geralt. Stop. He found me… we were both coincidentally hunting the same Bruxa.”

“You hate Bruxae.” Geralt stated.

You hummed and sipped your drink. “There was a rumour about a local village being attacked by a vampire. Things had been slow and the pay was good, so I went to check it out. You know Bruxa, they’re quick and she got me from behind. Winded me and pinned me down so I couldn’t get to my weapons. Took a chunk out my face with her claws and nearly drunk me dry. That’s when Eskel found me. He shot her down and took me to an Inn. He saved my life Geralt. I can never repay him for that.”

It was the high pitch buzzing followed by the rapid vibrating of the medallion slung over your neck that caused your head to snap up. Everyone stopped. A low, guttering rumbling spread its way across the room.

“Maybe Eskel’s leshy wants its hand back.” Coën said.

Vesemir’s golden eyes scanned the room, trying to follow the pattering and heaving creaking. “Wield your wits, kids.”

Everything seemed to happen very quickly. Everyone scattered to keep Kaer Morhen safe, darting between corridors and brandishing themselves with their weapons. You slipped away from the crowd to try and find Eskel, if he was preoccupied and didn’t notice, or it was his leshy, he was in trouble, and you felt as though you owed him protection. Geralt, to your surprise, joined you in the eerily silent corridors. You had a feeling he wanted to get to Ciri, but knew he was needed in the fight or, perhaps after your story about the Bruxa, he felt as though he needed to stay by your side.

The weight of your sword was comfortable in your hand as you released it from its sheath, it was almost like an extension of your body; an arm made of silver, a protector, a deadly limb. The sound of your footsteps mixed with the steady drip of water seeping through one of the many spidering cracks in the tall ceilings. Sometimes they seemed never ending as though there was no escape from Kaer Morhen, you would be trapped in its walls forever. A low rumbling ricocheted throughout the keep, shaking the walls and blowing out some of the sconces, plunging more of the halls into darkness. You gripped your sword tighter.

The grand oak doors creaked as Geralt forced them open. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight which flooded in from the skylight and from the chandeliers which swung wildly on their hinges. The pair of you edged your way inside, your eyes and ears sharp as you scanned the room.

“Oh God…” You recoiled. On the left side of the room, the girl Eskel had been with was pinned against the wall, suffocated by a thick rope of branches. One protruded awkwardly from her mouth, a river of blood coating her chin and the offending branches. There was a thud, and you raised your sword aloft to slice through the thick vine that darted out towards you. A second one raced towards Geralt, who sliced through it as though it was butter. The pair of you readied your swords, turning to watch each other's backs and making your way further into the centre of the room. Glinting as it caught the light, your sword swung to destroy another branch, which had made to grab your ankle. The room was silent for a worrying moment. Then, the two of you were assaulted from all sides. The leshy growled as its arms attacked from all sides, breaking walls and bending the wooden framing of the windows. The pair of you swung your swords with precision, slicing and ducking to avoid a deadly ending, though no matter how hard you tried, the two of you were outnumbered. One of the vines, as thick as your arm, wound itself around Geralt, slamming him against the wall with a grunt, out of your reach.

“Geralt!” You cried, trying to make your way over to him in vain, whilst dancing between the onslaught of vines. You could see the witcher struggling, wheezing and clawing at the second branch slivering across his neck, binding him to the stone pillar. You could see him straining, his hands struggling to grip the sconce that hung just out of reach, mocking him. The branches’ attack ceased for a moment, as the leshy rolled in. It was tall and spindly with a humanoid face that looked very pissed off. Geralt dropped beside you as the creature squealed in pain; he had managed to burn the wood with the sconce, casing it to drop him to the ground. With your face stony, you pointed your sword at the leshy. With the help of the flames from Geralt's sconce, the pair of you backed it behind a table. Geralt jabbed the flames at the creature, which caused the bark of its skin to blister and it to growl. When it turned its head towards you, your face dropped.

Staring back at you were the piercing, green eyes of another witcher. “Eskel?”

It came out as less than a whisper, your voice betraying you, revealing the fear behind your mask.

“Y/N…” Eskel panted back. “Geralt.”

The leshy, Eskel, grunted in pain as it stood, tossing the table it hid behind to the side. Geralt dropped the flames and held his sword in front of him. It was only seconds before Eskel was firing vines and the pair of you. Geralt thrust his sword downwards, deep into one of the branches coming towards him. Eskel howled in pain and tossed his brother back into the doors before turning towards you. Desperate to get away from the danger, you rolled across one of the benches. The branches shot over you as you backed away. You were about to strike again, when two protruded from the walls and gripped both of your arms, yanking you backwards against a second cold bench. Two more slithered around your ankles, pinning you to the piece of furniture. They were harsh, thick with thorns and rough surfaces that scratched against your skin. You grunted, squirming to get free, but you were stuck.

“Eskel.” You strained, “I don’t want to hurt you…please.”

The leshy bent over, towering above you so that you could see the scarring on the wooden version of Eskel’s face. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t the witty, gruff voice you were used to, but a fragile, pained whisper. “I came back here…I knew something was wrong.” He swallowed thickly, struggling with his words as you struggled against him with gritted teeth. Where was Geralt? What had Eskel done to him? “I don’t know what happened...”

One of the leshys arms jabbed itself into your shoulder, drawing ribbons of crimson blood. You screwed your face up and bit back a scream.

“I thought I could fight it.” Another branch into the same shoulder. You groaned and clenched your jaw. The next few words were broken and hard to understand, you weren’t sure if it was because of the hazy pain you were in, or because Eskel was struggling against the leshy. Probably both. “I thought…you could help me like I helped you…”

Eskel stared at you, before turning away and screeching loudly. Vessemir stood in the doorway, his sword sheathed behind his back and a javelin which he had just thrown lodged inside the bark of the creature, Geralt stood beside him, weapon at the ready. It yanked it out and ascended into the ceiling as Vessemir removed his sword and began to cut the vines from around you.

“What is this?” He grumbled, pulling you up to your feet.

“It’s Eskel.” Geralt replied. “The leshy’s infected him.”

Vesemir faltered. “But that’s not possible.”

‘

“That’s what we thought.”

The room creaked, the ceiling cracked and the chandeliers swayed as the three of you circled the room. You held your weapon in your off hand as you nursed your injured shoulder. When the leshy’s failed attacks wore thin, it descended from its place in the ceiling and made a beeline for the door. The elder witcher was quick to notice and ordered Geralt to shield them shut. Pissed that its simple escape route was no more, Eskel stalked towards Geralt, albeit didn’t make it very far because you and Vesemir assaulted him with chains that were pinned to the walls. The hooks dug into the bark, keeping him in place. You wound them tightly as he thrashed, suspending him off the ground. Vessemir’s attempts to calm him, telling him you could save him were futile. He just knocked the man to the side, attacking him with lengths of branches, sending him careening to the side.

“Hey!” You yelled, stabbing one of the branches with the point of your sword. The creature turned its attention back to you. It vines wrapped themselves around you, suffocating you in a bone crushing grip. One hooked itself around your neck like a python, coiling tighter and tighter until you felt as though your head might fall off from your body. Eskel cocked his head and studied you closely, his eyes twinkled. No amount of yelling or distraction could draw his attention away from you. He was hooked, conflicted between wanting to kill you and wanting help.

“Eskel…” You wheezed, “Please…stop.”

You were completely unaware of the distressed calls of the other witchers and the hum of Geralt's sword as he cast a spell over it, causing it to glow white hot. You were absorbed by the face of your brother as the branches tightened around your body. Your lungs burned and you tried to suck in air, much to the protest of your ribs, which cracked and shifted uncomfortably. It was when that coppery taste flooded your senses and blood fell from your mouth that you stopped struggling. Your vision blurred as you choked, gasping and spluttering. Your ears rang and white spots obscured your vision as you stared blankly up at Eskels face. When Geralt drove his sword into the leshy’s heart, your body slumped to the floor.

“Y/N!” Geralt was quick to your side, rolling you over to face him, agitating the raw wound on your shoulder. You cried out in pain.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “ he hushed, taking you in. He eyed nervously the blood that was seeping from your mouth and ears, some streaming down your nose. There were angry bruises already forming on your neck and winding around your body. As your spluttering began to cease, your eyes began to flutter shut.

“No. No, no, no, no. Keep those eyes open.” Geralt pleaded. You whimpered as he pulled you into his arms, holding you securely to his body. Your head lolled against him as your eyes fluttered. You missed his call to Vesemir, who led Geralt down the hall. You missed the anxious calls of your brothers, who were aghast to see your condition. You didn’t see the way that Geralt’s face contorted at your pained whimpers and the scattering of people trying to make room for you. You missed it all as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

When you awoke and your eyes had adjusted to the light, the first thing you were aware of was the dull pain that radiated throughout your body. A throbbing ache mixed with a sharp stabbing pain. The second was the anxious, golden eyed stare of Geralt of Rivia.

“You’re awake.” He whispered, as though he were trying to convince himself.

You groaned as you tried to sit up, ignoring the pain in your shoulder and across your ribs. There was still a slight wheeze to your breath.

“Easy,” He told you. “You took quite a beating.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, dry from lack of water. “How long…?”

“A few days. We had to lace you with elixirs…” Geralt sighed deeply. “You had us so worried, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. In that moment, you remembered something, like someone had turned on a light. “Eskel?”

Geralt shook his head. “Gone. I’m sorry.”

You nodded solemnly. You knew that the chances of saving him were slim, through a rough tear spilled from your eyes.

“It’s okay.” Geralt placed a hand on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by a bloodied bandage. “It’s okay. We still have each other. We have our brothers. We will be okay.”

————

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caffieneaddictt18 · 11 months

Text

Moment of Peace

sorceress!reader travels with geralt and ciri as their healer and ciris mother figure as geralts wife. one relaxing day, reader shows ciri a little party trick that geralt doesnt know yet. ends with geralt and reader play fighting about why she didnt show him but showed ciri; and them all acting like a family

(not my image)

As we finally settle in a meadow, surrounded by forest, I let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of sun against my face and the soft soil beneath me feels amazing.

"Ciri! Y/N! Go collect water. I'll be right back." Geralt commands, but before he can leave to collect wood and sustenance for the night, you stop him and give him a quick kiss.

"Be safe."

"Always am."

Those simple four words are all you need before you walk off into the forest for a few yards, before you come upon a clear water stream. You see Ciri standing in the water and feeling the sun while collecting water. As you join her in the water, she looks up.

"So... why do you allow him to order you around if you're his wife?" Ciri, blunt as ever, asks, not understanding that this is Geralt's way of showing his love.

"He doesn't 'order' me around. It's his way of keeping us safe. I'm a mage and can keep you safe. You're training and can keep me safe. Plus, he goes off and does the dangerous hunting, so we don't have to. It's his way of showing love." I explain his actions and why I react without losing my patience with the way Geralt talks to me.

"Oh. I didn't think about it like that." Ciri ticks her head to the side and continues to collect water.

"Geralt isn't conventional. But he is exactly how I want him. I wouldn't want it any other way." I start towards the bank of the river and continue walking along the greenery of the forest.

As Ciri looked on as you walked, she watched in mystery. The forest seemed to bend to your will. The trees would part to make a path for you and the stones would roll out of the way, leaving only soft soil for you to walk on.

As you both reached your camp site, Geralt was dragging a large deer, and a cloth behind him that was filled. Probably with wood.

You and Ciri both put your jugs down as Geralt drops the sack of wood off near you and walks to the trees to skin the animal for food & it's hide.

You have the sense to build the fire and let Ciri light it later. She's normally sleepy when you build the fire. Makes it easier.

As you both run around, you find a good size patch of daisies.

"Ciri!" You call over the girl, "Come here!"

The blonde girl runs over to see what you're looking at.

"Would you like to learn how to make a daisy chain? You can even put one on Geralt, if you'd like." You throw out the tempting offer to make the Witcher seem silly.

And Ciri quickly agrees. You sit down, careful to avoid the daisies, and show her how to make a daisy chain/flower crown.

As the sun is no longer at its nice, warm heat and enters the baking heat, you take Ciri down to the stream again to clean up. 'The sun will dry us faster' was your reasoning to drag the girl with you.

As you are cleaning your clothes and yourself off, you see Ciri doing the same. Perfect.

"Hey, Ciri! Would you like to see something?"

"Um... What is it?"

"I promise, no harm will come unto you from me. It's just a little party trick."

"Ok..." She waded closer to you as you met her in the middle of the stream.

You magically gathered the sweat and water from Ciri and yourself, throwing it into the air and condensing the clouds around the sun to have more water, allowing the clouds to form a sort of circle around the sun. As the sun continues to shine, the clouds begin turn colors... briefly pink, then a light green, and there's a light blue! (Refer to the picture at the top)

Ciri looks at the sky in awe. "You can do this?" She points to the clouds.

"Yes. When I was at Aretuza, they taught not just politics and magic. They taught basic sciences. This was one of those. I had asked my teacher why there as a rainbow after every rainfall. She explained it to me. Since then, I had been practicing it until I was able to perfect it. Took a couple tries, but it came one day, and it stayed."

"And you never showed me?" A deep, hulking voice inquired from the shadows. Of course, the yellow cat-like eyes gave him away.

"I'm sorry, Geralt. I thought of it as a mere party trick. And it's not like it is helpful when we are off on adventures." I laugh and 'apologize' for not showing my husband sooner.

"You better be sorry!" He charges out of the woods and into the stream, getting both you and Ciri wet again, before lifting you by the waist and carrying you back to base on his shoulder. Everyone was laughing and peace was covering the three of them.

Just a moment of peace.

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

Author's Cup of Tea:

I am so sorry the ending was bad. I didn't know what to put for the ending so I winged it. Thank you all so much for your love and support of my work! I love to see everyone enjoying it.

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cowboygenesis · 3 months

Text

3: of thunderstorms | geralt x reader

part 3 of the "wild woman" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: nudity, smut, solo male masturbation.

word count: 11.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: if youre still reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me :) I've been finding a lot of joy in writing this fanfic despite the format being a little iffy for a reader insert (something i realized only 10k words into the fanfic har har). as usual, please leave feedback if you feel so inclined!

Geralt glanced into the greying sky, a sharp look on his resolute face as the light seeped through the sparse cracks of the stoney backdrop; a gentle reminder of the afternoon had begun to cascade down Geralt’s complexion just in time for their arrival in the town’s square.

Despite the upcoming downpour, the city streets kept flooding with life, crowds of people vigorously walking in and out of the center equipped with groceries, home supplies, and various homemade goods for sale.

Geralt watched as an elderly couple struggled to push the weight of a wheelbarrow filled with bags of groats, the husband’s solemn face contrasting his partner’s warm grin. She slapped his shoulder playfully, earning a hiss of annoyance.

“Stop! Come back!” came the cheerful giggle of a young girl, and the witcher stiffened as a group of children ran past his side, with one of the smaller boys bumping into the man’s muscular thigh.

The boy’s gaze rose, bright eyes meeting Geralt’s sharp stare. The few seconds between them must’ve felt like an eternity to the boy, or so the witcher thought. He was all too aware of his uncommon visage and expected most people, especially children, to react similarly to such a close and uncomfortable encounter.

His eyebrow raised suddenly as the child’s lips curled into a goofy, unapologetic grin. He giggled, tiny hands moving to push his body off Geralt’s armored limb, the force making his little body accelerate at speeds likely to make him eat dirt, and with the subtlest misstep, he almost did alright.

The boy dove through the crowd, and soon enough Geralt caught a glimpse of his blonde hair amongst his group of friends who engaged in a tug-of-war over a sewn, stuffed rag vaguely resembling a sheep. A soft giggle came from the saddle.

The witcher’s gaze flickered over his shoulder, catching a quick glimpse of the young woman riding his mare.

Her bare hands were raised and clasped above her head in an attempt to shield her face from the quickly accelerating downpour, a few drops cascading slowly down her elbow and soaking into the bouffant sleeve of her dress.

She was smiling; a warm, heartfelt smile that extended to her eyes and made her cheeks crease with dimples. Her gaze followed the small group of kids, decently amused at the brief ordeal. Her eyes shifted to Geralt.

Their gazes met, and she giggled again as if the awareness of Geralt’s sudden, reciprocated stare didn’t intimidate her in the slightest.

Her hand dropped to pet Roach’s mane, weaving her fingers through the thick strands and allowing her lips to form into a comfortable smile. She was enjoying their escapade, and it made Geralt wonder if riding a horse was that joyous of activity for common folk like her. But perhaps her smile was about something else entirely. He forced his gaze away.

“We’re almost there, turn right by that fencing,” the woman instructed through her everlasting smile, her right hand abandoning its post on the mare’s head to extend a finger towards the open plaza. Geralt hummed in understanding, relieved as the tight squeeze of the side street finally flooded into a much more spacious and comfortable area.

It was the beginning of harvest, and as his new companion had informed him on their way to town, an extensive market would be held in the square every day until the end of the moon cycle. ‘The sowing has been so bountiful the past few years, people struggle to sell their goods before they go bad,’ she had stated. Geralt wondered where all the acquired coin had been going, considering how modest the townsfolk looked.

Surely enough, the plaza had been set up into a miniature marketplace with an array of stick-and-cloth stalls lined up in two rows. Albeit far, Geralt could spot an array of different produce filling the wooden crates of around a dozen merchants, making the area almost unrecognizable from the state he had first seen it in the night prior.

The group made their way across the pavement, Geralt giving Roach’s reigns a gentle pull as they approached a cobblestone building nestled between a blacksmith and a general goods store.

A simple, wooden sign adorned the oaken doorway, rugged and chipped at the corners yet adorning a meticulous engraving:

‘The Novak’s Family Apothecary’.

The letters were uniform and bold, proudly advertising a decade-old familial business to the people of Posada and the neighboring towns. Below, in a smaller font: ‘Alchemy and Herbalism’. Strangely, ‘Alchemy’ had been viciously scratched off the slab, leaving a large gash in the otherwise polished surface.

“We’re here,” Maja stated, legs swinging back and forth along Roach’s sides as the group made their way through the insula’s archway. The narrow path led into an isolated square, much less populated compared to the center and harboring what looked to be communal living quarters.

Geralt trailed his gaze along the decrepit buildings and rain-slicked stone below his feet, then turned to pat Roach’s muzzle. He watched his companion shuffle around on the horse’s back, her skirt twisting and turning with the rapid movements and absorbing the increasing downpour that manifested in the form of small, dark spots scattered across the bright material. She grunted with a furrowed brow, struggling to find a proper angle to get down safely.

“Here,” Geralt hummed, reaching his arms to rest at the familiar spots on her dressed waist. She tensed her muscles at the touch, flexing under the soft corset and making the man readjust his grip. A thumb grazed gently along the material and the girl’s eyes shone with surprise, but the lack of resistance urged the witcher to continue his rescue.

“Thank you,” she replied tactfully as Geralt effortlessly rose her into the air then safely to the ground. Her boots made contact with the slick stone with a squeak, her hips and legs twisting around to adjust to standing.

“Gods… that was amazing. I haven’t ridden a horse in so, so long,” Maja exclaimed with a grin, carefully placing her hand on the horse’s muzzle. Geralt nodded, following in tandem with her movements. His gloved fingers significantly dwarfed hers at this proximity, and he noted the pulled, reddened skin around her fingernails as she patted Roach’s cheek. The mare whinnied softly, pushing into the girl’s grasp. “She’s such a good girl.”

“She likes you,” Geralt stated lowly, watching as his horse made gentle acquaintance with his new companion. The woman chuckled at the contact, amping up her pats and scratches.

“I like her, too.” She responded, glancing at Geralt’s face. Despite popular myth, witcher’s didn’t seem so frightening up close. If anything, Maja had grown to enjoy the tiny, obscure hints of smiles and chuckles that felt like such a rarity with the caliber of man Geralt happened to be. That moment was no exception, as her eyes trailed down to the man’s subtly raised mouth corners. It was a shadow of joy, and not so pretty, yet somehow the concept itself made the woman feel warm despite the accelerating downpour.

They were soon to be soaked. The minuscule, lightweight droplets had suddenly evolved into weighted beads, pattering aggressively against the metal gutters and forming reflective puddles in uneven areas of the pavement.

“We best get inside,” the man gruffed out, tugging at the hood of his linen cloak. He glanced at Maja, watching her hair dampen with the rain. He could have sworn he saw her shiver. “You go ahead, I’ll hitch the horse.” he nodded at her, reaching to grab the reigns.

“Allow me,” the woman retorted with a small smile, quickly wrapping her nimble fingers around the leather straps. Geralt watched with a raised eyebrow as clear droplets began trickling down her forehead and falling off the thick bedding of her upper lashes.

“I need to stop by that shop for a moment,” she perked up, extending a finger towards one of the doorways deeper into the square. The light from within was dim and flickered occasionally. Her head turned to face Geralt again, and he raised an eyebrow at her solemn smile as her fingers grazed the horse’s mane. “Besides, I… I haven’t done this in a long time. You know, cared for a horse. Just want to savor it while I can.” she ended sheepishly, glancing at her rain-slicked boots.

Geralt’s eyebrows raised subtly, his gaze scanning the girl’s lowered face. He hadn’t considered that such a simple, inherent part of his life would bring such pleasure to someone else. He had ridden horses all his life, so much so that it had become synonymous with walking. Alas, it wasn’t something he could be opposed to. The quicker he managed his interrogation, the quicker he could solve this town’s monster problem and trail ahead.

“Hitch her between the arches over there,” Geralt pointed toward the courtyard’s edge, simultaneously nodding at the girl’s request. She grinned in return.

“Oh! If it’s no issue, could you get me a bunch each of verbena and sage? Oh, and arrowroot. Big ones,” the girl perked up suddenly, raising a hand in question.

Geralt sighed, but before he could put his foot down, Maja had taken a step towards him. Her hand edged towards his sternum, gently pressing against his chest piece while her bright eyes made contact with his half-lidded ones. “Just mention my name. Miro’ll put it on my tab.” she smiled cheekily.

Geralt nodded once, maintaining eye contact to search her orbs for something hidden. The dark pools drew him in like a spell, refusing to let go.

Her grasp tightened on the reigns suddenly, and with a final chuckle and wave, she walked away. Her silhouette shrunk in the distance, and Geralt exhaled sharply at the faint sound of the girl’s one-sided conversation with Roach that morphed with the heavy patter of rain.

His feet carried him towards the front of the building once again. His hood had started feeling heavy with the weight of rainwater soaking into it, so the warm air hitting his face was a welcome feeling as soon as he creaked open the large, ornamental doorway to the alchemist shop.

He breathed in and looked around. It looked common, simple, exactly as every other shop of this kind he had seen in his extensive career. The wooden walls were lined with thin shelves and cupboards, each housing a handsome collection of vials, chalices, and corked bottles.

The witcher traced a hand along one of the larger vials, feeling along its decorative rivets. A thin paper card attached to the cork read ‘oil of parsnip’. He picked it up and swirled, the viscous, yellow liquid inside sloshing around with a soft gurgle.

“Oh, welcome! Come on in,” spoke a raspy, melodic voice, making Geralt look towards its source.

A tall, middle-aged man stood at the edge of the room, leaning against a wooden desk. His dark, curly locks stood taut in every direction, intertwined with thick threads of silver. The bump of his thin nose held the weight of circular rims through which the witcher could glimpse a hue of bright green.

“Quite the downpour, ain’t it?” he chuckled warmly as Geralt approached, fingers tugging at his hood to pull it back. The man was amiable, even after seeing the witcher’s white locks and wolf-head insignia.

“Quite,” Geralt retorted sternly, eyeing the thick, sheepskin ledger pinned under the alchemist’s hand. “Busy?”

“Oh, but not at all. This’s just that awful bureaucracy, y’know? They’re making me list my income every other moon. You probably know somethin’ about that, right?” the man panned a quill in the air, pointing it steadily down Geralt’s figure. “You seem like a kind of businessman yourself!”

“That’s one way to call it,” Geralt tilted his head with a hum, placing a gloved hand on the til’s rough surface. He leaned in, avoiding the bundles of dried lavender and white sage drying upside down on the ceiling. “But bartering is the best I can do if we’re talking business.”

The older man chuckled, clearly entertained by the witcher’s dry riposte. He shoved the journal to the side and straightened his posture as if he had just realized the situation.

“Tell me then, friendly barterer, what herbs do you seek? I’ve got everything, from plane ole’ mint to the rare white myrtle. Oils a plenty, too.” he advertised enthusiastically, gesturing towards the vials.

Geralt glanced at the shelves behind him, then turned his attention back to the seller. He approached the closest one and hovered his extended hand over the selection. Swiftly, he plucked out a small, smooth bottle. He swirled the yellow-green liquid inside.

“And these? Are they potions?” he questioned before watching the man’s eyes widen, mouth ajar slightly.

“No, ‘course not! No! We don’t sell potions here, only herbs and herbal oils. Ointments, that sorta’ of thing.” he protested, gleeful exterior suddenly deteriorating.

Geralt stood silent for a beat, eyeing the older man’s sweat-slick forehead and cheeks. The droplets thickened at his temples and slipped between the crevices of his wrinkles.

“I see,” the witcher finally spoke, nodding. The shopkeep seemed to drop his shoulders and sigh at his amicable response. “Are you Miro?”

“Miro. Miroslav. Yes, that’s me,” he replied quickly, the shadow of a smile returning to his lips. “How so?”

“Do you know a man by the name of Sylvanus?” Geralt questioned tactfully, leaning against the wall. “I’ve been told he supplies here. I need to know what he purchased this morning.”

“Ah… Sylvanus. Yes, yes. He’s a regular customer, has been since he arrived. A little off-beat that one, but intelligent, and good with herbs. Very, very knowledgeable in that area, yes, and always so polite! Secretive, too, but you know how those types can be, right?” Miroslav began cheerfully, yet straightened his demeanour once prompted to answer the witcher’s question. “But I’m afraid I can’t reveal the contents of my ledger, good sire. Maintaining the privacy of my clients is something our shop values greatly, really. And who might you be, anyway?”

Geralt placed the glass bottle down in front of the clerk and looked up at him with a nasty smile, the wolf-head amulet glistening in the gentle candlelight.

“Geralt. Geralt of Rivia. I’m here to investigate the suspicious activity happening in these woods, and I’ve gotten intel about a suspect visiting your alchemy shop. He’s a witch hunter. I have reason to believe he might be concocting something malicious with the ingredients acquired from you.”

Miroslav straightened up, lips formed into a tight line. There was a palpable tension that filled the air at that moment, one that caused a quiet ringing to echo inside the witcher’s sensitive ears. The rain pattered harshly against the window and roof, making Geralt wonder how Roach and his companion were faring.

“It… It could be true. But why? What would such a sophisticated, traveling folk like him gain from such a silly heist? People are dying from the beast, that beastie from the woods is what’s killing all my neighbors. Mr. Geralt, why? Why would Sylvanus do such a thing?” Miroslav harped, becoming increasingly distressed.

The instance of potentially being involved in something as serious as what Geralt was expecting was weighing on his psyche, as it would on most people. This guy simply wasn’t afraid to show the effects of it.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If you showed me your ledger, I might be able to help this town, other people in the future, from meeting the same fate,” the witcher hummed, placing a firm hand against the wooden till. “It’ll only take a minute of your time.”

Miroslav sighed, nervously eyeing the leather-bound book tucked safely behind a pile of similarly coloured journals. His fingers traced the former’s spine, shakily taking it out and dropping its full weight in front of Geralt. The witcher nodded approvingly, extending his gloved hand in reach of the cover.

Suddenly, a dainty, wrinkled hand slammed onto his. Geralt’s gaze rose, eyes meeting the clerk’s wide ones. His pupils were the size of pinpoints, cheeks rosy and sleek with sweat.

“Don’t tell the Baron about this. Please. I beg you don’t,” Miroslav whispered shakily, and Geralt hummed in return. “I know we can’t practice it. I know we can’t, and yet it’s in our nature. There are so many folks out here in desperate need of these potions, and me, my family, I just can’t let myself leave all of this behind just because of… one, God-forsaken incident!”

A heavy silence befell the old shop. The creaking of floorboards echoed into nothingness, interrupted by a distant roar of thunder. Geralt sighed.

“What incident?” he questioned, taking a confident step forward. He could sense Miroslav’s body tense at the gesture, yet he persevered with his tactics.

The older man shivered and gulped down thickly, making his Adam’s apple bob. Geralt watched intently, placing an unassuming hand over his belt.

“An implosion. Somethin’ completely otherworldly,” the shopkeep explained nervously, fiddling with his journal, “It happened maybe two decades ago, on a spring evening like today. It was like a shockwave, radiating from within a single home, not far from here. I was in the market then, and when that force hit me I must’ve flown at least a perch into the air, I swear on the Gods! The Baron ordered a search of the home and later told us townsfolk it was a simple alchemical miscalculation. Falkrov they were called, I think… a sweet, young couple with a great talent for magic. The same magic that ended up taking their lives that very night.”

“They passed?” Geralt questioned without a beat.

Miroslav frowned.

“Yes. The explosion was simply too powerful,” he heaved, “And that was it. I knew the Falkrov's, not too well, but things were amicable… they were a kind bunch, and helpful, too. But too curious. Too volatile.”

Geralt listened, nodding tactfully and urging the man to keep telling the story.

“Magic was no secret in our parts, quite the opposite, witcher. This land is a powerful energetical pulse point, harboring some kind of ancient magic for centuries before our people even thought to inhabit it. When I was a little boy, my mother would tell me stories of lights and voices coming from the nearby woods, creeping shadows, and chants of witches. It’s true, that’s what she would tell me. And I saw it too, that I did! Creatures from beyond this realm!”

“What did they look like?” Geralt interrupted promptly.

“Little faeries. Or pixies, maybe, I’m not so good with the names, you know. Glittering little beasts with wings. Some sort of gnomes, too, or… a little boy with large eyes, what do you call ‘em…”

“A Godling?”

“Well… sure. A Godling, yes. A young boy skimming stones over a pond. It was long ago when I saw him, at least three decades it must’ve been… we don’t go in the woods anymore, my wife and I. Folks say that’s where the Falkrov’s met their ill fate, and so they’ve haunted that soil ever since,” Miroslav continued somberly, “Nothing’s been the same since that day, Mr. Geralt. And recently, something has changed again. The woods aren’t safe no more, not even in the daytime.”

Geralt nodded, arms crossed as he watched the shopkeep open his journal. He licked his thumb and skimmed the yellowed pages fervently, humming something under his breath. Finally, he stopped. His eyes narrowed, landing a finger against a uniformly drawn table and sliding it down the page.

“I’ve lost hope for this town long ago, Mr. Geralt, but Sylvanus has managed to spark it back up again. He’s a brave man, bold. Goes into those woods on his own and makes sure they’re safe before any of our own folk head out themselves, and at the end of the day refuses our coin. It’s not something any ordinary man would do.”

“I know,” Geralt replied dryly, grabbing at the open journal and twisting it around to face him. The shopkeep’s handwriting was sloppy and thick, drilled forcefully into the pages below. “I plan on finding out what motivates him.”

Miroslav nodded apprehensively, hands crossing loosely against his chest as he watched the witcher get to work. Geralt scanned down the page, skimming through about a dozen names before finally reaching a familiar one.

“Nightshade and mandrake root,” Geralt spoke quietly, eyes narrowing at the chicken-scratch text. “Not a common purchase. Did he mention anything about these ingredients? What he was going to use them for?”

“No… not at all. I never question my clients’ choices, I feel it is against company policy to butt in like that. It’s none of my business, Mr. Geralt, sir.” Miroslav replied with a shrug, making the witcher sigh apprehensively at his nonchalance.

Within his mental compendium of herbology, Geralt searched for the two ingredients Sylvanus had purchased. Both were powerful, potent herbs used in ritual rites and deadly potions, something that a well-meaning passerby would never resort to purchasing; unless there was more to it than met the eye.

“Alright. Thank you, Miroslav,” Geralt nodded, closing the ledger with a quick slam. He watched as the shopkeeper nodded nervously, looking down at his shoes. His hands moved fervently at his sides, and before long he had withdrawn the book into a nearby drawer.

“Please… don’t do anything rash. I can vouch for Sylvanus, that I can. Perhaps I shouldn’t have revealed this information to you…” he spoke softly, eyes glassy with tears.

Geralt sighed once more, crossing his arms. "I won't act hastily," he assured Miroslav, though his tone carried an edge that made the shopkeeper swallow hard.

Miroslav nodded, looking relieved yet still anxious. "Thank you… thank you. I hope you find the answers you're looking for."

“I’ll take a bundle each of sage, verbena, and arrowroot. It’s for—” Geralt began.

“For Maja?” Miroslav interrupted promptly, perking up with a bright glint in his eye. He cleared his throat once becoming aware of his own enticement, mellowing down promptly. “Yes… yes, alright. You know each other, then? You and her?”

“She offered me information about the disturbances in this town.” the witcher replied promptly, slightly taken aback at the question.

Miroslav nodded with a smile, gaze boring into Geralt’s eyes. He lingered in that position for a while, before finally shuffling around the table to reach a large shelf near the ceiling. He hopped in place a few times, grunting as he attempted to reach the herbs resting atop the plank with a comical fervor.

Geralt rolled his eyes subtly, turning around and taking a long stride toward the struggling man.

“No, no! I got it!” he wailed suddenly, pushing Geralt away with his lanky hand. The witcher grunted at the unexpected strength, instead opting to stay back and watch the show from afar.

Finally, with one last jump, the older man managed to grab at the bundle of herbs and pull them down with a triumphant grin. “Here they are,” he said cheerfully, handing them over to Geralt. “I’ll put these on Maja’s tab.”

Suddenly, just as the witcher placed his hands against the thick bundle, he felt Miroslav’s nimble fingers grab at his wrists. He held on tight, almost uncomfortably so, holding Geralt’s gaze adamantly. “She… just, please stay diligent out there.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, noting the earnest concern in the alchemist’s eyes. “Appreciate it. Take care, Miroslav.”

The shopkeeper nodded in agreement, finally letting go of the witcher’s wrist. He felt the blood pulse back into his digits, opening and closing his fist at the numbness. He turned towards the door, opening the door and marching through unceremoniously.

“Take care, Geralt.” he heard Miroslav call out as the doors behind him closed with a loud thud.

As he stepped outside, he noticed the storm had grown fiercer. Rain lashed the streets and thunder boomed overhead, bright lights striking amongst the darkening clouds.

“Winds howling,” he muttered under his nose, feeling a harsh breeze brush against his cheeks as he opened his pouch. He sighed as he caught a whiff of the sage, tucking it away safely before taking a moment to enjoy the aroma.

“Geralt!” rang soundly in his ears, the familiar voice now strained and desperate. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. His peripheral caught a glimpse of something dark, a speckled form dashing right past his side. The adrenaline within his veins pulsed fervently and he scanned his surroundings for red. The witcher’s hand reached instinctively for his sword, yet stopped short when he recognized the creature dashing between the citizens.

It was the deer he had hunted earlier; alive and bounding through the rain-soaked streets, white tail bouncing with its agile strides. The townsfolk scattered promptly at the disturbance, yelling, gasping, and pointing as the animal sped past them, its hooves clattering against the cobblestones. His eyes grazed past the familiar patch of dried blood staining the animal’s white belly, centering around a deep gash.

Geralt's brow furrowed, body tense as his wolf-head medallion vibrated soundly against his chest. His ears rang as he brought his hand up, feeling the reverberating within his fingertips and frowning softly. It felt incomprehensible.

His mind raced as the deer flew past fearful townsfolk, bouncing off stalls and getting its soft fur soaked the few times it tripped over its hooves. It darted towards the edge of town, finally disappearing amongst the buildings.

He stayed put, letting the sword slide back into its hilt with a soft slash. Instinctively, his head turned, glancing into the courtyard and catching a familiar glimpse of a white apron.

He found Maja running towards him, face pale and eyes wide as she approached. She looked as shocked as the rest of the townsfolk, but there was something in her expression that Geralt couldn't quite place; a certain glint in her eye that he hadn’t witnessed in a long while.

"Maja," he called out sternly, in a panic, striding over to her. "The deer—"

"It’s alive," she interrupted, her voice trembling slightly as her hands motioned frantically in every direction. "It… it came alive. Just like that. I was leaving the shop, I just wanted to check on Roach, I wasn’t looking and—"

“What happened?” Geralt demanded, grabbing at her shoulders and keeping her from flailing. Her skin was soft to the touch and slick with rain. He squeezed gently, finding himself momentarily entranced by the proximity. He studied her closely, breathing deep and contrasting her small, shallow bellowings in an oddly pleasant symphony.

“I…” she began softly, gaze finally meeting his. Her eyes were wide with bewilderment and her pupils dark like pools of ink as she reached toward him. Her hand linked with his, holding firmly onto his tense forearm and mimicking the squeeze. It felt comforting, and Geralt found himself overcome with a sudden, inexplicable wave of ecstasy at the gentle pressure. “She came alive. The doe came alive.”

The rain continued to pour around them, the world fading into a blur as Geralt's focus zeroed in on Maja. Her lips parted slightly, and he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his. The proximity, the intensity of the moment, it all surged through him like a shot of adrenaline. Something about it felt strange, almost unnatural.

“Maja…” he started, his voice low and rough. Her name felt like a prayer on his tongue, an invocation of something deep and ancient. He could see the confusion and fear in her eyes, but there was something else there too—something that mirrored the turmoil within him.

Their breaths mingled, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still once again. Geralt’s gloved thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of rain. Her skin was soft beneath his touch, and he found himself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“We need to get out of here,” he added, sternly this time.

She nodded, her hand tightening around his forearm. The connection between them was palpable, a current of unspoken understanding and shared resolve that felt like an inexplicable spell; ecstatic, but otherwordly. He withdrew with a grunt, attempting to shake the strange feeling off.

Without another word, Geralt shrugged off his thick cloak and draped it over the woman’s shoulders, the heavy fabric cascading softly down her frame. The woman looked up at him, gratitude flickering in her eyes as she raised the hood over her head.

“Let’s go,” he urged, gently guiding her towards Roach. He undid the skillful fastening of the reigns against the pole and trailed ahead, feeling the woman’s presence just beside him.

The rain pounded down on them feverishly as they walked through the storm. Most of the crowd had dispersed by now, except an unlucky few stuck fixing the cracked stalls resulting from the sudden ambush from before, grunting as their hair became damp with the downpour.

Geralt remained silent in this voyage, his thoughts a whirlwind of the strange events as they crossed the plaza and made their way towards the tavern, thunder roaring wildly above them. In those moments, he could feel his companion’s body draw momentarily closer to him, her hands grazing unsurely at his side.

As they approached the tavern's entrance, Geralt adjusted his grip on the reigns. He turned towards Maja and issued a small, polite bow. “Thank you for the lead. I’ll make sure to take care of your… monster problem. Farewell.”

The woman curtsied back with a smile, yet it quickly shifted into a solemn, anticipating expression. The corners of her mouth turned downwards as she leaned in to grab his hand with two of her own. The contact made Geralt flinch, eyes narrowing instinctively at the touch.

“I’d like you to stay,” she began assertively, eyes shining with determination as she sandwiched the witcher’s gloved hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Her nimble hands felt strangely sturdy around his fingers. “Please, Geralt. You’ve shown me more kindness than I had ever expected, so it’s only right for me to return the favor. Come in, take a bath. Get warm. I’ll make us supper, if you like.”

Geralt studied her face, weighing her rare sincerity against his instinct to keep moving. Staying in one place always brought complications.

The rain was relentless, soaking them both to the bone, and the warmth of the tavern seemed increasingly appealing. The thought of a hot meal and a bath felt like a rare luxury nowadays.

“Alright,” he said finally, nodding.

Maja smiled, quickly getting to work and hitching Roach to the familiar wooden post. Geralt watched silently, noting the agility and apparent experience in her motions.

Once finished, she grabbed his arm again, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Come on, then! You smell like a wet mutt!” she said, yet her tone bared no hint of malice or teasing.

Geralt chuckled at the remark, the comfortable warmth of the tavern seeping into his bones as they finally stepped inside. The door behind them closed with a loud thud, drowned out by the music and chatter inside. “That’s no way to treat a guest,” he replied curtly.

“A very apprehensive guest,” she muttered, pulling him inside. The tavern’s interior was bustling with activity as usual for this time of day, patrons singing and laughing, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and ale. The bard currently performing seemed to be the same flaxen-haired woman as the day before, this time dressed in an intricate suit of purple and green.

“Maja! Our Majeczka!” came a voice from their left, making Geralt’s gaze drop to the stout, bearded man sitting amongst a crowd of similarly dressed patrons.

“Evening, everyone. Martijn, Jannick,” Maja replied cheerfully, giving the group a polite nod. “Just passing through.”

One of the guests sitting at the table, a tall man with a scarred face, leaned forward, leering at her. “Got yourself a new man, have you, girl? Bet you forgot all about us!” he teased, earning a round of guttural laughter from his friends.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed apprehensively, but Maja merely smiled, placing a hand on the scarred man’s shoulder. “Just a guest,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “Be nice, guys.”

Another man, younger and with a head full of unkempt hair, snorted. “Don’t see many witchers around here. Hope he’s not here to cause trouble.”

“Only if trouble finds me first,” Geralt replied calmly, his voice carrying a warning, subtext-filled tone that seemed to quiet the group down momentarily.

“Trouble, eh?” Martijn chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just keep your trouble away from our drinks, witcher. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Jannick, the scarred man, leaned back in his chair, still eyeing Maja. “You sure you’re just passing through, Majeczka? We’ve missed having you around. Thought maybe you’d be staying a bit longer this time, you know. Keep us company a while.”

Maja’s smile remained splayed across her face. “I’ll be right with you once I’m done with this one. You boys behave yourselves, alright?” she replied with a chuckle, motioning towards Geralt.

“Always do,” Jannick grinned, raising his mug in a mock salute. “You take good care of our girl, witcher. Wouldn’t want her getting broken.”

Geralt glanced at Maja in question, and she responded with a pleading gaze. Her hand squeezed his, urging them to continue.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” he said, meeting Jannick’s gaze with a steady look before heading on, following his companion’s steps.

As they turned the corner, Geralt watched Martijn raise his hand abruptly and give the woman’s arse a hefty, reverberating slap. She squealed tightly at the motion, her body tensing as the men proceeded to burst into ravenous laughter at her upset reaction.

Geralt tensed, sneering at the sudden physicality, swiftly striding towards the scarred man and preparing to give him a piece of his mind. Just as he raised his arm to swing, he felt a gentle touch of Maja’s hand against his chest.

“Geralt,” she muttered, gaze sharp and boring into his face. The air around her stilled suddenly, eyebrows high on her forehead as they exchanged challenging glances. He could sense the men beside them halt, watching the commotion unravel. “Don’t. Please.”

The witcher clenched his jaw tightly, muscles taut with the urge to strike at the rowdy patron. He met her gaze, seeing the unspoken plea in her eyes. With a deep breath, he lowered his arm, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He hummed calmly, yet his gaze betrayed his faux demeanor by shooting an ice-cold look toward the two men. They cowered slightly, yet the smiles remained on their reddened faces.

“Thank you,” Maja muttered quietly, eyes filled with gratitude as they walked towards the staircase. As they reached the balustrade, the laughter and jeers from the patrons followed.

“Mighty witcher, got him wrapped around her little lady finger!” one of them called out, causing another round of laughter.

Despite the comments, the pair urged on. Geralt could sense his companion’s pace quicken as she fled up the stairs, skirt flailing with her speed. The man followed promptly, tailgating the girl as she led him up a ladder hidden at the dead end of a corridor.

As they climbed their way up, the air began to feel thick with a familiar scent. Lavender and vanilla… but perhaps it was honey? The smell weaved around Geralt, enveloping him with a comforting, sweet fragrance that made the witcher hum thoughtfully. It felt sentimental, somehow.

The attic room was lined with shelves overflowing with jars and pouches of dried herbs, each labeled meticulously with elegant handwriting. Bundles of drying flowers hung from the rafters, casting a range of intricate shadows on the wooden floor below.

Books, weathered and well-loved, were stacked in precarious piles across a large oak table that dominated the center of the room. Some lay open, their pages yellowed with age, revealing intricate diagrams and notes scribbled in faded ink.

An unlit candle stood sentinel among the tomes, which Maja approached promptly, stumbling over some of the open books with a quiet gasp.

The room was dark, lit only through the presence of a round, glass window peering into the outside world and giving the two a glimpse into the heaving storm. Below it stood an unpolished desk stacked with stray pieces of paper and a clay mug, paired with a matching chair.

With a hum, Geralt took a seat in silence. His arms crossed as he watched the woman work at a box of matches.

“Thank you for respecting my wishes down there,” she said quietly, her back to him as she busied herself with lighting the candle. “They’re harmless, really. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“They shouldn’t treat you like that,” Geralt replied, his voice still tinged with irritation at the patrons and Maja’s haphazard way of managing them.

“I’ve dealt with worse, and I’m sure you have, too,” the woman said solemnly, turning to face the man with a small, tired smile. “Don’t look at me like that, Geralt. I don’t take their disrespect lightly, that much you need to know. But you must understand… I don’t wish to anger them. The life of a barmaid is a humble one. I don’t make much coin, and what I do make often gets privately cut by my supervisor. These people’s drunk foolishness and their bottomless pockets might just help me find a better life for myself, if not now or tomorrow, then one day.”

Geralt remained silent, gaze insistent on holding Maja’s as she spilled her heart out to him. He couldn’t say much, not out of disregard, but a lack of words. Their lives differed drastically, and giving advice seemed like a fruitless effort.

“And I’ve said too much again. Forgive me, it’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to unravel myself like this,” she chuckled, the warmth returning to her voice as it did to the room. The candle’s gentle flame rose, casting a soft, golden light onto the walls. “I want to know more about you. Tell me then, why are you here?”

Geralt dropped his gaze, arms squeezing over his chest as his mind pictured a vague image of a flaxen-haired woman. Her green eyes narrowed with a smile that mimicked Geralt’s, yet he made it falter soon after.

“I’m looking for someone important to me,” he spoke softly, bringing his eyes back to Maja’s. Her frame seemed to glow in the soft candlelight, eyes reflecting in shades of liquid gold as she smiled kindly at him, empathizing.

“Family?” the woman questioned softly.

“Not exactly, but close enough. She’s like a daughter to me,” he spoke, words tinged with a potent mixture of longing and determination. He settled into the chair, the flickering flame casting shadows that danced across his weathered face.

Maja stepped forward, kneeling in front of the witcher with a gentle smile. "Someone like a daughter... That's a strong bond," she remarked softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a well-worn book on the floor between them. "You must care for her deeply."

"And you're here, risking your life to find her," Maja observed, her gaze steady as she met his eyes. "That says a lot about you, Geralt."

He nodded again, the lines of his face softening ever so slightly in the warm glow of the candle. "It's what I do," he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet resolve.

Maja reached out, her hand covering his briefly in a gesture of comfort. "You're doing what you feel is right," she assured him softly. "And that's more than most."

Geralt nodded, his eyes distant as memories flickered behind them. "She turned out to be... special. More than I could have imagined," he admitted quietly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability in the way it shook. “Strong, too. I wonder how much she’s changed.”

“She sounds wonderful,” the woman replied tactfully, reaching a hand towards the witcher but faltering momentarily. She withdrew, gaze dropping. “Maybe I could meet her one day?”

Geralt’s eyes broadened at the suggestion, yet his body remained lax. Suddenly, he could imagine an instance where the two girls made friends. It was a vague and hazy thought, yet the idea made the man chuckle. “I think you two could get along,” he replied, legs relaxing and falling to the sides. “You both have a stubborn streak.”

Maja's smile widened, a mild laugh escaping her lips. "Stubborn can be a good thing," she remarked lightly, her eyes meeting Geralt's with a warmth that mirrored the candlelight surrounding them. "It sounds like she's lucky to have you looking out for her."

Geralt nodded in silent acknowledgment, appreciative of the girl’s words. He took a moment to take in the air, allowing the gentle fragrance to ease his nerves.

“Is there anyone looking out for you? Family, lover?” he asked suddenly, tone flat yet his eyes reflected a genuine interest. He had realised the two knew nothing about each other, and yet were sharing tender conversation in the intimate setting of a hearth. Regardless, he awaited a response.

"Someone looking out for me?" She sighed softly, her gaze drifting momentarily to the dancing flames before meeting Geralt's eyes again. "Yes, well... I do. But it's complicated."

Geralt nodded in a comfortable silence, sensing the weight behind her words. He hummed slightly, acknowledging her response without pressing further.

Maja shifted her body weight, the corners of her lips curling into a small, rueful smile. "You know," she began softly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness to lighten the moment, "You should ask me again under better circumstances… perhaps after an ale."

Geralt's lips quirked in response, a rare hint of amusement crossing his stoic expression. "An ale, huh?" he mused, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of warmth. "I'll keep that in mind."

With another chuckle, Maja rose gracefully from her position, brushing invisible dust from her skirts. "Alright. Now, how about that bath?" she suggested lightly, her tone shifting as she moved towards a small door leading to an adjoining room. Her head turned to face the witcher one last time. “Don’t miss me too much, okay?” she giggled playfully and swiftly disappeared into the darkness ahead.

As Geralt watched the woman go, a flicker of admiration and curiosity brewed within his gut. He settled back against the wall with a sigh, allowing himself a moment of solitude to reflect on the unexpectedly inward conversation.

The storm continued to rage outside, and Geralt could hear the gentle sound of pouring water in the room over. He closed his eyes, allowing the ambiance to soothe his thoughts, meditating silently until he heard a soft, muffled singing. He couldn’t quite make out the words of it, but its rhythm felt solemn and strangely familiar.

As he let himself sink into the brief, comforting feeling of the moment, the singing abruptly stopped, followed by the sound of the doorway opening up again.

“Geralt,” his companion spoke soothingly, trying to get his attention yet staying careful as to leave his rest undisturbed. “Your bath is ready.”

The witcher nodded, promptly standing up and catching a glimpse of the woman’s flushed cheeks. As he approached, a warm, steamy current enveloped his tired face.

“Follow me,” Maja invited him with a smile, gesturing to come in. As he did, the air turned hot and stuffy. He skimmed around the small room, noting how similar it was to the first one, save for the books and journals.

Lines of herbs littered the ceiling, giving the sizzling air a soothing fragrance. In the center of the room stood a considerable wooden bathtub, its flanks polished smooth from years of use. The atmosphere had been prepared meticulously, water steaming deliciously as a fresh set of towels lay on a small stool to the side.

"Thank you," he declared sincerely, turning to meet her gaze. Her skin had grown slick from the moisture, and she puffed gently as she grinned.

“Least I can do for you,” she shrugged politely, curtsying as she headed for the main room. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be reading in the room over.”

Geralt nodded. The temperature had made his current getup uncomfortable, and so his hands had already begun toying with the clasp of his leather belt.

As he watched the door close, he sensed a rush of adrenaline surging through his body. In a point of weakness, his hand extended towards the girl.

“Share it with me,” he uttered assertively, just in time to glimpse the doorway stop, then swing back open, revealing a puzzled face and creased eyebrows.

“Share with you?” she questioned, cruising over to reveal her full body. Her hand glided off the doorknob slowly as she awaited an explanation.

“The bath. Share it with me,” the witcher replied promptly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the woman’s face for a hint of apprehension or rejection.

Yet, it never came. Her bewildered expression gradually shifted into one resembling gratitude and… mischief. Her eyebrows softened, eyes half-lidded as her lips curled into a muted smile. “You want to bathe together?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at her figurative remark, continuing to finger at his belt and finally feeling it come loose. He could sense Maja eyeing his midriff, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the shamelessness and the wideness of her eyes.

“I enjoyed our conversation, and wish to continue it,” he explained matter-of-factly, fingers trailing up to his breastplate. He began to work at the buttons there, skillfully undoing the intricate ties and letting the armor fall to his feet. “So, bathe with me.”

Maja hummed at the scene, taking a testing step forward whilst maintaining feverish eye contact with the witcher’s armorless torso. He felt so unspeakably light now, unburdened from the weight of his protection. He nodded at her, slowly tugging at the dark linen shirt dressing his toned body.

“So, so, outrageous, witcher,” Maja chuckled playfully, taking a long stride towards him. She gave him a lingering look as she passed, eyeing the soft trail of white lining his strong lower belly as he stretched to discard the shirt into a nearby corner. The woman chuckled, and his gaze followed her movements as she quickly disappeared behind an intricate partition separating the bath from the far side of the room. “Don’t you feel indecent, undressing like this in front of a lady?” she smiled, tone laced with slight sheepishness.

Geralt chuckled warmly, watching as the girl’s silhouette moved behind the thin, half-opaque part of the screen. She arched her back, grabbing at the clasps to her corset and undoing it promptly before he heard it drop to the floor, eyes insisting on her form. Next, she worked at her skirts, skillfully unbuttoning the back and letting them fall to the ground with a quiet thud. She was now left in her undergarments, the bouffant textile revealing less and less to the imagination.

“I could say the same for you,” Geralt retorted, mimicking the shadowy figure by sliding down the rim of his pants and codpiece. He sighed airily at the lack of constraints around his body, allowing the steam to nip gently at the exposed skin.

Maja laughed in return, her figure turning to face him. Somehow, even through the thick partition, he could feel her warm, challenging gaze scouting down his sweat-slick body.

“I feel like you’re looking at me, witcher,” she commented quietly, pausing to play with the elastic waistband of her bloomers.

“And how could you tell?” he questioned, hovering his gaze over the spot he assumed her eyes to be in.

She made a quick, incomprehensible sound at the response, something between a chuckle and a sigh. The fingers under her waistband lifted suddenly, soft fabric dropping to the ground.

Geralt observed the shape of her hips, the delectable way they curved at the widest point, then dipped. For a split second, he wondered how soft her thighs could feel beneath his rough palms.

“Intuition,” she responded at last, voice smooth and confident as her brasserie finally came undone.

Geralt followed suit, removing his own undergarments in an unusually slow matter. In a way, he wanted to savor the feeling of brief vulnerability, both physical and emotional.

He came forward, stepping into the bath cautiously and letting the heat envelop him. The warmth spread from his digits, up to his legs, and finally lapped up against his chest as he submerged.

On cue with the quiet splashing, he witnessed Maja shift behind the partition. “Close your eyes, okay?”

The man abided in a heartbeat, lids shutting tight as he adjusted his arms on either side of the tub, pecs flexing with the stretch.

He heard her soft, wet footsteps tapping against the wooden floorboards, approaching slowly and cautiously. The ambiguous darkness in front of him gave birth to a fuzzy image of the doe, its hooves prancing against the soft moss of the forest floor.

“Don’t peak,” she added through a grin, and the thought alone made Geralt’s eyes shift behind his lids. Regardless, he persevered.

Soon enough, he felt a small current splash against his chest, paired with the proximity of his companion entering the bath.

Once his eyes fluttered open, he watched the water ripple around her nude body. The woman’s skin looked soft to the touch, yet was littered with numerous scratches and bruises. They trailed along her arms and chest, or at least as far as his eyes could reach beneath the water’s sudsy surface.

Geralt readjusted his sitting, leaning comfortably against the edge of the tub. He noted the distance between them, far enough to keep their bodies apart yet close enough for the witcher to gauge the sparkle in the woman’s eyes.

He glanced down her body and watched her smooth her hand over the crystal clear surface, digits brushing over some greenery he had failed to notice before— eucalyptus and calendula. Their scents mingled, creating a soothing, thick atmosphere in the air between them. He reached out, brushing a petal aside with his fingers. “You know your herbs,” he commented, glancing up at Maja. “These aren’t just for show.”

The girl smiled softly, a touch of pride in her eyes. “Herbs have their uses beyond potions and poisons. A good bath, tea, or ointment can heal the mind as much as the body.”

He nodded at her small wisdom, nipping at the small, yellow flowers with his fingertips. “You said you knew Miroslav,” he observed, his tone suddenly stiffening at the recollection. “And a lot better than you initially let on.”

Maja’s expression grew thoughtful, a glint of sentiment clouding her half-lidded gaze. “Miro… is someone important to me. My childhood was complicated, or rather… became complicated at some point. He and his wife, they took me in, no questions asked. Nurtured me, helped me stand on my own… protect myself, make a living. I owe them a lot, including what I know now,” she said, her voice softer. “He’s my own Ciri.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the subtle undercurrent in her tone. Despite the limited information on Maja’s part, the subtle comparison to Ciri made Geralt’s lips tighten solemnly, a hum escaping his throat as he regarded his next words carefully. “He seemed worried about you.”

Maja looked away swiftly, her fingers playing with a strand of wet hair that cascaded down her shoulder. “Yes, he worries about me often. It’s nothing serious, I just…” she began, eyes darting around the room and landing on the window. She breathed in deeply.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued at the sudden quiet. “Just what?” he prompted, leaning his body forward as a learned intimidation tactic. He didn’t feel it was appropriate in the situation, yet his habits betrayed him.

Maja sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she allowed her eyes to connect with Geralt’s again. “The killings in the forest, that monster… they’re worried for me, that’s all. And I don’t blame them one bit, every one of us has been on edge recently… nobody knows what’s lurking out there, or perhaps they’re just too scared to find out.”

Geralt stayed silent through the woman’s monologue, allowing her to reveal the information bit by bit.

Maja’s fingers stilled in the water, her expression becoming guarded. “There’s a lot of history to this land… a lot of needless suffering that happened in these woods. It’s not something anyone can take back, but… I think there’s a reason for what’s been happening.”

“You’re being cautious,” Geralt replied lowly, studying the woman’s face closely. He noted the subtle rise of her eyebrows at his unusual sternness and so decided to lean in closer. He felt his hand brush against Maja’s nude calf, and she flinched at the soft physicality. He didn’t withdraw.

“Anything you can tell me might be useful,” Geralt pressed gently. “Even the smallest hint could make a difference.”

Maja hesitated, her gaze dropping to the swirling water below. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the vibrant glow of her slick skin. She traced a finger along the edge of the bathtub, thoughts seemingly lost in turbulent depths.

“There are… stories,” Maja began slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “About something ancient that roams this land. Some call it a pulse point, a powerful epicenter of some sort.”

Geralt nodded thoughtfully, absorbing her words. “Do you believe these killings are connected to that?”

Maja hesitated again, her lips forming a thin line. “I… I don’t know, Geralt,” she admitted reluctantly. "People have always been unkind to that which they perceive as different."

The witcher stiffened at her words, eyes widening slightly and taking in the woman’s somber expression. Somehow, it felt like there was a sentiment in her language, the way she frowned, how the candlelight illuminated her pronounced nose and soft brow ridge.

“And yet it’s something that has never discouraged you before,” he began quietly, crossing his arms over his legs, attempting to close the gap between them.

“It’s complicated,” Maja replied hastily, rubbing at her arm. “But I bet you’d understand. How does it feel, Geralt? Being a witcher?”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. He had thought about this question often, staring at the night sky for hours until a glint of explanation manifested, anything to satiate his search for identity; alas, it never appeared as expected. “It feels like an urge. A calling,” he began slowly, his gravelly voice carrying the weight of solemn memories and lost lives. “It’s about survival, strength, a sense of duty. But it’s also about choice— choosing to protect those who can’t protect themselves, even when they despise you for what you are.”

Maja listened intently, her eyes searching his face as if trying to unravel the layers of stoicism and strength he wore like armor. “It sounds lonely,” she remarked softly, almost to herself.

“It can be,” Geralt admitted, his gaze drifting to the flickering candlelight dancing on the water’s surface. “But every once in a while, you meet someone who reminds you why you keep going.”

She met his eyes then, her expression softening. “Like Ciri.”

Geralt nodded, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Like Ciri.”

Maja nodded, pondering the connection. “The way you speak about her… it’s admirable. You might have a tough shell, but I bet there’s a soft heart somewhere in the depths of your chest.” she ventured gently.

Geralt regarded her with surprise, eyes widening at the heartfelt comment. He sighed softly, allowing her words to wash over him in a moment of silence.

Maja met Geralt's eyes again, her expression thoughtful. She raked a hand through her dampened hair, body sinking deeper into the water. “When will you depart?” she asked gently, “Posada, that is.”

Geralt considered her question, his gaze drifting to the vague outline of the woman’s thighs gliding beneath the glassy tile of water. “It’s not a question I can answer easily,” he confessed, “There are still things I must attend to here. It’s what fate had in store for me, and so I must honor it.”

“And where will it lead you next?” Maja pressed softly, her eyes probing.

Geralt shrugged narrowly, an unsightly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Here, for now,” he replied. “The Path is a cryptic code with no set rules or requirements, no moral compass or direction. Wherever it takes me, so mote it be.”

The woman nodded gently, allowing her arm to swim silently across the space separating them. She let it slide across his forearm, dipping down to brush at his battered knuckles. “You’re welcome here,” she said sincerely, voice tinged with warmth. “As long as you need.”

“Appreciate it,” Geralt murmured, yet his yearning digits betrayed the nonchalance of his tone. He let the woman explore his palm, feeling her fingertips graze at his rough skin and caress the countless scars there.

He felt it again— the sweet, palliative aroma of lavender and honey. It churned in his nose, sending paroxysms of euphoria throughout his body and sending him into a bizarre overdrive. His fists clenched as he attempted to wash the feeling away, rasping under his breath at the intensity of the sensation.

Suddenly, the woman leaned in. The water rippled in waves as her legs repositioned, allowing her leverage and better control over her stirs.

“Geralt,” she chanted quietly, soft breasts peeking out of the water as she rose on her knees. The witcher observed, hopelessly entranced by the smooth, slick skin and the rouge peaks of her nipples as they emerged from beneath the surface. The sky outside roared, and in the heat of the moment, Geralt uncovered an aching to reach out and touch her skin, feel the warmth of it, caress at the curves of her body.

“What is this?” he questioned through gritting teeth, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he navigated the strange intoxication flowing through his body. “This smell—”

“Lavender and honey,” they said in unison, voices echoing in a remarkable, reverberating symphony that echoed within the witcher’s drunken mind.

The woman stopped, her hand entwined in Geralt’s larger one as they exchanged gazes. He felt stuck in place and time, watching her pupils dilate into two black discs. The witcher inhaled sharply, letting a barely audible grunt sneak past his parted lips, harmonizing with the strong patter of rain outside.

Suddenly, thunder struck down with the blinding glow of nearby lightning. The sound pulsated within the atmosphere, weaving into the tantric air, making his companion flinch with a loud yelp and momentarily clearing the witcher’s murky vision. He stiffened, hand tensing around Maja’s before she slowly sunk into the water again, withdrawing from his fervent grip. She gazed at him, eyes sparkling as he rubbed at the lingering feeling of her extracted touch.

Geralt blinked rapidly, adjusting his body and squeezing at his palms. He sighed, head shaking gently as he tried to recalibrate, his confusion briefly overshadowed by his companion’s harsh reaction. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, voice subdued yet somewhat dismayed. “Just a storm.”

Maja nodded, her breath still hastened as she took in the reassuring sight of Geralt’s sturdy form. She exhaled loudly, trying to rescue her composure, and offered him a faint smile tinged with gratitude.

“Just a storm,” she nodded along, body sliding downwards and allowing her head to submerge fully. She lingered there, long hair floating beneath the surface like a bundle of dark sea kelp, matching the gentle ebb and flow of their bath.

Surfacing, she let her hair cascade down her shoulders in shiny ribbons, quickly brushing it back with stray droplets shimmering in the candlelight. Geralt’s lips twitched in a dry chuckle. “Any better under there?”

“Much,” the woman answered quietly, tilting her head and beaming softly. They sat in a restful silence, the woman beginning to gently brush her calf against his and watching for a reaction. He held her gaze, staying put and abiding by the physicality, watching her benevolent gaze falter to gloom. She withdrew momentarily, splashing at the water.

“I’ll get the sheets ready,” she declared politely, shifting her arms to get out of the bath. Her eyes suddenly met his, and she quirked an eyebrow. “Eyes closed now.”

Geralt tilted his head quizzically, yet the woman’s increasingly stony expression urged him to comply. He felt a gentle splash followed by gentle, quiet trickling as the girl made it out of the wooden tub. Suddenly, against his better judgment, Geralt’s eyes fluttered open, just enough to catch a subtle glimpse of his companion’s backside.

The witcher gazed down her shoulders, watching them flex and release as she squeezed her hair dry. The grove of her spine descended a slick slope, smooth skin harboring a constellation of scattered moles. He hummed, taking note of the two dimples decorating her lower back, and finally reaching the soft flesh of her ass. He stared for a while, admiring, feeling like a hungry wolf watching his delicate prey pasture in a field. He grunted quietly at the unchaste thought, deciding to shut his eyes again in a moment of foreboding clarity.

He heard some shuffling, stomping around, a grunt or two, and finally a gentle voice. “Okay, you can look now.”

His eyes reopened, no hint of mischief in their glassy surface. The woman appeared before him, dressed in a large, linen slip. The white cloth bared irregular patches of wetness scattered across its surface, making Geralt suppose she dressed in a hurry; perhaps as a habit.

“I’ll get everything ready for you. Relax and enjoy the water while it’s still hot, okay?” she giggled warmly, flashing the man a giddy smile. He nodded in understanding, leaning back against the bath’s flank.

For a split second, Maja hesitated. She stood in place, doorknob in hand, yet refusing to twist. She gazed over Geralt’s exposed chest, across his strong arms, and down the faint outlines present beneath the suds. Her face glowed in the soft lights, casting a soft shade of pink across her nose, temples, and cheeks.

“Thank you,” his companion started loudly, wincing at her own shrill. She cleared her throat to recompose herself, beginning again. “For listening. I haven’t said so much in one sitting in a long, long time.” she giggled.

The witcher’s lips parted to speak, but before he could utter a word, the woman shot him a reassuring grin and disappeared behind the door. The man sighed, taking in the sudden silence, or what felt like a silence. The storm continued to rage outside, intermitted by soft sloshing and Geralt’s steady breathing.

He shut his eyes and sighed meditatively, enjoying the warm bath and gentle kindness of a stranger for just a second longer, or at least for as long as the night allowed. He thought about the deer, the journal in the woods, Miroslav, Maja… the memories of that day flashed behind his eyes like a storybook, making him sigh in exasperation. He thought of her soft breasts and the way they bounced with her subtle movements, her plump thighs and delicate waist, ideal for sinking his palms into…

Geralt grunted softly. Unbeknownst to him, his hand had begun dipping down his stomach and trailing along the soft patch of flaxen. He stroked that area, humming quietly as his digits passed down a pulse point, feeling the mild, rhythmic pumping of his blood.

The witcher flexed his back, adjusting for comfort and letting his hand slide lower. As he reached the base, he let out a soft moan escape his throat. The gentle pressure made him shiver, a strong inflow of blood causing him to engorge against his palm. He pressed at the soft flesh of his cock, feeling it pulsate rhythmically to the beat of his heart.

Thunder crashed, and his mind flooded with images of her bare ass. He furrowed his eyebrows at the lewd picture, surprised at its immense clarity within his memory. With a soft pull, he began working at his thick length, remembering the shallow dimples on her lower back. Each stroke elicited the softest of grunts from him, progressively quickening the pleasurable motion.

He thought about her voice. With every pull, he imagined hearing her chant his name, moan, and mewl in pleasure as he pounded into her with a vigor he was certain she hadn’t experienced before.

His hand grew into a fist, lips a tight line as he pumped his cock. Eyes half-lidded, he glanced over at the doorway where he last saw her leave. The memory of aromatic lavender and sweet, sticky honey enveloped his senses, hand gliding smoothly against the hardness of his length at the intoxicating thought of the fragrance.

Geralt could feel himself reaching his limit. His lips fell apart, teeth clenched tight while his hand stroked rhythmically, picking up the pace and pressure. He could feel his cock throbbing between his digits, gently enveloped by the warm water current that only elevated the fierce affair.

“Fuck…” he called out breathlessly, head rolling back to hit the brim of the bathtub. He bucked his hips into his open hand, picking up a rough, animalistic rhythm. He fucked into the hole, eyes closed to let his mind roam where it wanted to be most at the moment. He imagined grabbing her soft thigh, squeezing at its soft flesh and pounding, fucking, ramming—

“Gods, fuck—” he hissed suddenly, feeling the tension brewing inside his stomach, extending rapidly throughout his lower body and spine, bucking his tired hips one last time until… he went over the edge. With a tremor in his hand, he felt his entire being come undone as his hot seed spilled into the bath, mixing with the salty beads of sweat cascading down his flexed muscles.

The witcher breathed heavily at the comedown, whispering quiet praises into the humid air that reached nobody but the silent flames of candlelight. With a gentle sigh, he felt a wave of primal ecstasy and relaxation wash over his strained body, soaking his skin with sparks of electricity.

Then, there was silence. The man’s heaving calmed, and before long, he felt a strange longing brewing in his stomach. In one instance, he began scooping water over his flaxen hair, letting it dampen and soak.

Once he was done, he withdrew from the warm comforts of the bath and faced the inevitable, unforgiving chill of the attic. He stood there, watching the soapy water cascade down his heated body, and considered his companion. It was a peculiar feeling, an elaborate blend of culpability and interest as he evaluated his prior acts. Despite his fiendish looks and capabilities, even witchers craved the mortal touch of a warm woman.

Exiting the bath felt like a necessary evil as the cool breeze began seeping through the half-open window. Geralt huffed as he wrapped a towel around his waist, quickly enrobing himself in a simple linen shirt and pants. Once done draining the water and drying off properly, he slowly made his way through the elusive doorway to the other room.

The scent of autumn rain and thunderstorms hit his nose immediately. A soft, palpable freshness of the soil that soothed his senses and lulled him into oblivion within seconds.

Taking another step forward, he noticed the dimness of the room. The stray candle had been put out, instead replaced by a burnt-out yet still fragrant stick of incense that clouded the room in a cozy, aromatic haze.

His eyes glanced around the perimeter, taking note of how much neater the space looked. The stray books littering the floor were now perched neatly on top of each other, while the sheepskin rug lay flattened next to the bed.

Curiously, on it lay his companion.

Her soft, damp hair cascaded down an intricately embroidered quilt, her limp body cocooned safely within its warmth. The bed next to her had been carefully made, complete with a fresh set of clean linen and a soft, inviting pillow.

Geralt couldn’t help but sigh at the peaceful scenery. He walked over quietly, making sure to keep the woman’s peace undisturbed. He crouched down, letting the soft, airy groans of the girl fill his body with warmth and comfort. She was sound asleep, tucked in like a baby lamb.

Without hesitation, he placed a slow, secure hand under the woman’s back and knees. Effortlessly, he lifted her off the sheepskin, feeling her weight sink into his strong arms.

Her skin felt searing, and so, so satiny after the long bath they had taken together. He glanced at her face, admiring the placid, sheer expression on her tired face. In the soft glow of the night, she seemed to be smiling.

After a prolonged beat, Geralt rose and took a step towards the made bed. He unraveled the fresh sheets and gently pressed the woman’s body into the mattress. She sighed at the motion, yet her eyes remained shut. She shuffled around, finding a comfortable position on her back and quickly pulling the covers up to her chin.

He leaned in, placing a gentle hand against her covered shoulder. She sighed at the touch, eyebrows softening instantaneously. Geralt chuckled gently, lingering for a moment, yet finally deciding to withdraw. He gazed upon Maja’s face for a while, picking at the moles and imperfections littering her skin, up until her body shifted to face the wall. Her hair flowed gently down her back, gliding like shining ribbons upon the soft quilt.

With a soft sigh, he finally withdrew from her sleeping form. He sat on the sheepskin carpet, allowing his body to relax against the hard, wooden floor. After many decades of similar, if not worse, conditions, it was something he had grown used to.

With a guttural groan, he stretched out his limbs, letting them fall naturally to his sides. He twisted to the flank, leaning against his forearm and catching yet another peek of his sleeping companion.

Maja had curled in her sleep once more, this time facing him fully. He skimmed her features for a while, counting the tiny moles resting upon her cheeks and forehead that spread across her face like a small galaxy. As he continued, the soft buzz of rain lulled his mind to a quiet rest. His eyes gradually closed, eyebrows came lax, and ultimately, the last memory of that day was the delicate scent of lavender and honey mingled with her gentle smile bidding him goodnight as he fell into sweet oblivion.

—

Deep into that faithful night, whenever thunder would strike the small town of Posada, Geralt would feel the delicate embrace of a woman’s hand as it caressed the scars of his own.

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sayafics · 1 year

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Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter IV

Hey guys! Sorry for taking such a long break, I had a lot of fsmily events over the last few weeks and had a hard time juggling time.

I do hope you enjoy the update, though. I think this chapter will be the last for this series unless there's specific prompts/ideas you want to see. (If so, let me know in the comments or asks! I'd be v happy to write them <33)

TW: implied SA, slight violence

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist

Geralt had searched for months, the days scraping by as he looked for Andromeda in every shadow, in every smile, in every laugh that haunted him on his travels.

He had left his friends - left them all so he could find her.

Cirilla was safe with Yennefer at Aretuza, and Jaskier had wandered to distant lands, his heart full of broken ballads of an unfinished journey.

Geralt and Yennefer had kept a tentative friendship, ever so cautious to not overstep the boundaries Geralt had so diligently drawn up. Friendship came to them with ease, but every interaction was soured by guilt from one party and longing from the other.

Geralt ventured through the continents, unsure of what guided him and where. His mind was bare of thoughts and his heart burning with emotions he had never been taught to deal with. He was a mess.

He had barely slept since Andromeda had left, living off the scarcest meals as his stomach turned to lead at the idea she may be starving in some backwashed village all because he had messed up and sent her running.

Andromeda was a princess. She was not made for the life he lives. Yet she still followed him into danger, still healed his every wound, and still stood bravely in the face of death if it meant Cirilla would be okay.

She trusted Geralt, trusted him to help them survive, to help them live and find a purpose. Now she was alone, far from them all. And he did not even know if she was safe.

Andromeda was an enigma, a presence so addicting he felt his skin crawl at the realisation he had been so far apart from her for so long. His heart would burn as it longed for her. His mind was plagued with the sound of her voice, his skin imprinted with the sensation of her hands brushing against his skin as she took care to treat his wounds after every battle, his eyes tracing her silohuette in the shadows as he forced himself to sleep at night.

Months.

Months of searching and no success.

Geralt was laid back in a bed, facing the ceiling as he laid an arm over his forehead and scrunched his eyes closed in defeat. He couldn't get her out of his head, her eyes burned into his mind, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he would pretend she was watching him as he slept. Ever a watchful eye, a caring friend, a loving mate.

Perhaps that was why this situation took him by surprise.

He smelt it - a deep and honeyed scent of orange blossoms and jasmine tickling his senses as he leapt up from his place on the bed.

He inhaled deeply, a wild beast searching for its prey. His shoulders tensed as he leapt up to replace his sword and dagger into their respective belts, hands rummaging through blankets and over furniture to collect trinkets and vials he had thrown carelessly across the tavern room as he lost himself in his grief.

Geralt marched through the tavern he had taken residence in, deaf to the cries of indignation of drunk patrons he barged past and eyes seeking a familiar head of hair in the crowd.

His senses led him far from the tavern he hoped Andromeda was hidden in, pushing him to march towards the outskirts of town.

Geralt had never found himself fearing for his life, never had he faced a creature he could not slay and never had he doubted the skills instilled upon him from infancy.

Yet, in this moment now, as he tore through the wilderness in the careful embrace of the night sky, the air thick with fear and horror as the smell he had been craving - the smell he had been fantasising about for months - made itself known to him and grew stronger as he drew closer, he felt a shred of fear wedge itself in his heart.

He could hear a stuttered heartbeat, ragged breaths, and a cloying scent of terror threatened to burn his eyes.

He dared not speak a word, fearful even the faintest whisper would turn his trail into phantom sensations, and he would be following nothing but an echo. A ghost of the woman he had lost.

Still, his shoulders were raised in determination, eyes narrow as he searched through overgrown shrubs and low-hanging trees, head on a swivel as the hand on his right side twitched, ready to reach for his sword if a threat made itself known.

"Please..."

It was a quiet whisper, a pleading whine. And that's how Geralt knew.

It was her.

He would recognise the melody of her voice anywhere. He could be holding onto this life by a thread, and her voice would the only thing he wanted. Needed.

Geralt broke out into a sprint, hand drawing out his sword as he feared what creature could have her so subdued by fear.

He came to a stumbled halt as he took the scene in ahead of his, hand tightening around his sword as a threatening sneer painted itself across his face.

There she stood with her back to him, she was dressed in leathers. They looked clean, neat. Next to her foot laid a single dagger, the hand that seemingly held it before had blood flowing from it, ruby pearls cascading down her fingers to seep into the damp soil.

The sight reminded him of the night with the ghouls, of how he had bled similarly before running to find her, only to miss her by a hair's breadth.

He had found her now.

But she was not safe.

Her back was to him, but he could see how her figure trembled in fear, a calloused hand twisted itself into the careless waves her hair had been flowing down her back in, a knife held to her throat as a man threatened her with a painful death, and forsaken torture.

It didn't take long for the pair to realise someone had joined them, and as the assailant took in Geralt's presence he twisted the girl harshly so her back was against his chest, the hand in her hair tugging her head back so he could press the knife harshly into her skin.

"Geralt."

Andromeda's eyes were wide, pupils blown by fear and mouth parted in surprise.

She looked... good.

She looked healthy, and had it not been for this moment he had stumbled upon, Geralt was sure she had been safe too. The hollows of her face had filled slightly over the months she had been gone. Her eyes no longer held an ache and were not weighed down by pain and longing. As though she had been eating properly, and was able to sleep through the night despite her fear of the dark.

"Rory..."

Her face shuttered at his whisper, drawing in a sharp breath as she ignored the threat of the man behind her and focused on taking in the man who stood in front of her.

Despite all his betrayals, all the hurt he had inflicted upon her, despite his harsh words and unprovoked actions, she found a weight lifting from her shoulders at the sight of him.

He looked ragged, as though he was worn down and tired. And some part of Andromeda was selfish enough to hope she was the cause of it.

A wince escaped her as the man pressed the knife harder against her throat, feeling a warm trickle down her throat, pooling at the hollow at the base of her nack.

A growl ripped from Geralt's throat, "let her go and I'll give you a quick death."

The man scoffed, "an' why should I do that? She's mine, I found 'er first. Get lost Witcher, we don' want y'r lot 'round here."

Geralt huffed in amusement, taking a step foward as he raised his sword higher in a show of promise, "what do you want? If not a quick death."

The man's eyes narrowed, his dark, bushy brows drawing into a frown and peeking past the strands of ebony hair that fell over his face in rivulets. His face had paled when he caught sight of the Witcher, but now it began to redden at the reminder of the cause of his indignation, "this bitch stole me silver. I need repayment, so 'm here t' get it. Been huntin' her down for weeks now, quick little brat, this one. Think I deserve a reward."

A leering smile stretched across the face of the gaunt man, the hand in her hair leaving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her further into him, pressing and feeling.

Andromeda screwed her eyes shut as nausea threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Geralt twisted his head, his heart roaring at the scent of fear that rolled off her in crashing waves, at her quiet whimpers and horrified glances.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a hefty bag he had been rewarded for a recent job he had been successful in. He threw it at the man's feet, wary to give into violence so soon, afraid his need for vengeance would only cause Andromeda more hurt.

No, first she had to be safe. Then he would do what his mind was screaming for him to when he first came upon the scene.

The man looked towards the bag in amusement, eyes dragging their way back to Geralt - "no amount of silvers goin' t' gimme what I need."

"And what do you need?"

"Her. Or her bits at least."

Geralt's heart thudded at his lecherous smile and travelling hands, face grim as he tried to think of a way to help without risking Andromeda getting hurt.

Andromeda spoke then, "then you'll let me go?"

Her voice was quiet, tainted with despair and dread. Geralt screwed his face up in anger and cut off the man with conviction before he spoke, "you won't touch her."

The man laughed unashamedly, head thrown back in glee, "already am Witcher, see."

His hands roved over her, dragging harshly from her waist to her stomach, spanning up to the valley of her breasts and tracing her throat before winding itself in her hair once more. All the while, Andromeda screwed her eyes shut, her stomach roiling in protest at the feel of his touch.

"It's okay, Geralt," there was a whisper of defeat as she looked at him, her eyes glittered as they pooled with expectant tears. The situation was too precarious, too unpredictable. She knew Geralt couldn't help her without risking her life, and a part of her felt envious when she thought of how he had succeeded in helping those who had been in much more vile situations than her own. A traiterous voice told her that if Yennefer had been in her place, he would have fought endlessly for her safety without hesitation.

But Andromeda was not Yennefer, and she didn't hold the same place in Geralt's heart that Yennefer did.

"It's okay," she repeated, her voice stronger despite the fact she felt herself breaking as the seconds passed. She would accept the fate ahead of her. She would pray for her survival and beg the Fates to allow her the strength to move past it and be better.

But if she were to succumb to death, she would walk into its welcoming arms with a relieved smile, "it's okay, Geralt," tears flowed down her face freely now, shoulders lowering as she forced her body to relax, "you'll be free." To love Yennefer, to be with her without guilt.

She had expected to find silent relief in his eyes or a sigh of understanding to escape past his lips. Instead, her words seemed to anger him. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to give her body and free will away simply because she thought he would be happy, ignited a blazing fire within him.

Geralt would fight endlessly for Yennefer. But he would wage wars for Andromeda. He would level cities and burn worlds in her name.

It was Andromeda who he pined for all these years, Andromeda whom he wished to pick but felt undeserving of, Andromeda who he was tied to so intricately that he revered the bonds which attached them with unadulterated adoration.

It was Andromeda. It has always been Andromeda.

Geralt nodded, his face expressionless as he lowered the arm holding his sword. The assailant fould himself straightening in surprise, baffled at how the Witcher had given up so easily.

Andromeda's face crumpled in a mixture of understanding and disbelief. It was what she had expected. She wasn't Yennefer.

Geralt lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees as he placatingly spoke, "I'm going to put the sword down, then I will leave."

The man didn't understand why Geralt would discard his sword before leaving. If Geralt accepted the assailant's terms, then he could leave freely with his weapon if he so wished.

He opened his mouth to speak as such, but a vicious roar escaped Geralt, one filled with grief and guilt and anger as his left hand was thrown forward from behind his back and a knife lodged into the dark-haired man's kneecap.

The assailant let out a wail of agony, falling to the ground harshly. He hadn't expected the pain, hadn't expected Geralt's harsh attack, so the knife fell freely from his hands without causing Andromeda much hurt.

She fell to the floor with the injured man, but before he could reach for her once more she leapt away from him, eyes wide in fear as she saw how he frothed at the mouth and spewed off slurs at both herself and Geralt.

Geralt didn't wait a moment longer, leaving his sword behind he lauched himself at the man. Geralt burned with rage, every scent and every sound a reminder of how close he was to losing Andromeda all over again.

He continued wailing on the man, every hit harder than the last, and his anger did not wane until the man took a rattled last breath. It was then he looked up to find Andromeda staring at him in stunned silence.

Andromeda should have been wary and fearful of Geralt. Her heart should have trembled as he stood to step over the crumpled corpse to stalk his way to her. She should have trembled and cried at the sight of him inhaling deeply, refamiliarising himself with her scent and the overwhelming bounds of emotions that spurted from her uncontrollably.

But as she reached towards his hand that was stretched towards her, palm up - staring at his raw and bleeding knuckles, at the spurts of blood which speckled across his face and the greasy strands of hair that fell across his face - she found herself bubbling in desire.

He had done this for her. To protect her.

She glanced towards the motionless body behind Geralt, hand finally enclosed in his own as he tugged her up to stand - he had killed for her.

He had killed for her.

Andromeda didn't have a chance to look into his eyes, to see the passion and fear and love that drowned his amber eyes. Instead, Geralt drew her into a shaky embrace, as though he couldn't believe she was standing in front of him, as though he couldn't believe he had found her.

When Andromeda didn't rear back from his gentle touches, he tightened his arms around her as a shuddered breath escaped him. He buried his head in the tresses of her hair, finding solace in the familiar scent of orange blossoms and jasmine as he i haled deeply. He tried commiting her form to memory, tried to memorise how her body melded into his own, how it fit against him.

But Geralt could spend an eternity with her in his embrace, and he would still yearn to hold her for longer.

Geralt stiffened at the feeling of a light caress against his back, it was a hesitant touch he soon recognised as Andromeda returning his embrace.

He could no longer help it.

Geralt of Rivia. Butcher of Blaviken. The White Wolf. The Witcher.

All of these twisted parts of his were warriors, stripped of emotions and imbued with skills and tactics.

Yet, in her warm embrace, his eyes began to burn as traiterous tears escaped.

Andromeda closed her eyes in quiet relief at the feeling of his tears against her head, hoping to cherish the moment before Geralt of Rivia replaced her Geralt.

Before Yennefer's Geralt took the place of her own.

"Come back."

Yennefer's Geralt never did come back, and Andromeda found herself wondering if he had even existed in the first play or if he had simply been a mask to hide Geralt's deeper feelings.

His voice was raw, it was quiet. Almost child-like, tinged with desperation as he held onto her tighter, fearful she would slip between his fingers once more.

"Come back, Rory," he pleaded, "come back to me. Come back with me."

She shut her eyes in agony, knowing every inch of her being begged her to say yes. But she knew better, after all this time, she knew better than to blindly say yes.

The truth was, over the last few months that she had been gone, there were no burning sensations that plagued her. There was no sign through her bond to Geralt displaying that he was laying with another.

Not even a burn of the lips like the one she had felt so many moons ago.

But she knew better.

"Do you love her?"

She had to know. She couldn't leave him without knowing, and she couldn't stay when she thought he did.

Geralt pulled back, hands reaching to cup her face as he pulled her face up to look at him, his eyes earnest as he spoke, "I did. Perhaps a part of me still does."

He saw the way her face crumpled at that, but he forced himself to continue, "but it's a thing of the past. I picked you. I pick you. I have every day since that night by the fire"

A harsh laugh escaped her as she tried to pull away unsuccessfully, "then why did you kiss her that night?"

He closed his eyes as he was overcome with guilt, "I didn't do it because I love her. I told her I wanted you, I needed you. She wanted to say goodbye. And it was wrong of me, I know, and I am so sorry, little one. But it is over, never to happen again."

"How can I believe you? You lied to me once already."

Her words were spoken defeatedly, but it caused determination to rise in Geralt. He brought a hand to reach for her own, placing her palm against his chest, against his heart - "ask me."

She looked at him in confusion, a small frown tugging at her lips, "what?"

"Ask me."

She knew what he meant, of course she did and she found herself breaking into a sweat as she tried to string her words together.

"Do- do you love me, Geralt?"

"Only you, only ever you." Andromeda could feel his thudding heart, the way it beat against its cage as he confessed the truth after so long, begging to bare himself to the girl. To show all his scars and faults, and plead with her to accept him and love him as he is.

She found her own heart began to beat in sync.

"It's only ever been you, Rory. You're all I ever want," he leaned closer to her, nose brushing against her own as his breath fanned over her mouth, the sensation causing blood to rush and tint her face a darkened pink. "I love you," the whispered confession came out at a rushing pace. He began echoing his words as he teetered between kissing her or letting her go.

Thankfully, heart satiated by the confession, spirits reignited, and doubts diminished, she looked at Geralt with eyes full of adoration. Her hands skimmed up the leathers of his arm, carressing over his broad shoulders before tickling up his neck as they took their place at the edge of his jaw, close enough to tug a few strands of hair as she dragged him closer.

Her tongue flicked out her mouth, lightly tracing the shape of his lips only a breath away, every accidental brush against his lips caused Geralt to flush red until his impatience got the better of him, "kiss me."

The demand was fulfilled with vigour as Andromeda soared up on her toes as Geralt leaned down. They met with a soft kiss, their lips gliding against each other as hesitance melted into passion, and they began to pour eons' worth of unreminisced desires into a single kiss.

The kiss caused their souls to brighten, a pleasurable burn racing through their body as the claim Geralt had made all those years ago sang harmoniously at their union.

Andromeda wasn't sure how long they had been kissing, but when she pulled back to gasp for air she found herself tucking back some loose strands of hair behind his ear, a shy smile bracing her face as she confessed, "I love you too."

"Come home, little love."

Home was where her heart lived, with her family. With a grumpy Witcher, a runaway princess, and a boisterous bard.

"Take me home, Geralt. Take me whever you go."

They stood there for some time, their heads leaning against one another, eyes closed as they basked in each other's presence.

Andromeda's hand found its way back to Geralt's chest, finding solace in the racing beats of his heart.

Geralt's hands had never left Andromeda's face, absentmindedly tracing the contours of her face, following every blemish and scar that graced her skin.

Soon night turned into dawn, and they looked at each other with renewed vigour in the golden light, drinking in the site of each other hungrily.

Geralt had found Andromeda.

Andromeda had found Geralt.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

#geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #cirilla of cintra #princess cirilla #cirilla of vengerberg #witcher cirilla #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier

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shutuplilith · 1 year

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the witch and her cottage, part 2 - geralt of rivia x reader

the witch and her cottage, part 2

ciri's pov. (takes place after the ending of season 1, episode 8. yennifer exists in this, but not as geralts love interest but as his best friend)

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As she walks toward us, out of the corner of my eye, my gaze falls sideways to Geralt, who also wears a grin on his lips. "Gera... oh, hello, Roach, what a pleasure to catch sight of you again," she says as her hand gently strokes the nose of Geralt's faithful mare. At that moment, Roach seems to enjoy the tender touch, and I feel an invisible bond forming between the two. After a few precious moments, she gently disengages from Roach and takes a few steps back. She looks to Geralt, "Oh Geralt," she grins, "it's good to see you again as well." A smile plays around his lips as she pulls him into a warm embrace, which he returns without hesitation. As they break free from the embrace, hergaze shifts towards me, her luminous (y/e/c) eyes studying me intently. "Oh, and you must be Ciri; I've heard so much about you," she whisper, her words hitting me like the sound of an ancient spell. I furrow my brow, and inside my head, my thoughts start to dance wildly. My gaze returns to Geralt once more, who meets my look with a faint grin. "I am, by the way, (y/n)," her voice once again captures my attention, pulling me back from the dizzying expanse of thoughts into the here and now. "I am filled with joy to finally meet you."Curiosity overtakes me, and I inquire, "How do you know Geralt?"A mysterious smile graces her lips as she replies, "I’ll tell you this story later. For now, let's make our way inside; it's about to get uncomfortable out here."As if in response to an invisible signal, Geralt and I both turn our gazes sky, which has once again been swallowed by dark clouds. The howling of the wind, previously just a faint whisper, now pierces our ears louder and more menacingly.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x f!reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia x you #roach #the witcher roach #ciri #cirilla of cintra #princess cirilla

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thesleepy1 · 2 years

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It's Raining Witchers

A/N: I currently have eight requests on my list. I am slowly making my way through them. I’m not sure if I will do them in order or if I will write them depending on my mood. A couple of them are smut requests so I’m not sure when I’ll get those out either. This fic was anon requested.

Pairings: Geralt x Reader

Summary: You weren’t showing off when you scaled up on top of buildings through your own wit and muscles. It was a necessity you had learned early on in life. Most people just found it unusual. Geralt and Ciri were not most people.

Or, “Geralt and Ciri's reaction to reader who knows how to parkour.”

Word count: 339

Warnings: none

Geralt

“Where did you learn how to climb walls?” Geralt teased from the ground as he watched you scale up the castle walls with nothing but your own limbs. “Is it magic?” It was dark out and neither of you wanted to be seen. Your voices were hushed despite the distance between you.

You scoffed down at him from a gargoyle’s ledge. “It’s no magic, Geralt. It just takes practice.”

Geralt gave you an unconvinced look and a smile that would have most running for the hills. You personally found the expression endearing. “I’ve lived quite a few decades longer than you and I haven’t been able to manage anything like that.”

You sat on the ledge and smiled down at him. “You had me fooled. What with the twirls and swift skips you do while fighting.”

“There’s no magic there,” Geralt began. “Only Vesemir’s constant lectures on proper form.”

Ciri

“Could you teach me how to do that?”

You had leapt from the balcony onto the slanted rooftops in less than three jumps. The wind was brisk and cold this high up on the castle. The sky was endless and not a cloud was in sight. “Geralt would kill me if he found you up here.” The shingles were loose and you almost lost your footing more times than you would like to admit.

Ciri rolled her eyes at your concern and crossed her arms. “That’s only if he finds out. You know you aren’t in trouble unless you get caught.”

“I think your father would have a few choice words about that.” You tried to scold her but your heart wasn’t in it.

“Would you teach me or would you rather I learn on my own?”

You gave her an unamused look. “Would you promise not to tell Geralt?”

Ciri lit up in a smile. “Cross my heart.” She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. “What do I have to do first?”

“Promise you won’t haunt me if you throw yourself off the balcony.”

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thewritersaddictions · 2 years

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Requests: The Witcher: Geralt of Rivia- Pained

Pairing: Parents Figures! Geralt and Yennefer, Sister!Ciri, Fem!Daughter!Reader

Pov: 3rd pov

Warnings: Dying, Readers' death, fighting, big sister ciri, motherly love, dying in someone's arms, sadness, losses loved one, PURE ANGST.

Summary: Geralt and Yennefer go to fight in the battle leaving their two daughters behind together, but even good endings have death in them.

WC- 1.9k

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers. This was so sad, and hard to write.

The Witcher Master List // Requests Master List

The war had began long ago but when Nilfgard invaded Cintra the whole world shifted. With Cintra only princess having run away, a Witcher having taking the law of surprise, a Sorceress having her powers completely ripped away from her, and finally a daughter who just wanted dearly to help her parents.

Y/n was adopted and regardless of that her family still loved her deeply. Geralt tried to be a great father to Y/n, it was harder then he thought it was going to be simply for the fact that he had been alone for so long before meeting before Ciri, and Yen. Yennefer was an amazing mother, she did everything she could for our sweet Y/n. To young age to older adulthood she helped her through everything.

Ciri was the same as Geralt. Having been alone for so long she adored having someone closer to her in age. Someone who understood more of what was going on with her. The battle caused mayhem for everyone involved. They tried desperately to keep the girls safe. Yennefer was hellbent on the girls not even being apart of the horror of a battle. She didn’t want them to see the horrofic things that happened. She didn’t want her daughter to have the scaring of heart and mind like the two of them did.

The only compromise was that Y/n and Ciri would stay together. They would help each other with the wounded and help those who couldn’t help themselves. A great plan but every plan can fail in some sort of way. Had it been the worse idea for Yen and Geralt to have come with? No, it was a great idea it kept the girls away from the immediate horro show of war. It was the safest for Y/n and Ciri to be together and away from the merciless killings that happned on the battleground.

Ciri helped along with Y/n with the wounded and helpless. Wounded were moved quickly and off the field if it was safe enough, and all while they did that Geralt and Yennefer fought side by side. Moving with each other through the field. Geralt sword flying and slicing through the air, as yennefer moved and killed people with her powerful powers. Puffs of purple magic flew from her hands as she killed the oncoming attckers.

The two fought side by side, as Ciri and Y/n tried desper5atl to keep up with the incoming wounded. People walking astray as they made it to the safety of the medical nook. There were to many enimies coming out from behind the woodland. Too many things were going on, so she isn’t sure how she managed to get hurt. Y/n doesn’t feel the injury at first it isn’t until she feel the wetness of blood and sweat agasint her hand. Her eyes widden as the pain hit her mind. How had she gotten hurt? She needed to keep it under wraps. The wars wasn’t over just yet, but they weren’t that far either.

Y/n just needed enough time to see Geralt and Yennefer, so she pushes through the pain. She needs to help Ciri, and she needs to get through this. The pain can be felt like a thousand brick laying down on her shoulders. It’s a searing feeling in the pit of her stomach, she worries that she won’t make it to the end of this to see her family. She worries about everyone else as they continue to rush in with wounds worse then hers.

What nobody sees is how a stray bolts of strong and dark magic flies over the fight past hundreds if not thousands of warriors and strong magicals beings. It just sears through Y/n and out to wherever it lands. The wound is gushing and running thick with a red stain. It stains Y/n’s clothes but she’s so wrapped up in everyone else and helping someelse that she doesn’t even feel it until it way to late for anything to be done.

She pushes throug the pain. She pushes so hard that the color is slowly draining from her face, and as much as Y/n wants to continue working she just can’t. The world around her is becoming dizzier and it’s harder for her to ground herself. Harder for her to make clear of what’s happening around her. It’s not until Ciri comes over, gently almost has if she doens’t want to hurt Y/n and taps her on her shoulder.

“Y/n are you alright?” She questions her. It’s not like the color leaving Y/n’s face is not a clear indicator Ciri is just being thorough. Right? Y/n shallows hard and blinks her eyes a few times to find herself again in the world of mixed pain. Ciri thinks that it might be from the prolonged sight of blood all around Y/n, or the dead bodies. From that ones that they couldn’t save, it’s a rancid smell that the bodies are already emitting. Ciri question goes unanswered for to long, the comfortable air is quickly draining, terror is psuhing, almost forcing it’s way into the back of Ciri mind.

Then like they’re in a good playwright or fairytale story that Yennefer used to tell them when they were much younger. The clouds disappear sunrays shining through onto the blooded but green ground. It’s almost a fucking miracle how everything just becomes peaceful all at the same time. Ciri looks back down at her sister, she asks her again. “Are you okay?” Y/n breathes for what seems like the first time. Shaking her head before deciding that it would be best if she spoke.

“Yeah just got a little lightheaded there was all. The smell and blood.” She lies to her sister, boldface lies to her sister and she knows it will be horrible the ending is coming soon she can feel it in her bones. She can feel how fast her heart was beating compared to know. Her heart not drumming along anymore, she worries still about her family. So, she lies.

“IT’S OVER! THE WAR IS OVER!!” The two hear men and women screaming from outside the medical tent. Ciri walks outside of the doomed tent the sun shines on her pale face, and she breathes in fresh air. Turning she turns and looks over at Y/n, “How about we get some air that’s not rotten or just about to die.” Ciri suggest, Y/n musters up a short smile before using the most of her strength to push herself off the small and worn cot.

The sun the bright and almost make the sky look white as Y/n steps out from behind the medical tent. “Is it really over?” She questions Ciri. The two stand together and look out at the destruction, blood and gore litters the ground below. Grass that used to be green is now laced with thick red blood, and it reminds Y/n of her own wound. Her hand is still pressed into it, but it doesn’t matter not anymore at least. She had grabbed her cloak to just protect herself from her mother and father worries. There would be no need to worry the two of them with anymore.

Ciri is the first one to see their parents. Dripping blood that isn’t there, Yennefers hair that was put into place is out in fringes here and there. Sticking to her face with clumps of dirt, and blood attached to her beautiful face as well. Their father isn’t worse for wear, but his grey hair is laced thickly with a red tinge as if he tired to wash it out, but it was probably the sweat that doing it instead. “YENNEFER, GERALT!” Ciri can’t help but scream, she without meaning to grabs Y/n’s hand and drags her behind her down the shapr curves ofthe grassy mountain. Y/n was always able to catch up, or at least keep up but now it seems as if her legs can’t manage to work.

Theres that feeling again, like her world is really spinning. Spinning away from her. Ciri just runs with joy. Her whole family, her protectors are all right there with her. None of them are hurt, still breathing and standing in front of her. Geralt looks rougher upclose Y/n thinks as she tries desperately to push away the stricking pain in her stomach. “Oh, girl that the gods you are okay.” Yennefer can’t help but sob. As she walks towards her adoptive daughters.

Y/n starts to feel herself sway like the breeze is pushing her back and forth. Her eys are shuttering closed, but Yeenfer is to happy that her kids are right in front of her face to realize that Y/n is falling to the ground. Y/n falls to the ground and it’s in slowmotion, her heart is slowling even slower then before. She watches as Geralts face changes ever so quickly. Worn out, tired, and in a flash theres concern writing itself over his expressions. Fear and heartbreak is pushing through his yellow eyes.

Her cloak opens up ralveaing a growing bloody spot on her white tunic. “Yen?” Y/n hears Geralt yell out, shaking his own daze. Y/n’s body doesn’t hit the ground rather a soft and plush body. “Yen we can fix this?” It comes out like a question, not like Geralt knows it. What he does know is that he’s watched enough people die to know the look on Y/n’s face. She’s white as a ghost, and she’s slipping as the three of them stand over her. “Oh sweet baby girl,” Yennefer hushes Y/n, her hand dirty combing through a sweaty mob of hair on Y/n’s head.

“What happened?” Geralt asks Ciri, but she unresponsive. She’s like a blanket canvas, she staring her Yennefer and Y/n. Unwilling to move ot say a damn word. So, Geralt get’s down on his knees sitting down next to Y/n. Pressing a large and firm hand into her gushing wound. “Oh, sweet Y/n. What happened?” She manages a shake of her head, looks back between the two people she calls her parents. Geralt sighs, and looks over at Yennefer for the first time.

Yennefer isn’t holding back, but her magic can’t fix the wound on Y/n’s frame. It’s impossible since they she doens’t know what happened to Y/n. The tears that Yennefer thought had disappeared long ago show up again. They roll down her face with such sorrow. Nobody speaks. Ciri comes alive, moving quickly she braces herself at Y/n’s feet. Y/n feels whole, her family is all around her, holding her in their hands. Her life in their hands and they all share a look of knowing it.

She takes her last strong full breath. Looks out at her people. Tears brim all of their eyes, but she smiles at them. “Mom, Dad, Ciri. I love you.” Just like that a sweet and pure life is taken from the world, nothing rips through the world like that. A spark as just died, and Geralt doesn’t know what to do now. Ciri is melting into the ground, her body is shaking as she tries to figureit all out. How it all could have happened. Yennefer is quite for to long, like her mind hadn’t processed that those were Y/n’s last words.

The screams that leave Yennefer’s mouth is world ripping. ITslices through the air and everyone from Nilfgard to Temeria hears the sounds of the truest heartbreak. The loss of a child, the loss of a forever love. Nothing would ever be as painful as the sight of a heartbroken mother, and a dead child.

Completed on: 03/13/23

Posted on: 03/20/23

The Hero's-

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hidden-misthios · 1 year

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Something in the Orange (part 3)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 427

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for the long wait AGAIN but the last two months were wild. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

After a couple of failed attempts, impatient mumbles from Ciri and words of encouragement from Jaskier, Y/N did it. The portal was right there in front of them. She felt dizzy and could feel her energy draining incredibly fast but she was awfully proud of herself. Making portals was always risky but this one seemed completely stable. The only problem is going to be keeping it open until everyone crosses.

“Go!” Y/N yells but no one looks like they are ready to go first.

Lambert, who was standing closest to the portal, moves a step back.

“I’m not going to be able to do this whole day. Go.” Y/N looks at him, keeping her arms steady in front of her.

“Why me? So you can close it as soon as I cross over?” he crosses arms. Y/N rolls her eyes and turns around to her best friend.

“Jaskier. Please.” she looks at him with hope in her eyes. Jaskier hesitates for a bit, but slowly nods.

As soon as he moves a step forward, Lambert scoffs and slightly shakes his head.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything but steps forward again.

“Fine, I’ll go first. Save your precious troubadour ass from potential downfall.” he says and steps forward, standing in Jaskier’s way. Jaskier slightly frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything, as if he’s trying to read his mind.

“Go!” Y/N repeats before both men could say anything else.

Lambert glances at her then steps in front of the portal. The portal makes a loud sound but nothing happens as Lambert’s hand slowly touches the dimmed veil. He hesitates for a second before finally stepping inside.

Y/N is holding her breath.

There’s no response from the portal when Lambert fully disappears. Portal is still stable. Y/N feels her heart beating like she just ran a marathon.

He crossed safely. He’s fine.

“Next!” she says, her voice shaky.

Jaskier, who was already on his way when Lambert stopped him, moves forward again.

His fits are nervously clenched but he looks determined.

Once he’s gone, the rest of the group looks a bit more certain now. Portal is still stable, but Y/N feels the energy shifting slightly. Ciri moves closer as soon as Jaskier is through.

“We will have to speed things up a bit.” Y/N tells Vesemir when Ciri crosses over without a word.

She could feel the portal taking more and more energy from her. Y/N wasn’t sure was Ciri’s magic somehow to be blamed for that but she didn’t want to question it any longer.

Vesemir nods and moves forwards immediately. He knew what this meant. Portal was going to be unstable soon.

As Vesemir passes through, Y/N feels something warm on her lips. Her nose was already bleeding.

Shit.

She still had Coen and herself to go through. Portal could go unstable any minute now.

“Coen, wait!” she calls for him. The witcher halts and turns to her. “We need to go together!” she tells him, with hint of panic in her voice.

Coen is visibly confused but nods in silence. He joins her and slowly they start to approach the portal. Y/N’s arms are slightly shaking at this point and her vision is getting blurry.

Come on, you can do this.

As they are about to enter, portal suddenly shatters.

“Jump!” Y/N screams, flinging herself towards. The white light surrounds her and forces her to close her eyes.

The pressure inside her own mind is insane. It lasts only for couple of seconds and then suddenly Y/N feels the ground beneath her and the heaviness is gone. She dares to open her eyes, fully prepared for the worst.

But there she is, standing in front of small rescue group.

Relief hits her and she falls down on her knees. All of her energy was gone. It’s going to take days before she’s fully healed. The energy drained from her by the portal was equivalent to an entire month's worth of effort for an oneiromancer’s work.

Jaskier runs towards her, grabbing her around the shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” brushing the blood off her lips. Jaskier immediately offers her a handkerchief and Y/N takes it.

“Where is Coen?” Lambert asks. Y/N looks at him and then around herself. He wasn’t there. Her heart sinks.

“Where is he?!” Lambert asks, this time, much louder. Y/N manages to stand up with Jaskier’s help.

“He didn’t-”

Lambert is standing in front of her, lifting his arms and aiming for Y/N’s shoulders. Or neck. Y/N couldn’t be too sure.

Whatever his goal was, Lambert was stopped by Vesemir, who suddenly appeared by his right side.

“That’s enough, let her explain.” Vesemir gives him a warning look. “Y/N.” he looks at her now.

“Coen should be just fine. He didn’t jump on time so the portal closed in front of him.” Y/N says, finally leaning on her own feet without Jaskier’s help. Her friend still stood near, monitoring her every movement. “He is unharmed. Probably just upset he didn’t cross over.” she adds.

“If he’s not-”

“Oh, won’t you give me a break! I just held the portal open for 5 people. He is alive and well!” Y/N snaps at redheaded witcher. Lambert’s brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything this time. He turns his back on her in utter silence.

“Now…where are we?” Jaskier quietly asks, looking around. Everyone else does the same. Unfortunately, there isn't much to go on. The eerie woodland lay shrouded in an ethereal mist, its gnarled trees stretching their skeletal branches toward an ominous sky. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and moss. Jaskier, who was still standing next to Y/N, slightly trembles when a distant howl fills their ears.

“Maybe it’s just me, but this doesn’t look like Hengfors.” Ciri mumbles. Y/N feels the wave of shame overwhelm her. She really believed she was powerful enough to do this right.

It was still an early morning but the dense, dark clouds hindered the sunlight from piercing through. With each passing moment, the mist enveloping them grew denser and heavier.

“No, but we have to find our way there.” Vesemir adds calmly. Y/N slowly makes a step forward and approaches him.

“I’m sorry-” Y/N says. Vesemir’s yellow eyes stared at her with a piercing gaze. “Do not apologize, Y/N. You helped us.”

“We don’t even know where we are.” Y/N says feeling the slight dizziness overcome her again.

“We will get to the closest town. We should head west.” he says, this time to the whole group, which meant their discussion was over.

Vesemir took the lead and Ciri followed, tightly gripping the hilt of her silver sword.

Y/N nervously swallowed. Despite taking a deep breath, the dizziness persisted. She wouldn’t dare to stop the group for her own troubles. She had to walk.

Jaskier, who remained by her side, regarded her with a gaze filled with concern. Y/N felt even worse. She didn’t want anyone’s pity for her own failure.

“I’m fine. We should go.” she tells him.

“Can you walk?” he asks, obviously not convinced. Y/N nods and takes a few steps forward. The bard lets out a sigh, refraining from uttering a word, and began trailing behind Ciri.

Y/N's attention was drawn to Lambert's figure, catching a glimpse of him behind her with the corner of her eye. She didn’t like him walking behind her but had no energy or desire to fight him again.

The group walked in a tranquil silence, enveloped by the ambient sounds of nature that surrounded them. Even Jaskier remained quiet, occupied with his own thoughts and worries about their current location.

But no one blamed Y/N. Not even the red headed witcher at the end of the line.

Y/N fixated on her own steps, each one proving more difficult than the last. All she wanted now was to lay down and sleep for days.

***

After a few hours of (mostly) silent walking, the landscape around them began to change - woodland was replaced by eerie swamp. Y/N took a deep breath. The air became infused with a pungent aroma, carrying the unmistakable scent of decaying vegetation and stagnant water that defined the wetland.

Muscles in Y/N’s legs were screaming. Her whole body did. She had reached the point where she truly didn't know how much longer she could continue walking. When she finally raised her gaze from the ground, which had captivated her attention for the past half hour, she came to the realization that she had fallen behind. Jaskier now walked at least 10 meters ahead of her, leaving her with the undeniable awareness that her pace had slowed down.

“We have to pick up the pace. We don't want to be trapped in a swamp when it gets dark.” Vesemir shouted from upfront. Lambert, who was still walking behind Y/N quietly, didn’t say anything, but Y/N heard his steps getting closer to her now. When he finally bypassed her, Y/N felt helpless. Her own feet were betraying her. She struggled to focus on each step, but her vision was blurring with every moment.

She abruptly stopped. At last, her body yielded to the unforgiving grasp of exhaustion, and her knees crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud. Y/N’s eyes already closed when she felt someone’s hands catch her around her waist.

As her consciousness slipped away, she was embraced by the sudden darkness.

***

She slowly regained consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal the unfamiliar surroundings. Groggy and disoriented, Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her body gradually come back to life.

“Y/N!” she heard a familiar voice next to her. She moves her head to the side. Jaskier lowered himself into a crouch beside her, immediately helping her to sit up. Y/N looks around.

By the sound surrounding them, she was sure they were still in the wetlands. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jaskier asks her, monitoring her face as if she was about to faint again.

“I didn’t want us to stop walking.” she mutters, trying to get up on her unsteady feet. It was pitch darkness around them, the only light sources were small lanterns placed around their improvised campsite.

“Sit down! We won't be going anywhere until morning.” he scolds her.

“Jaskier, I’m fine. We can go.”

“That’s what you said the last time and then fainted into that revolting mud.” he retorted with a tinge of frustration in his voice.

Suddenly Y/N remembers the last moment before the world blackened in front of her eyes. She instinctively touches her waist, as if expecting to still feel the lingering touch of hands upon it.

“But you got me. I didn’t fell.” she says, unsure in her own words. Was it Jaskier? Or was she imagining the whole thing?

“I-I didn’t.” Jaskier says reluctantly, his eyes suddenly looking away from her. Y/N frowns.

“Jaskier…”

“Fine! It was him!” he finally confessed, lowering his voice. Then his gaze shifted to Y/N’s left side. She slowly turns her head.

Lambert.

He rested against a fallen ash tree; arms crossed over his chest with his head slightly bowed down. He was asleep. Or at least looked like he was. Y/N wasn’t even sure if witchers ever properly slept.

“Him?” Y/N whispers but there was panic in her voice.

“Yes, him.” Jaskier says impatiently, still looking at the redheaded witcher. “He carried you for an hour without a word. When I insisted that I should be the one to carry you, he told me to get lost. Can you imagine!” he says, not even bothering to hide his reluctance.

Just as Y/N was about to voice her complaint, the witcher's sudden movement startle them both, causing them to jerk back in surprise.

“In fact, I believe my exact words were ‘sod off’.” Lambert mutters to Jaskier, but his gaze is pierced on Y/N. Y/N’s mouth open but she’s speechless.

Why on earth would he carry me?

Jaskier stood up. With an indignant huff, he straightened his posture. "Well then, aren't you a delightful specimen of manners." he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lambert glances at him with a sardonic smirk, clearly amused. “Happy to be of service.”

“Alright, now that’s settled...” Y/N interveners, still feeling uncomfortable. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere near Creyden or Luton. Braa river is this way.” Lambert turns the point of his dagger to the north.” We won’t be sure until the morning.”

Y/N took a moment to realize where they are. “So…I didn’t mess up.”

“What do you mean ‘mess up?” Jaskier asks with confusion. Y/N finally manages to get up on her own feet. She located her leather bag just a few steps away from her. Thankfully, she carried a map with her!

“Hengfors,” she exclaims optimistically as she crouched down, “is just right behind us.” Y/N lowers the map on the somewhat of a flat stone. With a quick motion, she straightens the crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier and Lambert appear beside her, each holding a lantern to illuminate the map.

“If your assumptions are right, we should be right here.” she points to a blank part of the paper, surrounded by four cities – Blaviken, Luton, Jamurlak and Hengfors.

“Fuck.” Lambert quietly says, turning around. Y/N’s optimism suddenly vanishes.

“Isn’t that good? We know where we are.” she asks, standing up again. Lambert doesn’t look at her, but somewhere in the black void that was surrounding them.

“These roads are feeding grounds for kikimoras.” he mutters, as the flickering glow of the lantern bounced off the contours of his stern face.

“Of course they are.” Jaskier anxiously uttered his words, his throat tight with tension.

Y/N felt the chills down her spine. She never encountered any monsters. She had no idea how to fight. She didn’t need to do that in Novigrad anyway.

“I’m sure you have plenty of experience in fighting monsters with Geralt, bard.” Lambert mocks him, lowering the lantern on the ground.

“Actually I’m- “

“Don’t answer that.” Y/N interrupts him. “Where are Ciri and Vesemir?” she decides to change the subject.

“They are taking turns guarding the camp.” Lambert answers and settles down on the very same tree where Y/N first spotted him when she woke up. “My shift just ended so excuse me for a next hour or two.”

Y/N and Jaskier return to the spot where Y/N woke up and they sit down on her bedroll.

“You should sleep too, you know.” Y/N tells her friend. Jaskier shakes his head immediately.

“Not a chance. I’ll watch over you.”

“I just woke up. You should be the one sleeping.” she insists.

“I’m not-”

“You don’t own me anything, Jaskier.” she gently nudges his arm, smiling at her friend.

“I do. And least I can do is let you sleep.”

“You won’t be of any use to me tomorrow if you’re going to be tired.” Y/N continues. Jaskier lets out a sigh. Heavy-lidded and burdened with the weight of exhaustion, his eyes were veiled by a haze of fatigue.

“Fine. But only for a few minutes.” he says, leaning against the log behind him. “Promise you’ll wake me up.”

***

Y/N, of course, did not wake up the bard. She sat there, surrounded by the darkness of the eerie swamp and just watched. Her surroundings were mostly quiet – occasional hoots or croaking from shallow waters. The night seemed peaceful which calmed her nerves.

As the early light of dawn emerged on the horizon, Vesemir and Ciri made their way back to their camp. Despite their appearance of alertness, Y/N knew that the lack of rest was taking its toll on them.

“Someone’s finally awake.” Ciri says with a mocking tone, but the smile on her face was friendly.

“I’m sorry-”

"Pay no attention to her, Y/N," Vesemir softly adds, tossing a flask full of water towards the girl. Ciri catches it swiftly, gulping down half of it in an instant. Older witcher walks over to Y/N and gazes at the slumbering bard. Jaskier's mouth is slightly ajar, emitting gentle snores as he rests peacefully.

“Not quite a guardian, that one.”

“I told him to sleep.” Y/N explains and finally gets up on her feet. She felt safer now when they were all together again. Ciri joined Lambert, gently tapping him on the shoulders. Witcher instantly opened his eyes and looked at the group surrounding him.

It was time to move.

Few hours and lots of kilometres later, they finally saw signs of civilization. The sun had risen high in the sky, yet it offered little warmth. Vesemir and Ciri were leading the group, but even their firm steps started to slow down after a while. Jaskier was awfully quiet again, but Y/N knew better than to ask questions.

And behind her, there was Lambert again.

From time to time, Y/N swore she could feel his gaze but when she subtly turned around to check, he wasn’t looking. It was annoying and distracting, she realized, but there was nothing to say or do without starting another fight with stubborn man.

It was late afternoon when they finally reached the city of Luton. If such a place could even be called city, Y/N thought. At the core of the city lay a bustling and malodorous port, where the constant cries of seagulls filled the air, circling overhead as they mingled with the scent of the sea.

Vesemir suddenly stops and turns around to face the group.

“Alright. This is where we split up. Ciri-” he turns to the girl “Find us a supply shop. Herbs, oils, whatever you can think of.”

Ciri nods and leaves, not waiting for other instructions. Y/N is nervously looking around, not really sure if splitting up is good idea.

“Jaskier.” Vesemir turns to face the bard. Jaskier clears his throat and steps forward as he was waiting for his instructions. “Find us a quiet inn for tonight. Not too crowded nor too empty. Somewhere we won’t draw attention. Find me here in an hour.”

“Got it.” Jaskier nods quickly, looks around a few times and then leaves in the same direction where Ciri left just few seconds ago. Y/N knew it was her turn now.

Vesemir turns to her, with a soft look in his eyes. “Y/N. You’re going to snoop around. Look for the notice boards. Eavesdrop for the stories about our whereabouts. If someone is looking for us, we have less time than we thought.” he says, occasionally glancing around. Y/N suddenly straightens her back, as she feels chills going down her spine.

“Where should I meet you?” she asks quietly.

“We will find you after everything is prepared.” Vesemir says. Y/N quietly nods and decides to follow Ciri’s and Jaskier’s direction.

“Oh, and Y/N.” Vesemir adds before she has the chance to make another step forward. “Take Lambert with you.”

Both Y/N and Lambert groan.

“I can do this on my own, Vesemir.” Y/N says. Vesemir’s eyes suddenly darken.

“Can you? Could you defeat a drunkard who wants to fight you? Would you find a thief who steals your bag or money? “He asks her, his voice suddenly colder. Y/N suddenly feels ashamed and doesn’t know what to answer. She was a sorceress. If things got out of hand she could always rely on her magic. But she knew that would be the end of her. This wasn’t Novigrad – and magic wasn’t welcomed here.

“And you” suddenly he turns to Lambert. “Stay out of trouble. Keep an eye on Y/N. And don’t draw attention to yourselves.”

Lambert looks at Y/N and then back to Vesemir. “Got it.” he mutters and joins Y/N.

“What about-” Lambert was about to ask, but when he turned around again to face Vesemir, he was already out of sight. “Fast for an old man.” he mutters and faces Y/N. He looks at her for couple of seconds and sighs.

“What?” she asks, even more nervous now when he was completely focused on her.

“You’re not good at this, you know.” Lambert says and approaches her. Y/N freezes when his hands move towards her shoulders. He grabs the edges of her coat and pulls the hood over her head. Y/N frowns a little.

“Of course I’m not! I generally don’t waste my days hiding around foul-smelling cities or looking for kidnapped witchers.” she finally says, crossing arms on her chests.

“Well today is your lucky day, your highness.” he grins and pulls hood over his own head as well.

“Let’s go.”

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