#tw: discussion of monster planning to eat geralt

[amagicdragonwrites]

Prompt: an escape plan(atla, but any of the fandoms is good)

(Only if you wanna write it, btw!! I just like to see writing :D)

I sent you a message to ask if I could do this for the witcher fandom, but Inspiration hit before you could reply! I hope this one is okay. This will be a full fic; the rest of it should be up by tomorrow on both tumblr and ao3!

Geralt Escapes a Dinner Party

The aroma of garlic and rosemary frying in butter gently coaxes Geralt awake. 

Mmmm. Marlene must be making her herbed baguettes again. There’s still beef leftover from the night before; if Geralt is lucky, she might make him a roast beef sandwich for breakfast, complete with a bowl of broth to dip it into. He can almost smell it: the rich, fragrant beef broth fortified with last year’s red wine, some melting cheese, and the lingering essence of — 

Rock troll?

Geralt’s eyes snap open, and shit. He’s bound and caged, no weapons, no armor, no nothing in the cauldron he’s in except… garlic, rosemary, beef broth and Corvo Bianco red. 

The bastards are marinating him in his own damn wine. 

Lambert can never know about this. 

At least they didn't tenderize him. And Geralt is mostly unharmed, so he should be able to get the fuck out of this cauldron. He tries to start with his arms, but after a few minutes of struggling with the rope, it becomes clear that the trolls had an accomplice. They don't have opposable thumbs. They shouldn't have been able to tie him up. 

Flashes from the night before hit Geralt abruptly. He had been chasing a thief who had been stealing from some merchants in Beauclair. When the chase had led them deep enough into the forest, the man turned around, morphed into a katakan, and then —

And then Geralt woke up in a soup pot. 

Dammit. 

Freeing his wrists takes a lot more effort than it should. The katakan had been very meticulous with his knots; getting out of the binding requires more wiggling and shimmying than Geralt would like to admit. The sloshing around alerts one of his captors, though, and a rock troll in a ridiculously tiny apron lumbers into view. 

Predictably, it's not happy. 

"Awake witchymans!" he cries out in dismay. 

Two more rock trolls come barreling in — one of them has a huge skillet with the butter and garlic Geralt had been smelling, and the other one is holding a huge wooden mug filled with what seems like white wine. It can't be, though — as far as Geralt knows, rock trolls can't drink alcohol. 

Or maybe they do, in Toussaint. Figures that even the fucking rock trolls are obsessed with wine here.

Mug Troll takes in the scene — their dinner halfway to escaping — then whacks Pan Troll up the back of his head. "Nico killing witcherman want! But Pico listen not, killing not, only miranade make!" He snorts, sounding uncharitable even to Geralt's non-rock troll ears. "Killing Pico will witcherman, Nico sad not." 

"No kill not witchermans!" Pan Troll — presumably Pico — insists. "Now kill, later cook, meaty toughy tough. Chefyman so say." 

Geralt really doesn't like where this conversation is going, so he decides to interrupt. "Hey, hey. No one's cooking anyone today, you hear me?" 

Nico and Pico both ignore him, squabbling on about cooking methods, but Apron Troll comes up to his cage, frowning. 

"Food talk not," he says reproachfully. "Friendo talk, trolly talk, food not talk." 

Maybe this one can be reasoned with. 

To be continued

#witcher 3 #fanfic #geralt of rivia #rock trolls #tw: discussion of monster planning to eat geralt #prompt #day 3