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kaethrine-whatever · 7 months

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Маааам ну не расстраивайся ты так!

Чтобы тебя утешить, дарю тебе этот скромный презент 💋

Мало кто может похвастаться тем, что про его персонажей пишут фанфики, а вот ты теперь можешь ♥️

Наслаждайся!

🌞🖤☀️

Одного взгляда на нее хватило, чтобы на моем хрупком сердце появилась первая трещина. Сколько еще невзгод предстоит вынести моей святой, непорочной душе? За что мне все это?!

Я выбежала из залы, не чувствуя каменный пол дворца. Я бежала и не чувствовала тяжесть своего платья. Бежала и не чувствовала абсолютно ничего. Еще чуть-чуть и я бы ступила на пойму Яруги, чуть-чуть и подо мной бы разверзнулась твердь. Александэр предупреждал, что это может случиться… Надо было прислушиваться к советам моего маленького ангела…

Я навсегда запомню этот насмешливый, нахальный взгляд изумрудного ока. Взгляд, который превратил меня в Дюймовочку, дрожащую перед Облачной Великаншей. (Где же бобовый стебель, который может унести меня?). А придворные… Взгляды их озаряли лишь ее, слышать они могли лишь ее. Вся эта кучка разодетых и напыщенных лизоблюдов, словно они чертовы блаженные ангелы, спустившиеся с небес, чтобы в каждом своем движении излучать грацию и манеры, чтобы в каждом своем выражении лица и в высокопарной фразе быть словно ведущие актеры театра мадам Ирэн Ренар.

Я старалась не смотреть в тот медвежий угол, куда падала ее тень, потому что знала, что встречу взглядом эту физиономию, не хочу даже думать, какое выражение лица было у нее. Эта назойливая мерзкая морда, изуродованная громадным шрамом. Она нам не ровня, не ровня! За годы, проведенные с мутантами, ее должны навсегда лишить возможности быть приближенной к дворцовым будням. Ох, это лицо, эти грязно-серые волосы, эта жестокость в ее взгляде. Я чувствую, какая она мерзкая, испорченная, надменная и грубая. Она тварь! Воровка!

Вступив в свои покои, я первым делом направила взор на стену из красных кирпичей - как же она мне была ненавистна в этот момент, потому напоминала мне цвет ее алых губ… Меня накрыл поток эмоций, я дрожала каждым своим мускулом. Стоя в центре комнаты, я прокручивала в голове этот прием, раз за разом: эти лица, эти взгляды, как же я ненавидела все в этот момент. Как же мне хотелось вышвырнуть стул из окна моих покоев, как же мне хотелось поцарапать лицо служанки, которая слишком затянула мой корсет, как же мне хотелось ударить Лукрецио, за то, что каждый раз я переношусь в свое детство и словно огромная волна Великого моря меня окутывает чувство стыда и унижения.

Кто-то постучал в дверь. Нет, только не сейчас. Кто же это может быть? Только не она! Да сойдется с ее прелестной шеей легендарный Арондит, если она решила проведать меня. Я проклинаю ее самодовольное и нахальное лицо, проклинаю ее уверенность, с которой она вступает в диалог с императорской знатью, проклинаю все ее существование. Если она посмела явиться сейчас ко мне, то я втяну ее в свои покои за грязные пепельные космы. Я разорву ее черно-золотое платье, которое императорский мастер по нарядам должен был предложить мне. МНЕ, а не ей!

Все это - МОЕ, ПОТОМУ ЧТО Я - КАЭТРИН ЛЮСИЯ АЭП WHATEVER, КОРОЛЕВА КОРОЛЕЙ И БОГИНЯ БОГОВ!

#witcher #the Witcher #fanfiction #fanfic #witcher fanfiction #oc #Witcher oc #oc x ciri #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #empress ciri #empress cirilla #queen cirilla #princess cirilla #nilfgaard #ONE AND ONLY EMPRESS OF NILFGAARD

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eddysocs · 7 months

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Honorbound (Cirilla Of Cintra x OC)

Summary: Nilenna loses her cool with Ciri and must mend fences if she’s to perform her duty.

Word Count: 259

Warnings: Angst

Gif made by @valiantwerewolfluminary

"Do you think I want this job? Do you think I asked for it? Leading some poor little princess around is hardly my idea of a good time. It’s my duty and it’s how I survive." The words were flung with such venom and rage that spittle fell from Nilenna's mouth as she spoke them.

"I—" Ciri began, already fighting to suppress the crack in her voice that she could feel was coming. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked down at the dirt where she stood, "didn’t know you felt that way. I’m sorry for being such a burden to you."

The genuine hurt in Ciri's eyes wounded Nilenna in return, and she stepped backward, no longer able to meet Ciri's green eyed gaze. She’d been too harsh. Had she truly even meant all she said? Perhaps it had been true in part, but a burden was something Ciri simply was not.

Nilenna came to rest on the other side of their shared quarters for the night, keeping her distance. Ciri could run off in the night after what she’d just heard. Hell, Nilenna wouldn’t even blame her. But she couldn’t let that happen.

"You’re not a burden, Cirilla." All the hardness in her tone was gone, replaced by her sorrowful admission as it permeated the tense air between them. She needed Ciri to trust her, to feel safe with her while she got her to where she needed to be. Fuck her feelings, ill or otherwise. She had a duty, and she would fulfill it.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @bossyladies, @getawaycardotmp3, @misshiraethsworld, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs

Nilenna Of Verden: @anniesocsandgeneralstore

#angstober2023 #day one #oc: nilenna of verden #fc: ella rae smith #fd: the witcher #nilenna x ciri #ciri x oc #cirilla x oc #the witcher

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icefrye19 · 2 months

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Dancing Of Flames (Emhyr x Oc, Cahir x Ciri)

Prologue II

In the main hall, the Royal family was dining with the Northern houses, loud chatter spread throughout the room. Valerievna was sitting down next to Cirilla; her grandparents sat on the opposite side of them.

People were dancing on the floor with one another, loud cheers and laughter ranged out. Valerievna lifted her goblet to her mouth, taking a sip of her wine, while watching the people interact.

" I saw the Wraiths of Morhogg over the channel this

morning." Her grandfather said.

Valerievna and Cirilla gazed at one another lost at what he was talking about.

" Yes, you mentioned." Calanthe said.

" Who?" Cirilla inquired.

" They're talking about the Wild Hunt." The young Dragon answered. " They're a group of elves that are like undead but not really alive, they're one of the most elite fighting groups in the Continent."

" I see someone has been doing this research." Mousesack said, proudly.

" Wait, so basically these soldiers they're like monsters." The young Lion Cub questioned.

" No one knows." She answered. " But legends says they are ghosts of death."

" Really." Cirilla whispered.

Valerievna nodded. " Yes, some says they have the body of a human, but the spirit of death washes over them."

" No good will come of it." Eist warned. " They're an omen of War."

" The North has been at war since Nifgaard took Ebbing." Calanthe said.

" If the legend is true, the Wild Hunt's years behind the curve." She added."

" The Nifgaardian force crossed the Amell Pass." Eist said.

The Queen grinned. " Headed to Sodden, if they're smart. And if not, 50 of your Skellige ships are on the way."

" We have more knights... We are prepared in case..." before Calanthe could finish her sentence, she was cut off by Valerievna and Cirilla.

" Prepared for what?" Cirilla asked.

Valerievna gazed at her grandmother deeply, seeing the stone look on her face. " Are we at war with Nifgaard?" She asked.

" Of course not, Princess." Moussemack lied.

" Nothing for you to be concerned about." Calanthe answered.

" Your dismissive tone says it is." Cirilla commented.

Valerievna scoffed. " If there's nothing to be concerned about then why did you send for Skellige ships?"

Calanthe signed. " As I've said there is nothing for you two to worry about, please do not start."

Eist shook his head. " We're talking of war, girls."

" With Nilfgaard?" The young Lion Cub exclaimed.

" Why?" The young Dragon inquired. " What do they want?"

Calanthe turned to her husband, glaring at him coldly. " Eist!

" Should we fall to Niffgaerd, your granddaughters will rule Cintea and Dragonyra one day."

" My Uncle is the ruler of Dragonrya, he turned the people against my father. I doubt they will accept me back." Valerievna mumbled.

" They haven't turned against you, sweet girl." Eist said. "They have however turned against your Uncle, riots have sprawled out on the streets."

Valerievna's eyes widened in surprise. " Where did you hear this from?"

" There are many whispers going around about your Uncle, he is slowly becoming unstable and mad."Mousesack said.

" That is not a surprise, that man has always been unstable." The Queen mumbled.

" Most of the Lords and Mages have started to turn against him; they wish for their rightful Empress back." The mage added.

" This is great, Valerievna actually has a chance at gaining her kingdom back." Cirilla said, placing a hand on her cousin's back.

However, Valerievna still wasn't convinced she had what it took to be Empress. She wasn't good at public speaking, let alone politics. It had been years since she had been home, the people had probably long forgotten about her.

She wasn't meant to rule, her stillborn little brother should've been King. The Draconian Lords would never except for a woman on the Draconian Throne, her Aunt was an example of that when her grandfather had declined her succession claim despite being the eldest of his children.

Eist nodded. " Yes, all she needs is the armies to back her up."

" Luckily, your aunt Visenya has one." He added.

" My Aunt Visenya lives." Valerievna said, tears beginning to well in her eyes. " And, she's safe."

" Yes, Princess, she is safe in Aretuza." The dune answered.

" Yes, hiding out like a coward." Calanthe scoffed.

Valerievna turned to her grandmother, not liking how she was referring to her aunt like that . " She's not a coward."

The Lioness chuckled. " She is my sweet girl." She has a dragon, a powerful army and a navy, she could travel to Cintra and help you take back Dragonyra, but she would rather help those mages instead of her own niece."

" So, why does Nifaagard want Cintra anyway?" She asked, changing the subject.

" I don't know." Eist lied. " Ask your grandmother."

" Eist, that is enough small talk." Calanthe hissed.

" They need to understand the way of things in case we do fall."

" We will not fall because we are not attacked." The Lioness said. " For god sakes, they're children."

" You won your first battle when you were our age." Cirilla pointed out.

" I've heard the ballads." She added.

" Pretty ballads hide bastard truths." The King mumbled.

" It's a catchy song." The young Lion Cub commented.

" Three thousand of my name died." Calanthe said, turning to her granddaughters. " If we must do this now, here are your girl's first lesson."

" As in life, it is impossible to always be fully prepared for battle. Keep your sword close and keep moving." She added.

The song came to an end, a Northern Lord and his two sons came towards them, bowing in respect.

" Your Majesties." The Northern Lord spoke up. " Thank you for allowing our company to do this splendid affair."

The young boys greeted the King and Queen with a bow. " Your Majesties." They said, before turning their gaze over to the Princess's

" Would you honor us with his dance?" They asked.

Valerievna and Cirilla gazed at one another, before turning back to the boys. " Um, Martin...... Asmund we really." They were about to say, until their grandmother cut them off.

" They loved to ." Calanthe said, with a smile.

She turned to her granddaughter glancing at them with a pointed look not to be rude.

Knowing their grandmother was serious, Valerievna and Cirilla got up from their seats making their way on the floor with the boys, and started to dance with them.

Once the dance started, Asmund took the lead holding his hand at her waist gently leading her through it. The two started to dance slowly with one another, Asmund spun her around catching her in his arms.

" You look beautiful tonight, Princess." Asmund complimented.

" Thank you, you look very handsome yourself." Valerievna responded.

" You're nearly a woman of age." He said.

She nodded. " Yes, as I have been told."

" Many Lords desire to have your hand in marriage Asmund said, twirling her around.

Valerievna felt her heart stop for a moment, but keep her smile plastered on her face. " Like who, my Lord."

" Like me." He said. " I mean if you and I were to be bonded together we would build the most powerful alliance between our two houses."

" And your dragons would be most welcomed." He added. " I know you are kind of desperate to get your kingdom back, I can help you."

Valerievna almost wanted to scoff at the boy's words, how dare he presume to think she was a beggar Princess. " Desperate, you think I am so begged on the street." She hissed.

" No ... of course not I... I wasn't- didn't mean any harm Princess." The boy rambled out.

" Let's get something straight Lord Asumund, I am not some brooding mare for any man to use about." She whispered. " I am Valerievna Adalia Visenya Malfyre of House Malfyre, Blood of the Dragon and I will take back what is mine with Fire and Strength, I will take it." She hissed. " And, I need neither you nor any man to help me take my kingdom."

She pulled away from him. " Thank you for this dance, Lord Asmund, I think it's time I retire for the night."

With that, Valerievna walked out to the hall leaving Lord Asmuel stunned. She made her way outside and stepped in the moonlit corridors. Her mind began to race back to her kingdom, her home she longed to reclaim. Would they accept her back, what if they hated her.

Was it worth it thousands dying all due to her wants? It was selfish, a good ruler always put their people first, she couldn't risk anyone else dying because of her.

Maybe not now, but one day she will return to Dragonyra and when she does she will reign hell fire on her Uncle.The path she seeked was uncleared for Destiny would intervened in her plans, and the young Dragon would do anything to escape it; but only find no matter how far she ran it would catch up to her eventually.

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

#the witcher #oringinal character #witcher oc #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #cahir x ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #calanthe of cintra #mouesack #cintra #nifaggard #thewhiteflame #emhyr var emreis #the witcher emhyr var emreis

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fantasyoutfits · 2 years

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What I would wear if I were a mage in The Witcher..

(I do not own these images)

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cas-kingdom · 3 years

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Name Game

A/N: In an attempt to tick off some boxes in the ‘fic ideas’ department, I wrote this little thing. Set after the last episode. I also used Akela’s version instead of reader due to the need for her & Ciri to have similar features.

Based on a suggestion by an anon (which I unfortunately can’t find) so thank you!

Title: Name Game

Summary: Geralt accidentally calls Ciri something he shouldn’t have.

Words: 1388

Geralt was quite surprised at the fact they’d made it almost twenty-four hours without any major incident befalling him or the girls. Sure, they hadn’t said a single word to each other, and he’d caught Akela sending curious glances Ciri’s way more than once, but at least she hadn’t tried to bury her outside while he wasn’t looking.

As for the princess, she was quiet for reasons beside the obvious ones. Perhaps she could sense Akela’s energy. He certainly could. He doubted the old couple whose farm they were still staying at were immune to the coldness radiating from her either. If anyone were to tell him a few weeks ago that she would be this bad, he wouldn’t have believed them.

He and Akela had set up their beds outside, close to the edge of the woods, a pitiful attempt on his part to show her their life would still be as it had been before Ciri. Ciri slept inside, likely on a warm bed, and he’d wondered a couple times how she’d fare outside. She’d had to get used to sleeping and living in the wild for at least the past week since Cintra’s fall. Hopefully she didn’t think that was going to change and they’d be resting at inns for the rest of their lives.

Rest of their lives. That sounded way too ominous.

They ate dinner together, though. That was the least they could do to repay the old man and his wife. If it was just him and Akela, they’d have been out and on the road the moment he felt any type of ‘better’ again, but the princess had been through a lot, and he figured some rest was deserved before she left the comfort of four walls and a roof. She seemed to like the old man’s wife. Maybe she reminded her of someone from Cintra. He wouldn’t know. He found himself thinking about her a lot, wondering if he should ask her questions, but no words ever seemed to move further than his lips.

“Tell us, Mr. Witcher.” Geralt lifted his eyes from his bowl of soup to look at the old man. “Are the stories true? You found your daughter in the woods?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little. Damn stories. Damn bard. “Yes,” he said, “in a basket.” He glanced at Akela, sat by the fire, her empty bowl beside her.

The woman’s eyes lit up. “And you decided to keep her?”

“Not at first.”

“What changed?”

Geralt, unsurprisingly, wasn’t one for conversations like this, and he would have said exactly that had he not seen the intrigued look on Ciri’s face. Humming, he absently twirled his spoon in the soup. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Suppose the idea of a little maid appealed to me.” They both laughed and Ciri smiled. He looked to Akela, hoping she’d be the same. She hadn’t changed position. He leant over and picked up her bowl, putting it under his.

“I’ll wash these,” he said monotonously as he stood to his feet, ignoring the thanks as he took the other bowls. He let his shoulders slacken once he’d moved to another room, dropping the bowls into a basin of water. The sooner they could get out of here, the better. The old couple were kind, yes, whatever that meant, but seemingly unable to fully process that he was a witcher, and witchers didn’t stick around for conversations around a fire and a warm bowl of soup. And they definitely didn’t wash up after people, either. He’d simply felt the need to find a moment’s peace for himself. Akela was probably cursing him for leaving her alone in there.

He spent a minute in silence, staring at the water. His whole body still felt weak, and his leg aches. He needed to get back below the forest trees.

Sucking in a deep breath, he flexed his fingers and turned to walk back into the main room. Akela was standing by the fire. “Akela,” he said, “let’s head out for the night.”

The moment the blonde turned around, regret hit him like a sack of rocks.

He noticed Akela just walking in from outside. She stopped and stared straight at him.

He gritted his teeth. Ciri, who stood by the fire, stared at him in confusion.

There was a moment’s silence that felt like an absolute age. Even the elderly couple seemed to be frozen.

“That’s Ciri,” Akela said finally, unamused and clearly hurt. She looked at Ciri, who was wringing her hands now, walking tentatively back to sit beside the woman. Wisely, she seemed to have decided on the title of innocent bystander. He wished he could do the same.

He heaved a sigh and threw his hands up in surrender. “So, strike me down.” He turned to the couple. “Thank you for the meal.” He nodded at Ciri. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Geralt headed for the door and followed Akela out. It was completely dark now, stars dotting the midnight sky, a light breeze flitting around his face.

“Does she really look that much like me?”

“She had her back to me. You both have blonde hair. It was a mistake. Don’t be a bitch.”

“I’m not a bitch!” He was walking faster now, destination in sight, Akela hurrying after him. “She’s shorter than me, wearing completely different clothes! She looks nothing like me!”

He shut his eyes against the oncoming headache. “And I am tired, in a shit ton of pain, and fed up. All I saw was the blonde hair. We’re not doing this, Akela, not tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and he thought she’d finally complied, but apparently not.

“Are you going to call me Ciri next?”

The witcher stopped so suddenly a puff of smoke could have emanated from his heels. He turned and glared at Akela. “I said we are not doing this,” he ground out, amber eyes flashing. “Yes, I thought the princess was you, no, I did not do it on purpose. Do I care? Fucking simply, Akela, no, I don’t. We have far more things to be worried about. Get your head on straight before I regretfully cut it off.” He stormed off then, leaving the girl standing a little stunned. He felt a pounding in his chest, hands balled into fists by his sides. And then he stopped, blinked a little, and dropped his eyes to the ground. Damn, damn, damn.

He turned. Akela was still in the same position, staring dejectedly at nothing. Today seemed to be a day for regret. He’d thought the brunt of this hatred for the princess would be over after the discussions they’d had, but after each one, she seemed to spiral back to the beginning. He wondered if it would ever stick.

He walked back towards her, and she was in his arms within ten seconds. “You have to stop this,” he said quietly. “It was an accident. It meant nothing.”

Akela nodded against him. “Seems like an omen,” she whispered. She felt his hand go to the back of her head and shut her eyes, relaxing in his hold. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean to, I… I just can’t stop thinking the worst.”

“You never can.” He felt a twinge in his leg and winced, shifting uncomfortably.

Akela drew back. “Should I make you more of that medicine? The one Yennefer made for me once?”

The mention of Yennefer caused a twinge somewhere else, but he didn’t comment on it. “Alright.” She went to walk away but he grasped her arm before she could. “I didn’t mean to—”

Akela stopped him before he could continue, noticing the shame on his face that perfectly mirrored her own. “No, don’t be stupid. I was being a bitch.” She knew he was still in pain—he’d almost died the other day—and she knew he was exhausted. She hated herself for making it worse. “Though I hope you weren’t serious about cutting my head off.”

Geralt hummed. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

She smiled. “I’ll make the medicine,” she said, walking towards the camp. That was as far as they’d get on the Ciri situation today. Perhaps tomorrow. “Go and sit down… Jaskier.”

The witcher’s lips curved upwards. Touché.

Witcher Masterpost

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inmyfxith · 2 years

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The Wolf and the Griffin.

Pairing: Ciri x OC!reader / Lambert x OC!reader

OC: Nareth of Ard Carraigh

Warnings: None (I think)

A/N: Sisters' thoughts // The Sisters of Ard Carraigh / Meet Again / Friends out of interest / The End of a Myth

Words: 2 458

Feeling alone when you are surrounded is a strange and unpleasant feeling. Yet that was what Cirilla felt only a few hours after her arrival in the witchers’ den of the Wolf School, Kaer Morhen. Witchers were not necessarily nice people, especially since they were mostly men, only men in the case of Geralt’s brothers. The girl was already trying to make a place for herself in the mutant sanctuary, with difficulty. Kaer Morhen was nothing like Cintra or the other shelters the young princess had seen.

Sitting on the bed she had chosen for herself, Cirilla placed her hands on the most precious object she still had, the only material memory she had left of her kingdom, of her grandmother. As she pulled it out, Cirilla dropped a small object that rolled to the floor, breaking the silence that had filled the room. Bending down to pick it up, she realized that it was the small wooden figurine Deirdre had given her when she and Geralt had left Cedrel Manor. Taking the piece in her hands, the Lion cub of Cintra stroked the carved face of the figurine with her fingertips, insisting on the more or less deep cut that decorated the left side. With nothing else to do, she lingered on the tiny details when suddenly the figure began to vibrate in Ciri’s hands. Surprised, the figure hit the ground and continued to move, spinning around and making a shrill humming noise before it calmed down. Not wishing to see this event take place again, Cirilla slipped the small wooden statuette under her pillow before resuming her exploration of Kaer Morhen.

In the main hall, the witchers of the Wolf School had just met to spend the winter. Drinks were flowing and laughter could be heard throughout the building. But as Geralt listened to his friend Lambert’s wild stories, something caught his attention as well as the attention of all the other witchers of the room. Someone had made the great door speak, and the men expected to see one of them walking confidently towards the only thing that could warm them, but instead, a woman with black hair and amber eyes stepped forward to meet them. Some armed themselves while others just looked on. Geralt was one of them, he had recognized the face of the young woman as soon as she entered. She was one of the sisters and he would bet his life on it. Stopping in front of them, a few meters away, the young woman remained silent for a moment, scrutinizing each of the witchers in front of her carefully, especially those she felt were ready to attack her. They would not strike the first blow, however.

“The wolf and the griffin are old friends, are they not Vesemir ?” Setting her gaze on the old witcher, the young woman drew her sword from its scabbard which caused several witchers to rise around her. With a deft and controlled gesture, she twirled her sword to prove her identity before putting it away and presenting herself in better conditions.

"My people call me Nareth, and you may do the same." Vesemir approached her, handing her a drink with that wary look only he had.

"Well, if you are indeed from where I think you are, you must have something very important to tell us."

The young woman suddenly froze, rolling her eyes for a moment before snapping back to reality.

"I'm here because I was called. I was in the area, chasing a mourntart, when I received a distress call. But it was probably a false alarm." Nareth calmly explained to Vesemir while keeping a distant tone. She had felt it deep down, one of her sisters had called for help, or so she thought. But what would the women of Ard Carraigh be doing in the wolves' refuge, it didn't make sense. She then cleared her mind to hear as audibly as possible the thoughts of her sisters to see if any of them were really in danger. Deirdre was the only one to answer.

[Deirdre] - It was Cirilla.

Entering her younger sister's memories, she saw through her eyes what had happened a few weeks earlier when the wizard and the little princess were trying to escape a snowstorm. Finally, she saw the wooden figurine that Deirdre had given to the girl.

Coming to her senses, she turned to Geralt, whom she had recognized through the visions.

"Where is Cirilla?" Nareth asked. She didn't know the history of the witcher, in fact, she had no idea who it really was. Although the bond with her sisters was strong and had been since birth, Nareth had once hoped that she would never again be parasitized by the thoughts of others. She was finally alone the day the mutation process began after the painful and intense ordeal of the herbs. Only three students had managed to complete their mutation and Nareth was miraculously one of them. Placing his glass on the table, Geralt let out a deep sigh and, with his eyebrows furrowed, he stood up to face the young woman. He asked her, looking protective, what she wanted.

"She called me. So I won't say it a third time..." taking out her sword again, she clenched the pommel so hard that it turned her knuckles white. As the tension rose in the room, the young princess finally made her entrance.

The atmosphere eased a little when Nareth could see that the little girl was in no danger so, by way of apology, she put her sword and all her weapons on one of the racks in the room. She then raised her hands on either side of her head as if to clear her name.

"You can never be too careful."

A heavy silence then filled the room and, to end the unpleasant scene, Lambert filled her glass with beer.

"Kaedwenian stout, I never knew wolves’ tastes were so good."

[Deirdre] - How is the girl?..

[Cedrel] - Nareth answers her before she gives me another fit!..

[Deidre] - I knew better than to let her go alone with that strange character...

"Deirdre shut up!" There was another silence in the room as the young witch once again lost control of her thoughts. At the end of the mutation, the phenomenon had been amplified. She was now permanently connected to the thoughts of her sisters without being able to have a single moment of respite. It was as if Cedrel, Seirsa, and Deirdre were constantly behind her back. Of course, she had looked for solutions, undergone a whole bunch of experiments to revoke this very special gift but nothing had ever worked. After a long sigh, Nareth felt compelled to explain why she started talking to herself from time to time.

After the incident with Eskel, Nareth had stayed a few more days in Kaer Morhen. Sitting on one of the high walls of the ruined fortress, the young woman was sharpening her sword while the northern wind blew the few strands of hair that were not tied up in her large bun. The height wasn't scary, at least to her. When her mind was too overwhelmed with the thoughts of her sisters, Nareth punished them with the adrenaline rush of falling several feet. Since the death of one of their own, the wolves had been in a foul mood, so the young woman had already organized her departure. There was still a mourntart on the loose who was probably planning an attack on a village. However, when Nareth saw Cirilla coming out into the main courtyard she whistled to get her attention and when the girl reached her height the witcher jumped from her perch to land face to face with her.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you why you called me." Cirilla frowned.

"I didn't call you. I've never even met you before." Making a few reels with her sword, the young woman suddenly stopped her action when she heard the princess's reply.

"When you left Cedrel Manor my sister gave you a small wooden figurine that looked like her. It was through her that I got your message..." Nareth then took out of one of her inner pockets a similar figurine except that this one had no scars on its face and that between its hands was carved a sword "...We all have one." Cirilla took the figure in her hands to examine it more closely, as Nareth had just settled on a log.

"Why aren't there any others?" The little girl asked, her eyebrows still furrowed.

"Others what?"

"Other women witcher."

"There must be, you know I don't know all the witchers. Besides, there aren't really any schools left. The few remaining witchers of the Griffin school underwent their mutation in the old ruins of Kaer Seren under the eyes of our mentor, Erland of Larvik." The fortress of Kaer Seren had been destroyed by the council of mages and old Erland guarded the ruins in the image of Vesemir with those of Kaer Morhen. Moreover, Nareth's relationship with her mentor was equal to that of Geralt and the old wolf.

"Does it hurt? The mutation I mean..."

Letting out a sigh, the witcher carefully placed her sword in her lap before resting her elbows on it. The mutation had been the most intense and painful sensation she had ever felt. It was a long and arduous process, not everyone survived it.

"It's not something for the weak. It is a process that is thought out, not everyone can go through it. I hope that in bringing you here Geralt doesn't have the idea of turning you into a mutant." As she finished her sentence, the white wolf appeared like a good protector. After exchanging a look, Nareth stood up, putting her sword away before leaning towards Ciri.

"Be careful, the world is changing and you must prepare for the worst..." She then straightened up before whistling at her horse and giving the witcher a frank smile, "...but you are in good hands."

Nareth then disappeared behind the great door of the Wolf School fortress, leaving Cirilla to begin her training with the witcher.

The first stages of Cirilla's training were very different from those of Nareth. The school's mentor, Erland of Larvik, followed the rules of chivalry to the letter and therefore all his "children" had to follow them as well. Following several of Geralt's brothers out of the fortress, Nareth was surprised to find the young princess in training. The witcher hadn't had the chance to train on such structures, the world needed protectors and old Erland's training wasn't as fun.

[Deirdre] - She'll hurt herself... Nareth you need to stop her before she gets wounded!

Turning a deaf ear to her sister's advice, Nareth watched Ciri's movements with great attention. It was obvious that she was trying hard to succeed. When Geralt appeared next to Vesemir and Nareth's comrade, Coën, everyone could feel the rush of bravery that took hold of Cirilla. But it was not enough to allow her to face the wooden structure in its entirety. The young woman first let Geralt approach the princess before elbowing Lambert, who couldn't help but gently scoff. Eventually, she approached the girl, holding out her hand to help her up.

"You've done well, you'll get there eventually!"

As Cirilla left with her protector to clean her freshly opened wounds, Nareth landed in the main room and poured herself a glass of beer under the amused gaze of Lambert and Coën. With the liquid still in her mouth, the young woman gave him a questioning look.

"What?" she asked after swallowing the contents of her glass.

"Nothing, I just think you drink a lot for someone of your… stature."

Frowning, Nareth placed her empty glass on the table before standing up to face the red-haired witcher. "And by 'of my stature' you obviously mean the fact that I'm a woman." Raising his hands in front of him as if to clear his name, Lambert's sly, provocative smile left no doubt as to his real intentions.

"You're the one who said it. I only hinted that if you don't stop drinking we'll be in trouble for the next meal." While pouring herself a fresh glass, the young woman made sure to get into the witcher's game.

"You're right Lambert, we'll finish the supplies quicker if there are two of us." With a cheerful air, she patted the seat next to her to invite Lambert to join her before pouring him a drink.

The alcohol had slowly managed to loosen tongues and ease tensions. After a slight verbal confrontation with Geralt, Cirilla had finally joined the others. The drinks flowed, the card games went on and so did the anecdotes.

"...a woman called for help because she saw a griffin flying over her village, we were near Velen if I'm not mistaken. So I go to the mountains to see if there's a nest somewhere. And there, looming over me, a ferocious creature half-cat half-bird..."

"Yes, a griffin, you’re speaking to witchers, you stupid bastard" Lambert cut her off. Letting out a grunt, Nareth threw the contents of her glass at him, starting one of the funniest and most ridiculous fights Cirilla and the other witchers had ever had the chance to witness, which did not have the expected conclusion.

The next morning, at dawn, when the sun had just begun to shine, Nareth was in the main courtyard sealing her horse. As she was about to mount him, a voice behind her stopped her.

"You are leaving us like a thief." Lambert, still a little red-faced, stood a few feet away from her.

"I remembered that a mourntart is always lurking around, I'd hate to think that she'd attacked a village and that children were missing. I came for Cirilla, she is safe with you."

Nareth replied while petting her horse so as not to be tempted to turn back. She then felt the witcher's warm, still boozy breath, on her neck.

"You can at least stay a little longer, you'll leave in the afternoon." Tightening her bridles, the young woman mounted her horse while tying her cloak.

"We are witchers Lambert, I have a contract and the sooner it is completed the sooner I can get back to you. Don't tell me you'll miss me."

The redhead's pride could not allow him to admit that he did. Without answering her, he let out a contemptuous sigh before returning inside.

[Deirdre] - Your horse is the only man you really need...

"Thank you...Deirdre... your interventions are always of incredible quality."

[Deirdre] - I will always be there to help.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher imagine #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #princess cirilla #ciri of cintra #cirilla imagine #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geralt #cirilla x reader #witcher #vesemir #eskel #lambert #school of the griffin #school of the wolf #kaer morhen #lambert x reader

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

Series

Soul of a Warrior [Jaskier x OC] [Finished] 🌟

Geralt of Rivia

Gif Imagines

Geralt Noticing You’re Jealous

Not A Monster

Ficlets

Not A Hero 💙

I Don’t Need You 🖤

Drabbles

Much Better 💛

Headcanons

Dating Geralt (And Being Plus Size)

Being Like A Sibling For Geralt 🌼

Geralt And Kids 👤

Geralt’s Warrior S/O Getting Hurt 💚

Geralt Frenemies With Witch!Reader

Reader Flirting With Geralt

Geralt & Reader Arguing

Geralt & Reader Wanting Privacy

Being Geralt’s Soft Spot

Geralt Reuniting With Warrior Reader

Prompts

“You couldn’t stay put, could you?” “And let you have all the fun?”

“Y/N, you’re back. How…?”

“I told you to wait for me“

“I will protect you from humans” 💙

“Kiss me again, like you mean it”

“You could have died” “I don’t deserve you” 💚💙

Jaskier de Lettenhove

Gif Imagines

Wandering With Jaskier

Jaskier Holding Your Child

Jaskier Playing With Your Hair

Being A Lost Princess & Falling In Love With Jaskier

Meeting Jaskier On A Halloween Masquerade Ball 🎃

Reuniting With Jaskier

Jaskier Singing To You When You Can’t Sleep 💙

Jaskier Giving You A Locket

Wearing Jaskier’s Shirt

Coming Out To Jaskier As Graysexual 🌈

Jaskier Finding Out You Like Women 🌈

Comforting Jaskier After The Mountain

Ficlets

Closer 💚💙

What Would Do You Without Me? 💙💛🌟

Little Bard 💙💛

Light Of My Life 💛

Shower Day 🎵💙🖤

I Still Love You 🎵🖤

Friends 💚💛

Under Your Spell 💚💛

You're My Heart 💛🖤

Drabbles

New Look

Save You 💚💙

Headcanons

Dating Jaskier

Falling In Love With Jaskier

Spending The Night With Jaskier

First Kiss With Jaskier

Reader Soft For Jaskier

Jaskier Comforting Reader 💙

Jaskier & Paintress S/O

Jaskier & Shy S/O

Reader Comforting Jaskier 💙

Jaskier & Reader’s Rivalry

Jaskier & S/O’s First Big Fight

Jaskier’s Trans Male S/I Insecure 🏳️‍🌈

Jaskier’s Strong S/O

Jaskier Seeing Reader Getting Hurt

Jaskier Surprising Reader On Valentine’s Day 💘

Sleepy Cuddles With Jaskier 💛

Prompts

“Louder, love, I can’t hear your beautiful voice”

“It’s none of your business” “It is my business when I’m the reason you’re crying” 💚

“Did you really think I was into Geralt while I was mesmerised by your songs?”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me”

“Please don’t cry” “I like playing with your hair” “Let me hold you for a bit longer”

“You just saved my life” “You’re hurt, let me do that for you” “I guess... we should kiss now”

“Seems like you fell for me, Y/N”

“Why so much make-up?” “All that matters is that you’re here” “I know you’re strong enough to do this on your own”

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?" "You look beautiful" "Don't give me the puppy eyes"

Aesthetics

Hufflepuff!Jaskier

Slytherin!Jaskier

Cirilla of Cintra

Gif Imagines

Befriending Ciri 🌼

Being A Werebear And Transforming To Protect Ciri 🌼

Ficlets

Acquaintances

Headcanons

Dating Cirilla Of Cintra [Witcher 3]

Game!Ciri’s Male S/O Meeting Yennefer And Geralt

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Gif Imagines

Yennefer’s Lesbian Bard Companion Confessing 🌈

Drabbles

In Your Head 🌟

Headcanons

Dating Yennefer Of Vengerberg

Prompts

“I shouldn’t be in love with you” “Are you jealous?” “I’m so scared” 🌟

Aesthetics

Slytherin!Yennefer

Triss Merigold

Headcanons

Dating Triss Merigold [Witcher 3]

Renfri / Shrike

Gif Imagines

Lesbian Relattionship 🌈

Headcanons

Traveling With Your Girlfriend Renfri

Cahir Aep Ceallach

Headcanons

Cahir Falling For Reader

Misc

Gif Imagines

Jaskier Flirting With You & It Annoying Geralt 🎁

Triss & Yennefer Getting You Ready For Your Wedding With Jaskier

Being A Seer & Meeting Geralt & Jaskier 🌟

Drabbles

Powerful [Geralt & Jaskier] 💙

Unwanted [Geralt & Jaskier] 💙

Headcanons

Traveling With Geralt And Jaskier

Powerful Beneveolent Overlord S/O

Geralt Being Jaskier’s Wingman

Reader Reminiscing With Geralt & Jaskier

Geralt & Jaskier As Parents

Geralt & Jaskier Both Crushing On You

Halloween In The Continent 🎃

Oneshots

The Ballad Of Y/N [Geralt & Jaskier] // Part 2 💚🌟

#fandoms masterlist #the witcher #the witcher masterlist #witcher #witcher masterlist

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constantfluxx · 4 years

Text

🎶The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: The SS 200🎶

Port of Call: Cirilla x OC: Reeve! 👸👦 Itinerary: Branle Des Chevaux by Erutan Captain: @constantfluxx (I couldn’t help myself!)

Cirilla sighed, kneeling by the forest’s edge. Fingers outstretched, she pushed around a couple small, loose stones. A small smile touched her lips, fleetingly treated to memories of playing knucklebones in the great, bustling streets of Cintra. Her brow softened, vision beginning to blur - what she’d once looked upon with fondness had grown tainted, re-framed in a new perspective’s lens.

When did life become so tiring? She’d found her destiny at last, but it was... nothing like she’d thought it’d be. Geralt was nice enough, of that she had no complaints. Well, mostly. He was certainly capable, and remained diligent about her safety. But, well...

...he just wasn’t all that fun.

In the grand scheme of things, she supposed it wasn’t really that big of a deal. After all, she was a princess without a kingdom, and as if that weren’t troubling enough she’d been given this great, mysterious power that apparently at least one person out there in the world was after. Really, she supposed she should be thankful Geralt protected her from all that - and kept her regularly fed to boot. It was unreasonable for her to ask for anything more than that, especially when she didn’t even know what that “anything more” would be.

Heeheehee!

Cirilla’s face snapped up, eyes wide. Instinctively, her hand snatched up one of the larger stones she’d been poking, though she didn’t really know what she expected to accomplish with it. Through the pounding of her heart in her ears, she listened, warily scanning the forest stretching out before her.

The mumblings of the quiet town. The trot of hooves along the beaten road. Geralt arguing with the innkeeper about Roach. The rustle of leaves.

Her eyes snapped to a tree. The settling shifting of a low bush betrayed its recent disturbance. She frowned, slowly drawing herself back up to a stand.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Can’t you waive the stable charge? It’s just the one night! If you want any of our money, you’ll—”

“I’ll get it from some other wanderin’ gripe - someone what has the coin, an’ no wee trouble either!”

Cirilla sighed, looking back to the forest, lush and green and inviting.

It’ll just be a moment.

“Scoutin’ the area for trouble,” she murmured, gripping her stone tight. She took her first footstep passed the edge of the trees. “Making sure it’s safe.”

The leaves crunched beneath her feet. The low branches brushed against her cloak. Warm sun filtered down through the canopy - with her hood drawn, it could touch but the tip of her nose, yet even that was enough to impart small comfort. She searched the trees, but no matter how hard she looked she could find no one else, neither human nor beast. Admittedly a bit disappointed to have come up empty-handed, she sighed and turned back from whence she came.

She frowned. She thought she’d turned, but obviously that wasn’t the case - before her laid only more forest, peaceful and quiet and still. No matter - she turned.

Her heart started to race. More forest stretched before her, just as beautiful as before but increasingly eerie. Her lip trembled, and she took a wary step backwards, and then another, trying to fathom the endless flora wrapped around her.

“Don’t be afraid!”

Cirilla whirled, suddenly coming face-to-face with... a small boy? She hesitated, eyeing him head-to-toe. He seemed young, perhaps a year or two her junior, with a mess of yellow-blonde hair stretching just long enough to brush before a pair of bright, emerald-green eyes. Spotting the points of his ears, she pulled her cloak tight about her, readying her stone underneath. “You’re an elf?” she asked, wondering if she’d once again face the consequences of her family’s past.

He blinked and tilted his head, a world of curiosity leaning him towards her. “What’s an elf?”

She scowled. “Don’t tease me!” she scolded. “I can see your ears!”

“Huh?” he replied, seeming genuinely surprised. His eyes glanced to the side as his fingers idly traced the edge of his ears. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

There was something unsettling about his pure demeanor. It wasn’t right, somehow, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was simply that she wasn’t used to not being attacked anymore? That was certainly a disparaging thought. Her eyes flickered over him again, and she hesitantly ventured, “What’s your name?”

“Reeve!” he happily chirped, all of a suddenly dropping all preoccupation with his ears. He grinned, gazing expectantly up at her with wide eyes. “What’s yours?”

“Fiona,” she replied with zero hesitation.

Reeve grinned. “Liar.”

“I... what?” she gasped. Amazingly, she’d never faced this situation before, and so didn’t have a practiced response for it.

“Hmm,” the little boy murmured, rubbing his chin. He squinted at her. “Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Okay. ‘C,’ huh?”

Cirilla frowned, growing increasingly wary of the odd boy. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Cici?” the boy asked, instantly sending her into a panicked fluster. “Circei? Ciri? Ciri?”

“Q-Quiet!” she scolded, suddenly planting her hands on the boy’s mouth. Her eyes ranged all around them, frantically searching for hidden onlookers.

Reeve simply giggled, reaching up to gently remove her hands from his face. “Don’t worry, Ciri! No one can hear!”

Cirilla flinched, withdrawing her hands and taking a step back from the bizarre boy. “That’s less comforting than it seems you think it is. Who are you? How did you guess my name?”

“I told you,” the boy laughed, “I’m Reeve!” He blinked, and suddenly an incredibly sad expression came over him, his shoulders slumping and his head tilting to one side. “Wait... You haven’t heard of me?”

As far as odd questions went, it certainly wasn’t the oddest, but that didn’t make it any less bizarre coming from some random boy wandering the forest. Her brow narrowed, taking a moment to examine his clothes - a simple brown tunic, and olive slacks cut off at the knee, with no shoes or socks. Despite his humble appearance, though, he wasn’t particularly run-down or tattered. In fact, he looked awfully clean for someone roaming the forest, which really just made her all the more suspicious. “Am I meant to have?” she warily asked.

“Hmm,” he murmured, rubbing his chin again. “No, I suppose not.”

“Are you a royal?” she asked. “Is that how you knew my name?” An alarming thought occurred to her, and she took another cautionary step back. “You’re Nilfgaardian, aren’t you?!”

“Huh?” Reeve replied, utterly unphased by her alarm. “What’s a Nilfgaardian?”

Cirilla sighed - whoever he was, this “Reeve” boy was surely far too clueless to be much of a threat. Not that it made him any less eerie. She shook her head at him. “Listen, you should really be more careful out in the wild. It’s dangerous out here all alone.”

He grinned, and once more Cirilla found herself unsettled by his rampant joy. “It’s alright, Ciri. I just want to play!”

“You... what?” She couldn’t help but half-laugh at the proposition. So much of her recent passed had been consumed with running, hiding, and generally being on guard. The world wasn’t safe, and when it wasn’t safe you had to keep your wits about you. “Reeve, we can’t just... play out here in the forest. What if a monster finds us?”

“They won’t!” he happily replied. It brought no comfort to her, but that hardly seemed to matter to him. He grabbed her hand and started to run deeper into the forest. “Come on!”

Cirilla had no time to protest before her feet were speeding along the forest floor, struggling to keep up with the young, energetic Reeve. “Hey! Wait!” she called. The corners of her mouth curled, and her next breath jittered on its way passed her lips. “Slow down!”

Within minutes, Cirilla was chasing after Reeve, face stretched out into a wide, exhilarated smile. At some point, Reeve’s hand had slipped out of hers, but it didn’t stop her from chasing after him. She’d thought she’d tired of running, but somehow this was different... This was fun! Reeve’s laughter was infectious, and even the birdsong dancing around their heads seemed to celebrate their joy.

“Gotcha!” Cirilla cried, lunging forward to grab Reeve’s shoulders.

With a shrill laugh, Reeve turned just out of reach, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his tunic. “Nu-uh!”

Cirilla lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. Reeve whirled to face her, alarmed, but to his great relief Cirilla had caught herself just enough to temper the fall. She rolled onto her back, still laughing as she laid upon the ground. “This is incredible!” she rejoiced. “I haven’t had this much fun since...” She hesitated, suddenly growing quiet.

Beside her, Reeve quieted as well, settling into a cross-legged sit beside her. She looked at him, and to her surprise there was a kind of reservation to his smile, much calmer and composed than he’d been earlier. “Since you left Cintra?”

Cirilla sat bolt upright, eyes alight with fury. “How do you—”

“I’m sorry!” Reeve quickly replied, shying away from her and throwing his hands up defensively. “I... I didn’t want to scare you...”

“Scare me?!” she cried. Her panic surged, and she quickly twisted upon the floor to face him. “What’s going on, Reeve?! You are from Nilfgaard, aren’t you?!”

“No!” the boy insisted. “I’m not! I...” His eyes glanced around the forest floor. A young sprout poked through a portion of the grass beside him. As Cirilla watched in guarded curiosity, he reached over and plucked it from the ground, then held it out to her.

Her lips parted to refute the strange token, but her words fell into an awed gasp as, before her eyes, the sprout shivered, then grew, then at last fully bloomed into a bright, vibrant flower, all right there in the palm of his hand. Warily, she reached out and touched the flower’s delicate petals - they were soft to the touch, bending easily against her fingertips. “You’re a sorcerer?”

Reeve grinned. She looked up, and only then noticed his emerald eyes had begun to glow, bright and beautiful and ominous. “I’m a god.”

Slowly, her brow furrowed. At his encouragement, she took the flower from his hand, idly taking to twirling it between her fingertips as she puzzled over his words. “What... do you mean?” she murmured. She wracked her brain, but in no lore she’d ever been taught could she recall hearing of a “Reeve,” nor even any divine little boy.

“I heard you praying,” he admitted, guiltily looking off in one direction. She followed his gaze and to her total surprise saw the forest’s edge, the townspeople still bustling about unawares. “The forest is my domain, you see. You stood at my doorstep, and you wanted to play.” He looked back at her so suddenly it made her start, his expression returned to an overwhelming grin. “I’m good at playing, see!”

She simply blinked at him. Surely, she was being tricked? But... he wasn’t exactly wrong about it all... She had hoped, dearly, for just one moment of being a kid again, and what was “hoping” if not unstructured praying? She narrowed her eyes at him. “So... the forest is telling you what I’m thinking? That’s how you knew my name? And about Cintra?”

Reeve giggled, then stood up and offered her a hand. To prove the point, he replied, “Geralt’s still arguing with the innkeep.”

Surprise touched Cirilla’s expression - she hadn’t said it, but a part of her had been worried Geralt was looking for her. Though she remained unsure just how much she could really trust this boy, and all he was saying, she ultimately took his hand and let him help her to a stand. “I should still get back to him,” she replied gently. “I don’t want to think about what he’d do if he thought someone took me.”

“I know,” he sighed, expression drooping. He thought for a moment, then hesitantly looked up at her. His eyes had ceased to glow, but still the sun gleamed off their brilliant hues - divine or not, he was certainly unnatural. “Did you have fun, at least?”

Cirilla looked down at the flower in her hands. It was a simple question with a deceptively complicated answer. “I can say I enjoyed myself, at least,” she replied, admittedly wary of angering Reeve - after all, if he really was a good, she didn’t much like the idea of getting on his bad side. On the other hand, if the forest was betraying her thoughts anyhow, she doubted she’d fare much better lying to him outright. “I think I need to just... learn to have fun again, I suppose. And that sort of thing is difficult to do when you’re on the run.”

In her unease, Reeve saw an opportunity, his manner encouraged to brighten once more. “Well... would you like to? Learn, I mean.” He planted his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Cuz ‘fun’ is something I’m great at!”

Marveling at how quaint and unassuming Reeve seemed, Cirilla couldn’t help but laugh. “Indeed you are!” Gazing back down at her flower, her smile lingered upon her lips. She pondered her strange experience a moment longer, then softly replied, “Yes... I think I would.”

“Would what?”

Cirilla spun around, wide eyes falling upon a piercing, yellow glare. “Geralt!”

Geralt sighed, reaching out to lay a firm, guiding hand upon her shoulder. “Come on. You can’t go running off like that!”

“I was just—” she began, but when she turned look over her shoulder she saw not but forest, peaceful and quiet and still. She smiled, tickled by the odd boy’s slipperiness, then turned back around and let Geralt lead her back to the town, flower held close to her heart. “Just having a look,” she finished aloud. But silently, her thoughts remained with the forest.

Until next time, my friend!

#The Witcher #Ciri #Cirilla of Cintra #Erutan #fanfiction #writing prompts #fluxx fics #the tune cruise #The SS 200 #Ciri deserves nice things #this took way longer than I wanted #oh well don't caaaaaaare #hope you all like it!

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eddysocs · 5 months

Text

Meeting Ciri (Geralt Of Rivia x OC)

Summary: Laraya finally meets the legendary Ciri, who has taken up so much of Geralt's time and energy.

Word Count: 627

Warnings: Some angst/jealousy

Laraya's entrance into the dimly lit tavern was accompanied by the soft creaking of the heavy wooden door. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive even in the dim light of the indoors, quickly scanned the room until they locked onto the figure sitting at the corner table. Geralt. And with him, the infamous Princess Cirilla.

As Geralt rose from their table, presumably to fetch himself another ale, Laraya approached with her usual self assured stride. Yet she couldn't deny the sense of expectation that hung between both her and Ciri. Geralt had spoken of Ciri often and always with a mix of protectiveness and pride in his voice. Now that she was finally face to face with the young girl, Laraya couldn't help but feel a twinge of uncertainty.

Ciri nursed a mug between her hands, staring into the dark liquid within and only looked up when Laraya pressed her hands to the table and leaned in, trying to get a proper look at her. Though they’d never met before, a flicker of realization crossed Ciri's face before she composed herself. She must have discerned who she was based off of Geralt's description, or at least decided that she didn’t pose a threat. Foolish mistake. She could very much be a threat if she had the mind to. Laraya offered a polite nod, her lips curving into a what she hoped was a cordial smile. "Ciri, right? Geralt has told me a lot about you."

Ciri's response was measured, her expression guarded. "Likewise, I'm sure."

Geralt made his way back to the table in time to catch Ciri's rather curt response. "Ciri," Geralt chastised, like he would any young child in his charge, Laraya supposed. Their exchange had held a polite veneer, but Geralt detected a tension beneath it. Laraya took a seat opposite Ciri, as Geralt took his former place beside her. Meanwhile, Laraya's eyes never left the young girl's face.

As they engaged in small talk, Laraya maintained a façade of friendliness. Geralt hadn’t said as much, but she knew that he’d hoped they’d get on. She inquired about Ciri's experiences, her training with Geralt, and the adventures they'd shared that brought them here. Yet, with each answer, Laraya found herself mentally gauging the depth of her connection to Geralt.

Ciri, in turn, responded with a what could pass for openness, but —no stranger to secrets herself— Laraya could tell Ciri had walled off the most crucial parts of her story. She spoke vaguely of her past, the trials she had faced, and the times she'd shared with Geralt. Laraya listened attentively, masking her true feelings beneath partially feigned interest.

As the conversation progressed, Laraya couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Ciri was more than just a passing figure in Geralt's life. The girl's presence seemed to carry an undeniable weight. Despite her efforts to be civil, Laraya couldn't fully suppress her subtle feeling of discomfort. Ciri's bond with Geralt was evident, and it sparked a flicker of jealousy within Laraya, a sentiment she hadn't anticipated.

The evening wore on, and the tension in the tavern lingered like an unspoken challenge. Laraya wondered if Geralt could feel it too. When she finally excused herself, she bid Ciri a polite farewell, hoping it would convince Geralt that they’d bonded. As she stepped out into the cool night air, she couldn't shake the unease that settled in her chest.

Walking away from the tavern, Laraya knew that Ciri's presence had introduced a new layer of complexity into her relationship with Geralt. The path ahead seemed uncertain, and their first encounter hadn’t gone over entirely well, but first impressions aren’t always lasting ones. She was sure their paths would cross again, either way. Until then, Laraya thought. Until then.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @bossyladies, @getawaycardotmp3, @misshiraethsworld, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw

Laraya Of Lyria: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @dollvi3e

#oc: laraya of lyria #fc: katheryn winnick #fd: the witcher #laraya x geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x oc #the witcher

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inmyfxith · 2 years

Text

The End of a Myth

Pairing: Cirilla x OC!reader / Lambert x OC!reader / Vesemir x OC!reader / Rience x OC!reader (mentioned).

OC: Cedrel, Seirsa, Nareth, Celda & Deirdre of Ard Carraigh.

A/N: The Sisters of Ard Carraigh / The Wolf and the Griffin / Meet Again / Friends out of Interest

Warnings: Violence, mention of blood.

Words: 3 267

Having managed to find Geralt after dealing with the Mourntart, Nareth accompanied the witcher, the bard, and Yarpen's company to Cintra where Geralt thought he would find Cirilla. The white wolf asked her and Jaskier to bring the girl to the safety of Kaer Morhen. The bard took advantage of the trip to learn more about his traveling companion.

"The beauty of your hair reminds me strangely of someone." Frowning and looking annoyed, Nareth let out a sigh closer to a growl.

"All witchers are kind so..." slumping into his seat, Jaskier found nothing better to do than tell his life story and sing along. Moving closer to Cirilla, the young woman adjusted the pace of her horse so she could easily chat with her. But when Nareth felt her medallion vibrate on her chest, she instructed Yarden to take care of the young princess until she could find and neutralize the monster that must have been hiding in the forest along the road. Forcing her horse into the woods, Nareth was not afraid for her, but rather for Cirilla. Since the slaughter of Cintra things had changed, the air had become heavier, as if the tiny breezes were carrying unhappy news on their shoulders. As she prepared to attack whatever was breaking the peace of the forests surrounding Kaer Morhen, the girl suddenly became aware of what she was facing. Floating in the air as those embers danced, Nareth recognized the voice of the deathless mother around her as they met as if they were old friends. Raising her sword to face her, the demon only passed through her before heading towards the witchers' fortress.

Recognizing that she could not defeat this monster alone, the young woman took out of her leather armor the small wooden figurine that represented her, clutching it in her hands and bringing it to her mouth, she whispered a few words to it before resuming her run towards Kaer Morhen.

Leaning on the balcony of her room, Cedrel was watching the horizon, desperately looking for a way to reconnect with her little sister Celda. Since their arrival in this world, they had never been separated for so long. Of course, during Nareth's mutation, the contact had been broken but it had come back at the end of the latter. This feeling of dread was coupled with guilt for reasons known only to her.

Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with the fresh air of Kaedwen's kingdom before being joined by her little sister. As she did every time she went out, Deirdre was dressed in her long veil. Settling down next to Cedrel, the young woman took her hand before putting her head on her shoulder. For as long as she could remember, Cedrel had always acted more like a mother than a sister. As the youngest sister, Deirdre could afford to do things her other sisters could not. Her recklessness had earned her the scar on her face that she now wore with shame. Many years before, she had fallen in love with a mage in Ard Carraigh who was part of Kaedwen's secret service. At that time, the sisters were still living in the capital of the kingdom, where Deirdre had met the one who called himself Rience. Although they were separated by the mage's duty, Deirdre always managed to find a way to find him and spend some time with him. Their relationship was a secret on the young man's side, while Deirdre had informed her sisters of the beginning of her romance. However, one day while walking around the city without really looking for him, the girl spotted her companion with some spies. In all innocence, she approached them thinking she could exchange with the one she loved. Instead, all she got were screams and the beautiful gash that now covered part of her face, condemning her to live with the shame of having once thought she could live with a mage.

Feeling a kind of nostalgia invade his little sister, Cedrel placed a kiss on her forehead before giving her some reassuring words. But suddenly, the older sister sat up as she heard someone calling her. Nareth's voice came not in her mind but through the small wooden figurine that each of the sisters possessed, as Deirdre's was in Cirilla's possession, Cedrel was the only one to hear it. Without waiting, the young woman had two horses sealed before the two women set off for Kaer Morhen.

As for Queen Seirsa, her mind was occupied with the Redanian question. She had obviously warned Henselt of King Vizimir's schemes, so he was not surprised when he heard the rest of the story from Tissaia de Vries at the council. It was now clear that the northern kingdoms would be torn apart before Cirilla of Cintra was even found. Of course, thanks to her sisters, she knew exactly where the girl was, but, probably out of guilt, she had never dared to tell anyone. Vizimir's desires were becoming even more threatening than Emperor Emhyr's, and Seirsa spent her days trying to find a solution to her problems. Sitting at her desk writing a letter to the ruler of Skellige, Seirsa suddenly heard a voice calling her. Nareth's voice begged her to go to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible, which she did without delay.

After meeting Jaskier at an inn, Celda had returned to the Oxenfurt Academy where she continued to learn from him. She was concerned, however, that she no longer heard from the insufferable yet endearing bard, Julian Alfred Pankratz. For reasons unknown, Celda had become interested in the history of the conjunction of the spheres and the monsters that had emerged from it. Sitting in the academy library, her eyes were riveted on a huge book that told in detail how the first witchers had come into the world. As time went on, she began to get used to the solitude of her mind. So much so that when she heard Nareth's voice, she thought it was an invention. But the voice did not leave her and kept telling her to go to Kaer Morhen. So, in order to get there faster, Celda begged one of the mages at the academy to open a portal to the witchers' fortress, claiming that it was only a visit for her research.

Hoping that it was not too late, Nareth saw each of her sisters arrive one after the other before quickly explaining the situation to them while trying to keep her calm. Only Cedrel managed to recognize in her explanation the misdeeds of the deathless mother since she had already used her services. Like everyone else, she thought she had been locked up for years but as nothing lasts forever, they had to act. Understanding the situation better than anyone, the eldest of the family decided to take matters into her own hands. Chaos seemed to reign inside the fortress and the noises emanating from it did not bode well.

Determined to put an end to the demon's actions, Cedrel stormed into the main room, followed by her sisters, who were a little confused by the sudden courage shown by their eldest sister.

"Voleth Meir!" she shouted across the room, obviously full of resentment, annoyed that she had truly been let go. Advancing with a determined step to a possessed Cirilla, Cedrel addressed his former acquaintance directly.

"I hope you remember me, you vile serpent." The young princess's face allowed a disturbing smile to appear.

"Cedrel, my old friend, you have kept me alive until now and I am alive again."

"What does she mean by 'you kept me alive'?" Vesemir asked Cedrel while affixing his sword to her neck.

"It means I'm going to need a fire Vesemir."

For her part, Nareth had found Lambert who had been injured by one of the monsters released by the deathless mother.

"You missed the most interesting part, you little fool." He said while holding his leg. Simply happy to see him alive again, Nareth hugged him for a few seconds before tossing him to not get too used to so much affection. Celda went to find Jaskier. Just as her sister had done, the young woman took her friend in her arms without paying attention to what the people around could say.

"Once again, you smell like old books. Oh, how I have missed that smell." The bard exclaimed while taking a deep breath in the young woman's hair. Seirsa stayed away, as did Deirdre, but not for the same reasons. The youngest of the family was hiding more than anything else. In the presence of strangers, and even more so when they were men, all her fears came to the surface.

"Stop whining for a moment!" Seirsa's voice was authoritative, it had always been so, but even more so since the incident at Ard Carraigh. The queen refused to allow the witchers to give her even a glance. She cursed herself for even following Nareth's voice when she saw how much Kaer Morhen was in ruins. As the fire now burned in the middle of the room, Cedrel invited her sisters to form a circle around it. With Deirdre on her right and Seirsa on her left, the ritual could begin. In the ancient language, the eldest of the family explained to them what was going to happen, what she expected of them, and especially why she was waiting for them. Cirilla was the main reason for the ritual that the sisters of Ard Carraigh were about to perform. With her face turned towards the blaze, Cedrel recited one of the prayers she had once said in honor of Voleth Meir, the one that had been engraved on the medallion she wore around her neck.

"Illustrious Goddess, eternal soul in the heavens, with a heavy heart I come to you. I deserted you, I cursed with your names in a moment of sorrow. Forgive me for my flaws, heal me of these self-inflicted wounds. I put my fate in your hands so I can strengthen my resolve."

Once she spoke her formula, she threw her necklace into the flames, letting out a grunt from Cirilla.

"You shouldn't have done that" the young princess exclaimed as, before everyone's eyes, a large gash decorated Cedrel's throat, spurting out streams of blood that mingled with the color of her dress. Her hands tried to contain the liquid but it did not prevent her from choking on her own blood. The body of the eldest of the family slid to the ground before disappearing into a dark mist. The room fell silent before Cirilla let out an almost painful grunt. Cedrel's act shocked even Vesemir, and he was not at the end of his surprises. It was then Seirsa's turn to say her prayer as an automatism. Her crown was the scroll.

"Dearest Mother, my keeper, in my time of need I come to you. Cleanse my soul so I might deliver myself. I request this of you in your most holy name, o creator of all. Absolve me with your sacred love.”

The queen of Kaedwen then threw the only material thing that made her what she was into the inferno. Everyone around her expected to see her go the same way as her older sister, in a pool of blood. Instead, the ruler left in screams, tears, and the heat of a witch's fire. Those ashes flew around the room like the mist that had carried Cedrel away a few minutes before. Knowing that it was his turn, Nareth gave Lambert a worried look in farewell. Her sword had been engraved with the lament she was to utter.

"Blessed Mother, glory be to you, I strayed from the path and stepped into darkness. Absolve me of my sins, grant me a chance to restore my faith. I put my fate in your hands so I may feel the warmth of your light once more."

Throwing her weapon into the flames, Cirilla let out another growl, deeper, more pained. The witcher had to suffer, just like her sisters, an atrocious end. Her abdomen was pierced in several places as if someone had stabbed her. Seeing no way out, Celda continued the ritual by reading the inscription on the pin that was her relic.

"Infinite Goddess, creator of all life, listen to my humble prayer. Cleanse my heart so I may make the right choice. I seek this of you in your most holy name, o giver of life. Anoint me with your divine flame."

Unlike before, Celda simply fell to the ground, as if asleep, under the cries of Jaskier who saw her friend slowly losing her life. When Celda's body disappeared, Deirdre took over, unable to afford to be alone. Her ring served as a relic.

"Dearest Mother, keeper of souls, temptation took hold of me in a moment of weakness. I failed you, I did not love others as you do. Forgive me for my flaws, brighten the darkness in my soul. Show me mercy so I may strengthen my soul to ward off evil anew."

The youngest of the family then began to suffocate as if someone were strangling her. Her agony continued for several seconds, an interminable moment for all those who were helpless in this situation. As Deirdre's body disappeared, Cirilla's body tensed as the material form of Voleth Meir was expelled from her body with a shrill sound. She tried to advance towards the glowing embers before falling to her knees and disintegrating completely. A macabre silence hung over the room, as everyone had had the chance to meet at least one of the sisters of Ard Carraigh. Approaching the fire, Vesemir noticed that the relics of the young women had not burned down completely. He grabbed Cedrel's medallion on which the prayer had been erased by the flames. It was then that, from the pile of ashes, the old wolf saw a hand emerge, then an arm, before everyone witnessed the rebirth of one of them, or rather of each of them as a single entity.

In Cedrel's manor, a few kilometers from the Wolf School's fortress, the old woman witnessed a strange phenomenon. Indeed, while she was busy cleaning the table in the dining room, the tapestry on which her employers were represented started to burn by itself, leaving, afterward, only the face of a single young woman. Slightly confused, the young woman sat on the pile of ashes for several seconds, watched by the witchers as they tried to convince themselves that she was not a threat. Cirilla was the first to approach under Geralt's worried gaze. The voice of the young princess seemed to bring the young woman out of her trance. She placed her hand on her cheek, her eyes moist and a slight smile on her lips.

"You're alive."

After quickly picking her up, Cirilla helped the young woman to her feet, revealing her nakedness. Most of the witchers looked away, out of respect, while, as a good gentleman, Jaskier held out his cloak to cover herself. In this state, she was vulnerable and no longer really looked like the Cedrel who had entered the room a few hours earlier. Accompanying her into one of the adjacent rooms, Cirilla was followed by Yennefer. The two women decided it was best to run a bath for their new guest. Once the ashes were removed from her skin, Cirilla was busy brushing her long black hair when someone knocked on the door. The young woman was still wearing the bard's cloak over her shoulders. Yennefer opened the door to a bewildered Lambert. He entered the room holding all the relics, which had been thrown into the fire during the ritual, in his hands and placed them on the bed in the room without uttering a word.

"Is he mad?" The young woman asked as she turned to Yennefer.

"You surprised everyone, arriving at five and leaving alone is a bit peculiar." The witch had answered with strangely much benevolence. The young woman let out a slight sigh before asking to be passed some clothes. A few hours after Voleth Meir's disappearance, the young woman from Ard Carraigh reappeared in the main hall where the witchers were trying to get some order back. She then invited them to sit down, before giving them an explanation for what had happened during the ritual.

"Some of you have met at least one of Ard Carraigh's sisters and it is perfectly legitimate to ask me the question as to why only I am left today." Taking a deep breath, the young woman tied Cedrel's medallion around her neck.

"Many years ago, when I was in Kaedwen, I made contact with Voleth Meir, the deathless mother, even before she was locked in her hut by the first witchers. At the time, she had been feeding off the deep loneliness that had taken hold of me after my parents left. So I made a kind of deal with her. The deathless mother divided my mind into five, creating a real family. Sisters that I have taken care of to this day." Continuing her story, the young woman slipped Deirdre's ring onto her finger and, faced with witchers who were more than a little confused as they listened to her story, her face tensed up revealing a large, ancient scar on one side of her face. "In exchange for this gift, she had a direct link to the thoughts of all of us, and I think it was through Nareth that she managed to trace her way back to Cirilla. We lived in Ard Carraigh for many years, before we all parted ways." Placing her hand on the pommel of Nareth's sword, the young woman felt her body change as her eyes took on a yellowish color. "So when one of them called out to us for help, when I heard that the description matched Voleth Meir, I knew I had enjoyed my right far too long." Hanging Celda's brooch on the piece of cloth that served as her dress, the young woman began to smile softly. "Please forgive me, all of you, if I have hurt you in any way, it was not my intention. Know that whatever sister you have met, she is now in me and I am sure you will find her.”

Returning to her room without saying anything more, she left the crown of Seirsa on the table in the room without touching it. Sitting on the bed, she heard knocking, and before she even allowed the person to enter, Vesemir made his entrance into the room.

"Don't worry, I'll be gone before dawn." The young woman exclaimed as she carefully observed the burns the fire had left on the various relics of the sisters.

"I'm not coming to put you out..." The old man sat down beside her, like a father ready to discuss a complicated subject with one of his children "I came to talk to you about guilt." Frowning, the young woman turned to him, expecting to be dealing with a lecture.

"We're led to do stupid things when we're suffering, but you showed a lot of courage to help Cirilla. Besides, you're one of us, you just went astray." Their discussion lasted a few more minutes, the young woman expressing her regrets about what she had done but also her fears about what would happen from now on.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #the witcher season 2 #spoilers #cirilla imagines #witcher ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirilla of cintra #lambert #lambert x reader #cirilla x reader #vesemir #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #school of the wolf #kaer morhen #rience

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inmyfxith · 2 years

Text

Friends out of interest

Pairing: Dijkstra x OC!reader / Vizimir x OC!reader

OC: Seirsa of Ard Carraigh

Warnings: None

A/N: Sisters' thoughts // The Sisters of Ard Carraigh / The Wolf and The Griffin / Meet Again / The End of a Myth

Words: 1 498

Of all the girls of Ard Carraigh, Seirsa was the only one who ever attained a role as important as that of a queen. While visiting the court of King Radowit I of Kaedwen, she attracted the attention of his son, Henselt, who had become King of Kaedwen after his father's death. Being madly in love, he asked for her hand in marriage as soon as he was master of his destiny and she accepted. After her marriage, she became Queen of Kaedwen, Lady of Ard Carraigh, Archduchess of Ban Ard, a city mainly known for its magic academy and for its mines which made it a real jewel for the crown, and ruler of Vespaden, a duchy located in the North of the kingdom. A few years after she settled down, she gave him a son, who himself had time to have a son before mysteriously dying during a hunting trip. Seirsa never really got over it.

Even though her husband was the sole ruler of Kaedwen, the young woman almost always had a say in the decisions taken by King Henselt, but never in an official way so as not to make him look weak. A few weeks before the slaughter of Cintra, she sent a letter to Queen Calanthe proposing to strengthen the alliance already in force against Emhyr of Nilfgaard. She even went to the Court of the latter where she had the chance to meet the young princess that everyone called the Lion cub of Cintra, Cirilla. Seirsa knew how to talk to people, she was always very persuasive, and, like many of her sisters, like Cedrel or Celda, she was very eloquent.

Unfortunately, Kaedwen's forces did not have time to intervene at the time of the massacre, so the queen suggested to her husband that he send his troops to Sodden Hill, where she had heard that a battle was being prepared. Although they lost a large number of their warriors in this battle, they were victorious. Therefore, the alliance between the northern kingdoms was the most beneficial thing for Kaedwen. Having heard about the movements of the elven population in Cintra and their alliance with the Nilfgaardians, Seirsa received a letter from one of the advisors of King Vizimir II of Redania, Sigismund Dijkstra. The latter invited her to a meeting with the king to discuss a possible alliance in addition to the one already in place. Having small problems with a group of non-humans, she jumped at the chance to destroy all those who opposed her husband's power. So she went to Redania to meet the king.

"Ah, my dear friend, it is a pleasure to see you again at last." Rising from his seat, the Redanian king approached Seirsa to leave a kiss on her knuckles. He then invited her to sit on the seat opposite his desk so that they could talk in privacy.

"You look lovely, just like all the times we've crossed paths." Seirsa knew full well that Vizimir was a handsome speaker but that, just as in her kingdom, he was not the one making the decisions.

"We'd better get to the point, Vizimir, it's been a long road and I hope to get some rest before dinner." Standing upright in her chair, the young queen crossed her hands in her lap. Vizimir, for his part, settled back into his seat before leaning slightly over his desk to speak to her.

From her seat, the young queen could hear the great city of Tretogor, the capital of the kingdom, living through the small window. The air rushing into the room blew a few strands of her dark hair. Seirsa's face remained impassive, she rarely showed her feelings, even with her family. Vizimir took a deep breath before beginning her speech.

"My sweet queen Seirsa, as you know, the elven people have allied themselves with the Nilfgaardians..." Questioning his guest with his eyes, the latter shook her head in response "...they have settled in the city of Cintra, held by Emhyr's troops, with the sole purpose of reviving Xin'trea." He paused afterward to pour himself a glass of Redanian lager.

Knowing his game perfectly, Seirsa let out an annoyed sigh.

"So what? What does that have to do with me? Vizimir, I don't have your time." Raising his eyebrows, the king finished his drink before continuing.

"Very well, very well, I wish to recover Cintra. Cleanse it of non-human vermin..."

"And make it part of your kingdom, what business is it of mine?"

"Like yours, my troops suffered many losses after Sodden. We are allies, I have not betrayed you, so yes I have come to ask for your help in liberating the city from the late great Queen Calanthe."

Seirsa took a few minutes to think about his proposal. She had met Vizimir before, most notably at the signing of the alliance between the northern kingdoms and the last time when the black knight was not executed by the mage council.

"And, may I ask, who gave you this idea?" The young woman was no fool, unlike the king in front of her, it was almost obvious that Vizimir was not entirely the sole brain behind this desire to dominate Cintra.

Seirsa had a small idea of who might be behind it, but she wanted to be sure.

"It's me." A voice rose behind her, a male voice. The man approached her before bowing, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, and introducing himself.

"Sigismund Dijkstra my queen, at your service." Frowning, Seirsa carefully examined her new interlocutor. A tall, bald man, who nonetheless seemed incredibly strong, and yet, as he was approached, the young woman had felt uncomfortable. Trying to regain her composure, the young woman refused the glass the counselor handed her for fear of finding poison in it.

After several minutes, the young woman finally spoke.

"And how does taking over Cintra benefit me? What's in it for me?" Questioning his master with his eyes to see if he could speak, the counselor set out to coax the young queen.

"Imagine a world where you were both Queen of Kaedwen and co-ruler of Cintra. The money from your mines could help rebuild what was destroyed during the capture of the city into a city of great exception. You, Queen Seirsa of Kaedwen, would become one of the most powerful women in the whole world and everyone would bow down to you. This can only happen if you help us if we go. Otherwise, King Vizimir would take Cintra alone and wipe out all traces of your lineage from history." Not accepting the threats, Seirsa stood up, her eyebrows furrowed as if ready to fight. She turned to the king, glaring at him, waiting for him to rebuke his advisor for his bad behavior.

Suppressing her anger so as not to make the situation worse, her hands tightened. It was obvious that King Vizimir was controlled by his advisor, which was why he had not been indignant about Dijkstra's threats. She couldn't help but think of her son, it was obvious from his physical form and demeanor that he had not lost his life simply by accident. As she sat back down, the young woman turned solely to the king.

"Let's say I manage to convince my husband to participate in your... reconquest of Cintra. That he agrees, and we win this battle, what guarantees do I have that you will not turn against the Kaedwen?" Dijkstra placed one of his hands on the back of the chair the young queen was sitting in while the second was resting on the king's desk, preventing Seirsa from leaving the room.

"You will have to trust us. But think how sad it would be if your grandson ended up like his father."

[Cedrel] - Seirsa, stay strong. Don't let him get to you, you know he won't. Accept his proposal, in case it's a trap, you know perfectly well that we have the means to intervene.

[Nareth] - Even if he doesn't betray us, and I doubt it, we will take Cintra... and Redania.

Contrary to what the counselor expected to see on the face of the young queen he liked to threaten, Seirsa smiled a little at what Nareth had just suggested to her. Kaedwen could certainly not claim to be invading Redania, but with the necessary forces, anything becomes possible.

"I promise you to tell King Henselt of your proposal, he will make the decision himself..."

"On your wise advice I hope so." Vizimir spoke, at last, rising to offer his guest his hand and escorting her to the door "...He only listens to me anyway. I'll let him think about it and we'll talk about it again over a map of the territories." Placing a kiss on the back of her hand again, the king smiled at her, pleased with the encounter before his advisor faced a curtsy in thanks and farewell.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #vizimir II #sigismund dijkstra #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines

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