#triss merigold x reader

[cinewhore]

Iridescent

Pairing: Triss Merigold x Fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

warning: small angst, heavy smut. Fingering, female receiving oral, scissoring.

Summary: After the battle of Sodden Hill, you and Trish spend an idyllic afternoon on a picnic. 

A/N: a repost. credit to the gif makers.

Triss reminds you of the sun.

The soft rays that caress your skin as they filter through the trees. The warmth that seeps deep into your bones, makes you feel alive.

Your face splits into a smile as you feel her grow near, her footsteps rattling your heart. You didn’t think she would agree to meet you in the garden but you wanted a moment alone with just her. The two of you were currently staying at Kaer Morhen for the time being and helping the Witchers with various tasks. Triss demanded that she go alone, seeing as she has a better relationship with some of the mutants then you did but you refused and made the journey with her.

It was not your ideal place to be at the moment but there was so much tension building up around the continents you felt that you needed to move. The mountains provided you with enough space and air to feel less restricted. You could deal with the raggedy men if it meant getting to wake up to the same view everyday.

The bubbling of a nearby lake keeps you company and wets the air around you. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, tilting your head back to let the sun graze it.

“You know you’re not supposed to look directly at it, right?” Triss’s quiet voice breaks your meditation and you laugh, prying your eyes open. She looks like an angel, her chestnut hair neatly cascading down her shoulders and back. A cloak covers her body, dress billowing from underneath.

“If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be looking at you at all.”

Triss grins as she continues towards you. You take the time to stand up to greet her properly, a hand on her hip while the other cradles her face. “Hello, my love.”

“Hi.” Triss bites her lip as the two of you gaze into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the sheer beauty each of you possesses. “I came all this, the food better be good.”

“It is better than whatever slop they are currently indulging in.” you inform her, stepping away to dig through the contents of your wooden basket.

Triss takes the task of spreading out the picnic blanket while you prep lunch, stealing glances at her occasionally. She slips off her cloak, folding it, and setting it to the side.

“I managed to gather some of the freshest fruit, sourced from the countryside along with the richest of cheeses.” you pridefully tell Triss, setting out each dish carefully. She claps her hands as you pull out a small loaf of bread with an assortment of jams and spreads to go along with it.

“Is that blueberry jam?” She asks excitedly, a gleam in her eye.

“I traveled far and wide to find it just for you.”

Triss doesn’t waste any time as she bypasses the bread and goes straight for the jam, taking the butter knife and dipping a healthy glob in her hand to lick at. She closes her eyes in pure bliss, mouth working to extract all of the flavors. “Oh, this is the best.”

Lunch goes over well with the pair of you catching each other up on the happenings within the castle. You had your reservations about Ciri and Triss helping her but knew that Triss would never do something to endanger anyone.

“You are thinking too loudly.” she giggles when you frown at her.

“You already know what I am thinking about.”

Triss sighs, wiping away at her mouth. “I do.”

Silence floats in the air as you observe the rustling of the trees. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I have never felt safer.”

You shake your head to yourself, the stinging sensation of fresh tears threatening to spill over. The battle of Sodden Hill was still a raw subject and one that everyone narrowly avoided discussing. All of the people you considered to be friends, family, killed in combat. You did what you could to fight and you fought hard but emotions took over when you heard the screams of Triss as she was burned. You let your guard down and because of that, someone’s life was taken.

Everyday you were tortured with the sounds and punished yourself by vanishing after the battle was done. Tissaia was slightly concerned at your loss but you later returned and all was well. Tissaia knew you were hurting and let you have your space to mourn. She was privately mourning the loss of Yennefer but declined to affirm that she was.

The reemergence of Yennefer stunned everyone but it seemed to rattle Triss the most.

“You can’t change what happened, so there’s no need to torture yourself over it.” Triss’s hand covers yours.

“You’re the one to talk.” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. Triss removes her hand and stuffs them in her lap.

“I’m sorry, Triss, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” Triss shakes her head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more. I thought coming here would open up the space for you to talk to me, to let me in, but there are just times where you won’t even look at me and I just-” you stop abruptly, swallowing hard against the lump that currently occupied your throat. “You got hurt because I couldn’t be there to protect you.”

Triss’s face softens as she scoots closer to you, grabbing your face in her hands. “I got hurt because we were protecting all of those innocent people who would’ve perished under Nilfgaard. I wouldn’t change that for anything. I’m still here and so are you, that’s all that matters. Ok?”

You nod your head, tears spilling over as you bury your face into her neck. Triss sighs, rubbing a hand gently over your back. She hums a tune and waits for you to calm down.

You lean back, knocking your forehead with hers. Your nose brushes along Triss’s, her head tipping as you push your lips together. The kiss starts off innocent enough, sweet and pleasant.

Her mouth parts as you lick into it, a low fire growing in your belly. The once slow touching turns frantic as you search for a source of your lover's skin. Triss retreats as you reach to pull her dress down, struggling to catch her breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “I just want to see you. Let me see you.”

Triss gazes into your eyes with an overwhelming feeling. She hadn’t let anyone see her bare since Sodden Hill and didn’t like the scars that were left behind. She confided in Yennefer that overall she didn’t mind them, she was just happy that her name wasn’t on Tissaia’s plaque. She was happy that she got to spend more time with you.

“I’m scared.” Triss croaks, a slight tremor in her voice.

“It is only me. You have nothing to fear.” you attempt a smile and peck both of her checks, her nose, and her forehead. “A beautiful creature I have the gift of experiencing.”

Triss grabs your hand and guides it to the dress strap on her shoulder. You peel it off slowly,eyes drinking in every inch of flesh that graced your eyes. You move to the other side and do the same until both straps hang near her elbows.

“If this is too much, we can always stop. I will love you either way.” You remind her.

“I want to. I trust you.”

You help Triss lay back, kissing down her neck and nipping at her neck. You detect her heart rate accelerating and you smirk. All you ever wanted to do was let Triss know how much you cared for her and to help make her feel good. If you could do that, you could do anything.

To assure her that you were fully committed, you undress yourself, all of the scars from difficult times seeing the light of day. Triss stares in awe like she does every time she sees you naked and you lean into yourself, shy under her admiring view.

Settling yourself on your knees, you part Triss’s legs, worshiping her body as if it were your altar. Your fingers trace up her inner thighs and she shivers, hips grinding in anticipation. You decide not to keep her waiting and lower yourself in front of her damp mound, separating her lips with your tongue.

Triss throws her head back and pants as you taste her, sucking and swallowing her juices. Your right hand snakes up her body to squeeze at her breasts, twisting her nipple teasingly. Your left becomes acquainted with her clit, stroking it skillfully before you dip them into her warm cunt. Triss’s body moves on its own accord, pleasure guiding her fluidity. Her hand covers yours again as she steers you in the right direction on how to touch her, helping to pull and pinch her nipples.

“Oh, fuck, your mouth is heavenly.” she whines, feet digging into the blanket beneath her.

You hum into her pussy and grin internally when her legs begin to lock around your head. She was nearing her release and you were nowhere near done. You thrust your fingers faster, the squelching of her wetness sounding like music to your ears.

“Please, please, please.” Triss chants, voice growing higher in pitch as she reaches her orgasm. You slurp and feast on her selfishly, devouring her cunt until it's swollen. Triss groans as she jerks back from your mouth, body overstimulated.

You bite at her thighs as you move away from her center, chest heaving as she comes down from her high. You wipe at your mouth lazily, eyes hooded with lust.

“Tell me, Triss. What do you want?”

“I want,” she stops to catch her breath. “I want you to make love to me. Fuck me, I beg you.”

Crawling towards her mouth, your lips clash in a furious battle, tongues exchanging blow after blow.

You position yourself in between her legs so that your pussy was rubbing across hers and you nearly jump out of your skin as you clits make contact, the sensation electrifying.

The mixture of your ethereal moans combined with the lively sounds of the springs create a harmony so unreal, you believe for a moment that you were dreaming. There was no way this could be real, however, you look down at your paramour and bask in her appearance: legs sprawled to accompany yours, mouth agape in delight, eyes closed to fully grapple the moment.

The flowers prove to be your only audience, swaying in a tame rhythm.

The sun shines directly onto her being, casting a light so vivid you had to glance away.

She was iridescent.

[bookmaker-untaken]

would’ve been named fire & something if that wasn't cliche af ch 1

Male! Triss Merigold x Reader // Witcher III: Wild Hunt

Summary: Oh, the sorcerer has spellbound you - enchanted your heart, and it burns like sizzling fire. At least he’a a nice guy?

Authur’s Note: some of you may call me a coward for genderbending. blame THE BRAINROT!

Word Count: 1,032

i.

You go to meet the King of Beggars covered in dirt, grime, and blood.

This is unfortunate because he is talking to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. He has hair the color of - well, you’re not the poet Dandelion, you’re only a hunter - so none of the things that first come to mind are particularly flattering. His eyes are very green, like trees after rain in the summer. Is that something you’re allowed to say?

“Do you know each other?” The King asks.

The beautiful man looks at you, disgusting and wet. “No?”

“Ah, well, maybe I aught to give you some time to get acquainted,”

You don’t like the way he says that.

“I’m assuming that since you’re here the job is finished?”

“I figured you didn’t want me to bring the head in here,”

“You figured correctly.”

He fishes around for a something in his pockets and throws a bag of coins on the table.

“Your pay. Pleasure doing business with you. You’re dismissed. Both of you.”

The beautiful man seals his lips into a thin line and turns on his heel and you creep behind him until you’re both standing outside.

“Goodbye sir sorcerer,” Says the Guardsman at the gate. “Always lovely to see you around,”

“I’ll likely be back soon,” The beautiful man replies. “Oh, am I in your way?”

“No,” You say, harsher than you mean to. Realizing you need this conversation to continue you quickly add, “You a sorcerer?”

Internally you are slamming your head against the nearest brick wall.

He blinks, and you can’t help but notice how offensively long his eyelashes are. “Yes?”

“Do you need … Do you need me to walk you home?”

A polite smile blossoms on his face and you resist the urge to shield your eyes. “That’s very sweet of you, but no. I’m sure you have … business to attend to,”

His eyes find the swords on your back and your face warms slightly.

“You would think, wouldn't you,” You grumble.

He chuckles. “I understand completely. Tristyn Merigold,”

He extends a hand, and, distracted you almost don’t shake it. It’s soft but there are ridges from paper cuts and a writer’s callous.

“[Name] Witcherson,”

He nods. “Well, it was lovely to meet you - but I really must be going. My errands weren’t run themselves, unfortunately,”

The corner of your lip tugs. “A shame. But I want you to know, my offer still stands. Especially since …”

Tristyn’s face becomes solem. “Yes. Thank you, again. Well, it was nice meeting you.“

As you wave goodbye, you consider that you will likely never see him again and you’re just going to have to appreciate the glimpse you where given and that the feeling of your heart dropping into your fluttering stomach will certainly fade.

Please, for the love of eternal fire, fade.

ii.

“[Name]?

You recognize that voice. More accurately, you’d never forget it.

“Tristyn? What are you doing here?”

“Well, my services where requested in ridding the millers of their rat infestation,” He says. “And you? What are you doing here?”

“Guard duty. Pays the bills when there’s no monsters to hunt,”

Tristyn pauses. “You mentioned that you were a … Witcher?”

“Witcher-son.” You correct.

The furrow in Tristyn’s brow deepens.

“Judging by that face you must know a thing or two about Witchers,”

An unreadable emotion flickers across Tristyn’s face. “Yes.”

“One of my ancestors saved or gambled or something, nobody knows, with a Witcher and the crafty bastard asked for all his secrets.” You shrug. “Well, they taught their child, and the child after, and the child after - all the way down to me, who now guards grain.”

Tristyn nods, now understanding. “I know somebody else like that,”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s like a little sister to me,” There’s a small smile on his face you can’t help but share.

“Well hopefully she’s not wasting her skills like me,”

“Hey,” Tristyn says. “Everyone has to do someone’s dirty work once in a while,”

“Even sorcerers?” You joke.

“Definitely sorcerers,” He says. “If I knew my specialty was to become casting out rats, I may have been more lax in my studies.”

“Hm. Must be demeaning.”

He laughs lightly. “You have no - well, I suppose you may have some idea, [Honorific] Witcherson.”

You shrug. “Can’t be helped. It’s Novigrad,”

“It’s Novigrad.” Tristyn agrees.

“There he is!”

When you turn and the man who hired you for the day is flanked by three witch hunters, you immediately know what has happened.

You step in front of Tristyn.

“You don’t have to -“ He begins, but the witch hunters are already upon you.

You draw your sword and lunge, getting in a few quick slices. When one of the witch hunter’s parry throws you off balance and he moves to attack your opening, something hot flies past your ear and he bursts into flame.

You toss a glance over your shoulder where Tristyn stands, hands enveloped in dancing fire. He reaches out and another fireball springs forth from his hand.

Working in perfect sync, you owe down the witch hunters.

“Please,” The boss begs, hands held up in surrender. “Please! D-Don’t hurt me!”

“You could have just said you didn’t have the money,” You grumble, flicking the blood from your sword. “But you should give us what you do have. Now.”

Panicked, he scrambles to take out a coin purse to hand it to Tristyn before running away. You watch him trip over his own feet to escape.

“Here,” Tristyn says, hand outstretched. “It’s likely less than you were promised, but, please, take it.”

You hole up your hane. “You don’t have to,”

“I mean it, [Honorific] knight-in-shining-armor,” He winks playfully. “That fight would have been harder without you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I sincerely doubt that,”

He smiles indulgently. “Perhaps. But I find it’s always nice to have an ally. And uncommon,”

You can’t argue with that. “So, what now? More rats?”

“Ug. No. Nothing even remotely fulfilling,”He says. “I almost wish there was more rats. but such are the times.”

You sigh. “It’s Novigrad.”

You notice the dimple on the right side of his cheek. “It’s Novigrad.”

[vexieeeee]

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Masterlist

(f) - fluff, (a) - angst, (af) - angst + fluff, (s) - smut

Geralt:

Nothing yet...

Yennefer:

Nothing yet...

Ciri:

Nothing yet...

Triss Merigold:

Nothing yet...

[lunarbreaksblog]

The Witcher x Witch!F!Healer!reader

Geralt of Rivia

He wasn't going to go near you, never trusted witches really but like he never trusted them, he was compelled to you like a moth to a light.

When he saw that you could heal people, he knew you were a rare being. Witches never dabbled in health and healing. But you did.

He asks you why, you simply say that you wish to help people. This is the start a grand friendship between you and the Witcher. You help him and he helps you.

You always laughed at his dry jokes. You didn't have much company really, you were shy and kept to yourself. Knew to keep yourself away from the village near by

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Becomes quite jealous of you when Geralt talks of you to her, she felt that you were going to manipulate or take Geralt away from her.

However, those assumptions quickly diminish when she sees you. Then to hear that you are a healer that makes you quite a rare thing to be treasured in the continent.

She decides that she'll take you under her wing, not to teach magic but to teach you how to handle yourself since she could see that you were bad at human interaction.

You would be dead if you had to be a royal mage to a king.

Maybe she'll ask Geralt if they could both take you to bed. She just knows you'll be even more beautiful.

Triss merigold

Absolutely adores you! She's only seen a handful of healers in her life so far. You, though, are the most greatest healer so far.

You have compassion which is suprisely rare for healers.

Her and you get along quite well. You too have regular meet ups to talk about everything that's going on in the continent. She helps you also get better at your people skills.

Iorveth

He's not one known to be gentle with humans, especially magic wielding humans. In his lifetime, all magic wielders have been egotistical. However, you are different.

It agitates him to no end to see you healing his troops, he feels like his manipulating you but he can't shake off the feeling that maybe you are the one manipulating him actually.

It's kinda like a one-sided angry staring match and with you being very uncomfortable.

Vernon roche

Like Iorveth, he doesn't trust you at first but after you make him some herbal tea that reluctantly drank thanks to Ves. He eases up on you.

Somehow you made his back not have that ache that's been bothering him for a while.

Starts looking out for you and just generally helps you when you need it

You've wormed yourself into his heart but he won't show it

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 54

Masterlist

Chapter 53

"I'm so happy to have you here again, Aemma," you say, more tears spilling out as you continue to embrace your daughter. Geralt and Jaskier had run off to check to see how things were back in Loc Muinne, now that things had become utter chaos with the arrival of Nilfgaard's armies.

"I'm so happy to see you as well, mother," Aemma says, moving closer to you. You nuzzle her head, feeling her soft hair, but taking notice of its length, "your hair is a lot shorter than last I saw this," you joke, placing a loose strand behind her ears. "It has been 16 years," Aemma jokes, making you chuckle in response. "Yes it has," you nod, placing a kiss on her brow, "We have so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. I don't even know where to start."

Aemma thought about it. There was so much to talk about. Now that her mother was here, Aemma could now finally ask about the truth of her parents' relationship. Though, Aemma already had a good idea at this point that it was not as good or romanticized as her father had made it out to be. What if her mother wasn't ready to talk about those things yet, especially now the two of you were reunited, it might sour such a tremendous moment.

Aemma decided in her mind to save those questions for a little later. She's waited this long, she can wait a little longer. There were other things she wanted to ask and get to know her mother a little better.

"Maybe...we could talk about your adventures on the Continent," Aemma suggests. "We could," you nod in agreement, "Or we could talk about what your life has been like back in Westeros while I was gone."

Aemma felt her mouth fall agape at the suggestion for a brief moment, "Well uh..."

Sounds of commotion in Loc Muinne got your attention, interrupting the conversation. You pull Aemma instinctively as if to protect her. "Maybe this may not be the best place to talk about these things," you say. "We should get out of here," Aemma suggests, "We can regroup back to Vergen." "Vergen?" "I'll explain on the way there," Aemma assures, "but we should go find Geralt and Jaskier first." 

"What have you been up to this whole time, little love?" you inquire in a joking matter as you start the trek. You didn't too far as the moment you and Aemma started walking, a burly looking man stepped in the way of your path. Eyes wide, Aemma got in front of you, acted like she was fixing to draw a sword, but realized she didn't have one. "Run mother!" she insists.

"Hold!" the witcher Letho reaches out, "be at ease, princess. I have no wish to harm you. Not this time anyway." "This time?" you give Letho a hard look, which soften a bit, when you got a good look at him, "wait a minute, have...have we met each other somewhere before?" "Mother?" "It's a long story," Letho says, "go ask Geralt, he'll know more. I have more pressing things to say to the princess. And to show I mean no ill-will, I come bearing gifts."

Letho pulled out a sheathed sword along with a silver dagger and a silver medallion of a three-headed dragon. "Those are my things," Aemma realized, "Radovid confiscated them." "I managed to swipe them before he and his soldiers fled Loc Muinne," Letho explains, "it's a dangerous thing, after all, for a woman to travel this world alone." Aemma gave Letho an incredulous look but accepted his peace offering all the same. She took the dagger and gave it to you, "It's my dagger," you recognize, "I...I left this back in the Red Keep that night I..." you stop yourself, looking at your daughter. "We can explain this later," Aemma assures, giving one look at the witcher, "I'll hear what you have to say." "Aemma, are you sure?" "I am," Aemma nods, "I'll be alright, mother, I can handle myself. Go find Geralt and Jaskier."

You nod, trusting your daughter and go to find the two men.

Now it was just Aemma and Letho, "Alright," Aemma crosses her arms, giving the witcher a stern look, "talk. Don't take too long. After everything you've put me through, you have given me no other reason to even let you speak to me." "It was never my intention to harm you, or even to put you in harm's way," Letho begins his explanation, "but before I go any further, a drink is first warranted," he pulls out a flask, "Care for some vodka?" Aemma looked at the flask and gave Letho an incredulous look, "it's not poisoned," the witcher assures taking a swig as proof. "I know witchers are immune to poisons," Aemma deadpans, "you taking the first drink means shit to me." "Do you really believe I would resort to such cowardly measures if I wanted to kill you?" "I don't really know. I don't know you all that well, not as well as Geralt knows you apparently." "Fair enough. More for me then," Letho shrugs, taking another swig.

"Our first encounter, at La Valette castle," Aemma says, "before I passed out and you abducted me, I remember you saying it had become personal." "You were never my primary target," Letho nods, "before your arrival, the original plan I made with the Scoia'tel was to assassinate Foltest and for me to escape unscathed. Scouts spotted you in the mote, climbing into the castle. When word reached Iorveth, there was a slight change in plans. To kill the king...and to capture you afterwards so as to turn you hostage."

"I remember the Scoia'tel wanted justice for my father's wrongdoings against them," Aemma nods, "but you told me back in Flotsam that they weren't the only ones seeking justice. What had my father done to you that made you want to seek justice against him?" "It wasn't anything he'd done directly," Letho says in a neutral tone. The witcher then proceeded to pull something out of his pocket. Aemma flinched a bit, expecting it to be a trap. 

It was a piece of parchment. Letho hands to Aemma, who unrolls it.

It was a wanted sign for Geralt. Below the picture, the description reads as follows: Wanted. The White Wolf. Also known as Geralt of Rivia. For the crime of kidnapping an important member of the royal family of Westeros, and attempted regicide.  10,000 dragons for the witcher's head as well as his silver wolf medallion.   

                                                -by order of Prince Daemon Targaryen

Aemma looked to Letho, "so is this what this is about? Justice for Geralt? Strange way of protecting your fellow witcher after you went out of your way to frame him for YOUR kingslaying?"

"Hardly," Letho answers, "this was before I ever came across Geralt during my time on the Path. No...the justice I was seeking for someone close to me who became a victim of your father's crusade against the White Wolf." "...who was this person?" Aemma asks.

"A witcher, who went by the name of Bern, from the School of the Cat. We ran into each other multiple times on the Path. Annoying prick at times, but I came to see him as something of a brother. When the Rogue Prince put out a hit on Geralt, sent out these flyers to the Continent, bounty hunters, mercenaries and any two-bit assassin for hire came out from every corner to search for the White Wolf." "And Bern was caught in the crossfires," Aemma realized. "It was 14 years ago," Letho nods, "I came across Bern one final time. We were planning to travel together for a little while as we had done each time we crossed paths. Bern went behind some bushes, wanting to relieve himself before starting our journey. It took longer then I was expecting. I went to check up on him...only to find his body laying on the ground in the bushes. His head was missing...as was his medallion."

Aemma's eyes widen a bit, realizing what had happened. "I tracked the men that did this to him," Letho continues, "there were three of them. Mercenaries- brothers they were- I managed to kill one of them in my grief filled raged, but the other two escaped, Bern's head in their sack. I noticed one of them had white dye stained on their hands. The one I killed had that wanted flyer in his pocket, and that was how I knew why they went after Bern. My guess is they sought to kill Bern, thinking he was the witcher your father wanted, but didn't realize their mistake until afterwards, to which they must've brought Bern's head to your father, as evidence that they killed the witcher he was looking for, dying his hair white so as trick the Rogue Prince out of the reward. I went back to burn Bern's body. I never mourned anyone as much as I mourned him."

There was an eerie silence the moment Letho finished his story. Aemma never knew her father had posted wanted flyers for Geralt, never knew he sought to it that the witcher would never take another breath again. All because he and her mother were the ones who got away.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Aemma says with sincerity, "I'm sorry your friend became a victim of my father's wrath. But did you really think this plan would've worked? What if my father came with his dragon? That was a certainty, would you've been able to deal with that if it came to it?" "....to be honest, I knew this plan was doomed from the start," Letho admits, "it was Iorveth's idea, he was certain the Scoia'tel and myself could take certain precautions, factoring in the possibility of fighting a dragon. But there were still flaws in this plans from the moment of its inception. Besides...even if it did work somehow, killing Daemon Targaryen would not have brought back Bern, nor would it have brought back the Scoia'tel his dragon murdered. It would not have brought me anything other than the satisfaction of revenge, but who knows how long that would have lasted."

"So what now?" Aemma slightly sneers, "do you expect me to forgive you and forget everything you've done to me?" "Not at all," Letho assures, "I have no illusions of forgiveness. I'm a hard-shelled bastard who refused to pass up on an opportunity, regardless of how ill-fated it was. I won't apologize for it; however, princess, if you wish to take me on in a fair fight, have your own course of vengeance for the wrongs I've done you, I won't begrudge you this. Should you get to the point where you deliver the final blow, I won't stop you."

Aemma stared at Letho, actually contemplating his offer to let her take vengeance on him. Despite the shit he put her through, she didn't really consider Letho her enemy. Additionally, even if she did want to fight him, there was a small chance he could defeat her...okay maybe more than a small chance given he was a witcher and had a lot more fighting experience. Not to mention Aemma had only just reunited with her mother; if she were to die right here, it would have been all for naught.

So, Aemma gives Letho her answer, "I won't fight you," she says, "not today anyway...maybe not anytime in the future either. It won't do any good, it won't erase the past. I don't begrudge you the feelings you hold for my father. I'll let you go, but this doesn't change anything between us." "I wouldn't hope so," Letho shrugs, looking ahead as if he sensed something, "you should go. Be with your mother. And if you ever return to the rest of your family, do be sure to give your father my regards."

Right on cue, you, Geralt, and Jaskier show up. Letho turns his gaze to Geralt, who gives an understanding nod in response. "Farewell, princess" Letho says to Aemma, before turning to walk away, "may our paths never cross again."

"Aemma!" you call out, rushing over to your daughter's side, you joined by Jaskier and Geralt. "What did he want?" Geralt asks her. "He...we had come to an understanding," Was all Aemma could say.

"Gwynbleidd!" the group hear Iorveth's voice. Accompanying the elf was Triss, whom had blood dripping from one corner of her mouth and a few bruises here and there. "Triss! You're alright!" Aemma exclaims, running over to Tris, "did they hurt you?" "Not too much," Triss assures, "Letho saved me from the Nilfgaardians. I'll be alright aside from a few scratches..." Tris turned to see you standing there, "Wha...(y/n)!"  "Triss!" you say back, ready for impact as the sorceress ran up and pulled you in for a tight embrace. "How is this even possible?" Triss asks with joy and disbelief. "I had help from a mutual acquaintance of ours," you explain.

You look over to see Iorveth was still present, "I know you," you say, frown on your face as you remembered that last encounter all too well, "one eye less then last I saw you, but I recognize that scowl on your face." "I have no regrets of that particular encounter, Lady Lark," Iorveth says, crossing his arms, "only thing I do regret was not being able to sever the head of your daughter's father." "Hmmm...don't blame you for that," you mutter in a tone no one else could hear.

"What will you do now?" Geralt questions the elf. "...I must regroup with the rest of the Scoia'tel," was Iorveth's answer, "this is where we part ways. Va fail, Gwynbleidd, Marigold, Silverlark...Lady Lark."

Iorveth walked away. And it was right at this moment two men showed up. One you didn't know, but the other you recognized right away. "Princess Aemma!" Criston calls out, only to stop in his tracks, along with Ivan, when he saw what he was possibly up against. His own eyes widen the moment he saw you, recognizing you instantly. "Hello Ser Criston," you greet, "it's been a good while." "You...Lady Lark," Criston says, "How is this possible?" "I've been getting that a lot recently," you joke, "how fares the rest of the Kingsguard? How fares Princess Rhaenyra?" 

Before Criston could even form an acceptable answer to that question, a dragon's roar was heard. You flinch instinctively, trying not to let that particular trigger get to you, but Aemma could see how much it upset you. Aemma and the others look up to see Vhagar flying overhead. "Don't worry, mother," your daughter tries to assure you, "it's just Vhagar." "I find it a tad bit disturbing you can actually say that, given the size of that particular beast," Jaskier deadpans.

Cirillia then flew overhead, calling out to her rider and making a landing. Geralt was about to draw his sword, but Aemma stopped him, "no, don't. She won't harm us," she assures. Aemma approaches the dragon, who lowered her head as Aemma ran over to hug the dragon's snout. "Oh, Cirillia, how I have missed you so," Aemma says, "I bet you missed me too." Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "That's Cirillia?" you ask with wide eyes, "my goodness she has grown quite a lot." "You don't...remember riding her before? When you escaped the Wild Hunt with Ciri?" Aemma asks with a frown. "I don't really remember much of my time with the Hunt," you admit, "just what I remembered before. I certainly remember Cirillia being the size of a small dog when last I saw her. She wasn't even big enough to be saddled yet at that time." 

Cirillia extended her neck towards you, making almost purring sounds as you place a hand on her snout. "I'm glad you remember me, old girl," you say with a smile, "even the circumstances are less than ideal." "She seems to like you," Jaskier states. "I would hope so, her rider is my daughter after all," you joke. Cirillia then nudged her nose against your brother. "Whoa now," Jaskier says in response, "let's not get too carried away with the affection. At least not before I buy you a dinner first."

Aemma looked over and noticed a rucksack hanging over the side of Cirillia's saddle, something she didn't see last time she saw the she-dragon in her vision. Aemma wondered over to the saddle and checked the sack. "What is it?" you inquire of your daughter. Aemma reached into the sack, and pulled out a large pink egg. "Is...is that what I think it is?" Jaskier asks, "It's...it's a-" "A dragon's egg," Aemma says with a wide smile, peeking into the sack once more, "there's two more eggs in here. It's Cirillia's first clutch." 

Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "So Cirillia is a mummy now. Good to know," Jaskier says, just going with it. Geralt said nothing, making a small smile. Ivan and Criston stood at the side, feeling like intrusive spectators at this interaction.

For Ivan, the awkwardness was somewhat mitigated from the half-elf reeling over the conversation he had with Iorveth prior to the elf's departure from Loc Muinne. When Geralt went to confront Letho.

-----------flashback---------------

Ivan stood where he was, keeping an eye left and right for any signs of knights from the Order of the Flaming Rose. He kept his headband on at all times, knowing their ilk was not fond of non-humans, especially those who were mixed with human blood.

Iorveth, who had made certain that Triss was able to stand on her own then turned and walked over to Ivan, feeling like he needed to say some things to the boy that he sired. There was no telling, after all, if they would ever cross paths again after this, especially if Ivan was dead set on remaining loyal to his post as a knight of the Kingsguard.

"You came back," the older elf states matter-of-factually. "I didn't come back for you, if that's what you're getting at," Ivan sneers, refusing to even look at the elf.

"I know you are angry at me," Iorveth says, "I understand. You blame me for the troubles that befell you...and your mother. Perhaps I should've made more of an effort to find the both of you when you escaped Flotsam. I...I was more focused on my own crusade for vengeance. I can't make up for the struggles you faced as a child. But...there is something you should know." "Whatever it is, I DON'T want to hear it," Ivan insists.

"Your mother...was not as human as you may have thought her to be," Iorveth blurts out, causing Ivan to turn to face his father. "I...I don't follow." "Your mother was in'heide, as you are,' Iorveth explains, "half-elf." "But...she didn't have the pointed ears as I do." "Her own mother had her ears rounded when she was a babe in the cradle," Iorveth tells him, "the points clipped off so as she could pass as a dh'oine. I saw the faint scars on her ears when I first met her. I knew the moment I saw them. She admitted that life was a little easier because of that, but she long hated her own mother for making such decisions for her when she had no say in the matter." Ivan found himself reaching for his ears, feeling his headband for the points. He recalled times in his childhood when his mother told him to be proud of his ears, of his elven heritage,  no matter what anyone else says. Although, that tune had changed somewhat when they first moved to King's Landing.

"Do you honestly believe this will change anything between us?" Ivan asks in a scoffing manner to his father. "I don't expect anything," Iorveth says matter-of-factually, "I only wanted you to know the truth. I also want you to know of your true heritage, that you are more elf than human, that you are more likely to live longer than most half-elves. It is only a matter of time before the rest of your supposed comrades in the Kingsguard begin to notice as the decades pass." "Ser Criston knows," Ivan tries to persuade, "nothing has changed. He accepts me as I am." "As he?" Iorveth points back, "or has he merely decided to keep that information to himself until it will benefit him in some way? You cannot trust these people, boy. Sooner or later they will turn against you. It will only be a matter of time."

----------end of flashback----------

In the present, Cirillia turned her gaze to the opposite, almost like she sensed someone was approaching.

"Aemma?" she hears her name called out by a familiar voice.

You saw the way Geralt tensed at the voice. You hoped to the gods it wasn't going to be a repeat of that night in the Red Keep.

Walking around Cirillia, you spot a young man with long blonde hair with sharp cheekbones and an eye patch. You could see he was a Targaryen as Aemma is. You started to wonder...was this... "Prince Aegon? Is that you?" you approach the young prince with intrigue, him giving you a confused look. "You've really grown since I last I saw you. You're...a lot taller than I would've expected. A little slimmer too."

Aemond took a look at you and towards Aemma before turning his gaze back to you. "Are you the Lady of Larks? Aemma's mother?" "Aemond!" Aemma calls out, coming to your side. You were now confused, which Aemond took notice of. "You must have me confused for my older brother," he provides for an explanation. "Mother, this...this is Aemond. He's the king's second born son. You never met him, he was born after you left. Aemond...this is my mother, the Lady of Larks. The one I was searching the Continent for. I told you she was alive." 

Aemond looked between the two of you, "it appears so." The prince wasn't sure what to do in this situation, but you were a lady, and he figured you should be addressed as such, "it is...a pleasure to meet you, my Lady. My cousin has spoken much of you since we were children," he takes your hand and places a chaste kiss to it as a gentleman would. "Oh, well aren't you the sensible gentleman," you respond flattered, "it is nice to meet you as well, Prince Aemond."

"Aemond look," Aemma shows her cousin the egg, "it's Cirillia's. It's her first clutch. She laid three eggs." Cirillia made a low rumble in response, almost as if she were proud of this accomplishment. "Where...where's the ashen haired woman? Ciri?"

"Ciri?" Geralt's ears perked up at that name, "you saw Ciri? Where is she?" "She...she was here," Aemma turns around looking for the woman in question. "I saw her walk through a portal right before we were reunited," you admit, "Ciri must've left before the Wild Hunt could catch up with her."

"Ciri...she was here," Geralt says as the realization sank in that he had come so close to being with Ciri again. So close and yet so far.

"OH! I almost forgot," Triss says as she pulls out a small silk wrapped package and handed it to Aemma, "looks like I was able to give this to you just in time." "What is it?" Aemma asks, unwrapping the package to reveal a necklace. "I was making that for you when we arrived in Flotsam," the sorceress explains, "happy birthday, Aemma."

"It's...it's my nameday!" Aemma realized, "mother, today it's my nameday. I mean...Aemond, it's our nameday. Today is our nameday." "I'm sorry, 'our'?" Jaskier raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I need to explain," Aemma realizes, "Aemond was born on my fourth nameday. So, we share a nameday."

"Oh," Triss says, "I uh, I'm sorry, Aemond, but I didn't make anything for you. I can though if you want, it's not trouble, really-" "There is...no need for that," Aemond assures. "But Aemond, we should still do something," Aemma insists, "it's your day too. We need...we need to do something. We need...we need a cake! A honey cake, like the one Aunt Alicent had the cooks make for us on our nameday. We need, like a party, along with the cake. We should celebrate!" 

"Then by all means, let's celebrate!" Jaskier says back, as excited for this as his niece is.  "With all due respect, princess, this may not exactly be the best time," Criston points out, gesturing towards the soldiers in black armor making their into Loc Muinne. "That's Nilfgaard's army," you realize, "I thought His Imperial Majesty would've grown tired of warring with the Northern realms after all this time."

"I may have an idea of what we can do," Geralt suggests.

--------------Vergen: Main Hall--------------

"One, two, three, four!" Jaskier directs the band as he tunes his lute and begins the jig to celebrate Aemma and Aemond's birthday.

The moment the party made it back to Vergen, the dwarf Zoltan had made it back in time to greet them. Zoltan was quite ecstatic to see you again, insisting he give you a hug after all this time, to which you happily oblige.

The moment you mentioned it was Aemma's birthday, Zoltan didn't hesitate to have the alderman as well as his brethren start organizing the hall to celebrate this momentous occasion (he was a little less than ecstatic hearing it was also Aemond's birthday, but obliged nonetheless from seeing how excited Aemma was to celebrate with her cousin).

There was food and dancing and music, with you and Jaskier singing a duet, and you singing a solo that everyone fell in love with at the sound of your angelic voice.

Imagine the Lady of Larks singing this:

Geralt had a small smile on his face as he watched you sing, remembering the vow you once made on the road to Nilfgaard, how you would not sing a single note until you were reunited with your daughter once again, no matter how long it would take. By the reaction of your brother and everyone around you, it appears you had made good on that promise.

Aemma danced with the part guests as her uncle sang another jig. Aemond stood at the table, not really wanting to participate. He would've kept it that way but a dwarf woman came up to him and asked for a dance. Aemond was a little taken aback by the she-dwarf's facial hair, but he was a prince, and every woman is an image of the Mother to be spoken of with reverence. He reluctantly accepted and allowed the dwarf woman to guide him to the dance floor so as to fulfill her request.

Aemma looked over, smiling from seeing her cousin was finally properly participating in the festivities. Aemond looked towards Aemma, finding himself wishing he was dancing with her instead.

The young prince got his wish during the next song. "I'm glad you're here, Aemond," Aemma admits, "I...I know we left things at a shaky place, but I'm glad you came back. I am also grateful that you haven't tried to drag me back to King's Landing this time." Aemond said nothing, as all he could think about when he ran into Ciri, how she was adamant about finding Aemma, rescuing her from people who only wished to exploit his cousin for personal gain. "I'm glad we could do this again," he admits, "we used to have wonderful times such as this on our nameday." "Remember when the lords used to think we were the ones betrothed to each other?" Aemma asks, "from the way we sat next to each other on our nameday? The parties had to be smaller after that to lessen the confusion. At least we still had cake." Aemond made an amused smile, knowing how much Aemma loved her nameday cake on those special days.

"Have you a chance to speak to your mother?" Aemond asks, "About the things you wanted?"

Aemma made wide eyes, realizing she hadn't had the chance yet. "Oh, Aemond, you're right!" She looks around frantically, "where is my mother?"

"Uncle!" Aemma calls out to Jaskier, who was chatting with several of the dwarves. "Aemma?" "Where is my mother?" "Well, she must've stepped out for a bit," Jaskier provides for an answer, though the way he said it suggested he was hiding something, "I'm sure, she'll be back, Aemma, you may want to wait a bit." "Where is she?" Aemma asks again. "I saw her go up those stairs," Jaskier answers, "Aemma, wait, you really should reconsider, I wouldn't go up there-"

Aemma foolishly ignores her uncle and runs up the stairs, presumably to where her mother was.

She runs into a closed door, "Mother?" "Aemma, you really shouldn't-" Before Jaskier could stop her, Aemma opens the door wide, "mother, I need- Ahh! oh my gods!"

Aemma had walked in on you...and Geralt. The two of you barely having any of your clothes on, Geralt laying on the bed, and you riding the witcher like a stallion.

Cue the Witcher medieval porn music:

"Aemma!"

"Sorry!" Aemma slams the door shut, face hot as an oven.

"...I tried to warn you," Jaskier deadpans. "What happened? I heard screaming!" Aemond runs up the stairs, seeing the look on his cousin's face. "Aemma, what happened?" "Nothing happened!" Aemma insists, running back down the stairs as humanly possible.

Aemond gives Jaskier a confused frown, "the Lady of Larks...had some catching up to do," was all Jaskier had for an explanation.

Chapter 54.5

[the-doctor-3000]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 {The Witcher x F!Reader}

1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (pt. 1)

The chirping of birds woke the nineteen-year-old y/n up. She cracked her eyes open, having a difficulty to do so due to the light of the sun, and found herself laying in a forest. She sat up slowly, clenching the pendant that was hanging around her neck tightly and looked around in sheer confusion.

How did she even end up here? She was on a mission with her siblings. Knowing that it didn't include the woods. She quickly searched around for her stuff. She had her seraph blade, her stele was on her jacket's pocket along with a sensor and her witchlight stone. She stood up on her feet with a small stumble and continued to look at her surroundings confused. 

The air was clearer, deprived of pollution. It was nice but scary too.

Where was she? Had she been teleported there and how?

Not expecting to get any answers from just standing there and staring, she walked her way out of the forest. Or at least tried to. No sign of a city but a small village. Too medieval-like for her own liking.

Hopefully the mundanes were just filming a movie with that theme. As she approached, her nostrils picked up some unpleasant smells which caused her to gag in disgust. 

It smelled worse than a farm or litter boxes. She had been to villages before but none of them smelled like that.

She went pass a few locals, all of them dressed in medieval styled peasant clothing, and some gave her some odd looks while others minded their own business. Y/n's brows furrowed. She looked around, expecting to see some cameramen filming the entire thing or the staff.

She saw none.

What she did see was a cart, drawn by two piebald mares. She tilted her head to the side as she cautiously followed and examined the people on it. 

Three. The driver. Nothing too unusual for the theme of the movie - if it was a movie; he was wearing sheepskin over his bare skin and his hair reached his brows. Next to him sat another man; that one was slim, he was wearing a fancy bonnet with a heron's feather decorating it. She noticed that he was holding a lute. A troubadour, she mentally noted. 

Her eyes trailed to the man next to him. He was skinny, unhealthy pale and had milky loose hair. What she could make of his appearance from the far back was that he was a warrior of sorts.

She didn't know what but there was something about that man that piqued her interest. If her brothers were there they would be able to restrain her from going off to satisfy her curiosity. Her sister, though, would go along with her.

The white haired male spoke to the driver and he brought the horses to a halt. Y/n didn't know why but she felt like the white haired man could tell that she was following them.

Her suspicion was confirmed as he jumped out of the cart, daggers on each side and a steel sword on the back, and approached her. 

She came to a halt as she gasped instinctively. His face. She had seen worse but there was something unsettling about him. His eyes were frightening and cat-like and there was something about him. . . Cold and threatening. 

Her fingers tried to reach for her blades but he spoke. "Why are you following us?"

His voice was just as unsettling as the rest of his appearance. It was very unpleasant and hoarse. Y/n never had encountered anyone like him. She had seen things and yet this man made her feel afraid.

Why? She had killed demons, a man with a disturbing appearance should be nothing compared to her previous encounters. 

He asked her again. More demanding but still calm. "Well?"

She flinched but finally found her voice. "I am sorry." She apologised and thought that the truth would be the best answer. "I am new around. . . . here and you three looked like an interesting bunch. Would it, ah, be alright to tag along until I find a way back?"

He seemed to think about it. His inhuman eyes stared into hers as if he were examining her. "Where are you from?"

"Manhattan, New York."

He arched a white brow. "Come again? Is this a new kind of joke?"

"Why would---? Listen, if you don't know where it is then just say so." She said, irritation building its way to her chest. "Don't have to act as if it doesn't exist."

"That's because it doesn't. Never heard of such place."

The seriousness in his tone made it difficult for y/n to tell whether he was messing with her or not. She crossed her arms over her torso, trying to keep a straight face and mask her worry. "Then where exactly am I?"

"Near Lower Posada, Dol Blathanna."

She barked a laugh. "Okay okay! That's creative but, for real, where am I?"

"Do I look like someone who is joking?"

Her hair went up like wires and a chill went down her spine. She croaked nervously, "Probably not."

There was a long silence between. The man's travelling companions were observing this interraction from afar, seeming quite interested to see how this would evolve. The bard was the most intrigued by it out of the two. Y/n avoided making eye contact with the man standing in front of her, her gaze was fixated on the medallion around his neck. It was made out of silver and had the shape of a wolf's head. 

The longer she thought about it the more scared she became that maybe she was indeed in another universe and/or time period. Everything looked far too real, they smelled like it too, to be just a film production and the actors decided to mess with her. 

Then it hit her. How could he, a mundane, see her? The glamour should have made it impossible unless, of course, he wasn't human himself but he didn't look like any of the Downworlders she had known of. The only distinct feature about him which only fit the warlocks' was his eyes, which were cat-like, but she could tell that he wasn't one. Mostly due to the fact that he was carrying weapons and, as far as she knew, warlocks needn't any of those. Not when they had their magic.

She gathered up some courage and spoke, "Do you---" She cut herself, thinking carefully of her next words and tried to make eye contact without flinching. Her mother and father always told her to stare someone in the eyes when speaking or else it would make her seem like a fool. "Is it alright to stay with you until I figure a way to return to my home? I promise that I won't get in the way of whatever it is that you are doing."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And what is that you think I'm doing?"

Y/n shrugged. "Don't know and don't care. It's not my business either way as long as you don't cause any trouble that is."

"Hm."

He just hummed. No comment or any reply, just a hum. Y/n didn't know what to make of that guy but she followed him when he nodded for her to do so. They went to the cart and there was yet again an uneasy silence.

"I'm y/n Lightwood, by the way." She introduced herself to him, with a smile, hoping to at least learn his name. When he didn't respond, she quickly added. "Sorry if I crossed over any boundaries. It's just that people usually tell their names when they make an acquaintance." No response still. "So, ah, what's your name?"

"Geralt of Rivia."

"Geralt of Rivia." She tested his name, mispronouncing it completely, sounding like 'Jerald'. She noticed from the corner of her eye, his scarred eye twitching a little. 

At least she got a reaction.

Not wanting to make things worse, she decided not to speak any further. When they reached the cart, the troubadour was the first one to acknowledge her. 

"Ah! And who is your feminine friend, Geralt?" The bard asked, his cornflower blue eyes though were fixated on her.

He seemed pleasant, he looked like it too. His attitude so far was also friendly. She gave him a small smile, "I'm y/n. Y/n Lightwood."

As Geralt climbed on the cart, the bard hopped out. He took her hand and gingerly planted a kiss on the back of. "Charmed. I am Master Dandilion! A poet, a minstrel and a bard."

She chuckled, her cheeks flushing red a little. "Yeah, I got that. The lute gave it away."

"Would you be interested in hearing one of my ballads, my fair lady?"

An exasperated groan came from Geralt. Y/n was yet again curious but also bored.

"Music is the perfect way to pass the time while driving, so yeah!" She said with a warm smile gracing her features.

Dandilion beamed with joy.

She climbed the cart, Dandilion followed, and she was inbetween him and Geralt. The driver did not question her and continued. Y/n continued paying attention to Dandilion, too scared or uncomfortable to look at Geralt.

Disclaimer: I don't own the The Witcher nor the pictures/gifs, all credit goes to the original creators. This is a crossover between the Witcher and the Shadowhunter Chronicles. This will be based on the books and *not* the Netflix series and the story will be according to the books (though I'll add some scenes of my own and/or change some things in order for the mc to fit in the story).

This fanfiction will be also published on quotev.

[crashdevlin]

Left in the Cold (A Witcher fic)

Author’s Note: Again, I'm very aware that not everyone likes the Witcher but this is what demanded my attention this week. TBLP and Permission Granted are being worked on right now though lol

This is a sequel to Opposites Don't Attract I took bits of lore from the show, the books, and the games and mixed them all up into a cohesive awesomeness...I switch between calling the bard 'Jaskier' and 'Dandelion' because he goes by Dandelion in the games/books, because he doesn't like people know he's a noble. No smut in this one, just lovely angst.

Summary:  Y/n doesn't think Geralt really wants her so she's leaving before she can be left.

Pairing: Geralt x Female Witcher!Reader, mentions of Geralt x Yennefer and Geralt x Triss Merigold

Word count: 3303

Story Warnings: angst... just mostly a lot of that shit lol

~~~~

“Here’s the other half, Madam Witcher,” the museum curator who hired you said, handing you a bag of gold Crowns.

“Not a ‘madam’ anything,” you disputed, tying the bag to your potions belt. “What are you going to do with all the fakes Lery sold you?”

“They might not be authentic artifacts, but it could be argued that they are very well-done art pieces.”

You shook your head. Humans. So greedy. “Is that how you’re gonna be getting your money’s worth? You’re gonna charge people to see a set of fake Elven ‘art’?”

“I won’t present it as authentic. Don’t worry about-”

“I don’t care enough to worry,” you interrupted. “You just be careful not to get the attention of the guard. Nilfgard doesn’t like frauds.”

The man nodded solemnly as you walked away and jumped easily up onto your horse, Daisy. You rode out of the East gate of Novigrad and started down the path, cutting across a field as you turned North. A flash of pink caught your attention and you slowed Daisy to a trot as another horse came up behind you.

You raised an eyebrow at the sight of Jaskier's fluffy pink hat. "What pink nightmare is that on your head, Dandelion?"

"It was a gift, thank you, from a very prominent Redanian Duke."

"Ah. Which of his daughters did you bed?"

"The youngest," he said nonchalantly. "But he legitimately liked my rhymes before he found out I had defiled his sweetest." You shook your head. At least the bard was consistent. "Where are you going?"

The way he asked the question made your eyebrows scrunch together. "I just finished a job in Novigrad. I was going to search for another contract in-"

"You're going North. Kagen is South."

You bristled slightly at the mention of the town where you left Geralt. "Why would I go to Kagen?"

"I just spoke to Geralt yesterday and he said that you were meeting him in-"

"I'm absolutely certain that Geralt has too much sense to be waiting around for me."

"Wait, did something happen?" Jaskier asked, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. "You can talk to me, Y/n."

"Remove your hand from my shoulder or I'll remove your hand from your wrist," you warned.

"Well, someone's touchy today." He pulled his hand back and sighed. "Why aren't you going to meet with Geralt?"

You rolled your eyes. "Why would I go meet with Geralt?"

"Now, I thought you two were together, at least in a physical sense. Highly compatible, right? He's a witcher; you're a witcher. You've got parts that match up nicely. Everyone in the tavern heard you in Lyria. I thought that was the start of something-"

"Gezras save me. Jaskier, shut up." You licked your bottom lip between your teeth and bit into it harshly as you debated the best way to get the bard to stifle his questions. "We are compatible. Of course we are. Physically, we're a perfect match. However...I am not a sorceress...which means I'm not his type...and he will be bored of me before a moon has gone and I am...just getting ahead of that. All right? Have I bared enough of my inner workings to you, Bard? Or shall I pull out a flask of liquor and tell you of my childhood and lack of emotional stability?" you finished, a defensive sarcasm on your words.

"If that's what you want to do, sure, but I get the feeling that's not what you want to do," he responded, making you roll your eyes. "So, you're just going to leave him waiting in Kagen?"

"I'm sure he'll figure out I'm not coming back before too long."

"Do you want me to tell him-"

"I don't want you involved. I don't want you to say a thing about this. I just want to go find a contract to get some coin and put a few more miles between me and the Butcher of Blaviken, all right?"

"Oh, come on. He hates being called that."

"Then revise your song," you snapped. You took a deep breath and adjusted your hold on Daisy's reins. You were losing control of your emotions. You were straying dangerously close back into Feline territory. "I'm going to go. Enjoy your...just farewell, Jaskier."

"And when you run into him again?" He adjusted his hat and patted his horse's head. "It's bound to happen. He was actively avoiding me for years and we still managed to cross paths. What will you do?"

You shrugged. "If he's alone, we'll have sex. If he's with one of the others, I'll go my own way. As I am doing now."

You couldn't keep up the conversation. Jaskier called out after you as your horse sped away down the path, but you didn't turn back. You could not go back to Kagen. You could not go back to Geralt.

You felt...deeply...horribly...terrifyingly. You felt in a way that Geralt of Rivia did not. You cared easily. You loved freely. You desired in a way that Geralt could never even begin to understand. You felt...which meant you could, and would, feel pain. You were left wide open to heartbreak. After analyzing everything, you were left with a single option: walk away. Walk away and leave the White Wolf a sweet memory.

~~~~

You stared at the stars, lying out on your bed roll waiting for sleep to take you. In the three weeks since you left Geralt in Kagen, you’d gone Northwest. Away from Temeria where Geralt was, away from Redania where the king seemed to have a vendetta forming against all nonhuman entities, away from Nilfgard and their dark armies. Tredam in Poviss was a safe, calm place. A witcher would likely be the craziest thing to enter the gates in years. Once you were there, you could take some coin and rent a small cabin for the winter. Hide a while with nothing but your meditation. Force your emotions down. Force your feelings away.

If you made it that far.

There was no sound of boots on frosted grass approaching you, but there was a smell and a sense of movement. You didn't have to ask. You didn't have to look. You knew before he'd rounded the tree closest to you who was approaching.

"You can come out now, Joel," you called, sitting up.

"Quite a bit further up North than I expected, sister," he said, quietly, walking around the tree to look down at you. He was tall with dark skin and his brilliant eyes shined in the dark just like yours did. Joel was a witcher, a Cat School graduate, your brother in every way but blood. You could see pain and anger on his face and it took no guessing to figure out why those emotions were there. He knew, just as well as you did, that you had abandoned him when you left the Caravan. When you saddled your horse in the dead of night and took off without a word almost twenty years before, you left him behind.

"I've been all over the Continent...and Skellige. This is the first time I've been North of Redania in years, actually." You licked your lips and leaned forward, eyes narrowing to take in more of the man. He was scarred, just as you were, but your scars were monsters claws embedded in your skin as constant reminder to move faster, be better, hunt harder...his looked to be knife wounds. The scar across his throat made your heart ache; someone had slashed him from ear to ear. But he'd obviously survived. Gods have pity on the one who tried to kill that Cat.

"Oh, I've heard." He nodded as he came to stand in front of you. "A giant in Skellige, wasn't it? And that trio of trolls in Temeria."

"Just to name a few, of course." You analyzed Joel as he rocked a bit on his feet in front of you. He was on edge. He was anxious. He was in fight mode already.

"Just to name the ones songs have been written about."

You rolled your eyes. Jaskier would need to be throttled. "The songs were...not my decision."

"I noticed, in the songs that weren't your decision...those songs of a White Wolf and a Stray Cat, you seem to denigrate our teachers. Have you spent the last twenty years talking shit about the people who saved you?"

"You can't sully the reputation of a school of assassins and mercenaries." His eyes cut away at the mention and his heart rate doubled for a few seconds. "Is that why you're here, Joel? Are you here to dispatch a naysayer? Here to kill a traitor to your school?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "No. Of course not. I'd never kill you over something like ideology."

"Then what are you going to kill me for?"

"A witcher always fulfills a contract," he said, quietly.

That shocked you. "And there's a price on my head?"

"A woman approached the Caravan. Well-dressed, human, obviously uncomfortable around nomads...but she came anyway." You swallowed as he shifted slightly to stand between you and your swords. "She said her name was Marchioness Taran Woudsly and-" Your eyes closed in silent exasperation at the name. You knew what this was about. "-she needed a witcher to take down the witcher who murdered her husband."

"I did not murder her husband," you argued. "I have not murdered a soul in over twenty years. I have killed monsters and I have killed in defense of my own life, but it has been since the Quadrell contract-" You shook your head and sighed. Joel didn't care. "Her husband was cursed, wolf-bitten. He was killing people because he refused to be locked away on the full moon. I had to kill him. I waited until the wolf took hold of him and then I took him down. I did my job as a witcher. That his wife would rather have sacrificed the peasants of their lands than chained her husband, that she would rather they die than her cursed spouse...that she thinks what I have done is murder but not what he did to those families...well, that's telling, isn't it?"

“She’s put a contract out on you. I’ve taken that contract. It is my job as a witcher to-”

You jumped up and looked into his eyes. “Your job as a witcher is not to murder people. Just because our teachers taught us that was the way, that doesn’t mean-”

“Fulfilling a contract is our job. Witchers do not back down from our obligations.”

“She has no right to see me dead, Joel!” you exclaimed. Your emotions were high. Your adrenaline pumping. You were in peak Cat School condition. "She has no right to force my brother to bear the weight of my-"

"Your brothers and sisters have been bearing the weight of your absence, why should I not bear the weight of your death?!" he snapped, hand moving to grab his steel.

"If you draw your blade on me, I will be forced to fight against you. Please, do not force my hand to-" His sword answered for him. You jumped back as he slashed at you. "Joel, don't do this!" you begged.

He gave no indication that your words even penetrated his mind. He continued to attack you as you rolled and dodged, trying desperately to reason with him as he ignored you. His blade slashed into your chest as you tried to avoid him and you screamed in pain as you fell haphazardly to your bedroll. Regret flashed across his face, but he raised his sword above his head anyway.

He had a contract to fulfill. He was going to go through to the end.

You drew a sign in the air and a pulse of energy burst from your hand, knocking him back. It gave you enough time to grab your own steel sword and raise it to him. "Brother, please. In the name of all that is good, don't do this!"

"Do you remember the Trial of Dreams?" he asked. His hands shaking caused his sword to quake above him. You nodded. You remembered your visions. You remembered the sickness and pain. "Did I ever tell you what I saw?"

"No, Joel. None of us wanted to talk after."

"I saw you," he whispered. "I saw you transform into a wolf." Your eyebrows came together. "You stopped being a cat and you became a wolf and I never understood what that vision meant until I heard that song. I never put it together that you left to become a wolf until I heard-"

"That’s not why I left! I can't change my medallion any more than you can! I left to change my life!" You stepped back and he stepped forward. "I didn't want to be a murderer anymore. I just wanted to kill monsters. The-the Wolf was right, but I wasn’t trying to be like him! I was just trying to find myself!"

"You changed. You left and you changed."

"And that’s why I couldn’t come home! That's why I've been alone for twenty years! That's why I've spent nineteen winters renting rooms in inns and taking small contracts to make coin to survive. I changed for the better and I knew our teachers wouldn't be able to see that!"

Your chest wound stung as you panted, blood leaking down the front of you.

"Should I pity you? Should I feel sympathy for your loneliness? You chose this!" He swung his sword and you caught the edge with your own.

"And you chose to take a contract on me!" You parried his sword and swung at him, stepping around and slashing at his back. "Because I left? Because I betrayed you? Because I walked away from Dyn Marv? Not because some noble asked you! This is personal, isn't it?"

"Of course it is!" He twisted away and slashed at you. You parried again and knocked him back, readying to hit him with another Sign. He hit you first, a jet of flame emitting from his palm and burning your face. "You abandoned me!"

You covered your face with one hand and stumbled backward. He grabbed your shirt and pulled you closer, his sword at your throat. Both of you heard the sound of flesh being ripped by the blade of a Witcher's steel blade, but only one of you felt it.

Your eyes went wide and you looked down at the place where your sword was embedded in his chest. "I'm so sorry," you whispered. There was nothing else to say. He let out a few gasping breaths before he fell to your bedroll.

"I'm...more...sister."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the pain of watching your brother die settled into your bleeding chest. You'd likely always feel guilty about this moment, but there was nothing you could have done. You tried to convince him. You tried to stop him. He refused. He wouldn't let both of you live.

You collapsed to the ground, eyes on Joel's lifeless body prone on your bedding. The pain in your chest was almost as bad as the pain in your heart, but you couldn't move to clean or bandage the deep gash. Your mutations would save you, or you would meet your brother on the other side.

Your blood loss made you cold, or maybe it was the sting of Northern air on blood-sticky skin. You shivered. Your teeth chattered. Your vision tunneled. The darkness took over.

~~~~

Warmth permeated the air and sunk into your body. Pain was gone. Cold was gone. Sadness and guilt remained. You could sense movement to your left, breathing and someone turning pages on a book. A smell of lilac and gooseberries filled the air.

"Shit," you whispered, opening your eyes. The canvas top of a tent greeted your vision. A fire crackled in the middle of the enclosed space. A raven-haired woman sat at a small desk on the opposite side of the tent from the cot you occupied, a book in front of her.

"Are all witchers so vulgar and uncultured? I thought it was just Geralt," she mused, not looking up from her book. You didn't respond. You weren't sure what to say to her. "There's a pitcher of water beside you...if you're thirsty."

You licked your lips as you sat up, looking down to see your bandaged chest. She must have put a healing salve on you, because you felt no sign of pain from it. "Th-thank you...ma'am."

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am and I won't do the same," she said, finally looking up. Her violet eyes caught yours and you swallowed thickly before looking away and reaching down to retrieve the offered water. "We're the stuff of bardic legend, aren't we? Ballads Dandelion has written about us...and Geralt. 'Wolven Storm' sounds so much prettier from Priscilla but I don't think I've ever heard her take on 'Made In Blood'. Do you think it's better than when Dandelion sings it?"

"I've never heard Jaskier's lover sing, so I cannot speak to it." You took a drink of water and sighed. "Yennefer of Vengerberg. If you've heard the song...why would you save me?"

"I should let a woman die simply because she's a rival for the romantic attentions of a man?" She sat back and tapped a finger against her perfect jawline. "I suppose a lesser woman would. Get you out of the way...help Geralt grieve once he's heard the news of your untimely passing. But that would be the lesser woman...and I am am anything but lesser." She stood and stepped closer.

"He wouldn't," you whispered, focusing on her black boots.

'Wouldn't what?"

"Grieve." You looked up. "Geralt barely knows me. He doesn't trust me. We have had...some time together but...I'm no more important to him than the whores he visits in every city he comes to."

Violet eyes searched your face. "Geralt is a man who does not form attachments lightly. So the attachments he does form are special. He's not attached to the whores, Cat."

"Who says he's attached to me?"

"Dandelion, for one," she started. "Ciri, for another." You swallowed down another drink of water and looked away again. You'd never even met Geralt's adopted daughter. How could she possibly know- "Geralt talks about you."

"To Dandelion, I understand, but to Ciri?"

"He trusts her."

"I'm sure he didn't talk about me to Ciri because I mean anything to him." You shook your head. "He's in love with you."

She rolled her eyes. "We were only ever together because Geralt made a wish to a genie," she argued.

"Are you insane?" You stood. "You're gorgeous, intelligent, powerful, men the world over fall at your feet. You honestly believe Geralt only loved you because of the wish?"

"Are you insane?" She flicked her hair off of her shoulder and looked away from you. "You're a witcher. You are more alike to Geralt than I could-"

"No. You're a sorceress," you exclaimed. "You are just as alike. You went through the same sort of-"

"No." She shook her head, ending the conversation. "Try to keep yourself warm, in the future."

You nodded. "Fine. Thank you for your...assistance, Yennefer."

"I won't help for free next time."

You stepped toward the entrance to the tent and pulled the cloth out of the way. "If you...see Geralt…"

"I haven't seen you, of course," she dismissed.

"Of course." You smiled tightly for a moment before walking out of the tent into the crisp Northern air.

[metalgearwitcher]

What I WILL write: Fluff Angst Hurt/Comfort Gender Neutral reader Fem Reader Male Reader MLM, MLW WLW Platonic (all underage characters are auto-platonic) Smut Pregnancy dark topics (suicide, murder, death, sh etc) canon typical violence ( there is a lot of it in these franchises, they are anti war stories afterall maybe not depicting some of the things that happen in canon it but I can still reference them )

Will Not Write Non-con Yandere Underage "disturbing" kinks (usually meaning involving noncon partners, violence or bodily functions, mostly) feel free to ask if your kink is ok or not) Character x Character AUs ( sorry not my thing)

I will not judge you at all for any kinks or personal interests - do not be afraid to message me with any questions you have

will some detail with the requests like a prompt, but not so much that I'm just writing your OC

am a slow writer. I might take a while to finish a request

If there is a character that isn't on the following lists, ask about them to see if I write for them

character list below the RM

Metal Gear

I'm not familiar enough with metal gear rising to write for those characters but most of the others are fair game

MGS character list

Solid Snake

Big Boss or Naked Snake

Revolver Ocelot

Otacon

Meryl Silverburgh

Johnny Sasaki

Sniper Wolf

Zero

EVA

Para-Medic

Kazuhira Miller

Strangelove

Cécile

Venom Snake

Quiet

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

The Witcher Iv only gone through the Witcher 3 so I'm not familiar with the previous games, so I will do research to write for some of the more popular characters like Vernon Roche and Iorveth

This is based on the game version the characters not the tv show. I still like the show I just think there should be more content for the game characters ( though I might make an exemption for Jaskier I love him too much to exclude)

I'm not finished with the book series yet but I may included details from it and reference book only stuff or use characterization if there isn't enough detail for them in the games, I will probably add more characters when I'm finished with the books, like Milva

Witcher character list Ciri

Geralt of Rivia

Dandelion

Jaskier (TV)

Triss Merigold

Shani

Vesemir

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Eskel

Lambert

Vernon Roche

Iorveth

Cerys an Craite

Regis

Ves

[captain-coven]

“i watch the witcher for the plot!”

the plot:

[salems-crimes]

imagine admitting your feelings to Triss

You'd been friends with Triss for a long while. You'd spent most your life with her. And the second you realized the feelings you had felt for her was the none platonic kind of love. You grew distant. You didn't know what to do. How to admit to her. If she'd feel the same.

And she noticed. She took note of how subtly you would leave whenever she entered. How she tried to talk to you, you would become flustered and nervous. She had finally gathered the courage to completely confront you. You didn't know what to do.

“You’ve been distant.” Was how she started it. You instantly denied it, going to leave, but she gently grasped your hand. You looked at your conjoined hands before your eyes found hers, “I-” You begun but didn't know how to start. “I love you.” was all you muttered out, before removing your hand from hers, in fear of rejection

“Oh, Y/N..” She breathed out gently. “I love you too.” She stated. You shook your head, “No, Triss. I'm in love with you. I have been for some time now..” Triss smiled kindly, “Y/N. I love you.” She repeated before it hit you. She felt the same as you. She reciprocated the feelings you'd been so terrified to share.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 11.5

Chapter 11

"Now you see the lengths I can go to in order to take back what belongs to me," Daemon says in triumph as Caraxes stared down Geralt, the look in the dragon's eyes mirroring the same triumph and anger in his rider's.

Back inside the keep, the other witchers could only stare in awe and terror at the sight of the blood wrym.

"That's the dragon?!" Jaskier exclaims in shock, "that's THE dragon that Daemon rides?" "Caraxes," you nod in confirmation.

"I did say he was big," Ciri points out. "Yes, but THAT big?!" Jaskier exasperates.

"I have to agree with the bard on this one," Vesemir speaks, "Even if there were a hundred of us, we may not stand a chance."

"We have a sorceress to help us," Ciri points out. "I appreciate the confidence," Triss speaks, "but dragons are near impervious to magic. Just as with witchers, it would take dozens, even hundreds of us to subdue such a beast."

You sigh, taking a deep breath, thinking about what needed to be done. You were the reason Daemon came all this way. You were the one who could stop this conflict and prevent the bloodshed that was going to ensue.

"You are outmatched, witcher," Daemon continues his triumphant speech, "even with your tricks and spins and your enhanced senses, you are one man. You cannot hope to defeat a dragon on your own. Surrender now. Produce me (y/n) and my child, and I will spare you the destruction of your home, and you the pain of a burning death."

Geralt stood his ground, refusing to back down.

Right at that moment, the doors to Kaer Morhen opened wide. The witchers, lead by Vesemir, run out with swords in hand, their eyes black and skin ashen from the potions they had just consumed. Geralt turns to see the wolves join him in the fight.

Daemon's eyes widen a bit, not having realized there were more of the witcher's kind.

Geralt turned his gaze back to the prince, potion vial in hand, "as you can see, prince, I'm not alone," he downs the potion, his own eyes turning black and skin turning ashen white, "but you are, even with a dragon by your side," he points his sword at Daemon, "turn back now. There is nothing here for you."

"So you will not surrender?" Daemon asks, looking to Geralt, and the other witchers, "you would put your own brethren in mortal danger just to defend the woman you love?"

"We will all defend (y/n) and her child to the last fucking breath if we must," Eskel speaks, "they are one of us."

"You think yourself the first to invade Kaer Morhen?" Vesemir states,  "Men who possessed none of what you have tried to rid the world of the likes of us once before, yet here we stand. We've survived the last raid, we will do so again."

"Go back home to your comfy cushioned palace, you fucking spoiled princeling!" Lambert sneers, the other witchers shouting and jeering in agreement.

"...So be it," Daemon says in a rather calm yet threatening tone, looking to Caraxes, who seemed all too eager to obey his master's next command. Daemon turned to the witchers, a small smile on his face, "Dracarys."

Caraxes raised his head and a pillar of fire shot from his mouth. The witchers simultaneously cast the Quen sign to shield themselves from the dragon's flaming wrath. While the sign proved to be effective, it did little to conceal the heat of the flames.

Nevertheless, the wolves stood there ground.

Meanwhile Triss stood by the entrance to the keep, gathering her thoughts and her strength, focusing on the dragon.

She begin to mutter incantations in the Elder Speech, focusing the chaos around her to surround Caraxes.

It took some time, but the spell started to take effect. Right on time as the witchers were starting to feel the heat of the flames burn through their armor and into their skin. Their magic shields were starting to falter right when Caraxes stopped.

Daemon looked to his dragon, wondering what was going on.

Caraxes swayed and started to move about in a sluggish fashion, almost as if he were disoriented, until he faltered down.

The blood wrym was down, but he was not completely out.

Triss kept repeating the incantations that kept Caraxes sedated; it hadn't even been a minute and already the effects of the spell were starting to take its toll on the sorceress.

Many of the witchers were still recovering from the dragon flame.

Vesemir, Lambert, and Coen and two of the witchers rush up to subdue the dragon. Despite the heavy sedation spell, Caraxes could still push his weight around and knock the wolves about.

Eskel and Geralt take up their swords and charge at Daemon. The prince parried each of their blows from their swords. Valyrian steel was lighter then silver, which worked in Eskel and Geralt's favor as they begin to push the prince back.

While the fighting was going on you ran to your room and found your daughter still in your crib.

You had no doubt the Geralt and his brethren could take on Daemon (one would've been more then enough to suffice), but Caraxes was a different story.

You trusted Triss to be a capable and strong sorceress, but if what she said was true, she would not be able to subdue the beast for much longer. 

You take Aemma from the crib and cradle her to your chest, giving her a kiss on the head. You feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

Aemma looked up to you, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. To her, you were her whole world at this moment, unknowing of the outside world like she's been since the day she was born.

You loved her, and this was the last thing you wanted to do, but you couldn't be responsible for the needless deaths of the men who had welcomed you into their home and allowed you to stay and care for your daughter.

This needed to be done before more blood was shed.

You walk out of your room and into the main hall of the keep, heading for the front entrance.

"Uh, (y/n), what are you doing?" you hear Jaskier question in confusion, "Where are you going with Aemma?" You look to your brother with a knowing gaze.

"No," the Bard shakes his head, "no, no, no, (y/n), don't you dare, I forbid it." You scoff lightly, heart not completely in it, "when has that ever worked?"

"(y/n), you can't," Jaskier insists, "you don't have to do this, we can figure something else out." "Wait, what is she doing?" you hear Ciri ask. "Daemon is hear for Aemma and me," you say, "If I go with him, he'll spare Geralt and the others. I need to do this."

"No, don't," Ciri grabs your wrist, "you can't do this. I swore I would not let anything happen to Aemma, and I won't. I'll protect you, the both of you."

You turn to Ciri, tears in your eyes, "Ciri, you're a brave and sweet girl," you say, placing a hand on her head, "but don't make this anymore difficult then it already is." "But (y/n)-" "this is my decision, Ciri," you say sternly, "I'll be okay. Daemon won't hurt me, not as long as I have Aemma in my arms."

Meanwhile, the fight continued.

Daemon was pushed to the ground by Eskel as he and Geralt have their swords pointed at the prince. Daemon looked towards the keep to see Triss was still focusing her spell on Caraxes. If Daemon could take out the sorceress, the dragon would be back under his command once more.

Daemon got on his knees, putting his hands up to signify his surrender.

Geralt and Eskel still kept their defenses up as they slowly approach the prince.

Noticing the dagger by Eskel's side, Daemon quickly stands and grabs it, stabbing the man in the side.

"Eskel!" Geralt rushes to his brother's side as Daemon makes a run for it. Geralt was about to go after the prince, but Eskel was doubled over in pain.

The white hair witcher looked to see exactly where Daemon was running towards.

"Vesemir!" Geralt calls out, getting the elder witcher's attention, "he's going after Triss!"

Vesemir stopped fighting the dragon and ran after the prince.

Triss' nose was starting to bleed at this point, but she stood her ground and kept focus on the spell.

"Triss!" she hears Vesemir calls out.

Sure enough, Triss looks up to see Daemon about to stab her. The sorceress quickly dodged, but the sword braised her side, forcing her to falter in pain.

Vesemir ran to Triss' side and helped her to her feet.

The spell quickly dissipated and Caraxes shook off the effects, almost as if he was never under the spell's influence.

"We might want to fucking run now," Coen suggests.

Too late.

Caraxes growled and went after the witchers. One got snapped up in the dragon's jaws while the rest ran for their lives.

Daemon stood in triumph as Caraxes approached Geralt and Eskel. The prince walked towards the dragon and stared into both the witchers' eyes, ready to finish it all.

"STOP!!!"

Daemon and Caraxes both turned around towards the keep to see you by the entrance, the baby in your arms.

Daemon stood there, speechless. He felt himself start to walk towards you.

Before you knew it, Daemon stood in front of you, staring in awe at the bundle in your arms. "Please stop this, Daemon," you say, voice broken as you fought back your tears, "This is the reason you came all this way, isn't it? You came for me...and for Aemma."

"Aemma?" Daemon looked into the bundle to see your daughter's face, "you...named our daughter after the late queen?"

You nod, fighting the urge to shove Daemon away as he reached a hand to touch Aemma, rubbing her back.

"She is mine," you hear the prince whisper, "the blood of the dragon courses through her veins." 

You look up to Daemon, staring into his eyes with a hard look on your face.

"Spare the witchers," you sternly tell him, "and we'll go with you. Please, Daemon, swear to me no further harm will come to them, and I'll swear to go with you back to King's Landing, or Dragonstone, or wherever it is you wish to take us. Just please, stop this madness."

Daemon looked to his daughter, then turned his gaze back to you. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, "you have my word, Little Lark. On the gods of Old Valyria."

You exhale, still annoyed by his pet name for you, but relieved that you were able to end this.

"(y/n)!" you hear Geralt call out, as he helps Eskel back to the keep, "what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," you say, letting a tear run down your cheek.

You feel Daemon place a hand on the small on your back and escort you towards Caraxes; the prince giving the witcher a knowing and triumphant look as he did so.

The witchers, Jaskier, and Triss could only stand and watch.

Ciri walked out of the keep, to see you and Daemon walking away.

"(y/n)!" she calls out, tears in her eyes, "don't do this!"

The young girl runs after you, but Geralt stops her, "Ciri!" he says. Ciri struggled, tears falling down as she watched Daemon help you up on Caraxes.

"No..." Ciri cries softly as Daemon mounts the beast behind you on the saddle.

"NO!!!!!"

The ground began to shake. Triss, Jaskier, and the witchers cover their ears from Ciri's screams. Caraxes roared in agony. You hold Aemma close to you for protection. Behind you, Daemon covered his own ears, looking to see where the source of this power was coming from.

For one reason or another, the chaos surrounding Ciri started to cause the witchers to pass out, the injured ones first.

Caraxes managed to protect you, Aemma, and Daemon by raising a wing to form in barrier in front of you.

"CIRI! STOP!!" you shout out, but it didn't do much good.

The keep was starting to crumble from the impact.

Triss stepped away from Vesemir, summoning what strength she had left to cast another spell to subdue Ciri.

It worked, but the spell also backfired, hitting Triss and Vesemir, causing them to pass out; the spell ricocheted towards Caraxes, who had lowered his wing, and hit you and Aemma.

To your surprise, you barely felt a thing. You look to Aemma, but it didn't seem anything different happened to her either.

Daemon leaned over your shoulder, concern for his daughter taking over.

Ciri, still disoriented from the impact of the spell, groggily got back on her feet. Seeing the everyone else was down, and the dragon had not yet taken off, she runs to you and Daemon.

Both you and Daemon could only stare at the young girl, shocked and speechless, even Caraxes seem to stare at her in shock as well.

"You want to take (y/n) and Aemma away from here, you're taking me too," Ciri states with authority.

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

Some time later, the witchers started to come to.

By the time Geralt regained consciousness he saw his brothers walk back to the keep, many of them exhausted and wounded.

Inside, Vesemir tended to Triss' wounds while Cone took care of Eskel.

Geralt walked in and approached the elder witcher, "Where are (y/n) and Aemma?" he asks. "...Gone," Vesemir says somberly, "as is Ciri."

"What?!" Geralt's eyes widen, "she...no, no, no," he shakes his head in denial.

He runs outside to calling out for Ciri, shouting into the mountain.

The witcher fell to his knees, not able to come to terms with the fact that not only was the women he loved taken away, but now his ward was taken from him as well.

Geralt turned his gaze to the west. He was going to do everything in his power to travel to Westeros, and bring you, Aemma, and Ciri back home.

Chapter 12

Masterlist

[reddeaddamnation]

The Witcher preference: Arguing with them

Geralt: When you argue, he tries to stay calm or else all hell will break loose from the two of you. He listens to your words and tries not to cut you off mid sentence and talks only when you ask him a question. He learned a lot that mindless shouting leads to nowhere and prefers to talk the problem through like civil people

Lambert: When you two argue, you bet a lot of furniture and various other things are gonna be sent flying and hopefully not hit someone. When you argue, the whole world knows what you are doing and also what you are gonna do after you stop arguing. Angry sex is a real thing with him. He will give you a real reason to shout.

Eskel: He rarely argues. He is the strong silent type. He will most likely just listen to you calmly and explain why you are wrong or if you are right, will apologize thoroughly. His head starts hurting from all the shouting and screaming.

Dandelion: Again, you know furniture will be flying, but one sided mostly. Dandelion will be too busy running away with the words “But, honey, please, baby...” If it’s up to him, he would never ever argue because he’s so gentle, but what can he do. Will most likely write you a poem to apologize.

Avallac’h: He doesn’t argue. He just doesn’t. Shouting makes his head hurt and he would absolutely beg you to stop shouting and talk like rational beings. Other than that, he would never raise his voice at you.

Eredin: When you argue, he wouldn’t raise his voice, but keep it dangerously low, so that you get the hint that something bad is going to happen if you keep testing him. He is the Elven King and will not have his authority questioned. At some point, he would have enough of your shouting and kiss you roughly, having you two end up in bed. 

Yennefer: We all know her temper. If yours is just as bad, be sure that spells are gonna fly, along with furniture and maybe the whole house, but that’s how it goes. She isn’t quick to apologize and may spend some time moping and being mad at you, but inside she is dying to hug you.

Triss: She hates arguing and will most likely cry a lot the whole time. For a pyromancer she is quite soft and easy going. She never stays mad at you for too long and hopes you do the same, because she wants to forgive and forget as soon as possible.

Ciri: She’s calm and mature about it, rarely raising her voice, because she knows she won’t get her point through faster that way. She might act colder for awhile though. She still got that princess-y, stubborn side of her that if you don’t apologize, she won’t do it either.

Philippa: She solves all her problems like a civil lady and gets her point through with facts and a rational voice that doesn’t take objections. Her calm exterior has the ability to calm your angry one and even if you want to scream, you don’t have to because she isn’t doing it either. Too proud to apologize though.

Keira: When you argue, it would be mostly a battle of who knows more words. She is an eccentric and will most likely use hard words even if she herself doesn’t know what some of them mean. You would also start mocking each other and at some point that would end the whole thing because you will be laughing at each other’s silliness.

[beauty-of-sins]

Since you are still taking requests. Can I have a yennefer x triss x reader with the reader an assassin but no one know who the are. Eventually the two do meet the reader after they witness her killing her one of her targets. Where she explains that her targets are part of dangerous organization

Having to explain why you’re kneeling over the dead body of a noble was an unexpected twist for tonight. Two mages burst through the door right as you finished the job, watching as his body fell to the floor. The mage known as Triss Merigold looking horrified while the women you had accessed earlier in the night as Yennefer raised an eyebrow before drawing out her own dagger, stepping forward with dangerous intent clear on her features. You curse at your own carelessness. As much as you would like to showcase your own skill, the less noise you made the better. Plus, you were pretty confident they would not be willing to let you go so easily. You raise your bloodied hands slowly as the door locks shut behind them. 

“I can explain.”

It started with a simple job. You tend to cut necks first and then ask questions later. Most people call you in for a one time job, to get rid of any “problems” that they had. However, this one group kept employing you, making you attack some rather strange targets. Your curiosity got the best of you. You started connecting the dots, tying them to a cult that sought to disable the continent for power. 

A war would boost your services for quite a while but not at a cost you were willing to take. The number of innocent lives that were going to be lost spurred you. You had taken this upon yourself to finish this movement before it really started. Your target for tonight claimed to support mages but was secretly funding movements to discredit them, even hunting down children who possessed the ability, in a calculated move to bring more disorder to the continent. 

You don’t want to pretend like you’re some saint but even you had limits.

It had sickened you to see him exchanging jokes and sharing wine with those he couldn’t care about. 

He was just one of many to come. 

Triss folds her arms upon hearing your tale, wary still prominent on her features, while Yennefer stares at you. You don't turn away unless you want to give her the impression that you’re lying. Her form becomes less tense but the grip on her dagger remains steady.

“I didn’t like him anyway,” she says, before getting elbowed by Triss. 

“Yennefer!”

You put your knife away, rifling through one of his pockets before pulling out a letter with their insignia on it. Triss seems to believe you a little then, frowning down at the body. 

“I suspect there was a more inconspicuous way to do this,” she says, her forehead crinkled with confusion. 

There was. A simple poison could have done the job effectively but you needed it to be messy. Done by someone clearly not used to the job, taking suspicion off of you. The less eyes the better. Being a hunted down assassin was not fun, and you’d rather blend in than deal with that again. You had already built a rift between some of the key founders of the movement through your earlier kills. There are other members here and any one of them could be blamed for his untimely death.

They look at each other, exchanging glances in the way that you have only seen mages do.  But on the outside, they were still distrustful of you, but they seemed to be content with letting you go. You all looked at each other, nodding in unison to agree to never talk about this again.

You don’t know whether you made friends or foes. Whether they truly believed you or not you would have to see. But for now, you climb out the window and continue on to your next target. The two mages didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the night. 

[sadbackroundguitar]

wHY ARE THERE NO TRISS MERIGOLD X READER I AM THIRSTY AND LONGING PLEASE

[tolietfrog]

Strawberries (Pt. 1) Triss x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1107

a/n: I hope you all enjoy!  I wanted to get this out asap, so I’ve split the story up into two parts (at least). 

You worked diligently in your office, attempting to salvage the remains of a severely burned tome. A customer had brought the book into your shop a couple of days ago, and this was the first moment you had to spare for it. 

It had been an extremely busy fortnight at your shop with Beltane coming up. Mages were flitting in and out, buying whatever supplies they needed for the upcoming holiday. 

You cursed under your breath as one of the pages of the tome practically fell apart with your gentle touch. As you murmured a spell, you watched as the page began to reform itself. Normally, you enjoyed refraining from magic when restoring books, but sometimes there was no choice. 

“Y/N? You in here?” A light voice called as the bell to your shop rang. 

“Just a second!” You gently set the burnt book down on your desk and walked out to the front. 

Standing in front of the counter was a particularly well-dressed Triss Merigold. The sorceress was in a dress, something you didn’t see very often from her. The dress had an extremely low-cut neckline, something you did see often from her, but still brought heat to your face. 

Avoiding just staring at her chest, you brought your gaze up to meet with Triss’. She grinned widely at you and brushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

“What can I help you with today?” You asked pleasantly, tapping your fingers against the counter. 

“I was wondering if I could buy some mugwort bundles? I’m really hoping you haven’t sold out yet!” Triss laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head. 

“Hmm,” You thought for a moment, “I don’t have any more out here, but let me check the back really quickly.” 

You found two extra bundles of mugwort in the back of your shop and brought them out for Triss to take a look at. When you set them down gently on the counter, Triss inspected them closely. 

“Amazing work like always, Y/N!” She grinned, picking up both bundles, “How much for the two?” 

“Fourteen crowns,” You started, leaning against the counter, “but for you, it's on the house!”

Triss’ eyes widened, “No, Y/N, this is your livelihood! You aren’t giving me anything on the house.” 

Triss pushed the bundles of herbs back to you, but you simply set them back closer to her. 

“It’s on the house, Triss. You can repay me some other way,” You brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and turned to go back into your office. 

“Wait!” Triss called. 

You turned, pausing. Triss’ face flushed as you looked at her quizzically.

“There’s an underground party. Tonight, invite only. It’s strictly Sorceresses and Mages. I have a plus one. Do you want to come with me?” Triss spoke quickly, already expecting rejection.

“Sure!” You grinned, your face flushing, “When does it start?” 

“Sunset. I’ll pick you up here?” 

You nodded, and Triss’ smile grew wider. She turned to leave, taking her herb bundles with her. You followed, locking the door being her and flipping your sign to closed. 

With only a few hours until sunset, you immediately began to get ready. A giddy feeling set in your chest and a smile filled your face. 

You rushed up the stairs to your flat above the shop. After quickly stripping down, you waved your hand at your tub and clean, warm bath water appeared. 

As you stepped inside the bath, heat permeated your muscles, instantly relaxing you. You leaned back, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

Triss Merigold had invited you somewhere. 

Triss Merigold, with a face flushed in embarrassment, asked you to go with her to a party. 

You had only seen her in your shop on a few occasions, but every time the woman came in she always smiled and made idle conversation with you. 

Maybe that was why whenever she came in your heart fluttered a bit. You weren’t sure when it started, but it soon became hard to ignore. Now, it seemed simply impossible to ignore.

After finishing rinsing off, you exited the tub and pulled on a robe. Muttering a spell under your breath, you felt a slight blast of heat as your hair dried. 

Opening up your wardrobe, you inspected the clothing you normally wore to special events. Dresses, skirts, and other clothing items littered the section, but nothing caught your eye. This was an underground party, something mysterious and classy. Nothing in your closet held up to those standards. 

You groaned, flopping onto your bed. You laid there for a moment, then frantically sitting up as you remembered a gift from Keira Metz that you had left in the packaging and placed under your bed. 

Rolling off the bed, you crawled underneath it and searched for the box. It was pushed towards the back, the cream packaging still in good condition.

You set the gift down o your bed and gently pulled at the bow on top. Keira had picked this up for you during her travels, and you hadn’t wanted to ruin such a beautiful — and revealing — outfit. 

But now with Triss asking you to go somewhere, it seemed like the perfect time. 

You pulled the lid off the box and gently ran your fingers over the set gifted to you. Silk. Utterly smooth. A marvelous piece of fashion, something that was no doubt expensive. 

You pulled out the dress and slipped it on. It sat snug against your body, the navy blue color working well with your slightly flushed skin.  

Keira had certainly known what she was doing when she picked out this dress for you. Gold thread embroidered the sleeves and traveled up your arms to the plunging neckline of your dress.

You peered back inside the box and found a pair of silk slippers nestled at the bottom with the same threading. Grabbing them, you gently pulled them on your feet. 

A perfect fit. 

You glanced outside, finding that it was almost sundown. A few moments later, after you had pieced together your hair and makeup, you walked downstairs to wait for Triss. 

Almost immediately, a knock sounded at your door. You opened it up, letting Triss Merigold walk inside. 

You felt your face heat up as she looked you up and down, before blushing herself. 

“Y/N… You look wonderful,” She said softly, her eyes inspecting yours, “You ready to go?” 

“Absolutely,” You grinned, following Triss outside your shop and shutting the door behind yourselves. 

As you two walked into the streets of Novigrad, Triss brushed her shoulder against yours, making you shiver.

tagged: @welppotato

[imaginethewitcher]

You know I love fluff but it's time. Time for a bit, a teeeeeeny tiny bit of angst. Dettlaff just has to get one angsty request or else it wouldn't make any sense. SO. I think it should play during the DLC somehow? Maybe. Aaanyway. How about the s/o gets... kidnapped? And Dettlaff and let's say... Triss? are super worried and idk? First how do they react upon finding out about the kidnapping and second finding their s/o. :D Which shape their s/o is in is up to you! I hope this is okay!

First time angst! :DThank you for requesting and doing a mervellous job on editing!

Dettlaff: The party at Orianna’s estatewas well visited. Elegant dresses, exquisite masks, expensive wine, enchantingattractions, visionary painters and poetic bards gifted this most splendidsoiree. You wore a red mask accomplished by golden embellishment, a gift fromDettlaff, together with a lovely invitation. You arrived too early so you satdown by the snacks. From the rich variety of delicacies, you chose a chocolatesoufflé. The warm core of oozing chocolate tasted like the best thing you’veever eaten. While you took the next bite happily, you felt a hand on yourshoulder. In expectation of Dettlaff, you looked over your shoulder, a smilealready forming on your face, only to realize it was a complete stranger. Helooked like every other guest, dressed in silken clothes and an extravagantmask.“Is something to your concern? I’m just a guest here, if you have questionsthen it would probably be better to ask a servant”, you said.“I was looking for someone”, he replied.“I’m sorry, but then you better turn to one of the servants or Lady Orianna. Idon’t think I can help you in that case”, you said slightly annoyed. Youweren’t in the mood for conversation with strangers today.“Actually, I think you can help me very well with my concern”.“Excuse me?”. What was the problem with this guy? Why was he so persistent? Youhoped Dettlaff would be there soon.“I’m looking for someone you seem to know very well”.“And who is that someone, if I may ask?”, you started growing suspicious. Therewas something strange happening.“Are you familiar with a man dressed in a black coat wearing a golden brooch ofan insect?”.It was Dettlaff he was talking about, but what did this person want from him?Dettlaff’s impulsive side might have made him some enemies, however, most of themwere too scared of him to take action, so it mostly stayed by a mere harmlessannoyance.“You must confuse with another person. If you may excuse me, I need to go”,just as you stood up he said something in your direction, something that heshouldn’t be in knowledge of.“His being may deceive most laities, however not everyone. His true appearanceshould better stay hidden, don’t you think? It would be a shame if thisgruesome truth would spread in Toussaint”.“How do you know about this?”, fear started to grow inside of you. The knightswould hunt him and humans would avoid him, seeing nothing more than a beast.“That’s nothing of your interest but if you want him to stay unharmed youshould come with me”.You were hesitating. This was an obvious trap.“What is it you demand from him? Is it money? We don’t have much of it”.“I’ll repeat myself, it’s none of your concern. And now come with me. A soireeis a wonderful occasion to spread the word”.There was no other choice than to follow the stranger. Reluctantly you camewith him to one of the alcoves to wait for Dettlaff.

As Dettlaff showed up to the colourful soiree, the event was already at peak.The melodic music, the scent of various perfumes and flowers and the magicianshowing luminous illusions were admired by many guests. Dettlaff, however, didn’t look out for the different whimsical attractions, butfor his rendezvous this evening.  Knowing you he first went to the tableswith various appetizers, but to his surprise, you weren’t there.‘They wouldn’t be late, they are mostly way too early’, he thought, ‘and Iwould have met them on my way here would they have left the soiree’.He looked around, but couldn’t spot you in the crowd. The mask would have stoodout from the others. Suddenly a servant approached him.“Are you Dettlaff van der Eretein?”, the servant asked.“What if I were?”.“Lady Orianna wants to speak with you. I will bring you to her”.Dettlaff looked up to the large balcony of the estate. Orianna was staring athim with her aloof eyes. There was something wrong, he felt that and had tothink of you. All this seemed odd.“Welcome to my humble establishment. Of all the visitors I expected at such anevent are you the least. Do you enjoy it so far?”, she greeted him in her coldvoice and gave the servant a sign to leave the of two them alone.Dettlaff was never entirely sure what to think of her. He only visited hertwice with Regis but she always had that ominous presence veiling her. Asidefrom her questionable taste in blood.“I don’t have much time for small talk. Why did you call me?”, he saidimpatiently. He wanted to keep looking for you and not waste time with asenseless chatter.“You shouldn’t be too uncouth, especially on such an occasion”, she chuckled,“I know something of your interest”.Now she had his attention.“Your lovely companion seems to be in trouble”.“Did something happen to them?”.“Who knows? It’s one of these spotters of monsters, who are just too motivated.I would have taken care of him myself, but I attract too much attention and itwould be much more romantic when you save your damsel in distress”, she saidwith dramatic gestures.Dettlaff ignored her little play and said through gritted teeth: “I will killthis scoundrel”.“Do what you must, just don’t ruin the evening and the alcove. It’s the secondone on the right side”.

You were waiting now for what felt like hours. The curtain opened.“Finally!”, the stranger said.Dettlaff’s nails grew into sharp talons. He pressed the stranger against thewall with his talons on the man’s throat.“If you hurt them, I will hang you and let you bleed out slowly”, Dettlaffthreatened.“Well, if you kill me everyone will know what a beast you are. I told others tospread the truth should I die this evening”. While his voice still soundeddetermined his eyes said the opposite. Insecurity and fear started to show.“For what? For money? No one will say anything. They are probably already inthe next tavern or town wasting the money”.The stranger gulped, looking at the deadly talons and teeth with despair. Theidiocy of his, previously thought to be glorious, idea became more and moreconscious.“Pl-, Please don’t kill me”.“I’ve heard enough”, Dettlaff replied and swiftly cut the throat. Blood wascoming out of the wound. He turned to you.“Are you alright, my dear? I’m sorry I kept you waiting”.“I’m alright. That guy really seemed ambitioned to receive the glory of aknight, most of which are dead needless to say”.Your words of assurance calmed Dettlaff, “I was worried about you. Most of themare pathetic, some, however, are like merciless monsters”.“Then I’m glad to know, that you will be there to save me”, you smiled, “Let’snot waste the rest of this evening. I still want to dance with you to the musicand enlighten a lamp. They bring luck some say.”

Triss: Today they would do it. Every sorcererwould get imprisoned, killed or worse. You didn’t want any of this. You may notbe a sorcerer, but Triss’ lover - a main target of the fiendish hunt and leaderof the escape. You knew you could be valuable blackmail material and it couldruin the whole plan. She shouldn’t worry that something could happen to you,but you knew her too well as that she would just leave you behind.You were sneaking around the corners of the crooked houses at the Bits. It wasalmost time for your meeting with Triss. The escape plan would soon be broughtto realization.Just as you wanted to creep around the next corner, someone grabbed you frombehind. The person held a tissue soaked with a strange smelling liquid. Youwiggled around and tried to scream, but it was of no use. Suddenly you lostyour sense of sound and seeing. You had to think of Triss and the plan.Everything turned black around you.

Triss pounded her fingertips on the old table in continuous motion. ‘Where arethey? They should be here by now’, she thought.She knew it was dangerous outside, but she also knew your abilities when itcame to sneaking around and not getting caught. That’s one way to survive inthis city after all. Still, she had a weird, almost bad feeling about this.Radovid had patrols in the whole city, while they build the pyres and preparedthe hellish fire. Triss shook her head to chase away these dreadful thoughts.No, she didn’t want to think of this, she didn’t want to think about what wouldhappen to [your name] if you would get caught.Triss waited minute after minute, but no one came. The plan would start soon,she felt insecure without you. She knew it was foul and kept hope you just gotdistracted or needed to take another way. Time was running out, however. Theytold her not to look for you if something would happen, but how could she leaveher most important person behind? She dressed in a brown cloak in order to stayhidden and sneaked out of the house.‘Maybe they are somewhere nearby?’, she asked herself. But there was no one.‘Then maybe in the mages’ hideout. Yes, there they must be’. Everyone else wasthere, but not you.“Did someone see [your name]? I was looking for them the whole time but theywere nowhere to be seen nor met up with me”, she asked in the crowd, hopingsomeone could clear her worried mind.“I saw them”, a voice said. Triss turned around hoping her fears wouldn’t come true, “Where? Where did yousee them?”.“Triss, I’m sorry, but these bastards caught them. They didn’t go to yourhideout, so we should be safe here for now”.“What are we supposed to do now?”, a frightened voice said.Everyone was looking at Triss. Her head generated a million scenarios but whichone was the right one? She couldn’t leave the ones behind who saw in her abeacon of hope, who trusted her. On the other hand, she would lose her beaconof hope. Her legs trembled and on her forehead appeared wet pearls. Whatshouldshe do?“We can’t risk the operation for one person. We will continue as planned”, sheproclaimed. Her voice seemed steady, yet she felt like it was about to break.The mages cheered on their leader. She knew what must be done.“I’m sorry”, she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I will come back to you, please holdon a little longer”.

You woke up in a dark humid room. You were bound to a chair, the tight rope cutin your wrists. You couldn’t see a thing. Where did they bring you? SuddenlyTriss came up in your mind. She should already be in the hideout, at least youhoped so. The escape needed to succeed. What is one life against the lives ofthousands and a victory against the oppressors?You heard heavy footsteps, someone entered the room. You turned your face awayfrom the garish fire of a torch and caught sight of a table next to you full ofcruel instruments.A filthy hand grabbed your face in a rough manner. The man before you wore acoarsely woven mask. You knew these masks from the past when they held executionson the market. The executioners always felt like hollow shells to you, neverlike more. What would happen to you now laid in their hands. They would neverreject an order. This time you wouldn’t be able to talk your way out of this.You wanted to scream but no sound came out of your mouth.“Where are these abominations?”, a rough voice said.You didn’t answer.“Where are they?”, he yelled and slapped you. Your cheek burned.After he realised he wouldn’t get his answer this way, he turned to the abhorrentcollections. You heard a metallic clanking.‘Please don’t act careless, Triss’, you thought to yourself.

“We need to hurry!”, Triss cried to the crowd of mages behind her.They were almost at the harbour with their ship waiting to bring them to a safeplace. The escape proceeded with no complications, but it was still not over.‘They will finally be safe’, Triss thought. She wouldn’t go with them.“There we are. Quickly, go on the ship. There is not much time”, she said.The sails were already set, ready to glide in the water away from the danger.Everyone was on the ship, Triss, however, stayed on the harbour.“What about you?”, someone asked.“I still have something to do here ”, Triss turned around and stretched herhand out in front of her, trying to concentrate her sorcery on finding you. Shefelt a tingling in her hand. She spat out a swear, she knew where you were.Her shape was veiled by prancing lights, letting the silhouette soon fade awayand materialising behind a crude looking figure. The figure turned aroundsurprised by Triss’ emerging from sparks of light. She spotted your unconsciousbody marked with red fresh wounds. A raging fire appeared in Triss’s eyes. Fearappeared in the executioner, his body was shaking.“So we are the monsters and you are the saints”, Triss spoke slowly, “you shallburn”.She cast a storm of fire. The executioner screamed in agony while the hotflames consume his flesh. The humid room turned to a purgatory.The smoke and heat woke you up from your unconsciousness. The flames didn’tscare you, they were familiar to you. The ropes loosened from your burningwrists.“[Your name], are you okay? We will be out of here soon!”, Triss tightlyembraced your body. A feeling of safety awoke in you.“But what about the plan?”, you said in a weak voice.“The plan was a success. Everyone is safe now”.“But you are…”.“We can discuss this later. We need to get away from here first”.Gleaming light wreathed around you, transporting you to the suburban. Triss’firm embrace kept you from falling to the ground. A heavy pain filled yourwhole body, trying to press you down.“I didn’t leave because I couldn’t bear to lose you. If only you could havebeen there sooner, if only…”, you felt a tear dropping on your shoulder.“It’s all right, it’s over now”.You stood there in unison under the shining moon and the glistening stars.