#sad niece ciri

[tielmamon]

They stiffle another set of giggles as Jaskier and Ciri hide behind a few trees, spying on Geralt and Yen as they navigate their complicated little partnership once again. The young warrior bites her tongue, beaming at how Jaskier pitches his voice a few octaves higher, trying and failing to mimic Yen. In her opinion, she's say he sounds more like he's been kicked in the balls than anything else.

"You're unbelivable!" He shakes his head dramatically.

"You're delusional!" She almost coughs at the gruffness of her own voice.

They smile and for once in a long, long time Ciri feels...light. She feels like she's actually 15 and not the continent's number one target or the actual harbinger of the apocalypse. She sees Jaskier smile as bright as sunshine, in Geralt's words though she might just secure her death if she ever told anyone that. Not for the first time, she feels an immese wave of gratitute towards him. This silly man who always tries, no matter how grim and depressing everything gets, to make her smile. To reassure her, to talk to her as simply her- not a witcher in training, not a novice mage, not a future queen-to-be.

Once upon a time, she might have hated him for speaking to her like this, like she was a child. Now? She finds herself deeply comforted by that, by him and his words.

She suspects Geralt felt a similar sentiment when he and Jaskier travelled together.

In the distance, they see Yen reach to cradle Geralt's cheek, the other leaning into her touch. Such a horridly cheesy scene to witness, Ciri thinks with a hint of fondness and alot of disgust for her parents-of-suprise. Another quip forms on her tongue but just as it escapes, she turns to her companion and-

Oh.

His face falls, demeanor more serious and...sad. Ciri, with creeping concern realizes that his eyes turn glassy. Jaskier's eyes stay glued on the pair, in a way that is tired. Like he's seen this moment a thousand times before.

"I forgive you...for your various foolish words and deeds. For your lack of faith and hope. For your obstinancy. Doggedness..." This time, Jaskier says these words in his own voice, slightly shakey and whispered. At this point, Ciri is no longer looking at the pair infront of them. She's seen the same forlorn look on both of her parent's faces before, when they were hopping between homes. Everytime Yen looks at Geralt when he doesn't let her in the house. Everytime Geralt reads another letter tacked on the door smelling of lilac and gooseberries.

Everytime she asks Geralt why he stopped travelling with his bard after decades of companionship.

Heartbreak. That's what Jaskier looks like, Ciri realizes. Suddenly, she's overcome with the urge to hug the man beside her, comfort him like how he has to her. The two kiss and she doesn't dare look at Jaskier when they do.

"Jaskier?" She notes the heavy pause before he eventually answers.

"Yes, dear?" He's smiling again, she can hear. How real it is, she can't say. Reaching for his arm, she squeezes.

"Let's go. I'm bored." She hears a chuckle before she feels him get up. They both can't help but glance back at the couple once more, now in an intimate embrace. Ciri pushes the bard towards their cottage, ignoring the sniffle she hears or the quick wipe of hid cheek disgused as a scratch.

"Come on, you deviant." They walk back to the cottage in silence.

Part 2 (x)

#geraskier #the witcher #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #geralt x jaskier #geralt #little fix it #is it a fix it if its still sad? #sad uncle jaskier #sad niece ciri #the pining was so strong during this scene #fanfic

[essskel]

the whole ‘Eskel is a better witcher than Geralt’ stuff has always made me more sad than anything else. Geralt’s arc as a character is the building acceptance that even though he was raised a witcher and the profession is part of him : he’s a human, and he’s happy to be one.

but Eskel is a witcher. He’s not just ‘better’ at killing monsters he’s ‘better’ at wearing the title. He truly does work to cap his emotions, to succumb to the 9-5, to accept that his mutations make him something separate from the human he was born as.

He sees the stereotypes and the stigmatization of witchering and he only allows himself to step outside these forced boundaries when prompted by Geralt, Lambert, or Ciri, and even then he makes it clear that he’s making an exception.

And that’s not to say his moments of vulnerability and human connection are unnatural to him, he feels love and is drawn to protect those that he loves same as Geralt, but he’s out of practice in acting on these emotions because he’s a case study in survival repression.

He never solidifies a relationship with Ciri in the way Lambert does (in the books), he’s not even shown goofing around with her like Coën. He’s kind to her and he loves her and he goes on to put his life on the line to save her, but the vastness of his self-imposed missed opportunities is sickening. And that’s not even touching on the decay of his relationship with Lambert, or his white-knuckle grip on Vesemir.

Eskel is a good fucking witcher, he’ll dispose of your monsters faster and cleaner than his brothers ever will. But when his niece starts reminiscing on her favorite memories from childhood, he’ll be waiting a long damn time before she says his name.

#his vacant relationship with ciri genuinely haunts my waking dreams OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDD #please don’t take this post as ‘anti-eskel’ he’s literally my url. i’m just being sad abt him bc he makes me sad #eskel #witcher eskel #kaer morons #the witcher #the witcher games #lambert #double shot

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Winter Prompts Day 2: Mistletoe 🌲

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Warning(s): none

Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier thinks he’s sneaky trying to set up Ciri and Cerys, but with some help, they beat him at his own game.

Jaskier thinks it's cute, the way Ciri and Cerys dance around each other. He knows the feeling, remembers a time when he and Pri were just like them and part of him misses it. His own romantic life now is indescribably dull and even if he and Pri didn't work out in the long run, he misses the exhilaration of new love. He misses the fun of the chase, the flutter of butterflies every time you see them, the thrill of a first kiss. Jaskier sighs from his spot in the main hall, watching the way Ciri ducks her head when she laughs at Cerys' jokes. Well, he supposes, if he can't enjoy any of this any longer, he may as well do something for his niece. 

Jaskier's first thought is to trap them somewhere together, but then the servants start bringing in decorations for the holiday and he has a better idea. He gets a sprig of mistletoe from a pretty young woman who's pinning it up around the exterior of the castle. She offers him a sweet smile, but Jaskier slips away quietly. As much as he misses the fun of the dance that is new love, his heart has long belonged to someone else and no pretty smile is going to change that. He just hopes that for Ciri and Cerys, this blossoming romance will last, that neither of them need experience the pain and sadness of unrequited love. 

Jaskier pauses halfway across the entryway, stopping to collect himself before heading back inside. There are people moving about everywhere and he slips amongst the crowd to try and find the girls, wherever they've hidden themselves away. Supper will be served shortly, so he considers hiding outside Ciri's room and catching them unexpectedly, but there's no telling how long he'll be waiting for them. 

He's considering where to strike first when he spots them in the hall, coming toward him and he tucks the sprig behind his back, waiting for them to approach. Ciri smiles at him as she gets closer and Jaskier pulls the mistletoe out, dangling it above her head.

"What's this?" he grins, casting a quick glance at Cerys before looking back at Ciri.

Ciri just quirks an eyebrow at him before tugging him close and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. 

"Mistletoe, looks like," she smiles and Jaskier sighs, defeated. 

As Cerys passes, she pats him on the shoulder and Jaskier frowns to himself. He'll have to think of something really clever. 

But everything he comes up with seems to just get turned around on him. By the time everyone is settling after supper, he's been kissed on the cheek more times than he can count, and once gathered up into a firm hug by Eskel and kissed rather sweetly on the nose. He appreciates it, he does; he knows this little family is full of tricks and Ciri and Cerys are so proud of themselves, but they don't know Jaskier is just trying to help. 

They eat supper in silence but Jaskier is thinking about how to get them alone and once they've finished, the girls disappear on him again. Eventually, Jaskier gives in and turns to Eskel for help. 

"I am the fun uncle," he says, "and they're beating me at my own game."

"Why don't you stick it up in the hall? At this point, they'll know it was you - and they can kiss in private without the entire household around."

Jaskier sighs. Maybe Eskel is right; as much as he'd like to be there, so they know it was his doing, the girls deserve their privacy. 

"Might need your help," he says, "don't know if I can reach that high on my own."

"Glad to help," Eskel says, "you want to get set up now?"

"Mm, yeah, before drinks and desserts are served."

Eskel goes with him down to the main hall. There are only two entries from Ciri's bedroom so she'll have to come down this way and will surely pass under the mistletoe on her way. And Cerys hasn't left her side since they first got here, so Jaskier has no doubt they'll be together now. 

Eskel boosts him up to nail the sprig of mistletoe to the ceiling and just as he's finished it, Jaskier hears a hey, Geralt from below him and his stomach drops out. He squirms and Eskel sets him back on his feet, but then Eskel is ducking away and Geralt is just staring at him. His eyes lift to the ceiling and Jaskier follows them straight up to the mistletoe, hanging directly above his own head and oh. He's been set up. 

There's a faint giggling from behind him and when Jaskier turns he finds Ciri grinning back at him, Cerys' arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder. 

"Well, go on," Eskel prompts, "it's tradition after all."

"Yeah," Cerys agrees, "you wouldn't want to mess with tradition would you, Geralt?"

For a moment, Jaskier thinks Geralt is going to leave, but then he takes a step forward and Jaskier's mouth goes dry. Oh no no no, this is very bad. He can't let this happen. He can't let Geralt kiss him like this, with everyone around when he- Jaskier chokes on a breath but then Geralt's fingers are under his chin, tipping it up so they're face-to-face.

"It's okay," he whispers, so softly that Jaskier barely hears him and Jaskier nods faintly, barely aware of the motion himself. 

Then Geralt's lips press against his own and Jaskier can't hear the cheering over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. His heart pounds against his ribs, so hard and so fast that he's sure it will beat right out of his chest. But Geralt lifts his palm to press over it and his thumb shifts comfortingly in Jaskier's shirt. Jaskier settles, loosening up under the touch, but then Geralt pushes forward, deepening the kiss and sighing softly against him and Jaskier could cry. 

He doesn't think before wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and then one strong arm curls around Jaskier's waist, bringing him flush against Geralt's body. Geralt's lips slide against his own and Jaskier moves instinctively, sinking into the kiss and kissing him back hard. He pours all of his longing and want into it, not realizing until it's too late that there are tears streaming down his face. 

Geralt only breaks the kiss when Jaskier absolutely needs to breathe and when he does, they're both panting slightly. Geralt reaches up, running his thumb under Jaskier's eye and brushing away the tears still lingering there. 

"Hey," he whispers and when Jaskier looks up at him, he becomes acutely aware that everyone else is gone. 

"Wha-" he starts, but Geralt just bumps their noses together and walks him back against the wall, pinning Jaskier against it with his body. 

"We've been set up," he whispers and Jaskier nods, understanding. 

"Yeah."

"I didn't think you-"

"Always," Jaskier confirms.

"I knew you stopped seeing the others, but I thought you were just getting old and tired," Geralt teases and fresh tears spring to Jaskier's eyes. 

"I'm hardly old," he argues, but the smile on his lips refuses to fade and he tugs Geralt forward again, pressing a trembling kiss to his lips. 

"You're going grey."

"You're one to talk," Jaskier scoffs and Geralt grins as he kisses him again, deep and loving. And it's far from Jaskier's first kiss, but it's more exciting, more thrilling than all the rest combined.

#geraskier #ciri x cerys #rex writes #the witcher

[ihyperfixatedtoohard]

The witcher season 2 episode 4 (and maybe a little bit of 3? I don't think so? But maybe? I stopped and started the epsilon a lot so they kind of ran together)

My toxic trait is thinking that I could run the gauntlet on my first try

THEY KILLED OFF THE MUTE ELF?!

I LOVED HIM

... Jaskier?

Is

The sand piper?!?!?!?

I love him

Triss is into some freaky shit

Did Coen replace Eskel? He's cool

Geralt's going to Cintra? 👀👀👀👀

Poor Geralt and his portal sickness :(

"I'm going to do what i do best" "what is it?" "Idk."

Jaskier's interaction with the 'papers please' reminds me too much of when I went to church and said I liked a thing and old people would be like, "Wow. My great great great great great great great great great grand-niece's best friend's sister's cousin's dog's neighbor's goldfish really likes that thing."

..... Different timelines? I feel attacked. I stand by that it being out of order is very confusing. Give us a fucking date.

God damn it jaskier

The elf dude couldn't have had balls when his friend was getting McMurdered?

.... Oh. Poor guy. This reminds me when I started cackling about Yennefer's baby getting set on fire. It was so sudden. My friend (the main mod) was not pleased.

.... Do more Witchers get made since Ciri bleeds?

FUCKDUFKFUCKFUCK

I WAS JOKING

VEZIMIR! NO! I KNOWNYOURE GREIVIJG, BUT NO

Oh hey! That's Ciri's elf friend! Has It really been that long since the first season? He looked like he was 10, now he looks like he's in his late teens.

Why is he (Jaskier) being so nice to the person he called his enemy?

Speaking of enemies, if Valdo somehow shows up, I really hope it's just Joey Batey with a fake mustache

I feel like they're about to kiss

They did not kiss. I'm not really sure what I was expecting.

NOT HIS LUTE!

:(

Sad song. I love him. Geralt, why did you hurt him? He didnt deserve it.

Also can you tell i stole this idea from the main mod? But only halfway through this episode?

#julian alfred pankratz #geralt of rivia #witcher #geraskier #joey batey #the witcher netflix #the witcher season 2 #witcher season 2 #season 2 spoilers #season 2 episode 4 #s2e4 #witcher s2 spoilers #spoiler #witcher spoilers #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #Yennefer #yennefer/jaskier

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [ Pt. 10 ]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

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

Warnings: Idek?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh stop it grandmother, not again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Geralt, can you please not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jaskier isn't always wrong."

"Hey! I am NEVER wrong—"

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

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

"We all thought you were dead, Princess."

You looked at him in disbelief; he knew?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here, sweet child?"

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

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

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

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

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

You looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

"I'm fine, mother."

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

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

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

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

"Mother—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?"

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

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

"Couldn't sleep.. "

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

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

"No, the baby is okay."

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

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

"Mine too."

"In what way?"

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

"I see her as a monster."

"Not your lover?" You mumbled.

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

He shook his head as he took a deep breath.

He smelled of ale and the forest— of nature.

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

"Until when?"

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

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

"What?" You asked.

"Do you regret this?"

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

Did you regret it?

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

"Meeting me I mean."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Vessel Taglist:

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

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

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today

A Downward Goat ficlet for @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo. This can be read without reading the rest of the series; all you need to know is that Eskel is a goat farmer, Jaskier is a yoga instructor, and they’re in love.

Prompt: Anniversary

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Additional Tags: AU- Modern Setting, Proposals, Tooth-rotting fluff, Lil Bleater being a certified menace

Summary: When Eskel decides to propose to Jaskier on their anniversary, Lil Bleater throws an (adorable) wrench in his plans.

Deciding that he wants to propose to Jaskier is easy. In fact, it may be the easiest decision Eskel has ever made. He’s known Jaskier for a year and a half, been dating him for nearly a year, and has known that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him for months now.

It’s deciding how to propose that’s the tricky part.

“I think you should jump out of a plane,” Ciri tells him with authority.

Eskel blinks down at his niece. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, you would have a parachute, obviously. You propose to him mid-air!”

“And what if I drop the ring? It could end up anywhere.” Eskel shudders at the thought. “Plus, I don’t think Jaskier likes heights.”

“You mean you don’t like heights?” Vesemir asks dryly.

It’s one of the rare family dinners that Jaskier hasn’t attended in the time he and Eskel have been together— he’s away with some friends for the weekend— so Eskel took the opportunity to tell his family about his plans to propose. Naturally, they have opinions.

“You could try skywriting.” Lambert throws his arm around Aiden’s shoulder. “That’s how I was going to propose, but it was too damn expensive.”

“Such a romantic.” Aiden pats his husband’s arm.

“Hey, I ended up being pretty fucking romantic with that fancy dinner out. The sparkling wine, the roses, the dessert. You didn’t have any complaints.”

“No, sure didn’t.” From Aiden’s wolfish grin, Eskel doubts the dessert was a piece of chocolate cake, but he really doesn’t want to know more.

Eskel can’t see himself getting down on one knee at a restaurant, with other people watching. He doesn’t want one of the most special moments of his life to be on display. “Geralt, how did you propose again?”

Yennefer snorts. “How do you think? We were doing our taxes one year and he looked over at me and said, ‘We should get married. It will make this easier.’”

“Dad!” Ciri shrieks.

Geralt’s cheeks turn pink. “It does make taxes easier.”

“Always knew he married you for your money, Yenn,” Lambert says cheerfully, which earns him raised middle fingers from both Yennefer and Geralt when Ciri isn’t looking.

Eskel looks to Vesemir, hoping for some sanity, but his father only shrugs. “Don’t look at me, son. I’ve never proposed to anyone and I don’t intend to. That goat would be more help.”

They all look at Lil Bleater, who is asleep in the corner. Sometime around when Jaskier moved in with Eskel, Lil Bleater decided she wanted to be an indoor goat instead of living in the barn with the other animals. Between her sad eyes and Jaskier’s even sadder eyes, Eskel couldn’t resist. Jaskier even dresses her in cute little outfits (most of which she ends up eating.)

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Triss asks.

Eskel nods. Next month will be a year to the day that Jaskier came over for their first date. Their anniversary will fall on a Monday, so they’re planning a quiet night in.

“My brother proposed to his girlfriend on their anniversary,” she says. “He tied a sign reading ‘Will you marry us?’ and the ring box around their dog’s neck and had it waiting by the door when she got home from work.”

“Did she say yes?” Lambert asks.

“Of course she said yes,” Triss says. “Who says no to an adorable little dog? The dog was their ring bearer too.”

“Huh.” Eskel glances back at Lil Bleater, the beginning of a plan starting to form in his mind.

***

Lil Bleater, certified menace that she is, is at least capable of looking downright angelic. With the wooden sign around her neck— crafted by an old friend of Eskel’s— reading Will you marry me? and the blue velvet ring box tied to her collar with a ribbon, she looks adorable. She even has little ribbons tied around her ears. Eskel finds himself smiling stupidly down at her. When she bleats at him in annoyance, he slips her a carrot.

“Alright,” he says. “All you have to do is stand here, look cute, and not get into any trouble in the next fifteen minutes.”

For their anniversary, Eskel has pulled out all the stops— all of Jaskier’s favorite foods, dessert from Jaskier’s favorite bakery in Ard Carraigh, candlelight, and flowers.

Now all he needs is his boyfriend.

As if on cue, Eskel hears the front door fly open and Jaskier call out, “Melitele’s tits, what a day.”

“Oh?” Eskel tosses a handful of carrots into the living room and Lil Bleater hurries after them, out of sight. He goes into the foyer and has to put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

“Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t funny!” Jaskier plants his hands on his hips in mock indignance. The front of his bright yellow tank top and blue leggings patterned with sunflowers are covered in a revolting-looking greenish brown stain.

Eskel snorts. “What happened?”

“A seven dollar organic kale smoothie and an errant car door being thrown open into a poor, hapless pedestrian’s path.” Jaskier looks down at himself in despair. “Don’t come near me. I smell like kale and shame.”

Eskel goes to kiss him. “Smell fine to me. Better than after you help me muck out the stables.”

“Ha.” Jaskier presses a kiss to his nose. “Cruelty from the man I love, after the day I’ve had. I had to sit through two lectures and teach a yoga class like this, Eskel. I look like a goat shat on me.”

“Does it help that I made pierogies?”

“Oh, it certainly does.” Jaskier kisses him again. “Hold that thought, I need to take a shower.”

“I told you, you smell fine,” Eskel says.

“Yes, but I’m so tired of being sticky.” Jaskier shudders dramatically. “I’ll be two minutes.”

“You’ve never taken a two minute shower in your life.”

Jaskier doesn’t protest that, just makes a face at him and saunters up the steps. Eskel watches him go, really hoping that those leggings are salvageable.

This wasn’t in the plan. He was hoping to usher Jaskier into the living room and get down on one knee to propose right away. Now he has to wait. Eskel isn’t an impatient man but the thought of going another twenty or thirty minutes without asking the question is excruciating.

He busies himself by wiping down the already spotless counter twice, lighting a few more candles, readjusting the bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table. He sweeps the already spotless floor and organizes the junk drawer and straightens the magnets on the fridge.

It’s only then that he realizes that he hasn’t heard a peep from Lil Bleater since Jaskier got home.

That is never a good sign.

Eskel goes into the living room and steps dead in the doorway. The sturdy wooden sign that was just hanging around Lil Bleater’s neck is almost gone. All that’s left is the Will and part of a M.

“Bleats,” Eskel whispers, horrified.

Lil Bleater chews unrepentantly at him.

It’s only then that he notices that the ring box, still dangling from the goat’s collar, is open. The ring is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh no.” Eskel rushes towards her. “No, no, no.”

He checks her mouth, but all that’s in there is some wood pulp. Scrambling across the hardwood floor, he searches for a glimpse of silver or sapphire. There’s nothing, just some dust bunnies. His heart is in his throat . Meanwhile, Lil Bleater has started obliviously munching on the M.

“What are you looking for?” Eskel looks up to see Jaskier standing in the doorway, hair still damp and face flushed from the shower.

“Uh, nothing,” he says. “Just give me a minute.”

“What is Lil Bleater eating?” Jaskier squints at the goat. “Will M?”

Eskel swallows. This is spinning wildly out of control. Honestly, is there anything that Lil Bleater won’t eat? “Uh…”

Jaskier crouches down to pick something up. It’s only when he sees the glint of silver that Eskel realizes it’s the engagement ring. Eskel’s relief that Lil Bleater didn’t eat the ring is quickly supplanted by the panic that Jaskier is the one who found it.

Jaskier looks between Lil Bleater and her dinner, Eskel, and the ring. His eyes go wide and a slow smile spreads across his face.

At the sight of that smile, all of Eskel’s anxiety vanishes. It’s impossible to feel anything but love and joy when Jaskier is smiling at him like that. Jaskier is standing there with the ring Eskel chose for him in his hands and he’s looking at Eskel with such unabashed adoration that it takes Eskel’s breath away.

He’s already down on his knees, so Eskel looks up at the man he loves and says, “Jaskier—”

He doesn’t get a chance to get the words out before Jaskier drops to his knees in front of Eskel and kisses him, laughing breathlessly between kisses. “Yes,” Jaskier whispers.

Eskel huffs out a laugh and gathers Jaskier into his arms. He had a whole speech planned and he still tries to gasp it out between kisses, “The last year has been the best of my life. Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you.” Most of the words are muffled by Jaskier’s mouth on his, but he thinks Jaskier gets the gist.

“Did you really give Lil Bleater a wooden sign?” Jaskier asks when he finally pulls away.

Eskel leans his forehead against Jaskier’s. “It seemed like a good idea at a time.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t eat the ring too.”

“I’ll plan my next proposal better.”

“Don’t you dare.”

When Eskel kisses him again, he finds that Jaskier’s cheeks are wet with tears. But when he pulls back to make sure Jaskier is okay, he finds that his boyfriend— no, his fiance— is still smiling, eyes shining.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells him and Eskel pulls him in for another kiss.

They hold each other for a long time, laughing and crying and kissing.

Meanwhile, Lil Bleater continues to happily eat the rest of the sign.

***

@sternenstaub28 @tsukiwolf42 @maya-the-yellow-bee @eyesofshinigami @wrenbug @buttercupsanddandelions @dragonheart905 @atahensic @myidlehand @aqueersighttoseeindeed  @frenchkey @goldandlights @anythinggoesfandoms @frywen-babbles  @marvagon @wellthisstinks @moonlightcrazyphoenix  @seraphim-miryam @contemplativepancakes @kueble

#the witcher #jaskel #jeskel #eskel x jaskier #eskel/jaskier #eskel #jaskier #my fic #my writing #downward goat au

[narniaandplowmen]

It is not that I love you less / Than when before your feet I lay (But to prevent the sad increase / Of hopeless love, I keep away)

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 2154 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

Part 2 of Half a Century of Poetry

Jaskier, back in Lettenhove for the winter, considers how Geralt's words on the Mountain were unfair, but that nothing on this world can stop him from loving the Witcher anyways.

They had talked, after the Mountain. Or, well, Jaskier had talked. Geralt had been about to leave when Jaskier finally made his way down, exhausted and devastated and wounded from the lonely, perilous journey downhill. It was clear that Geralt had wanted to avoid him, but Roach, always a sucker for the sweet sugar cubes and shining apples the bard usually carried with him, had approached Jaskier on her own free will. And he had to say something, he couldn’t just stay silent. So he had given a promise. I will not come to you, but if you ever change your mind I should not be hard to find. 

And so he had. There was much that could be said about the bard, about his extravagance and tendency to ignore the rules. But if Jaskier made a promise, he made sure to keep it. Which is why he almost never made promises, regardless of what other people might think he did. Answering ‘sure’ to ‘will you promise to stay behind whilst I fulfil this contract’ meant that he is open to making that promise, but not that he is actually making it. Being part-Fae, fully noble and just generally a little shit made Jaskier proficient in finding loopholes in his so-called promises. But this? This was a real promise. And he had kept to it.

It was winter, and Jaskier had returned to Lettenhove to reunite with his sister and his nieces and nephews. The little kids were elated to see their favourite (and only) uncle, and although his brother-in-law - who had married quite above his station and continually feared Jaskier would reclaim his rightful place as heir - was less happy to see him return, his sister had welcomed him with open arms. The lands of Lettenhove looked gorgeous in the shimmering snow, white like- Jaskier bit his lip, an awful habit he had picked up since-

 Avoiding the thought was hopeless. He had tried everything to distract himself, but nothing could take away his endless, hopeless, futile lover for Geralt of Rivia, friend of humanity. His sister had noticed, of course. Damn observant, that woman. She had always been, but Jaskier was sure it had gotten even worse now that she was a mother. The Fae blood probably didn’t help either. 

‘Why don’t you write it out? That always helped you when you were younger,’ she had said one day, breaking through Jaskier’s musings of how the colour of her dress reminded him of Geralt’s eyes.

‘You don’t have to share it with me, or anyone, if you don’t want to. But it might help.’ 

So here he was, sitting in the manor’s humble library overseeing the snow-covered vineyard, with a quill in hand and paper in front of him like he was twelve, whilst longingly staring at his baby brother, who now lied next to his parents in graves covered in snow,  and younger sister, who were allowed to play outside whilst he was forced to make his homework. Now he looked down at a new generation of children. One day he had wished he could have some of his own, and he could not deny that, after Geralt had accidentally ended up with a child surprise, he had dreamed of the three of them forming a family. Nothing now could be further from the truth. Instead of living in a cottage near the sea, Geralt retiring from his Witcher business to open a smithy, Jaskier opening a school and them raising the adorable Ciri together, Geralt had refused to claim his promised child, shunned Jaskier from his life and gone off to who-knew-where to, as far as Jaskier knew, continue killing monsters for little pay. He had not come to apologise, not come to ask Jaskier to rejoin him, not come to find him at all. And so, Jaskier had kept his promise. And Jaskier had kept away. If only his heart would get the message, too. 

It is not that I love you less

Than when before your feet I lay,

But to prevent the sad increase

Of hopeless love, I keep away.

Carefully placing his quill back in the inkpot, Jaskier resumed his watch over the playful children in the snow. They had found some sticks now, and were playfighting. From his third-floor window he could hear fragments of their conversation.

‘You -- monster!’

‘I wanna be the Witch--’

‘--ys get to be the Witcher!’

‘Because the Witchers are -- cle Jaskier says so!’

‘I don’t want to be a kimimomo! I don’t want to be the bad --’

Jaskier smiled at little John’s mispronunciation of the monster’s name. The kids, inspired by Jaskier’s songs, had taken to playing ‘Wicher and Monster’, with dramatic fake-out deaths and some accidental real injuries. It seemed that, even in the quiet, boring lands of Lettenhove, Jaskier could not avoid being reminded of the man he loved so dearly. The snow as white as his hair, his sister’s yellow dresses, the wolf statues at the entrance of the property, the children’s play, the notes with unfinished lyrics describing Geralt’s heroic actions Jaskier had left behind during previous stays… Every day there was something, no matter how small, that reminded him of the man he had lost. The soup that tasted exactly like that served in the inn where he had first been allowed to wash the Witcher’s hair. The snide remarks from his brother-in-law that seemed to come straight from Geralt’s vocabulary.  Filavandrel’s lute, greeting him whenever he entered his room. Everything around him was another tiny dagger piercing through his skin, making its way to his heart and cutting yet another piece of it in half. 

In vain (alas!) for everything

Which I have known belong to you,

Your form does to my fancy bring,

And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

It had been late spring when they had parted. It felt like they had barely reunited after winter, during which Geralt had visited his strange Witcher castle Jaskier was never invited to and Jaskier had spent his days teaching Ciri and nights playing his music at the Cintran court. And although he loved the court, Calanthe’s murderous glares when he accidentally mentioned Geralt had made him nervous enough to be happy when spring arrived and he could leave again, back on the road, following the person holding his rapidly-beating heart without even being aware of it. The dragon hunt had only been their fourth contract of the year, and after- After, when summer still stretched in front of him for another six long months, everything had felt off. 

Sure, he had travelled, sang his songs at inns and bars and the occasional manor. Sure, he had met up with other bards, competed in a couple of sing-offs, written a handful of new songs which gained instant popularity. Sure, he had lived the life any normal, travelling bard did. But he wasn’t normal now, was he. He was Jaskier, Bard Extraordinaire, the best songwriter and lute-player on the Continent. His audience’s words, not his. He knew there was always something to be improved upon: a lyric that could be better, a beat he missed, a chord he botched. His audience might not notice, but he most certainly did. He would make quite an awful bard if he didn’t, after all. So, even though he did everything any other travelling bard would do, those six months had been strange. He had automatically found himself drawn to notice boards, turning around to inform Geralt of a contract only to be, once again, reminded the man was not there. No rhythmic sound of hooves touching the dirt during the day, no scraping noise of someone sharpening their sword near the campfire during the evening, and just his own breath breaking the silence of the night. It had been as if the world was ill, asleep in bed trying to fend off a fever that caused strange, surreal visions that gave everything normal a slightly sickly hue. Maybe his sister was right, maybe writing would help heal his broken heart.

Who in the spring from the new sun

Already has a fever got,

Too late begins those shafts to shun,

Which Phœbus through his veins has shot.

The playful screams of the children in the snow briefly silenced as the cheery voice of Molly the Cook called out that dinner was almost done. Jaskier knew that one of the kids would knock on his door soon, giving Uncle Jaskier the same message. Three stanzas in just as many hours, a poor yield for a poet of his stature. A sudden rage overtook him as he looked down at the half-empty paper. The words Geralt had thrown at him on the Mountain had felt fair at first, but after moping about them for while, Jaskier had realised that Geralt had been incredibly unfair. Him, shovelling Geralt’s shit? Yes, shovelling it out of his stable and onto the compost pile where it belonged. It was Geralt who created the shit around him, making stupid wishes that endangered the people around him, invoking the law of surprise less than fifteen minutes after learning Parvetta was a child surprise herself. Surely the Witcher knew that child surprises tended to give birth to child surprises, surely he smelled that Parvetta was pregnant to begin with. Even Jaskier had noticed that Parvetta had worn an unusual, slightly-out-of-style dress clearly intended to hide her abdomen. If Geralt had not been so incredibly self-centred, so incredibly self-absorbed and emotionally stunted he would have realised that his words were absolute bullshit. It had been Jaskier who had calmed Calanthe enough to not send hundreds of assassins after Geralt. It had been Jaskier who had tried to take the djinn away so the clearly exhausted Witcher would not do anything stupid. His wishes might have sounded idiotic, but they were clearly and precisely phrased, his mother had taught him enough about Fae magic for him to know djinns were just as tricky, if not worse, to deal with. Yes, Jaskier had shovelled the shit, but it was not his fault Geralt liked to dive into every single heap of manure he met. So no, what Geralt had said had not been fair. But by the time Jaskier had gathered enough of his wits to realise that, the Witcher had long been gone, and Jaskier’s promise had already been made. 

Too late he would the pain assuage,

And to thick shadows does retire;

About with him he bears the rage,

And in his tainted blood the fire.

The sound of a wildly thrown-open door and a young boy’s voice shouting his name calmed the bard’s sudden anger. 

‘UNCLE JASKIER DINNER’S READY MOLLY SAYS YOU NEED TO WASH YOUR HANDS!’ Little John, still carrying his stick, now ran into view. 

‘Did Molly also say you were allowed to take your sword inside?’

‘A Witcher always carries his swords with him, you told me so! And I am a Witcher, not a stupid kimino- kimomo-’

‘Kikimore,’ Jaskier helpfully supplied.

‘Yes that. Will you tell Eddy? Will you tell him I’m a Witcher? I don’t want to be a monster, the snow is cold and wet when I fall down to die.’ 

Jaskier smiled at his youngest nephew’s petulant face. ‘Only if you put your sword back outside. True gentlemen don’t carry their swords to the dinner table, not even Witchers. Come, we’ll place it in the stables to keep it safe, and then we go wash our hands together, okay?’

‘Okay, uncle Jaskier. Can I sit next to you during dinner?’

‘Of course you can.’

Jaskier smiled at the young boy stretching out his arms to be picked up. If only life could stay that easy, with simple concerns like cold snow and fake swords. Jaskier knew, after all,  it was impossible for him to stay angry. How could he hate the one he loved? The one who had, unknowingly, carried his heart for the past two decades, and would carry it for eternity and beyond? He would keep his promise to the Witcher, he would stay in his self-imposed exile, no matter the cost. A promise is a promise, after all. And just as he would keep the promise he had made to Geralt whilst feeding Roach that final, slightly crushed sugar cube, he would keep the promise he had made to himself whilst walking down the first mountain he and the Witcher had climbed to fight a supposed devil. I will love you till my dying days. 

And, as he placed his nephew on his back, joking that ‘this horse will lead the noble Witcher to the stables,’ Jaskier mentally composed the final stanza he had struggled with for so many hours. 

But vow’d I have, and never must

Your banish’d servant trouble you;

For if I break, you may distrust

The vow I made to love you, too.

#the witcher #the witcher ff #the witcher fanfic #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier ff #written by me #made by me #It is not that I love you less / Than when before your feet I lay (But to prevent the sad increase / Of hopeless love I keep away) #it is not that i love you less #onceuponadisneypotter #Half a Century of Poetry

[finstermond]

Witcher Ranch AU

Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer of Vengerberg

Ciri, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Jaskier

---

Geralt gazed upon the vast grassland that belonged to him - or the horses, as he would say. It had belonged to his father before he gifted him his inheritance early as a wedding gift.

Almost hidden by the bushes grazed some of the horses. He could see two heads of adult ones and one of a foal but only one of the adult heads was discernible. A white mare - Endrega, he was sure of it. What a beautiful one. Her fur glistered in the sun as fresh snow. Riding her canter felt as if riding a breeze.

The Morhen Ranch bred horses for some generations now. It was his life, the only one he knew. The only one he ever wanted to know.

“Hey,” his brother Eskel disturbed his thoughts, “think you can actually hold the post or do you want to keep looking at the horses and make your wife jealous?”

Geralt grunted and readjusted his grip. Eskel sighed and struck the hammer on the post.

“Thank you, Eskel.” said Geralt.

“No problem, it’s my job after all. If your son can’t even hold a post up I need to chime in!” teased Eskel his older brother. “Ah fuck you,” answered Geralt, “you know his mother wanted to show him something today.” They walked back to their horses and put the hammer, the old posts they had renewed now, planks and the nails back in the cart Eskel’s pinto was strapped to. Eskel’s wolfdog Bann waddled his tail, ready to run back to the farm.

“She did?” asked Eskel while mounting. Geralt went up to his riding horse Roach. Originally he wanted to name all horses Roach - followed by numbers. Several people intervened. The brown mare greeted him with a soft snort.

“Yeah, she took all of the kids with her after school. They’re riding to see a plant that only blooms for a few days a year.”

“Flowers?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t understand your wife.” Geralt squinted towards Eskel.

“Rarely anyone does.”

---

“Daddy!” a wall of shouts arrived Geralt as he came back from the field. Eskel had taken a turn to look for the chicken fence. Geralt almost didn’t manage to climb down from Roach before a wall of children hugged him. Well, apart from his oldest son, Eric, who had a phase of being too cool for his dad. He had his arms crossed, smiled nonetheless and stood close. It was understandable behaviour being 13 and all but Geralt couldn’t stop being a tad bit sad about it. At the same time he mirrored his mother so much. A gaze that could kill, hair as black as the night, his smile. Apart from that his stature was more like his. He’d grow up to be broad and tall, Geralt was sure of it. The second eldest, Leo was 11 and like a younger twin to his brother. It seemed like he’d grow even taller for he was about the height Eric had been a year ago. Casimir - their third son - just turned eight and currently wants to grow long hair which keeps getting into his face. Geralt kneeled down to pick up Roger, their youngest son at five who was born hunched and tried not to groan. Gwyn, their only daughter at age seven - and a mirror to her mother in all but character - took the chance of her dad kneeling and gave Geralt a peck on his cheek. She had made her brothers flower crowns which all of them - except Eric who had it bound to his belt - proudly wore. Gwyn handed her father one sheepishly. “I made you one too!” she exclaimed. Geralt happily tried to put it on but his daughter had over measured his head and it was more of a necklace. He beamed nonetheless and walked towards the main house, children following him. Eric ran behind after he finished unsaddling Roach and let her into the paddock.

Nearing the house, Geralt smelled stew and got excited. With his free hand he opened the door, put out his boots and walked towards the kitchen. “I’m home!” he exclaimed.

Two of the kids detached from him and ran towards the stew and the raven haired woman standing before the pot.

Yennefer turned around and greeted Geralt with a fleeting smile and a kiss. The kids all let an exasperated “Ew” be known.

She looked him up and down, noted his necklace and grinned wickedly, “Your daughter thinks you’re bigheaded.” she said. The kids took off around the kitchen and Roger wanted to be let down so Geralt kneeled again to put him back on his feet. Yennefer turned towards the stew. Geralt hugged her from behind.

“Wonder if her mother keeps telling her that.” he said. She let herself loose in his arms.

“Might be.” she closed her eyes for a second.

“How was the flower?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer chuckled. “The auraris scenoloptis? Beautiful. Our kids got distracted by wolfbanes, moleyarrows, blowballs and ginatias though.” she told him. Geralt looked down on his necklace, made up of those flowers. “Yeah, right.” he said.

“I’m drying some petals and hope I can use them for a salve soon. The fishmonger's daughter needs some help getting pregnant.” she explained.

“What’s so different to using white myrtle?” he asked.

“Well it’s more potent in its aphrodisiac agency and acts as a booster to the female cycle by activating-” she realised Geralt was more interested in sniffing her hair than letting her explain in detail, “- in other words you have a couple more fertile days.”

“We didn’t need that.” he added. She turned towards him.

“Be glad, could have been different in another life!”

---

Lambert had returned from the city. His carriage was full of groceries, metals, fabric and leather. Eskel helped him unpack. Eric and Leo joined while Casimir, Gwyn and Roger had disappeared in the stables. “Everyone’s buying stuff as if a plague’s coming.” Lambert exclaimed. “Well maybe some are blessed with prophetic dreams or just like to prepare for winter early, like we do.” Eskel answered. Eric and Leo carried a big package to their storage house. Lambert’s two wolfdogs and Eskel’s greeted each other and proceeded to run around the cart and ranch.

Vesemir joined the unpackers, “Like we do? Those kids would eat those horses up in two weeks if we won’t buy food!” and kneeled down to pick something up which stopped both Eskel and Lambert to shout “Stop it!” and basically rip what he tried to pick up from his hands.

“Stop it, old man, you know it’s not good for your back!” Lambert shouted again.

Geralt and Yennefer, hearing commotion, walked out and soon were greeted by this scene. Vesemir put himself back up and made a sour face.

Yennefer called out to him, “Come on and help me inside, Vesemir.” after that she greeted Lambert with a quick “Hello!” which he answered with a “Hey, Yennefer.” She turned to got back inside.

In passing Geralt who sped to help unload he murmured, “My own sons don’t think I can do anything anymore and my daughter-in-law just gives me one command after another. I am not inept, I’m just getting a bit old!” Geralt patted him on the back. Vesemir had not been as quiet as he thought since Lambert quickly added a “I’ll be damned if there is a person one day she doesn’t order around. So don’t feel bad about that part.” which handed him a grunt and a sour look from Geralt.

Lambert shrugged. “Don’t tell me it’s not true!”

Without a word, Eskel threw something heavy at their youngest brother for him to shut up. There was silence for a few seconds. The boys returned and began carrying another package towards the storage hut.

“How was the town?” asked Eskel.

“Good, hectic. People are going a bit crazy. Emreis bought the Cintraen Stables. Ran ‘em out of business I say. I mean, crazy coincidences - Calanthe and Eist died a few weeks ago. Pertussis they say. Their granddaughter is missing. I mean she has nowhere to go, no family left anyways. Wolves probably got her. Hm. Old hag apparantly died. Can’t say I miss ‘er, had a few debts. Ah, I managed to have two of our foals of next year reserved. An Craite wants one of Alps and Foltest wants either one of Kayran or Eredin - maybe even both he’s not sure. Ugh Friday, finally!” Lambert told his brothers.

“Calanthe and Eist died?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah, pertussis apparently. Emreis already had a signed contract weeks before but I still get why people are thinking it might have been on purpose. Even more so that Cirenella or whatever her name was ‘s missing. You’d think they’d have prepared for it.”

They hadn’t been friends but lived in silent respect as almost neighbours and hearing about the tragic story around Calanthe’s daughter and her young grandchild had been the topic of many conversations with Yennefer. She had often remarked whether or not Pavetta was actually Vesemir’s daughter as a joke since Geralt and Pavetta had shared the same white-colored hair. Since Pavetta’s daughter was born a bastard with no known father it had led to some distressing silence.

“Hm.”

---

After having everything from Lambert’s shopping trip stored and packed where it belonged, they ate. Having ten mouths to feed was not something Yennefer ever imagined to do but she did it with glee - and she didn’t have to do it daily since both Lambert and Vesemir loved to cook. Geralt was good at it but he would rather feed the horses daily than his children, to put it briefly. “Horses don’t play with their food.” he’d say to Yennefer as an excuse not to cook. “Well then I won’t play with your meat!” was the whispered reply that usually took great effect.

Lambert told tales of the city with his nephews and his niece hung on his lips while eating.

Geralt only scooped a few spoons in, his mind occupied with the child of Pavetta. Only Roger who had snuck in the pantry and stolen some sweet pie and therefore wasn’t quite as hungry as his siblings noted his father being absent and tried to smile at him. Yenenfer who kept an extra eye on her criminal son to check whether he was eating anything healthy at all thus noticed Geralt being absent minded. He felt her gaze and looked up towards her. They exchanged a few facial expressions as married folk tend to do and Yennefer understood he would come up to her with it in time but later.

Yennefer returned to give Roger a stern gaze and he hastily put another spoon full of stew into his mouth, then smiled, mouth full of stew at her.

---

Beer in hand, children in bed, freshly bathed Geralt stood next to the fireplace. Vesemir was dozing off in his rocking chair. His ale stood beside him on the ledge.

Roger had a phase of direly needing his mom to sleep and while Geralt had read them all a story it was Yennefer who was needed to hold Rogers hand until he slept right now. Sometimes she dozed off too and then came up later to the parlor.

Eskel and Lambert washed up, he could hear their voices softly getting to his ear. They would drink a quick beer together, then go to their houses. Eskel as the ranch’s smith above his furnace and Lambert next to the storage hut. Vesemir took turns sleeping at Eskel’s or in his house which was way smaller and originally planned as a guest house. On colder nights he stayed at Eskel’s.

Originally they had all slept in the main house but with one child after another place grew scarce soon. And then again Geralt and Yennefer were grateful for every bit of privacy.

Geralt was still recovering from a leg injury he got when taming last year's horses. He had taken the children with him. Leo and Casimir almost got in harm's way when they groomed an already tamed horse of theirs, Morvudd, and his wild horse almost crashed into the other one. Morvudd jumped and left space for the wild one to crash into Leo and Casimir so Geralt got it to turn again and crash into a splintered fence, causing his leg to cut open.

The children had been horrified of course. Eric and Leo quickly ran back home to get help from their mother. It was resolved rather fast but since then his leg wasn’t healed completely and his duties on the ranch got split and taken over by his family.

After a while Eskel and Lambert came into the parlor and laughed at their sleeping father “No, I am not getting old.” Lambert mimicked his tone of speech and they all chuckled. They drank their beer and then wished each other good night. Eskel woke Vesemir and they left together. Geralt sat down into the rocking chair when he heard steps coming downstairs.

“Look who’s still awake.” he said with a low voice.

“Ha-ha.” Yennefer fake laughed. “Your son was scared you’re still hurting and cannot eat because of this.” she explained and then yawned.

She sat on his lap, carefully avoiding his hurt leg and began stroking his beard. No words were needed, no further inquiring.

“Lambert told us about Calanthe and Eist dying.” he began. He began caressing her back.

“Cintrean Stables?” she asked while closing her eyes. He nodded. “Yes, he said Emreis bought it. Didn’t mention they died though. What about -” he cut her off.

“Went missing, he said. She has no family left. She’s probably just a thorn in Emreis’ eyes.” Geralt added. Yennefer turned to look at him. “You...?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know do you…?”

She smiled, “What’s one mouth more to feed?”

One moment in silence then they started giggling. “Oh, Eric’s not gonna like this.”

Geralt looked towards the fire, sad about this prospect. Yennefer turned her body more towards him. “Hey. He’s having a phase. Just like Roger who needs me to sleep right now because he thinks if I am not there monsters will come. Eric is in a phase where he thinks he doesn’t need his dad and can protect himself from all the monsters in the world. The boys in school teased him because he told so much about you in school and then you got hurt even though being immortal according to Eric, the teacher told me.”

“Oh.” Geralt’s eyes widened.

“Geralt, it’s not your fault.” Yennefer tried to reassure him. “It’s a phase. He will get over it soon enough and then it’ll be me he hates. He’s starting puberty. It’s gonna be - fun.”

“Fun.” Geralt repeated.

“I need to convince myself or else I am gonna get crazy. We really had five children in eight years which means that they’re gonna be pubescent at the same time at one point.”

They both stared into the fire.

“It’s gonna be six children, Yen.” Geralt remarked. Yennefer smiled, then her gaze saddened. “We’re gonna have to find her first.”

---

They were awoken by a loud stomps on the stairways and shrieks of playing fetch. Yennefer went from sleeping to a commanding tone in mere seconds. “No running on the stairs!” she shouted, silence followed, quickly to be exchanged with a trail of steps running towards the two of them who had slept on the rocking chair, covered in fur and a quilt.

“Mommy! Daddy! Good morning!” they exclaimed and threw a ball between them. A game Geralt didn’t get the rules of. “We don’t have to get the rules,” Yennefer once explained to him, “what’s important is a) that they’re playing at all b) they are playing together and c) they’re letting us be for five minutes”.

They got forehead kisses from their parents - even Eric who Geralt just grabbed and pulled towards him. Yennefer saw Eric smile afterwards and was reassured he just had a phase.

Breakfast was bread with cold meat and jam. And telling their children about the plan of adopting another child.

“She doesn’t have a family anymore - do you guys think we could be that for her?” Yennefer asked the children.

“But who is gonna protect her if Daddy’s away? I already have to protect all of them. And you!” Eric got worked up.

“First of all, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself and you,” Yennefer got serious, “second of all, your father has a job that means he has to stay with the herds several nights in a row. It’s not as if he’s gone forever or will leave forever. He’s never going alone and won’t ever go alone. And third of all, we are fine. I know you hear a lot of the jokes Lambert makes about you guys eating everything up one day but no it’s not the truth. We have enough for all. Hell, we would have enough if Lambert and Eskel finally got a -”

Geralt stopped Yennefer. “I think it’s okay now, Yen.”

Eric looked a bit beat down and angry at the same time, Geralt wondered why he hadn’t left yet but he guessed Eric was too proud for that.

“Hey buddy,” Geralt started, “I know you’re feeling a bit like I am not your friend anymore these days but I am. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way but this is between us and shouldn’t -”

“Yeah yeah I know. Just keep on getting more children like I am not enough!” Eric stormed off, closing the door behind him by smashing it. Yennefer looked as shocked as rarely ever before.

Eskel peeked into the parlor. “Your son just crashed into me and then ran off? Are you alright -” he saw Yennefer's expression, Geralt being quite unhappy and the other children mildly confused. “Okay. I guess not. Uh. I will look for Lambert.” he left again.

Leo, after holding a “conference” with his siblings and being the eldest with Eric’s vanishing, told his parents that they were alright with another sister, should she “wish to join, be okay to make flower crowns, race towards the forest and back, accept the rules of ball-throw-game” and, most importantly the task they all hated but someone had to do “help folding bed sheets” which had Yennefer and Geralt fall out of their moment of shock and return to smiling. “Sure. We will present her with your demands.” Geralt told his son.

---

“Are you sure you won’t rather take the carriage?” Yennefer asked as Geralt mounted Roach. Vesemir already sat on his horse, a white gelding.

“Yes, Yen. We will be faster that way. She is alone out there and every minute might count.”

“I just worry-” Yennefer got interrupted by Vesemir: “His leg won’t fall off and I may be older than you all but I can ride a horse faster than you all can. Now stop being cheesy and give him a goodbye kiss.”

Yennefer did, presented Vesemir with a stern gaze and then waved them goodbye with the children, up until they got bored doing so.

Geralt and Vesemir took on a quick trot and reached the town soon after high noon. The town hall delivered a quick message in the form of Julian Alfred Pankratz alias Jaskier, one of the council members. “Geralt! Vesemir!” he exclaimed , “it is nice seeing you here!”. He came closer, leaving a waiting and now angry couple waiting for their meeting behind. “How is your leg? How are your children? How is… the witch doing?” Vesemir laughed at that last remark. “How are you, old man?” he asked Vesemir who visibly didn’t like being called ‘old man’. Geralt smirked at that, had he been okay with his wife getting insulted seconds before.

“Getting better each day, getting bigger each day, getting more beautiful each day.” Geralt answered. Jaskier shrugged. “Wow I really need to visit again.” he said.

“Yes, they miss their uncle.” said Vesemir. “And to be frank we could use a day of singing again.” Jaskier beamed.

“We’re here because of Pavetta’s child though.” Geralt chimed in.

“Who?” asked Jaskier.

“You know the child of surprise.”

“Ah. Sure. What a tragic story, isn’t it? I really need to make it a song. ‘Last flower of Cintra’, maybe? Hm. Sounds too floral. Lion? They had lion decor. But they still were a ranch. Rose? Yeah yeah sounds better. What are the odds of both grandparents dying mere days from each other?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cut his evasions short.

“Right. Cirilla. What about her?”

“Lambert said she went missing and doesn’t have a family.” Geralt explained.

“Well at least the family part is true.” Jaskier said.

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have any further family. Well except - surprisingly - a father should surface,” he noticed Geralt's stern look, “but no she doesn’t have any living family and no one willing or possible to take her. Alas she is not missing - okay yes she went missing for a quick moment but was quickly found and lives with the teacher for now.”

“Oh.” Vesemir and Geralt shared a look. They both were glad she was sfe for now.

“We spoke about maybe taking her in,” Geralt stated, “can I meet her?”

“Sure,” said Jaskier, “just maybe bring Yennefer next time. The council decided we would only let someone take her in after both had met them. You know it didn’t go well with the Jaromir boy last time and now he’s living on Emrais Ranch getting fed lies about how inept we are. And Emrais hasn’t even adopted him. I think it’s a bunch of kids just living off the ranch’s supplies.” Geralt wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth but he didn’t care.

“I think it’s best we ride back, Geralt. You and Yennefer can still ride back here today and meet her then. It’s no use going there alone. You shouldn’t make the decision yourself anyways. Would have been different if she still ran around in the forest.” Vesemir opined. Jaskier nodded consensual. “Yes I won’t be here for long anymore but you know where to meet me. I will have the papers ready should you decide to take her in.”

---

Yennefer and Geralt rode as fast as the wind. Her black stallion was called Aretuza and one of the fastest in the bunch. Roach had been tired out so he took Plotka, another brown mare.

“Remember when we got married in the town?” Yennefer smiled.

“Barely.” Geralt answered. Yennefer's smile vanished.

“You’re teasing me!” she turned sour. Geralt’s eyes widened in glee.

“Yen, I am just reminding you of the time you told me you were pregnant.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I remember, you didn’t recall our wedding at first. To be fair they had you quite… drunk at the end of the night.”

The conversation had been barely a week after their wedding. Istredd, a study friend of Yennefer who didn’t make it to the wedding, congratulated them and then, after winking at both of them for seeing Yennefer's situation, asked whether they had chosen a name already. After he left Geralt asked her for what he congratulated. She had told him that they had wed which got Geralt confused.

“I wore white and had flowers? All our friends and family were there? You wore a dress shirt? You said ‘I do!’?”

His answer back then didn’t stem from being reluctant rather than actually not knowing what had been going on. “How was I even supposed to know? You always smell of lilac, wear white, black or black and white - also I still can’t believe any day I wear those horrible fancy clothes is a chance you take? I honestly thought it was a normal sunday. I mean okay, the drinking got out of hand but it happens, right?”

“Please tell me you at least remember what we need a name for?” Yennefer had asked, getting aggravated. His eyes had grown even more panicked.

“A horse?” Geralt had asked, confused.

“I’m seven months pregnant, Geralt.”

“Fuck.” Anxiety over having an unwanted child had now grabbed Yennefer. “We don’t have a name,” He took her into a deep hug and then started kissing her, “But well we have about two months, still.” Between her tears, Yennefer still had managed to laugh.

“I still can’t believe I forgot most of our wedding. It sucks to be honest.”

“At least you feel bad about it,” Yennefer said, “and I am so glad you didn’t suggest ‘Roach’ as a name in that moment. We wouldn’t have made a week of marriage.”

“I know.” he answered.

It was late afternoon when they rode into the town. Jaskier told Geralt he would alert the teacher of the situation and he would expect them at their home. The teachers house was small by comparison to the ranch but right next to the school which had its own advantages. They knocked on the door and were greeted by the teacher's wife and one of their children.

“Ah, Geralt and Yennefer. Come in!” she said and made room. As they walked in she asked a lot of questions about the room size for the children, how old they were, whether they were healthy. Geralt made some remarks about the size of the ranch to make known that some worth lied there. The teacher’s wife openend the door to the parlor where the teacher sat with Cirilla and one of their children. Cirilla looked about eight, was dressed in a blue dress and had white hair. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a look and almost began to laugh. At first sight she looked more like his child than any of his did. Cirilla locked eyes with them and after everyone greeted each other and Geralt and Yennefer told her who they were she greeted them with: “I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon but you can call me Ciri. Will you take me with you now?”

She stood before them smiling sheepishly. “We could if you want to? We have a ranch with horses.” Geralt told her.

“And we have five children.” Yennefer added, asking herself why he always had to mention the horses before his children.

Ciri nodded.“Yes Jaskier has already told me about all that. Mr. Teacher has already explained to me that I cannot stay here.” she told them.

“I think we’re settled then? I am sure you will love our home.” Yennefer said, beaming while doing so. Ciri seemed to warm up quickly and they hoped it wouldn’t stop once meeting the wall of children they had at home. Her bag was packed quickly since she didn’t have a lot of stuff. Most important was the stuffed lion her grandmother gifted her which she held firmly.

“Can I ride with you?” she asked Geralt.

“Sure.” he smiled as he answered and promptly placed her on Roach who whinnied.

They talked about some basic stuff on the way back home. Her favorite food, color, animal. Stuff to get to know her and ease her into a situation she seemed to accept rather quickly.

---

Back on the Ranch they were greeted by all of them including the dogs standing together and waving. Geralt and Yennefer stopped their horses and got down. The children came nearer but were pretty shy. Eric stood before his siblings and greeted Ciri first. “Hey Ciri, I am Eric.” he said. Lambert and Eskel fist bumped which meant they prepared him for this moment. Geralt gave them a quick thumbs up. Everyone greeted Ciri who stood next to a squatting Yennefer. Ciri whispered in her ear “How am I supposed to remember all of those names?” Yennefer giggled once, then said “Don’t worry you can always ask, we won’t bite.”

Ciri nodded, still a bit unsure of the situation.

Lambert exclaimed: “Who’s hungry? I cooked.”

Geralt then noticed he hadn't eaten all day. His stomach growled, “I am hungry.” he said just as Ciri bravely expressed her hunger as well.

“Follow me!” said Lambert and the whole bunch followed him put.

Vesemir walked up to Geralt. “Sure it wasn’t you that got Pavetta pregnant?”

In another life, Yennefer's anger could kill people as easily as a storm. We’re glad it’s not this.

#witcher #the witcher #no beta we die like calanthe #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt #yennefer

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Onceuponadisneypotter

Jaskier, back in Lettenhove for the winter, considers how Geralt's words on the Mountain were unfair, but that nothing on this world can stop him from loving the Witcher anyways.

Words: 2154, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Half a Century of Poetry

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Jaskier's internal monologue, he thinks about the unfairness of what Geralt told him on The Mountain, post-mountain, He is in Lettenhove, his sister has taken over his title, Jaskier is best uncle, Mention of Roach, Mention of Ciri, mention of nieces and nephews, brief mention of death (Jaskier's parents & one sibling), Jaskier is part-fae, Jaskier keeps his promises, inspired by The Self Banished by Edmund Waller, no beta we die like renfri, ridiculously long title, i swear this series will contain at least one non-angst fic, but this is not the one

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #netflix the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier

[witcherfic]

Onceuponadisneypotter July 12, 2020 at 11:44AM

by Onceuponadisneypotter

Jaskier, back in Lettenhove for the winter, considers how Geralt's words on the Mountain were unfair, but that nothing on this world can stop him from loving the Witcher anyways.

Words: 2154, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Half a Century of Poetry

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Jaskier's internal monologue, he thinks about the unfairness of what Geralt told him on The Mountain, post-mountain, He is in Lettenhove, his sister has taken over his title, Jaskier is best uncle, Mention of Roach, Mention of Ciri, mention of nieces and nephews, brief mention of death (Jaskier's parents & one sibling), Jaskier is part-fae, Jaskier keeps his promises, inspired by The Self Banished by Edmund Waller, no beta we die like renfri, ridiculously long title, i swear this series will contain at least one non-angst fic, but this is not the one

#witcher #witcher fic #fic recs #ao3feed