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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

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The Vessel [ Pt. 10 ]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: You go back to Cintra, back in your kingdom and back amongst the people that love you, and your two companions go back with you.

Warnings: Idek?

A/N- Although I decided to have Ciri in my story, Ciri actually does not have any powers in this one, and the reader does. For some reason, Pavetta's bloodline could not have the elder blood in it.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

Calanthe had a tight lipped smile etched to her face; this celebration was making her feel claustrophobic and the crackling cords of the lute gave her a headache. On one side sat her husband, the King of Cintra, Eist Tuirseach of Skellige and on her other side sat her granddaughter, the blonde haired blue eyed beauty, Cirilla.

"Spare me the festivities, I can't wait to retire and sleep off all night," she muttered under her breath, her fake smile still plastered on her face, as she acknowledged the lords that bowed their heads in her direction in greeting.

"Calanthe, love, it's her anniversary, you can atleast pretend to have a good time," Eist smiled, his fingers curling around the goblet in front of him as he lifted it and brought it up to his lips, taking a sip.

"Would someone even bother asking me if I like it?" Cirilla scowled, rolling her eyes. If there was one thing she couldn't do, was pretend, unlike her grandmother and her husband, who could give a 1000 watt smile on even the gravest of days.

Eist scoffed, but was met by a glare from his wife, as she turned towards Ciri with a stern look on her face, but not one with hatred, "Ciri, when will you learn?"

"Oh stop it grandmother, not again."

Calanthe let out a deep shaky breath pummeling from deep within her lungs as she sat back, trying to get more comfortable when she spotted one of her soldiers speaking to Mousesack by the gate. She squinted her eyes, bringing her index to her chin as she leaned forward, letting her chin be supported by it. Mousesack's expressions screamed at her that the discussion was not a common one; something was up.

Mousesack craned his neck to his side, discreetly and looked at her, her eyebrow instinctively shooting upwards in inquisitiveness and he blinked, slowly striding towards him until he was leaning next to her and whispering something into the Queen's ears; Eist and Ciri watching them with their eyebrows raised.

"We need to see Calanthe," Geralt said to one of the guards at the massive gates for the fifth time, and the guard asked him for the fifth time back what their purpose for visit was.

Geralt pursed his lips shut, and turned towards you. He looked at you in the eye, and you sighed. This wasn't working. There was no way on earth they were going to let you go in unless you told them what the truth was, but you couldn't risk it. What if they didn't believe you?

"Guards, back away. Let them in. The Queen wants to see the three of them." Mousesack's voice rang from behind them and they turned around immediately, moving out of the way until you came face to face with the a man with greying long hair, although way shorter than Geralt's. He had a pleasant, kind look to him but still, he had caution in his eyes.

"Follow me," He said, his voice not wavering a bit.

You turned towards Geralt who was stiff, and alert too, his eyes scanning the man in suspicion. When you didn't follow him, the man turned and his expressions softened, "I am Mousesack, Queen Calanthe's confidant. I mean you no harm."

"Geralt, I think we should?" You asked, and he blinked in approval, his lips clenched together.

The three of you entered the palace, slowly following the man in front of you. The hallways were elegant and beautifully lit, and a faint sound of a lute filled the hallway. You slowly turned towards Jaskier, and saw him in a daze just like you had expected him to be.

"Jaskier, I'm sorry about your lute," you sighed, and he looked away for a bit, in sadness, his hands held together in front of him.

"You know? Lovers may come and go, but she was forever loyal to me."

"I'm sure you'll find a new one," Geralt grumbled next to you and you gasped, elbowing him in his side.

"Geralt, can you please not?"

He grumbled something again, but you chose not to entertain the Witcher. Instead you linked your hand with Jaskier's, sliding it against his arm until you were holding it and walking, leaning against him.

"I don't think Yennefer will take my revenge on your lute."

Geralt snorted next to you, and Jaskier threw his arms in the air, dramatically and you giggled teasingly.

"I thought you were on my side, [Y/N]. But I see that your priorities have changed."

Jaskier wiggled his brows dramatically and flush crept on your cheeks, your insides flaring up once again. Your heart almost felt like it stopped, and you couldn't bring yourself to take a look at the brooding man walking next to you. Finally, you mustered enough courage to look at him, but when you did, you realized that he was actually grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You too?" You growled at him and he stopped smiling.

"Jaskier isn't always wrong."

"Hey! I am NEVER wrong—"

"Geralt, I supported you. You're siding with him now?"

The three of you were talking at the exact same time and Mousesack abruptly stopped, turning towards you and all three of you stopped bickering, looking at him with embarassment on your faces.

"We all thought you were dead, Princess."

You looked at him in disbelief; he knew?

"My apologies, I didn't meant to startle you. I'm, uh, a druid. I know things, and I can feel powers. The minute you stepped into Cintra, I felt your presence," you blinked, "and Tissaia de Vries might have told me you would come?" He smiled at you.

"Does she know?" You asked, your voice coming out weaker— as though something was lodged to your throat.

He smiled, and nodded, "She does. She has been waiting to see you ever since the sorceress paid her a visit and told her you were alive."

As Mousesack stopped talking, you looked up to see that you were in a richly furnished chamber but it wasn't the chamber that surprised you, it was the woman that sat nervously by the edge of the king sized bed, her fingers nervously toying with each other. Another young girl stood in a corner, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

"Your Majesty, she is here," Mousesack announced.

Calanthe looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced at you from top to bottom as though she was trying to fit your memory into her mind. She blinked, ignoring how thick chunks of tears now flew from her eyes and she stood up, almost trembling like a leaf.

"Come here, sweet child?"

You didn't know what came over you. Maybe, it was the fact that you didn't ever experience the love of a mother. Or maybe, you were going to be a mother yourself, so you knew what a mother's role was. You ran towards her, and she almost choked on a smile as you ran into her arms, burying your face into her chest as her fingers began stroking your hair.

"I can't believe it's you, sweet child. I never thought..I'd get to hold you in my arms. Look at you. You're.. grown up," you pulled back, and her palm came to rest against your cheek, her thumb stroking it gently.

"What's your name? I never.. got to name you."

"It's [Y/N], mother."

Ciri awkwardly walked up to her grandmother's side, her fingers clenching the Queen's garment, her blue eyes looked at you.

You looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Meet Ciri, [Y/N]. Your niece."

You sat back, trying to get more comfortable in the utterly soft chair on the Queen's table; your back hurt like a bitch.

Calanthe nodded at one of the lords who took her hand and plastered a kiss against her knuckles and she gave a fake smile before turning to you and muttered, "The child giving you trouble?" Her words ended with a glare towards the Witcher and you bit your lip.

"I'm fine, mother."

"I can't believe you brought that wretched bastard with you, [Y/N]. Men like those, treating our bodies like we are nothing but a fucking commodity."

She took a sip of ale, her eyes not leaving Geralt who stood in the farther end of the hall, drinking ale from a pitcher himself. Jaskier had taken the lute from the bard, borrowed it actually, and was now entertaining the guests.

"Mother, he isn't.. I mean.. I know this all doesn't paint the right picture, but Geralt has been kind to me."

"Kind? You would call a man who used your body just for the sake of having a child? And look where it got you—" She hissed.

"Mother—"

"Calanthe, my love," Eist intervened, and you swallowed the lump forming inside your throat, your eyes fixed on the Witcher.

"Fine but he needs to leave. Before I ask him to leave myself," Calanthe growled.

Your heart sank at this, and to make this worse, Geralt was right there in front of your eyes and your heart aches to go talk to him but you didn't want to anger your mother, especially when you had met her for the first time in your life.

You sat up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, your chest heaving up and down. You had seen the sorceress in your nightmare and she was smirking, holding your baby in her hands. What made it worse was the fact that Geralt was next to her, holding her by her waist, as he bent down to kiss the forehead of his child.

You swiped your palm over your face as reality sank back in and you realized that it was just a nightmare— you were in Cintra. You were safe.

You laid back down in bed, closing your eyes so you could fall back into a deep slumber yet again, only hoping that the sorceress wouldn't torture you in your dreams again.

For a few minutes, you kept tossing and turning in bed, your body churning in discomfort. You couldn't sleep.

You sat up once again, rubbing your belly, trying to comfort your unborn baby, until something struck your mind.

You decided to explore the palace, for this was your first time you had actually been to one, and ironically, this was your home. You slid into your robe, tying it securely around your blossoming waist as you stepped out of the chambers, holding just a candlestick to help you look around.

You wandered aimlessly through the palace confines for a few minutes, exploring.

It was only after fifteen minutes or so, you decided to check out the other tower. Only, you had no idea that the other tower was the guest tower where Geralt and Jaskier were staying the night.

Geralt frowned, squinting his eyes as he threw back his head, downing the contents of the pitcher in one go. He looked at Jaskier, who had a blonde woman curled against his lap, his fingers fondling her thigh. Shaking his head, the Witcher slammed the pitcher onto the table and pushed himself up.

He pushed his way through the overly drunk guests at the celebration, his only goal now to reach his own chambers for the night so he could get a peaceful sleep before the dawn came the next morning.

The hallways were quiet this side of the palace, and Geralt could practically hear the sound of his feet as he climbed the staircase towards his room.

Strangely, his eyes fell on you— you were sitting on the topmost staircase, staring at your hands, a look of exhaustion draped over your face.

"[Y/N].." Your name shot out of his lips like a prayer and he saw you look up, a look of relief reflecting in your eyes.

"Are you okay?"

The concern in his voice was like a sharp knife cutting through your heart, hurting just the right amount. You blinked, giving him the weakest of your smiles as you nodded and stood up. You were now on the top most step, and Geralt was on a step below you, so the man was just the same height as yours.

His eyes were golden, a fire lurking within his irises, his eyes although hollow and devoid of any emotion, for others, you could see a flicker in them, that made a warmth tingle inside of you somewhere.

"Couldn't sleep.. "

"Is it the baby?" He frowned, still looking at you, an inexplicable look on his face. It was only then that you felt something. When you lowered your eyes, you saw his palm pressed to your stomach.

It felt oddly intimate. It was just the two of you, in that hallway, and Geralt had his warm palm protectively draped over your belly— and as though the baby already knew who his father was, you felt a flip in your stomach.

"No, the baby is okay."

Relief filled him, and he gave you a flicker of a Ile before he placed his other hand on your arm and pushed you slightly towards the wall to step up the topmost stair, so he could tower over you.

"She haunts my dreams," you blurted out, although you didn't know why you said it and Geralt looked thoughtful for a bit.

"Mine too."

"In what way?"

Despite the crispness of the weather in Cintra, you could feel your blood running cold and your toes begin to tingle, not in a good way. You could feel the jealousy rise inside of you, and your nostrils flared.

"I see her as a monster."

"Not your lover?" You mumbled.

Geralt took a step closer, and you instinctively took a step backward, until your back was against the wall. The proximity between you two was almost that of a finger length, but you didn't mind.

He shook his head as he took a deep breath.

He smelled of ale and the forest— of nature.

"You're safe now. And so is our baby."

"Until when?"

It was all rainbows and sunshine, until thick black clouds fled up the sky, hiding the sun and it was all dark.

"I—" Geralt began speaking, but almost immediately, he fell quiet, and you blinked, waiting for him to speak but no words came out of his throat.

"What?" You asked.

"Do you regret this?"

The question pulled you off guard as you were least expecting it. Your eyes went from widened to confused, as you tilted you head slightly and placed your palm against your side, parallel to the wall and using it to support yourself.

Did you regret it?

"Which one? Having you use my body to find yourself a motive in life?" You asked, bitterly.

"Meeting me I mean."

"We didn't exactly meet in the best circumstances, Geralt," you chuckled nervously, bringing your palm to your front, your fingers hooking to his locket, as your fingers began toying with it, your eyes fixed on his, "the thing I remember, you fucked me on the Great Mount."

Geralt grunted under his breath, but he still leaned closer, letting his face dip, ever so slightly so that his lips were inclined to yours, aching to be pressed to them. He parted his lips, letting his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, as your fingers began trailing upwards, his locket now forgotten.

Geralt closed his eyes, the instant he felt your fingers run against his chest up to his neck, as you suddenly grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him closer, your noses now touching, and your chests heaving out of control.

"Tell me, Witcher, do Witchers dream?" You suddenly asked, your hand flying up to your head as you absentmindedly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Geralt's lips twitched, and his eyebrows creased slightly, as though he was thinking hard. Finally, his face moved slightly, just a light bob, signalling a nod.

"What do you dream of? What did you dream of most recently?"

He blinked, tilting his head, "I saw you. You were in the woods."

You were captivated by him; frozen on spot, and he didn't even touch you, or hold you. It was like there was an imaginary force binding him to you, drawing the two of you together.

"There was a woman long time back, I met her in Blaviken."

You bit your lip hard, a taste of metal flooding your tastebuds. Why was this making you jealous?

"I think I should go." You stepped away abruptly, and immediately took a step around, your hand flying to your heart, as you began fisting your fabric into a ball, your cheeks still heated up. Your steps were fast, and you didn't stop until you were at the end of the hallway when Geralt's voice rang out behind you, and you paused, just for a second but didn't turn around, only to let his words sink in. "Her name was Renfri. And she said something to me— The girl in the woods will be with you always. She is your destiny."

You gasped at the realization, his words slowly sinking into you, settling into everywhere in your body— your mind, your senses, your heart. You didn't look back, and instead you began running, towards the confines of your chambers, for you knew if you didn't, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from falling into his arms.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221 @jessyballet @strrynigxts @rn7rocks @theroyalbrownbarbie @amirra88

#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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This was based on an idea by @amadcat570 which I have totally deleted. Basically, Ice-skating, monsters, hurt comfort, love-confessions. Around 1.6k. Geraskier feat Ciri.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, drowning, angst, injury, but no death.

On AO3.

____________________

Jaskier was having the best time. He’d finally been invited to the elusive witcher’ keep in the Blue Mountains. Ciri, Geralt’s child surprise, had done wonders for his friend. Geralt was actually starting to open up to him. He’d spent decades of slowly chipping away at Geralt’s walls and worming his way into the witcher’s life, and the young princess had managed it in a matter of days. If Jaskier had doubted Destiny before then he certainly wouldn’t any longer. It had also been Ciri’s influence on Geralt that had forced the two estranged friends to reunite. Ciri had been devastated to learn that Geralt was no longer travelling with the famous bard, Jaskier, and practically begged Geralt to go and find him.

Jaskier had been in the middle of teaching a class when the door had flung open to reveal a very soggy Geralt of Rivia, dripping mud all over the floor. Ciri’s head had popped out from behind Geralt. Her long ashen hair had been hidden under a hat but Jaskier had recognised the emerald green eyes of Pavetta immediately. Jaskier had dismissed his class and the three of them had spent the next few hours awkwardly catching up in the classroom. Geralt’s apology had seemed genuine enough and Ciri was an utter delight so Jaskier agreed to join his ex-former friend once more.

Geralt was warmer with Ciri around and by the gods was that doing funny things to his heart. Geralt’s cruel words on the mountain had shattered the spell the witcher held over him. His puppy love crush on his best friend and melted away after weeks of sobbing every night in his rooms at Oxenfurt. Time apart had helped him to see his time with Geralt in a new light. The rose-tinted glasses faded away and his ballads became grittier and less like a fairytale, but now being around Geralt again he could see why he had loved him so irrevocably and for so long. There was a vulnerability in the witcher that he desperately tried to hide, a yearning for acceptance and love but the fear of being known. The duality of it tickled Jaskier’s curiosity and he so desperately wanted to know more, even after all these years of following Geralt.

He wanted to know Geralt’s warmth. He wanted that daft fond smile and fucking hell he wanted to love him, even after everything.

“Jaskier!” Ciri flew towards him in a blur. She’d been training with the witchers and it showed. She’d already been a fierce young princess before the training had commenced but she’d taken to the witchers’ workouts like a duck to water. Jaskier tried to balance it out with lessons in art and poetry but the princess would rather have a sword in hand than his lute. “Jaskier, Geralt is taking me to the frozen lake to go ice-skating! You have to come!”

Jaskier laughed and set aside the book he’d been reading. He tried to stay inside the warmth of the keep but he was a travelling bard, and his natural wanderlust was starting to itch under his skin. He hadn’t been ice-skating since he was child at Lettenhove. It would be fun. Maybe he could even convince Geralt to join them on the ice, he could pretend it was a sort of date?

Nah. That would be pathetic. He was above that.

“Ice-skating you say?”

Ciri nodded with a mischievous grin dancing on her lips. “It’s taken days of nagging but I finally wore him down.”

“Well then, come on! Let’s get our coats and gloves. Sadly, we’re only human, young witcher girl. We need to wrap up warm.” ________________________

If Jaskier had thought Ciri was a blur before, it was nothing compared to her skating. She streaked across the ice like lightning. It was as if she were some kind of mythical ice spirit. Her turquoise cloak flew out behind her and her long blonde hair whipped around her face as sharp blades cut into the ice. Geralt was watching from the shore, squatting under a tree with the hilt of his steel sword resting under his chin. Jaskier was a little unsteady on his feet. The ice was slipperier than he remembered and he was out of practice.

“Come on, bard!” Ciri giggled as she skated circles around him. He hissed and stumbled, almost falling on his arse for the third time.

“Leave him alone, Ciri,” Geralt called from the shore.

Jaskier winked at the witcher as he steadied himself. “I knew you cared!”

Geralt just rolled his eyes and shook his head but Jaskier knew his friend was secretly smiling under all his grumbling.

Ciri began to show off, jumping high in the air and spinning like a tornado. It was incredible. The rhymes and melodies about the Ice Princess were already forming in his mind. His fingers flexed as he itched for a quill or his lute. He would need to go back to the shore with Geralt. He needed to write this down before the idea faded away.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you bring my notebook in that bag of yours?”

Geralt sighed and pulled out Jaskier’s small leather-bound book where he scrawled most of his composing. Jaskier grinned and started to stumble back to solid ground when the ice cracked and he heard Ciri’s scream.

“Shit!” Geralt grabbed his silver sword and began running across the ice.

Jaskier spun round to see a kikimora crawling across the ice towards Ciri. It’s long spindly legs were scratching and sliding all over the ice. Ciri screamed again and Jaskier was thrown backwards. He landed hard against the ice and it cracked underneath him.

“Bollocks!” He tried to grip the ice but his gloves were soaked through and his legs fell into the icy water. “Geralt!”

“Jaskier!”

The ice was freezing and he couldn’t breathe. His fingers slipped on the ice and he fell underneath the surface. The water burned his lungs as he gasped. Fuck it was so cold. He could still hear Ciri’s screaming even through the water. He tried to swim upwards but there was a sudden pain in his head. The water around him turned red and he saw the dark black leg of the kikimora falling through the ice. He tried to call for Geralt as his vision began to spin. Water filled his lungs and he was so cold.

He was so cold…

Cold…

_________

He couldn’t be dead. Jaskier knew that much. Death could not hold so much pain. His head felt like he’d been drinking solidly for a week whilst being hit repeated in the temple with one of Geralt’s swords. His throat was burning and his chest felt tight. He gasped a shaky breath of air and winced as he opened his eyes.

“Jaskier?”

“G’ralt?”

“It’s me. I’m here.”

Jaskier blinked a couple of times. Even the dim torches of Kaer Morhen were painfully bright. He was wrapped up in what appeared to be every fur in the keep and…. was this Geralt’s bedroom?

He struggled to sit up and Geralt gently pushed him back down. “Oi,” he grumbled hoarsely.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

“How’s your bard?” Another voice asked. Jaskier couldn’t work out whether it was Lambert or Eskel. His head was ringing too loudly.

“Ciri?” Her screams, that was the last thing he remembered. They had been so loud. She must have been dying. “Where’s Ciri?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Yen now, but she didn’t get knocked out by a kikimora and almost drown, Jask. I… I thought I’d lost you. I should have been closer. I should have kept you safe.”

Jaskier was surprised by the pain in Geralt’s voice. This was the same man who had tossed him aside like a dirty rag, and now it seemed as if that was the last thing the witcher wanted. Jaskier was also suddenly aware that someone was holding his hand. He coughed as the burning in his throat tickled him and he squeezed Geralt’s hand.

“I’m alive,” he tried to reassure the witcher.

“Barely.”

Jaskier licked his lips and looked up at Geralt. His head ached behind his eyes and the room was still too bright but he needed to see Geralt. He need Geralt to see him.

“I’m alive because you saved me, and not just today, my dear. You have saved me in so many ways and so many times.”

Geralt growled and shook his head. “You were only ever in trouble because of me. You were hurt… because of me.”

Jaskier frowned and closed his eyes with a sigh. They were talking about the dragon hunt now. He could feel it in his bones. “You were trying to protect me.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “I couldn’t even managed to do that right.”

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly. “No, but I forgave you. It’s time you forgave yourself, my dear,” He coughed again as he felt sleep try to pull him back under. “Be here, when I wake up?”

Geralt hummed. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” Jaskier mumbled almost incoherently as the darkness took him once more.

He didn’t hear Geralt’s reply. He didn’t hear the words he’d been longing to hear since he was eighteen. Geralt knew this and he would repeat them again once Jaskier woke up, and again and again and again until the bard slowly began to believe him. For now, Geralt settled for placing a kiss on Jaskier’s brow. His heart was beating too fast in his chest for any witcher but he was a witcher in love and for once in his life he would allow himself to enjoy that feeling.

“I love you too, Jask.”

#the witcher #geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #ciri #winter prompt #christmas prompt #mind the warnings #wolfie's witcher writing

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bloededhoine · 3 years

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world building cause twn doesn't pt. 2: nilfgaard!

pt. 1 on the northern realms here

okay i'm making this because 1 witcher netflix is the most convoluted and confusing thing i've ever seen and does literally no world building and 2 special interest make autism brain go brr.

about this series

this is gonna be a multi part series about the witcher universe but this is all about nilfgaard!

ciri's timeline in twn encompasses the entirety of the first northern war, beginning with the attack on cintra and ending with the battle at sodden

the show ended in 1264 when we saw geralt meet ciri

this is just covering the human portions of nilfgaard. i'll talk about elven allied groups like the scoiatael later.

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

background

the witcher takes place on the continent, which is mainly divided between south and north

the north is a collection of many kingdoms while the south is basically just nilfgaard and its many territories, dependencies, provences, and vassal states.

some of these conquered areas include toussaint, vicovaro, nazair, and mettina

nilfgaard loves invading the north. a lot. like this is the driving force of most of the plot in the witcher.

basic info

nilfgaard an insanely powerful absolutist monarchy, ruled by an emperor who has a huge collection of talented mages, spies, commanders, and advisors

as of ciri's timeline in twn, the emperor is emhyr var emreis, or, to those on more intimate terms with him: the white flame dancing on the graves of his foes

[ID: middle aged white man with slicked back shoulder length greying black hair. he is wearing a black dress with a red and black embroidered shirt underneath. he is wearing a gold medallion around his neck, has black leather boots, and is holding a silver goblet. end ID]

emhyr is crazy important, both as a character and to the politics of the witcher. he's also a member of the house of emreis, which i'll go into detail on in a bit.

he is also a major walking spoiler, so i won't talk about him in the context of twn or the books

nilfgaard is divided between the "heart" of the empire, also known as lower alba or simply nilfgaard, and the conquered territories, dependencies, provinces, etc

for all of nilfgaard's imperialism, it does allow these areas to retain a lot of their original cultural identity, to the point where someone from vicovaro would not really consider themself nilfgaardian

this works out because nilfgaard would not consider a vicovarian nilfgaardian either

lower alba

lower alba is the home of "real" nilfgaardians, and is also where the capital city is located

theres a bit of racism and racial purity here: lower albans consider themselves superior to the rest of humans due to their elven ancestry

this elven ancestry is also why nilfgaard is far more sympathetic to nonhumans than the north and uses a language similar to hen llinge (elder speech)

there are a LOT of notable albans, so i'll just keep it to the important ones and my favourites: carthia van canten aka cantarella, morvran voorhis, stefan skellen, the house of emreis, and vattier de rideaux

the capital, known as the city of golden towers or simply nilfgaard, is home to the imperial palace, where the emperor spends most of his time

i say most because there is also a summer residence at loc grim palace

now that we know the basics of the core empire, let's visit the other territories!

toussaint

the duchy of toussaint is one of the most important nilfgaardian states, and definitely the most beautiful. it's main economy is in wine

toussaint actually has no secret service or military, something quite rare on the continent. it does however, have a large system of knights errant that love chivalry

the capital is beauclaire, which is where the duke/duchess live

as of twn, its ruler is the duchess anna henrietta. i'll let you all make your own assumptions about the lovely annarietta

also for some reason in toussaint, people have 2 names that are smushed together. so anna henrietta becomes annarietta, sylvia anna becomes syanna, carolina roberta becomes caroberta etc

annarietta is also distantly related to emhyr, her great grandfather is the half brother of emhyr's father

the most notable toussaintois are the mages fringilla and artorius vigo

here's fringilla in twn. [ID: young black woman in a long sleeve grey-blue cloak. her hair is pulled back and she is looking slightly up and to the right with a blank expression. end ID]

vicovaro

"THERE ONCE WAS A MAID FROM VICOVARO..."

okay vicovaro is vassal state near the southernmost part of the empire, but we know it more for the people from it than what it actually is

there is an actual ruler, but the state is largely controlled by two key houses: the var anahid family and the dyffryn family

the capital is vicovaro, but the houses have their own land. we don't really hear about the var anahids, but the dyffyn house controls dyffra

notable vicovarians include assire var anahid and cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach. cahir in twn is right there.

[ID: young white man in black armour. he has an angular face and brown slicked back hair. he is scowling]

mettina

okay mettina is a bit confusing since it is the shared name for three different places. the first is the administrative unit mettina, which includes the provence mettina (2) and the provence maecht. in the provence there is also the capital city mettina (3).

tor lara aka the tower of the swallow is in mettina, and not much else tbh

maecht was the home of duny (that little man) for an unspecified number of years

[ID: young white man with dark curly hair. his face is dirty and sweaty and he is frowning slightly]

"wait! i thought duny was the urcheon of erlenwald, and that's in cintra!" don't... don't think too hard about duny. he lived in mettina for a while and took a trip to cintra where he met pavetta.

ebbing

for all intents and purposes, ebbing is an autonomous state, although nilfgaardians do have a hand on the wheel

includes salm, a technically sovereign provence, but is de facto dependent on ebbing

ebbing is most notably home to stygga castle, the one time fortress for the school of the cat, and bounty hunter leo bonhart

also, roegner of ebbing, pavetta's father, is from here

nazair

nazair is kinda the least important of the more important nilfgaardian dependencies

it was independent for a while but was conquered by cintra under queen calanthe and then nilfgaard under emperor emhyr

its main industries are cinnabrite and silver, both luxury goods

the only mildly important nazairi is becca of nazair, ciri's 6 times great grandmother

other minor areas

alba, toussaint, ebbing, and vicovaro are really the only important nilfgaardian areas, although mettina and nazair are mentioned quite a bit. borders change a lot, especially with an imperialist power, but this is the general list of nilfgaardian areas as of the first northern war

regions - daerlan (notable for military), eiddon (owned and ruled by alban spy vattier de rideaux), liddertall, magne, rowan, ruach, slopes (home to haern caduch, the bear school fortress), tarnhann, winneburg, and ymlac

provences - angren provence (contains dol angra, a profitable trade route), cintra (1264-1268), etolia, gemmera, geso, mag turga, mettina (contains kingdoms mettina and maecht), and nazair

vassals - cintra (after 1268), ebbing, toussaint, and vicovaro

tl;dr: the most important part of nilfgaard is lower alba, which is surrounded by many dependencies including toussaint, vicovaro, nazair, and mettina.

thank you for reading! i'm definitely gonna make more parts and will link them here when i do!

#the witcher #twn #wild hunt #the witcher netflix #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #tw3 #geralt x jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher #geraskefer #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #mine #gen tag #lore tag #haven't got a fucking queue

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Baby mine

It’s here. The sad sad evil thing is here. I am so sorry, I got a dash of sad and this happened. I came to think of Dumbo’s Baby mine, and I wanted Yennefer to curl up with Ciri. And then it turned painful. (If you wondered what it sounded like in swedish.)

CW: Sad. Losing a parent, grief, mention of sickness. Just, generalt pain and sadness.

Do not read if you are feeling sad, please, take care of yoruself and stay safe <3 On Ao3 here

Summary: Yennefer and Ciri watches Dumbo, while Geralt is with Pavetta on the hospital. Words: 570

I’m sorry.

Ciris favorite movie was always Dumbo. The old one from 1970-something. Yennefer still has nightmares from it, the drunken elephants on parade, she never lets Ciri see that part when she is around.

And she is. And will be, for a long, long time to come.

Geralt is with Pavetta in the hospital. They decided Ciri shouldn’t be there, not for this. They already said goodbye.

She is only five, she has already seen so much, been at that blasted hospital too much.

They have prepared everything. Ciri, bless her, picked out the things she wants for her new room with the seriousness only a child her age can muster. Butterflies and dinosaurs, and for some interesting reason a potato painting.

And now, they sit together on the couch. It is way past her bedtime, but Yennefer can’t bring herself to put her to bed.

They know it probably will be tonight.

Yennefer watches Dumbo's mother fight, get cast in chains. Ciri is leaning against her, tucked safely under her arm in a bundle of blankets. Her eyes are big and glassy, engrossed in the scenes on the screen.

The phone vibrates on the table. Her heart sinks, breaks, hurts. Her eyes sting.

Fuck.

It’s from Geralt.

‘She is gone.’

Yennefer draws in a ragged breath. Fuck. Fuck!

Ugly tears, angry and sad of the unfairness of it all, they well up and spill.

“Yen?” Ciri asks quietly, looking up at her with worry.

Yen breaks. Sobs.

On the screen, Dumbo's mother is in a cage, pulling her baby close.

Baby mine, don’t you cry, she sings.

“Come here, cub.” Yennefer says through her tears, gathering Ciri up in her lap.

‘Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine’

Ciri comes willingly, her small head under Yennefer's chin, tiny arms hugging her back, her feet tucked under her. Yennefer tries to hold it together.

Pavetta had been sick a long time. Even before Ciri was born. It wasn’t fair.

“Is mother in heaven now?” Ciri asks. She knows too. Knows that they were to part.

“She is, darling. She is watching us from above now..”Yennefer says, petting her hair, pressing her lips to it.

Ciri sniffles into Yennefer's throat, and they hold each other close.

‘You are so precious to me, baby of mine.’

When Geralt comes home, Ciri is asleep against Yennefer's chest. The movie is paused, it is silent and dark. Yennefer is staring blankly ahead, gently rocking Ciri in her arms.

It’s been hours.

Geralt is tired, exhausted to his very bones. It has been a terrible few weeks, preparing for the worst day of their lives. And the last of hers.

But Pavetta is free from the pain now.

Without any words he goes to Yennefer. She looks up at him with her big eyes, cheeks wet with tears. She looks every bit as terrible as he feels.

He reaches out his arms, offering to carry Ciri upstairs. But Yennefer shakes her head, adjusting her grip so she can carry their tiny charge herself.

Gods, he loves this woman.

They make their way up the stairs, passing by Ciris room and heading straight to theirs. They lay down with Ciri between them, holding each other close.

Tomorrow feels so far away.

But they have each other. With her by his side, he will give their little cub everything he has.

#mcd #tw major character death #modern au #grief #ciri and yennefer #yenralt #the witcher #i made myself cry #baby mine #cuddling #pain #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #pavetta #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #i am sad now

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lesdemonium · 4 years

Note

42,44, or 54 for the prompts list? 🥰 i wasn’t sure if one of them had been done so i thought i’d mention all three 😂 (by the way i just discovered your blog and i am making myself at home here)

please make yourself at home! i am very happy to have you!! your comments have been making my day!!!

surprisingly i have not written any of these! so i picked the one that gave me an idea immediately haha. (does almost 2000 words count as a drabble? asking for a friend)

42) things you said when you asked me to marry you

“Geralt, do you think you’ll ever get married?”

Geralt looked up and raised an eyebrow at Jaskier, but Jaskier wasn’t even looking at him. It was a strange question to ask your best friend, out of the blue, while you were thumbing through a book on medieval fashion. Though, Geralt had to admit, it wasn’t the strangest question Jaskier had asked him. Geralt let his head fall back against the bed and shrugged, even if Jaskier didn’t see it.

“I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve thought about it too much. Will you?” Geralt answered.

“I suppose. Eventually. It’d have to be the right person, though.” Jaskier hummed a bit, considering. “You and Yennefer haven’t talked about it? Isn’t that topic supposed to come up after two years together?”

Geralt scoffed. “I am sure Yen will never get married. She doesn’t seem the type.”

“So that means you won’t, either, then?”

“If Yen decides she wants to get married, then I’ll get married. Assuming it’s me she wants to marry.”

Jaskier hummed, and the conversation moved on.

Jaskier was drunk, and heartbroken, and currently hanging on Geralt so thoroughly that Geralt was sure if he were to move too quickly, Jaskier would face plant into the ground. He didn’t move too quickly. Only urged his friend through the streets to their apartment.

“I’ll never marry,” Jaskier announced, and it was just a little too dramatic to sound melancholy. “I’ll die a broken-hearted man.”

“You were with ‘The Countess’ for three months. Don’t tell me you were already considering marriage.”

Jaskier patted at Geralt’s arm. “Just because you dated someone for three years without considering marriage doesn’t mean we’re all the same! I think I’d like to be married. If only someone would love me enough.” As he spoke, Jaskier’s voice became more and more miserable, but his game was betrayed by the way his cheek, pressed against Geralt’s bicep, hardened with a smile.

“If you want to get married, you’ll get married. Hopefully to someone you’ve known longer than three months.” It was meant to be a reassurance, but Geralt found it sounded a lot like a promise.

“Aren’t weddings beautiful?” Jaskier asked dreamily.

Geralt scoffed into his drink. Jaskier looked seconds away from composing a new song, and Geralt figured it was probably best to let him go. There would be no stopping him.

And, really, he was right. Pavetta and Duny’s wedding was beautiful. Geralt had never much cared for weddings in general, they were always so long and boring. It was different, though, when it was someone close to you. Pavetta and Duny looked so happy together, and even Geralt had to admit both the ceremony and reception were beautiful. He wasn’t about to wax poetry about it like Jaskier was, but he was enjoying himself.

“Look at you, smiling!” Jaskier teased. Geralt turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, sure, look at me and stop smiling. You’re kind of a dick sometimes, you know? Don’t know why I put up with you.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and stood up, offering Jaskier his hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”

Jaskier didn’t need telling twice, though he did look a bit mystified by the offer. Geralt and Jaskier danced to the next three songs before the DJ started winding down, and everyone prepared to leave.

Before they kicked them out, Geralt tugged Jaskier under a flowered archway and kissed him, soft and slow. He had never been good at words, never knew what to say, but Jaskier responded well to action, and even Geralt knew the action was romantic. Their first kiss, under an archway, at their best friends’ wedding. It all seemed rather perfect.

“What about you two?” Triss asked, poking Jaskier with her foot.

Jaskier turned to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. He had to turn in Geralt’s lap to do so, and Geralt would have put up more of a fight about Jaskier moving away from him, if everyone wasn’t suddenly looking at them.

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked.

“You’ve been together, officially, how long now? And, let’s be real, unofficially long before that. When are you two going to get married?” Triss flaunted her ring, as if to reiterate her point, but Geralt knew it really was because she liked calling attention to it. He couldn’t blame her. Yen had outdone herself.

“Seriously,” Yen added. “I can’t believe I’m getting married before Jaskier. Always thought you’d have gotten yourself a shotgun wedding by now.”

“Har har,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. He turned and looked at Geralt, then shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it. It hasn’t seemed all that... pressing.”

Both women hummed, and Yennefer stood to get more wine. Geralt’s fingers trailed up and down Jaskier’s back, but Geralt was lost in thought for the rest of the evening.

“Do you want to get married?”

Jaskier propped himself up on his forearms, peering at Geralt. Geralt resolutely did not look back, just kept his eyes trained to the ceiling, even when Jaskier drew closer and draped himself over Geralt’s bare chest. Jaskier trailed his fingers through Geralt’s chest hair, trying to appear nonchalant as he shrugged. Geralt didn’t believe him.

“Why do you ask? Don’t tell me you’re going to propose right now. I’d like to at least be less sweaty and wearing something if you ask me,” Jaskier said, smiling up at Geralt as he pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s collarbone.

“No, I’m not proposing. I’m not sure if that’s even something you would want. I’d want to be sure of your answer before asking,” Geralt said, huffing a bit.

“Did Triss and Yen get in your head? You know I am very happy, right? I don’t need to have some slip of paper that says you’re mine. I already know you are.”

Geralt frowned and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. Though, it probably would have been better to keep his face slightly obscured, for the way Jaskier was scrutinizing him now.

“Darling, you’re doing that thing with your face. I’m very concerned about what’s going on in your head right now, but I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.” Jaskier leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw.

Geralt sighed, frowning at Jaskier. “You’re not answering my question, Jaskier.”

“I don’t know how to answer if I don’t know the purpose of the question. What do you want to know, here, Geralt?”

“I want to know if you want to get married.”

Jaskier sighed and dropped his head for a moment. Then he pulled away and sat up, and Geralt could tell by the careful way he was turning his face away that Jaskier didn’t want his expression to say more than his words did.

“Yes, I do. I’ve always wanted that with the right person. I like the... official-ness of it. Plus, the legal aspects and protections. If you were to get sick, I don’t know if the hospital would let me visit you. And it’s... romantic. So, yes, I would like to get married. But you don’t, and it’s not that important to me--”

“When did I say I don’t?” Geralt asked, confused.

Jaskier turned back to Geralt, his face incredulous. “Only all the time, Geralt. I asked you years ago, and you basically made it sound as if you’d only get married if someone made you. And you’ve never expressed any sort of interest in it otherwise. Even your congratulations to people are a bit... weird. You have made it abundantly clear that you have no interest in marriage. And I’m not interested in forcing you into that if you don’t want it.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea, Jask. I just haven’t thought about it much.” Geralt shrugged.

“Well,” Jaskier said, waving his hand in front of him expectantly. “Think about it now, then. Do you want to get married?”

Geralt thought about it. It was hard to picture. The wedding itself sounded stressful and long, and he still found it all to be a bit boring. But the way Triss lit up as she showed off her ring, and how happy Pavetta and Duny looked as they danced together at their reception. Geralt shrugged.

“I would want to marry you,” he answered. “Marriage in general, I can’t say I particularly care. But marriage to you sounds... nice.”

Jaskier laughed. “Thank god you don’t make your living with words, Geralt. Considering I just about swooned at you using the word nice to describe marrying me. Are you still trying to convince me you’re not a closet romantic? It won’t work. I’ve known you far too long to believe that particular lie.” Despite his teasing, Jaskier’s grin was beautiful, blinding, even.

Geralt pulled himself forward and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist. He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder. “So. We want to get married.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cup Geralt’s face. Geralt rested his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Yes, we want to get married. But I’m serious, Geralt. This doesn’t count as a proposal. I don’t need anything flashy--” Geralt scoffed, “--I don’t, and I don’t like what you’re implying. But I would like at least to be wearing clothes.”

They didn’t officially celebrate Pavetta and Duny’s anniversary as their own--Jaskier had felt it might be a bit too attention-grabbing, and Geralt had to agree. Usually, they celebrated their first date as their official anniversary.

Geralt wanted the element of surprise to be on his side, though. And he knew Jaskier would appreciate the romanticism in this.

Clearly it had worked out, because when Jaskier came to the roof, he looked completely perplexed. Clearly he had found Geralt’s cryptic note to meet him on the roof, and as Jaskier took in the lights, the picnic set up on the coffee table he had stolen from their living room, and Geralt himself, Jaskier’s eyes grew as wide as Geralt had ever seen them.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, walking toward Geralt on shaky legs. “No one ever believes me when I tell them what a romantic you are. It’d be a tragedy if I wasn’t so glad I could keep it all for myself.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh and took Jaskier’s face in his hands, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, Jaskier was grinning at him, and Geralt was helpless but to press their lips together once more. When he pulled away the second time, he was resolute in it, even as Jaskier gasped when Geralt lowered himself to his knee.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz--” Jaskier snorted, and Geralt grinned. “Jaskier. Don’t expect me to get wordy.”

“Never, darling,” Jaskier interrupted, thumbing Geralt’s cheekbone.

“I love you. I’m happy with you. And nothing would make me happier than to marry you and know that you are mine for the rest of our days and even longer. Will you marry me?”

Jaskier blinked rapidly, trying to dispell the tears forming in his eyes, and tugged Geralt up. They wrapped their arms around each other and Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder.

“Yes, Geralt. Of course. Nothing would make me happier.”

Though Jaskier (and Geralt, too, for once) was bursting with wanting to tell everyone, they held back for three days, until their official anniversary. Their secret anniversary would remain theirs, just theirs, even long after their wedding.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #gerlion #my writing #drabbles #ask meme #astouract

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

The Frog Princess. Chapter 8

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

We rode for days, due northeast; each mile we put behind us bringing me closer to my inevitable end. At least, that was how it felt. I felt my limbs growing stronger from riding and carrying wood for fires; and though the sun was never shining brightly; my skin grew more tanned by the day.

Geralt had begun to train me with the sword he’d taken from O’Dimm’s man. I wasn’t a skilled swordswoman by any means; but I was sure I’d be able to defend myself in a fair fight. We made breaks for eating, resting, training, arguing, making up; and the occasional fuck against a tree – a least once a day, on a bad day.

On one of these occasions; in his eagerness; Geralt almost ripped the buttons off the breeches Ajvin had given me. “Fuck!”, he growled. “I don’t like these things; they make it too difficult to have you”. “You were the one who insisted I need new clothes”, I laughed. “Besides, practicality over easy access”. I opened the buttons myself, and slid down the breeches over my bottom; before bracing myself against a tree with my hands, and pushing my backside out.

Geralt accepted the invitation, and felt for my wetness; before pushing himself into me, slowly. “I thought you were in a hurry”, I breathed in complaint. Geralt pulled himself back; and slammed back into me, hard. “Shit!”, I cried out. “Too much?”, Geralt chuckled hoarsely. One of his hands held on to my hip; the other found my nub, and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts. “W-why do you always ask that?”, I panted. He slid his arm around my torso, and took a light hold of my throat; pulling me flush against his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you”, he said, kissing my neck. “You haven’t yet”, I smiled; before groaning loudly, as he pushed himself hard into me again.

He let me come before finding his own relief – as always; inside me. I suspected it was his way of making his mark on me – even if we both knew there was no chance of a child coming out of it.

After cleaning myself up – with a clean wet cloth provided by an embarrassed looking Geralt – I straightened my clothes. I’d had to make alterations to them – clearly they were Ajvids own old clothing; including the purple shirt that hung low on my shoulders. My new outfit furthermore consisted of dark grey breeches, that I’d adjusted so they hung snugly to my frame – making a certain witcher have to occasionally adjust himself, when I bent over – and a dark brown leather jerkin, without sleeves. I still had my grey cloak; which kept me somewhat warm during the nights, when Geralt had to patrol the area around our camps for sounds he’d heard – and therefore could not lay next to me.

There was a strange domesticity to our days. As if we’d be travelling like this for the rest of our lives. But we won’t, I kept reminding myself.

The man travelling with me – my lover, my friend, my confidant – was transporting me closer and closer to a land further from mine than I had ever been. The man who spent most of his nights between my legs and staring into my eyes; was handing me over to a stranger, who would from then on have a claim on doing those things himself. The thought made me sick to my stomach; but I kept returning to it, to remind myself – so that my heart wouldn’t break as much when the day came that our journey was at an end.

The glade we were occupying was quiet. Food had been scarce for a few days, as we hadn’t come across any villages; and it seemed that most of the wildlife had fled. I sat by the dying embers at our fire, thinking.

“I want to see Mousesack”, I said, catching Geralt of guard. “Why?”, he asked, voice gruff. “He has information for me. The butcher’s wife said so”. Geralt poured a bowl of water over the embers. “He’s going the opposite direction than we are”, he said dismissively. “Who’s eager to reach our destination now?”, I mumbled.

Geralt went to pack Roach’s saddlebags. He still kept our horses apart, for fear that Bayrd should act on his carnal desires towards his mare. “I don’t want to do this now”, he said. “Do what?”, I asked. “Fight”, he answered. “I’m not fighting”, I said, standing to kick dirt into the smoking ashes in front of me. “I’m stating facts. You made a contract to transport me to Temeria. You are acting on it. I’m just surprised you were in such a hurry to get rid of me”. I clenched my jaw.

Geralt grunted, and continued his task, moving on to Bayrds saddle. “I understand it, you know”, I said, putting on my cloak. “You’re a witcher. I age; and you do not. Besides, you’ve already had me every which way you could want”. “Stop…”, he muttered. “It’s inevitable that you were bound to get sick of me at some point…”, my voice broke. “Stop!”, he roared.

He strode up to me; and took my face in his hands. “Y/N”, he said. “You are the furthest thing from easy to be around. You are stubborn; rash; you never listen… and your mushroom stew is bad enough to kill a dead man”. He put his forehead to mine. “And I would have you no other way. I wish I could keep you; but that’s not how destiny has made it”. “Fuck destiny”, I snarled. He chuckled. “If only I could”, he answered. He kissed my forehead; and wrapped his arms around me. My eyes welled up, and I cried against his shoulder.

“I have to see Mousesack”, I whispered through my tears. Geralt exhaled. “I know. But I don’t know where to find him for you”, he said. “We can’t go backwards…”.

He was interrupted by a rumbling of hooves, that almost made the ground quake. He pushed me towards the trees. “Go! Cover your face. Don’t let them see you!”, he hissed, and pulled his sword from his back. I ran to Bayrd, and grabbed my new sword; then fled towards the edge of the trees; crouching behind the largest one I could find.

The riders approaching bore Cintran colors. It was a large group; of about 20 men; all dressed in armor. I saw Geralt glance in my direction, before facing the rider at the front.

“Witcher!”, the man called. “What is your business so close to Ortagor?”. Geralt relaxed his stance. “I have a contract”, he answered. “A bruxa. Near the border of Sodden”. “And your companion?”, the man asked. “I have no companion”, Geralt said. “Since when do witchers travel with two horses?”, the man barked.

Geralt put his sword back in its sheath. “No answer?”, the soldier said. “You’d do best to respect your betters, mutant”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “Right!”, the soldier called to the men behind him. “Take the mare. As a gift for her majesty’s war efforts”. Geralt snarled and went to draw his sword again.

“Calm the fuck down, Thaggert!”, a familiar voice called. “I have enough horses. Besides, I like the stallion better”.

From the middle of the group of riders, strode a tall woman; dressed in intricately decorated armor. She got of her horse, and walked up to Geralt; flanked by two of the soldiers. “Witcher”, she hissed. I recognized her instantly. Calanthe. The Lioness of Cintra!

“Your majesty”, Geralt grumbled; and nodded slightly. Nothing in the world could get him to bow to anyone, I knew that – something that at that moment made me fear for his life.

“You made a promise!”, she snarled. “I did, your majesty. And I am upholding that promise as we speak”, Geralt answered her. “I am here for a contract”. “What contract?”, Calanthe demanded. “As I told your man”, he replied. “Bruxa. Near Sodden”. Calanthe spat at the ground. “Horse shit”, she said. “We were just coming from Sodden; no word of vampires there. Tell me the truth”. Geralt exhaled slowly. “Men!”, Calanthe called. The soldiers drew their swords.

“He’s here with me!”, I yelled; and stepped out from behind the tree. Geralt looked at me angrily. I sent him an indifferent look back. “You? Show your face girl”, Calanthe barked.

I stepped into the glade, and pulled down my hood. Calanthes face lit up. “Y/N!”, she laughed. “What are you doing here, girl?”. She stomped up to me, and took me in her arms for a tight squeeze. “Lower your weapons, men. This is the lady Y/N, my husband’s cousin”, she said; and patted my cheek. “And; the future queen of Temeria!”.

The soldiers on the ground took a knee, and the ones still on horses bowed their necks to me. I felt a strange knot in my stomach. “Where is your guard, girl? Your following?”, she asked. I nodded in the direction of Geralt. “Him?”, Calanthe asked; frowning bewilderedly at me. “He is… my guard”, I answered. Calanthe stepped back, looking from me to Geralt. “What in Hels ass was Eist thinking?”, she snarled. Calanthe was married to a Skelliger, not one herself – but she had taken on some of our profanities; at least the ones she liked.

I walked towards Geralt. “My cousin seemed to find it a necessity to keep my travel arrangements a mystery to certain parties. So, he hired the witcher”. The queen laughed sarcastically. “Oh, I am going to have words with my husband”, she growled.

One of the riders called out to her. “Your majesty; Ortagor awaits your arrival”. Calanthe sighed. “Yes, yes. Someone is always awaiting my arrival”, she groaned. “We take them with us. The lady rides along side me… the witcher takes the back. Keep an eye on him”.

Geralt sent me a poignant look, and went to saddle up on Roach. Before he got all the way over to the mare; Calanthe grasped his arm and looked at him – her eyes ablaze. “If it wasn’t for my cousin-in-law, your head would be rolling on the ground!”. Geralt tried for a mediating expression. “Your majesty…”. “Don’t!”, Calanthe hissed. “If I hear you’ve been asking about the child – even so much as mentioned Pavetta – I’ll personally cut of your bollocks, and feed them to my dogs!”.

My heart dropped. Geralts eyes found mine for a second; before falling to the ground. Calanthe let go of his arm, and went back to join her men.

I went to saddle up, my hands shaking so much in the process, I almost lost my footing in the stirrup. One of the soldiers on the ground grabbed my calf; and helped me up. I could feel Geralts eyes on us.

---

The ride to Ortagor wasn’t long; but it felt like an eternity. I was deep in thought.

“How is my husband?”, Calanthe suddenly asked from beside me. She’d caught me off guard. “What?”, I said. She chuckled at me. “I said, how is my husband?”. I smiled. “Well, last I saw him. No less annoying, no more regal”, I said. “Good”, the queen laughed. “And his bed?”. Her eyes were suddenly hard. “Empty, save for him”, I assured her. She grunted, satisfied.

We rode on in silence for a little while. “And… the princess Pavetta. How does she fare?”, I asked as casually as I could. Calanthes face hardened slightly. “About to pop”, she said. “She’s going the way you came. Eist convinced me she should give birth in Skellige, for some reason”. I felt a rush of blood to my head. “Oh!”, I said. “I didn’t know. Congratulations!”. Calanthe scoffed. I tried to smile. “And the father is?...”. “Not who I would have picked”, she snarled. “But... no matter now. The child will be loved and raised by the right people”. I smiled and nodded; wanting to scream.

We arrived at the fortress of Ortagor to great fanfare; the crowds cheering for their queen. All around people were celebrating the arrival of the Great Lioness; with drink and music. Great, I thought. Another feast. Just what I needed. I was in no mood for any celebrations myself.

We unsaddled, and followed the queen towards the great hall. I suddenly felt a tug on my arm. Geralt was looking at me with hard eyes. “Little frog…”, he said. “Not now”, I stopped him, and pulled my arm from his grasp.

“Witcher!”, Calanthe called from behind us. “Lady Y/N is perfectly safe within these walls. We have no need for you. Go do whatever it is, your kind do”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “My kind eat, drink and rest when we can”, he said. She looked at him dismissively. “You can do that at the other end of the hall; where I don’t have to look at you”, she said. “Come, girl. We have feasting to do!”.

I followed the queen into the hall – having much rather wanted to find a dark corner to calm myself. As the door opened; horns blazed a salute. “Yes, yes. Fuck off. I’m here now”, Calanthe growled, and threw her helmet at a servant. “Music!”.

A familiar voice began a song I had heard before.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared, with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair. She held the heart of many a man; but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”

Jaskier!

“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee”

The crowd sang along to the chorus.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”

Jaskier strummed the last chord to a roar of applause. He bowed and sent air kisses to a buxom redhaired girl standing nearby.

I sat down next to Calanthe at the head table; and soon food and drinks were placed in front of us. Catching Jaskiers eye; he rushed over. “Your majesty”, he said; and bowed so deep his nose was almost touching the floor. “My lady Y/N!”. “You know each other?”, Calanthe asked. I cleared my throat cautiously. “We met in Skellige”. Calanthe grinned. “No…”, she laughed. “You’re the foulbreathed princess?”. “Foulmouthed, your majesty”, Jaskier smiled. “I’m quite certain there’s nothing wrong with the lady’s breath”. I chuckled nervously. “My lady, where is…”, he began. “The witcher”, I interrupted, sending him a poignant look. “He is somewhere in the hall; probably buried in some servant girl’s cleavage”. Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “As he does…”, he said.

Calanthe threw a gold coin at the bard. “Go. Do your work, minstrel. I want music and cheering. It’s been a long day”. Jaskier bowed. “As you wish your majesty”. He sent me a final look, and went back to the makeshift stage in the middle of the room, to play for the dancing crowds.

“So”, Calanthe said, smiling at me. “You’re on your way to Foltest, I’m told”. “I am”, I replied. “You seem… less than pleased”, she continued. I sighed. “Am I supposed to be pleased to be shipped of to a man twice my age? – with an inbred daughter to boot…”, I said; and took a sip from the goblet in front of me. Calanthe tightened her lips. “Temeria is not much different than Skellige”, she said. “Less water surrounding it… The winters are cold as a witch’s tit, but the summers are bearable”. I scoffed. “It’s not the weather that concerns me”.

Realizing the quail in front of me had been served without utensils for carving it; I pulled my knife from my boot, and cut in to the bird – ravished from the last few days lack of real food.

Calanthe smirked. “Travelling with the witcher has made you rough, Y/N”. I looked down at my dirty nails; realizing she was right. “I told Eist to get you your sgian-dubh for your 15’th birthday”. Calanthe and Eist had been sending each other eyes for years before they were married in a small ceremony, I’d heard very little about. She’d visited for my coming of age celebration years before – mostly, I think, to see my cousin. “He wanted to give you a new dress”. I laughed out loud. “Of course he did”, I said. “Yes, well”, she continued. “I would have gotten one for Pavetta, but apparently that is cultural appropriation”, she sneered. I held my tongue.

She looked at me solemnly. “He cares for you deeply, Y/N. I know this isn’t the union you’d dreamt of… but it is the right move”. “For your war?”, I said hesitantly, careful not to look the lioness in the eyes – admittedly, she scared me, and for good reason. “It’s true”, Calanthe admitted. “Foltest has promised his help in the war effort, in return for his marriage to you; and the dowry you bring with you”.

We were quiet for a while. “The witcher”, the queen began again. “He protects you well?”. I half smiled. “He does”, I said. She took a long sip from her goblet. “And in bed?” My face turned white. “I-i… that’s not…”, I tried. “Come now, Y/N”, Calanthe smirked. “I’ve seen how he looks at you”. “And how’s that?”, I said; trying for dismissive. “Like you’re a freshly cooked rabbit; and he hasn’t eaten in a week. Reminds me of how Eist would look at me, before he had me the first time”. She smirked, and took a bite of her quail. “More like a frog”, I muttered. “What’s that?”, she asked. “Nothing”, I answered.

She leant back in her chair, and looked at me seriously. “He’s not a good man, Y/N”, she said. ”I’m beginning to see that”, I answered.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence; only interrupted by the occasional lord coming forward to wish health on my upcoming marriage. I wanted to stab each and everyone of them in the neck.

---

A guard was posted outside the room I had been given for the night. It was larger than the one Geralt and I had shared in Tigg, and much grander in its decorations. A large bed with beautifully embroidered bedding; rich carpets decorated the walls and floor; a table set with fruits and wine; a roaring fireplace, and – thank the gods – a warm bath in front of it.

I shed my dirty clothes, and stepped into the tub; lowering myself into the water, until only my face was above the surface. For the first time in days – weeks – I was alone. And I cried. I wept so long that it felt like there were no tears left in the world. My chest hurt from the contractions of my sobbing; and I was beginning to struggle for breath in the end.

I heard a skirmish outside the door. Someone was banging loudly at it. “You can’t go in. The lady is not to be disturbed!”. “She’s in my charge, and I’ll see her!”. I recognized Geralts voice.

I stepped out of the tub, and put on the clean robe that had been warming by the fire. Opening the door, I saw Geralt pressing his lower arm against the neck of the guard; forcing him against the wall. Two other guards were holding their swords to his back.

“It’s fine”, I said. “Let him in”. “But my lady; Queen Calanthe made it perfectly clear…”, the man against the wall said. “Fuck off, dingleberry”, I growled; earning a gasp from all three guards. Geralt removed his arm from the man, and the three guards slowly stepped back. “Foulmouthed princess, indeed…”, I heard one of them mumble, as they walked away.

I stepped aside for Geralt to enter the room. He looked around; as always ready for an attack from any corner. They’d taken his weapons and armor, it seemed; as he was left with only his plain clothes. “The bathwater is cold”, I said; and sat down by the table. Geralt grunted and went to stand by the fire.

“I heard you cry”, he said. “From where?”, I asked. “From the courtyard”. I covered my face in embarrassment. “No one else heard you”, he said. “Right…”, I mumbled; remembering his enhanced hearing.

Geralt went to take my hand; and examined my face. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. I pulled my hand away from him furiously. “A 15 year-old girl, Geralt”, I snarled. “How could you?”. He looked genuinely confused. “The child!”, I said. “And here I thought witchers couldn’t procreate”. “We can’t…”, he grumbled.

I stood up, and threw an apple into the fireplace; cracking it against the back wall. The juices dripped down, and made the fire sputter. “Then, why…”, I growled, punching him as hard as I could in the chest; “… is princess Pavetta on her way to Skellige to give birth to your child?”.

His face went from confused, to relieved – to finally; angry. “You think I would get a girl pregnant, and then just leave her? A princess, no less?”, he scoffed. “Do you not know me?” “No!”, I yelled. “I don’t know you. At all!”. He took a step backwards. “No”, he said. “It seems you don’t”. He walked towards the door. “We leave in the morning. Your husband will want to see you soon”.

I lost all composure. Picking up the entire bowl of fruit from the table; I threw it at his back; grapes, oranges, plums and apples splattering across his shirt. And then I screamed.

Geralt growled, and sped at me; grabbing my shoulders, and throwing me on the bed. I clawed at his face – doing my best to scratch him – but he held my wrists down. “Stop!”, he roared “Go to Hel!”, I screamed. “You can go right along with me, woman!”, he answered.

I wrestled myself free from his grasp and struck at his head. He narrowly avoided my hand by rolling onto his back; and I straddled him – once again getting my wrists caught in his grasp.

Suddenly the door opened, and the three guards were standing in the opening. “My lady!...”, one of them called. “Get the fuck out!”, Geralt and I roared at the same time; staring at the dumbstruck men. They silently closed the door. “Bloody crazy, that one”, I heard one of them say through the door, as they walked away.

I got off Geralt; and laid on my back next to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, I said. “There’s nothing to tell”, he answered. “But you have a child on the way with another woman!”, I half whimpered. “And you are marrying another man!”, he grunted. I sat up and shook my head in exhaustion. “I never wanted to marry him!”, I said. “And I never wanted a child”, he muttered. I stood up, picked up an orange from the floor, and threw it at him. He sat up, and looked at me angrily. “Would you stop throwing fruit at me?”, he snarled.

I scoffed. “You never wanted a child”, I hissed. “Maybe you should have thought of that, before you stuck your dick in the 15 year-old lion-cub of Cintra!”. “I didn’t!”, he roared, making me jump. “It’s a child of surprise!”.

He walked over to me slowly; prepared for more flying fruit. “It was an accident”, he said. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and neither did the father when I asked him for the law of surprise. I thought it would earn me a keg of ale at the most”. I laughed, and shook my head. “A keg of ale?”, I said. “You stupid man…”.

He put his hands on either side of my face. “Yes. Stupid enough to fall for a woman, who by rights belongs to someone else”. He put his forehead to mine. “Stupid enough to want your heart, when I know it’s not mine to have”.

I put my hands on his chest; and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt. “What are we doing, Geralt?”, I whimpered. “Everything wrong, it seems”, he groaned.

He pulled back from me; holding on to my shoulders; and boring his amber eyes into mine. “I can’t help it, little frog”, he said. “You said you didn’t want to be a part of someone else. But you are. You’ve shaped me; and I’ve shaped you. It’s unavoidable”. A single tear fell from my eyes. “But it doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself; or I myself”, he continued. “It only means that we... change”. I sniffled – embarrassed at my own reaction to his words. “But you said you don’t change…” He smiled. “I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change”, he breathed. “You wrote your name on my life, as I have written mine on yours. No matter where I travel and who I meet; you have made your mark on me. We aren’t an entity; but we are two of a whole”.

I put my hands on either side of his face; and laughed through my tears. “Please stop crying”, he said. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”, I sniveled. “Yes”, he admitted. I laughed out loud. “For someone so uneasy with human emotion, you do have a way with words”, I said. “Only for you, my lady”, he whispered; and kissed my lips.

---

We made love softly that night; taking care to not leave an inch of the other untouched. Geralts lips were the nourishment of my being, it seemed; and he let those lips touch every part of me that would bring me pleasure – seemingly finding pleasure himself, in nothing but the moans and whimpers he could draw from me. I came undone so many times I lost count, and the witcher came along with me. We were two of a whole.

When morning came; we hadn’t gotten much sleep – but for some reason, I’d never felt more awake. I knew what needed to happen. I knew that we would continue on our journey to Temeria; that I would marry Foltest; and that it would break both of our hearts when I did. There was nothing else that could be done.

I could not spend the rest of my life travelling with this man. I’d grow old, and he wouldn’t. I couldn’t be chasing monsters around the continent; when I was old and grey, and my bones were creaking. He could not give me children. Not that I was sure I wanted any; but our lives together would never be truly fulfilled – and his job never truly done.

We had each other now. And should we never see one another again; the marks we’d left on the others being would never be erased.

Geralts head was resting on my chest, and I was running my fingers through his hair; when there was a knock at the door. “Come in, Jaskier”, I called – quickly covering myself with the sheets.

The bard stepped inside; almost tripping over a plum. He looked around the room – stray fruit scattered across the floor. “Well”, he smirked. “Nothings changed here; I see”. He sat down by the table; pouring himself a goblet of wine. “So… when do we leave?”.

Geralt and me both looked at him with wonder. “Whose wife did you diddle this time?”, Geralt grumbled; laying back in the bed with his arms behind his head. I chuckled. “Uhm, sister; actually”, Jaskier replied; and took a sip of the wine. “Mmm! 1249; good year”. “Jaskier?...”, Geralt demanded. “Some lord, or another”, the bard said dismissively. “Apparently Jas… Jel… Jissanya, it was. Well, she’d been promised to Aretuza”. He looked at me apologetically. “They are quite fond of their virgins there. But I can tell you right now; that girl was not a maiden!”.

“Hels ass, Jaskier. Are you insistent on getting yourself killed before the end of the year?”, I chuckled at him. He stood up, looked at me; hurt in his eyes. “What if I told you it was true love?”, he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you’re right. It would never work”, he chuckled.

I went to get out of bed, and gestured for him to turn around. “What?”, he shrugged. Geralt sat up and looked at him menacingly. “All right, all right. It’s not like any of you have anything I haven’t seen before – right, Geralt?”, the bard smirked; and covered his eyes with his hands. “I don’t want to know what that means”, I mumbled, and went to get dressed behind a divider in the corner.

---

We were met in the courtyard by Calanthe and her men from the day before. “Lady Y/N”, the queen said. “I hear there was trouble in your room last night”. My face reddened. “No trouble, your majesty”, I said. “Just… a discussion on our next move”. “Hmm…”, Calanthe frowned, looking from Geralt to me. “I trust you remember our conversation?”. I nodded and smiled. “I remember it well”, I said. “And I trust you, of anyone, will understand why I must live the life I choose, until I have to live the life I must”. Her face contracted into a smile for a second. “I do, my dear”. She sighed. “I just wish you hadn’t chosen as you have”. I smiled again.

“Thank you for your kind hospitality, your majesty”, I said. “And thank you for sacrifice”, she answered. “This is my war; but part of the burden of it has fallen upon you. If I could, I would undo it”. She looked at me earnestly; and then held my face in her hands; putting her forehead to mine. “If Foltest ever… should he ever be cruel to you; I will come up there; and I will rip his cock of with my bare hands”. I laughed. “I might take you up on that offer”. She chuckled, and kissed my forehead. “Be well, cousin”, she whispered.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I am very sorry to disturb this special moment, your majesty, but I think one of the lords in there has an arrow with my name on it”. Geralt grunted.

“Witcher”, Calanthe said, letting go of me. “You will protect this woman with your life”. “You have my word”, Geralt said, and nodded at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. ”And go north. There are Nilfgaardian outposts further east”. Geralt frowned, and nodded again. “All right”, she said. “Now fuck off, all of you”.

We saddled up; Geralt and me on Roach; and Jaskier on – a quite unhappy – Bayrd.

On our way out the gates; I turned to the bard. “Jaskier; do you like my mushroom stew?”

He didn’t answer.

---

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

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#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher netflix #jaskier

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pocket-sized-angel0601 · 4 years

Text

Don't Start a War... [Geralt x Reader]

This is written with the prompt "Do me a favour don't start a war while I'm gone." Just 2020 quarantine things tbh...

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Today my long time companion Geralt of Rivia and I arrived in Cintra to retrieve his so-called child surprise... Well, he's going to the castle, while I go visit the graves.

"Geralt you can go ahead of me... I'll be fine here." I turn around with the bouquet of flowers in my hands.

"I can stay if you want." He says lowly but loud enough for me to hear. Admittedly this is where I first met Geralt. He was here when my mother died, leaving the city after the party at the castle on the outskirts of Cintra at a small dirty graveyard surrounded by ratchet wooden gate.

"No, there are things I want to do alone this time... I'll meet you at the castle." He hums in response and walks in the opposite direction of the opening of the graveyard. I pause and turn back towards him,

"DO ME A FAVOUR AND TRY NOT TO START A WAR WHILE I'M GONE." He doesn't stop walking but I'm pretty sure I heard him chuckled and wandering towards the back of the small fenced-off area. Though it's small it still smells like death and sorrow, much different from what most of the city feels like.

"Hello, mother... I'm home and I am with the Witcher that helped avenge your death... We are here for a child... Mother, I think I've fallen in love with him, the books that I used to read lied. Witchers are filled with emotions they can greave and love like the rest of us. I wish you could've met him. I may not come back mother it is time for me to move on." I lay the flower on top of her headstone turn to leave the mudded area.

"(Y/N)?" A voice I never thought I'd hear again, my half-sister. Older now, her face shows signs of fine lines and tired eyes. A child by her side no more than 6 years of age.

"Ari... You have a child?" She only giggled at this and pulls the child forward.

"I have three, this is the youngest of them. Henry, say hello this is your aunt." The young boy squeaks out a hello and goes behind her skirt again.

"I would like to meet the rest but I need to get to the castle." She only nods but offers to walk with me.

"You haven't aged but I'm not surprised. There are stories of you and the Witcher, I've never seen you glow so much... You love him, don't you?" I can only smile at this. We continue to walk till we get the gates of the castle. Before she leaves she stops and turns to me,

"I don't live in the city anymore, I live in a town half a day from here. One day may we meet again sister. She would be happy that you choose to embrace who you really are." With that, she left with the boy.

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I followed Geralt's voice but I was met with a not so pleasant scene.

"...for somebody who never cared enough to come back for her. Move along, Witcher! I'll pay whatever you want." spat Queen Calanthe.

"I can't be bought. You should remember." Mousesack continues to talk about history. I touched Geralt's shoulder and move in front of him.

"All I asked of you Geralt was not to start a war..."

"They're right my Queen, destiny cannot change with coin. " They are taken aback by the new player on the scene.

"What if I win the war, and lose Ciri. What victory is that?" She loves her as if she was her daughter no doubt about it.

"Queen Calanthe, I lived under your rule for the early years of my very long life. Can you please stand to lose just one thing, destiny will come one way or another." I pull of the hood that covered my ears and Geralt's hand cradles mine. "I am a half-elf that saw as a figure I wished to be, we all must make sacrifices and destiny says that child is not yours."

"If have any doubt in your mind that she is safe here give her to me. Call it Destinies security, but I- WE will take her, protect her and bring her back unharmed. I promise you that." If I learned anything about travelling with Geralt is that he almost never goes back on his word. But the Queen looks apprehensive about his statement.

"Ciri is all I have left of my daughter." Underneath her hardened shell, she is still a mother.

"If Ciri survives-" I step up and cut off Geralt, "then Pavetta lives on too."

Calanthe Calls law of surprise but we learn that she lies to us about the child. She attempts to give another child, and Geralt goes to contend her once more. I was finally able to catch up with them when,

"She needs family, you know nothing about that. Your own mother cared so little she discarded you."

"YOU! You lecture him on someone's love and yet you give up someone else's daughter!? You order the death of my father you didn't care when my mother was slaughtered!?" Geralt grabs a hold of me before I get to her.

"Queen to all. Grandmother to ONE." Mousesack struts in to meet with the party congregating in the hall.

"You are sentencing her to death." Calanthe ignores Geralt and Mousesack starts escorting us out. But when Geralt refuses to stay out of Cintra, Mousesack traps us between the gates.

________________________________________________________________________________

Luckily enough we both didn't get slaughtered on the spot but for the past year Geralt and I have been in the dusty old cell. Geralt went silent and meditated for most of the time and year in both of our lives tends to move pretty quickly.

In the dark of the night, I would teleport and visit places just to feel free from the cell. But one night I awoke to the sound of death and war. The Nilfgaard army is upon Cintra, Geralt jolt from his meditation. Quickly he knocks out the guard and takes the keys.

"You know we could've done this an easier way." He grunts and opens the door for me.

"I hate portals." I would've laughed at the remark if we weren't in the middle of a warzone.

Geralt wraps an arm around me to guide me to a turned over cart amidst the fire and chaos. Though we've been surrounded by death and monsters; this devastation has been caused by one of the most terrifying monsters. Humans.

Geralt and I split to search on each side of the cart till I saw it. Someone I once revered, a sign of strength in women in a time where we were only seen as items. A warrior. I watched her fall, I heard the crack of her skull when it collided with the cobblestone of her kingdom right in front of me.

I gasp as her eyes make contact with mines as the light fades from them. Geralt hears my distress and comes to my side but has a similar reaction when he sees Calanthe's body just feet away from us. I can feel his panic and hear his heart, but he quickly covers my eyes and turns me in the opposite direction.

"It will be okay." Geralt whispers lowly in my ear and pulls me to follow him down a corridor where we find a soldier. Finally, he lets my shaking hand go and grabs the soldier and pushes him into the door of a nearby room.

"I am already saved." The soldier smiles weakly at us, but Geralt isn't as kind and he just pushes and twisting his sword into the liver to allow a slow painful death of blood loss.

"Where is Cirillia?" He stats coldly as he kneels in front of the crumbling form. The soldier does not give in, the fool. He begins a hopeless prayer and Geralt ends him with a quick jab of a dagger to the trachea.

He grabs my wrist again and we are off out of the gates of the burning city. Screams and pleas deaf to our ears, he takes us to the horses on the outskirts of the city and we flee from my home once more but this time we have no chance of return.

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I wanted to split this into two because it was getting kinda long but I'll post it soon.

#geralt of rivia x reader #thewitcher #witcher geralt #witcher x reader #henry cavill x reader #x reader #henry cavill #the witcher netflix

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marvellouslymadmim · 3 years

Note

Eist and Calanthe in a harrowing little drama? I love to suffer. ahaha

Then suffer 😘

Looking back, Eist should have absolutely known that it was a trap.

The look in Graeme's eyes when he said they had to take a detour. The eerie quiet of the street and how their horses started to hitch at the reins, already spooked.

But the alleyway is too narrow to properly turn around anyways, even if he’d listened to the unease building in his gut.

His wife (his wife! how it amazes him still to say it, nearly half a year into their marriage) had moved forward without blinking an eye, even though he’d detected the tightness in her jaw and the slight hitch of her brow. Still, as usual, she’d charged forward into potential danger.

Of course, he didn’t raise his concerns. Didn’t do anything that might make her look weak in front of her men, anything that might imply that she was anything less than ard rhena, anything that could possibly be construed as doubt for her abilities or choices on his part.

But what does a reputation matter, if it costs a life?

Calanthe’s cerulean cape dotted with golden lions shifts with every step her horse takes, her shoulders seeming even larger and imposing with the added bulk of pauldrons and cape over them. She refused to wear a helmet for the emissary tour, though she gladly donned her shining golden armor (I did not establish my reign by swanning around in a skirt, she’d pointed out, I will not let my people forget what I am and have always been). Eist, of course, has not complained. No, he rather adores the look of it, and adores even more the privilege of helping her out of it, every night when they stop to rest. He wears his armor as well, which has been slightly recrafted to better complement hers (and oh, how he loves the idea that they are, in yet another way, a pair, a set, bound even in the smallest of ways). But they both wear less than full suits, just enough to project power and might while still being far more comfortable for a solid month of touring the country to celebrate their union.

Again, he should have known. Not all of Cintra rejoiced to learn they had a new king--a foreigner, and a Skelliger to boot. Skellig and Cintra have not always been allies. Some of the older citizens still remember Skelligen raiding parties attacking their homes. So...no, not everyone has welcomed their new king with open arms.

They are now in the region with the most vocal demonstrations of displeasure, and now it is far too quiet--he really, really should have known.

Suddenly, eerie quiet shatters into pandemonium. Something big and dark drops, seemingly from nowhere, right onto Calanthe’s horse. Eist’s brain finally registers: something is someone, already dragging her down from the saddle, arm around her neck. He can see her gloved hand reaching back, stuttering and flailing as it tries to make contact with the person behind her.

Eist’s horse skitters to the opposite side of the alley, crushing Eist’s right ankle between it and the hard brick wall of the alleyway. He draws his sword, swiveling to see men rushing for him. He has the vantage point, but they have the numbers--and he can’t fully concentrate, far too busy looking wildly ahead, trying to find Calanthe.

Her horse, riderless, rears and whinnies in fear. Eist’s heart stops entirely. He swings blindly at the men beneath him--he hits, he can feel the solidness ricocheting up his arm, hears the cry of pain, but he doesn’t actually see it.

Calanthe. His eyes are darting, trying to find her. Graeme is, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. But Pemell and Anndir are still here--Pemell at the head of the line, still atop his horse, swinging his sword and yelling as well. Anndir is on his feet, holding his own against three other men in dark rags. Eist follows Anndir’s line of sight--the men will be trying to get to the queen, to protect her, Eist knows.

He sees the other little group against the opposite wall of the alleyway, Calanthe’s horse between them and the rest of fight. Sees a flash of pale--her face, between the shoulders of two men slamming her against the wall. Her head smacks back hard against the stone and he can see rather than actually hear the yelp of pain she gives in response.

Before he even truly realizes it, Eist is launching out of the saddle, determined to get to her. He has to break his gaze long enough to take down the two men still trying to attack him--Anndir is at his side, swinging and bringing down one man at the knee.

“The queen!” Eist yells, over the din, and they both move forward.

Calanthe is too pinned down to unsheathe her sword, but Eist can see one man stutter backwards, sees his wife’s foot recoiling from an apparently hard kick. Before the man can recover, Anndir has him, slicing his throat with ruthless efficiency.

Calanthe’s horse bolts forward, and the action catches Calanthe’s attention, makes her gaze lock with Eist’s. There’s terror and relief competing in her gaze, and he understands them both.

She’s so busy staring at him that she doesn’t pay attention to the man still holding her down. Eist sees the man’s elbow draw back and he understands even before his brain can truly form the thought.

The flash of a blade. The sudden jolt of Calanthe’s entire body. The anguished, pained look twisting her features (she’s beautiful, she’s still so beautiful, she’s so beautiful and fragile and dear gods she’s dying right before his eyes, again). The sound of rage and hurt--coming from him, from his own mouth, his own heart and lungs.

His hands are at the man’s head in a flash, moving hard and sharp. He feels the neck snap, holds on long enough to toss the man away from his wife.

Calanthe gives a shaky, pained sound and slumps further against the wall. There are still men around them, still danger everywhere, and Eist can’t do anything but shield her, turning his back to the rest of the fray.

“Don’t take it out,” he urges, knowing it will only bleed quicker. The blade is wedged under the links in her breast plate, pointed upwards (oh, her lungs, not her lungs, dear gods, please, not like this). She makes another skittering, frightened sound, but obeys. Still, her hand is shaking as it flutters around the knife handle. Her glove is missing and her hand is so delicate, so tiny and bloodstained and he wants to weep at the sight of it, twittering and flinching like a mortally wounded bird.

He looks up at her mouth. No blood. That has to be a good sign.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he’s immediately transported back to the night of their wedding, the memory of holding her in his arms as Pavetta’s storm raged around them, Calanthe’s lips against his neck as she whispered over and over again: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, please.

“It’s alright,” he assures her shakily, willing with all his heart for it to be so. “You’re safe, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

She makes another twittering, almost-chirping sound, head lolling back against the wall--again, he thinks of a small bird, dying. His hand goes to her neck, steadying her, bringing her gaze back to his.

“Stay,” he commands. “Stay with me, Calanthe. Just...stay.”

She blinks, eyes going from hazy to bright and quick again. She’s trying, gods help her, she’s trying and he loves her all the more for it (he loves her and he cannot lose her, not like this, never like this).

It all happens at half-speed, it seems. He sees her dark eyes flick over his shoulder, widening at whatever she sees approaching. Feels the push of her hand against his breastplate, finds himself suddenly swinging wide and away from her. Hears the sharp half-choked yelp as she rips the knife out of her breastplate and launches forward, ramming into the attacker with a bellow of rage. Eist is yelling, too--yelling at her, at the attack, at everything in the world that somehow is moving much too fast and far too slow, all at the same time.

With another roar, Calanthe pushes the man away. His eyes are devoid of life before he even hits the pavement, and her hand still shakes in adrenaline and pain as it holds the dagger out, ready for any other attacks.

But the only ones left standing in the alley are them, Anndir, and Pemell.

Reputations be damned. Eist rushes back to her side, fully wrapping her into his arms--she sags against him, suddenly heavy and exhausted, and he holds her tighter, kissing the side of her head fiercely. She’s panting, in quick, pain-filled little gasps that surges more fear and adrenaline through his veins than the initial attack.

For the first time, Pemell and Anndir realize the queen is injured. Pemell swings down from his horse, ordering Anndir to find the nearest doctor. Anndir disappears, and Pemell moves closer.

Eist looks down at his wife. She’s gotten far too heavy. Her face is pallid and her eyes are closed, face contorted in pain. She’s still conscious, but it’s taking every ounce of effort to remain so, Eist realizes.

Pemell is already removing her cloak, letting it fall on the dirty, bloodstained cobblestones. Eist can’t help but think how pissed she’ll be, when she finds out. Still, he focuses on helping Pemell remove Calanthe’s pauldrons and breastplate.

There is blood. So much blood. The linen shirt she wears under her armor is more red than grey now, and Eist’s stomach begins to churn. With a shaking hand, he tries to lift her shirt, to see exactly where the blade went in.

“Now’s...really not the time, love,” she quips, every word labored and rasping.

Eist finds himself laughing, skittering and almost maniacal. This woman. How can he ever be without her?

“Good to see your humor’s intact, your highness,” Pemell comments dryly. Still, Eist can see the hard set of the man’s face--he doesn’t like the look of it.

“Always, good sir,” she drawls back. Her tone is so unaffected and yet her face twitches with pain. Eist only wants to hold her tighter, hold her closer--but he merely holds her up, trying to help as much as possible.

He’s never felt so useless, so helpless in all his life.

Anndir returns. He and Pemell lead the way, finding a house to commandeer for the queen. Eist removes his own breastplate and scoops his wife into his arms, carrying her the short distance.

Calanthe has gone silent. Her fingers, curling hard into his shirt, are his only indication that she’s still here, still with him in some way. She’s so pale, and her face is dappled with large drops of sweat already.

He’d pray to every god he could name for her safety, if only he could remember anything beyond that fact that he loves her and he absolutely cannot lose her like this.

But he can’t remember a single deity, a single prayer or charm to chant. So instead he merely holds her tighter and prays, over and over again: Stay, stay, stay, please. I love you, don’t leave me, stay.

#you asked for it #distract mim 2020 #calanthe x eist #angst #thanks anon #enjoy...???

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havenoffandoms · 4 years

Note

Hi! A little idea for your requests, if you don’t mind. A Jaskier x Geralt : Jaskier feels finally brave enough to confess his undying love to Geralt but each time he tries, something gets in the way. Yennefer and Ciri support him and even try to help (successfully or not). Fun and fluff please !!! I hope you find the idea interesting~ 🌟

Okay, sooooo I may have got slightly carried away with this idea and I won’t apologise for it. Your idea really inspired me and I think it’s the cutest thing. Jaskier and Geralt are just two idiots in love in this one. There is the slighest bit of angst at the end, but the rest is fun and fluff as you wanted it. I hope I did your request justice.

Thanks for your ask! Hope you enjoy the read xx

Warning: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff, mild swearing, smutty references, and mild canon typical violence

Jaskier was known for many things across the Continent – his ballads, his poetry, his many, many conquests that often got him into trouble (and inspired many, many ballads) – but his bravery was certainly not one of them. The bard was painfully aware of this fact, and he thought that joining Geralt on his adventures would somehow remedy this, but he had been wrong. Nonetheless, after nearly twenty years of pining and admiring the Witcher from a distance, Jaskier had decided to tell Geralt how he truly felt about him. No matter the outcome, Jaskier would tell Geralt and finally get this secret off his chest. He needed to know if Geralt felt the same way and he was ready to face the possibility that Geralt only liked him as a friend. Geralt may live for several centuries, but Jaskier did not have nearly as much time left in this life and had to make the most of the time that he had left. Even if it meant spending that time getting over Geralt…

Jaskier had a plan. He would tell Geralt over dinner, the nicest dinner they could afford, which at present consisted of stale bread, meagre pieces of cheese and some fruit that had seen better days but would do just fine. The location would be wherever Geralt decided to stop for the night on their way to Kaer Morhen. They would likely set camp at the edge of the woods (moonlit dinner, anyone?) and probably start a fire for warmth – that classed as romantic, right? Jaskier knew he could not overthink this too much. He did not have the luxury of waiting until they reached a town with a half-decent inn that offered nice (and most importantly cheap) food. He would have to work with what he had, and at the minute all that mattered was that Geralt knew how Jaskier truly felt about him.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, as Jaskier had anticipated, with the added bonus of the mountain range in the distance backdropping their campsite. The bard noticed the white peaks as the sun set just behind the mountains, casting large shadows over the plains that stretched from their current location all the way to the foot of the mountain range. The surroundings looked nothing short of picturesque – not that Geralt, the big oaf, would notice it! He was too busy unsaddling Roach, gathering sticks for the campfire and gathering his dirty clothes from his back before tossing them on the muddy ground for Jaskier to deal with in the morning, as was usually the case. When the bard’s stomach began rumbling loudly, Geralt finally looked up and his amber eyes rested on his travel companion. He looked irritated, as per usual, but there was something else reflected in his cat-like eyes. Concern, perhaps?

“Here,” Geralt said, his voice gruff and raspy and sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine, “eat this.”

Jaskier barely managed to catch the piece of hard bread with his hands. He watched in a panic as Geralt strapped his swords onto his back and readied himself to leave.

“Wha- where are you going, Geralt?”

“Hunt. We need meat to last us the next couple of days on the road,” the witcher answered without looking at him.

“But… when will you be back?” Jaskier asked, trying not to sound as needy as he felt.

“When I’ve caught something, bard,” Geralt huffed before taking off into the woods without as much as a glance over his shoulder. Jaskier was speechless for a while even after Geralt had disappeared into the dark woods.

Son of a bitch!

***

“I think the best way to Geralt’s heart is through Roach,” Ciri told Jaskier over dinner one night. The young heir to Cintra and the bard had both hit it right off when they had met. Ciri enjoyed his ballads and his poetry, and Jaskier loved teaching her about the history of the Continent, algebra and even taught her one or two songs on his lute. The girl was a natural and he felt it would be a shame to let this talent go to waste. Of course the sword training with Geralt and magic lessons with Yennefer were a lot more glamorous, and Jaskier could not hope to compete with that. Yet, Ciri enjoyed the distraction nonetheless and often used her free time to visit Jaskier. She was like the little sister Jaskier had always wanted but never had.

“I don’t see how that’s helpful…,” Jaskier admitted after a minute of considering Ciri’s words.

“Geralt loves Roach. He has a special bond with her, and I think he trusts her instincts about people more than his own. I think if he were to see you bonding with Roach, he would considerably soften around you.”

Jaskier had to admit he had never thought of that before, but it did not sound like the worst idea. The following day, he decided to follow Ciri’s advice and headed to the stables early in the morning to be sure to beat Geralt to the chase. When he arrived near Roach’s stall he noticed that the mare’s ears perked up when she saw him coming. Jaskier made soft clicking noises as he brought his hand to pet her long head. The mare let out a happy snort as she nudged against his hand demanding more pets.

“Hey girl, how are you doing? I know it’s usually Geralt who takes care of you, but today I thought I’d come and say hi myself. You’re awfully more friendly than what Geralt makes you out to be, you know. I always thought the reason I couldn’t ride you was because you’re a temperamental little thing.”

Jaskier chuckled as Roach shook her head and huffed indignantly. The bard looked around the stables and spotted a bucket with brushes, hoof picks and mane combs. Blankets and leading rope hung inside the stall Roach was residing in, right next to her saddle. Jaskier went to grab the bucket and returned to the stall, opening the door gently as to not spook the mare. He entered Roach’s personal space and fished a body brush out of the bucket. He began brushing Roach’s coat, making sure to scrub the sand and dust out of her coarse hair as best as he could. His ministrations seemed to relax the horse judging by her steady heartbeats that Jaskier could feel through her ribcage as he slid his hand along her strong body.

“You know, I never realised how big you actually are, girl. You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? And so sweet, too. Your coat is so silky. Geralt takes really good care of you,” Jaskier mused as he worked one side of Roach’s body.

“Of course I do,” a deep voice interrupted Jaskier’s actions and made him jump out of his skin, “Roach works hard when we’re on the road hunting monsters. The very least I can do is make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.” Geralt stared at Jaskier with a half-smile on his lips, his eyes soft as he watched the bard pamper Roach. Jaskier was not used to that kind of expression on the witcher’s face. The last time he had seen such kindness in Geralt’s eyes had been at princess Pavetta’s engagement festivities right after the witcher had saved him from yet another cuckold husband’s ire.

“I… I didn’t hear you come in,” Jaskier said, returning his attention to Roach and willing his racing heart to calm down. Geralt grabbed a second body brush from the bucket and got working on Roach’s coat as well. The mare let out a pleased snort at having both men take care of her.

“You were so lost in your own world that a troll choir could have burst into the stables and would’ve escaped your notice,” Geralt jested, making Jaskier stop in his tracks.

“My, my, Geralt, was this a joke? Who knew witchers have a sense of humour?”

“She likes you, you know?” Geralt commented, ignoring Jaskier’s sarcastic comment. The bard blushed at those words, and he was unsure how to respond.

“I like her, too. Despite her grumpy owner, she’s a surprisingly tame horse.”

“Hm… maybe it’s a blessing that she can’t hear your incessant singing,” Geralt teased, but his tone was light which told Jaskier that he was looking for a reaction. The bard was certainly not going to rise to the bait.

“My incessant singing is probably a nice change from the monosyllabic grunts she hears on a daily basis.”

Well, he tried not to rise at least. Jaskier dropped the brush in the bucket and retrieved the hoof pick. He kept a hand on Roach’s flank and allowed it to travel to her rump and down her leg to make her aware of where he was going. He pulled her leg up between his thighs and began picking out the dirt from between her hooves. Now was the time or never to tell Geralt how he felt about him, while they were both alone in the deserted stables and where no one could witness his humiliation if Geralt rejected him. Pull yourself together, Jask.

Deep breath in – 1, 2, 3 – and deep breath out. Go.

Just as Jaskier opened his mouth, he noticed Roach’s tail rise slightly out of the corner of his eyes. The movement distracted him long enough to momentarily forget about his intentions and before he had time to react, he felt a heavy weight land on the back of his head. Next thing he knew the stall was filled by loud and rich laughter and the stench of horse shit which had just landed on Jaskier. The bard stood frozen in place, unable to move and not wanting to believe what had just happened to him.

On the other hand, Geralt’s laughter was a sound that Jaskier wished he could bottle up and keep forever.

“Hardy-har-har… really funny, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled under his breath as he stepped away from the mare and glared at the witcher, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” Geralt could not even finish his sentence before he was assaulted by another fit of giggles that brought fresh tears to his amber eyes. Well, Jaskier could definitely not tell him now… that would just look plain stupid.

“Yeah, I get it. Well, don’t just stand there! Help me!” Jaskier urged the witcher, who could barely contain his hilarity.

“Oh Jaskier… I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

Somehow, those words brought Jaskier joy despite the overwhelming humiliation he felt.

***

“Yennefer, pleaaaaase,” Jaskier pleaded the sorceress, dragging out the vowels as much as he could and ignoring the irritated eye-roll.

“Oh fine, whatever it takes to get you to finally shut up about Geralt and let me get back to my work!” Yennefer snapped at him, slamming her book shut with enough force to make the entire desk rattle in protest. Jaskier smiled brightly at her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Yen. My other attempts have failed dramatically.”

“So I have heard,” Yennefer said, a nasty smile appearing on her lips, “the smell of horseshit will follow you for the next months I can sense it.”

“Geralt told you, huh?” Jaskier guessed, feeling embarrassed at his expense all over again. Yennefer nodded, biting back the laughter that threatened to push past her lips.

“He told me and Ciri, and Ciri then told me what you had planned that day. I must admit that I felt slightly bad for you. So I’ll help you just because I’m sick of you and Geralt beating around the bush like blushing maidens who are too shy to tell her crush how she feels.”

“Wait, what do you mean Geralt and me... do you think that... he likes me back?”

Jaskier was concerned that if Yennefer rolled her eyes any harder they would stay stuck like this forever.

“Yes, dummy. Geralt is head over heels with you, how have you never noticed this before?”

“But... I...,” Jaskier was not too sure where he was going with this sentence, but as it seemed Yennefer was in no mood to wait any longer than necessary.

"If we’re going to do this, you need to do this my way, understood?”

Jaskier had a funny feeling that he would come to regret trusting Yennefer, but what other choice did he have?

“What have you got in mind?” he asked her, insecurity lacing his tone.

“Let’s just say we’ll have to hit where it hurts…,” she told him mysteriously, her smile growing more wicked and not exactly filling Jaskier with confidence.

***

Geralt grinded his teeth at the sight of Jaskier and Lambert in such close proximity. Vesemir had insisted that everyone stay several nights longer at Kaer Morhen and enjoy a feast together to celebrate the witchers returning to their former keep. There was plenty of food and ale to please everyone, and while Geralt thought he would take the opportunity to get drunk and finally admit his feelings to Jaskier, he had certainly not anticipated this turn of events. Ciri was sitting next to him but seemed blissfully unaware of his current emotional state. Why would Jaskier cosy up to Lambert of all people? His jokes were not funny, he had bad breath, not to mention a bad habit of drinking himself into an aggressive mood and physically Lambert had not much going for him either in Geralt’s humble and perfectly objective opinion. So why, oh gods why, was Jaskier looking at him like Lambert had plucked the moon from the sky?

“Aren’t they sweet together?” Yennefer cooed in his ear, only infuriating him further. Geralt barely managed a grunt as he brought his tankard of ale to his lips, took a large swig and all but slammed it back on the table, causing every dish in the vicinity to rattle. Ciri shot Geralt a quizzical side glance, which the witcher ignored.

“Why do I have a feeling that you did something shifty, Yen?” Geralt asked her, his voice barely above a growl as he watched Lambert pull Jaskier onto his lap. The sorceress merely shook her head.

“I don’t know Geralt, but I have to say it’s not your best quality.”

“Is Jaskier snogging Lambert?” Ciri asked, incredulity lacing her tone. Geralt felt every fibre in his body vibrate with anger and his blood boiled in his veins as he watched Lambert’s hand wander over Jaskier’s body like he somehow owned the bard.

Lambert had no fucking right to touch his bard.

Lambert would soon regret his decision to paw Jaskier like he was nothing but a common whore.

“Hey Vesemir,” Geralt was not acknowledging Vesemir but he knew that he had his mentor’s attention nonetheless, “have you ever heard of a witcher developing abilities to fly after undergoing the trials?”

Geralt noticed Yennefer, Ciri and Vesemir eye each other questioningly out of the corner of his eyes. The older witcher looked as puzzled as the rest of them.

“I have never come across such a case, Geralt. Why the interest?”

“Just making sure Lambert won’t survive a fall from my bedroom window,” Geralt announced as he rose from his chair and headed towards where Lambert and Jaskier were sitting. He ignored Vesemir and Yennefer’s protests, his eyes locked on Lambert who seemed to pale when he saw Geralt approach.

“Geralt, to what do I owe the…”

“Knock if off Lambert,” Geralt snapped at him, his anger only amplified by the fact that Lambert still had his arm wrapped around Jaskier, “Jaskier, how about you join me and the others over there…”

Although he had phrased it as a question, Geralt had definitely meant this as an order… something Jaskier picked up on and did not appreciate judging by the indignant expression on his face.

“I like it here, thank you very much.”

Those, as it turned out, had been the wrong words to use. Geralt had to actively calm down his nerves so he would not pummel Lambert to the ground and wipe off that cocky smile off his face.

“You heard the bard, Geralt. So piss off and go huff somewhere else.”

“There’s something I would much rather do,” Geralt said before landing a punch to Lambert’s face.

***

“What was that all about, you big brute?” Jaskier yelled at Geralt as soon as he found the witcher standing on the balcony of his room, brooding by himself as per usual. Geralt did not reply; in fact, he did not even seem to acknowledge Jaskier’s presence, which infuriated the bard to no end. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled on it with enough force that it attracted Geralt’s attention. The witcher groaned in warning, but at this point Jaskier did not care if he was punched in the stomach. He needed answers.

“I could ask you the same question, bard,” Geralt snapped, his voice low and menacing. His amber eyes narrowed as Jaskier stood toe to toe with him, not showing any willingness to back down.

“I’m allowed to snog whomever I please. You aren’t my father and don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt!”

This had all gone terribly wrong. Yennefer had suggested making Geralt jealous by flirting with Lamber, and at the time Jaskier thought it was a brilliant idea. He never thought that Geralt would act out like this. Much less give him orders like he had a say in Jaskier’s life and actions.

“I will tell you what to do when it means keeping you safe!” Geralt hissed back at Jaskier, and despite their barely noticeable height difference it felt like the witcher was towering over Jaskier.

“Keep me safe from what? Lambert is your friend, not a vampire or werewolf that you’re hunting. You know what, this was all a terrible idea, I should never have listened to Yennefer and her stupid ideas.” Jaskier did not wait for Geralt’s reply and meant to storm out of the room, but a large hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back.

“What do you mean by that?” Geralt demanded to know, but Jaskier was done talking.

“Let go of me, Geralt!”

“Lambert may be my friend, but I know what he’s like. I’ve seen it before. There’s been times where I partnered with him on hunts when we were younger. I saw the way he sweet-talked to women, promised them the world and took them to bed. You… you deserve better than this, Jaskier.”

Geralt’s words caused Jaskier to pause. It did not make sense. Since when did Geralt care who Jaskier went to bed with? And more importantly, since when did he care how these encounters left him feeling?

“This was all Yennefer’s idea. I was never interested in Lambert. I just… wanted to make you jealous,” Jaskier finally admitted, his voice small. He felt like a child who was being scolded. He braced himself for Geralt’s rejection.

“Why did you and Yen want to make me jealous?”

“Because I was sick and tired of seeing you two pining for each other and both being too cowardly to do anything about it,” Yennefer’s voice interrupted their little conversation. Jaskier and Geralt both looked up and saw Yennefer and Ciri standing at the door, wearing the same unimpressed expressions on their faces.

“Yen, stay out of this,” Geralt growled under his breath, but the sorceress merely smiled patronisingly at the witcher.

“Oh Geralt, I am in way too deep at this point. Either you two admit that you have feelings for each other, or I swear to the gods I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Jaskier gulped audibly at Yennefer’s words, and as soon as Geralt felt his anxiety he pulled the bard closer to him. Geralt positioned himself before Jaskier so he was shielding the bard from Yennefer’s attacks. Yennefer and Ciri cast each other knowing looks at the witcher’s actions.

“I believe my work here is done. Geralt, don’t mess this up.”

With these final words Yennefer and Ciri disappeared leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone. The witcher kept his back turned to the bard, almost as if unwilling to face him now that his dirty little secret was out. Jaskier, on the other hand, could not have felt happier if he tried. Yennefer had been right. Geralt liked him back and that was why he had reacted the way he had upon seeing Lambert and Jaskier together.

“Oh Geralt…,” Jaskier whispered, running his hands along the broad shoulders and down the thick arms, pulling a shudder from the witcher, “and here I was worried that you would reject me.”

Geralt finally turned around at those words and hesitantly placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips, his eyes scanning Jaskier’s face nervously. Without any words being spoken, the witcher leaned closer and placed the softest kiss on the bard’s lips.

That was all the reassurance Jaskier needed as he returned the kiss. Safe to say they would not be leaving Geralt’s room any time soon.

#geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #geraskier

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berjhawn · 4 years

Text

In My Head - Ch. 12 - Let’s Talk

Warnings: arguing; fluff, Angst ;

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

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

A/N: This one is long but I needed to fit it all in this part so i hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I smile as I hold Cirilla up over my head causing a giggle to escape her lips. She loved it when I did this. Playing that she could fly high in the sky. Pulling her back down into my arms I look around to see Pavetta smiling at me and I smile back. Over the past few years Pavetta and I had become quite close.

“She really loves you.” Pavetta says as she admires her daughter.

“And I love her.” I reply as I gently set Ciri down on her little feet so she could run through the grass.

“Have you given anymore thought to what we discussed earlier?” She asks and I cock an eyebrow at her.

“What did we discuss?” I ask confusion filling my face.

“Your heart, and where it lay.” Pavetta answers and I nod.

“My heart can’t be trusted.” I reply making sadness fill her eyes.

“(Name), you can’t just stay away from him. If what you told me about your dreams is real the two of you were destined for each other.”

“Destiny can kiss my ass.” I reply making her roll her eyes.

“If you truly believed that, then why are you here with Ciri? Did Destiny not intervene and bring you back for her?” Pavetta asks and I groan.

“I hate that you’re right.” I reply as I look over to see Ciri following a butterfly. “But I don’t even know what I would do if I ever saw him again. I mean he told me to go back like he didn’t want me.” I bite my lip as I fiddle with my fingers in my lap. Tears sting my eyes and I groan out in annoyance. “You’d think I wouldn’t have any tears left.”

“Your tears are proof you still love and want him.” Pavetta adds making me meet her gaze. “We don’t get to choose who our hearts want.”

“If destiny hadn’t intervened and you wouldn’t have been promised to Duny, do you think you still would have ended up with him?” I ask making her pause as she ponders the thought.

“I feel in my heart, that one way or another we would have found each other. I can’t imagine my life without him. I was made for him, as he was made for me.”

“God that’s so romantic.” I cry making her chuckle.

“It’s true though.” She concludes making me shake my head at her.

I glance across the courtyard to see Natasha and Calanthe in deep conversation and a chuckle escapes my lips.

“What?” Pavetta asks following my gaze.

“I honestly didn’t think Natasha would have stayed here this long, or that she’d enjoy herself.”

“She’s like my mother, a warrior; they bonded very quickly.”

“That they did.” I add leaning back in my seat as I look up into the bright blue sky.

“Have you heard from your brother?” She questions and I let out a heavy sigh.

“Last I heard from Thor he was headed north to Redania. Something about a rouge mage or something like that. I have no idea. He kind of just does what he wants when he wants.” I reply with a chuckle.

“I can tell he enjoys it.”

“He just doesn’t want to go home.” I reply making her cock an eyebrow at me. “If he goes home, he has to be the king and he doesn’t want too. Says it’s not who he is. I agree, he’s more of a free spirit.”

“Who is running your kingdom?” She asks and I smile.

“A Valkyrie. One of Asgard’s greatest warriors, if not the best one. Thor chose her himself.” I reply as I think fondly of my friend.

“Do you miss your home?” Pavetta asks and I sigh.

“Sometimes, but not as much as I thought I would.” I reply straightening my back. “I still need to go back every once a while to see my family and friends but other than that… no one really needs me there.”

A silence falls between us as I we both turn to see Ciri giggling as she makes her way over to where Natasha and Calanthe were. A thought occurs to me about what it would be like to hold my own kids in my arms. It was a strange thought considering I hadn’t ever really wanted kids. Perhaps being around Pavetta and Ciri; and seeing how amazing they were together had made the ideas fill my head. I am about to say something to her when I am pulled from my thoughts by a familiar voice calling out to me.

“Uh (Name), I fucked up.” I hear Jaskier’s voice and I turn to see him running towards me with a regretful look on his face. I furrow my brow as I stand up and walk over to him. “I didn’t mean to say anything, but…” He turns and looks back towards where he had come from.

“What’d you do?” I ask following his eyes to see nothing.

“I, uh, hang on let me catch my breath.” He says placing me between him and where he had just looked as he tries to catch his breath. “Whew! That was a very long run. I just had to get here before—oh hello Geralt.”

At the mention of his name I froze. I didn’t even need to turn around to know he was there. I couldn’t turn around. What was I going to say or do? I narrow my eyes at Jaskier in anger making him give me an apologetic look. Shaking my head, I start to walk away from them. I was not prepared for this.

“(Name),” I hear Geralt call and I shake my head.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Ah, (Name), if I may,” Jaskier says catching up to me.

“You have 30 seconds to tell me what he’s doing here before I permanently make you a mute, and it better be good.” I say as I stop to look at him.

“Ah, well, see there was this djinn. Geralt went fishing for it because he couldn’t sleep.”

“A Djinn? Like a Genie?”

“Yes, well, he was so cranky he insulted my singing and I was offended, so… it just kind of slipped out.”

“You had one job, to keep your mouth shut, and you broke your promise because he insulted your singing. Doesn’t he do that on a daily basis?”

“Not to my face.”

“Ugh!” I groan out as I reach up to run my hand over my face. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Look I don’t know what exactly transpired between the two of you, but… and I’m just throwing this out there, why not give him a chance?” Jaskier asks and I open my mouth to speak when he continues, “Please.”

“Ugh, fine.” I groan out as I finally look back at Geralt who was still standing where I had left him with disbelief in his eyes. He looked rough. I swallow down a gulp of air as I slowly walk back over to him. I look over to where Pavetta was sitting and she smiles reassuringly as she stands up and walks over to where Ciri, Natasha, and Calanthe were standing staring at us. Turning my eyes back to Geralt I feel my heart clench.

“You came back?” He asks and I nod.

“I did.” I reply dryly.

“Why?” He asks and I fold my arms over my chest.

“Why did I come back?” I ask and his brow furrows.

“Why did you tell Jaskier not to tell me?” He asks hurt in his voice.

“Because…” I pause as I glance over to see Natasha getting ready to murder someone and I let out a heavy sigh. “Can you follow me please?”

I motioned for him to follow me as I walked away from the courtyard toward my room. I knew he was following me because I could feel him behind me. His amber eyes scorching a hole in my back. Reaching my room, I open the door and motion for him to come inside. Closing the door behind us I turn to face him my jaw clenched in anger.

“Why were you looking for a genie?” I ask causing him to turn to face me.

“I wanted to sleep.” He answers honestly.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” I question and he pauses.

“Do you really not know?”

“If I knew I wouldn’t have asked.”

“If I slept,” He pauses anger filling his voice. “I’d see you… with him.”

I pause everything coming back to me. I had figured when I didn’t dream about him anymore that he didn’t dream about me either. But he’d see me with Bucky? How was that possible, Bucky and I hadn’t been together for the past six years.

“You still dream of me?” I ask and his brow furrows.

“Do you not dream of me anymore?” He inquires and I can tell there is a little sadness in his eyes.

“I still dream of you.” I answer honestly as I reach up to rub my arms. “Just not like I used too. I don’t see your everyday life, just… normal dreams.” Clearing my throat, I continue, “Anyway, so how long has it been since you slept?”

“It’s hard to say exactly.” He answers honestly.

“Maybe you should get some rest then.” I say as I motion over to my bed.

“I don’t want to sleep.” He argues and I cock an eyebrow at him.

“If you’re worried whether or not I’ll be here when you wake up,” I pause as I let out a heavy sigh.

“I want to know why you told Jaskier not to tell me you were back.” He interjects and I clench my fist.

“I told him not to tell you because I was angry and hurt, okay!” I yell at him taking him back. “When we first met, I was confused. My whole life, I was told you weren’t real and I wanted to believe it because I didn’t want to be crazy. So, I tried to move on with my life and I met Bucky. I fell in love with him because he was always there for me. He was a real person and the only person I knew who actually cared for me.

“So, when I met you and learned you were real, I felt my heart torn in two different directions. I cared about both of you and I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I knew how Bucky felt, I just wanted to know how you did; but you wouldn’t talk to me about it. You’d just give me one of your ‘hums’ and leave it at that, and that pissed me off, because we spend a night together talking and it was amazing.

“But then when it came time for me to go back, you shut me out, and I cannot tell you how much that hurt me. When I got back, I shut myself off to the rest of the world. I spent the time after I got back in seclusion. I didn’t want to see anyone. I wasn’t going to come back here.” I pause as I try not to let the tears that stung my eyes fall. “I was going to move on with my life; but… but then Ciri was born and well you could say Destiny had other plans for me.”

“Ciri?” Geralt asks and I nod.

“Our Child Surprise.” I answer making his eyes soften slight. “Her names Cirilla, but I call her Ciri. I felt her being born and knew I needed to be here.”

“You came back for her?” He asks and I nod.

“I came back to be here for her. I’m not going to take her from Pavetta or Duny, I just felt like I need to be here to protect her. She needs me.”

“What about him?” Geralt asks as he closes the distance between the two of us. “Is he here with you?”

“No,” I start taking a step back from him. “Bucky and I aren’t together anymore. I, uh, we decided it was best that way.”

“Oh?” Geralt speaks a look of hope filling his eyes.

“Yeah, we didn’t realize it at first but our relationship was toxic. We were always arguing, and there was not really any trust between us. Especially after I came back from here.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I finally knew what I wanted, and even though I loved him, I wanted someone else.” I meet Geralt’s eyes as a tear escapes falling down my cheek. “But who I wanted, didn’t want me. You made that clear when you told me to go back.”

“I told you to go back because I thought it was what was best for you.” Geralt retorts making me roll my eyes.

“How do you know what’s best for me?” I ask anger lacing my words.

“This place… is different from your world. It’s harder, more dangerous.”

“You do know what I do for a living right?” I ask making him narrow his eyes in anger. “I put my life in danger every second of every day.”

“The monsters in your world are different.” Geralt tries to justify, but I’m not having any of it.

“That doesn’t make them any less deadly.” I argue making him reach up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I can take care of myself. I always have and I always will.”

“You don’t always have too.” Geralt softly adds pulling my attention to his eyes.

“What are you implying Geralt?” I question narrowing my eyes at him.

“I’m not good with words.”

“No shit sherlock.” I interrupt.

“Dammit (Name) can you just be quiet for one second?!” Geralt yells out making me narrow my eyes at him.

“No,” I reply in challenge.

“Look I’m only going to say this once so don’t interrupt.” He starts and I cock an eyebrow at him. “Back then, when I told you to go back, I didn’t want too.”

“Oh?” I inquire resulting in him glaring at me. I hold my hands up in surrender as I motion for him to continue.

“I spent the time after I sent you back thinking that what I did was right. You didn’t belong here; it was too dangerous for you to be near me. There are many people who would like to see me dead and I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” I go to say something but he quickly continues, “I know you can take care of yourself; I’ve seen you do it.”

“Thank you,”

“I swear if you interrupt me one more time,” He warns and I smirk.

“I’m actually enjoying your reaction.” I answer honestly making his face lighten up with a smirk.

“It wasn’t until after you left that I realized just how stupid I’d been.” He continues and my heart lifts in my chest. “I should have fought harder for you.”

“If you would have asked me to stay, truly asked me, I would have done it in a heartbeat.” I speak up reaching over to gently take his hand in mine. “I told you then and I’ll tell you again now, I love you Geralt; even after all the bullshit, I still love you more.”

In an instant Geralt closes the distance between us claiming my lips in a hungry kiss. My heart leaps in my chest as I reach up and wrapping my arms around his neck hold tightly to him. Tears sting my eyes as relief and happiness wash over me. There was still a seed of doubt in my head that he didn’t really care as much as I did, but it was easily drowned out as our kiss deepened. Geralt’s hands grip tightly to my hips as he pulls me in close.

“Awe, isn’t that a beautiful sight.” I hear Jaskier say and my brow furrows as I slowly pull away from Geralt to see Jaskier standing in my doorway with Ciri in his arms. He looks from me to Geralt and instantly panics, “Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt but,”

“What are you doing to my (Name)?” Ciri asks as she narrows her eyes at Geralt.

Geralt turns and meeting Ciri’s emerald eyes pauses. I glances between the two of them for a moment before I walk over to Jaskier and holding my arms out take Ciri into them.

“Hello Darling, I thought I said eavesdropping was a bad idea.” I say to her but her eyes remained focused on Geralt.

Clearing my throat, I bring her over to him and say, “Ciri, this is Geralt; Geralt, this is Cirilla.”

“This is the Witcher you tell me about?” Ciri asks her eyes finally moving to mine.

“Yes,” I reply making her nod.

“This is your special person?” Ciri asks and my face flushes pink as I nod.

“Um, I’d like him to be.”

“I am.” Geralt adds pulling my attention toward him.

“Ciri, my dear, can you go with Jaskier please.”

“Why?” She asks her brow furrowing.

“Geralt and I haven’t seen each other in six years, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Fine,” She hops down from my arms and walking toward Jaskier turns back and staring Geralt dead in the eyes adds, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Cirilla! How many times have I told you not to say that!” I scold but she ignores me as she silently threatens Geralt with her eyes.

I watch as she slowly backs out of the room closing the door behind her.

“Dear Lord that child will be the death of me.”

“She definitely has a way with words.” Geralt adds making me chuckle slightly.

“That she does.” I add as I walk back over to him. “Wonder who she get’s it from?” I add meeting his gaze.

“I wonder.” He adds a smirk filling his lips as a chuckle escapes them.

Geralt reaches up and gently touching my cheek moves a strand of hair from my face. The touch sending waves of heat throughout my body. Before I let my emotions get the better of me, I pull away.

“Now that things are kind of settled, why don’t you get some sleep.” I motion to the bed and take a deep breath.

“I will, if you join me.” He offers and I chuckle.

“Then you won’t be sleeping.”

“I’m fine with that.” He concludes want filling his eyes.

“Why don’t you take a bath, cause you stink, and I’ll think about it.”

“Very well.”

Will Continue -

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

The Witcher’s Companion pt.5/6

Main Summary: Geralt is summoned to Lettenhove to deal with a fiend when Jaskier is eight. Young Julian promptly decides he will do anything for the chance to travel with Geralt and have adventures outside of his stuffy castle life. (Other parts on AO3/Masterlist)

Geralt was in a mood and it was driving Jaskier mad.

They’d been travelling together for fourteen years now. Jaskier was now a renowned bard in his own right, and famous for accompanying witchers on their travels. About a decade ago Geralt had finally agreed to take Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen and he’d had the delight of meeting Geralt’s family, the wolf witchers.

That spring Jaskier had left with Eskel with promise of meeting up with Geralt again in the summer but he’d needed a change. Where Geralt stayed still in time, Jaskier was always twisting and turning like a leaf on the breeze. He loved to travel and sing and explore every part of the world, and that meant learning every witcher’s tale. Eskel had been a laugh and Jaskier had gotten some quite frankly brilliant material out of the witcher, but he’d been happy to return to Geralt in the summer. His White Wolf was a grumpy asshole at times but Jaskier was really rather taken with the man.

Geralt had been extra grumpy that summer and Jaskier liked to tell himself it was because the silver-haired witcher had been jealous that Jaskier had befriended another witcher.

By the end of spring Eskel had been a firm friend and they’d parted ways with warm hug, Eskel muttering something about getting a bard of his own. By the next winter he’d showed up with his own companion, a dwarf who was handy with both axe and scalpel.

Lambert jumped on the band wagon two years after that and returned to the keep with a blond witcher from the school of cat. It turned out the the wolf witchers, when given the chance, were not as lonesome as they first appeared.

It had just taken Jaskier to remind them that not everyone in the Continent hated them.

Some winters he still went back to Oxenfurt to teach. As much as he adored Geralt, they did get on each other’s nerves more often than not. When his witcher tolerance got too low he’d take the time to pass on the skills he’d learnt on the road. His lectures were sought after and always filled beyond capacity. He only went back every few years and almost every student wanted to attend.

The other professors hated it, but Jaskier preened like a peacock every time. It was so good to be appreciated. He let students cram into the back of the room, it didn’t bother him if they weren’t officially in his class. Knowledge was to share. He just hoped his students could pass on what they’d learnt to their peers.

This winter had been one such winter.

He’d adored the comforts of the university but his heart remained on the road, with Geralt. Geralt visited Oxenfurt in early spring and they’d been off. Jaskier had noticed that something had immediately been off with his friend. He’d known the witcher since he was a boy, and could read his expressions better than anyone else in the Continent.

Something was bothering Geralt, but the bastard refused to share. He assumed it had something to do with Cirilla, the child surprise that Geralt had all but abandoned seven years ago… but that was seven years ago. Why now?

“Been back to Cintra lately?” He asked as Geralt start to make camp, not too far from the lake. Geralt snarled and glared at him. Jaskier put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. “Well, pardon me for asking!”

“Well don’t.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier pulled the bedrolls from Geralt’s arms and laid them out on the ground. This was an old routine at this point, setting up camp. They usually danced around each other without getting in each other’s way, Geralt had his jobs, Jaskier had his, but today they were off their rhythm. They had been all season.

“I spent a few weeks there last winter, before I went to Oxenfurt.” Jaskier admitted quietly.

Geralt froze in the middle of the half-made camp. “You did what?”

“I went as the Viscount de Lettenhove, not Jaskier the bard. I even grew a funny beard.” Jaskier laughed as he remembered his reflection. “I wore the most extravagant hat and cape. Oh my dear witcher, you would have laughed. Calanthe didn’t recognise me at all! Mousesack did, bloody druid, but he was too amused to give me away.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him as he started to removed Roach’s tack. “Why?”

“Curiosity mostly.” Jaskier admitted. “We’re partners, Geralt. Your decision affects both of us.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, don’t you want to know what she’s like?” Jaskier grinned as he started to build the fire.

“You’ll tell me whether I want to know or not.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier watched his friend for a few minutes in silence as he finished arranging the firewood. Geralt was paler than usual with dark circles around his eyes. He really wasn’t himself. Jaskier crossed the camp and pulled the grumpy witcher into a hug.

Geralt grunted but pulled Jaskier to his chest.

“She’s brilliant, Geralt. The fire of Calanthe and the heart of Pavetta.” He said softly as he rested his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. “Calanthe won’t allow any talk of witchers in the castle, even my songs have been banned which is quite frankly rude, but Ciri is a curious child. She loves to play with fire. When I mentioned I knew a witcher, she wouldn’t let me go until she fell asleep.”

“She doesn’t know.” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier pulled back from the hug and cupped Geralt’s cheek. “No, but I told her all I could about you without Calanthe finding out.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes, bard.” Geralt scowled. “Calanthe threatened to hang us both.”

“I’d fight Calanthe over Destiny any day, dear heart.” Jaskier laughed. “Now come on, blast that firewood and I’ll go find us some dinner.”

It didn’t take Jaskier long to find a couple of rabbits to cook over the fireplace. They were shot down easily with a well place arrow. Geralt prepared them for cooking and Jaskier set about making them edible with the herbs he insisted on carrying. Geralt had never been one to appreciate good food on the road. It had taken Jaskier all of two weeks to relieve Geralt of his cooking duties when they first started travelling together.

“Jaskier.” Geralt grumbled after they’d finished eating and were staring into the flames of the fire together.

Jaskier stopped strumming his lute and looked up across the fire at Geralt. “Yes, Geralt?”

“Was she ok?”

Jaskier tilted his head and smiled at his friend before moving to sit next to him. He rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder. “Yes, she was more than ok.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Are you ok, Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly.

“I can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “I get dreams.”

Jaskier frowned and turned to face Geralt, his amber eyes glowing in the fire light. He looked majestic like this, powerful, inhuman but beautiful. “Dreams?”

“Green eyes, fire, death.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier brushed Geralt’s silver hair from his eyes and leant his forehead against the witchers. “That sounds terrible, Geralt.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed, his eyes closing as they relaxed into each other’s space.

“How about a lullaby?” He asked in a whisper.

Geralt pulled away slightly to glare at him. “I’m not a child, Jaskier.”

Jaskier pouted and pulled Geralt down so his head was in Jaskier’s lap. The witcher grumbled but allowed himself to be manhandled. “No, you are a grumpy witcher who needs a nap.” He threaded his hands into Geralt’s hair.

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“At least allow me to try, Geralt.” He pleaded.

“Fine.”

So Jaskier sang with his finger slowly carding through Geralt’s hair as he watched the flames. He sang the same lullaby that he’d sung to Ciri as she fell asleep. The green eyes from Geralt’s dreams were Ciri’s, Jaskier had no doubt about it. Ciri had mentioned having similar dreams, with yellow cat eyes instead of green. Destiny was pulling them together. Jaskier hoped his lullaby would have the same effect on Geralt as it did with young Ciri.

Sure enough, Geralt was soon snoring gently in his lap.

Jaskier gazed fondly down at his friend. He would struggle to sleep tonight but it didn’t matter, not for one night.

______________________________

Geralt swore when Jaskier, covered in his own blood, told him about Yennefer’s intention to use the damn djinn.

He regretted ever trying to find breakfast in that fucking lake. He regretted getting annoyed at Jaskier’s wittering nonsense and accidentally casting his first wish. He’d woken up with his head still in the bard’s lap, Jaskier leaning awkwardly over him as he slept sitting up, and it had stirred up some strange feelings in Geralt's chest.

Feelings that he had been trying to ignore over the last few years.

It had left him feeling vulnerable and he’d lashed out. Jaskier’s life had almost been the price.

And now the crazy witch was about to destroy hers.

He was bitter that she’d enchanted him to do her bidding but she’d saved Jaskier’s life, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t repay the favour now.

“She saved your life, Jaskier. I can’t let her die.” He grumbled to his friend as he pushed him aside but Jaskier grabbed his hand.

“Gods, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m coming with you.” His face was flushed and his eyes were blazing blue fire.

“No.” Geralt argued.

“It wasn’t a question, Geralt.” Jaskier drew the silver dagger from his boots as if that would do any good against a djinn. “It was my life, not yours.”

Geralt scowled but pulled the bard inside the manor.

Yennefer was a furious inferno of barely contained chaos. The whole bedroom was filled with that scent, lilac and gooseberries. He couldn’t fight the power of her magic, the perfume, but she was dying right in front of him. He had to…

He had to wish.

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s hand was on his cheek, blue eyes shining in the chaos of the room. “The wish! You can save her!”

Geralt focussed on Jaskier’s eyes, on the sound of his voice. It pulled him through the magic haze of Yennefer’s perfumed magic. He focussed on the steady fast beat of the bard’s heart, on his soft honeyed chamomile scent.

And he wished.

He wished that they all could be free of the djinn’s power and leave this house safely.

The djinn flew up into the sky and the magic settled in the room. The perfume was still in the air, Geralt noticed that the bottle had shattered on Yennefer’s dresser.

Geralt held Jaskier’s hand tightly, keeping himself grounded, keeping Yennefer out of his mind, as the house fell apart and the ceiling collapsed above them. Yennefer screamed and gripped onto his arm. Geralt felt a surge of magic around them, a portal.

“Geralt!” Jaskier clung to him as they were pulled through.

The crumbling room disappeared. His medallion hummed against his chest as Yennefer and Jaskier both landed on top of him.

Yennefer fell unconscious. Her raven hair covering her face, but Geralt could hear her heartbeat, could feel the cool tickle of her breath against his skin.

She was alive.

“Oh fuck!” Jaskier groaned. “Are we dead?”

He peered up at Geralt. He had dust and debris in his hair, and there was still blood stains on his face and clothes but he was alive.

They were all alive.

No thanks to the djinn.

“Not dead.” Geralt leant back on the pillows.

“And the witch?” Jaskier asked as he looked to the mess of black hair.

“Also not dead.” She mumbled against Geralt’s chest and then rolled over onto her back. “I nearly had it. Why did you stop me?” She snapped.

“Oh hey now, we saved your life!” Jaskier sat up and glared at Yennefer.

“You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me, bard!” Yennefer spat back. “And I did not ask to be saved. I was fine!”

“Yeah well, you didn’t look fine.” Jaskier mumbled.

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped. “Be nice.”

“Be nice?!” Jaskier cried. “Oh sure, I’ll be nice. I’ll be a fucking delight, as soon as she apologises for almost killing us!”

“You didn’t have to come with me.” Geralt noted.

Jaskier scoffed. “Fourteen years, Geralt. You never learn. I will always follow you.”

“Well isn’t that sweet.” Yennefer drawled. “Well, I’d love to stay but really, I don’t want to.”

“Yennefer!” Geralt reached out for her arm before she portalled away.

“What?” She snapped.

He gave her, what he hoped was a grateful smile. “Thank you, for everything.”

“You owe me, witcher.” She nodded and then disappeared.

Jaskier fell back dramatically on the pillow with a sigh. “Well this will all make a rather spectacular ballad.” He yawned.

“It was a shit show.” Geralt raised his eyebrow at his friend.

“Hmm… yeah but magic, sexy witches, sexy bards and sexy witchers. Best ballad ever.” Jaskier mumbled as his eyes fluttered shut.

Geralt huffed but it was too late.

Jaskier was asleep.

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #the witchers companion #wolfie's witcher writing

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bard-llama · 4 years

Text

5 Gifts from Family, 1 Vision of the Future, and 1 New Start (Chapter 6)

Read on AO3

First 4 Chapters | Chapter Five

Pavetta found herself in a cave with the kind of suddenness that told her this was a dream. She felt as if her body was slightly disconnected from herself, and she moved forward, deeper into the cave, even though she didn’t know why.

Finally, she came to a wide cavern where a plush couch inexplicably sat. Pavetta didn’t feel the need to question it; she just stepped forward and sat down, waiting for something.

After what felt like both eternity and no time at all, a figure appeared before her. Pavetta knew nothing had been there a moment ago, but the abrupt appearance didn’t seem notable. The figure walked towards her and Pavetta found herself strangely unable to see any details about them – instead, all she could make out was a silhouette of white light that stood about at her own height. The figure twirled around as if they were dancing, and somehow Pavetta knew they were grinning.

“Hello, Mother,” they said, and though Pavetta clearly heard the voice, she could not remember anything about it.

“You’re my baby,” Pavetta’s body said with assurance that Pavetta herself did not feel. And yet, as soon as it was said, she knew it was true.

“I am. You’ve been thinking about names.”

She had, of course. The baby was due in 8 weeks, and she and Duny had been debating several names back and forth, but none of them felt quite right.

“I know my name. Pay attention. It will be C-I-R-I-L-L-A.” The figure spelled it out with her fingers and Pavetta nodded seriously, taking note of it. Cirilla. Her baby would be named Cirilla. “Stop worrying,” the figure said, crouching before Pavetta and covering her hands. “You can’t mess up at this. Your heart is kind and loving, and because of that, you are already doing everything I could wish. You’re giving me a loving family.”

Pavetta’s eyes welled up with tears. “I just want you to be happy with me, with us.”

The figure reached out and cupped her cheek. “I already am.”

Her tears ran over and clouded her vision, and the world suddenly shifted.

The first thing she became aware of was her husband hovering over her. “Pavetta?” Duny’s voice was as soft as the thumb that hesitantly brushed tears from her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, Duny,” Pavetta threw her arms around him, crying from sheer happiness. “Our child’s name is Cirilla.” She described her dream in detail, watching the wonder grow on his face.

“Cirilla,” Duny repeated, a wide grin growing on his face. “Our child’s name is Cirilla.” His laugh was giddy, and Pavetta felt the same strange sense of euphoria. She knew her dream had been real, knew that her child was going to look at her with the same stubborn determination that Cirilla had spelled her name out with.

“She’s going to be a handful,” Pavetta giggled.

Duny cupped her face, pulling her close to rest their foreheads together. “It’s a good thing you’ve built her a nice, big family, then.”

Final Chapter

#my fics #pavetta #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #duny #pavetta/duny #fic #writing

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze pt.1/25

Geralt swore as he knocked into his bedside table, hopping from one foot to the other as he tried to pull on his socks. He’d have a nasty bruise on his shin by that evening but he’d had worse, a lot worse. Across his chest was a web of puckered scar tissue that he’d had ever since he was a child. He growled under his breath and pulled his shirt on hurriedly.

“Geralt!!” Ciri shouted from downstairs. “Come on! We’re gonna be late!”

He glanced at the clock and swore again. She was right. It had taken so long to get her dressed and sat down eating breakfast that he’d lost track of time. He pulled half his hair back into a black hair tie and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. He looked passable.

“Coming, Princess.” He called back to his young ward.

He’d known Ciri since she was born, and he’d known her parents well before the accident. Pavetta and Duny had been two of the kindest people he’d had the pleasure to have known and he’d been honoured when they’d asked him to become Ciri’s Godfather. Of course, at the time, he’d only ever expected his duties to be a sort of uncle figure in her life. No one could have predicted they would have been taken from the Earth so soon. Ciri had spent the next few years with her Grandmother, during which time Geralt had barely seen his Goddaughter. He and Calanthe had never really seen eye to eye and the elder woman had decided Geralt was a bad influence on her granddaughter’s life.

Still, Geralt had been sad when he’d received the call at the beginning of summer that the woman and her husband Eist had passed away and Ciri would become his ward. Calanthe had been a fierce woman and Geralt found he had a lot of respect for her, despite their differences.

And now he was raising a child as a single father.

It wasn’t where he’d seen his life going but Ciri had brightened up his lonely existence considerably and he would not change having her in his life for the world. He’d not realised just how lonely he was before Ciri had moved in with him. His life had just been work, sleep, eat repeat. He worked hard to afford his house and then never actually spent any time there because he was always working or at the pub with Lambert, Eskel and Renfri. Since Ciri, he’d realised it was alright to spend time staying still at home.

He shook his head and made his way down the stairs. It was Ciri’s first day at school and then he’d have to make his way to the station for the start of his shift. Vesemir had been very understanding and now allowed Geralt to work his shifts around his young ward. He now started after the school run, and he would only do on-call or evenings if Yen or one of the wolf pack was around to babysit over night.

“Geralt!” Ciri called again and ran out of the kitchen. She had her shoes on but the laces were flying and Geralt only just reached the bottom of the stairs in time to catch her as she tripped. Her hair flew out behind her in a cloud of ashen blonde and he was hit by the scent of her floral shampoo. He chuckled. Lilacs. Just like Yen. Ciri had probably chosen her shampoo to mimic Yennefer’s after his ex had spent the week with them over the summer.

“Got ya!” He chuckled as he pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back tightly, she always did, and he stroked his fingers through her long ashen hair. “Be careful, Princess.” He dropped her down on the bottom step and tied her laces, explaining what he was doing as he looped the laces round. She watched carefully, sticking her tongue out in concentration. “You can have a go tomorrow.”

“Let’s go!” She whined and pulled him by the hand towards the door.

“Wait.” He ruffled her hair and gestured towards his own boots, sitting down to pull them on.

“Hmmph.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted at him. “We’re gonna be late on my first day! Everyone is gonna laugh at me.”

Geralt’s eyes snapped up from where he was tying his own shoelaces at the sudden vulnerability in the young girl’s voice. He frowned and tilted his head as he tried to search for the answers in her bright green eyes.

“Why?” He huffed when he found no answer.

Ciri shifted awkwardly and scraped her feet on the floor. “They did at my old school.”

Geralt tensed and he felt a bubble of rage in his chest as he finished off his laces. “Why?”

But Ciri couldn’t find the words. Her eyes filled with tears and she spun round to avoid his gaze. He stood up and pulled the young girl into another hug and kissed her hair. “They won’t laugh, little Lion Cub, and you must tell me or your teacher if they do. Promise?”

Ciri nodded against his chest and then wiped the tears away. The next minute it was as if the whole moment had never happened and she plastered a smile on her face and pulled Geralt determinedly towards the door. He grabbed his keys off their hook and let himself be pulled towards his old truck.

“Come on!” She trilled and he let himself smile at her newfound excitement.

He made a note to check in with Yen to see if she knew whether Ciri had had any problems at her old school. After the death of both her parents and her grandparents, Ciri was bound to have been the odd one out and Geralt knew from experience how cruel kids could be when you were the odd one out.

The drive went without any further incident. Ciri was happily chatting away about all the new things she couldn’t wait to learn, wondering what her new friends would be like, and her new teachers. Geralt had received an email from the school administrator a few weeks before. Ciri was going to be in Mr Pankratz’s class, otherwise known as Buttercups. All the tutor groups in Ciri’s school were named after flowers. Yen’s tutor group had been called Lilacs before she’d quit teaching a few years ago to focus on her career as an art critic. She’d enjoyed spending time with the children but had found that teaching didn’t suit her and her online art blog had been growing in numbers almost everyday. She’d begun to make a name for herself over the last few years and had been jet-setting all over the world after receiving invitations to all the most prodigious galas and gallery openings.

It had been one of the reasons they’d grown apart. Geralt hadn’t enjoyed the glitz and glamour of Yen’s new life, and she hadn’t been content to stay in the small town for the rest of her life. The spark that had kept bringing them back together after every fight had fizzled out and they’d realised that deep down their relationship had never really meant to last. They were both too headstrong, too stubborn. Still, she knew him better than he knew himself and they stayed in contact. He didn’t have many friends outside of his work life and he didn’t want to lose Yen. He still loved her and she was his best friend. Life without Yennefer Vengerberg would be very dull indeed.

It had been Yennefer who had managed to use her connections with the school to get Ciri a place last minute once she’d moved in with him over the summer. Yennefer was still friendly with the staff and regularly met up with a handful of them when she was in town. Geralt pulled up and parked the car. He helped Ciri pull her rucksack onto her shoulders and held her hand as they headed towards the reception.

A pretty young woman was manning the desk. She had curly dark caramel coloured hair and dark chocolate eyes. Her skin was tanned and her cheeks were painted with a flurry of freckles. He frowned. She seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn’t recall ever meeting her and he was usually pretty good with faces. She smiled brightly when she saw them approach and stood up to shake his hand.

“Mr Rivia?” She asked.

“Hmm.” He nodded. “Call me Geralt.” He added.

“Excellent. I’m Ms Merigold.” She smiled as she released his hand.

Merigold.

That was Yennefer’s best friend’s name. Triss Merigold. They’d never managed to meet up whilst he’d been dating Yennefer, and Geralt had started to suspect that Yen had purposely never introduced them. Maybe she’d been jealous. More likely she’d realised their relationship was never meant to last and there was no point in involving her friends. Geralt had been optimistic and Yennefer had been introduced to all the most important people in his life. He felt a pang of sadness to know she’d never allowed him the same courtesy.

She ticked off Ciri’s name on the clipboard in front of her. Geralt grimaced when he noticed hers was the last name. This single parenting lark was going to be a lot harder than he expected. “Don’t worry. There’s still time.” She turned to Ciri. “And you must be Cirilla?”

Ciri made face and scrunched up her nose at her full name.

“She prefers Ciri.” Geralt explained.

“I’m sorry Ciri. I didn’t know. We’ll make sure all the teacher’s know before you have any classes with them.” Ms Merigold smiled down at his ward. Ciri scowled whilst she considered the other woman’s apology and then her face broke into a bright smile. “You’ll just need to let Mr Pankratz know.”

“Thank you, Ms Merigold!” She beamed.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to Mr Pankratz’s class. You too, Geralt. Jaskier, Mr Pankratz, likes to meet all the parent’s on the first day.” Ms Merigold walked around to their side of the desk and started to make her way through the corridors, pointing out important locations to Ciri on the way, the toilets, the school assembly hall, the dining room.

Ms Merigold stopped in front of a bright yellow door that was covered in kid’s drawings of buttercups. The name ‘Jaskier’ was scrawled out in elegant calligraphy under the thin window pane.

“Here we go. Once you’re done, Mr Rivia, Geralt, if you could drop back to reception and we’ll finish up the paperwork.” Ms Merigold gave Ciri a small wave and wandered back down the corridor.

Geralt took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The music that was floating through the door, halted and Geralt heard a voice through the buttercup covered door.

“Come in!”

Geralt scowled at the cheery tone and pushed the door open. In the middle of the room, surrounding by tiny children, was a sunny looking brunet cradling a guitar in his arms. His face broke into a grin when he saw them. Geralt felt like he’d been punched in the gut as Jaskier’s brilliant blue eyes met his. He’d never seen eyes that blue before. They seemed to shine and glitter in the bright lights of the classroom. He was… radiant.

Geralt tore his gaze away from the teacher and looked around the room. He knew he had a habit of staring too much and with his larger frame he had a tendency to be intimidating. He didn’t want to terrorise Ciri’s new teacher on her first day. It would only make her school life harder for her. Although, Jaskier’s eyes were so captivating and unique, Geralt could hardly be the first person to gawk at him.

“Ahh Mr Rivia! At last. And you must be…”

“Ciri.” Geralt cut the younger man off. “This is Ciri.”

“Ciri!” Jaskier jumped up excitedly and swung his guitar onto his back and extended his hand to the young girl. “Nice to meet you Ciri, I’m Mr Pankratz but everyone calls me Jaskier.”

Ciri giggled and shook Jaskier’s hand. “That’s a funny name.”

“Princess.” Geralt warned in a low voice.

“No no. It’s fine.” Jaskier just waved it off with a charming smile that made Geralt’s stomach flip. He turned back to the children behind him with a wave of his hand. “Right everyone,” Geralt noticed he was making gestures with his hands as he spoke. It looked like sign language not that Geralt was overly familiar.

“I want you all to think of three things that have made you happy this morning and share them with as many people as possible. It can be as simple as having a yummy breakfast, or a parent picking out your favourite top for you to wear. Go!”

He finished off with a final wave of his hands, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated on the last couple of words. A little boy in a beanie was watching him intently until the very end. He had an adult sitting nearby who smiled appreciatively at Jaskier.

The classroom erupted with noise but Jaskier’s eyes just danced with excitement. He’d probably have a hard time calming the children back down but it gave him a chance to talk to Ciri and Geralt without much disturbance. Jaskier turned back to Ciri with a more serious expression. “Jaskier isn’t my real name Ciri, but I chose it. Just like you chose Ciri, right?”

Ciri’s nose scrunched up as she took in what her teacher was saying and then nodded.

“Just because we chose our names, doesn’t make them any less important. A name is a very personal thing Ciri. We should be openminded, yeah?” Jaskier spoke calmly, fixing his blue gaze on the younger girl.

She blushed a little but nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier trilled happily. “Now, go join the others. Remember I want three things that put a smile on your face this morning. What’s the first one?”

“Cub!” Ciri replied with a laugh.

“Her stuffed lion.” Geralt explained when he saw the flash of confusion on her teacher’s face. He immediately brightened up at Geralt’s explanation and met Geralt’s eyes with a grateful expression.

“That would make me happy too. You’ll have to bring Cub in one day so we can meet them.” Jaskier’s voice was so sincere and genuine that Geralt almost believed that the young man would like nothing more than to meet Ciri’s stuffed toy lion. “Off you go then.”

Ciri scampered off to meet the rest of the class. Geralt watched after her nervously but Ciri was already better than him at making friends and she’d already introduced herself to two of her peers before Geralt turned back to face her teacher.

“Mr Rivia.”

“Geralt.” He insisted.

“Geralt.” Jaskier nodded. Geralt’s name sounded like molten chocolate coming from Jaskier’s mouth. He turned back to watch Ciri so that the teacher couldn’t see the blush that he was fighting down unsuccessfully. “I just wanted to check with you to see if there’s anything we can do to make Ciri’s school life easier. The other children aren’t aware of her, circumstances, shall we say? If she ever needs time off or you think a therapist at school would help her then we can accommodate that. She’s far too young to have known so much death.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nodded. Jaskier wasn’t wrong. “I’ll have a think. Thank you, Jaskier.”

“So what’s made you happy today, Geralt?” Jaskier asked with a wink.

You.

The word almost escaped his lips and took him off guard.

Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to face the teacher, desperately trying to ignore the smile that seemed to brighten up the whole room, or the way his eyes twinkled as if he knew the most exciting secret.

“Ciri.” He paused. “And the coffee machine.”

Jaskier’s chiming laugh filled the room. “Ah yes the elixir that is coffee. That’s only two things though, come now Geralt even the kids can count to three.”

“Hmm.” Geralt struggled to think. “Ciri was nervous this morning.”

“And that made you happy?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him and put a hand on his hip.

“No, of course not. Let me finish.” Geralt almost growled at him before he remembered that this man wasn’t his friend, he was his daughter’s teacher. “She was nervous, and you made her laugh.”

“So, I made you happy?” Jaskier smirked mirthfully.

“No.” This time Geralt did growl the word. He couldn’t help it, this man was just so infuriating. Of course he was. No one could be that beautiful and not be a pain in the arse. “You made Ciri happy. Ciri being happy made me happy.”

“Ciri’s on your list twice.” Jaskier pointed out.

“Problem?” Geralt raised an eyebrow at the younger man.

“No. No. No problem.” Jaskier grinned. “Right. I need to get back to the little devils. Triss, Ms Merigold, will set you up with my email address should you need it, she’ll also need your phone number incase there’s a problem here. I’ll look after Ciri, Geralt. I promise.”

Geralt grunted with a nod and turned to leave the room.

“Wait. Geralt.” Jaskier called. “One last thing.”

Geralt tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at the brunet.

“If we can’t get hold of you. Is there someone else to contact in emergencies?” Jaskier fiddled with the strap of his guitar.

“Hmm. You could try my work. Vesemir, or Yennefer if she’s in town.”

“Vengerberg?”

“That’s right.”

“You know Yennefer Vengerberg?” Jaskier looked at him wide eyed.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded wearily, Jaskier was probably a fan. Yen’s art blog had become something of a sensation after all.

“I met her once. She left before I started here, but she’s become something of a legend amongst the staff. Mr Gynvael speaks very highly of her.” Jaskier explained although the way his gaze drifted awkwardly to the floor made Geralt think there was probably more to that story than Jaskier was letting on.

“Hmm.” Geralt didn’t quite know what to say to that.

Luckily for him one of the children started to cry and Jaskier instantly slipped back into teacher mode, rushing over to where a child had fallen on the floor. “Hey hey. It’s alright. Can you show me what hurts?” Jaskier cooed to the small child.

Geralt smiled at the easy care that Jaskier had with the children. He would be far better at being thrown into single parenthood. Geralt sighed and walked out the classroom. He glanced at his watch and cursed. Vesemir would not be impressed with him. He was much later than he’d anticipated but he could always say it was an exception for the first day.

He pulled out his phone and hit his second speed dial.

Vesemir picked up on the second ring “Ah White Wolf. You’d better have a good explanation.” Vesemir chuckled.

“Ah. Fuck. Yes.” Geralt sighed. “I’m on my way.”

_____________

Geralt ached. His body was tired from running drills with Lambert, Eskel and Renfri all morning. They had also been called out a few times. Nothing major luckily, an unfortunate microwave incident in the local University dorms, a couple of house calls that were easily contained and the hugely stereotypical my cat is stuck in a tree call. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he unlocked the door to his flat. He’d barely stepped across the threshold when a blur of ashen blonde hair came flying at him and he caught Ciri in his arms and spun her around.

“Geralt!” She giggled happily as she flew through the air.

“Hi Princess. How was school?” He asked his ward.

“It was great! Mr Jaskier is the best!” She sang happily. “He was telling us all about words that sound the same, and Dara can’t hear properly so Mr Jaskier is teaching us how to speak with our hands!”

“Yeah?” Geralt smiled fondly down at the young girl as he carried them both to the kitchen where Coën was waiting for them both. Geralt nodded at him in greeting. “What words sound the same?” He prompted wondering how much she would have learnt on her first day.

“Yeah! Like bee and tree!” Ciri nattered away happily.

“Hmm. And you were a good girl for Coën when he picked you up from school?” He asked.

Ciri pouted. “I’m always good!”

Geralt chuckled. “Of course.” He turned to her babysitter. “Thanks Coën. Any problems?”

“None at all. She was an angel.” Coën said with a laugh as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. “She’s even been teaching me how to sign the alphabet. Ciri, show Geralt how to sign your name.” Coën asked with a gentle smile. Ciri beamed back and scrunched up her nose and she slowly spelled out her name with her hands.

Geralt made a mental note to look up sign language courses online. If one of Ciri’s friends used sign language then it was only a matter of time before they ended up on a playdate and he wanted to be able to communicate with his ward’s friends and support Ciri in her learning.

“That’s good, Ciri.” He praised a little awkwardly. He’d never been particularly open with his feelings but it was something he was working on for her. He knew children needed praise and encouragement so he was trying his best.

The three of them sat in the kitchen for a few minutes whilst Ciri tried to go through the whole alphabet. She forgot a few of the later letters but Coën had already looked them up on his phone and was able to remind her. Geralt’s respect for the teenager grew. He was the son of one of Vesemir’s former colleagues and Vesemir had recommended him as a babysitter once he heard about Calanthe and Eist’s death.

Once Ciri had reached the end of the alphabet, Coën hugged her goodbye and Geralt shook his hand. “I’ll see you both tomorrow then. Bye Ciri!” He called with a wave before picking up his bag and heading to the front door.

“See ya!” Ciri waved him goodbye and then turned her attention back to Geralt. “Did you know nothing sounds like orange?”

“Hmm. I did. Did Mr Jaskier tell you that?” Geralt asked as he lowered Ciri back to the floor and began to root around in the fridge for his dinner.

“Yup! Purple doesn’t have a word rhyme either.” Ciri grinned.

“Hmm. I never thought about that. Mr Jaskier is a clever man.” Geralt smiled softly at the memory of Jaskier’s bright eyes and kind smile.

“He’s the bestest!” Ciri agreed. “but don’t worry, Dad, you’re still my favourite.”

Geralt’s heart stopped in his chest.

“Dad?” He asked quietly.

“Well obviously.” Ciri said with her hands on her hips.

“Come here.” Geralt said and pulled her into a big hug.

“Oh there’s something from Mr Jaskier on the table for you!” Ciri said as she squirmed in his arms.

“Hmm?” Geralt let his daughter go and saw a yellow envelope on the table.

“He said to make sure you saw it.” Ciri insisted.

Geralt flipped the envelope over. He was sealed shut by a small blob of teal wax. Geralt chuckled at the sight of it. He should have known that Ciri’s teacher would be the extravagant type. He opened the envelope carefully, tracing the elegant letters of his name. He’d never known anyone else with such dramatic writing. He wondered if Jaskier wrote on the whiteboard like that or whether he’d made an effort for the letter. Geralt scowled at that. Why would Jaskier make an effort for him? He shook the thought from his mind. He wasn’t special. Jaskier had probably written a letter like this to all the parents.

The writing inside, however, wasn’t nearly as neat. It wasn’t bad but it was definitely more of a scrawl than calligraphy.

Hi Geralt!

Thank you for coming in to see me on Ciri’s first day. I always prefer to meet the parents sooner rather than later so we can work together to give the kids the best start in life that we can. Normally I would send an email at the end of the week to give all the parents an update on their child’s progress and what we’ve learnt but it’s the first day so that’s all a bit exciting isn’t it?

Ciri is an absolute delight! She makes friends very easily and seems to have the whole class wrapped around her little finger. She’s even managed to bring one of the shyer kids, Dara, out of his shell. You should be very proud of her.

On a more serious note, Ciri has noticed that her family situation isn’t exactly common. Most of the kids in our class have two parents or live with their mother. We had to have a little chat after lunch. She got a bit upset that she didn’t have a mum and dad but we talked about how family is important, especially the ones we choose. If there’s anything I can do to help please let me know. If there are any topics that are best to avoid etc.

Anyhoo! Today we learnt about rhyming words and started work on writing our numbers and alphabet. In the morning we learnt a new song together and started learning sign language! A wonderful skill to have, I think, and this afternoon we had to draw one of the things that made us happy. Ciri should have her drawing done by the end of tomorrow! I expect to see all her drawings pinned to the fridge. No slacking, Geralt.

I am absolutely thrilled to be teaching Ciri this year! Here’s to the rest of a brilliant year with the Buttercups!

Kindest Regards,

Jaskier.

Geralt didn’t realise he was smiling until Ciri peered up at him with a smirk on her face.

“Dad, do you like Mr Jaskier?” She cackled.

“He’s a good teacher, Princess.” He scowled down at her.

“He’s got pretty eyes.” Ciri hummed thoughtfully.

“Cirilla. Go to bed.” Geralt snapped.

“But Dad!” She whined.

“Don’t forget your teeth.” He grunted.

“Urgh. Fine.” She stormed off upstairs in a huff.

Geralt gently traced the letters of Jaskier’s name at the bottom of the paper. Jaskier was a beautiful man, there was no denying that. It was the first thing Geralt had noticed when he’d walked into Ciri’s classroom. You’d have to blind not to notice that, even Yen would probably agree and Jaskier was decidedly not her usual type, and he was kind. He was good with the kids. He talked too much. That much was evident but he’d already won over Ciri and Geralt had been impressed by how he’d handled the sensitive subject of Ciri’s home life, both that morning and in the letter.

That didn’t mean he liked him though.

It was just well-deserved respect.

He pictured Jaskier’s blinding smile and the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Geralt felt a warmth bubble up in his chest at the thought. He put the letter in his pocket and slumped down into a chair, resting his head on this the table.

“Fuck.”

_______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #triss merigold #cirilla fiona elen riannon #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #modern au #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing #five chapters posted on Ao3 #updates on saturdays

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze pt.3/25

Vesemir grumbled under his breath as he scoured through the statistics from the last month. There had been a spike in calls recently, probably from the university students being back in town. The youths were reckless little shits who still hadn’t leant that cooking whilst being blind drunk was not a good idea, no matter how much you wanted chicken nuggets at three in the morning. There were also an unusual amount of false alarms or being called to incidents that really didn’t need the fire crew to attend.

In short, they were fucking busy.

And the team was not as efficient as it could be. Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose. They didn’t have the government funding to open recruitment for more full-time fighters right now right now but they were currently struggling to keep up with demand. They were relying on the on-call teams more and more with every quarter. He sighed as he looked through the stats again, focussing this time on each team member’s performance.

“Oh Geralt.” Vesemir growled. “You can do better than that.”

He’d been too lenient on the man. He’d practically raised Geralt after his parents had fallen to drink after the accident that had left the younger man covered in burns. Vesemir had been a friend of the family for years. He’d never forget the terror that gripped him when the call had come in. The smoke billowing from the windows of the house that he’d spent so many evenings drinking wine over a good roast dinner. The ache in his heart when Visenna and Korin burst through the doors, soot covered and screaming for their son just as the fire engine had pulled up to the house.

Vesemir had torn through the house, not caring about his own safety as the heat become unbearable even through his uniform. He’d found Geralt cowering under the bed, trapped by a fierce blaze in his room. His pyjama shirt had been burnt clean off and Vesemir could see, even through the smoke, that the young boy had some nasty burns scorched into his chest. He’d saved Geralt’s life that day but the boys parents had never recovered from the guilt.

And now history seemed to be repeating itself with young Ciri. Geralt was trying to his best with the young girl, and to be fair to Geralt, Ciri appeared to have accepted him as her new family with no problem. Vesemir had allowed Geralt to take parental leave over the school holidays when Ciri first arrived in his life as a permanent fixture, just like if Ciri had been a newborn baby to a new father. However, once summer had turned to autumn, Geralt returned to work full time. He insisted that he would be able to drop Ciri off at school in the mornings, which Vesemir had happily allowed. The plan was that when Geralt eventually worked on-call night shifts again then one of his team mates would stay at Geralt’s flat to keep an eye on Ciri, or Yennefer would stay if she was in town. Geralt also had a babysitter, Coën, for during the week so he didn’t have to worry about getting home in time to pick the girl up from school.

All in all the young girl had been adopted into the fire family without hesitation. She had the entire wolf pack wrapped around her finger, even some of the cats had taken a shine to her from when Geralt had had to bring her to work on the weekends, and that rota was not known for their friendly attitude. They were a highly skilled group, made up mostly of volunteers who worked on-call shifts only, but their wit was scathing and the team banter bordered on inappropriate at times. Most of the grievances raised between the teams were against the cats.

The wolf pack, Vesemir’s own team from when he went out on jobs were more familial. They were siblings. They were the largest team of full-time firefighters and the glue that held the station together. The wolves tended to work daytime shifts whilst being on-call over night should any incidents occur. They worked opposite to the bears who were rota’d on day shifts when the wolves had their days off and vice versa. The bears’ volunteer on-call support tended to be the griffins rota but it wasn’t always the way.

Vesemir worked with all four teams as chief in the fire station, managing the rota and liaising with the supervisors for the other teams to ensure the whole operation ran smoothly. He just preferred to be in the office with the wolves. He had never quite overcome his bias towards his old team.

But Geralt had been erratic recently. He’d had to leave early all last week when Coën went off sick with the flu, and he’d been later than expected in the mornings too. Whilst at work he seemed distracted and just really not on peak form. It was having a bad impact on the rest of the team and Vesemir knew it was time to confront the problem.

He sighed.

This was only going to make him seem like the bad guy which really he’d rather avoid but it came with the job unfortunately.

He stood up wearily, wincing at the twin clicks of his knees, and exited his office.

“Geralt. Office. Now.” He barked.

“Oooh.” Lambert smirked. “What have you done now, White Wolf?”

“Fuck off Lambert.” Geralt snapped.

“Watch your mouth, Geralt.” Vesemir growled at the younger man. “Lambert, I want you and Eskel doing truck maintenance. We don’t have time to be sitting around on our backsides. Make sure all the gear is in the truck and nothing is damaged. I don’t want another trip to hospital because someone didn’t make sure their ventilator was working properly. Renfri, stay here and watch the phone. Geralt, with me.”

There was a groan from the room.

“Can’t I help with the truck?” Renfri moaned. “I hate manning the phone!”

Vesemir sighed as he considered her request. “Fine. Eskel and Renfri on the truck. Lambert you’re on phones, but next time I expect you not to undermine me Shrike.”

“Understood, Sir.” Renfri nodded and stuck her tongue out at Lambert.

“But…”

“No buts Lambert. Go.” Vesemir clapped his hands. “We haven’t got all day!”

The team scattered as they went to do their assigned tasks and Geralt slunk into the office behind him.

“Sit, Geralt.” Vesemir gestured to the small chair on the other side of his desk as he made himself comfortable in his own arm chair.

Geralt squeezed himself into the chair but remained silent, preferring to wait for Vesemir to start the conversation.

“You need a better plan for Cirilla.” Vesemir admitted with a sigh. Geralt tensed up immediately but remained silent. “I know last week was hard, Geralt, what with Coën letting you down but there has got to be a backup plan.”

Geralt grunted and covered his face with his hands. “I know. I’ll do better. I can do better.”

Vesemir nodded. “I know, Geralt. We can figure it out but whatever we’re doing now isn’t working. You can see that right? When you’re at work I need you focused on the job otherwise you could be putting the pack in danger. I will not risk their lives like that. What’s going on, son?”

“She called me Dad the other week and, fuck, I’m not. I can’t.” Geralt groaned.

“You’re worried you won’t be enough.” Vesemir guessed.

“I was never meant to be her father, Vesemir. Duny and Pavetta… They weren’t supposed to die. Fuck, then Calanthe and Eist too. She’s been through so much already. How could I possibly be good enough? I thought maybe Yen. I could ask her to try again. She’s always wanted a kid.” Geralt was panicking. That much was clear.

“Geralt. You know I adore Yennefer. She’s like family to me but don’t you think you’ve tried enough? You make each other miserable. That’s no way to raise a child, and a child won’t fix your relationship.” He sighed.

“Fuck. I know. I know that!” Geralt snapped. “But I can’t. I can’t do this on my own. How am I supposed to raise a kid? My own father was a piece of shit!”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow at the younger man. “Family is more than blood, Geralt. You know the entire wolf pack has your back. If it gets that bad then you’ll bring her in more often. She can stay here in the office with me, I don’t mind.”

Geralt’s yellow eyes flashed wide as he processed Vesemir’s words. “You sure?”

“Well she can’t stay in the house on her own. What about the school? Are there any after school clubs she could join?” Vesemir suggested.

Geralt shook her head. “No she’s too young for the clubs but she’s loving school. Her teacher, Jaskier, he’s really good with her.”

To Vesemir’s surprise, Geralt blushed.

“And this Jaskier, was he there when you went to pick her up last week?” Vesemir asked with a tilt of his head.

Geralt nodded. “Yes. He played guitar for her until I arrived to keep her calm. Ciri hasn’t stopped telling me about it since. Every evening it’s ‘Mr Jaskier says this.’ and ‘Mr Jaskier told us that!’ She’s completely smitten.”

“Hmm.” Vesemir said thoughtfully.

“And I’m happy for her, really I am. I’m glad she’s enjoying school but I just can’t help thinking that she should have someone like Jaskier as her father not me. I’m no good with kids, Vesemir.” Geralt groaned and sunk further down into his too small chair.

Vesemir laughed as he spotted the opportunity to tease the younger wolf. “You want Jaskier to be her father? Isn’t that a bit fast to be proposing to someone Geralt?”

“What?” Geralt’s head snapped up. “Fuck. No. That’s not. Fuck!”

Geralt stood up abruptly and glared fiercely at Vesemir. A lesser man might have been intimidated by the younger man but Vesemir just laughed. “Where’s your sense of humour gone Geralt?” He chuckled. “Go on. Get out of here, but remember what I said. I need your head back in the game, Geralt and we’ll sit down another time and work out a back up strategy for Ciri’s childcare.”

“Hmm.” Geralt growled and stalked out of the room.

Vesemir smirked at the younger man as he hurried from the room and then turned back to his computer with a sigh.

God he missed going out on calls. Paperwork was so fucking boring.

_______________

Just over a week after his little heart to heart with Geralt, Vesemir had a plan. Geralt was talking about Ciri and her teacher more and more during shifts. Even the other wolves had now picked up on it and it had become an endless source of entertainment for the pack. Vesemir wasn’t quite sure whether Geralt had noticed his fixation with Jaskier Pankratz but he was sure that he would go mad if he had to hear anymore about him. So far he could tell you what Jaskier’s favourite colour was (yellow), how many instruments the man could play that Geralt knew of (guitar, piano, harp and strangely the lute?), the colour of his eyes (cornflower blue) and his Starbucks coffee order (Caramel latte with an extra shot of coffee and cinnamon on top). Vesemir wasn’t even sure he wanted to know how Geralt knew all of that about his daughter’s school teacher.

Geralt hadn’t been this smitten in a long time, not since Yennefer. The worst thing was that the man seemed to be completely oblivious, or in serious denial. Vesemir had known Geralt was not solely attracted to women for a long time. He’d been one of the first people Geralt had come out to during his teens. It had been a bit of a shock at first but it had been a learning experience. No one would look at Geralt and assume he was anything but straight. It was on that day that Vesemir really started to understand why you should never judge a book by its cover.

Geralt had been pretty calm about it. He’d strolled into Vesemir’s kitchen one morning with a tall brunet trailing behind him and announced that the boy was now his boyfriend and they were going out to see a film.

It had taken Vesemir a while to realise that Geralt had been terrified about his reaction which was why the pair of them had scarpered so quickly. He’d managed to confront Geralt later on about the whole affair. It had been an awkward conversation. Neither of them were particularly verbose but Vesemir had assured the young lad that it didn’t matter who he was attracted to, Vesemir was his family and that was never going to change. They shared an awkward one armed hug and Geralt had gone up to the room Vesemir kept set up for him.

Over the years Geralt hadn’t had many long term relationships, Yennefer Vengerberg being the most prominent and long lasting, and as far as Vesemir was aware, Geralt tended to date women over other genders and it had been a long time since he’d seen the younger firefighter be so infatuated with another man.

He was determined to be as supportive as he could and show Geralt that he was ok with his choice of partner regardless of their gender.

The first part of Vesemir’s plan was to talk to Stregobor from Ciri’s school. The station was getting busier and he was sure it was because people were, quite frankly, morons. Everyone in the damn town seemed to have forgotten basic fire safety. They needed to counteract that, and fast, before someone got hurt. The best way to do that was to engage with the community in an interactive event, starting with the schools.

And if it gave him an excuse to meet the famous Mr Pankratz, well then, that was just a bonus.

The only downside was having to face the demon headmaster himself.

Stregobor was a fucking prick of a man. Not to mention he had unfortunate history with Renfri. Renfri had attended the school when she was younger and the headmaster had decided very early on that the young girl could do nothing right. She was constantly in detention and Stregobor had personally made it his mission to attack every bit of work the she did. Vesemir hadn’t known Renfri at the time but it was one of her favourite topics of conversation when the pack were in between calls. She’d had a troubled childhood but then so did everyone on the team. They were a band of misfits. Vesemir wouldn’t change it for the world.

The team was busy with a call, a house fire on the outskirts of Lower Posada. The call had reported that the fire had started in the kitchen, as most fires did, however the household had reportedly had a history of domestic abuse and the local police department were attending the call with the Wolves to look for signs of arson. It was always messy when the police were involved with their calls. The police were used to taking point on cases but in arson jobs it was down to his team. It meant long hours for both teams and an emotionally challenging day for all involved. He’d sent an email round to the on-call firefighters to let them know that the whole Wolf pack were out. He’d believed it was only fair to keep them updated on situations like that. No one enjoyed getting their day disrupted out of the blue and if any other calls came in it would be down to the Cats to take the call.

He looked up at the photograph that was hung on the wall. His own face stared back, wrinkle free and chestnut brown hair. He was in his uniform with his own team from when he’d first joined the fire brigade. They were all retired now, those that were still alive. He wondered what they would think of him, tucked safely behind his desk and buried under his paperwork. He’d always proudly announced that he would never become the chief for that very reason. His heart was behind the hose and up the ladders, he’d say, one of the best firefighters of his time.

He chuckled his past naivety.

When his knees had begun to creak and he wasn’t able to keep up with the fitness required to be a full time firefighter he hadn’t had the heart to retire. He loved being a fireman and he loved helping Posada and the surrounding towns. Geralt had just been starting his own training as a fireman with Eskel at the time and Vesemir suddenly realised he now had the chance to pass on his knowledge and experience to a brand new generation of firefighters. So he’d taken the promotion and stayed on whilst his friends and colleagues had slowly retired from the job one by one.

It didn’t mean he enjoyed paperwork anymore than his younger self had.

He sighed and dialled the number in his hands.

“Good Afternoon, Dol Blathanna School, Ms Merigold speaking, How can I help?” The receptionist spoke politely.

“Good Afternoon. My name is Vesemir. I’m calling from Morhen Fire Station. I was wondering if I could speak to the headmaster?”

“Vesemir. Geralt Rivia’s boss?” Ms Merigold asked.

He was taken back by the question. “Yes.” He grunted, wondering where she was going with this.

“Geralt has you listed as one of Ciri’s emergency contacts. Is there something wrong with her father?” Ms Merigold sounded concerned.

“No. Nothing like that.” Vesemir tried to assure her. “I’m calling about trying to organise a day for my crew to come in and speak with the kids.”

“Would Mr Rivia be there?” The receptionist asked with a mischievous tone to her voice.

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate to be asking that, Ms Merigold.” Vesemir replied cautiously.

But she just laughed. “Oh gods, no. I’m asking for a friend. I swear. No. Also we’d have to consider Ciri having her father coming to school.”

Vesemir hummed thoughtfully. “This friend wouldn’t happen to be Ciri’s teacher would it?”

Ms Merigold cackled on the other end of the line.

The plan it seems was going swimmingly.

________

Vesemir strode out into the yard where the wolves were all running fitness drills. He appraised their form and technique for a few minutes before calling out.

“Right! Gather round!” He shouted so that his voice could be heard even from the top of the tower where Eskel was currently hanging. “Careful on your dismount, Eskel. No showing off.”

“Yes sir!” Eskel called back but when he was a few feet off the ground he pushed himself back and backflipped to the ground, landing with a grin.

“Eskel.” Vesemir growled. “Once we’re done here I want you running laps.”

“Sorry Chief.” He chuckled but had the decency to bow his head.

“Boys.” Renfri muttered under her breath as she joined Geralt and Lambert in the middle of the yard in front of Vesemir.

“What’s up, Chief?” Lambert asked. “The alarms haven’t gone off.”

“Your observation skills astound me, Lambert.” Vesemir replied dryly.

“What? I’m just saying.” Lambert raised his hands in defence.

Geralt hit Lambert gently in the arm. “Maybe if you shut up, we’ll find out.”

“Enough.” Vesemir groaned. “I have an announcement. This time next week we have a special call to attend. I’ve already agreed that the cats will cover the station as part of their volunteer on-call hours. You will be required elsewhere.”

“Yeah! Field trip!” Eskel punched the air and cheered. The other three firefighters seemed less impressed.

“I can’t leave Ciri overnight.” Geralt huffed and crossed his arms.

“You won’t have to.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow. “In fact, you’ll be seeing her during the day.”

Geralt frowned. “What?”

“We’re going to Dol Blathanna School for the day.” Vesemir smirked as Lambert, Geralt and Renfri all looked like they were being sent to their death. Eskel, give him his due, was the only one who still seemed happy with the news.

“This is a joke?” Lambert asked. “Please, dearest Melitele, say this is a joke.”

“No.” Renfri snarled. “I’m sorry Vesemir but absolutely not!”

Geralt remained silent.

“I’m shit with children!” Lambert protested. “They get all grabby hands and they always want to play with the sirens. I can’t spend the whole day listening to sirens.” He groaned.

“The parents are worse.” Eskel pointed out.

“Fuck. The parents are worse!” Lambert moaned. “They all think we’re strippers! Vesemir please say this is a joke.”

Vesemir smirked. “Geralt? You’ve been quiet.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“To raise awareness for fire safety with the kids and their parents.” Vesemir replied. “You’ll all have noticed that there’s been an increase in calls recently.”

There was an affirmative grumble from the pack.

“It’s a good idea.” Geralt admitted.

“Traitor.” Lambert hissed.

“He’s only saying that because Jaskier works at the school.” Renfri muttered.

“This has nothing to do with Ciri’s teacher.” Geralt snapped. “I just think it will be a good preventative measure. I’m tired of being called out for stupid reasons.”

“I’m still not going to that hell hole.” Renfri glared fiercely at Vesemir.

“I know, child.” Vesemir nodded. “That’s why I’m giving you the chance to stay behind with the cats. It would be good for the kids to see you at the school, we need more girls on the team, but I won’t force you back.”

“I’ll stay.” Renfri said. “Otherwise Stregobor will end up with the firehose around his neck.”

Vesemir rolled his eyes at the venom in her voice. “Shrike, they’ll be no killing.” He admonished.

“I was joking.” He mumbled. “Mostly.”

“So it’s settled.” Vesemir nodded at his team. “Next Thursday we’ll be visiting Dol Blathanna School, with the exception of Renfri. No Lambert, you are not staying behind, and Geralt I expect to be introduced to young Ciri’s teacher. We’ve all heard so much about him.”

Geralt groaned and turned on his heels to head back into the station, leaving the rest of the wolf pack howling with laughter.

_____

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #vesemir #geralt x jaskier #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #modern au #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing

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berjhawn · 4 years

Text

In My Head - Ch. 3 - Fuck I’m Screwed

Warnings: guts ; pubs ; etc

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

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

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

Master-list in bio

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, I had horrible luck as we ended up in the mountains. Snow falling all around us. Thankfully we were able to purchase some warm cloaks at a nearby pub. I look around at the people in the pub trying to figure out where to begin. Who in this world would be connected to Hydra? A mage probably.

I thrum my fingers on the table absentmindedly. Thor slides me a pint of ale and I give him a smile in thanks as I lift the pint to my lips. I almost spit it out as I see a familiar face walk down the stairs a smile on his face. Wanda noticing my reaction follows my gaze to see who I am looking at.

“Is that him?” Wanda asks pulling me from my silent freak out.

“Who?” I ask looking at her.

“Geralt?” She whispers and I shake my head.

“No, that’s Jaskier, the bard that’s almost always with him.” I confirm my eyes not leaving the man’s figure.

My eyes never left him, not even when the door swung open to reveal a bigger man rushing in with blood dried on his body.

“I tell you no lie…” He starts the whole pub listening to his words. “It swallowed the whole village. It did.” The people all gasp and I turn to look at Thor who was listening just as intently. “Not a bone to be found.”

The storyteller’s eyes find someone in the corner and he says, “Oh, don’t give me that, Shitling. That’s why we had to call him… The White Wolf. And he stood in the middle of that frozen lake like he knew it was coming for him. The Ice cracked open and the Selkiemore shot out! Oh, you’ve never seen one, but it would take down a ship with it’s cavernous mouth full of devil’s teeth.” He pauses as the room gasps. “And it… swallowed… that Witcher… whole.”

“Oh, this is brilliant.” I hear Jaskier says and I smirk to myself. “Oh Sorry, it’s just, Geralt’s usually so stingy with the details. Uh, then what happened?”

“He died.” The man replies, the room gasps, and I roll my eyes.

“Eh, he’s fine.” Jaskier concludes and my smile is back.

“Look, I was there.” The man continues, “I saw it with my own-” the man didn’t get to finish as the pub doors swung open with enough force to bang off the walls and call everyone’s attention to it. My heart catches in my throat as he walks through the door, and even though he was covered in guts I knew it was him.

“See.” Jaskier concludes.

“Oh, What’s that stench?” The man from before asks.

“Selkiemore guts.” Geralt answers.

“Ugh.”

“Had to get it from the inside. I’ll take what I’m owed.”

Jaskier starts singing ‘Toss a Coin to Your Witcher’ and as the man hands over a purse of coin the rest of the pub joins in.

“So that’s him.” Wanda concludes and I nod.

“Uh huh.” I reply my eyes focused solely on his back as he walks over to the bar.

“I like him.” Thor announces making Wanda and I slowly look over at him. “He doesn’t mind getting messy.” I let out a chuckle as I shake my head.

“Food, Women, and Wine; Geralt!” Jaskier yells and I look back to see that Geralt had left the bar and was now facing us. I don’t know why I did, but I turned and hid my face from his view. I guess I still held some hope that the woman he saw in his dreams was me and I didn’t think I could handle it if I wasn’t. Geralt turns and walking back to the bard continues his conversation.

“What am I doing?” I ask running my hands down my face. “I didn’t come here for him; I came to find out who was talking to Hydra.”

“Well, you weren’t looking for him, true, but you did find him.” Wanda says from beside me. I turn to look at her with questioning eyes only to have her bring her pint to her lips and look away from me. I look at Thor who gives me a playful smile and I roll my eyes.

“Can we talk about something else please?” I ask. “We need to find a mage.”

“Is it a mage you’re looking for?” A passerby asks pulling our attention toward the young man.

“It is,” I agree then leaning forward against the table smile as I continue, “Tell me, do you know where I can find one?”

“The castle.” He blurts a look of confusion filling his eyes that he replied so quickly.

“Tell me, how does one get to the castle, and when would be the best time to do so?”

“The princess of Cintra, Pavetta, is getting engaged. Tonight, is her betrothal party, people from all around will be there. If you follow the main trail out of town you will be there just before sundown.”

“Thank you,” I say and he offers me a smile before his brow furrows and he walks away.

“Was that necessary?” Wanda asks and I shrug my shoulders.

“Honestly I just wanted to see if my powers worked here.” I reply pushing away from the table to stand up. “And they do.”

“So, a party?” Wanda continues as she stands with me followed by Thor. “What are we gonna wear?”

“Good question.” I ponder as I look from her to Thor. “Honestly Thor could probably just wear what he’s wearing.”

“Good, I don’t have to change.” Thor adds downing his pint.

“I guess we could wear these, there’s not really enough time to find dresses or change. That is if we wanna make it in time.”

“Then let’s go.” Thor announces pushing from the table to stand next to us and motion toward the door. As we move around the table, I look back to the bar to see Jaskier looking towards us with a look of curiosity in his eyes and I offer him a smile. He says something to Geralt and before the Witcher can turn to look our way I instantly make my way out the door.

Outside, the cold air slaps me in the face causing a shiver to wash over me. Pulling my cloak closed I let out a heavy sigh. My eyes move to a nearby horse and my face lights up.

“Roach!” I call out as I run over to her. Her head snaps to me as a soft nicker leaves her throat in recognition. “Oh, so you could see me?” I joke as she pushes her nose into my hand.

“Who’s this?” Wanda asks moving next to me her hand gently patting Roach’s shoulder.

“This is Roach, Geralt’s horse.”

“And she recognizes you?” Wanda inquires.

“I had a theory on it, you know how animals can sense things we can’t, I figured she could see me since her eyes always found me when I would show up.” I explain scratching the white strip on her forehead.

“We have to go.” Thor announces and I nod.

“See you around Roach. I’ll miss you.” I say as I give her one last pat. “Take care of your rider for me.” Her head nudges my shoulder and I smile.

Will Continue -

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