#Ciri makes an appearance!!

[cosmos-coma]

Prey of the Hunt- Chapter 7

A/N: Listen, I edited this when I was pretty tired.... I also wrote this when I was pretty tired... But prepare for overall angst and some Eskel Fluff!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: A new visitor comes to the Keep... and they bear ill tidings.

Chapter 8

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It was a few days after your big talk with the guys that you all were gathered around the dinner table once again. Everyone's body was sore from doing constant construction and you’re pretty sure you've developed the white lung from all the mortar dust you’ve been mixing. 

“How does Vesemir do this all year?” You asked with a cough, surprised that it didn’t come with a puff of dust too.

“I don’t know, but I sure don’t envy it,” Eskel remarked as you took a seat beside him, sliding in until your legs touched his. “You know what's for dinner?” 

You shook your head, “No, but I hope it's something warm… The snow is starting to stick to the ground now and I don't particularly care for the cold.” You huffed in mild annoyance; winter had finally started rearing its ugly head and you were already tired of it. 

Eskel only raised his eyebrow as he looked over at you with an expression that seemed to say ‘really? You’re kidding.’

You nudged him and rolled your eyes playfully, “I mean- If I don't have to deal with the cold I don’t want to. Besides, I think magical cold hits a little differently.” you commented with a shrug.

Geralt raised his hand in a wave as he came over to sit across the table from you both. He also looked a bit tired and maybe bored; you couldn't blame him, this kind of labor isn't exactly on par with their usual work and was probably a lot less exciting than dealing with even the slowest drowner.

“Hey Geralt, do you know what’s for dinner tonight?” You asked him as he brushed away some rubble camouflaged in his hair. 

“No, but I hear it’s Lambert’s night to cook so… warn your stomach.” He said with a bit of a smirk. 

“Stop exaggerating!” Lambert yelled from the kitchen, his Witcher hearing easily picking up on the conversation. “Gods you slightly undercook bear ONCE and everyone becomes a fuckin’ critic….” 

Vesemir came down to join you all shortly and Lambert brought out dinner, which admittedly looked pretty good, but you weren’t gonna give him the pride of telling him that in front of the others. 

Everyone had just started eating when violet light filled the room, stemming from the portal that had opened up across the room. It swirled, idle for a moment before a young woman with green eyes and ashen hair came tumbling through. She rolled onto the floor in her rush to get through and came to a stop just as fast, the portal snapping closed behind her. 

Geralt stood and immediately rushed over to her, “Ciri, what the hell happened?” He asked, arms immediately extending to help her up as his fatherly nature took over. “Y/n, go grab a medical kit…” He half asked half ordered as he looked at you with eyes that held worry, veiled thinly by his stony expression. 

You noticed she did have a sharp and bleeding cut laying just above her pant line, across her hip. Her legs and cheek were littered with other shallower scratches and slashes here and there. You nodded quickly and went off to grab the closest kit as Ciri held up her hand to try and stop you, but you were already gone. 

“I’m fine. Really… Just bruised up is all. Ah- “ She hissed through clenched teeth as she stood with Geralt’s help. “I’m alright, Geralt. I just need a minute.” She assured and sat down on the nearest bench. 

You came back quickly and opened up the kit on the table, cleaning up the open wounds before Geralt followed and bandaged everything up. Once he was satisfied and Ciri had had a moment to catch her breath the other witchers came over to excitedly greet their niece and squeeze about a hundred hugs into the small-framed woman. 

You hung towards the back of the pack as Ciri greeted all of the Witcher’s hellos with a bright smile, despite the obvious bruises she must’ve held below the skin. When they finally stepped back you were able to wave and greet her as well.

“Hello, Cirilla… It’s nice to see you again, I don’t know if you’ll remember me-” 

“Gynvael!” Ciri interrupted you as she exclaimed excitedly and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for a tight hug. 

“You… remember me…?” You looked around at the guys with an expression of mixed surprise and confusion. “Not even Geralt remembered…” 

Ciri sighed with a sense of relief as she finally pulled back and ushered you to sit next to her. “Well Geralt is already bad at  portals, but when we had made our way off Tir na Lia we got separated and I think he must’ve gotten a little lost in the stream between worlds and forgotten everything.” She explained with a nod before looking to you and smiling once again. “But I’m glad to see that you made it out… I’d been wondering about it ever since we left. I always worry about the people I have to leave behind in those worlds…” She stole a glance at Geralt as her tone became morose. 

“Well, I couldn’t have gotten out without your help. I managed to find Ihuarraquax and get a portal home… I mean- It would have been nice to know that I was looking for a fucking horse-”

“Unicorn…” Ciri corrected.

“- a fancy fucking horse.” you corrected further with a light chuckle. “But… thank you. Really.” 

Ciri nodded and smiled in response, patting your back gently- not unlike you had seen Geralt do time and time again. You see now why people instantly recognized them as father and daughter. 

“But speaking of the Wild Hunt…” She said, her words drifting off at the end, “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to everyone about. But first I’m absolutely starving- please tell me it wasn’t Lambert’s night to cook.” 

“My cooking is FINE!” Lambert retorted loudly, causing everyone to burst into laughter, immediately lightening the mood for the moment. 

The group drifted into a looser clump and Ciri had a chance to grab some dinner before another violet portal opened up this time, dispensing a dark-haired woman this time. Her complexion was more bronze than the others, her violet eyes like that of her portals, and the scent of lilacs and gooseberries that seemed to follow her as she walked past. 

“Good heavens… Geralt, I’m starting to understand your disdain for portals. Running through a good twenty or so in a row makes me more nauseous than that pheasant pie you tried to make me for my birthday three years ago.” She grumbled as she held her stomach, doubled over.

“HA!”  Lambert's voice rang out in vindication. 

“Alright, alright- Let's get back on track. Ciri, Yennefer, what happened?” Eskel asked, trying to settle everyone down again. Shortly everyone had taken their seats at the table, ears keen, and the two women could start to tell their story.

“So- I’ve been getting followed by the Wild Hunt lately and I worry that they’re beginning to catch up with me.” Ciri cut to the chase. “I’m lucky Yennefer was with me today or I might not have the head start I do. She opened series upon series of portals to throw them off, dropped me here at the keep, and then kept going to throw them off when they inevitably try to track us.” She shook her head and took a bite of dinner as Yennefer continued. 

“But I only had so much energy to make portals that I wouldn’t be surprised if they show up soon.” She explained with a sigh that teemed with weariness and burden. 

“And if we already have another fugitive,” Ciri pointed out, motioning to you now. “Then it's all the more reason for him to show up. Kill two birds with one stone and all that”.

All tensions were silent but strong around the table, and even you felt it pulling your shoulders tight. The expression the witchers had held grimaces or just plain, tight-lined expressions as you looked around. Everyone understood the gravity that a battle like this would cause- the Wild Hunt chasing you was one thing, but chasing Ciri? That was a whole other game that was bound to have numerous casualties.

“Well, with any luck we should have some time to prepare for whatever comes. Doubtful they’ll show up immediately after they were here just weeks ago.” Vesemir tried to assure with a nod. “But we’ll all take the proper precautions and start getting prepared, which Ciri of course will help oversee because I’m getting far too old for this shit.” He finished in a grumble. 

You almost jumped as Eskel’s hand found yours under the table, your brain having been too caught up in the noise of the situation to be aware. You glanced over at him, carrying a light smile despite your brows being drawn together in worry. You squeezed his hand gently, to which he responded in kind, both of you being able to ease some of the tension from your shoulders. Your head had swirled with events of the past, present, and future as you listened to Ciri- but the weight of Eskel’s palm in your lap now dispelled that foggy vortex for the time being.  

“As for the preparations-” Vesemir spoke up again, “Lambert, I want you on bombs. Eskel, you're on traps. Ciri, I want you to ensure the weapons and armor are up to standards. Add glyphs as you see fit.” He nodded to each of them, then turned to you, Geralt, and Yennefer. “Geralt, Yennefer, I want the two of you gathering as many reinforcements as you can- anybody whose willing to help is welcome. Y/n, you’ll be with me making as many potions as we can before time is up.” He directed to the rest of you, receiving nods all around. “Anyone who feels like they've finished early can help wherever else is needed.”

Dinner was fairly quiet for a while after that- only picking up when you introduced yourself to the sorceress known as Yennefer. But even that dwindled off into fewer and fewer words after a while. 

After dismissing yourself, you and your witcher made your way back to his room, hands held in one another as you quietly bumped shoulders. Softly, Eskel closed the door behind him and let out a sigh that could rival the weariness of Atlas himself as he carried the world on his shoulders. 

He ducked past you to light the room’s fire, granting the dim room a gentle warm light. 

“Eskel…” You whispered his name as you rested one hand on his shoulder. Your other hand came up slowly, with no sudden movements, to cup his scarred cheek. “Look at me..?” 

Slowly his feet shuffled, his body turning to face you now. Your palm pressed against his cheek, fingers extending naturally along the groves of his face. A content rumble vibrated from his chest as he turned onto your palm.

You couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto your features as you watched him. Your thumb brushed over the corner of his lips with a loving touch, going over the notch in his smile an extra time or two. 

“I can see you're overwhelmed, Eskel. You carry it in your shoulders- we both do…” you spoke to him, with a voice that was as tender as the night was quiet. 

He let out another breath and tried to relax his shoulders once again, even if he knew it was a temporary fix. 

“It’s okay if you can’t push it all away right now, I know I won’t be able to either.” You used your hand to bring him down a little closer to your level and rested your forehead against his.

“You shouldn’t have to be the one consoling me right now.” His low voice rumbled out, but he made no move to pull away- instead, he brought his hands to now rest on your hips.

“Eskel..” you frowned slightly, “don’t think like that. I’m going to be here for the times that you need someone, okay? Just like you've been there for me this whole time”. You looked down as you reflected for a quick moment, “and I’m eternally grateful for that. I know I’ve been rather… slow moving with things like- well, like this.” you said and motioned between the two of you. “But you never stopped standing beside me, holding my hand, even with all of my confusion and lost memories. Hell- you still held my hand when I  admitted to being a rider of the hunt. A murderer! A raider!”

“Y/n, no-” Eskel tried to interrupt, but you laid a finger across his lips, shaking your head.

“I won’t deny it, Eskel. Willing or unwilling, I recognize what I did… But that's beside the point- You’ve been so patient ever since you met me and I-” You paused again a moment, finding courage instead of words this time. “If all goes well when the Hunt comes… If it’s okay, I’d like to walk the path with you come springtime, just as you've walked my journey with me- hand in hand.” Your cheeks blazed with heat and color as you confessed to him your hopes of staying by his side. 

Eskel’s face was wrought with surprise and a genuine full smile, his shoulders even easing into their natural relaxed position as he became momentarily distracted by all that had just come before. “Y/n, I- Well, I mean- Uh… can I kiss you?” He somewhat sputtered out, his thoughts moving faster than his mouth could.

You broke out into a quick bout of laughter, shocked by his question, and nodded, your forehead still against his. “As long as it's a yes, then, of course, you can,” you replied, barely getting the last few words out as Eskel’s lips pressed firmly against your own. Your slightly chapped winter lips met the same as your breaths mingled for moments that you wouldn’t have traded the world for. 

He had a small smile now as he pulled back, still close enough that your noses just brushed together. “I would love to have you on the path with me, Y/n….” he spoke, leaning in for one more quick and chaste kiss before he fully pulled back. “You have more than enough training to hold your own against most monsters and you're smart enough- and determined enough- to figure out how to handle the rest for sure.” He laughed a bit, looking down as he captured your hand in his. “I’m… I’m excited not to walk the path alone anymore, admittedly.” He brought your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles as well, seemingly needing to get out some of the physical affection he’d been holding back.

A lightness sparkled in your eyes as you watched him and you couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled in your throat. “Me too…” You let your thumb caress his cheek once more before dropping your hand back to your side, “let's lay down now… our worries can wait until morning.”

You and Eskel went about your nighttime routine like any other night, only this time with more grazes here and there as you two bumped into each other's paths- just as you had that fateful day.

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Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @weaponizedvirtue @madamemelancholysstuff

Wanna be added/taken off the taglist? feel free to DM or ask!

#Ciri makes an appearance!! #gosh i love her #hehehe i love seeing you and eskel be all sweet and stuff when the wold is coming down around you. #its cute #eskel #Witcher Eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #angst #a bit- in a general sense #eskel imagine #the witcher 3 #the witcher #game eskel #Lambert gets picked on and gets vindication #the witcher fanfiction #The witcher fic #witcher self insert #Self Insert

[criticalrolo]

having thoughts about the Witcher Daemon AU...

In this universe witcher daemons have their own Paths and get turned into witchers themselves before settle, so they basically take off and reunite with their humans in the winter when the season ends. This means most people believe witchers are monsters without daemons, and the witchers don't ever correct them for the same reasons they let everyone believe they don't have emotions. It's a strange sort of protection for them and their daemons' vulnerabilities.

Jaskier's daemon is a cedar waxwing named Meilasenka, and she may be the chattiest daemon to ever exist. Meilas is extremely bold about talking directly to other humans, and absolutely thrives when she's getting attention. Waxwings are highly migratory and adaptable, meaning she and Jaskier have been prone to Roaming since they could walk, looking for adventure and the chance to perform all around the continent.

Geralt's relationship with his daemon Alindola is a bit more strained. The two only see each other during the winter and don't really know how to integrate back together since their severance decades ago. Witcher daemons maintain their adaptability and can transform into whatever animal is the most optimal along the Path, but Alindola mainly stays in the shape of a massive white wolf. Ever since the second round of trials they endured, all of her forms have been albino. The prominent scars across her nose and flank carry over across her different forms as well.

#the witcher #witcher daemon au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #catch me out here finding proto baltic slavic root words to make a name that means sweet song after like forty minutes of research #and then. this is so on the nose. but a dola is a creature in slavic mythology #that appears in an animal form as a guardian of fate and destiny #so. obviously that had to work its way in somehow LMAO #i'll do ciri and yennefer next!!

[cjcdeeezy]

The Queen 👸🏾 said Game Time

#bb25 #Cirie Fields #I hope her other buffs make an appearance

[lesbianladyeboshi]

So yall are telling me the first lgbtq character and relationship actually portrayed in Netflix Witcher is Eredin? King Of The Wild Hunt Ereden Breacc Glass?

HE?

#Philippa Eilhearts 1 second appearance where she SERVED and Luca in that bad anime didn't count as clear #Eredin Breaking the Glass ceiling... #I spoke this into existence and I will not apologize tho I didn't realize it was a prophecy" #god I wish that show could make it to mediocre..... #while I have my prophecy power: Francesca and Ida r lesbians. Sile De Tansarville prefers the company women the lodge shall thrive #Geralt/Regis endgame Ciri is also gay and Philippa is immortal. Tissaia was playiny the long game and also is gay

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Soul

Summary: When tragedy strikes, Geralt of Rivia seeks comfort in the arms of one woman.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: PG - Abandonment Issues, Child Abandonment, Fluff Parental Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Bathing, Love Confession, Soft!Geralt, Character's Death

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

Geralt rode Roach hard, only deviating from his path to guide the powerful black horse around a tree or rock. He gripped the worn brown reins tightly, feeling them cut into the top of his bare hands as he urged Roach to move faster, foam already starting to gather around his bit. The Witcher's mind raced, desperately trying to push down the power of the news he received from a good friend, while trying to help someone he'd found on the job. He struggled for a few days, trying to push it down, telling himself it didn't hurt.

She had left him almost a century ago, at this point.

Witchers had no emotions, he told himself, as a means to drive them back. It didn't work however, the emotions continued to smash into him.

So, he left in the dead of night, not a word to Anika, Otto, or even Jaskier, of where he was going or why. Though, he was sure Anika would know why. Geralt covered almost a whole league by the end of morning, cutting through the forest outside of Murivel, until he reached a modest clearing and an even more modest, three-room hut constructed in the middle of it, a stone and clay well on the left side, the bucket swaying softly in the breeze.

Roach came to a hard stop, hooves cutting deep grooves in the grassy earth, with Geralt wasting no time in dismounting the stallion and stomping across the yard to the front door. His sore and broken heart rose up with hope that it would swing open and the face of the one he was seeking would appear, to greet him. But, the door didn't open to him, instead he was greeted another way.

“Geralt!” A soft and confused voice called out.

He swung around on his boot heels, his golden eyes zeroing in on you as you stood just passed the tree-line, a basket of herbs and mushrooms balanced on your hip, as you regarded the Witcher. You hadn't seen Geralt in over a year, since he decided he needed to go to Cintra to make sure Ciri was safe from the sea of black and gold he'd seen on the Amell Pass. After the Dragon Hunt. You had heard the thunder of the new Roach's hooves coming up the path to your home, while you were gathering in the forest, and came to see who it was. You were surprised to see Geralt in general, but you were worried by how rushed he seemed.

“Geralt, what's amiss?” You asked, coming to close the gap between you. “Are you well?” You inquired, seeing the unusually deep crease between his brow and across his forehead, and how his complexion was paler, almost matching his hair.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together for a moment, working up the strength to speak. “I need you.” He finally rasped, his expression breaking into something soft and vulnerable.

“You rode all the way from wherever, just for time with me?” You smirked, tisking.

“Please.” Geralt replied, reaching out to grasp your free hand and squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his expression breaking even more.

You frowned at him, all jest dying inside of you, seeing his wall fall before you and the pain he was being crushed underneath. “Let's go inside.” You whispered softly, tilting your head towards your door.

Nodding, Geralt reached out for your basket, but shaking your head and swatting it away gently, you pushed the front door open and put your hand on his arm, guiding him inside. You set your basket on a large table and turned towards the just as large fireplace, grabbing wood from the dog grate and tossed it in. Building it back up, sparks flying up the chimney. You moved to Geralt, who stood motionless beside the table, taking his hand and guided him over to the chair at the head of the table, gently coaxing him to sit down, then knelt before him. Grabbing the heel of his boot and his calf, you tugged the muddy, black leather off and set it underneath the table, followed by its twin. There was dust and mud covering his black clothing. You brushed your palm over his knee and thigh, casting some of it off, before standing up again and starting for the next room, only to have Geralt grasp your wrist and pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face into your chest, and breathed deep.

You frowned at him, sympathetically brushing your fingers through his hair and pulling it free of its usual tie, his white strands cascading over his shoulders. You nosed the top of his head, caressing the back of his hair and squeezing his bicep, still confused as to why he was there and what was ailing him so much.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his strands. “Tell me, what's happened?” You asked, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “Did you not make it to Ciri in time? Has something happened to her or Jaskier?” You inquired, licking your lips as your heart thundered against his forehead. “I noticed that isn't the Roach you had the last time you were here.” You pointed out, remembering the sweet Chestnut you used to feed and brush, when Geralt stayed with you, but now there was a sturdy black stallion standing in your dooryard.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, they're both fine.” He rasped, turning his head to rest his temple against your collarbone. “As for the last Roach, she was killed by a Chernobog, a few months ago.” He added, softly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Then, what's the matter with my Wolf?”

He was still and quiet again, for a long time, his fingers restlessly toying with the strings at the back of your bodice, before suddenly standing with you still in his arms, and turning to sit you on the chair in his place. He went out the door, rounding the house to the well and dropped the bucket to the bottom. You watched Geralt come back inside with each bucket, holding it in one hand, like it was the weight of one of his swords. Pausing in the open doorway and giving you a hard stare every time, as if he expected to find you moved off the chair or vanished completely. Only then, did he go to your large cauldron, dumping the full bucket in and returning back outside for another.

“Are you going to tell me, what's the matter, Geralt?” You asked, your concern only mounting with his bizarre behavior and irregular moodiness.

“Nothing.” He grunted harshly, setting the cauldron over the fire to boil.

“That's a lie.” You answered, just as sharply, being one of the few people on the Continent brave enough to talk back to the White Wolf in such a manner; other than Jaskier and Ciri. “You wouldn't have come from the bum fuck of Nilfgaard to see me, if something wasn't bothering you.” You insisted, glaring at his back.

Geralt ignored you, heading towards the back rooms of your home and leaving you more worried and annoyed at his behavior. He came back a few minutes later with no shirt on, and your suspicions on his task were answered. Despite what the people of the great Continent thought of Geralt of Rivia, he did not in fact like smelling of death, blood and horse. When he stopped for the winter at Kaer Morhen or with you, he bathed regularly. He just found it more a nuisance to do so while on the Trail, since the next Contract or sleeping rough would only dirty him up again.

Pulling the roiling cauldron off the fire, Geralt carried it to the large, soaking tub you boosted in your bathroom. He filled it almost to the brim, before adding in Lavender and Sage bath salts to the steaming water. A fragrant haze filled the room as he tugged his pants off and tossed them over a chair in the corner. He strode out of the bathroom, returning to you, still sitting where he'd left you. He took your hand and helped you stand, untying the strings of your bodice and tugging down your dress, so it pooled around your feet, before slipping his arm under your knees and an arm around your shoulders, scooping you up against his chest.

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he carried you to the bathroom. “I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, as he stepped into the tub, lowering you both into it.

“And I, you.” Geralt replied, holding you in his lap and resting back. “Ciri and Jaskier are well, by the way.” He said, his fingertips stroking the skin of your side, beneath the water. “Ciri is being watched over by Yennefer, who's helping her try and control her magic and Jaskier was with Anika, last I left him.”

“Anika?” You frowned, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Why is Julian with Anika? If he's well.”

Geralt's thick, scarred arms squeezed around you, almost painfully, making you squirm in his lap. “You remember my mother.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Visenna.” He said so quietly, you had to strain to hear it.

“Yes, I recall you telling me of her, a few years after we met.” You murmured, seeing the strained expression on his face. “And that you'd seen her at Sodden Hill. She healed you, after the ghoul bite.”

“I remember bits of my life with my Ma.” He rasped, his grasp on you loosening, but he still held you close to him. “She smelled like embers, from keeping our measly fires alive during the long nights.” He told you, the crease between his golden eyes slowly vanishing as he went back to that time, tapping into that abandoned little boy, he had never grown out of, but skillfully concealed from those he didn't cherish. “We were quite poor, even though she was skilled as a healer. So, she-” He paused, his voice thickening and his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You looked up at him, seeing the redness in the whites of his eyes and the unshed tears threatening on his lashes. It frightened you to see the Witcher like this. In the fifteen years you'd known him, you'd seen him in many states, but you had never seen Geralt cry. Reaching up, you cupped his scruffy cheek in your hand and thumbed a droplet away, pressing your lips to his jawline.

“She would use her magic to create the most elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.” He continued, tilting his head into your hand. “There was—I would have done anything to make her smile. And yet,” He voice broke again, this time with more than just hurt and abandonment, but with resentment. “The day she left me, she was sick. She needed some water, so I went to get her some, and when I came back to the road...she was gone.” He croaked, pushing his jaw forward and shaking his head, trying to deny the burn of more tears.

His fingertips pressed into the skin of your side and back. “I called for her.” He said weakly, his golden eyes off in the distance. “But she was gone.” He whimpered, the tears finally winning out, dripping off his jaw and into your hair and the bath water.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his neck and hugging your arms around his torso. You had known Visenna had abandoned Geralt. He had told you that bluntly not long after you had met. The torture of her leaving him there, to be taken away to Kaer Morhen, where he'd suffered such agony in his transformation into a Witcher, at just five years old, coupled with the pain he never got over with his mother.

You wondered how Geralt had survived at all.

But no, Geralt was strong, even from a young age.

“She's dead.”

You pulled out of your thoughts, shocked. “She's dead?”

“She was giving aid to some villager and was mistaken as an Elf.” Geralt told you, bringing a hand out of the water to wipe it over his face. “They beat her severely and she later died, at the Temple of Mourning, where Anika was. Which is how I found out.”

“I'm so sorry, Geralt.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, connecting the dots to his arrival. “I hope the two of you were able to make some sort of easement between you, when you last met.”

Geralt pressed his lips together and buried his face into your hair, his throat too tight to speak in the moment. He considered how he and Visenna last met, in the forest outside of Sodden Hill, as he laid feverish and hallucinating from a Ghoul bite to the leg. After saving a poor Merchant, who was trying to bury the dead from a camp Nilfgaard had attacked. At first, she had tried to conceal her identity from him, pretending to be Renfri, Yennefer and finally, you, before he managed to discover who it really was. Triggered by her belief that, People linked by Destiny, will always find each other.

He asked her what she thought of his eyes. Demanding to know, if she knew what they did to improve a Witcher's eyes. Telling her that it didn't always work. She had begged him to stop. Calling him by his name, only for Geralt to reject her right to do so, like she had rejected him. He had begged to know if she knew how many boys actually made it through the Trials. Tears filled both of their eyes as they stared at each other in the darkness.

In the end, his Ma had left him, again, fading into the night, trying to convince him she was just a dream and he would never get the answer he wanted.

So, had he made peace with his mother abandoning him, forcing him on the Path of the Witcher?

No. Geralt decided in the end, he had not.

The only thing Geralt did know was he wanted you. You were the first person he had thought of, upon finding out about his mother's death. Wanting to feel you against him and needing the comfort only you were able to provide. You shifted out of Geralt's lap, moving around him, while reaching over the side of the tub, grabbing the small cup that sat on the foot board there. Dipping it into the water and gently pouring it over Geralt's silvery-white strands, you set aside and took up a round, solid bar of honey and chamomile scented soap, using it to work his hair into a rich lather. Geralt moaned, feeling your fingers massage his scalp, resting forward to prop his elbows on his bent knees, eyes falling shut.

“I love you.” He murmured, quietly.

You stopped, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “You've never said that before.” You said, looking around at him, mouth softly agape.

“No?” Geralt rasped, cocking a brow over his shoulder at you.

“Not once, in all these years.” You assured him, your hand gently massaging the scarred muscle of his neck.

He turned to you, causing the cooling water to slosh over the edge. “Then, I have a great deal of making up to do.” He cooed, reaching out to cup your face in his rough palm. “Because I do. I love you. Out of everyone, besides perhaps Jaskier and Vesemir, you know me better than anyone, and no one has ever taken better care of me than you have.” He told you, his face betraying the emotions a Witcher truly had, but guarded for their most treasured person, and not those of an abandoned child, rather those of a man in love.

“I love you too, Geralt.” You assured him, turning your head to kiss his hand. “And I will always care for you, me bleidd.” You whispered, picking up the cup to continue washing his hair.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt #witcher #A Witcher's Soul #A Witcher's Soul *fic* #hurt/comfort #Geralt of Rivia x You #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt of Rivia Fluff #Angst #Fluff #Visenna #Geralt's Ma #Character Death #major character death

[echo-bleu]

While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #faceblindness #i'd like to have a spotter too please #i used to work at a library and when people came in after lunch #i had no idea if they'd been in that morning #i'd say hello and they'd be like uh i was here earlier #echo's fanfiction

[annmarcus63]

I've always love the idea of game Geralt x series Jaskier.

Here's an idea. While training, Ciri's powers went out of control sending Game!Geralt to the Series!The witcher universe. Game Geralt meets Jaskier and Geralt. The pair agree to help him get to Kaer Morhen, since when Ciri comes looking for him, she would look there first.  Here's a soulmate story, a thread with two ends. Geralt doesn't want him, but someone else might.

"Are there ....soulmates...in your world?" They are sitting in front of a small bonfire where a boar leg is getting cooked. The sunset shimmer has blue and purple shades that rain on them. The Geralt from another universe (Jaskier calls him BeardGeralt and BeardGeralt likes it cause it sounds like bear, like a...pet name) tilts his head towards him, showing he has his entire attention.

"I don’t think so."

“Oh” BeardGeralt smiles, his handsome face lighting with barely concealed fondness that shows every time they talk in private. His Geralt, the real Geralt, is currently brushing off Roach trying to appear as if he's not listening to their conversation. "Disappointed, are you?" Jaskier snorts.

"No really. Actually I'm relieved my counterpart doesn't have one, it wouldn't be fair, to me I mean."

"Then you'll be glad to know he's goddamn miserable. Couldn't catch a single fly." Jaskier's face lights up like a child on their name day. "Egotistical and malicious. You share those with Dandelion" adds BeardGeralt without a trace of judgment or anger, only amusement.

"But more handsome" says Jaskier with a wink, BeardGeralt gives him an appreciative look, a slight smile hidden under his beard. Jaskier has been feeling this tension between them. Not entirely sexual per se but more, something mysterious that's calling them. He has always flirt with his Geralt but he has never responded, has never been interested, but It's not the same with BeardGeralt and it feels nice, to be wanted for once, for more than a quick fuck. He must also admit that it is nice to hold the interest of one Geralt, even if it's not his, his soulmate. It shows him in a way that destiny wasn't wrong with them, that Jaskier could have been wanted by his soulmate, at least in another universe. That they could have been happy together. 

"He's happy. He's with Priscilla" BeardGeralt says calmly, looking at the fire briefly. Jaskier tries to remember if he has known a Priscilla, he hasn't.

“Bastard” Jaskier throws his arms in the air in melodramatic surrender. He's not upset, not really, he's glad his duplicate from this other universe in which soulmates don’t exist is happy, but that doesn't make him any less of a lucky bastard. After all his biggest competition has always been himself, this Dandelion is him, so, yeah it feels like a competition. One that Jaskier is losing. 

Jaskier is so immersed in his own reasoning that he gets caught up when BeardGeralt asks in a cautious voice "Where's yours?"

"My what?"

“Soulmate” And that's the thing, isn't it? He has a soulmate and a mark on his forearm to prove it and that soulmate is, in fact, a few meters from them tending to his horse.

There must be something in his expression, a dull compliance that has woven, somehow, on his heart (and people says the eyes are the windows of the heart), because the other Geralt dawns on the fact that Geralt from this world is Jaskier's soulmate. 

And suddenly his Geralt is there, in front of them whelling the leg above the fire "It's burning" he growls looking up and meeting BeardGeralt’s eyes. Cat-like eyes, they both have beautiful eyes, they're the same and so unique at the same time, apart from each other. His Geralt is younger, he has a soul of one who still hasn't found how to live with pain and self-hatred. BeardGeralt is older, the kind of good wine older, he has a soul of one who has learned to live with all of it, he’s wiser and is full of quiet regret.

The witchers are speaking with their eyes, two predators speaking the same language. They stop the staring contest after a few seconds. The other Geralt doesn't ask again and Jaskier is relieved. Later, when the moon is glowing in the sky and they're trying to sleep, Jaskier thinks of how warm BeardGeralt feels next to him, it's cold so they're sleeping close to each other and wonders what it would be to be loved by him.

I'm posting this here again with small changes

If you want to read more let me know

love u

#the witcher #geraskier #the witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geralt x jaskier #What if BeardGeralt has a dandelion on his body #BeradGeralt thinks Jaskier is so extravagant and flamboyant and ridiculous and #chilsdish and generous and caring and beautiful and perfect and oh my gad is he in love? #SeriesGeralt is jealous as fuck #Jaskier deserves love

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Care to go up against me, Princess?"

Ciri looked over from where she'd been whacking seven shades out of the training dummy to where Lambert's cat, (' Aiden', her brain supplied), was leaning against the wall. She was sure he hadn't been there a minute ago.

"Why?" She asked warily, Geralt's warnings about cat Witchers coming to mind.

Aiden shrugged, "Everyone else is busy and I'm bored. Vesemir gave me the okay to oversee your training for the day. Would go and bother Lambert but learnt the hard way not to do that when he's playing with his bombs. It gets messy, and not in a fun way."

Jaskier, who had been sat bundled up by a brazier watching (read: babysitting. Ciri wasn't stupid), snorted a laugh.

"You can tell me to piss off and I can see about trading with Eskel or Coen. I won't be offended" Aiden offered with an open smile. He'd recognised Vesemir's olive branch straight away but he wasn't about to use it to make the young cub uncomfortable.

She looked between him and Jaskier, the bard merely shrugging as Ciri mulled it over. He couldn't possibly be that bad if Vesemir had allowed him to stay and with Jaskier sat right there and Eskel just in the stables, she wasn't technically alone with him…

"Alright. But just a quick spar."

Aiden's smile grew.

"Don't be afraid to move." Aiden said, leaning on his wooden training sword, Ciri stood bent double as she heaved for breath, aching and frustrated from the multiple hits Aiden had managed to land on her whilst she'd barely touched him, "You keep coming at me full frontal like that you're basically painting a target on yourself. It became predictable, which means it became dangerous."

Ciri straightened up indignantly, "The wolves are always telling me-"

"No offence to the wolves." Aiden interrupted gently, "But they're all over six feet tall and built like brick shithouses. Brute strength and stubbornness works for them. They can take the hits and keep on coming. You, unfortunately, are a bit more breakable." He very lightly poked her in the belly with the end of his sword, "But you're also small and fast. Use that."

He tilted his head thoughtfully, "If you like, I can show you some basics from my school that might benefit you."

"You mean how to fight dirty?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them. To her relief (and confusion) though, Aiden merely laughed in response.

"Is it fighting dirty if it's against something trying to kill you? And out of the two of us, which one has more bruises right now?"

He replaced the training sword and picked up the coat he'd discarded earlier, shaking the snow free, "Again you're free to say no, but the offer stands. You too, if you like." He said looking towards Jaskier, or more specifically, the small dagger at his belt as he made to leave, "I'm curious if you can actually use that."

"Wait."

Aiden stopped, waiting for Ciri to continue.

"Learning a couple of things couldn't hurt. Could it?"

Geralt smiled as he made his way back through the gates. The sun has almost set and with how treacherous the mountain could be, he knew the sensible thing would have been to hunker down and make his way back in the morning but after three days, he was too eager to see both his bard and his girl. His excitement was short-lived as the sight that greeted him at the other end of the courtyard had him immediately seeing red. Jaskier sprawled on his ass on the ground, Aiden with his back to Geralt but he spotted a very familiar head of blonde hair peeping over his shoulder as Ciri appeared to be struggling in his hold. the pommel of a sword in the hand which wasn't restraining her. Fucking bastard! He knew he should have given in and allowed the two of them to accompany him on the hunting trip!

Abandoning Roach and the game she was carrying, Geralt unsheathed his sword and charged.

"Aiden!"

Jaskier's yell came a second too late as he realised what Geralt was intending. Witcher reflexes meant Aiden was able to move quickly to drop the sword and shove Ciri away from him but not quickly enough to avoid a blow to his shoulder as the white haired Witcher roared furiously, "Get the fuck away from them!"

Aiden immediately dropped to his knees, as he turned to face Geralt, trying to look as non threatening as possible with one hand pressed to his now bleeding shoulder.

"Geralt, no !"

"What the fuck, Geralt?!"

"What the hell is going on out here?" Eskel yelled as he emerged from the stables, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming mixed scents of anger, confusion and fear.

"Eskel. Go get Vesemir." Geralt growled, not taking his eyes off Aiden.

"No need." The Witcher in question appeared next to Jaskier, drawn out of the main hall by the sudden noise. He offered Jaskier a hand up as he took in the scene, "What is happening here?"

"I found the Cat threatening Ciri with a sword."

"You mean this sword?" Jaskier asked moving forward to pick up the wooden blade and waving it in Geralt's face, "We were training, nothing more."

"By whose leave?" Geralt demanded before turning to Eskel, "And you! Where the hell were you when they needed you!"

"Hey!" Eskel snapped, "I've been in the stables since they started this morning. You really think I wouldn't have intervened if I'd heard anything untoward? Which. I. Didn't. They were never in any danger."

" Aiden!" Lambert came running towards them, panicked by the scent of blood and the sight of Aiden on the ground, "What is your fucking problem!" He yelled, squaring up to Geralt, "The old man put him in charge of Ciri's training for the day, he wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to be!"

"Forgive me if I don't take you at your word given your attachment. I don't want Ciri learning anything from him. "

Aiden was marginally surprised that Geralt didn't spit on him for emphasis.

" Enough!" Vesemir barked in a tone he knew would immediately bring his pups to heel, "Everyone inside. Now! Eskel, take Ciri and help Coen in the kitchen. Lambert, see to Aiden. Geralt, with me."

Read the rest on my A03!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert #aiden whump #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt #witcher jaskier #jaskier

[hyperbali]

For the ~full appearance of the Lady Rue...

who did not have to work hard to look like that but I most certainly fuckin did

Unique Tav Custom Appearance

Tav's Hair Salon

Tav's Hair Mixer

Kay's Hair Extensions

Astralities' Hair Color Supplement

Astralities' Fantasy Skintone Expansion

Smoother Female Tiefling Bodies 1 and 2

Landscaping Options (I wanted the piercings lol)

New Character Creation Presets WIP

Horns of Faerun

Eyes of the Beholder

CovenElf's Tattoo and Makeup Collection

Piercing Edits

Trips' Accessory Collection

Ghouls Vanilla Piercing Recolors

Modular Equipment (this is the main one you're gonna want for that fit)

Ciri's Clothes

Basket Full of Equipment

Extra Dyes For The Fashionable Folk of Faerun

I have... many many many more, but these are strictly for her appearance as you see here! I can probably make up a spreadsheet or something if people want my full mod list.

#ranger-kickass #reply #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #tav #mods #rue

[thedemonofcat]

In the vast forest that enveloped Lettenhove, a symbiotic bond thrived between its people and a community of Nymphs. These ethereal beings aided the villagers in their harvest, receiving offerings of milk and honey in return.

Among the Nymphs was Jaskier's mother, making him a unique blend of human and Nymph heritage. Despite his seemingly human appearance, Jaskier shared an innate connection with nature.

The invasion of Lettenhove by Nilfgaard brought forth a ruthless destruction of the forest to fuel their war machine. The nymphs faced imminent peril, and Jaskier, linked to the trees, suffered as his homeland was ravaged.

As Jaskier's health deteriorated, Geralt, consumed by concern for the ailing bard, joined forces with Yennefer and Ciri. Together, they embarked on a perilous mission to save Jaskier's tree from the merciless onslaught threatening Lettenhove and the Nymphs' existence.

#the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #joey batey #the witcher #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #the witcher non human jaskier #nymph jaskier #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #anya cholatra #the witcher season 3 #anya chalotra #the witcher season three #witcher yennefer #lettenhove

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

warnings: angsty (?), aemond is a bookworm and a worried father, alyssa couldn't care less about old lady vhagar, they both have trouble with their feelings about each other.

author's note: i really love alymond's relationship. they're top tier enemies to lovers and i'm living for them. also, the face claim for alyssa is freya allen as ciri in the witcher, so picture her with silver hair and violet eyes.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @useraelin

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Alyssa always had trouble sleeping. Is something Daemon had, and passed it on to his favorite child.

On these sleepless nights, the young princess would find distraction in old pages from the old books on the old shelves at the library inside the Keep.

Her favorite place in the castle, Alyssa had great memories there, where her father taught her high-valyrian, where she used to play hide from her septa, and where she would find refuge from insomnia.

What she did not know is that Prince Aemond shared the same feelings about the library. The place where he had studied his whole life, to be better and smarter than everyone else.

So she wasn't expecting to find the Prince's slim figure, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

Blushing, Alyssa gulped, quite startled by the sight of her cousin. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch, and his sapphire glowed in the firelight.

She had a full view of the scar she gave him.

They had not seen each other since they shared a kiss, four days ago.

"I believe the hour of the owl is not up for little girls to be out of bed." Aemond muttered, too focused on his book.

"Fuck off, Aemond." The princess retorted, and went in search of a book.

When she found one she was familiar with, she wandered around the room, looking for a warm place to sit, but none was better than the empty armchair by the fireplace, beside Prince Aemond.

"You can sit here, I won't bite." He voiced in a murmur, and his eye never left the old page he read, to look at the princess.

Alyssa sat on the armchair, and stared at the cover of the book without saying a word.

Perhaps the princess thought that ignoring her cousin would make the moment less awkward, but it didn't.

It wasn't very often that Aemond was seen without his eyepatch, and she tried hard not to stare.

She thought he was already gorgeous, but that precious stone that replaced his eye made him look something more.

"What are you reading?" The princess asked lowly.

"Now you want to do small talk?" Aemond cocked an eyebrow as his smirk threatened to make an appearance.

Alyssa tsked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm reading a chapter about the life expectancy of dragons. Vhagar is not getting any younger, and if something happens to her..."

"Didn't Balerion die at 200 and something? Isn't Vhagar like... 180?" The princess questioned.

"181." Aemond corrected.

"Gods, that thing is really old." Alyssa mocked, playing with her fingers.

Aemond finally turned his head to face her. His sapphire glowed to the firelight, the beautiful shade of blue contrasting with the prince's pale skin tone.

"She's the last living piece from the conquest. You should pay some respect."

Alyssa scoffed, "Aemond, she's a living burden. She's as slow as she's big. You should hope she dies so you can claim a better dragon. Maybe the wild ones will let you tame–"

Aemond slammed his hand against the arm of the chair, offended by the princess' idea.

"You have no idea what it’s like to be dragonless! They're what makes us what we are! Dreams didn't make us kings, dragons did!" Aemond closed the book in his hands harshly.

"I–" The princess frowned. She was quite hurt that her words actually affected him. "I am sorry, Aemond. It wasn't my intention to make you angry."

Aemond sighed, staring at the book resting in the princess' hands. She had not opened that book once since she took it out of it's shelf.

"What is yours about?" Aemond nodded at the book. Alyssa followed his direction to her hands.

"Tales of Old Valyria." She murmured, "It's my favorite book."

"Oh. I've read this one. It's m– hm, It's really good." Aemond bit his lip, turning his back to her and facing the fire.

They stayed in silent for a couple of minutes, but there was nothing comfortable about it. It was awkwardly strange, and Alyssa still felt bad for mocking Vhagar.

And she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and how Aemond's soft lips felt against hers.

And how handsome he is without his eyepatch.

And his scar... the one made by her hands. She felt bad about that, for the first time. They were just children. Stupid children, she thought.

"I'm sorry."

Aemond half turned to her. He wondered if she was really talking to him, and what she felt sorry about.

"I– I'm sorry about your eye." Alyssa whispered, her voice could barely be heard.

Aemond chuckled softly, "You're a few years late, Alyssa."

It took him a few seconds before he added;

"I'm sorry about your cat."

The princess smirked, staring at the man in front of her.

Aemond was so different from what he normally looked like.

His hair was tied in a low ponytail, and it rested on his shoulder.

He wore linen clothes, like he was off to bed. And yet there he was, in front of her. Both alone, in the library, during the late hours.

And to the fire that warmed the space around them, Alyssa was sure he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"You're a few years late, Aemond."

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Broken Heart

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Language, violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 16-

After sneaking away from Jaskier and Prince Radovid, you fell back asleep in the cabin with Ciri and awoke a few hours later at dawn.

The sun peeked in through the window across the room. The light beaming past the faded yellow curtains and shining directly at you causing you to squint, raising your hand to shield your eyes from the unexpected brightness.

Ciri was still fast asleep on her bed, but Jaskier wasn't in his. Actually, Jaskier wasn't inside the cabin at all. Had he even come back after last night? Was he okay?

You were up and out of the cabin within a blink of an eye, going straight through the woods to the other small cabin where you had left Jaskier and Prince Radovid to make out in privacy. But to your relief, both men were fast asleep on blankets on the floor, cuddled in each other's arms.

You smiled softly staring at the two of them, your fingers unclenching from around the handle of your sword now that you knew that Jaskier was okay and unharmed.

Silently, you snuck away from the two of them, not wanting to wake them before you made your way back to your cabin, but the second you stepped through the door, your blood turned to ice.

Ciri was gone.

"No, no, no, no." You mumbled to yourself, rushing inside and searching high and low, but the young girl was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

Footsteps crunched on the leaves outside the cabin. Your Witcher hearing picking up the faint noise with ease as the quiet footsteps appeared to come closer and closer.

You ducked behind the open door of the cabin, your sword held up close to your body while you waited for the person outside to enter. The footsteps continued to get closer, whoever was out there was deliberately trying to tread lightly which meant they didn't want to be heard and that only meant trouble.

A few moments later, Prince Radovid waltzed through the front door, his head frantically looking around the room like he was searching for something... or someone.

You stepped out from behind the door and held your sword out until the blade brushed against the side of his neck. He instantly froze where he stood in the middle of the cabin, his body turning tense.

"Turn around. Slowly." You ordered.

Radovid quickly raised his hands in surrender before slowly turning to face you. His wide terrified eyes met yours briefly before he averted his gaze.

"Where is she?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where is Ciri? Where's my daughter?!" You questioned, raising your voice a little louder than you intended before you adjusted your sword until the tip of the blade was pressed against his throat.

That was the first time you had referred to Ciri as your own, but the word daughter felt true. She might not be yours biologically, hell, you couldn't have your own kid even if you wanted to, not after the Trials. But Ciri was the closest thing to a daughter you have ever had.

She was Geralt’s Child Surprise and she was his daughter now, and yours as well.

"I don't know where she is-" Radovid began to say before you cut him off.

"Don't fucking lie to me. What did you do with her?"

"Ahem." Someone cleared their throat from behind you, but you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

A look of relief washed over the prince before you, but it was only short lived.

"Jaskier, thank the Gods. This Witcher is threating me. I was just-"

"I know what you were doing." Jaskier said, cutting him off.

"Jaskier, you've got it wrong."

"Oh, I've got it wrong. I'm sorry. Which part?" He slowly walked into the room before pausing by your side, but you kept your eyes on the prince in front of you, your sword unwavering from his neck. "The part where you feigned affection for me, or the part where you tried to kidnap a young woman under my care whilst I slept?"

"It would make everything easier for us if she came to Redania. I'd be out from under Dijkstra's thumb."

"And there it is." Jaskier sighed.

"How can you think my feelings for you are a lie?"

"Because that is who you are, Radovid. At your core." Jaskier began to explain, his voice wavering slightly with emotion as he stepped closer to the prince. "I thought I'd seen through your mask. Turns out there was nothing behind it."

Your heart shattered for Jaskier. The pain and heartbreak thick in his voice, but to your own shock, Radovid had tears rising in his eyes and seemed to be just as heartbroken.

"I'm so sorry." The prince whispered, staring at Jaskier before glancing over the bard’s shoulder and focusing on you. "And I didn't touch your daughter. I truly don't know where she is."

He was telling the truth. You knew he was.

"Get the fuck out of here." You muttered, lowering your sword.

The prince nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes before he dashed past the two of you, heading straight for the door.

"If you so much as hurt a single hair on Jaskier's head again, my sword will be the last thing you ever see. Prince of Redania or not. I don't fucking care." You shouted over your shoulder.

You watched the prince pause in the doorway, his back facing you both as he gave a small nod before he rushed out the cabin, disappearing through the woods and out of sight.

"Jask-" You began to say, turning to face your best friend before he cut you off.

"I'm fine. We need to find Ciri. I'm okay, seriously, Y/N. I'm okay."

The shakiness in his voice and unshed tears shimmering in his eyes would say otherwise, but you didn't call him out on it.

You nodded, "c'mon."

The two of you spent the next 10 minutes searching the surrounding area for the young girl, but there was no sign of her anywhere.

"We should split up. We'll cover more ground." Jaskier suggested breathlessly after running through the woods with you.

"I am not leaving you."

"It'll be quicker. We both know it. Y/N, dear, we have to find Ciri."

You stared at Jaskier for a few seconds, his gentle blue eyes holding your gaze sternly and you sighed.

"Fine. Take this." You instructed, reaching down and pulling out your throwing knife from your boot. "Don't die, yeah?"

Jaskier hesitated a little but took the knife. "I won't die if you don't die, deal?"

You smiled softly, "deal."

Jaskier smirked before he turned and continued his search for Ciri while you jogged off in the opposite direction, shouting the girls name as you ran.

You reached the cliffs along the beach hoping, praying that Ciri was down there somewhere.

Aratuza stood off in the distance, thick, dark smoke wafting out the old building as you stood on the edge of the cliff face, overlooking the golden beach that stretched for miles. A fading fog along the shoreline revealed abandoned boats washed ashore further down the beach towards Aratuza. Alarm bells were ringing in your head as you stared at the wooden boats, but you were too busy scanning the sandy beach for Ciri to notice.

"Y/N!" A desperate, yet familiar voice cried out.

You spun around and let out a shaky sigh of relief when you saw Ciri sprinting down the dirt path towards you.

"Oh, thank God." You whispered to yourself before rushing over to meet her.

Ciri practically threw herself into your arms, your bodies colliding as she hugged you tightly, burying her face into the crook of your neck while you wrapped your arms around her small frame protectively.

"It's okay. I got you, sweetie. I got you." You whispered, hugging her tightly whilst rubbing soothing circles across her back.

"You're alive." She sobbed quietly, pulling away. "I dreamed you and Geralt were gone... and I woke up and-and you were gone."

"Oh, Ciri." You whispered, your hands resting on her shoulders as you held the girl in front of you, hating the tears that were glistening in her eyes. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. But I would never leave you. Never. You know that, right?"

She nodded as a few tears escaped down her cheek and you smiled sadly at her, brushing the tears away with your thumb.

"Thank goodness I found you guys!" Yennefer's voice suddenly shouted.

You both turned around to find the mage jogging over to you, but you knew something was horribly wrong when you noticed Geralt’s sword on her back.

"What happened?" You questioned, getting straight to the point once she finally reached your side, breathing heavily like she had run all the way from Aratuza.

"The war. It's started."

"The war?"

"Yes. The mages, the elves, the kingdom of Redania. Redania want to purge disloyal mages from their ranks. The elves are fighting on behalf of Nilfgaard. It's too much to explain right now, but we need to get Ciri away from this island as fast as possible."

"Yen, what about Geralt?" Ciri asked, beating you to it.

"He'll find us. He always finds us."

"I'm not leaving this island without him or Jaskier." You stated sternly, glancing back over to the edge of the cliff. "I'll escort you back to the ferry and make sure you guys get out of here safely. You take Ciri far from here. Geralt and I will meet up with you after."

"We aren't separating." Ciri argued, but you shook your head.

"This isn't up for debate. This is what's happening." You ordered, looking at Ciri before glancing at Yennefer. "Can I trust you with this?"

"I will protect Ciri with my life. You have my word." Yennefer responded, and as much as you didn't want to, you trusted her.

You gave her a sharp nod before leading them down the dirt path, following the side of the cliff in the direction of the port where the ferry you had arrived on was moored... at least, you hoped it was still there.

The three of you barely walked a mile before the wolf medallion around your neck suddenly started to vibrate against your chest. Your senses went on high alert, the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up and you came to a sudden halt.

"Yen." Was the only warning you could give the other woman.

You drew your sword in an instant and spun around to find a ball of flames soaring through the air directly towards you. Yennefer was quick to react using her magic to block the attack and once the flames cleared, Rience stepped forward with a grin.

Great, this guy again.

Ciri charged at the fire mage without hesitation, and you were quick to join with your own sword. It all happened so fast though because the next thing you knew, there was a ring of fire surrounding you and Ciri. You were trapped.

"Enough!" Rience shouted, glaring at the two of you, his hand raised controlling the fire around you.

He could very easily alight the two of you with those flames, but you knew he wouldn't. You also knew that you needed to keep this fire mage distracted because Geralt was sneaking up behind him and he had absolutely no idea.

"You won't kill them. Your master wants Ciri alive." Yennefer said from somewhere behind you.

"I have no master."

"Yeah? Then who did you kidnap me for?" You questioned, trying to keep him distracted.

Rience turned his attention back towards you and seemed annoyed with your question because the flames circling you and Ciri slowly started to become closer.

"He is not my master." Rience growled.

He.

So, the rogue mage was male. Interesting.

"Then who is he?" You asked, trying to get more details.

Yennefer suddenly threw Geralt’s sword, using her magic to push the sword through the air at a rapid speed. You watched as Geralt caught his sword with ease before slicing the blade through Rience’s neck, cutting the Fire Fuckers head clean off.

"He was nearly going to tell me who his master was." You said, staring at the mages dead body before the circle of flames around you and Ciri suddenly disappeared.

"It's Vilgefortz." Geralt informed, walking over to you. "He's at the centre of all this. He bought both Nilfgaard and the Scoia'tael. They're searching for you, Ciri. We have to get off this island."

Yennefer handed him his sword sheath which he threw over his shoulder but before you could do or say anything else, sudden thunder rumbled in the distance and Yennefer’s body suddenly turned tense.

"Tissaia." She whispered, looking over at Aretuza that was still up in smoke, but was now being surrounded by dark storm clouds.

"What's wrong?" Geralt questioned, following her line of sight in confusion.

"She's summoning Alzur's Thunder."

"The fuck is that?" You questioned bluntly, knowing standing here and talking was wasting precious time.

"A spell of last resort." Ciri answered with wide eyes.

Oh. Shit.

"Go to her. We'll be alright." Ciri insisted, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation better than you or Geralt seemed to. "She has no choice." Ciri explained, glancing over at you and Geralt before focusing back on the mage. "I understand what she means to you. To know she suffers, she fights that she may die."

Yennefer nodded, "I have to do this."

You glanced over at Geralt who had his jaw clenched shut, clearly not liking the idea of splitting up. Yennefer was strong, she was powerful, and you needed her help to protect Ciri. You both knew that, but you also know how much Tissaia meant to the witch, and you couldn't ask her to stay.

"Go. We'll get Ciri away from here. You help your people." You announced, stepping forward and placing your hand on the mages shoulder. "As much as it pains me to say it, we need you. So, try not to die."

Yennefer chuckled softly, "same to you, Y/N." She glanced over at Geralt, giving him a small nod before she turned and ran back towards Aratuza to help her fellow mages.

-

The three of you didn't get a chance to reach the beach before Cahir showed up. Ciri wanted to kill him for everything he had done to her during the attack in Cintra all that time ago.

You and Geralt didn't try to hold her back. She was her own person and you had trained her enough to know that she could take him in a fight, but you stood nearby with your sword ready just in case.

Cahir surrendered though. Dropped to his knees and begged for Ciri to kill him for all the shit he had done, but then the Scoia'tael showed up and he fought them off, giving the three of you a chance to escape.

You made it down to the beach and found an old wooden boat tucked away in a cave. The small boat would be quicker to escape with rather than trying to find the ferry which may or may not even be there.

"Help me move this." Geralt instructed, reaching down to pick up the bow of the boat.

You and Ciri hurriedly reached down to grab the stern when suddenly your Wolf medallion began to vibrate once again. But it was different this time. It was stronger.

"Y/N." Geralt warned, grabbing his own vibrating medallion.

"Yep. I know." You grunted, dropping the boat back down and drawing your sword ready for the next threat.

"Ciri. Go." Geralt ordered, glancing over at the girl.

"I'm not leaving you guys. I can help."

"Never lost, always found. Go."

Ciri looked like she wanted to continue arguing and Geralt gave you a pointed look, silently telling you to get the girl out of here. So, you quickly sheathed your sword and grabbed her arm, pulling her out the cave.

"But I can help. Please. You trained me. You know I can help." Ciri begged, looking up at you before turning back to the entrance of the cave where Geralt still was.

"Ciri. Ciri. Look at me." You instructed, reaching over and cupping the side of her face, forcing her green eyes to meet yours. "Destiny bought us all together. It bought us together and we will be together again."

"But-"

"Geralt and I can't focus on the fight if we're worrying about you, okay? We need to know that you are hidden and safe and once the fight is over, we will find you. I promise, we will find you."

"You promise?" She asked.

"I promise."

Ciri threw her arms around you, giving you a quick hug and you hugged her back, not wanting to let go but knowing you had to.

"I love you. I love you like a daughter. Always know that." You whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you too."

"Now go." You ordered, ending the hug and taking a step back.

The girl nodded, water rising in her bright green eyes, but she took off running down the beach anyway. You sighed with relief before rushing back into the cave that you only just realised seemed to be some kind of manmade structure built into the cave if the cement pillars and walls lining the cave were any indication.

"Know what the hardest part was? Holding back!" A vaguely familiar voice shouted, followed by the sound of metals clinking violently together.

You rounded the corner of the cave just as Geralt deflected a metal staff with his sword. The man he was fighting was using a metal staff. What the fuck?

You stared at the man for a moment, taking in his dark outfit and long hair tied back and suddenly, it all came flooding back.

The man taking vials of your blood. The man injecting you with the sleeping drugs. The man that the little girl had been so afraid of, the man that she knew before she had been kidnapped... it was him.

This was Vilgefortz. 

-

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[thelostgirl21]

When you read some of the things you'd written before watching Season 3, and they suddenly take on a new meaning...

His "weapon" isn't a sword, magic, or even his lute. After all, "Whoreson Prison Blues" sounded fantastic accompanied by spoons!

Yes. Spoons always make Jaskier sound fantastic. Jaskier really knows how to work with spoons, and work those spoons!

All Jaskier truly needs, to sound great and inspired, really, is a spoon!

Give Jaskier a spoon, and they'll be making sweet music together... Both literally and figuratively...

He doesn't need a weapon, he's one of the single most influential character of the series, in a sense, just by virtue of existing and doing "what he does best" - being an impulsively chaotic bard either seducing or pissing people off; and just touching things he probably shouldn't touch, and putting random stuff in his mouth.

Radovid, Comma Prince of Redania: *Spends his whole life doing everything he can to stay under the radar, be kept out of Redanian politics, and appear really dumb, incompetent, and drunk (note: although he was only pretending to be drunk with Jaskier in that scene, I think Hugh Skinner mentioned that Radovid does drink quite a lot to cope with everything that's going on, though, sort of as a way to "self-medicate") so people will let him be.*

Jaskier: *Shows up.*

Radovid: *Intensely crushes on him. Forgets he's supposed to play dumb, and instead offers actually good and sensible arguments as to why Jaskier Cirilla should come live with them in Redania.*

Jaskier: *Shows willingness to listen to Radovid, and offers to do what he can to convince Geralt and Ciri to accept the offer, should they find a way to get rid of Rience.*

Philippa: *Is impressed, and compliments Radovid on it.*

Radovid: *Immediately attempts to go back to playing dumb, hiding, and hopefully being of no interest to her or anyone else at court.*

Jaskier: *Shows up again, flirts with Radovid, lets him know that he's not fooled by his dumb drunken playboy prince act, utterly seduces him with a song (and as many "come hither looks" as one can humanly make fit in a single encounter) and humbly asks for his help.*

Radovid: *Falls even deeper in love with him, drops his act with Jaskier and agrees to help him. Suddenly gets deeply involved in Redanian politics. Argues with the spymasters that, maybe, they should start using carrots with people instead of sticks. Puts Philippa on Rience's trail, while letting Dijkstra know about his brother's secret meetings with Nilfgaard (probably counting on him to change Vizimir's mind regarding his plans of handing Ciri over to the Emperor), regularly starts showing disdain for Dijkstra's methods and gets himself on the spymaster's "shitlist"...*

Of course, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know:

Queen Hedwig is dead,

King Vizimir is dead, and now he's

Radovid, Comma King of Redania.

Right at the start of the second war between the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire, no less...

With his sister-in-law and brother's murderer(s) still likely running around the castle somewhere, and working for the people that just put that crown on his head...

And the love of his life still out there, risking his own life, hopefully having managed to reunite with Geralt, and now facing who knows how many dangers to attempt to go rescue Ciri...

So much for staying under the radar and avoiding to get politically involved!

Jaskier: *Seduces the Prince of Redania and uses his lips for extraordinary things...

...accidentally triggers a series of events that changes Redania's line of succession, and totally upends the power structure and dynamic of the strongest kingdom of the Continent!*

By this point, I would almost expect Geralt's response to learning that Vizimir has been assassinated, and that Prince Radovid has ascended to the throne, to be:

"Alright Jaskier, what did you do?"

Obviously, I knew that Prince Radovid was rumored to be Jaskier's new love interest in Season 3 back then... But I had absolutely no idea what Radovid's character would be like in terms of personality, motivations, etc.

Turns out that they found Jaskier a love interest that is basically as directionless and lonely in life as Geralt used to be in Season 1. Someone that doesn't want to get involved in politics or any of those games people in position of power like to play, and is basically just going through the motions of his life...

Until Jaskier shows up and, suddenly, he finds himself right at the heart of those politics, forced to make decisions and choices that will shape the future of the whole freaking Continent!

The main difference is that Geralt sort of continuously fought against Destiny, tried to ignore it, deny it, and push it away. And then, he blamed Jaskier for everything that went wrong and attempted to cut himself from him!

Whereas Radovid just immediately found himself irresistibly drawn to it and embraced whatever changes Jaskier brought into his life, while starting to make choices and take risks out of love without ever blaming him for it, or making it sound like he remotely held Jaskier responsible whenever things misfired or went wrong.

And even when things do go horribly wrong, all Radovid can think of, apparently, while looking at his dead brother is "going to see Jaskier."

But then, Geralt is much older than Radovid is and, from what I understand, has had his dreams and hopes crushed quite a few times whenever he's let his guard down and dared get attached to people in the past.

When you keep suffering loss after loss after loss... at some point, you probably figure that the best way to avoid loss is no longer feeling like you have anything valuable to lose. If you need no one, then you won't risk losing anyone.

Whereas Radovid's never had anyone from his own world he was able to genuinely emotionally connect with. And suddenly, he finds someone that sees him and is making an effort to attempt to understand him - something and someone he's discovered that he needs and doesn't want to lose.

But yeah, it's really fascinating, on the show, to see the way that our beloved bard just keeps... basically causing stuff to happen!

For better or for worse, Jaskier is making people that seemingly don't want to get involved be involved, and making them discover whatever their purpose appears to be in the grand scheme of things!

Yennefer:

The "Destiny" that brought them together:

And now that Lauren Hissrich has clearly stated that Ciri wasn't the descendant of Éile and Fjall that the prophecy was referring to in "The Witcher: Blood Origin", one has to wonder if it could be Jaskier.

Okay, first I just want to address people saying that it's sort of a "retcon" on what she'd said in the past and that she'd "all but confirmed it was Ciri already", because I actually found that interview and listened to it, and that's not quite what I took from it.

I mean yes, I can see how it could have been interpreted the way it was, but what she actually said is:

"Éile's pregnant, at the end. And we know that that's part of Ithlinne's Prophecy; that there is a seed in her that will eventually lead to someone who's important in the Witcher's world.

So, as someone who, for instance, on "The Witcher" 's side, follows Ciri and the origin of her genes and her blood... It's like, I kinda wanna know where that character's gonna go.

I wanna know if these two things are going to, you know, crash into each other at some point."

So, the way I personally understand it is that:

"Blood Origin" introduced the idea that there currently is someone, in the Witcher's world, that is connected to the Ithlinne's Prophecy by blood (by virtue of being the descendant of Fjall and the Lark), and that they will sing the last note of a song that ends all time.

The prophecy about them goes:

"The time of the spheres is upon us. Aen Seidhe [the elves of the Continent] lost across the skies. Cast adrift in time. Ever searching for love, lost and left behind. The Lark’s seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all times. And one of her blood shall sing the last."

And that, on the show "The Witcher", Ciri's also a character whose genes and blood is given a lot of attention and importance to. So, as a member of the audience, she'd be curious to know if these two different characters are going to crash into each other at some point, and those two parts of the Prophecy are going to connect.

The rest of the Ithlinne's Prophecy from the books, that's connected to Ciri, is:

"Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves... May Ye All Wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us. Your lands shall they trample and divide with rope. Your cities razed shall be, their dwellers expelled. The bat, owl and raven your homes shall infest, and the serpent will therein make its nest..."

She also said, in a Tudum Interview: "One of the things that we love about Sapkowski’s books is his attention to genes, to bloodlines, and to how families grow and develop."

And in Season 3, Jaskier keeps referring to Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer as "his family".

They may not be related by blood, but they are still "family" to him, in the truest sense (like, I think, the Seven established a family-like bond).

And Jaskier is the one that brought them all together. "The Lark’s most precious note shall be the key to all things", and Jaskier does feel like he's the key to all things, at times.

He's just randomly traveling the Continent, unlocking people's destinies left and right, connecting with them, struggling with the thought of settling down.

He's also drawn to people that are "ever searching for love", and that feel "lost and left behind".

Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri... Radovid, even.

And, of course, the elves, that he became "The Sandpiper" to protect.

What I'm also wondering is if the part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy, at the end of "Blood Origin", was added at the same time that they chose to introduce Seanchai and change the role that Jaskier was initially meant to play in the spinoff.

Because it would appear that Seanchai's true form would be that of an ancient elf.

So, "Blood Origin" introduces us to two incredibly powerful ancient elves with the ability to cross time and dimensions.

Avalach, that shares a connection to Ciri in the books (I won't spoil it for those that haven't read it), and

2. Seanchai.

So, what if Seanchai was the child of Éile and Fjall? The Lark’s seed, that shall carry forth (throughout history) the first note of a song that ends all times?

And this is sort of what the show's creator had to say about her character:

It just sort of fitted so well in. When I was thinking about this idea with Seanchaí story collection, it was that moment where all the story about music, and story and words being more powerful than any army, sort of all felt less than [compared] to [having] it sort of personified in this sort of creature that’s raison d'être is to collect stories because they are so powerful. It was great. And the name Seanchaí actually comes from... It was a position in Ireland where you were a storyteller, and you went between the halls of kings, and you went to chieftains and people, and they were the most powerful people in the land and kings were fucking terrified of them – and queens – because one bad story would destroy you as a king. And they were far more worried about that than any army. And then bringing that back to life in this world, it just all clicked. It was one of those lovely synchronous moments of story.

Because the child of Fjall and the Lark is supposed to carry forth (not sing, carry) the first note of the song...

...and one of her blood shall sing the last note of that song.

And when Jaskier asks Seanchai "Why did you save me from the Temerians?", she answers "I need you to sing a story back to life. We're related you an I."

She then explains that he's a bard and she's a storyteller, of a sort...

But that's just the thing. A storyteller might be able to carry the notes of a song - for centuries, perhaps - but she would need a bard to actually sing it when the time was right.

And yeah... The idea that she meant a bit more than just "storytellers and bards have a lot in common" when she said "we're related, you and I", would be intriguing...

The problem, however, is that should it be Jaskier (regardless of him being related to Seanchai or not...), it would sort of make that part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy extremely literal. Almost too literal, one might say.

Not to mention that the way the scene is filmed really seems to be meant to heavily imply that it is Jaskier.

Because, when Seanchai says "...and one of her blood shall sing the last", we are pulled out of the past to the present, where Jaskier is seen writing the last words of a story.

And, when he tries to get her to elaborate on who she's referring to, the answer Jaskier gets is: "Sing the 'Song of the Seven', Sandpiper".

Then, when Jaskier looks back at the last page of the story he's just written, the camera zooms in on "...and one of her blood shall sing the last.", while it starts raining, some dramatic ominous music starts playing, and Jaskier is suddenly back to standing on the battlefield.

So, it feels like she's giving him the answer to his question by telling him to sing.

Then, Seanchai goes on, saying "...so the oppressed may find hope and strenght in the tale of their ancestors; and be ready for the great change to come;" and you see an elf come to squeeze Jaskier's shoulder to let him know the battle is won (at least, this one), and invite him to follow them.

And, even if the only way that Seanchai and Jaskier were "related" would be through their love for either collecting and preserving stories, and/or sharing those stories with the world, she still says that she needs him to sing a story back to life.

So, if you were a powerful ancient elf that actually knew who was meant to sing the very last note of a specific story, wouldn't you want to let them know how the story actually began, too?

Jaskier: I'm just a bard.

Seanchai: In her mind, going:

A bard with a blood marked by beast and magic, that felt an instant connection and deep sense of kinship towards a Witcher that everyone hated, feared, and called a "Butcher"...

A bard that brought said Witcher to Calanthe's banquet - where he prevented Duny's demise, and claimed his future daughter, the Elder Blood Princess, as his own.

A bard that brought the Witcher to Yennefer of Vengenberg, the sorceress that would come to love that child as her own daughter, too, and help protect and raise her, too.

A bard that feels intimately drawn to everyone on the Continent - men, women, elves, dwarves, even polymorphous, apparently... - regardless of race or creed, and would step in and risk his life to protect those being persecuted on the basis of being seen as "the other"...

A bard that embodies the complexity, beauty, and diversity of everyone's stories on the Continent, and feels like - if the muses stopped talking to him and inspiring him to write and sing those songs - he'd have no idea who he was anymore, and would no longer be able to do the one thing he was put on this Continent to do?

A bard that inspires people to grow, get involved, and ultimately become the better versions of themselves...

A bard, whose ancestors' fight against Balor lead to the Conjunction of the Spheres, the arrival of the humans on the Continent, of the monsters, the creation of the Witchers, and the beginning of a story that he'll witness and sing the conclusion of.

But yes, just a bard.

But yeah, it's like the show is pointing us so strongly in Jaskier's direction and wanting us so much to think it's him that it's almost suspicious or "too easy" to assume it's him.

What also makes me hesitate, in some ways, is that people would expect someone that's been described as having "a blood like no other, marked by beast and magic", to be exhibiting superhuman powers of some sort, and have powerful magic of their own, I suppose.

While Jaskier is very much human. But Seanchai (and the show runners, apparently) sees great power in the ability to shape the world through storytelling, and she makes it sound like she truly respects Jaskier's "power", and the way he's been using his voice to help change people's perception of outcasts.

Even "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was all about changing the way people irrationally feared and reviled witchers, and treated them as freaks.

Yes, he threw Filivandrel and the elves under the bus with that one!

No one's denying that, and I've always headcanoned that one of the reasons why he became the Sandpiper is because he realized he truly messed up with "Toss A Coin", and was attempting to take responsibility for his mistakes and right some of his wrongs.

But "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was still about changing people's perception of witchers, so that Geralt would be seen as a noble, brave, larger-than-life heroic protector that was also a friend you could just enjoy a pint with, rather than some unrelatable mutant freak without any emotion that one should fear and keep their distance from in general, unless they had an even more dangerous monster needing killing.

He tried helping one outcast, but sadly made things worse for others.

And we also have to remember that we're talking about a very young Jaskier that had been brought up in the human world until then, and likely didn't fully grasp nor understand how much damage humanity had done to the elder races. We're talking about someone with a fairly limited worldview that genuinely thought elves were just "hiding in their golden palaces" while humanity suffered until, like, seconds ago.

Filivandrel might have started shaking those perceptions, but I doubt it would have been enough to completely make him unlearn all the lies and prejudices he'd been taught, and fully realize that what had happened to Filivandrel wasn't the exception when it came to elves, but the norm.

Now, Jaskier knows and understands better. Back then? He still had things to learn. I guess my point is that, despite all of his flaws and shortcomings as a young bard, Jaskier was still using his voice in ways meant to help someone connect with, and be accepted by, the world.

He's always been highly empathetic, and likely to spontaneously side with those that needed to have a voice after having been cast aside.

And, should Jaskier be, indeed, the descendant of the very first Witcher, it does add a rather unique element to the way he immediately trusted that he'd be safe traveling with Geralt, and never instinctively feared who and what he was, regardless of the reputation he'd acquired after Blaviken.

Something in Jaskier's DNA would apparently be telling him that Witchers make perfectly suitable life companions!

And Fjall was kicked out of his clan when they found out he was having an affair with Princess Merwyn!

So, getting into trouble because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry would be a family trait that would go back generations!

It can't be helped, really!

Éile was into Dog Clan people and Witchers.

Jaskier is into Wolf Clan people and Witchers.

Fjall was into Royals and Bards.

Jaskier is into Royals and Himself.

These three are obviously related!

"Song of the Seven" would be a part of Jaskier's own heritage, too. He'd be singing about the history of his own ancestors, and their very own "found family", rather than singing about a group of outcasts he has no intimate or personal connection to.

And, should Éile indeed be one of Jaskier's ancestors...

Well, she was called "The Lark"...

And Jaskier chose to call himself "The Sandpiper"...

It's actually what Seanchai replied when Jaskier asked "Are you sure you've got the right man for this?"

Something like "Of course I am. You're the Sandpiper. Smuggler of elves to safety."

Apparently, small sandpipers are also sometimes called "sand larks".

So...

If Jaskier was the one referred to in that part of that Prophecy, then the song would start with the Lark's seed... and end with a Sand Lark!

Then, there's Radovid...

Because, of course, out of Jaskier's entire repertoire, he would be drawn to that song the most!

A part of me can't help but think I'm just looking way too deep into this, and making connections that are probably extremely accidental, but still, I can't help but think it would be really cool if Jaskier did end up being the Continent's MVP, in a sense.

If the whole point of Blood Origin - beyond giving us some insight on how the first Witchers were created and why, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the humans arriving on the Continent, etc. - was to clearly establish bards/storytellers (namely Éile, Jaskier, Seanchai...) as being some of the most powerful beings of their world.

While some would probably find it anticlimactic that Ithlinne's Prophecy, in "Blood Origin", would simply be about a "humble human bard" that would have inherited Éile's gift for storytelling and singing - rather than some sort of primal power or something (due to their connection to the first Witcher) - I think it would be fitting.

Dijkstra & Philippa: We have control over Redania’s resources!

Radovid: I have a Sandpiper.

He's just like the Queen on the chessboard, fiercely protecting the King by messing up the other pieces' moves, hard to predict because he can take off in too many directions and in too many ways...

And everyone's also after him, trying to knock him down, because he just keeps fucking their game over!

Also, as it turns out, there were many more character posters this season! And Jaskier wasn't the only one without a "physical weapon" or object of some sort...

But my favorite's got to be Radovid. I mean Jaskier's standing there, taking everything in, hyper-alert and ready to do "something" about it.

And our poor sweetheart is just... standing there with his fur heavy blanket cloak, discreetly looking over his shoulder, looking half-curious about what's happening and half totally done with this shit, just about ready to pour himself yet another drink...

Story of his life!

#Jaskier #Radovid #Radskier #The Witcher #The Witcher: Blood Origin #My Posts #My Thoughts #My Stuff

[laurikarauchscat]

Emhyr wakes up to a hangover from hell and a blaring cellphone, and immediately wishes for death. He is feeling absolutely shit.

He has to keep an arm over his face as he reaches for the phone blindly.

“Hello,” he croaks.

“...It’s 11 in the morning.” Geralt says on the other side, in lieu of greeting like a normal fucking person. 

“What do you want?”

“Are you home? Ciri said you had a work thing last night, and if I just woke you up-”

“I’m home. Does Cirilla need a change of clothing?” He had told his obstinate child the weather would be too warm for winter wear this weekend, but her head was quite hard. If he was feeling slightly better he might be feeling vindicated at this moment. 

“Yeah. I'll be over in fifteen.”

___

Emhyr is waiting on the porch as Geralt finally makes his appearance. He had barely made it to his position at the top of the steps, and was just contemplating attempting the descent when he catches Geralt’s judgemental expression through the windshield. Fuck that, he decides, as he plops the bag of clothes down next to him, resolved to make Mr Well Adjusted climb up the stairs his goddamned self if he wants to be super dad so bad. 

He is well aware of what he must look like in that moment, but he is quite convinced that Geralt should be grateful he has at least managed to greet him freshly showered (he’d spent ten minutes under the water leaning with his head against the wall), with a towel around his waist and a bathrobe on his back. 

As Geralt comes sauntering up the driveway, looking mean and fit and totally sober, Emhyr takes a fortifying drag of his cigarette. He has to close his eyes as he expels the smoke, since the sight of the rapidly moving white particles past his face might just have him give in to the temptation to ruin Geralt’s day by vomiting all over him. 

“Ciri said you quit.” the dickhead rumbles. 

“It shall be our little secret.” Emhyr answers in the most condescending tone he can manage in his impaired state. He points to the bag at his feet, and is rewarded by a flash of irritation on Geralt’s face. 

As the other man stomps up the steps, Emhyr experiences a moment of regret for not just tossing the bag at him, when he sees Mr Fitness' eyes linger on his soft belly. Instead, he affects the unbothered, and leans his arm on the banister next to him, trying his best to look self assured despite still very much feeling like shit. He maintains the pose until Geralt gets back into his hideously dilapidated vehicle.

__

In the perfectly serviceable and actually quite well maintained truck, Geralt frantically reaches for his cellphone as he takes up his place behind the wheel. He struggles to pull his eyes away from the half naked man now sashaying to the porch couch to drape himself over it, porno style. 

“Yen,” he says, as the woman in question picks up his call, “I swear to GOD Emhyr is trying to seduce me. Can you believe that!!??”

#traditional art #the witcher fanart #the witcher 3 #the witcher #emhyr var emreis #emhyr #duny #emperor emhyr #modern au #witcher au #Geralt #geralt of rivia #emhyr x geralt #geralt z rivii #witcher geralt #Emhyr: suffering and miserable #Geralt: “Thats hot” #Geralt is me coded fr #witcher fanart #Witcher art #witcher fanfiction #Witcher fic

[hanzajesthanza]

a few of the most witcher plot-relevant and interesting things i learned from reading more interviews with sapkowski:

he originally intended the witcher pentalogy as a trilogy, but when he came down to it, he realized the time spent between the release of each book would be too long (causing people to lose interest in and age out of the series), and that each book would be very, very big. so he decided to structure the idea as a pentalogy instead, and wanted it to be called the Witcher Pentateuch, however the publisher wanted to put the Witcher Saga. and thus it was known as the saga, a name he does not like…

the events of the short stories “sword of destiny” and “something more” were initially intended to be part of the cycle—not bound with the rest of the short stories. this is owing to the fact that they are about ciri and her bond with geralt.

sapkowski was planning the witcher cycle around the time “a question of price” was being published (‘89). it was maciej parowski (as well as a fan at the time) who noticed the rising action and pointed out the idea of a hero (heroine!) being born as geralt’s surprise child, and a cycle about this hero born to the witcher. sapkowski hadn’t actually considered this before it was pointed out to him; however, he then developed the idea from there, and allegedly began to develop the cycle in this year. the very first idea of which that he had was the fight between of bonhart and the rats—a scene which would only appear in print almost an entire decade later in ‘97.

the fish soup geralt’s company makes is real and actually one of sapkowski’s specialties, something he has made a lot when he goes fishing. the recipe is genuinely his, including cahir’s hauberk which they use to strain the soup—in real life, he used gauze to strain the soup, because a colander was too much to carry with him in his equipment. this all is not particularly surprising because it is known that he fishes a lot, but it is somewhat interesting to me because he has said he usually practices catch and release. in another interview, he attests to his own cooking skills and says out of everything he cooks he’s best at making soup, particularly fish soup.

(i’ve known this one for a while, but while i’m at it!) the deaths of the characters which die in the last book were all planned, no dice-rolling involved (sapkowski often rebukes the accusations that he writes by “rolling the dice,” as if he were DMing a D&D game (which he did, actually, by the way, back in the day) ridiculing the idea that: “snake eyes popped out, so i killed them”). the deaths of the members of geralt’s company at castle stygga were very intentional as a rebuking of the “black citadel” trope. but at the same time, he says, “it was more difficult with the vampire, i admit” and there were versions of the last book in which regis survived. however, it is necessary that regis dies because it takes all of vilgefortz’ power to kill him (… so, logically speaking (although this is not D&D!) regis’ death is the primary reason why vilgefortz can even be challenged by geralt at this point—which makes me think, had regis not pulled such a stunt, vilgefortz would have killed geralt and yennefer! … this makes the line “though i mainly owe my life to…” make a lot of sense.)

#‘​… who was that geralt?’ ‘a friend.’ #the witcher books #this is written from memory. but fresh memory. as in i was reviewing these interviews last night and felt it in my heart today to post #andrzej sapkowski #the witcher #book: lady of the lake #cw witcher spoilers #cw lady of the lake spoilers

[annmarcus63]

An ugly, translucent shape opened at the gates of Kaer Morhen. A portal. Mercenaries and a mage, the firefucker.  The witchers defend their home and their cub, but they're too many. Ciri gets badly wounded and Rince is about to drag her through the portal, away from her home, away from her family. Geralt feels terror, they can't take her. The wizards fight with all their might, eliminating them one by one in a matter of second. A defeated Rince mocks them and before fleeing, he reaches into the portal to pull out a person who instantly falls to the ground. 

"This one sang beautifully, witcher. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found Princess Cirilla. And her blood" the mage's face twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at his blood covered dagger. Blood holds power, especially Ciri’s. But before Rince can escape, Lambert appears out of nowhere, taking him by surprise to cut off his head instantly. 

On the ground there's a shaking figure. 

A pair of frightened eyes looks around. Jaskier. Geralt had not seen the bard for years, he tried not to think about him either. But Ciri is wounded, bleeding and whimpering for Geralt because it hurts too much. The witchers carry the princess inside without looking back, to the shaking man on the ground. Geralt and Eskel heals Ciri as much as they can. She's going to be alright.  

Later, he sees Vesemir, through Ciri's bedroom window, approaching a shrunken figure at the stables and after a few breaths said figure following the aged witcher inside the fortress. 

Jaskier is there the next morning, sitting in the dining hall, shoeless and wearing simple clothes that are too big for him. But he doesn't want to see him, he can't, Ciri almost died because Jaskier was the one who gave the information to Rince. With a shrinking heart, Geralt turns away to find something to occupy his mind while Ciri recovers. 

-

Guilt is eating Jaskier up, even the pain cannot compensate for his heavy conscience. He hides his hands in a pair of thick gloves that rub against his burned skin, but it is worse to have them exposed. He had never been to Kaer Morhen before, but he had never imagined it would be like this. He never imagined he would be an outsider, a traitor. 

He finds a pretty good room, it's small and only has a hole in the wall, so it's not so cold. The wolves are uneasy, uncomfortable with his presence and he totally understands it. Geralt has barely given him a glance. Eskel is kind, he smiles at him whenever they run into each other and even gives him a pair of boots and a cloak.

The day after his arrival he spends the day working on the stables, cleaning and feeding the horses, it's not an easy task due to his damaged hands but he can manage. In the afternoon, Jaskier goes inside and sits down in front of the fire in the hall to warm his freezing bones. Not too close, of course. 

Geralt and Lambert enter speaking in hushed voices, Jaskier makes himself as small as possible so as not to attract attention. He's the prey. They are talking about Ciri, she is apparently well and that is reassuring. And suddenly...

"Shh, It's not safe to talk here." It takes him a few seconds to register what Lamber said.  Jaskier looks up to find two pairs of yellow eyes, predator's eyes, looking down at him with weariness. Something breaks inside him, something essential, it could be his core, his heart at the very least. In a hurried move he stands and leaves the room to find another place to get warm. 

At night the pain is too much to bear. He can't sleep and he's so damn tired so he cries for a while until he decides he’s had enough. He leaves his room barefoot so as not to alert the witchers and a single oil lantern to light the dark corridors of the keep. He wanders around for a while until he finds the lab, surely there must be something here to help ease his pain? he sniffs every jar and bottle whose contents seem familiar when a voice calls "If you smell that one you'll die" Jaskier yelps, turning around. 

Vesemir is at the door 

"I...I...I wasn't doing anything wrong, and maybe that's not the smartest thing to say. I'm sorry, I’ll just...go" 

"...what do you need?" 

"Something for the pain" The witcher approaches a cabinet 

"What kind of pain?" 

Jaskier is biting his lips to decide whether to tell the truth or... "Bard" Vesemir scolds him. 

"...burns" Vesemir stops to turn to look at him, his heavy eyes landing on the gloves on his hands. The witcher resumes his search and in a couple of minutes spent in silence he hands Jaskier a vial full of white stuff.  

"Thank you" Jaskier smiles sincerely. 

"Put shoes on or you'll lose your feet too" 

He cries all the way back to his room. 

The salve helped a little, but he still couldn't sleep. He's so tired and he doesn't want to be here anymore. He wonders if the snow is thick enough to kill him if he leaves in the night. 

It's hard to peel potatoes and Eskel notices upon entering the kitchen. "Are you ok?" says signaling the odd way in which he's holding the knife. Jaskier smiles at Eskel with a nod, afraid that if he speaks he won't be able to stop. The witcher is handsome even with the scar that splits his face. He has a quiet air about him that makes the bard sure that if they had met in different situations they’d surely be good friends. 

"You should go to the springs, the one in the middle will help you heal. Just don't go to the one on the right or you'll be burned alive" Jaskier flinches "Thank you, Eskel. I'll be sure to save you an extra portion of broth." the witcher laughs and pats the bard's shoulder before leaving. Jaskier wants to ask about Ciri but knows he has no right. 

-

Geralt is watching over his cub when he hears a door opening outside followed by unsure steps. Jaskier. He still hasn't decided if having the bard here is a good idea, he doesn't trust him, not quite. Eskel says he is too hard on him, also says he's injured to some extent. Geralt makes sure that Ciri is completely asleep before he follows the bard. He's in the springs. It is too late at night for another witcher to be there too, so Geralt decides that this may be the perfect opportunity to finally talk to him. To question him about his betrayal, even if it pains Geralt to know the answer. But he stands frozen in the entrance, Jaskier's back is turned to him, naked.  Hand marks decorate the bard's back, ugly burns across his arms that have not fully healed. 

Something breaks in Geralt and he is overcome by an unbearable grief and anger towards himself, towards Rince. The witcher watches as Jaskier removes one of the gloves. How had he not noticed the gloves? To reveal a completely burned hand, missing pieces of flesh and blackened areas beyond repair. The bard is weeping quietly, even the touch of the air causes him immense pain. Geralt gulps, wishing he could rewind the time, lift Jaskier off the ground and ask him if he was all right. He wants to turn back time to never shout those cruel words at him on the mountain.  

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #the witcher netflix #hey it's me again #with yet another angsty prompt #In this one #Yennefer doesn't save Jaskier from the hands of the firefucker #our baby bard is hurting #as in all my stories #i'm sorry