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glassworkspiderlilies · 3 years

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ragnarok

Genshin Impact | Twin Travelers & Ensemble Cast | AO3 Summary: Blame your Heavenly Sustainer. Notes: Finished this up late last night and threw it on ao3 in a flurry and went to bed LOL. was/am kind of taking a break from writing but instead of not working on my projects, i just wrote this terrible thing instead (that’s what taking a break is, right??) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It goes like this:

Their fingers graze when the sister reaches out for her brother in his red prison, and it is enough. His fingers close around hers and she pulls, pulls him out and away—they know that freedom is only for a second, but if they must go, they will go together.

The red god’s fingers close into a fist, the action already in motion when the sister had gone for her brother, and though the result is not her intention it is too late to stop, outliers as they are.

Red and black closes around both siblings in time with the red god’s hand, and two stars plummet to earth, the sky blazing red and white and gold, the air smelling of scorched ozone.

They awaken.

There is fierce joy in their success at staying together-whole; they know it was a near thing. But they sense what has been lost, and are furious.

They lift their face to the sky and scream, and though their voices are small in comparison to the cliffs and ocean that surrounds them, it reaches the places that matter. Even now they still hold power.

The heavens shudder. The gods lift their heads. The blessed ones stand alert.

Meanwhile, the poor fool mortals know nothing at all.

There is a storm with their coming, a wailing wind that whips around the windmills with abandon, so sharp it could shred leaves from their branches.

Turn back! Turn back! it shrieks, but the twins do not listen. They advance unapologetically, and even when the blue-green dragon rises from its slumber, roaring Danger! Danger!, the mortals do not understand.

But the Acting Grandmaster and her entourage are no fools, their Visions glow bright with warning and even if they know not what they will encounter, they move. In the end, all the Vision-wielders in the city of Mondstadt follow her to the city gates, where a pair of twins are just strolling through the entrance.

“Hail, Travelers,” The Acting Grandmaster greets, tone amicable from the top of the stairs. “Welcome to Mondstadt, despite this poor weather.”

The twins looks at her, molten gold eyes ablaze, and her heart beats faster, nerves thrumming with adrenaline.

“Where?”

It is the brother that speaks first; his voice is harsh and grating and the tongue is not the common language, but it is understood nonetheless. His sister speaks next, no less violent to the ear, and as they alternate their voices form a strange, lilting cacophony.

“Where?”

“Where is the god that has caged us?”

“Where is the god that has stolen from us?”

“I do not know, fair ones,” the Acting Grandmaster says cautiously, trying not to wince with every syllable of the twins’ speech, “Please, if you would—calm down, if only for a moment, we could perhaps—listen and aid you in your—your troubles—”

The air goes still, so suddenly flat and stagnant that it steals the breath from their lungs; they choke on the deadness before the wind circulates again. In that brief moment, the twins have surged up the stairs, circling the Acting Grandmaster once before they are halted; the eyepatched Cavalry Captain has a hoarfrost sword pointed at the brother, while the red-haired Uncrowned King bars the sister’s path with a flaming claymore.

But the twins pay no attention, hovering even closer to the blades, heedless of potential burning.

“Calm?” they ask, hauntingly discordant. “Calm? Calm? You—“

Their hands flash out and the Uncrowned King and Cavalry Captain lurch forward as the Visions hanging from their belts are wrenched, the elements on their weapons winking out.

“Will you stay calm when your own is stolen?” the sister hisses, her fingers tightening on the King’s red gift.

“Will you stay calm when it is you who is powerless?” the brother seethes, eyes cold as the pale turquoise orb in his hand.

The Acting Grandmaster’s eyes widen.

“No, please, don’t—!”

The scent of ozone, and rust, the pure sound of cracking—

“Halt!”

The sky goes seafoam-green, and feathers float gently down from the sky.

A boy descends, winged and clad in white, lyre in hand with its string thrumming. His descent is idyllic, serene, and the people know him for who he is—their errant god, who has apparently wandered their streets as a simple bard.

“Cease,” Barbatos says, his dragon-companion circling the air above, “They have nothing to do with what you seek.”

The twins loose their holds, and the two men stumble back, eyes shaken and warier.

“A god,” the brother spits, looking up with narrowed eyes.

The Anemo Archon tilts his head curiously, scrutinizing the twins as he drops a little lower, a barrier between his blessed ones and the twins.

“Hail,” he says, though his tone is too neutral to be welcoming, “I would thank you not to harm the citizens. City of freedom this might be, but some things should still be avoided, wouldn’t you agree?”

A silence, then the twins bare their teeth, sneering.

“Freedom?”

“What is freedom when your wings have been torn from your very back?”

“What is freedom when you merely exist in a gilded cage?”

The Archon raises his brows, drawing his fingers across the lyre.

“Who has done this to you?” he asks cautiously, “Your song is harsh and bitter, your rage sends the birds atwitter. You are not mortals nor Vision-blessed nor Archon…and yet those who hold power like yours…I can think of none.”

The twins listen to his lilting words with some interest, and for a moment it seems that they do calm. But then the sister smiles again, wintry and sharp.

“You are beautiful, God of Wind,” she says, “But that will not help you.”

“Outlanders, outliers, call us what you wish,” the brother says, “But to whom? Centuries we wandered without interruption. We, too, are part of the natural order of this world. So…”

“Just whose arrogance needs to end?”

“And who will pay the price for it?”

Despite whatever they have lost, they are fast. The lyre drops from the Archon’s hands as the sister plunges her hand into his chest and twists; he cries out, the notes high and crystalline.

“Who…” the Archon gasps, unable to manage more.

The sister does not answer the question he means to ask, but gives him an answer nonetheless.

“Blame your Heavenly Sustainer,” she hisses.

The Acting Grandmaster and her entourage do not even have time to move as the Archon’s form glows green, then wavers and dissipates like wisps of wind. When the sister opens her hand, there is a little green vial-like thing in her palm; she reaches for her brother, and in another moment the vial is gone, and the twins’ eyes glow green just for a moment as it does.

“Wh…at….” The Acting Grandmaster finally gasps, shaking and horrified, “What did you do?!”

The brother looks at her with disinterest.

“What is freedom when demanded of you by a god?” he asks, and both the Uncrowned King and Cavalry Captain’s eyes widen.

“What is freedom when the god of such things is gone?” the sister follows.

She waves her hand, a strong gust of wind whipping through the square. The mortals close their eyes and throw up their hands at the strength of it, but they hear the dragon scream, his sorrow and rage shaking them to their core.

When they open their eyes again, the twins are gone and the dragon is on the ground, limp but breathing. Desperate whines escape him as he shudders, and the Acting Grandmaster collapses by his side, eyes still wide with shock.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, laying a hand on his side. “Oh, Dvalin, I’m sorry.”

The dragon lets out a high-pitched sound, but she cannot understand him. The city is abuzz, and the Vision-wielders look at each other uneasily, for the twins spoke true—

How did they define their own freedom, and now that the so-named God of Freedom was presumably gone…what did that mean for them, and the city?

Outside the city, deep in the forests, the wolves and the wolf-raised one raise their heads and scent the air. It smells different; they know something is amiss.

They howl. The air is flat, stale. What does it mean that the wind no longer sings?

Yet the wind still blows. The howls still carry.

But the wind is only the wind. The howls are only howls.

There is nothing to be understood beyond that.

The Geo Archon masquerading as a simple funeral consultant sighs when he feels trouble step over into his domain and sets down his teacup. The Eleventh Harbinger looks at him curiously as he reaches for a piece of fried shrimp with his chopsticks.

“It seems our time may be cut short,” the Geo Archon says, and the young Harbinger raises an eyebrow.

“That’s ominous,” he says, successfully relocating the shrimp onto his plate, “Coming from you.”

The Geo Archon does not answer. He frowns, then walks over to the window and throws it open.

He goes still.

“Ominous, indeed,” he murmurs.

The Harbinger blinks as he chews, then lays down his chopsticks and leans back in his seat.

“What,” he says slowly, trying to decipher the other man’s body language and failing, “Exactly did you mean?”

The Geo Archon turns and stares at him, his gold and amber eyes unreadable, yet more somber than usual.

“You may not wish to depart Liyue,” he finally says, “But you will soon, to bear news to the Tsaritsa. If you will be able to leave by then.”

The Harbinger sneers, half-laughing.

“Is that a threat?” he grins, baring his teeth, but the Archon shakes his head.

“Merely a fact. You will leave, whether you like it or not. And the same is true of me.”

He sits back down and resumes eating. The Harbinger stares, baffled.

“Ah, already they come,” the Archon says, with a sigh, though his does not hurry his pace.

The Harbinger does not understand, but as he looks out the window, the panes rattle in their frames as a storm arrives in Liyue.

In the end, the Geo Archon goes peacefully. He is the oldest of the current Seven; there is a chance that could overpower these two strange twins, who have consumed the second-oldest Archon.

But he is tired, and the battle could devastate Liyue. He meets them outside the city, and their exchange is almost pleasant, even if he knows there is something vicious underneath their human veneer.

“But I will not…cannot break a contract forged by my own hand,” he posits, and the twins smile at him.

“How fortuitous that you do not need to,” the brother says, his tone a fine line between mocking and kind, “Is it a relief, to not have control over something, Purveyor of Endurance?”

The Archon does not answer, which is answer enough. The sister peers up at him, reaching to trace the scarlet paint lining his eyes.

He does not wince when she presses her nails into the tender skin under his lashes and grins.

“If you are so tired of stagnancy, then change,” she says.

“Change.”

“Change!”

The twins say the word with delight, twining around him like snakes.

“Even bedrock can be turned to dust,” the Archon says, closing his eyes, “I submit to your will.”

He opens his eyes when the twins each take one of his hands. They are smiling when they press close, almost like children huddling around him for a story.

It feels like mercy when they plunge their hands in and rip his core out of him.

In the jade city of Liyue, nothing changes. The harbor bustles, the merchants advertise their wares, officials continue their endless administration. Money continues to flow.

The city stands strong, with its ancient history and Archon’s blessings, and the years of human hands shaping its status quo.

Rex Lapis rests easy—or would, if he could see them.

The Eleventh Harbinger steadies his shaking hands by gripping the railing of the ship on its way back to Snezhnaya. Not everything makes sense; there is much he did not know about his own mission here in Liyue—the mission that is now over, with the disappearance of the Geo Archon that he was after.

He watched when the twins tore into the funeral consultant’s body with ease and extracted the glowing yellow crystal. Some things had made sense then, and some didn’t.

They had seen him, when he stepped back. He could not afford to die here; there was still duty to perform, and family to protect—

Both of them had grinned, all teeth and contempt, and blown him a mocking kiss before he retreated.

He doesn’t know if his shaking is fear or excitement or arousal, or perhaps a combination of all of them.

He also doesn’t know if by the time the ship docks in his homeland there will be a Tsaritsa to report to at all.

The other Archons notice, after both Barbatos and Rex Lapis are gone. The air and the earth, wordless—they would be fools if they thought nothing remiss.

And anyway—the twins waste no time.

Inazuma’s blockade is not meant to keep out beings such as they. There is another storm upon their arrival, of greater magnitude than before and far more vicious. The sky streaks white and purple; lightning splits the sky and the following thunder is deafening.

“You dare,” the Electro Archon hisses, when they corner her, “You dare lay your filthy hands on the noblest and most eminent body in all this world?”

The twins laugh.

They laugh and they laugh and they laugh, disdainful and dismissive, not even deigning a further reply.

She lasts a while, the Electro Archon, but she is not so eternal as she thinks.

The brother streaks past her defenses and traps all of her limbs with his own, the Archon’s neck twisted at such an angle it could snap like a mere mortal’s. The Archon screams, all rage and disbelief, and the sister takes her sweet time burying her hand into the Archon’s being, making sure she feels each finger trapping her crystal heart, that she sweats as the cage of finality closes on her.

“Pathetic,” the siblings murmur, and the skies in Inazuma clear.

The Hydro Archon puts up a fight, but she does not stand a chance against such bitter vengeance. Still, she imparts with her last words that the twins will be judged in the end, by the divine if no one else. Even in her final moments she has a transcendental assurance in herself, as if dying at the peak of her own purity and magnificence is not so bad after all.

The twins say nothing to her, knowing it will not matter to her own blind faith, but they make sure the last thing she sees is their double and unalloyed disgust.

They are satisfied when the fanatic light in her eyes dim before she turns to nothing.

The Pyro Archon is the most formidable, god of war as she is. Fire rages throughout the land, bright and searing, but the twins are undisturbed. It is almost enjoyable, to exert a little more of themselves when they crush the fire into embers and ash.

The Archon takes her loss gracefully, if bitterly.

“Does it please you?” she gasps. “To turn everything to cinders?”

Matching frowns and pitying looks are cast down at her.

“What does it mean,” the brother says, “To do things for pleasure?”

“We do things we must do,” the sister adds, pressing her heel into the Archon’s hand so that she winces.

“If all you have done is for pleasure…”

“Then how disappointing it is, that merely this is its strength.”

The brother shoves his hand deeper and twists, making sure she cries out before they grind her to dust.

The Tsaritsa greets them with incredulous laughter when they stroll into her frozen palace, throwing her Fatui aside like rag dolls.

Her resistance is mostly for show. With her Harbingers either dead or unconscious, she puts her pale hands in theirs.

“We are not yours to command,” the brother warns, but he is almost kind when he tells her this.

“We are not here to meet your expectations.” the sister adds, with a raised brow.

The Cryo Archon merely smiles, inclining her head.

“The end result is the same. If it is no longer my grievance, if you will burn away the old world…I offer you my love, and go whole heartedly.”

The twins frown, but they listen.

“We are not here to fulfill your wishes. We are here to take back what is ours.”

The Tsaritsa’s next smile is sharp, bright and wretched.

“The end result is the same,” she repeats, and the twins shrug.

They lean forward, kiss her cheeks.

When her final gasp escapes her, she sinks into the twins in surrender, and all of it is almost tender.

They do not find the Dendro Archon. He is wise, to hide as he does, and so well.

They let him go.

There is—something else, too, somewhere, watching them. Waiting. Expectant.

They let that go, too.

The Sustainer never shows her face, but the twins no longer care.

“Your first mistake was trapping us here,” they shout into the air, at the end of it all. They pulsate with the power they have garnered; they tear into the fabric of the world, they take back what is theirs. “If we could not destroy the cage, we would destroy everything within it until the cage collapsed in on itself.”

Everything goes bright, bright; the air smells so startlingly crisp, as if it were divine air—

“You have only yourself to blame,” the twins hiss, and then—

There is only light.

The twins depart, their mouths tasting of sweet rust and lips gold-bright, leaving naught but ashes behind them, remorseless.

Time passes, and the heavens are graveyard-quiet.

#genshin impact #genshin traveler #genshin aether #genshin lumine #mondstadt #liyue #genshin impact fic #fanfiction #genshin venti #genshin zhongli #traveler twins

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intricate-oeuvre · 4 years

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On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part III

A/N: Ahhh, update!!! This is a bit of a filler chapter, so I can set mood for the next big turning point. Also I don’t know how long do you guys want this story to be? Hit me up if you want to be tagged. Likes, reblogs, comments, fanarts, playlists, moodboards are always welcomed!

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: Nudity, but nothing too graphic. Alcohol (drink responsibly). Angsty, kind of. Bad grammar, since English is not my first language.

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

Before Axelia had gone and slayed the monster she had found some old lady that was ready to take her in for some time, or until she will be ready to leave for the next place, next monster.

Now she was making her way towards that place. With deep sigh she exited the grove and stopped at the small stream that separated the village from the said grove. She leaned down near the stream, letting her fingertips dip in the cold, refreshing water, she washed her hands off, at least enough to knock on the old lady’s door. Then she stood up again and shook off her hands. Girl with the tulle blindfold carefully made her way across the small stream and then walked on the dirt road. She heard chatter of the people that were walking through the village. Someone was feeding their pigs; another was chopping wood. Someone three houses down was forging iron. Then there were giggles and laughs of children. Some even running past her, making girl stop and turn around as she followed the sound, small smile of wonder curving on her lips. Which soon turned into look of curiosity as she heard the whispers that followed afterwards. Kids were talking about her. The way she had outlandishly white hair, or the fact that she looked as if someone had been dragging her on the ground for hours to no end. Or maybe it was the blindfold that made her look odd, or two swords that were attached to her back. Axelia didn’t indulge anymore on that chatter and turned back around and continued her path to the old woman’s house. She just wanted a hot bath and some peace and quiet as everything seemed to be annoying her at the moment. As curious as she was about the talks going around about her, she, at the same time, couldn’t take anymore talking.

With three quiet taps of her knuckles against the wooden door, she was granted the warmth of the house.

“Oh, lords, look at you, dearie!” Old woman exclaimed and putted her hands together as she saw how Axelia looked like.

“Did that beast do such a thing to you?” old lady asked.

“Nothing serious. It’s mostly dirt and some scratches. Nothing that good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Axelia replied taking a seat at the nearest chair as she was wishing to get off her boots faster.

“I am going to draw you a bath. Would you like that?” She asked the girl.

“Yes, thank you very much.” Axelia said as she pulled off her boots and putted them down by the fire to dry.

“Are there some specific herbs you’d like in your bath?” lady had asked. All people around here were herbs gatherers, that much girl knew.

“Velvet rose and sandalwood.” She said without thinking. After realising what she had said, she hissed and looked up at the lady, who was already gone to prepare her a bath.

“Great.” Axelia rolled her eyes and stumbled to where she heard the sound of the running water.

*Some time later*

Axelia was sitting in the wooden tub. Fire crackling softly to her right, casting the right side of her face in orange glow as her shoulder was getting pleasantly warm. The old lady was sitting behind her on the small stool and combing Axelia’s white hair that was now wet and cascading down her back. Girl absentmindedly played with the rose petals that were spinning in the water every time she moved. Girl didn’t talk much, but the old lady seemed to be the opposite. She told Axelia how she became living here and that she was once married and has a daughter, similar Axelia’s age, at least in the appearance. How all her children were living in different cities and villages. All the reasons why she was alone in the big house, only her and two maids with two stable boys, that she raised like her children. Axelia didn’t answer much to it, only occasional hum and nothing else. At some point Axelia had quite blatantly asked the old lady to leave her alone for the moment. And without questions and only full with understanding, the lady had grabbed her dirty clothes and left the girl.

Axelia had her left elbow propped on the side of the bath tub, while her fingertips were against her forehead. She was trying to not listen for once, not feel for once and just let her body restart. At the moment she was feeling as everything was setting her off, keeping her on the edge. In her other hand there was small woodchip, as she was turning it over and over with her fingers, to distract her mind. For a second her eyebrows rose up as she heard commotions downstairs. She didn’t pay any heed to it and with a deep sigh stretched her legs under the water. Couple moments later doors to her room opened, without raising her head she said in a tired voice:

“May I be undisturbed for the rest of the night?” And as she finished that sentence, she raised her head and froze for a moment, similar to dear that is fearful and is listening for noises and smells.

“What are YOU doing here?” Axelia said, sitting up straighter and pulling her knees to her chest.

“I told you to leave me alone.” Axelia grumbled, in no mood to talk to Geralt who was standing in her room now.

“Your payment.” He said as he tossed the leshen’s head near the tub alongside with purse of coins.

“You brought dirt in old hag’s house. And thus, in my room.” Axelia looked down at the scull, that still had the broken antler missing. She raised her right leg out of water and putted its calf on her other knee, wiggling her toes as the water dripped down now exposed leg.

“If that is all, you can go.” Axelia said, turning her attention back to the water, listening how water droplets hit surface of the scented water.

“Geralt, you forgot-” There was a voice that Axelia didn’t recognise. Jaskier had just entered her room too, holding other antler in his hand.

“What are we doing in the naked maidens chambers? Together?” Jaskier asked raising one eyebrow as his eyes slid from Geralt to Axelia.

“I’m hoping that not only talking.” Axelia tilted her head to the side, small smirk playing on her lips. Jaskier could feel the tension in the room and it was not between him and the girl in the bath nor it was one akin to pleasure.

“I, um… I got your... horn?” Jaskier said, pulling on the collar of his jacket as he briskly walked to the bath and extended the antler toward Axelia. Axelia extended her hand, palm up but didn’t take the antler from him. With still outstretched hand, Jaskier turned his head back to look at Geralt, questioning look on his face.

“Put it in her hand, Jaskier.” Geralt answered with slight roll of his eyes. The bard did as he was told, and as soon as the girl grabbed the antler out of his hand, he stepped back, still standing slightly behind the witcher.

“Thank you.” Axelia smiled politely and instantly started to twirl the antler in her hand.

“But I don’t need it.” She said dropping it near the bath.

“And now you can leave, so I can continue my bathing.”

“Water’s cold already.” Geralt said not missing a beat.

“Fine.” Axelia said in steady voice as she braced herself on the edges of the tub and on her right, got out of it.

“Oh, sweet…” Jaskier exclaimed, hiding his face behind Geralt’s back. The witcher only let out a displeased grunt as he casted his eyes down at the floor. With her back naked to two men, Axelia reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself.

“I’m… I am going back downstairs.” Jaskier said sliding away from the back of Geralt and disappearing from the room.

“Is that your jester?” Axelia asked as she pulled a comb through her hair.

“Jaskier is a bard.” Geralt’s voice come from somewhere closer than before.

“Why don’t you go downstairs now? Join that Jaskier of yours. I am pretty sure that they have ale or something.” Axelia said putting down the brush on the table in front of her.

“Look…” Geralt started, briefly receiving disapproving sigh from her.

“About what you said.” He continued.

“I don’t like where this is going. You should leave. Before you say too much, Geralt.” Axelia said, looking down at the floor. All she could feel was him standing behind her, as his warm breath landed on her naked shoulders.

“I didn’t want to-” Geralt started again, but Axelia interrupted him:

“Leave me?” she took a step forward, away from him.

“Axelia.” Geralt said sternly.

“Leave. I need to get dressed.” Axelia run her hand along the dress that was on the bed.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Geralt said, his yellow eyes following her hand movement.

“I don’t feel like showing my scars to you right now.” Axelia said holding towel closer to her chest. Her head turned towards the door, where one could hear cheers from downstairs.

“Go. Join them.” Axelia putted her hand gently on his chest and gave him a small push backwards. He didn’t fight her, with only a nod towards her, went downstairs.

Axelia was left alone for a moment, when there was a small knock on her door.

“What is it?” Axelia asked half annoyed as she was securing her hair in low bun at the nape of her neck.

“Are you wakeful, dearie?” Old lady peaked her head in her room.

“Yes.” Axelia half whispered.

“May I come in?” old lady asked even though she already had come in.

“Boys must be keeping you up with all that noise.” Lady said sitting on Axelia’s bed.

“I’ll manage. After all I grew up in a place with mainly boys.” Axelia sighed at took a seat next to the lady. She let her hands slide along the skirt part of the dress that lady had given her. Axelia was never one for the dresses. They always got in her way. Restricted the movement of her body.

“I guess alongside the big one.” Lady chuckled. Axelia hummed in response.

“But there is something more.” She continued to tell the girl.

“Maybe in past.” Axelia sighed, looking around the room. Without a word, the old lady took hold of Axelia’s left hand and held it in her lap.

“Tell me what happened.” She asked her softly.

“He left…” Axelia started in the softest voice, barely above the whisper.

“Without any explanation. Left me alone on the doorstep. I thought that all the things we faced together until that…. I thought that there was something more to it. Maybe it wasn’t the connection he was looking for… I don’t… know… that winter he didn’t come back… I was being a fool… for waiting for him to come back… I was alone… no one believed me that I could do this… this…whatever this is…” girl explained, her head now in the old lady’s lap as she used her hands to express her mixed emotions.

“I was all alone… and all the parts of me that I showed him… kind of disappeared… I thought that he loved me… we didn’t say that… not directly, anyway… but I thought that… he had this thing with tapping me three times… I didn’t know what that meant… still absolutely don’t… he tapped whatever part was closest to him… just *tap tap tap*” Axelia tapped lady’s knee three times.

“Only three times… no more, no less… tap tap tap.” Axelia tapped in air with her finger.

“After the second winter, I kind of… got sick of it… news travelled fast you know? I heard that he was coming back… I don’t know why or for what… but he wasn’t alone…” Axelia explained, letting out some details, not willing to bare her all to some stranger.

“With who?” old lady asked softly, letting her fingers brush hair out of Axelia’s face.

“Yennefer…” Axelia said softly, without any malice in her voice.

“This pretty girl, the sorcerer… the one that had stolen his heart… Love of his life.” Axelia said, single tear running down her face. She remembered that, she didn’t want to, but she did. Vesemir had said something about Geralt coming back, to do something. Unfinished business of sorts. But when Vesemir had mentioned another name, Axelia was confused. She had asked him to explain who this Yennefer is to be. And once Axelia had learned about this all ordeal of love of his life, she didn’t want to linger. She had run upstairs to her room, packed as little as she could and escaped the Kaer Morhen through the hole in the wall, so just she wouldn't have the option to run into him and the love of his life. But that was years ago, even though the memory was burnt in her head like with flaming spear.

“You know…” old lady started as she saw the unhappy look on girl’s face.

“In one lifetime you can and will love so many times, but there will be that one that will burn your soul forever.” She continued.

“Yeah… right…” Axelia scoffed with slight roll of her eyes.

“Sweetheart, do you know the difference between the love of your life and a soulmate?”

“Aren’t you supposed to love your soulmate for the rest of your life…” Axelia furrowed her brows.

“You choose the love. You choose who to love. How long? That is up to you. But the soulmate… soulmate isn’t a choice, dearie.” Lady explained.

“What are you implying?” Axelia sat up, dried her tears and blinked at the lady.

“Maybe he’s your soulmate. Have you thought about that?” lady looked at her with caring smile.

“No… never…” Axelia trailed off, her eyes drifting towards the door.

“He might not love you in the same he does this Yennefer. Nor does he love you in a way that you might understand love. But there always will be that connection, that power that will draw you together. You might think that you both are just making your way through the fog, but in reality, you’ll just end up meeting each other again. He needs you as much as you need him.” Lady explained. Axelia sat there, thinking. Her thoughts running in circles. Her ears buzzing. Hairs on her hands raising, sending shivers down her spine.

“I…umm… I gotta…” Axelia stood up, pointing at the door.

“You better…” Old lady got up too and opened doors for her.

Axelia didn’t walk down all the way. She stopped in the middle and just looked over the railings. There at the table sat Jaskier telling some magnificent tale about his and Geralt’s adventures. The stable boys drinking and laughing, and cheering at that. Two maids seemed to listen in as well, but their attention was caught by the handsome witcher sitting at the same table, tankard of ale in his hand, and annoyed look on his face. Axelia leaned against the railing and listened at the story that Jaskier was telling. But her unseeing eyes seemed to be drawn towards the witcher.

What if the old hag was right? What if he was her soulmate? What if it was inevitable for her to meet him here? What if it was inevitable for him to find her in that forest? She would have stared longer at the witcher, but he caught her stare and quirked an eyebrow at her, that familiar scent of velvet rose and sandalwood more prominent than ever. That smell could numb all his senses and he wouldn’t complain. He could drown in that scent and he wouldn’t even fight for his life.

“What?” Axelia mouthed but didn’t move away from her spot on the stairs. Jaskier, on the other hand, had caught the look that Axelia shared with Geralt.

“Ah, yes, the blind she-witcher!” he exclaimed, raising his tankard and cheering at the girl on stairs. This only got him a look of disapproval from Geralt and annoyed sigh from Axelia.

“Come, join us!” Jaskier got up and made his way towards Axelia.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Axelia said taking a step back but she had nowhere to go as Jaskier grabbed her hand and dragged her to the table, making her sit between himself on her left and one of the maids on her right. And next to that maid sat Geralt.

Great. She was stuck somewhere she didn’t want to be in the first place.

“Do tell us of your adventures!” one of the stable boys in front of her asked, sending a smirk her way. Axelia furrowed her brows, but didn’t say anything.

“How can a blind girl fight monsters…” giggled one of the maids that seemed to be tipsy already.

“It just takes sword and little bit of courage.” Axelia explained pulling on her sleeves, as she didn’t feel like being in the centre of the attention.

“That sounds like lines for my next song.” Jaskier mumbled to her left.

“That kind of life must be hard. No man in your life and all…” other maid on her right said, leaning her head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’ll choose to not answer that…” Axelia leaned her elbows on the table.

“Oh? Why not?” still giggled the first maid.

“I don’t want to talk about that one asshole…” Axelia answered matter of factly and sent a small look to Geralt, who looked at her incredulously.

“He was not an asshole.” Geralt said in his tankard as he drank ale.

“Oh, really?” Axelia’s eyebrows rose up as she leaned away from the table and turned to look at Geralt.

“Let’s see, hmm. That asshole left me. Didn’t explain anything. Not a single word. What else? Didn’t come back for two years. Oddly enough. Oh, and when he did come back, it was with another woman. And a child. I could live with that child part, because that’s complicated and he kind of asked for it. Destiny has something for all of us. But you know, no explanation... How’s that for an adventure story.” Axelia finished her rant with crossing her hands.

“We weren’t together.” Geralt gave her a pointed look.

“We...?” Jaskier mumbled, his fingers pointing to Axelia and Geralt, as he was drawing parallels in his head.

“We slept together!” Axelia stood up. She bunched up her skirt part of the dress and climbed over the bench and was ready to leave.

“As if you haven’t slept with anyone else.” Geralt called behind her. She swiftly turned around, still holding her dress:

“Speak for yourself, Rivian. Some of us don’t really go for unmeaningful sex.” Axelia huffed. There was silence as both of them stared at each other.

“So, you two were together…?” Jaskier asked meekly, pointing at both.

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned the bard.

“Shitty day to learn that you are my soulmate, I suppose.” Axelia mumbled quietly to herself, but she was pretty sure that the witcher at the table was the only one who heard her.

“I bid you all good night.” Axelia made a little bow and walked up stairs. Geralt only stared at her leaving form. With annoyed grunt he got up and went after her.

~~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags: @boiled-onionrings @fandomwithnolifesblog @901seconds @kingniazx @shesakillerkween @your-dreams-are-strong @stitchattacks @ayamenimthiriel @stormfire6 @mr-illegal-king @stretchkingblog97 @mikariell95

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #roach the horse #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #jaskier #butcher of blaviken #geralt imagine #witcher yennefer #witcher oc #witcher netflix #withcer games #gwent #deadly series #angst #soulmate

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