#i tried using crache too

[lanibijou]

Easiest way of beating 8-9

Love Hamel! Borrowed from a friend <3

[ptn-imagines]

Can I get headcanons of Raven,Zoya and Hella(platonic) reacting to fem cheif acting nochalant to Hella calling her mom

(coughs) I'm alive! Here's your request and thank you for your patience.

Raven, Zoya and Hella reacting to f!Chief reacting nonchalantly to being called “mom” by Hella

Raven

Honestly? Raven’s first reaction is to laugh. Really, really hard. It’s funny to her.

When her giggles fade away, though, she’s all smiles and sparkles, as Raven tends to be.

“Aw, isn’t that adorable, Chief? Looks like you’ve got a chick all of your own, now!” She will keep making comments like this, and god knows that neither Chief nor Hella will be able to stop her.

As something of a mom herself, not to mention a teacher, Raven likes to give Chief “parenting tips” from then on out. Some of them are a little silly. Some are things that Chief already knew. And other things are complete godsends that Chief has no idea what she’d do without.

Also, if she wasn’t inspired to write parenting help books before, she is now. As with most of Raven’s self-published textbooks, they fall into the category of “surprisingly useful but lacking in professionalism.” Still, Raven’s advice certainly won’t hurt a child… but Chief nevertheless figures it’s best not to mention how helpful the book actually is.

Raven also definitely drags Chief into chats about their kids. She’s a proud mama bird and will brag about Crache and her achievements until the cows come home. Naturally, she’s also incredibly supportive and proud of Hella, too – she’s her teacher, after all!

She will also absolutely prod Chief into accepting the title of “mother” to other kids in the Bureau. Hecate, Oliver, Dolly, OwO, Yanyan, Lynn, you name it and she’s already assigned the role of “Chief’s kid” to them. Good thing Chief had pretty much already accepted that role!

She also makes jokes that Chief can be Crache’s stepmom from time to time. Crache hates it. Raven’s kids, when they find out, won’t shut up about it. It definitely fuels the Raven x Chief gossip train that’s going on in her class.

Zoya

After the shock fades, the first thing Zoya feels is… warmth. She feels warm and fuzzy inside.

At first she has absolutely no idea why she’s feeling like this, and it baffles her. Okay, Chief didn’t care that Hella called her mom, that’s cool, why is it making her feel all weird inside?

It takes a few days for it to click with Zoya that what she’s feeling is affection. Seeing the Chief be accepted into a maternal role, caring for a young Sinner, made Zoya feel affectionate towards her.

Okay, great, she figured out what the weird feeling was, but Zoya still doesn’t understand the why. She thinks to her own life as a point of reference. Sure, Horo looks up to her as a role model, but Zoya always saw herself as a big sister/mentor figure to her, not so much a mother.

The answer, when it finally comes to her after another few days of dwelling on it, hits her like a bolt of lightning. It completely freezes her in her tracks as she tries to process the realization she just had: she felt affection because the Chief behaving motherly towards Hella? She found it cute.

Frankly, this realization opens a whole can of worms that Zoya is not emotionally equipped to face right now, so she seals that can right back up. But some things can never be fully repaired to the way they once were, and well, Zoya tries to comfort herself by thinking that surely she isn’t the only person who thinks of the Chief in such a manner. Surely.

Hella

Hella is, in a word, mortified. It was embarrassing enough that she’d accidentally called Chief mom, and it was even more embarrassing that Chief had accepted it so easily!

She still tries to play it off as an accident or a joke, though. She would rather the ground open up and swallow her than be seen as Chief’s daughter for real! Besides, she’s a proud, independent Syndican who relies on herself. She doesn’t need a mother!

…And yet… there is that tiny part of her, that part of her that made the slip-up in the first place. The part that she hates. That part of her that is still a terrified little girl, who wants nothing more than the comfort of a maternal figure. No matter what Hella tries, she can’t fully deny that that part of her exists.

…but Ninety-Nine is the only family she needs, so the idea that Chief is a mother to her is ridiculous, and anyone who ever believed that crap is stupid!

But… the slip-ups happen more and more often, and each time, Chief takes it in stride. Every time, it makes Hella burn with embarrassment, but as time goes on, she begins to realize that… hey, this isn’t so bad.

Of course, she still has her pride. She’ll never openly admit to see the Chief as a mother in a public setting. But in private… Well, maybe then it’s okay to willingly call the Chief “mom,” and to cling to her for comfort after a nightmare and to otherwise be vulnerable around her.

Of course, she still makes sure that Chief knows that if she leaks a word of this to anyone, she’ll bash her stupid skull in! (The whole Bureau knows anyway, but not because of Chief, and they’ll feign innocent for the sake of keeping her skull whole and un-smashed.)

[veny-many]

Did I mention about Order66 AU that Plo is alive and wandering with Wolffe?

And I just can't take it anymore and what have I done

Where was I? Ah yes

Plo and Wolffe wandering around the space to find any survivors from Order 66 and still trying to save innocents that suffered under Empire. Because why not.

Somehow Plo survives the plane crach(it is will of the Force) and barely hides from troopers with broken mask and critical burns. But his Commander hunts down him, and points blaster to his General.

But for some mysterious reason(maybe because of his trauma that received from Ventress, or will of the Force again) Wolffe resist the chip for just a moment, and Plo managed to find out that Wolffe isn't doing this with his will, and approaches him and destroy the chip. But the blaster shot came and Wolffe gains his mind only with his General fallen from his blaster shot.

For some miracle, Plo survives. But because his mask was broken for long time, his vocal cord was burned down, and his half of the body has burn too, and his right arm is amputated for critical burn. And Wolffe is never happy about it. And blames himself for all of this.

Despite the injuries he received, Plo still can use his telepathic ability, and reaches for Wolffe, telling him it's all right, it was never his fault. And anyway Wolffe is broken to cry again.

After all, Plo receives new prosthetic arm, but with five fingers because is was hard to find and suspicious to find four fingered arm. And Plo is just interested and tries to adjust to his new arm.

Wolffe had to throw his beloved armor because anybody can recognize it was from Wolfpack.

Wolffe worries about his General's safety because first, he is Kel-Dor, and he lost his right arm, and he can't speak and he got burn all over his body, and most of all he is Jedi. And he tries to protect his General by putting him behind Wolffe.

And all Plo witnesses is Wolffe got lost in market because he never have been in those place, and got confused over aggressive owner of shop because he never had to buy things from civilian, and etc about got confused over by many civilian life and underworld things. And Plo finally decides "Good or bad, I need to stick with him for his survival." And offers him to wander together.

Wolffe: I need to protecc my General!

Plo: No, guess I need to protect you.

That's all for now. Thank you so much.

[bonelessghoul]

the witcher and the sea (2)

Summary: A lot can happen in just one day. For the Princess and the Witcher, as a newfound trust finally begins to form between them, she only becomes more persistent in breaking every rule and challenging him. As Geralt adapts to Skellige and tries to find a plan to stop the Drowners with Moira’s help, more secrets of the Princess’s life come about and their new bond is put to the test when her friends are found to be in danger. But the Witcher soon realizes that one cannot say no to a Princess.

Words: 8.8k 

note: heyooo not really sure how many people will read this but hope those who do enjoy it!! Please give your feedback, reblog, like, and all that fun stuff. I tried to make this a little longer and more packed than the last part so I hope you all like it :)

Part One |...| Part Three

The morning came earlier than Moira would have liked with Saorise and a few of the handmaids entering her room at the crack of dawn with gowns for tonights feast.

“Good morning, Princess.” Saorise chimed.

In response, Moira turned on her side to face away from the curtains that were drawn open and she pulled the thick, silky blue blanket above her shoulders as she braced for the chilly air that came in from the open doors to her balcony.

“The guests won’t be arriving til noon, Saorise.” Moira groaned.

“That may be so, but your brother Eist has returned from Cintra.”

While she still wished to catch a few more hours of sleep, Moira sat up in bed and rubbed her crusted eyes as they adjusted to the pale morning light from the overcast skies. She hadn’t seen her brother all week and part of her found the motivation to spring up out of bed knowing he was arriving earlier than expected.

Saiorise was grabbing her a subtle dress to wear for the day from the wardrobe opposite of her bed, but Moira’s eyes were focused on the ones the handmaids brought in that were resting over chairs. They were surely sent by Birna who, despite dressing like a crow, picked out dresses that resembled the Turiseach’s colors of blues and silvers alike. Her eyes had immediately found the one in the middle.

It was the least tacky of blues, resembling the color of the ocean that reflected grey skies in its variety of tulley and netting. The corset was a light shade of blue, but hardly noticeable underneath the gold and silver sequins over the dark blue floral like fabric that spanned across the bust and just below her waist. There was a cape attached to it, hard over her shoulders and neck but the sleeves attached to it were sheer and the same color as the dress itself. That too shared the same dense silver and gold embroidery as her dress, and short silver chains connected it to the top of her corset.

Every little detail of the gown that Moira took in only made her eyes widen more and more with admiration.

“If you want me to get out of bed, Saorise, I think I would like to put on one of those dresses now.”

“Would you like us to prep you for the evening now, my Lady?” one of the maids asked.

Looking over at her Mage as she slipped out from under the covers, bare fit hitting the icy cold floor, the woman shrugged at her.

“Well, at least you will be spared from Birna harassing you to get ready today.”

Moira took a quick bath to freshen up, the sea breeze that blew in through her open balcony surely waking her up when her wet skin met the chilled air. But once she slipped into the gown and took a seat by the vanity her late sister once used, it was easier to listen to the duties she would have today as the guests arrived.

The Mage sat beside her, occassionally stepping outside while one of the maids went over the schedule of events.

“You will have breakfast with the King and Queen, the Jarl, and your nephew Crach will be joining as well.”

The other two maids were poking and prodding with her hair and face which made it slightly more difficult to hide her disgust at her nephew.

“The nephew that only bothers his uncles for whenever he needs favors and conveniently forgot my birthday last year. Lovely.” Moira said, only able to roll her eyes.

Saorise quickly turned though and walked into the room, shooting her frown.

“It’s not polite to speak of your nephew that way in front of the maids, Princess.” Saorise sighed, but there was an unmistakable look to her Mage’s face that only showed she couldn’t stand him either.

“Ladies, you remember the story of my precious nephew tattling on me to my brothers when I first picked up a bow and arrow, correct?”

“Yes, my Lady.” they said.

Moira beckoned her hand out to the women. “See? They know he’s a little rat.”

A few of them giggled and Saorise couldn’t hide her knowing grin either.

“After breakfast, the Queen has requested you help her make preparations for the court and then you two will stand with King Bran and Eist to greet the visitors. It seems you will be the one guiding everyone to the guest rooms.”

As the maid went down the list of her tasks, Moira’s mind drifted elsewhere to the Witcher. After their conversation yesterday evening, it had been mulling over in her thoughts and she was intending on speaking to him today if she even had a second or more to breathe. He was a hard man to read, and she tried to imagine all the ways she could approach him after making such a fool of herself. But even still, she was eager to find him at some point.

“And Moira, please don’t find any excuses to miss your duties today. If you even get a fingernail dirty I will know about it.” Saorise said, drawing her from her thoughts.

Moira frowned at her. “I would never do such a thing.” she assured.

Only moments later, the pair walked downstairs to the throne room which seemed all too empty with just her brothers standing around and guards posted like statues not too far away. But when Moira could hear Eist’s voice, a smile spread across her lips as her pace quickened to try and sneak up on him from behind.

But to no avail, Eist turned around with open arms before she had the chance.

“My dearest sister!” Eist beamed.

Eist looked younger than Bran, his hair darker like hers and his face unscathed of any aging despite all the battles he lead Skellige through. He was certainly dressed like a royal of Cintra though and maybe it was being on the sea for his travels that made him seem lighter with every moment, but his smile certainly had everything to do with Queen Calanthe.

“Hello, Eist.” Moira said, embracing her brother. “Tell me, are you finally married?”

His smile remained as he shook his head and sighed. “Not yet.”

Bran had been standing there, waving them over. “Come on, let’s eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Are you implying we start drinking now, my King?” Eist asked, raising a brow at him.

Moira laughed as she followed behind the two of them towards the long stretch of the dark wooden table where they would all be sitting this evening looking down on the room that would soon be filled to the brim.

“I think that is the best idea you have had. Perhaps you should visit Cintra more often.” Bran replied.

Without any commands, the servants from the kitchen were already at their table before they sat down with a freshly cooked breakfast of eggs, bread, and fruit. The two men had large pints of mead whereas she had wine, which she wasn’t sure would mix well for her food but Moira would not deny herself a drink.

“Where is Birna this morning?” Moira asked, leaning her head slightly forward to glance at them.

Bran swallowed his food and put his hand up.

“She was speaking with the Witcher after I had introduced Eist to the man who will put our people at ease. I think she will be very thrilled to see you wearing one of the dresses she had made for you.”

Moira’s brows raised as she sipped her wine.

“I’m sure she would be. Why did she need to speak with Geralt, though?”

“I see you’ve already learned his name.” Eist mused, looking at her suspiciously before turning towards Bran. “I still can’t fathom why you brought him here, brother. Our men are well suited to contain this problem that may I remind you, happens every year.”

Moira opened her mouth to question why Eist would care if she called the Witcher by his true name, but her family had always been wary of those who possess such abilities with the exception of their Mage. She was even more curious to know why Birna needed to speak with him but she refrained from asking any more questions at all.

“Eist, you cannot deny there is something off about all of this.”

“Maybe so, but how much do those of his kind ask for with such simple tasks?”

“The Isles have never been at peace as they are now! Finances are not a problem.”

As the two bickered the political nonsense Moira never cared for, she raised her glass to one of the servants who went to get her more wine. If this was the forecast of her day, she knew she was going to need it.

“Well on a lighter note, Moira, I have a present from Calanthe.”

Moira’s face contorted slightly as she sipped the freshly poured wine.

“A what? From Calanthe?”

Before she could even move, Eist had pulled out another bow and a fresh satchel of brand new arrows from the empty seat beside him and Moira’s jaw hit the floor. Immediately, she jumped from her seat and rushed over to her brother, marveling at the strong wood it had been carved from, glossy and shining from the mere daylight at every angle.

“Calanthe had this made for me?” Moira asked, her voice light as a feather while the excitement that ran through her squeezed at her heart.

“She knows a warrior when she sees one. While she’s never agreed with how Bran and I have raised you, I secrelty think she adores it.” Eist chuckled.

Moira’s eyes didn’t leave the new toy she had been gifted and she started to turn away, walking to return to her room while the two brothers called out her name.

“Moira, we have things to do today!” Bran called out.

“Then he should have shown me this tomorrow!” she casually replied, glancing back at him.

As she left the court, Saorise had been walking in her direction and Moira had nothing but the giddiest grin upon her lips.

“Where are you going?” her Mage asked, pausing as she kept walking.

“I’ll be back in time for the guests, don’t worry.” Moira chuckled.

The exasperation from Saorise’s face did not go unnoticed, but everyone knew there was no stopping her from trying this out now and let her go on her way.

Once she returned to her room, Moira immediately picked up her old beaten arrows and gently placed the new ones from Cintra upon her bed.

There was the nagging thought of knowing she had to help Birna with the preparations for tonight, but she easily dismissed it when she picked up her new bow and went outside. From her room, she could see the tiny harbor village down below. It seemed so much closer than it really was with the ships docked and the roofs of every home and establishment. Her favorite part was how she could see the way this part of the Isle curved, the mountains surrounding them like they were extensions of her own arms. There was even the rocks just a couple miles out that stuck out from the water like the back of a serpent.

Sometimes she felt as if she could shoot an arrow and it would land right on its surface.

But for now, Moira leaned upon the stone barrier between her and a very miserable descent to the gardens beneath her.

Sometimes, she would shoot at nothing. Other times, she would simply aim for a particular tree or somewhere down below just to mess with the guards. Moira was tempted to use her new arrows as her old ones didn’t feel right with this newly carved bow, but she knew she had to get rid of them sooner or later and did so by freely shooting them from her balcony.

Even though the air was cold, her newly tailored gown kept her warm enough and didn’t hinder the focus she needed in every muscle and breathe she took.

But as she came down to her last arrow, Moira caught side of a white haired figure all the way down to the left. From here, she could not make out Geralt’s face as he stood at the near opposite end of the castle at the stables, but she could see the indivudal stacks of hay under the wooden structure that held his horse Roach. Birna was nowhere to be seen, and she was still curious as to what they spoke about earlier, but knowing that she was gone made her more eager to mess with the Witcher.

She wanted to talk to him soon, and she still drew a blank as she did since last night when it came to what she wanted to say. By the time she would make it down there while he was alone he would surely be gone.

As the gears turned in her head, Moira quickly turned away from the balcony to rush back to the vanity and she searched for a piece of parchment and something to write with while anxiously hoping Geralt would still be standing there.

Once she found what she needed, she quickly scribbled down a simple little note, tying it to her last dainty little arrow as fast as her fingers could before rushing back out to the balcony. To her relief, the Witcher stood there presumably feeding roach from what she could make out from here. Placing the bow and drawing back, Moira sucked in all the air she could fill in her lungs and narrowed her eyes upon the wooden post that was only a few feet away from the two.

Maybe this would be a bad idea if there was a sudden breeze that suddenly ended with a dead Witcher or a horse and she halted for just a moment.

But when Geralt slowly started to turn away from Roach, Moira didn’t hesitate when letting go of the bowstring and still held her breath as she watched it soar across the air.

From the stables, Geralt had caught sight of the Princess a few moments ago aimlessly playing with her bow and arrow. Of course, she was not looking as he occasionally glanced up at her, his mind unable to wrap around the freedom she had with her title. Geralt didn’t know the brothers that held such power of Skellige, but what he knew didn’t surprise him one bit with what he’s learned about the Princess over the past day.

Roach made a soft little huf and swayed her head.

“I agree, Roach. She is hiding something about the Drowners.” Geralt responded, feeding her one last apple before turning away.

The horse made another sound, a bit harsher this time but it didn’t diguise the sound his supernatural hearing could only pick up. It was like the hum of an insect, except more high pitched and in the seconds it took to come close enough, Geralt turned around to hear the head of an arrow sink its way into the wooden post not too far from them.

“It seems this Princess also has a death wish.” he muttered with a frown on his lips as Roach became slightly startled.

Moira winced, guilty for causing the beautiful creature to become scared and quickly turned away to her room.

But Geralt, curiosity hidden under his firmly pressed lips watched as the little piece of parchment slipped off of the arrow and into the dirt. When he walked over to it to read it, his eyebrows raised, lightening his face ever so slightly.

“I will tell you what I know tonight. Say a word of it to my family and the next arrow will be in your head, Witcher.

Moira.”

By the end of it, Geralt could not hide the way the corner of his lip ticked up just a little, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Maybe this would all be worth the coin after all, he thought.

~~~

The day passed rather quickly and people from all over Skellige soon filled the castle.

Moira’s usually empty home came to life and she loved every second of it. Ever since Bran became king, court was hardly as fun with how much work he put into keeping the peace between the Isles but when he did decide to make things more interesting, it never failed to be a wonderful time.

But Skellige, the rowdy bunch that never missed an opportunity to dress up and drink til the sun rose the next morning, still maintained a decorum of formality to impress the royal family that ruled it and Moira was not used to it. As a child, everyone greeted her like the adorable little Princess she was and she would run off with her friends in no time but now there was a growing discomfort with every man that kissed her hand and girls she once called friends already married and staring at her with looks that could kill.

“Keep smiling, Princess.” Birna whispered, nearly breathing down her neck.

Moira whipped her head back to look at her, wearing a deep navy blue gown that was almost as detailed as hers but much more delicate. Whereas Moira looked like she could run into battle with the tiara upon her head, Birna did radiate a certain elegance that she never knew possible in Skellige.

Together though, the two of them standing before the entire population was a sight to be admired as they all gathered to greet them.

“I am smiling.” Moira hissed the second another family had passed them.

Birna raised an eyebrow at her before she turned back around.

“The dress you picked looks very nice. It’s probably why every girl looks like they want to kill you and every man wants to get down on one knee.”

Moira scoffed, still maintaining her smile as one of the men from Ard Skelling took her hand. She had to force her politeness as she curtseyed for the man who was twice her age.

“It’s almost as disturbing as you complimenting me.” Moira said as the man went away.

Moira had to give some credit to the man her brother chose to love. What they had was genuine, something that didn’t happen often in this world. Despite their relentless fights, with the mother and sister she never truly got to know gone, Birna had done her best to mold her into the woman she was today even with resistance from Moira.

As her brothers, Birna, and Saorise turned to take their seats, she shared a secret grin with her Mage who had overheard her conversation.

“Who knew she could be so nice to me?” Moira said under her breath, wiggling her brows as they ascended the stairs.

Saorise laughed gently. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess. You know she will tear you to shreds over something so little at some point tonight.”

Moira agreed and just as she reached the top of the stairs, her brothers and Birna already at their seats, a new face had walked down the aisle of already seated members of the court,

“My king, you have one more guest tonight.” a guard said.

Moira turned around, Saorise still trailing behind her a few stairs below her, and just over her shoulders the Witcher himself entered and a similar feeling to the first time she saw him just yesterday evening washed over her.

She froze midstep, watching as he strode over towards them, and everything within her seemed to tighten like a coil.

Geralt’s eyes were as gold as the chandeliers above them, and she watched as they quickly scanned over her dress and suddenly she could feel every inch of fabric on her skin like fire. She wondered if he felt scrutinized by her when she looked at the hardened armor as black as night that he wore, curious about the silver pendant around his neck.

As every hair on her began to stand, feeling pulled into some world where she forgot that the entirety of Skellige’s most important families surrounded them, she was quickly drawn back to reality when her brother Bran breezed by her to greet the Witcher halfway.

It almost made her laugh at how short the Witcher made everyone look.

“Why is he dressed like that?” Eist asked, his voice low.

“He’s a mutant. Of course he wouldn’t know how to dress appropriately for court.”

Moira glanced back at them.

“That’s a rude way to speak of the man who’s going to rid of us our Drowners problem.”

They dismissed her easily and ascended the stairs to take their seats and Moira took one last glance at Geralt before following them with Saorise.

Once above all of the guests, she watched as every head in the court turned on the Witcher as Bran led him up to their table, their whispers hardly going unnoticed. After knowing how he could hear her heartbeat, she wondered if he could hear the things they were saying.

But when Bran picked up his pint, tapping one of the butter knives against it, every whisper and sound from the small band ceased.

“People of Skellige! I welcome you to this wonderful occasion which I am sure you are all wondering what it’s about.” Bran announced, his deep voice filling the hall. “I’m sure you’re all even more curious as to why we have a Witcher in our presence.”

Looking over at Geralt who stood there with a straight face, she could sense his disdain for the show her brother was putting on. Or perhaps he just always looked like that.

“As many of you may already know or have heard whispers about, An Skellige has been plagued by an uprise of monsters that have once kept quiet and has been harming the people of our villages. I want to do what is best for my people, even if those of you from the other Isles may not be affected, I want it to be known that everyone’s safety is a matter I take seriously which is what led me to my decision in bringing a Witcher here to prove that to you all.”

People began to clap, and Moira did too.

“But even in this troubling time where many of the people of An Skellige may be concerned, I want it to be known that the Witcher will slay the beasts that think they can attack people of Skellige nonetheless!”

The claps got louder, the men cheering now which brought a smile to Moira’s lips.

Bran then turned to the Witcher.

“Geralt of Rivia, I welcome you to Skellige and will provide anything you need to do what it takes. Now, lets eat, drink, and show this Witcher what it is like to celebrate amongst us!”

The Witcher had a smile on his face now, even if it seemed like he had to put it on for show. Her brother was always one to put on a show, so she was glad that he could at least pretend to enjoy such attention while it was all on him. To her relief though, he sat on the opposite end of the table from him and once food was served, her stomach was in too many knots to properly enjoy it.

“You think you could make it a little less obvious that you’re infatuated with him, Princess?” Saorise said.

Moira sipped her wine and glanced at her mage.

“You are imagining things, Saorise.” she dismissed.

The woman grinned at her, a taunting grin at that.

“I haven’t seen you look at anyone that way since Rotty came back from those long months at sea with the rest of the navy.”

“That was a pathetic little crush I had when I was fifteen!” Moira cried, laughing as she looked at the woman. “Plus, every woman here is oggling at the Witcher. I’m here to help him get rid of the Drowners and nothing more because he will be on his way traveling and slaying monsters across the Continent.”

“You like danger, Moira, and I fear that Geralt of Rivia is a very attractive piece of danger to you.” she said, sighing with exasperation.

“I don’t see a problem with that.” she shrugged, glancing across the table to catch another look at him.

The moment people finished eating, it wasn’t long before guests started to fill the open space of the floor to dance in pairs to the light music the band played.

After a couple glasses of wine, Moira even dragged Saorise out to the floor with her and they linked arms and danced together like she was a child again. Even Eist joined after forcing Bran and Birna to come down with him and for a moment, she forgot that she needed to speak with Geralt.

The one thing Moira adored about her family depsite all of their bickering was that they were not the type of royalty to remain seated and look at their people through their noses. They were more than ready to drink and dance amongst their people like they were all one big family which they all were more or less.

It was why she never feared being a traditional Princess.

Moira eventually backed away from the crowd, stearing more towards the open balcony windows so she could catch the cool air while still remaining in the ballroom itself.

As she stood on the outskirts of it all, admiring the crowd that sung and danced together, she noticed Geralt come up beside her out of the corner of her eye and immediately straigthened up.

Everything from the way he stood to the way his eyes seemed to scrutinize the guests gave her the impression that he didn’t quite know what to do, aside from the obvious part of how much he did not fit in.

“I sense you don’t really like big parties being thrown in your honor?” Moira asked, staring up at him as he scanned the crowd.

The Witcher heaved a sigh as he looked at her with a lighter expression compared to his unnervingly blank face.

“I never really have parties thrown in my name. Kings and rulers typically keep my presence hidden and the job they have for me secret.”

“I’m almost surprised by that. So, I assume you don’t typically like these royal parties then?”

Geralt looked back out at the people of Skellige and her family in particular, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“It is not necessarily my cup of tea.”

Moira snickered, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the column she stood near.

“I didn’t take your kind as the type who would drink tea anyway.”

“You’re right. We prefer to keep a stash of the blood of the monsters we slay anyway.”

She quickly turned to him, her mind letting her believe that he was serious for a moment by the way he didn’t even blink.

“Wait, really?”

“No.” Geralt said, looking at her with raised brows that seemed to pull up the corner of his lips as well.

Nervously, she let out a laugh, and Moira shook her head as she looked down at her shimmering gown.

“Well, speaking of monsters, I do believe I owe you an honest conversation about the Drowners.”

“It appears you do, Princess.”

Moira frowned at him. “Call me Moira.”

Geralt nodded. “Understood.”

Taking a deep breath, her memory of the Drowners unfolded as she tried to figure out where to start and still cover her tracks.

“We have a pretty skilled navy and army here on Skellige. So, when the Drowners started to claim more lives than they normally do in the winter, my brother decided to send them out to patrol the area. My best friends are in the navy and I grow restless in the castle so I decide to sneak out and help them.”

“That’s very bold of you.”

Moira glared. “I am very skilled with weapons. I grew up with two brothers who didn’t ever really know how to raise a little girl without putting a sword into her hands for fun.”

“Your aim with a bow and arrow is impeccable but I think Roach would disagree.” Geralt mused.

“In all fairness, I did not mean to startle your horse. It was mainly a jab at you for being so forward last night. Anyway, you’re getting away from the point!”

“Carry on.” he said, nodding at her.

“One night, we were patrolling one of the streams that go through the woods. It isn’t that close to the village, but it connects to the bay just off of Urialla Harbor where we’ve seen them the most and thought that’s where people have been getting snatched up. What we found out was true, and that they have been traveling from the bay in numbers I’ve never heard of.”

“That’s when you got attacked.”

“Yes.” Moira sighed. “The waters were covered in mostly ice, which is why we didn’t expect to see them, but since that night we’ve went back to that area and have probably killed about a dozen already.”

Moira knew she was keeping a major part of the story out, but it was a secret buried so deep that no one other than Saorise would ever know. But she was comfortable with what she told him and hoped he wouldn’t pick up on what she left out. Technically, she wasn’t lying.

“That bay you mentioned, has there ever been anything else there?”

Moira shrugged. “Just a couple of weird caves but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a place where everyone goes in the warmer months.”

Geralt seemed to be trying to connect the dots in his head, but when he nodded, she was slightly relieved.

“Any ideas yet?”

“Not really. I can slip out tonight and try to find out more for myself.”

Nodding slowly, Moira wanted to interject and offer to come with him, but Saorise had been approaching them.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Witcher.” Saorise said, bowing her head towards him before turning to her. “You, Princess, cannot be seen hiding in the corners of a celebration thrown by your own family.”

Glancing at Geralt who seemed to be amused at this, she sighed heavily and started to walk with her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Moira said, glancing back at him.

“Thank you, Princess.” Geralt smirked.

Before she could snap at him, Saorise had pulled her to dance again and the two were back to how they were except this time, she looked at Geralt every chance she had as he still stood in the same spot she left him.

“It was only a matter of seconds before Birna scolded you for talking with him.” Saorise said, pulling her away again.

Moira shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

As Moira danced with her family again, she had unlinked arms with Eist and thought she would be jumping into a dance with Bran but instead found her nephew Crach joining her and her mouth was instantly filled with a bitter taste.

“Oh, look who it is!” the young man boasted.

Moira smiled at him cockily as they continued the dance routine.

“How unfortunate it is to see you again, my dear nephew.”

Crach shared a strong resemblance to Bran with a face full of light colored hair and the same eyes the whole family had. But he had the brain of a boar and certainly embodied the arrogance of once. She never imagined how her fair sister could have conceived such a pest.

“You’re breaking my heart, Moira! We’re still family you know!”

“We may be family, but you are a royal pain in my ass who in fact, does not seem to care about family.”

They switched positions again, and she was eager to find another partner, her head on a swivel as she was practically flailing around and missing steps while she danced with him.

“What were you doing talking to the Witcher? You know Birna would have a fit for not speaking to an eligible bachelor.”

Moira rolled her eyes.

“Not all of us have the luxury of escaping to live with another family in the Isles, Crach.”

“Maybe you should finally marry and leave Skellige entirely. Ever think of that? It’s not like it’s hard, Princess—but wait, it seems you still think you can be a soldier.”

Striking a nerve in her, Moira snatched her arm a way from him, causing a ruffle in the flow of Skellige’s most traditional jigs as she now stood in the center of it aflame with anger spewing towards her nephew.

“Don’t judge me when you know all the women at every brothel in the Isles, you little rat.” Moira seethed.

Crach put his hands up in defense, giggling like a little boy as he did so.

“I mean no ill intent, Moira. Don’t get so riled up, you know that isn’t attractive.”

Moira stepped forward. “I’ll show you riled up when I shove my—”

“Princess.” said an unfamiliar voice.

Moira sharply turned around, her blood pumping with more heat towards the pest she called a nephew only to find Skjordal Drummon, the jarl of one of the clans that rivaled Crach and his family on Ard Skellige. The man was at least fifteen years older than her and it showed, but his mere presence made her go cold as he looked down at her with a hunger to his eyes that every man had tonight.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Skjordal.” Moira said, her voice strained as she straightened herself out.

“May I have this dance? My absence on this island has suited me well I suppose, and it’s an honor to have returned to witness such elegance and grace you have grown into.”

“She would love to!” Crach said, gently pushing her forward.

Moira’s heart was racing, unable to process the sickening comment her made to her still even as her hands became intertwined with his, making her skin crawl. Every fiber of her being wished to have whipped around and hit Crach with all her might, but instead, she was left with the repulsive feeling that made her stomach churn as Skjordal gleefully pulled her into the dance routine.

The seconds felt like long, brutal minutes as Moira kept her attention elsewhere as they danced, waiting for the song to switch by the band so she could run away from the way his hand squeezed hers and the other rested on her back. She was choking on her own breath as she kept her chin tilted up for formalities.

Skjordal had a daughter that was almost her age, having been sent off to the Continents a couple years ago with a new husband.

It sickened her that he was trying to pull her in every chance he got as the song continued on so much so that it began to make her dizzy.

As her gaze remained on anything else, she kept making eye contact with Geralt.

From the outside, he could sense her discomfort after being irritated by her nephew and shoved into the arms of a man old enough to be her father. She was looking for every chance she could to escape, and Geralt would be lying if he said the sight of it didn’t bother him.

But that was the fate of most princesses he encountered, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised to see it happening to Moira.

Before the song could even end, Moira had forced herself to pull back and she quickly put her hand up to her head to give the impression that she was exhausted.

“I must say, all this dancing has me feeling quite ill. I think I didn’t eat enough this evening.” Moira laughed faintly. “I appreciate the dance, Skjordal. We will have to do it again later!”

In reality, her face was as white as snow as it was slowly draining of its color as that of a truly ill person, but she was also flustered to finally have gotten away from the dance. If she continued any more then she would have surely fainted in the middle of it all.

Before the jarl could even answer, Moira slipped away, just catching a glimpse of the offense he took to her leaving, and she wanted to run to the kitchens for any water she could find. As she breezed through the dense crowd, she only started to feel more irritated from every drunken Skelliger that brushed up against her, every touch making her want to scream.

What nearly set her over the edge was a firm but dainty hand grabbing her elbow and pulling her back, bringing her face to face with Birna.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled in a hushed tone, her eyes wildly angry, yet still perfectly shielding her body from any wandering eyes.

Moira was confused though, yanking her arm back.

“Do not grab me like that, Birna.” Moira said, backing away. “We may be family but you are still no more than my rotten sister in law and that doesn’t give you permission to—”

“Family looks out for family, you spoiled brat.” Birna snapped, stepping forward again. “What you did by running off from a member of the Drummond clan was embarrassing! Your brother has done nothing but bring the Isles together in no way that anyone has ever seen. What will they think when Skjordal runs off and tells everyone you made a fool of him that way!”

Moira was at a loss for words, her chest rising and falling as every possible curse flooded her mind.

“He’s a man, he wouldn’t admit to being made a fool by a princess.” Moira said, picking the softer of responses for the sake of the night.

Birna laughed darkly, shaking her head, a gleam of sadness to her desperate eyes.

“You don’t get it, Princess.” she scowled. “You don’t understand how brutal men can be when they don’t get what they want.”

Tears immediately stung her eyes. Little did the precious Queen know, Moira knew all too well how brutal a man could be even without doing a single thing to provoke it. It was something she was not shy to whether she acted like a Princess or not.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Moira said between gritted teeth.

“I know enough to know that your brothers have guided you to believe you won’t be married off someday, and it should have already happened! You cannot sit here and think you are exempt from this path, and you cannot let the men of Skellige believe that either if your brother’s reputation as king means anything to you!”

Moira was trembling, every word suffocating her more and more.

She felt helpless against Birna who knew all the right things to say to pick her apart and get her to listen.

But that frustration that built up in her was growing, so much so that the winds outside began to pick up. It was as if the tide was at her fingertips.

Her eyes immediately scanned the room for Saorise as the fear of her own strength began to creep in with that deep hum from her blood.

“Who said anything about marriage?” Moira scoffed, trying to downplay what was truly happening outside the walls.

“You are a naïve little girl, Moira. If you don’t think your brothers know you are overdue for starting your life as a true woman, then you are deeply mistaken.”

The tears that stung her eyes made the Birna and the chandeliers beyond her head blur. Blinking them away, she glanced outside through the windows and saw that snow started to fall.

Moira could feel the storm within her, every gust of wind with every breath and every word Birna spoke fueling her imagination that every snowflake was like ice shredding against her skin. It was dark, even for Moira, but it would be worth releasing the numbing buzz that ran over every inch of skin. She had the strength of a thousand oceans in her mind and if she even blinked the wrong way, Moira swore that the waves could swallow the whole island.

“If you think I’m going to whore myself out to any man of power that walks through these doors like you did, you are deeply mistaken.”

Without another word, Moira turned away, knowing that it would be too much for her to stay around and stormed out to the balcony where she prayed no one would bother her as she hid off to the dark corner that wasn’t touched by the light of the party.

The brisk air was welcoming to her, the gentle snow that seemed harsh with the wind calming as she took deep breaths. Her hand rested against the stone where ice seemed to have covered, and that bone deep chill seemed to bring her fuzzy mind back to reality.

Anyone would have guessed that it was a gust of wind bringing some extra snow off the roof of their castle.

“Moira…” said a gentle voice that belonged to her mage.

Looking down at her feet that stood in the small dusting of snow, she felt a single tear roll down her cheek from the waterfall she was trying to hold back.

“I just want to be alone, Saorise. I have it under control.”

Her knuckles were as white as the gentle coating beneath her from the way she was gripping the stone railing.

It hurt her to push her away, especially knowing that her mage was the one who helped hide this mysterious magic that flowed through her blood. But of all people she would understand and if she could convince her that she had it under control, she hoped that it would keep her convinced that her family would never know.

When Moira heard her footsteps walk away, she felt it was a little easier to breathe.

But then, when she heard another pair of footsteps return, she sharply turned around.

“I said I wanted to be—”

Moira paused at the sight of Geralt who was looking at her quizically.

“It’s you.” she sighed, a cloud of her air pushing through her lips before she turned back around.

Staring out at the forest that looked like a black abyss at night, she knew that she had very little chance of hiding from him now.

“That was quite a show you put on.” Geralt said, coming up beside her. “You’re lucky none of the members of this court are sober enough to put two and two together.”

Moira scoffed, chuckling humorouslessly as her head tilted back.

“I wish I could say I had no idea what you were talking about, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Geralt leaned back on the railing her hands rested upon, arms folded across his chest, and he shook his head at her.

“Not a chance.”

They stood there in silence, and yet the chaos that stirred within her as she tried to come down from the events that occurred over the span of ten agonizing minutes somehow seemed to disappear with him being there. Maybe it was the comfort of someone who knew nothing about her. Either way, she was almost glad he found his way to the balcony.

“Did you freeze the waters in the Isle?” Geralt asked, not in an accusing way which took her by surprise.

Moira thought back to that night when the Drowners attacked her and her friends and she could still feel that rush of power that took over her when they became too much.

“There were so many, and they ran. I got caught up trying to fight them off and once the one lunged at me, it sort of just happened. The entire stream was frozen over in an instant, half of their bodies still crawling out just frozen in time.”

“Hmm.” was all he said.

She raised a brow at him. “Wonderful response.”

They stood in silence once more and the guilt started to eat her away.

“Did I cause this?” she asked.

Geralt shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Moira turned her whole body to face him. “I need more than a few worded answers, Geralt.”

He sighed. “The Drowners are simple minded creatures. The ice would turn them away, not bring more to fight through it. I do not think your seemingly unhinged magic caused it but something else. I just have to figure out what.”

Moira could sense that now that he knew all the pieces to the puzzle, he was slightly troubled as well trying to figure out what exactly the missing piece was.

“Did you just call me unhinged?” she asked.

“I don’t think I could call it anything else, Princess. How exactly does one in your position go her whole life hiding something like that?”

Moira scoffed at him.

“Did it ever occur to you that these things might not be welcomed in Skellige? That my family would ship me off to those cult like schools where girls become mages? Saorise told me of them, before she got lucky with my family she said it was hell.”

Geralt shrugged.

“There are worse fates.”

Moira crossed her arms, the cold finally seeping in through her dress now.

“And tell me, what do you know about fates, Witcher? You get to freely roam the Continent every day of your life, collecting money for risking your life. I am doomed to marriage and children and my people despise me because I don’t want any of it.”

“Like I said, there are worse fates.”

“You are truly a man of words.” she said mockingly.

They fell in silence again, which was more comforting than them speaking and she could find peace and their newfound trust. At least, she felt as if she could trust him a little more now after what took place tonight. It was such a shame it had to be ruined but she was relieved that she could find herself talking freely with someone other than Saorise.

“I’m going to take Roach out to the bay and see what I can find.”

Moira’s head perked up from where she stared at the dark ocean in the distance.

“I can help.”

Geralt’s head sharply turned towards her.

“No.”

“Did I hear you correctly?”

“Not used to being told no?” he retorted.

“That isn’t fair. I just told you everything. I deserve to help. I’ve been out there every night since before you came here.”

“And tonight you can peacefully sleep knowing I’m going to handle it.”

Moira watched his lips curve and she started to notice a pattern with the ways she could get him to crack that stubborn face of his, and it all seemed to be when he got a rise out of her. But even still, she couldn’t help but stare at him like he had two heads.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“It’s Moira.” she said under her breath, watching as the Witcher left her on the balcony.

~~~

The following morning came with a heavy pit in Moira’s stomach from the moment she woke.

It was the calm after the storm following the events of last night, and the princess laid in bed staring out through the glass doors of her balcony, having left the curtains drawn last night by accident. It was another overcast morning and she could see the leftover dusting of snow on the stone and the mountains beyond it from where her head lay. But despite the echo of her terrible evening still resounding through her, there was something off about what today would bring and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

By the time Moira dragged herself from her bed, she slipped into more comfortable attire and hoped the guests were gone by now before making her way downstairs where she would hopefully find her brothers. If they weren’t already awake in the throne room discussing plans for the coming days, she had a few other spots in mind and wouldn’t be surprised if they had still been sleeping in.

As Moira neared the open doors to the throne room, she could already hear more than just her brothers voices.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Moira immediately entered the room without hesitation, finding her brothers, Geralt, and three men dressed in the Skellige navy uniform with one looking more wounded. A warning seemed to arise from her deepest thoughts before she even knew what was happening, and immense worry began to fill her as she made eye contact with the Witcher who didn’t look any more pleased than the rest of them.

“Ah, Moira.” Bran greeted, seated slumped in his throne while Eist shared a dismal look at his side. “It might be best if you come back later. I can have one of the guards bring you breakfast to your room, if you’d like.”

Moira raised a brow at him.

“You only offer me breakfast in bed when something is wrong.” She frowned.

Suddenly, one of the navy men turned around and she immediately recognized Arnie who stood there with a bruised face and his arm held in a swath to keep it stabalized after injuring it and her heart sunk. She could see a terrible heartbreak written on his face and she immediately approached him, hugging him carefully as her worst fears started to rise in her mind.

“Where is Rotty and Orin?” Moira demanded from her brothers, glancing at Arnie.

Eist sighed, looking down before turning his attention back to her. “Your friends, as well as three others from our forces were trapped on Undvik after unsuccessfully trying to fend off the ice giant.”

Two of her three closest friends were now missing, and she felt the crushing weight of it the way it was written across Arnie’s face.

“Will you be sending more men to try and rescue them?” Moira asked, her voice tight.

The thought of them being gone was not one she could easily believe. Maybe she couldn’t except it, but she felt it deep in her soul that it was not possible.

“Moira, dear…” Eist said, his eyes sad as they looked at her.

“No.” she laughed, shaking her head. “They are not only my friends but your men. How could that not be your first course of action?!”

“Moira, you don’t understand what happened. There was an avalanche and we got separated.” Arnie said, his bleary eyes looking at her.

The boy she knew as the weakest link between his brother and their friend Orin who might as well have been a brother too now looked strong. He was strong in his own ways compared to the two, but now standing alone, she could see just how much his face changed as he accepted their fate.

“But you’re not going to try?” Moira asked.

“We have plans in place but we need time to figure out our best course of action.”

There was not a doubt in her mind that she would go there herself to find them. Even if she had to go against her brothers wishes, Moira would not live with herself if she wasn’t the one to make the tough, irrational decision to go and at least try whether they were alive or not.

Turning on her heels, Moira didn’t even spare the Witcher a glance as she left the room in silence.

Once alone, her imagination got the best of her as she pictured Rotty and Orin buried under the snow, frozen to death by now or worse, torn up by an ice giant she’s only ever read stories about. Tears pricked her eyes, but she swatted them away as the plan unfolded in her mind. By the time she got back to her room though, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until she went to her wardrobe and saw the Witcher standing in her doorway.

“Nice room.” Geralt said, leaning upon the door frame with his arms crossed. “Do you really think you are going to take on an ice giant on your own and save your friends even if they’re alive.”

Moira wanted to ignore him, in no mood to hear a lecture that anyone else would give her at any given time. She raided her closet for the clothes she would often wear when searching for Drowners at night with her friends and goes behind the tall, wood bordered screen to change.

“I know Witcher’s don’t have many friends, and quite honestly, I do not have many myself, but I will be damned if my brother thinks he can take his time constructing a plan before sending another crew out. Hell will freeze over before I lose them.”

Aggressively, she switched out of her clothes and into her new ones, hands shaking as she did so and not wanting to think of what faces Geralt was making on the other side of the screen.

“I don’t doubt your ability to freeze hell over, Princess.”

Groaning, she peaked her head out from behind the screen. “Moira. And I could do without the snide comments.”

As she finished changing, she quickly added, “You can play hero and tattle to my brothers about me all you’d like, Geralt but I am going no matter what anyone else has to say.”

“I don’t have to tell your brothers because I already offered my services to solve this problem.”

Moira froze for a moment, stepping out from behind the screen, watching as he came further into her room.

“I suppose you didn’t mention I would be tagging along, did you?”

The Witcher frowned at her, arms dropping at his sides.

“You can’t fight a monster on this scale.”

“And you can’t sail a ship as far as I am concerned.”

Moira reached behind her bed to grab her sword, as well as her new bow and arrow which clearly impressed him.

“I suppose you’re not going to take no for an answer?” Geraly asked.

“You can’t tell a princess no, Geralt.”

There was a pit embedded in her stomach from the moment she woke up, and it made her feel sick now knowing that lying and sneaking behind her brothers’ backs to this extent was not something she’s ever done before. But as she stared at the Witcher, there was a mutual understanding and despite the way this tore her apart, Moira couldn’t help but acknowledge that this thrilled her more than anything.

~

[livingonmyown]

For my dear @xuelingxu belated birthday story🎁❤️ I hope you like it!😊  

***

A Jealous Fox 

…For cheese, like the innards of sacrificed animals, the flight of a swallow or…

- Hahaha, I got ya! – Ciri’s excited giggle reached Avallac’h’s pointy ears as he tried to entertain his solitary recovery by reading anything that Vesemir brought from the witcher's library. Zireael laugh was a pleasant sound, Avallac’h mused, like hundreds of silver tinker bells moved by a breeze. His enjoyment soon turned into a grimace of annoyance as a second voice joined in.

- Oi you, little minx! You’re too pretty to be mad at you!! – a booming voice with a thick Skelligen accent followed Ciri’s reply.

Avallac’h involuntarily rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the voices from the outside. He may have lived 400 years, but still couldn’t comprehend how females of any race could find dh’oine’s advances remotely alluring or attractive. And the courtship of the Skelligen ginger head made even Geralt’s pick-up lines to Yennefer sound sophisticated. Avallac’h didn’t have the rather doubtful pleasure of meeting the eldest offspring of courageous Crach an Craite in person. However, the Knowing One did notice how the guest's presence was enthusiastically received by his unruly pupil, which oddly soured his already somber mood.

- Pff… - Ciri snorted dismissively – as if my appearance has anything to do with me beating your arse, Hjalmar!

This time it had been corners of the elf’s shapely lips that twitched uncontrollably and turned upwards. Zireael could be impossible at times, with her combative spirit and impudence but Avallac’h would lie if he said that he didn’t find it fascinating, and in this particular case, fairly amusing. 

- Aye it does! – the redhead replied insistently – You’ve been using your pretty face as a distraction since you were ten!

Avallac’h told himself that it is beneath the mighty Aen Saevherne to eavesdrop, yet his ears pricked up attentively.

- Distraction you say? – Ciri retorted with her usual brazenness - I beat you fair and square during that jumping competition years ago! You smashing your face on the ice didn’t have anything to do with my good looks!

Avallac’h put the book away and shifted closer towards the window. He recalled Zireael telling him proudly about some trivial victory on ice once, but only now he was truly invested in hearing the whole story, especially the part when the redhead dh’oine fell flat on the ice. 

- Well, it was all worth it! - Hjalmar booming voice echoed under Avallac’h’s window. - After all, you were visiting me every day, taking care of me, bringing me treats, and holding my hand until we fell in love.

Avallac’h’s eyes moved instinctively to the empty tray that Zireael had brought to him yesterday, full of his favourite treats, including, a bowl of wild berries with sour cream, and a honeycomb that she nabbed from Vesemir’s private stockpile. Since her return with Geralt, she was visiting him every day, and he had to admit that her attention pleased him greatly, and somehow sweeten his slow and painful recovery. The sage also noticed regretfully, that since the arrival of that Skelligen pirate, Zireael's visits have become more irregular. And if not for the pending threat from the Wild Hunt, he would be more than happy if the young warrior took the first ship back to Skellige.

- Hjalmar, you adorable oaf! – Ciri’s chuckled at his words – I was ten, you were fifteen, it was puppy love at most! Surely you have loved many girls since our parting.

- I LIKED many girls, but I loved only you! – Hjalmar replied vehemently – I would have searched for you if not for Yennefer.

There was a long pause after Hjalmar’s confession, and Avallac’h realised that his heart stopped too while waiting for Ciri’s reply. He didn’t know why her answer was so important to him, but he felt like he would die if he didn’t hear it, whatever the answer might be.

- Oh … - it was the only sound that escaped Ciri’s lips, and Avallac’h was close to take a risk and stumble his way towards the window just to see her face. The pause continued, and Avallac’h never in his life felt so impatient.

It was now the turn of Hjalmar to let out a noise of surprise: 

- Ah right. Stupid me… - he stumbled, and Avallac’h noted dryly that at least the dh’oine described himself accurately. - …I should have assumed that after all these years… and … I…forgive me Ciri … I shouldn’t have said that …

Despite his disdain towards the young Skelligan, Avallac’h felt a pang of sympathy towards him. There was nothing more worth pity than being rejected. The elf knew it too well…

- Hjalmar – Ciri broke the silence, her voice unusually soft – there is nothing to forgive truly… I very much appreciate your company, and the memories of our childhood are one of those the most cherished by me.

- You don't have to say anything else Ciri – Hjalmar chipped in, his voiceless resolute yet still friendly – I understand. Still, you are too pretty to be mad at you!

Ciri smiled with relief, and the tension left Avallac’h's body. In turn, his muscles started to tremble - a signal that he had to take his medication. The last thing he heard, was their laughs and screams and giggles that sounded presumably like a chase across the training yard in Kaer Morhen until the utterly displeased voice of Vesemir reminded them that this is witcher’s keep and not a playground.

 **

Avallac’h woken up from his restless slumber to a quiet creak of the opening door. He looked groggily towards the visitor, and the pair of emerald eyes greeted him warmly.

- Taking your beauty sleep, I see? – she said playfully, while her gaze dropped to Avallac’h exposed chest, taking in all the swirls and charms of his tattoos. 

Avallac’h covered himself instinctively, and Ciri snorted at his reaction. 

- Stop acting like a prude. I have seen you naked many times.

- That you have Zireael. Mind you, I was in better shape than now - Avallac’h replied with his usual composure, but she did notice a faint blush at the tip of his sharp ears.

Ciri knew that Avallac’h’s body didn't fully recover after the curse. She could see that he was skinnier, his cheeks were sunken, making his cheekbones even more prominent, and his bony shoulders picked through the smooth skin. Despite the changes, she found him as attractive as ever.

- Good that I bring more treats then, you will be your own handsome self in no time – she joked but heat raised to her cheeks.

This time she brought him a basket full of delicious victuals for which Avallac’h gave her a warm, grateful smile.

- I gather you had a good day - he started casually, trying to not betray what he had overheard in the morning.

- Oh yes! It was lovely – Ciri replied enthusiastically – Hjalmar and I played tag for half a day until Vesemir told us off. 

- I thought you forgot about me – Avallac’h replied lightly or at least tried to sound unbothered. However, the slight quiver to his voice betrayed his true feelings.

The pair of those accursed green orbs bore onto his aquamarine eyes searchingly, and Avallac’h knew that he would never be free of them.

- It sounds almost like you missed me – she retorted jokingly but has been still holding his gaze as if to find evidence of his endearment in his eyes.

Before Avallac’h got a chance to answer, Hjalmar’s thundering voice broke the silence as he roared under the window.

- Ciri?! Cirilla! Coming to hunt a boar? Eskel says that he knows their lair!

Ciri swiftly jumped off the bed and ran to the window and Avallac’h was very much astounded by how vehemently he resented the omnipresent redhead. 

- Must you roar like boar yourself?! - Ciri shouted back.

- You know that my… - she looked quickly at her mentor who pretended to be completely immersed in the book he was reading earlier - …Avallac’h needs some peace and quiet.

- Sorry love, are you going or not? – Hjalmar shouted back, still too loud for Avallac’h liking. He was even starting to consider practicing a silencing spell on Ciri’s wild admirer.

Avallac’h felt Ciri’s gaze as he kept feigning his interest in the book and hoped that she didn’t find out how much he would be disappointed if she chose to join Hjalmar. Her stare was too intense, and he felt compelled to assure her that he didn't mind her leaving. Avallac'h mustered the most impassive look on his face and was about to say his lines when Ciri quickly turned back to the window and answered back.

- Not tonight. I promised Avallac’h to read him some books.

Avallac’h could hear some muttering, and Lambert’s cackling about 'Ciri being sweet on her elf’ to which Ciri closed the window forcefully, and jumped back on the bed.

- Fascinating – Avallac’h muttered – since when do I need help with reading the books?

- Since you’ve been reading them upside-down – Ciri retorted casually and took the book from Avallac’h’s hands.

No other words passed between them as Ciri made herself comfortable on the stack of pillows next to ‘her elf’, and continued with the reading:

What splendid diversity reigns in the kingdom of cheese!... 

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between  Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

[werezmastarbucks]

honolulu

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 1468

music: i’m not worried at all by moby

warnings: suicide

Picture this: you were sitting on the asphalt, balancing on your zombie board, in your new grunge jean shorts which were your current obsession. The road was empty, only the high palm trees leaned down a little as if trying to see closely what Kai Parker is doing.

In front of him, on the ground as well, your red bike stood upside down, and he was very busy with the drive, fooling around with the screw. He was the best with the small pieces mechanisms, and the more the machine was, the less interest it sparked in him.

The street was almost magenta with the intense glow of the Maui volcano induced smoky sunset. There was this particular street in Ala Moana in Honolulu that you liked to hang out on, because it had the smoothest roads. And the view of the mountains was insane. Everything on Oahu was breathtaking, even the white and yellow rocks forming the Mermaid Whirlpool on the North Shore. Since there was no one here but you, there was no way to find out whether mermaids really lived on Oahu. Which was a big loss. Nobody else but you...

“Here’s the thing, I’ve trained myself, but you’ll learn it pretty quickly”, Kai nodded like he knew what he was saying. You were swinging yourself gently on the road. “That’s how I coped with it so many years. I just took one state of mind, and stretched it for months...”

You hummed and sipped on your A&W. Kai was going insane on Zima, but you were more of a root beer kind of girl.

“How’s that?”

“You keep telling me about the three foot world. Make it one foot”, he pulled the drive chain, and stained his shirt a little. You watched the muscles of his arm working as he tried to temper your bike.

“What do you feel right now?”

You lifted your face to the sky and looked at the colored clouds. Insane spectacular show. You felt fulfilled and at the root of it, was the understanding you were screwed, and it was Kai who screwed you. It was his fault you two clicked, and matched, and he made you complete. He made you feel like this inescapable situation was not bad at all.

“I don’t want to say”, you smiled. Kai grinned in return,

“What, embarrassed to say you like what you’re seeing?”

“I feel peaceful”, you tried to dismiss his suggestiveness. “Somehow”.

“I bet Moby is playing in your head”, he muttered. Parker knew you well. “It’s always ambient with you when the sun is setting. You feel pink?”

“I feel pink and peaceful”.

“I feel like mango cheesecake. I take this, and I pull it on myself, and I stay like this for as long as I can. That way, you don’t feel time, because you’re entertained. You think about cheesecake all the time”.

You looked through him, trying to imagine listening to ambient Moby in your head for months, and not thinking about anything else.

“You do the opposite thing now, we hop from place to place, you switch between things so fast. I understand you’re curious about everything, but don’t hurry to explore this world. Hang around in one place until you know it inch by inch, then move on. There’s a chance we’re never getting out of here”.

You looked at how the light was changing, and his pale face was the canvas. He never got tanned, no matter how much time you were spending on the beach. Sometimes he’d get a bit darker by the night, but you barely caught that.

The hollow, heavy wail of the sky was growing louder in your head.

“You seem completely fine with it”, you mused. Kai froze for a second, like a rabbit, and then continued to work.

“Not gonna lie”, he shrugged.

“What you’re suggesting is”, you downed your soda can and threw it away down the street. This one was a bit tilted, and you both watched the can roll a little. Or, rather, listened.

“Becoming the human GIF picture in slow motion”.

“Exactly. Your mind is racing now, you’ve only been here, what, eight months? But we’ll synchronize”, he murmured as he pushed the drive, and it clicked. Kai held the ramp of the bike in between his knees. He then spun one wheel and looked at it.

“Life feels very long that way”.

He finished with the bicycle and ran into the house to wash his hands. He changed the shirt and hopped out with his own skateboard under his arm. The sun was almost down.

“Let’s go?”

You have finally mastered the whole skating thing. The major issue was feeling stable and safe on these four little wheels constantly trying to tilt you off on the ground. Now you were in control of the balance, and had no difficulty riding for pleasure.

You went down the King Street, passing by the low broken down houses of the locals of Honolulu. All the rich houses were there on the North Shore, where you slept. Here was the feeling of that long life.

You held his hand as you slid down the street quietly, without a word, only the hissing of the boards on the asphalt. You looked at the clouds and the sky, the fluff of the palm tree tops, and thought about the one foot world.

The line of the ocean was glowing far on the left with dark gold. The gigantic disk of the sun was sinking in the Pacific.

You felt like you were painlessly dying on the inside, and held his hand as it guided you, as you were taking in all this beauty around. Until you know the place inch by inch

Something about his words didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t figure out what.

Al the knowledge meant nothing perhaps?

You looked at Kai and how perfectly he fit in here, a part of this world, a part of this air and this evening.

You let go of his hand, squeezing his fingers lightly, and pushed yourself forward and a little bit on the left, towards somebody’s parked truck with a stack of steel rods tied up in the open box. Kai didn’t have time to steer after you, you were like a bullet. The stillness of the street was broken by the sharp crach of your bones as you imapled yourself on the rods. The bloody pink sprayed into the sky, or so it felt, when the dozen of hard, stainless swords went right through your body. At the last moment you thought that maybe you shouldn’t have; but you didn’t slow down. The acceleration threw you on, and the zombie board rolled on under the truck safely and showed up on the other side, quietly continuing its journey.

You gasped, as all air got knocked out of you. So far, it was the most pain you’ve had here.

Shit, you should never do that, just for the record.

Kai threw the board away and ran to you, standing behind your back, as you started wiggling on the rods like a frog on a fork.

“Shit”, he muttered. You heard his quiet voice behind your ear as your eyes rolled down with pain, your own sounds completely vanquished by the blinding white agony in your chest.

Kai managed to peel you off them, and you finally groaned, which was more like a wheeze. Your body and brain were going numb.

He sat on the ground; you saw his confused and slightly irritated face above you, with the unmistakable background of the hawaiian sky. You saw the clouds, drifting hurriedly off the dome, for he night, and recalled how you believed they can be touched, when you were a child. How shameful it is that we can never get what we want, you thought, out of nowhere. As if it was too much to ask, to touch the clouds. They always look so wholesome and the perfect pastel color. You used to dream about jumping from cloud to cloud like they were boucing castles.

“This must hurt”, Kai said, “you should’ve asked me”.

Yes, you should have. Your neck twitched, feeling escaping from your limbs. You heard your own blood drip from your sides on the asphalt, and Kai’s hard knee under your back. The pain was slowly fading away, and so you tried to make him look up and somehow let him know what you’re thinking about: how cool it would be, to bounce from cloud to cloud? It wouldn’t be much better in the outside world; the clouds are absolutely off the limits there. The feeling of doom was now buried in your mind, six feet deep, as you thought,

I’m not worried at all.

You decided that as soon as you wake up, you will kiss him the way you’ve never kissed him before, so that it means something. Kai Parker has finally become the person you relied on the most in this world.

[hyunjilicious]

Kaer Morhen. Geralt of Rivia imagine

A/n: This contains 0 spoilers for the TV shows. However, it contains mentions of smut and violence. Also a tad bit of angst.

Summary: Geralt and y/n and a few others prepare for a battle. Losing Yn is one of his biggest fears, and tried to do everything in his power to make sure that won’t happen. 3.7k

Warning: i was too lazy to edit. i will tho, soon. Tell me what you thought please!!! I loved writing it and i love hearing your opinions!

-

"And what happens if the shield falls?" Triss asked, roaming around the room with her arms crossed, carefully studying you up and down.

"The shield won't fall unless I do" you spoke with confidence, dead set on doing everything in your power to keep the castle, Ciri and everyone else involved, safe.

"Then, no" Geralt commanded, pushing himself off the wall, "No way we're doing it this way"

"It's already settled" you countered, knowing that was the only way you could help. Even as one of the most powerful sorceress the Continent has ever seen, with elven blood running through your veins, in combat, you were still a weak link. You needed space, and safety to recover your stamina, so standing on top of an isolated tower and casting spells from there was the best option.

"Nothing's settled" Geralt huffed, "There's no telling how long the fight will last or how strong their army will be, you can't keep that shield up on your own"

"I can" you said with confidence, "And I will"

With that you stormed off. After years of going through this on again off again wannabe relationship, Geralt knew better than to bug you when you clearly wanted to be left alone. The night was done, yet he decided he'd get a head start of the roof work that was scheduled for the next morning, as something about your attitude was obviously making him rather uncomfortable. You stood in front of your bedroom window, projecting his image on the glass in front of you. Dangerously close to the edge, he made his way tile by tile across the roof, and despite noticeably giving his best, he failed at giving the structure the stability it needed. You chuckled, a silent sigh also escaping your lips - you wished he was inside the castle, in the same room as you - yet your pride didn't let you admit it, even to yourself. His raspy grunt reached your ears, and it wasn't from your projection - he had realized on his own that he did a piss poor job, and shouldn't have even tried to being with. Seeing as he would soon be making his way inside, you killed the spell and moved to your bed.

When Geralt passed through the door, you looked up from a book you had just opened, "Nice of you to finally join me"

"Y/n" he sighed, unbuttoning his black shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, "I-"

"Yes, yes" you cut him off, "You're mad at me, but to be completely honest with you-"

"I'm not mad!" he yelled, voice all hoarse, proving his words wrong. He walked to the foot of the bed and leaned on one of his legs, "I'm not mad" he corrected himself, this time on a much more reasonable tone, "It's just that I get the feeling this is a sacrifice"

"If it means it will keep Ciri alive and far away from The Wild Hunt, then call it whatever you want"

"You love her, don't you?" he asked, for the first time in days, avoiding your stare. However, he did it for you. He knew how much it would take for you to admit such a thing, even to him. He kept looking away, willingly giving you the upper hand and allowing you to believe you were strong enough to face him. After all these years, you still came first, no matter what.

"Geralt-" you sighed, the pain in the pit of your stomach making your voice sound weaker, "I-"

"Decades ago-" he cut you off, "When we first met, everyone said you were power driven and ruthless, when all you wanted was a child. All this time-" he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "I thought you gave that up"

"I never give up" you said, clearing your throat. Tears were coating your eyes, but no matter how much a weakness sign you considered it, you didn't turn away, "Let alone on a child. Especially Ciri"

"Y/n" Geralt said softly, grabbing your elbow, "We can still find other ways"

Not at him, but you were angry. The situation, and especially the wait, the calm before the storm, were driving you crazy, and with controlling your emotions, you never had a good history. "I don't care who comes, however many mages they may have, how big their army is or how revolutionary their weapons are, if they can do it, so can I. I'm not gonna grab a sword and try my luck, or cast spells in the middle of the field, it's a sure way for me to die. I will do everything I can to keep this castle and everyone inside it safe, and no one can stop me"

With that you walked past him, and opened the door, "Now come, Lambert and Eskel promised us some extravagant Toussaint wine and they're waiting downstairs"

Geralt followed you without fighting back this time. You were all expecting to have at least two days until the fight, so whether he did actually give up and accepted the fact that you were going to have your way, or if he just decided to post pone the argument, was above you, and to be fair, at that hour, you didn't even care. You all drank, and had a good time, well, as good as the times allowed. There was a strange atmosphere in the air, giving the impression that you all sat down to make sure no one would be taken away without a proper goodbye. None of you would have admitted it, but you were all thinking it. Crach an craite turned out to be the soul of the gathering, Dijkstra's never ending stories seemed much more appealing after a few glasses of wine, and at about 5am, almost everyone was back in their rooms, sleeping or making up for lost time.

Earlier that evening, you had no intention of joining the others in drinking, you wanted Geralt all to yourself but after the talk you had, you needed some space. However, the alcohol washed out the bad taste his words left in your mouth, and now, as you two found yourselves all alone in your shared bedroom, your initial intentions were starting to show again. He welcomed your lips against his with longing desire, holding onto your waist harder than you would have normally accepted. Your weight was as none in his hold, and he carried you effortlessly to bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you. His muscular body towered over your fragile frame, and as always, having him wrapped around your finger aroused you to no end. There wasn't time to waste on foreplay, even if you were sure he enjoyed it as much you did. Geralt lewdly hurried to explore the skin your black leather attire showed, dragging his lips along your collarbones, before biting down into your shoulder, for the sole purpose of hearing your moans.

"Geralt" you sighed, grabbing the sides of his face so you could look into his eyes.

His teeth sank deeper, making your cry out his name again.

You felt his chuckle tickle the skin at the base of you neck, just before he looked up, "You're so beautiful" he said in awe.

Wanting to keep your composure, you controlled your facial expression, but your cheeks still reddened. The smile that materialized onto his lips proved that he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. When your lips connected, it felt more electrifying than ever. Unlike times before, you allowed him to take full control. Geralt didn't question it at all, but you knew he sensed something.

Everytime it was you on top of him, riding his cock into the depths of the night as his longing stare burned your skin. It was always you the one who pushed his buttons and never allowed him to finish whenever he needed. You always had to push him, even just the tiniest bit. You rarely ever did what he asked you without making him beg for it. You saw him on his knees in front of you, calling your name in what was probably the most needy tone he was capable of. The sight of him squirming under you, with his eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, fists clenched and thighs convulsing, was your favourite of them all. However tonight it was quite the opposite. He had you on all fours, crying out his name. He kissed away the tears of pleasure that ran down your temple, and smiled proudly when you, for the first time begged him to let you finish. Three times. That night was all about what he wanted; he loved you in all the right ways, sending you on pleasure spirals with every chance he got. After ruining the sheets while he went down on you, lapping away at your core, you clenched your thighs on each side of his head in some pathetic attempt to control yourself. With a smirk, Geralt's lips moved from your clit to the skin of your left inner thigh, leaving inflamed purple marks all over your warm skin. When it came to the second orgasm, he had you panting on all fours as he clutched a fistful of your hair into his hand, pulling your head back. His lips treated the your shoulders and neck in all the right ways as he pounded deeply into you from behind. Your moans decorated the night, and it ended with another round, this one slower and more passionate than anything before. He was laying on top of you, moving every so gently against your now sensitive body. When his lips weren't longingly loving yours, his cheek was pressed against yours, his breath fanning onto your ear.

After that, after you both came down from the heights of pleasure he worked so hard for, you just collapsed into each other, and tried to get some sleep, "I love you, Y/n" Geralt said, right before dozing off.

"And I love you" you answered, with deep honesty.

You would have never admitted it to him, but as you both laid in bed, you realised this sudden change of character was coming from your hidden fear of not ever seeing him again after the battle that was to come. As he feel alseep with his face tucked deeply into your neck, you knew he was thinking just the same. Your mind didn't allow you to rest without taking a quick peek at his thoughts, and the taste of blood engulfed your senses as you bit your lower lip in order to stop yourself from crying. A small cottage, quite poor and mostly empty, with a strong fire lighting up the main room was what you saw first. Then you saw yourself. And him. Snuggled into each other in a dark corner, sleeping, and with definetly less worried looks on your faces than you had now. You couldn't pull away from his thoughts just yet, you kept watching as Ciri with Vesemir came moments later. The four of you sat down at a table, eating ridiculously festive food. Geralt's left hand was on your thigh, and when he kissed you, even if it was just a dream, he imagined you tasted like garlic. That thought alone watered your eyes. Back when you two had just met, in unknown circumstances, you mentioned to him that you couldn't expect people to take you seriously if you smelled like garlic, despite it being one of your biggest pleasures. At that time, he laughed it off, kissed your lips and with a shake of his head, continued the conversation. Never again had you two talked about this, or had you eaten garlic, yet this was on his mind right now. Damn him. You didn't want to die. You lived a long life and achieved more than most people could even dream of, but for Geralt and Ciri, you wanted to live.

-

You stormed down the stairs of the castle, screaming at the top of your lungs, "They're coming! Everyone wake up!"

In a matter of seconds everyone rushed downstairs, strapping their swords and getting ready for a fight you were most likely destined to lose. Ciri's life was at stake, and none of you was willing to back down. Previously, you had pondered, and came up with the best defence strategy.

"Remember," you said, facing each of your allies in turn "Aldair albeeh mirva. Anything happens and you need help, chant this"

Shortly after revising the plan, everyone went to their spots, waiting for the attack, while you rushed to the tower. Knowing the Wild Hunt wouldn't come rushing towards you from a distance, you counted on a locating spell, that even though couldn't pin point their exact location, was able to let you know how close they were. When crystals of ice appeared in the air around you and you were able to see your breath due to the drop in temperature, you put up the first shield. This was the easy part, keeping the frost away. Now, you gathered all your power, and worked on locking a second shield, one that was designed to force the armies to come in in waves, giving your people time to fight them off without getting surrounded.

Struggling with this task, there wasn't anything more that you could do. It was draining your powers at an alarming rate, but you were dead set on keeping the shields up until you could no more. The fight went on for almost two exhausting hours, there was no way for you to know if everyone was alright and no way to stop and check. Everything around you was a blur, the sound of the fight going on below you was muffled as you concentrated every inch in your body to make sure your defence wasn't cracking. Despite being all in, body and soul, you still heard it.

"Aldair albeeh mirva"

Fuck. It was Eskel's voice. As you tried to figure out his exact location, you heard it again.

"Aldair albeeh mirva"

And again. And again and again. Muffled. Unclear, and screamed by different voices. Triss, Keira, Dijkstra, Geralt. They were all losing their battles.

-

"Um, Geralt?" Lambert huffed as the two of them fought side by side, "Is Y/n ok?"

"Why?" Geralt called with exasperation, turning to his fellow witcher, "What happened?"

"Look around you, man" he wailed, pointing to the sky, "The force shield is down. We're surrounded"

They retracted to a more isolated corner, speaking to each other just above a whisper, "We called for her, she knows what she's doing!" Geralt said and despite not showing much emotion, he said it more to convince himself than his friend.

"Brother, she didn't answer" Lambert spoke dramatically, breathing heavily. Silence settled as he didn't want to say anything more, afraid he'd set Geralt off. He was too late. In a fit of manic rage, Geralt sprung forward, rushing straight into the battle.

"Cover my back" he yelled over his shoulder, "I'm heading to the tower"

Eskel sighed knowing how bad of an idea it was, but after shaking his head, he drew his sword, ready to jump back into the action. They were surrounded, casting signs after signs, their stamina running out and muscles starting to cave. With every passing moment and with each of the wild hunt's knights killed, they were closer and closer to caving. Their blows weren't as precise anymore, not as strong, and nowhere near efficient enough to keep up with the enemy's army. Following a heavy blow into the small of his back, Geralt fell to the ground, sword slipping out of his hand and landing meters away. Before he managed to regain his composure, Eskel threw himself on top of him, and generated a shield, held in place by the sign of Quen, strong enough to keep them alive for just about 30 more short seconds. Each blow received weakened their defence, and once Eskel couldn't hold the shield anymore, it exploded with a blast, throwing the knights and their hounds just a few steps behind. It was no where near enough. All this stunt did was buy them about a minute more, as before they knew it, their throats were surrounded by countless of sharp sword tips. Incapable of feeling emotions, Geralt's eyes still watered, Ciri's and Y/n's faces being the only thing on his mind. Realizing there was no way out, he gritted his teeth, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes were the merciless fangs of a ghostly hound, jumping towards his jugular at full speed.

Then nothing.

Nothing happened. Nothing bit him. No blade pierced his body, and filled with confusion, he creaked his eyes open only for his jaw to drop. The hundreds of fighters that were surrounding them were now hanging in the air, slowly rising to the sky.

"What the fuck-" Eskel muttered, turning from side to side.

Geralt paid no attention to him, and in the distance, between the floating bodies of his enemies, he spotted Y/n, high up in the air. With her head thrown back and arms raised horizontally, she levitated about 10 meters above the sea of still warm corpses. Her fingers moved slowly within a ball of purple gas. Geralt was too far away to see, but her veins pumped rage and chaos forming little sparks of fire all around her frame - her lifting the soldiers off the battlefield being just the beginning. Looking to the side, it wasn't hard for him to spot his allies.

Keira was in a trance, on top of the castle's wall. Before Geralt got a chance to rush to her, Triss came running, ushering everyone inside, "Shelter, now!!" she screamed, voice cracking.

"Y/n?" Dijkstra who had just joined them asked.

"Yes" approved Geralt, "And Keira. We can't leave them"

Triss was in no way in the mood for their antics, "She's gonna burn them to ashes and we're gonna fucking die too if we don't move! And now!"

Somewhat relieved, Geralt, along with every other still standing member of their group, ran into the castle. "Are we even safe here? And Keira?" he asked.

After catching her breath, Triss looked at everyone in turn and explained, "Keira is keeping the frost away so y/n's spell won't be as difficult to cast. And yes.." she sighed, "We're safe here, y/n will redirect the flames upwards"

He didn't like this. Not one freaking bit. Rushing to the window, he saw y/n now fully surrounded by that violet gas. Every piece of glass in the castle was trembling, the floor shaking as bits of cement and stone were falling from each of the corners of the room. He wanted to object but he knew going out there was not an option. After a few difficult breaths, everything before his eyes went white. Everyone was thrown off their feet as a loud explosion pushed them meters back, all slamming into the walls behind them. Nothing was audible except for a loud plain ringing deep inside his ears. Geralt found himself literally paralyzed for what he thought were a few seconds, but as soon as he found himself able to stand, he rushed outside. It was now way past dusk, meaning he'd been out for at least a few hours. Once again, and harder this time, panic enveloped him tightly.

Outside, grass was no more. The walls were black with ashes, with Keira standing in front of them, her back towards the castle.

Geralt stepped over burnt corpses, making his way to her. As the sorceress heard him approach, she turned to him, face white and a few too many layers of unshed tears covering her eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. "She's gone"

-

Heavily bleeding, your feet trembled one in front of the other, carrying your weight the last thousand of feet before reaching the nearest location you could only hope was safe. Around you, laid a deserted village at the foot of the Baarg mountain. At this point you couldn't afford being wrong, so you trusted your gut and walked through a gap in a fence, circled around the cemetery, and followed a path that led you to an empty cave. You sighed with relief, and felt a tear roll down your cheek as you pushed through the darkness, using the last bits of magic left in your body to light up a torch you found laying around. Tens of years ago, this cave used to belong to an elven mage, the only one in history to ever manage to control not only space, but also time. His legacy was so infamous and controversial, that his names was banned from use. This however, didn't stop tens of hopeful magic creatures from trying to learn his ways. It relieved you to no end to see that no one had actually reached this point. Having a story this famous; errors and fake facts were destined to be spread. If not for Geralt and his many connections, you wouldn't have known about this place either.

The entrance to the deeper levels of the cave was guarded by a pack of rock trolls, which took very little magical effort to convince to obey you.

"If any one comes looking for the elf's cave, this isn't the right one. If any one comes looking for me, I'm not here unless Geralt of Rivia asks. Geralt of Rivia, in flesh and bones, not anyone else" 

“Trolly knows, this cave not good”, the creature groaned, "Geralt of Rivia good. Everyone else bad. Trolly likes not if you not Geralt are"

"Perfect" you sighed, and walked further into the cave. Seconds later, you had made it. All the knowledge you ever needed was inside there. Every potion, herb, recipe, crystal or spell book, everything was at arm's length. As soon as the door slammed behind you, you fell to your knees and crashed onto the floor. After 13 days of walking through dangerous unknown woods on the exact other side of the continent, you were happy to finally close your eyes within safety.

[elderbloodlore]

Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS? 

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS 

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often: 

 “As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny. 

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal. 

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong. 

THE DEMEANOR 

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...]  'Hochebuz,'  said Calante, looking at Geralt,  'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.'  The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE 

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves: 

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said: 

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT 

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH 

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had: 

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride. 

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH 

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe: 

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as: 

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories. 

[lwiamatkaarchive]

calanthe’s witcher 3 plotline: (to be continued as i play the games)

includes possible romance with geralt. y’all already know i ship it anyway. 

velen: 

- geralt meets calanthe in velen, after some villagers mistakingly pointed him towards her when he asked for an ashen-haired woman. he meets her after baron, but before keira. they talk, he learns of what happened to her while he thought she was dead and she learns that ciri is alive, but in danger.

- he tells calanthe of a witch ciri quarreled with, calanthe agrees to help him

- together, they meet up with keira, who tells them about the mysterious elf 

- they agree to help keira, and without her head to the old elven ruins 

- they fight with the wild hunt there, geralt learns of calanthe’s elder blood, that she learned how to use it and that it is as potent as ciri’s and the wild hunt might want her, too

- they find avallac’h’s lab, calanthe recognises lara dorren as her ancestor and finds the altar he built for her quite disturbing 

- after they are done, calanthe leaves geralt to his own devices to continue with keira’s questline and other quests in velen, with geralt’s promise that he will contact her as soon as he learns something (optional). after that, she can be found in a tavern in velen. 

novigrad: 

- if geralt decides to go to calanthe after finishing velen plotline, she agrees to go with him to novigrad, another place where ciri was seen (though she makes it clear it’s the opposite way of where she was originally headed). she accompanies him to rosemary and thyme. that is where she can be found most of the time, accompanied by zoltan who, despite calanthe’s protest, promised geralt to have an eye on her. she decides to stay incognito in the city.

- calanthe’s input during the novigrad plotline is small. she can have an impact on the way priscilla’s play is shown, and listening to her advice about how duny’s and pavetta’s story was not one of true love, we get the best outcome from the crowd while still helping find dudu. 

- calanthe can be talked to at any point of the plot in rosemary and thyme, she gives her insight on the things geralt learned about ciri. in this time, she deveops a friendship with zoltan, who teaches her how to play gwent. (eventually, a unique card can be won from her) 

- after geralt helps triss saving the sorcerers of novigrad, he can once again, optionally, tell calanthe what he learned about ciri and say he is going to skellige. if he offers her to come along, she reluctantly agrees. 

skellige: 

this is the part of the plot where calanthe plays the biggest role, if geralt decides to bring her along. 

- calanthe and geralt together meet yennefer at bran’s funeral. calanthe explains that she is saddened by his death, seeing as he was her brother-in-law. during the funeral, mousesack notices her in the crowd and recognises her immediately. so does crach, who to greet her kneels before her and adresses her as modron. the funeral feast for bran’s death is also a reason to celebrate the lioness’ return.

- after the funeral, calanthe can be talked to and geralt can ask her about her exact connections with crach and mousesack, if the player isn’t familiar with the books. she explains how crach is her late husband’s nephew, how skellige and cintra were once in a close friendship and how mousesack was her advisor. this is the first time she mentions her guilt over surviving the fall of cintra. 

- for the feast, geralt can choose to wear black, as instructed by yennefer, not change his clothes, or wear something with a green accent. 

- during the feast calanthe is met with cerys, who reveals to her her plans to become queen, which calanthe heavily supports. yennefer reveals to them her plans of stealing the mask of ourobors from mousesack. calanthe voices her displeasure with this plan. geralt can choose to go along with yennefer, at which point the plot goes as it does canonically, or agree with calanthe. if geralt chooses to side with calanthe, they speak to mousesack openly and the druid, unable to refuse her, allows them to take the mask, but they found yennefer had already stolen it on her own. 

- whether geralt chose to help yennefer or go along with calanthe, the quest brings him to the place of the anomaly in the forest. yennefer is already there, arguing with mousesack. as calanthe and geralt speak with the druid, yennefer sneaks away and uses the mask. once trhe mask is activated, calanthe agrees that there is no other choice but to proceed with it, but she is clearly annoyed with the sorceress and her methods. 

- after searching the anomaly, calanthe goes along with yennefer and geralt to the larvik village, where the wild hunt was seen. calanthe opposes the use of the garden’s power to bring back skjall and speak to him and instead offers herself as the source yennefer can take from. if geralt agrees, calanthe is weakened but the garden is saved. if he denies, the garden dies out like in canon. 

- the last wish quest takes place here. geralt goes along with yennefer to help her break the last wish. if he tells her he doesn’t want to be with her anymore, her romance path is closed and calanthe’s romance path opens. 

- as they find out about uma, geralt goes to retrieve him from velen, and calanthe goes along with yennefer to kaer morhen to help undo the curse. 

SIDE NOTE:

- in the hjalmar vs cerys storyline calanthe stands with cerys. she sees through birna with whom she was nver friendly and knows right away that the bears could not have been an craite’s fault. 

kaer morhen: 

- calanthe is always in kaer morhen! even if the player chose to not bring her along to novigrad and/or skellige. she voices her frustration over feeling useless. everyone is given a task to complete, except for her. she tries to help with uma, but has no knowledge nor abilities to help break the curse. she is worried that it might be ciri, and as uma is being put through the trial of grasses, she walks out, disturbed and disgusted, unable to watch. 

- after uma is turned back into avallac’h and the plan of the battle of kaer morhen is born, calanthe offers to go with geralt to the isle of mists, but he refuses, promising to bring ciri to her unharmed. 

battle of kaer morhen: 

- as ciri is brought back, calanthe greets her with a hug and a wholesome reunion ensues. if geralt refused to continue romance with yennefer, spoke to calanthe many times and took her along through the game, he can receive a kiss from her as a thank you. they speak about their past, but are interruped by triss. the kiss is unavailable if the player recruited help from and/or spoke to emhyr.

- the plans are made according to the game, but the sorceresses act suspicious. they say they have a plan of their own, a circle drawn in the main courtyard of the fortress where they tell everyone to meet rif things get dire.

- the battle of kaer morhen goes as in canon, until the party is forced to back all the way bto the main courtyard. once everyone makes it to the circle, triss, yennefer and (optionally) keira create a barrier. ciri is the one to voice that her grandmother isn’t there. 

- a cutscene starts. calanthe stands in the middle of the courtyard, outside the barrier, despite ciri yelling for her to come. the warriors of the wild hunt approach her and surround her and as they reach for her, she explodes in an elder blood scream. everyone is blinded by it, but unlike ciri, whose cry is just a nova of force that pulls everything towards it, calanthe’s scream is fire that burns the forest around the fortress and even starts to melt the stones it is made of. imlerith, ereding and caranthir make it out through a portal in the last second, but a big portion of their forces is decimated. finally, avallac’h uses magic to stop calanthe’s outburst. if the player did recruit keira, nobody gets hurt. if keira wasn’t recruited, triss dies, having used too much power to hold the barrier against calanthe’s elder blood and save everyone from its impact. 

uniting the lodge: 

- after the battle, ciri is found sitting by calanthe as she is unconscious. avallac’h promises that she is not dead, but will require a lot of rest, and that he will keep her stable. yennefer reveals to geralt his plan of using calanthe as a weapon against the wild hunt. geralt can answer with anger or understanding. if he answers with anger, so does ciri, saying that her grandmother is not a weapon and she almost lost her again. if geralt agrees with yennefer that the plan was good, ciri gets upset with him as well and storms off.

- the sorceresses (or just yennefer) go to unite the lodge to help fight the wild hunt, while avallac’h takes care of calanthe. they are meant to meet in novigrad, but ciri wakes geralt up early in the morning to go to sabbath. fights against the crones and imlerith happen. 

- after the boss fight, geralt and ciri together go to novigrad and in the chameleon find avallac’h and calanthe who, still weakened, scolds them for going alone. optionally, also triss. if triss survived the battle of kaer morhen, her plotline doesn’t change. if she didn’t, keira takes hr place. if keira did nbot survive, geralt has to first help yennefer find margarita and only then will be able to help philippa. 

- after geralt solves all the quests, helping philippa, margarita, avallac’h and ciri, a quest from calanthe is available. when geralt enters her room, he sees that she is already up and dressed. he can voice his concern over her, if she is well enough to walk, but she laughs it off. 

she confesses to him that she knows one more person who could help them fight the wild hunt. it was the sorceress who saved her from the burning cintra. to find her, they have to go to garramone, deep in old temeria, now within the bounds of the empire. on their way there, they get to talk. 

depending on the player’s choices, this is the point at which geralt can confess his love to calanthe, but only if he rejcted the romance with yennefer during the last wish quest. if he does it, they kiss and carry on their journey. 

the woman calanthe has been speaking about turns out to be adalia the seer, calanthe’s mother. depending on player’s choices, adalia may join them, but it is clear that her intentions ar not pure and that she will want something in return. 

after the encounter with adalia, if the player chose to not recruit her help AND chose to go along with the romance with calanthe, a romance cutscene starts, with them making love in the middle of the forest, by the fire. 

battle of kaer trolde:

- before the battle, calanthe is the one to accompany geralt and ciri to go to avallac’h’s laboratory. she immediately recognises the family tree and if the player decides to let ciri destroy the laboratory, she is very onboard with it. after that, she lets ciri and geralt go to make a grave for skjall, if that is the player’s choice, while herself returning to the port

- calanthe does participate in the battle of kaer trolde. she heavily dislikes nilfgaard’s involvement and swears that after ciri is safe, she will personally get nilfgaardians out of cintra and skellige.  she fights alongside hjalmar and crach and when crach dies, she cries and mourns his death, causing eredin to almost get to her before the boss battle starts with geralt saving her in the last second 

- after geralt saves calanthe from eredin, they learn of avallac’h’s betrayal and the gate to the casm to the other worlds open. calanthe is the one who escorts geralt to the top of the mountain and makes the hole in avallac’h’s barrier. sadly, she cannot open it for long enough to accompany him. 

endings: 

ciri is witcher ending

if ciri survives but doesn’t choose to become an empress, if geralt chose to romance calanthe, they live together quietly in kaer morhen, taking in children, orphans and those that were abandoned, but not to mutate them. rather to teach them how to survive in the world on their own. iif geralt did not romance calanthe, she lets her presence known to the world, gathers around herself a sizeable army of people ready to follow the lioness and pushes nilfgaard back past yaruga. 

ciri is empress ending

if ciri survives and becomes an empress (by killing emhyr, nto working for him) calanthe becomes her advisor and works with her from the shadow to make the new cintra as bright as the old one was

ciri is dead ending 

if ciri dies, the player gets a cutscene where geralt comes down the mountain and tells calanthe what happens. she loses control, her power wipes out all the nilfgaardian ships and the castle in which the gate has opened, sealing it shut forever and burying avallac’h under the rubble. calanthe uses so much power that she dies in the process.

DLC AND OTHER SIDE QUESTS COMING AS I FINISH PLAYING THE GAME.

[marvellouslymadmim]

Hi!! I was wondering what your headcanons were about Calanthe after she loses Pavetta? Also do you have any plans to write a fic featuring Calanthe x Eist after Pavetta dies (whether it be in A Night With the Queen or otherwise)? I love your writing so much (I’ve reread every fic you have for them about 5 times each) and I’m curious about your take on Calanthe’s grief. I do love to feel pain 😭

oof. I have a few. And yes, we’re gonna see some of it in A Night with the Queen. But due to that story’s format, we won’t be able to go as in-depth as my actual headcanons are, so here we go:

I feel like Calanthe is someone who does two things when she is hit with a loss: instantly lash out at everyone around her (banquet scene, anyone?), and then immediately internalize it and blame herself for everything she didn’t do to prevent the situation. She’s used to getting her way (I mean, it’s canon that she was a spoiled child, and we definitely still see that she’s politically powerful enough to very rarely hear “no” by the time she’s ard rhena), and I think sometimes she truly has bought into her own mythos as the Lioness of Hochebuz--she was a child who triumphed over an army, and I think part of her believes in her own invincibility and therefore her own ability to truly make anything and everything go her way, regardless of the odds. So when things don’t go her way, it isn’t because they never could--but rather because she didn’t try hard enough. 

So when Pavetta is lost at sea, Calanthe does both of those things. In Blood of Elves, we see in a flashback from Ciri’s POV that Calanthe definitely lashed out at Crach (and most likely Eist, once he returned from searching) for ever allowing Pavetta to leave the isles with Duny. The book also talks of Eist’s “stony, pale face. And the queen’s silence.” So...definitely things were happening there. I think that after Calanthe blamed Crach and Eist for allowing Pavetta to go out to sea, she began blaming herself for not preventing it--for allowing Pavetta to travel to Skellige, for not searching long enough and hard enough for her afterwards, for not eventually bringing Pavetta’s body back home to rest.

In A Night with the Queen, we’re gonna see Calanthe becoming obsessed with the idea that until they find a body, there’s still a chance that Pavetta is alive. Because her daughter is powerful beyond anything anyone has ever seen--she can create her own tempest, so what could a tempest do to her, truly? She constantly pushes Eist to keep looking, to keep sending out search parties farther and farther away from the wreckage site, still convinced that Pavetta washed ashore, completely unharmed, and is merely waiting to be found and brought home. 

I think it takes a while for Calanthe to truly admit that her daughter is gone forever. And I think when she does, it creates a new grief spiral as she accepts it. That is the moment that she truly turns inward and shuts out the rest of the world.

As someone who, unfortunately, is very deeply acquainted with grief and loss, I can tell you that grieving is an extremely private process and even if you share a loss with someone, the journey of your grief is entirely solo. You heal at different rates, in different ways. You heal...apart, in a way. And then you have to figure out how to grow back inwards, together again. I think Eist and Calanthe grew apart in their grief and then did have to make a conscious decision to turn back into each other, to find and give comfort as a team. 

I think in the beginning, Calanthe is very unaware of how it affects Eist. She’s too wrapped up in her own grief and definitely relies on his support even as she pushes him away and continues lashing out. Ciri is definitely the main reason that she doesn’t freeze him out entirely during this time--just as she fixates on bringing Pavetta back, she obsesses over Ciri’s wellbeing to deflect from dealing with her own issues. 

And I think she uses Cirilla as a shield, too. Constantly puts their granddaughter between her and Eist to avoid dealing with the growing gulf between them. Ciri has always spent a lot of time with her grandparents, but after Pavetta’s death, Calanthe keeps Ciri at her side at all times. For months, Ciri sleeps with them, and stays within Calanthe’s line of sight during her every waking moment. Eist misses having time to simply be with his wife and his best friend, but of course, how can he say anything when it’s for the wellbeing of their granddaughter, who just tragically lost her mother? And how can he say anything when Ciri obviously brings Calanthe comfort in turn?

Once Calanthe does realize that Eist has also experienced loss, and that he’s spent his time trying to take care of her, rather than deal with his own grief, a shift occurs. She acknowledges the burden she’s put on him and becomes apologetic--and from there, they gingerly and slowly start to move forward, together. Ultimately, I think it’s what strengthens their relationship past everything they were before. Because Calanthe recognizes that she has pushed him in ways that would cause most people to abandon her, and yet he stayed. I think that given her first marriage, she always kind of assumed that there was a chance things might fall apart between her and Eist--but when the worst possible thing imaginable happens and they survive it, she abandons all thought of them ever truly being separated, emotionally or physically. (and honestly, it makes her little Tommen toodley-boop out the window more understandable, too--because she doesn’t want to be in a world without him, because he’s been one of the only people who has ever seen her and made the world bearable....she’s done what she could to correct her folly with Geralt and has sent Ciri into safety, and now all she wants is to be with Eist again) After that, she truly becomes the all-in, completely devoted and adoring lover that we see in her final scenes with Eist. They understand and see each other on a level that no one else ever has or will, at that point, and they’re both highly aware of it--and eventually, they find a way to see it as something to relish and celebrate. 

As the years wear on and the grief become less startlingly painful, I think Calanthe is able to find comfort in seeing Cirilla become so much like her mother. We see there’s a stark difference in how Calanthe reigns/presents herself as queen between the time of the betrothal feast and the sacking of Cintra. I think some of it is due to the fact that Calanthe genuinely tries to be more of the influence that Pavetta would have been on her daughter. And she tries to honor Pavetta’s legacy by teaching Ciri in a kinder, softer way than she taught Pavetta. She tries to raise Cirilla not according to her own ideals (most of the time, at least)--but rather what she thinks Pavetta would have wanted. 

Ok, I feel like I’ve rambled enough for one post...thank you so much for dragging me down the headcanon rabbit hole (and for re-reading my fics, the thought brings such joy!) and hopefully we’ll actually get to see some of this come up in future fics. 

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Be Careful of What Lurks in the Dark

Did I get restless writing the chapter fic because I really wanted to post something and then write this in under an hour and didn’t edit it because I really wanted to post something? Yes, yes I did. Also, there are characters from the Witcher 3 game in this, but they’re not like,,,, a big deal at all so it doesn’t matter much, I just know a lot of my readers only know the show. They’re more just mentioned in the background lol. 

But for reference: Cerys and Hjalmar are siblings and their dad is named Crach an Craite and they’re from Skellige

Edit PS: Ciri and Cerys were 100% like “go distract Geralt for us” and that was the best Jaskier could come up with on short notice lol

Word Count: 1018 words

Summary: Geralt hadn't exactly been excited to be dragged off to laser tag, but that didn't mean he wasn't at least going to try. At least, that was the case, until Jaskier decided to play a dirty trick on him.

[ao3 link]

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

Laser tag was not Geralt’s first choice for how to spend his afternoon.

Unfortunately for him, Jaskier and Ciri both had very convincing puppy-dog eyes, and Geralt was a weak-willed man. Was he meant to be able to say no to those faces? Geralt didn’t see how anyone could, and it further proved his theory that Yennefer was somehow magic, seeing as she seemed to be immune to Ciri’s tactics.

Either way, now Geralt was in a dark, humid room ducking behind corners and trying not to lose to a gaggle of children. Granted, Jaskier was also a very good shot, but unlike the kids, he didn’t seem to be trying nearly as hard.

Probably because he’d gotten the dream team of Cerys and Ciri being elected as an honorary “girl” for their girl power team. The two together were unbeatable, combining Cerys’ smarts and Ciri’s determination. Meanwhile, Geralt had been paired with Dara and Hjalmar. 

The boys may have been older and bigger, but they didn’t know how to work as a team. Hjalmar had a tendency to act before he thought, and Dara had a tendency to do the exact opposite. As a result, both boys ended up getting frustrated and running off to do their own thing instead of making a game plan.

Which left Geralt to crouch behind corners that glowed neon under the blacklights and hoping that one of his boys managed to snatch the flag when the girls and Jaskier weren’t looking. At least he was getting some pretty good shots in, pecking off Ciri and Cerys both whenever he saw them. He got furious pouts (Ciri) and swears for revenge (Cerys) everytime, of course, but he wasn’t deterred.

They wanted to play laser tag? Geralt was going to play laser tag.

He hadn’t managed to shoot Jaskier, yet. He didn’t even know where Jaskier was, he hadn’t seen him once since the game started. Even after sneaking circles around the arena at least twice, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. At least, until he found himself backed into a corner hiding from his own daughter and Jaskier popped up out of nowhere.

“Afraid of losing to a couple of teenagers, Geralt?” Jaskier whispered in a honey-sweet tone, poking his head up through the “window” on the wall to Geralt’s left.

Geralt rolled his eyes and tried to get his gun into position as subtly as he could. “It’s laser tag, Jaskier. I couldn’t care less who wins.”

Jaskier skirted around the corner of the wall to crouch in front of him, gun also held in a ready position. “Please, I’ve seen you play games with your brothers. I’ve seen you play games with me. You, dear heart, are far too competitive for your own good.”

“They’re kids, Jask. I’m not pulling that shit here.”

Jaskier shrugged and relaxed. His mistake.

“That’s fair,” he said, seemingly unaware of Geralt’s gun pointed straight at his vest. “You forgot one thing, though.”

Geralt paused, finger on the trigger. “And that is?”

Instead of replying, Jaskier surged forward and pressed his lips against Geralt’s. Geralt made a surprised noise and overbalanced, feeling himself get pushed up against the wall by Jaskier’s weight. It only took another moment before he closed his eyes and started kissing back with just as much fervor.

Geralt tried to keep it PG. There were still teens rushing around them, after all. But Jaskier pressed closer and closer and Geralt lost himself more and more to this kiss, making tiny little contented noises that he hoped the kids wouldn’t hear over the music blasting through the speakers. He spared a brief thought for if there were cameras in the room, and really hoped there weren’t any pointed toward the corner Jaskier had him pinned to.

Either way, making out with his fiance was proving to be a far more enjoyable time than chasing around children with a laser gun.

Only, when Geralt was just far enough gone to be a little fuzzy around the edges and dizzy with love, Jaskier pulled back. Geralt couldn’t quite catch the embarrassing whimper that escaped his lips at the loss of contact. He felt Jaskier’s breath puff across his cheek as he chuckled.

And then his eyes shot open at the sound of a laser gun.

Geralt looked down in shock to see that his own vest was now dark to show that he was out of commission. A little screen on his gun started counting down from fifteen, preventing him from shooting until his time “out” was finished.

“That I’m even more competitive than you are,” Jaskier said with a grin.

“Cover me!” Geralt heard Ciri shout.

Jaskier winked at him. “That’s my cue,” he said, and then he rushed out of their corner and into the maze beyond.

It took Geralt a moment to gather enough brain cells to understand what Jaskier had meant, and another moment to actually remember that he should get up and follow to see what all the shouting was about. When he walked back out into the maze, he saw Ciri rushing down another corridor, holding the flag from Geralt’s team. Cerys’s bright red braid trailed after her, clearing the way up ahead. Jaskier jogged backwards behind them both, shooting down the hallway at what Geralt could only assume was the boys.

And sure enough, after a moment, Geralt heard an outraged cry and Hjalmar raced forward to try and catch them. His vest had gone dark, but Geralt had no clue how much time he had left before he reset. Dara jogged after a moment later at a much more sedate pace, vest also having gone dark.

Geralt’s gun played a powering up sound as his own vest began glowing once more, but it was too late. The girls had already gotten the flag back to their own base. They had won.

One thing was for sure, though. Geralt was 100% buying them another round, and this time Jaskier was going down. He wanted to use trickery and lies to win? Two could play at that game.

[whimsyetal]

Queen Calanthe isn’t the Queen we want or deserve. Sure she’s strong female leadership in a time of “male tradition”, but she became exactly what she explicitly hates the most in order to continue being seen as a strong ruler.

She’s willing to marry her daughter off to someone she chose, despite having the opportunity to ask her which man she wants, and then tries to kill the man Pavetta did fall in love with. I accept that choosing Crach an Craite as Pavetta’s betrothed could easily be Calanthe surrounding Pavetta with a web of protection, since she’s dating (eventually marries) Eist, Crach’s uncle, and could use him to control Crach if he becomes abusive. (Calanthe would consider this, as she “lived in a King’s shadow”, implying that Roegner was not a decent husband). Regardless, Calanthe had sufficient political and military clout to permit Pavetta to choose her husband, and chose not to.

Calanthe also comitted genocide. There’s no debating this- Pavetta mentions both the Elves and starving serfs. Calanthe had the option to make peace with them, as she had the druids, but chose not to. She actively pursued genocide against the people she deemed ‘less than’, and described protests by her daughter (and heir) as simple whining.

She also imprisons Geralt despite his warning of an impending attack, declaring that Cintra won’t fall. Despite her duty to her people to keep them safe, Calanthe actively refutes forewarnings of an attack by someone bound to keep her heir, and therefore her country, safe. She played chicken with the lives of her subjects and herself, and lost. She is too proud and angry to accept help from anyone.

She also hates Geralt simply because he doesn’t bow to her, or accept her orders. He’s a Witcher, outside of the control of Kings and States. He’ll take your coin, but only for the job he accepts, and even then he might change the terms of the agreement a little bit. Calanthe is terrified by this- she’s held onto her power by controlling anyone and everyone near to her throne, including Pavetta. Even Mousesack accepts her orders and being part of her court. Despite Garalt’s extreme dislike of politics, and a general understanding that his best chance worth of surviving in a human-dominated world is to avoid the everliving fuck out of them, she still considers him a political threat. Calanthe at one point even threatens to torture him into compliance- although however joking she is, we can’t be sure. But that is definitely in her power, and Geralt knows little enough of human interactions to be certain if she is joking or not. Geralt would take this as a threat, and probably didn’t relax until her was well out of Cintra. Calanthe wants yes-men. That is not to say that she doesn’t want some intellectual entertainment but she very much wants them to fall in line as soon as she announces the path she chose.

In the end, Queen Calanthe wanted to be able to control her life, but only ended up becoming exactly like other kings.

[youre-in-my-sights]

W augh ok Gabe and v shy s/o who I s just. Frail, tiny, v nice, and can and will cry at any given time w/ partner who Gabe considers to be unworthy of s/o?

(I hope that by Gabe you meant not Reaper)

When Gabe first met you, it was because of your initiation into the Soldier program, However you did not meet the soldier criteria. you were short, skinny, and too emotional, a mix of traits that landed you an office job instead.

Gabe was just trying to be friendly, welcoming a new face to the base. His friendliness quickly became fondness, which quickly became a borderline obsession. Over time, and through extended contact with you, he has learned that you are in a relationship. A relationship he highly unapproves of. You have bruises and scars on your arms and a small cut under your eye. When asked about it, you quickly evaded, which only made Gabe more suspicious.

Once you were sure Gabe was out of your little office you called your boyfriend. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't quite gone yet.

"Where the hell are you," blares from the phone speakers.

"Don't shout," you say just above a mumble. "I'm still at work. Getting settled in is taking longer-"

"You said it would be over in a few hours! It's 7 at night! You have the only housekey!"

"What happened to the spare i gave you?"

"You raising your voice at me, punk?"

"N-no! No sir...I'll be home as soon as possible..."

Your boyfriend hung up on you. Gabe peeks around the corner and sees you with your head in the palms of your hands. He sees all the stress your relationship causes you in that one action, and it's enough to make his blood boil something fierce.

The next day, Gabe is all over your record. Where you're from, where you live, and with whom you live with. He apparently learns that your boyfriend has had a few charges of domestic violence and a record of domestic abuse. Just the thought of him laying his hands on you made Gabe so, so much more angry.

You arrive at your new office with more things to unpack and got to it. As you were, Gabe was already out for blood.

Your boyfriend was getting ready for whatever job he had. The walls of your house were littered with holes that he walked by and chuckled at.

Just when the front door is opened, Gabe sends a powerful punch into the man's abdomen. He hunches over in pain as he tries to catch his breath. Gabe takes his collar and drags him outside. Once the man starts squirming to his feet, he sends another punch to his stomach.

"Who....the fuck...are you," he says as he desperately tries to suck in air. "And why the...fuck. are you here...?"

Gabe sends his boot into the man's chin. Blood and teeth fly away from his face. The man uses one arm to cradle his face and the other to crawl away.Gabe's boot then comes craching onto the man's arm with an audible snap. The man howls in pain and begins to cry. Gabe rests his boot at the back of the man's head.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it," Gabe begins coyly. He presses his boot harder against his head when he doesn't answer.

"DOES IT?"

"No," the man spits out, as well as more blood.

"Y/N doesn't deserve you," Gabe continues. "He's a very nice person with so much to give. You don't even see it, do you?" His boot is grounded into his head more. Theres a short silence before the man's eyes widen. He now knows what this is about.

"I....I-" more pressure is added to the man's head.

"I know you don't see it. You just took the smallest available man you could find to work out your anger on, knowing they couldn't fight back." Gabe leans closer to the man's ear while doubling the pressure on his head.

"Shoe's on the other foot now, isn't it?"

"Yesh," the pinned man says quickly, hoping Gabe doesn't apply more pressure to his head. "I'm sorry-it won't happen again-"

"I know it won't."

A loud snap and splattering noise is heard as Gabe puts his full weight and strength on the man's skull. Gabe stands there for a while to realize what he's done and how much he enjoyed it. Perhaps the birth of a bad habit?

Once he disposes of any mess and forged some sort of break up note, he's headed back to work to wait for everything to unfold. He knows that once you read the note you'll be devastated, and He'll be there as a shoulder to cry on, and you'll be one step closer to being his.

All he has to do now is wait.

[berjhawn]

In My Head - Ch. 4 - Finally // Beautiful Stranger

Warnings: altercations, language, nothing really bad yet

Pairings: Geralt X Reader x Bucky ; Bucky X Reader x Geralt ; Geralt x Reader ; Bucky X Reader

Summary: Girl dreams about boy, girl meets boy, chaos ensues.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this short little series. I love the witcher so much that i have bought the games and even the books so i can learn all the lore. please let me know what you think. I’ll be uploading a part a day until the end should be at most 10 parts.

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Geralt’s POV

Geralt furrowed his brow as he tried to stretch out the bluish grey wool dress jacket. It was super uncomfortable. Furrowing his brow, he follows Jaskier into the great hall. He was instantly regretting being here.

“Right, so stick close to me, look mean and pretend you’re a mute.” Jaskier says looking around the room cautiously. “Can’t have anyone finding out who you actually are?”

“Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!” A familiar voice calls out drawing the attention towards him.

“Oh Shit.” Jaskier says as Geralt grits his teeth.

“I haven’t seen you since the plague.” Mousesack continues as he makes his way over to Geralt.

“Fun times, Mousesack.” Geralt replies causing Mousesack to laugh.

“I’ve missed your sour complexion. I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here, perhaps all is not lost.” Mousesack reaches out to touch Geralt’s jacket as he adds, “Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?”

Geralt groans as he slowly turns to glare at Jaskier.

“What?” Jaskier inquires.

“Walk with me.” Mousesack offers as he reaches up to grab Geralt’s shoulders and lead him away.

“To Mousesack!” People cheer as Geralt and him walk along the hall. Mousesack laughs hardily as he lifts his mug to the sky in cheers. “I’ve been advising the Skelligen crown for years. A tad rough around the edges, but they’re of the earth. Like me.”

“Old and crusty.” Geralt jokes a smirk filling his lips. “How long before this horse trading is done? I find royalty best taken in… small doses.”  

“I wouldn’t count on leaving before dawn. These suitors will vie all night for Princess Pavetta’s hand. Marrying into this monarchy is a mighty prize. Who wouldn’t want to be king of the most powerful force in the land?” Mousesack asks tapping Geralt on the shoulder.

“Hm.” Geralt replies giving a curt nod. “So, which one of theses little shits is your coin on?” Geralt asks as he looks around at the possible prospects.

“Come with me, there’s much for you to see.” Mousesack says as he motions for Geralt to follow him to a corner of the room. “It’s not a fair bet. That red-headed scanderlout over there, Crach an Craite, will marry Pavetta. The Lioness has already arranged it with the boy’s uncle, Eist Tuirseach. No one would dare make a move on an alliance that powerful.”

“Handy with a blade.” Geralt observes as he watches the royalty. “Handy with women, too.” He adds noticing all the women around the man.

“All an act. Queen Calanthe refused his proposal three times after king Roegner died, despite the two of them gliding around each other like courting swans. No, no, no. She was not for living in her husband’s shadow again.”

Geralt looks across the room to see someone approaching Jaskier and clenching his jaw he scoffs and walks across the hall to where the man was pushing Jaskier against a wall wanting to verify his suspicions that Jaskier slept with the lord’s wife.

“Well… uh, uh… Ah. Geralt.” Jaskier chuckles nervously as he greet the Witcher.

“Forgive me, my lord. This… happens all the time.” Geralt starts offering a brief sigh. “It’s true, he has the face of a cad and a coward.”

Jaskier’s eyes shoot to Geralt offering him a look of offense.

“But, truth be known, he was kicked in the balls by an ox as a child.”

“Well, that’s…” Jaskier starts to disagree but noticing the lords face continues, “T-true.”

“Apologies.” The lord offers as a look of sympathy fills his eyes. He turns back to Jaskier and handing him some coin continues, “Here, drown your sorrows on me, eunuch.”

Geralt wouldn’t admit it but he was enjoying himself. He smirks as he Lord rushes away.

“Oh, wow. Thank you. Thank you so much. First of all, you hog all the fanfare, then you go and ruin my courtly reputation.”

“I saved your life.” Geralt states. “You’re on your own from here on. Try not to get any daggers in your back before dawn.”

“Oh wow,” Jaskier says distracted by someone. “She’s here.”

“Who’s here?” Geralt asks turning to look at who Jaskier was referring to. Suddenly it felt like his heart stopped in his chest. How was this possible. “How do you know her?” Geralt asks his eyes staying focused on her.

“I saw her at the pub earlier today. She smiled at me.” Jaskier continues a smile filling his lips as he starts to walk over to where she was. Geralt instantly grabs his arm and stops him in his tracks.

“Not her.” Geralt warns his grip becoming tighter by the second.

“Huh, this is interesting, I’ve never seen that look on your face before.” Jaskier comments making Geralt turn to glare at him. “Who is she to you?”

“Drop it Jaskier.” Geralt warns making the bard shrug his shoulders and pulls his arm from his grasp.

“Fine, I’ll just be over here, you know, singing.” Jaskier pouts causing Geralt to roll his eyes.

As Jaskier walks away Geralt turns back to look across the room to see her standing there smiling brightly as she talked with some nobles. How was she here? Was it even her? The woman he saw every time he slept, or at least one that looked identical to her, was here. Geralt slowly starts to make his way around the outskirts of the room as he closes the distance between them.

The closer he gets, the more he starts to think about how long it had been since he had started seeing her in his dreams. It had to be over twenty years. The more he looked at her the more she drew him in. Her hair cascading over her shoulders in wavy tendrils. Her eyes shining brightly as they looked around at the group of people. If it was really her, what was she doing here?

“I’m sorry I haven’t been to more events, but my father was very overprotective.” Geralt hears her say to the group of adoring young princes and rolls his eyes as he hides on the other side of a pillar to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Your father was a very wise man, but I’ll admit he was a tad selfish in keeping you all to himself.” One of the men flirts and Geralt has to fight off the urge to rip the prince’s arms off.

“King Odin never did anything for no good reason.” She retorts silencing his advances.

“They why did he let you come now?” Another lad asks and she smiles.

“He wants me to become a sort of envoy of peace to the neighboring kingdoms.”

“And what did you say the name of your kingdom was again?” another asks trying to find fault with her story.

“Asgard.” A deep male voice replies causing Geralt to glance around the pillar at them. The man was tall with short blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

“Gentlemen, this is my older brother, Thor. My father wouldn’t allow me to leave without the proper escort.” She instructs making them all nod and look up at the giant of a man who towered over them all.

“I was just checking on my baby sister, making sure no one got too handsy.” Thor calls as his eyes move around the group in silent warning. “If you are alright, I shall make my way around the room.”

“Of course, have fun.” She replies giving him a look of understanding mixed with something suspicious. No one else would have noticed it but Geralt did. Thor walks away and the princes and lords start flirting again trying their best to win a night with her.

“How about a dance your highness?” One asks and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry good sir, but I don’t dance, I fear I would just step on your feet.” She explains trying to give them an excuse. “I would however, like a drink.” Like a stampede they all turn and make a beeline for the nearest table leaving her temporarily alone. Geralt watches as she lets out a sigh of relief. Deciding now was a good time he moves around the pillar and reaching out to gently touch her arm speaks.

“I thought you loved to dance.” Geralt says low causing her to tense in his grasp. She turns, her eyes looking up into his and they light up as a gasp leaves her lips. “Hello (Name),”

“Geralt.” She says excitement filling her words. He couldn’t help the way her voice saying his name made his body warm up. “It was me, the girl you saw in your dreams, it was me?” She asks her eyes watering slightly as relief washes over her.

“It was.” He answers a soft smile filling his lips. Her hands reach out to grip tight to his jacket as if he would suddenly vanish on her. She goes to speak again when the hoard of men who were hitting on her return with mugs of ale in their hands.

“Ah it seems you’ve met the mighty Witcher, don’t pay him too much mind princess, he’s just some sterile dog.” One of the princes says chuckling and Geralt clenches his jaw in anger and annoyance.

“Better some sterile dog than a pompous overzealous prince.” (Name) retorts angrily without looking at them causing Geralt’s eyes to shoot toward her in surprise. He could feel the anger now radiating through her body.

“I beg your pardon?” The prince exclaims offended.

“I wish to speak with the Witcher, all of you, go back to your party and forget our altercation.” She orders and Geralt watches as they all turn away and without so much as an argument return to the festivities. So, the gift he had seen her use all those times in his dreams was real, and she could use it here too.

“Come with me.” He says as he looks around and finding a quiet place leads her over to it.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t crazy.” She says once they are alone. “You don’t know how much of a relief it is to know that.” She says her eyes meeting his.

“I’m glad to see you too.” He adds making a smile fill her lips. “Jaskier said he saw you at the pub, why did you not come over and say something then?”

“I couldn’t.” She replies a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “I wanted too. I wanted to run over there and tell you I was here; but I couldn’t. I didn’t know until a few moments ago that it was me who you saw. I didn’t want to look insane.”

Geralt nods, his hand reaching up to gently touch her cheek. It was soft compared to his calloused hands. She leans into his touch and smiles.

“This might sound silly, but I’ve waited my whole life to meet you.” She chuckles making him smirk.

“As have I.”

“Why do we see each other when we close our eyes?” She asks her eyes watering as she once again reaches out to grasp his jacket.  

“I don’t know,” He replies his hands moving down to rest at her waist. “But I’m glad we do.”

“Geralt,” She speaks his name once again igniting the fire in his belly. “Will you say my name again?”

“(Name)…” He speaks, his voice low and gruff. Her hands move from his jacket to wrap around his waist pulling him into a tight hug. His arms wrap around her shoulders as he holds her tight. His head drops down slightly as he gently places a soft kiss to the top her head. He didn’t notice at first, but she smelled of vanilla and tulips on a spring morning.

It was intoxicating.

Will Continue - 

[witcher-not-quitter]

The amazing @advena87 has tagged me for the Witcher asks! Answer, I shall!

Skellige isles or the continent?

Continent, cause I dread sirens and trying to do map completion in Skellige frustrated me to no end

Velen or Toussaint?

Toussaint! I love the colors and of course Regis and Dettlaff are there!! 

Novigrad or Beauclair?

I really like both so much D=!! But I guess Beauclair, especially the lower parts of it, like the harbor. 

Sleeping at Corvo Bianco or meditating under a tree?

Sleeping at Corvo Bianco. I like the thought of Geralt waking up refreshed and him having an actual bed. 

Inns or Brothels?

Brothels, especially the one in Beauclair. More so that I would just have Geralt talk to the peeps there but never sleep with them.

Caves or Ruins?

Another hard one. But Ruins are a lot nicer and are fun to explore

High or low difficulty?

Low since I like the ease of it and i’m a chicken for higher difficulty. Havn’t tried higher but one day maybe.

Going back to old save: yay or nay?

Like..when you choose a wrong dialogue and go back before the convo? then yes?

Mods: yay or nay?

i’m not technically competent to use mods so I have no idea 

Mini-map or no mini-map?

mini map cause I get so lost at times and I like the ease of it

Roach or Fast travel?

Roach, I will ride her everywhere

Roads or Boats?

Roads.... boats get annoying cause I suck with them

Specters or Relics?

Relics, I just like fighting them better. Specters are a bit too easy for me

Beasts or Hybrids?

Hybrids

Necrophages or Vampires?

Vampires for sure, *slaps neck* Come get your juice!!!

Orgroids or Elementa?

Elemanta since they are a challenge to fight.

Dracanoids or Cursed Ones?

Draconoids cause they are fun and pretty

The Caretaker or the Crones?

Caretaker. That thing had a awesome reveal and a tough fight. 

Botchlings or spotted Wights?

Spotted Wights

Godlings or Trolls?

Godlings. they are so cute and wild

Sirens or Harpies?

I hate harpies so Sirens it is

Killing or sparing?

Sparing. I like to punch

Dijkstra or Roche?

Always with Roche

Vesemir or Crach an Craite?

Vesemir, I like my witcher gramps

Eskel or Lambert?

Lambert, I like my pricks

Keira or Philippa?

Keira, I don’t know why but her

Cerys or Hjalmar?

Ceryse, She is badass

Syanna or Anarietta?

As much as I dislike Syanna, I choose her. I would have like to have more in her backstory. 

Yen or Triss?

Yen, for sure. Triss always gave me weird vibes from even before I really knew much, played witcher 1 first and she just made me cringe so much.

Ciri or Geralt?

I can’t choose with that. 

Regis or Dettlaff?

Regis. He got me into the witcher fandom with all the fanart. I learned about him more and saw Geralt/Regis stuff and fell in love. I love you dettlaff but sorry

Though I did answer Dettlaff the last time 

Olgierd von Everec or Gaunter O’Dimm?

Olgierd, he does try to live his life if you spare him.

Olgierd von Everec or Iris von Everec?

Iris, I so wish there could have been something happy for her

Shani or Dandelion?

Dandelion

Johnny or Sarah?

Johnny

Sorceresses or Witchers?

Witchers, without a doubt

Druids or the local holy man?

Druids, I just like them

Food or Swallow?

Food, all the raw meat

Decoctions or Potions?

potions (fiend decoction for when i’m carrying to much stuff but being really stubborn)

Hunting for diagrams or finding them per chance?

I will hunt the diagrams down. Every Singe One.

Saving coin or spending coin?

Save cause i’m a hoarder

Looting or buying?

Loot cause then more coins

Upsetting the guards or following the rules?

sksks, I should make a post how I lured so many guards in the toussaint arena and had a thunderdome experience with them. but i rather follow the rules

Igni or Axii?

Igni, I like my fire

Yrden or Aard?

Aard--YEET

Signs or blade oils?

Signs, i feel so much more badass with them..also got them tatted on my hand

Crossbow or fists?

Crossbow.  I got pretty good with it

Settling down or staying on the path?

settle down. old man needs a break

Gwent Cards or Swords?

uh...Both of course, I hoard ALL THE THINGS!!!

Beard or no beard?

beard

“Puss Peepers” or “Mutant”?

mutant.