#vinnfics

[kaer-cuan]

a possible ending

Or, Vinn felt like being mean to their OC several months ago and is just now posting this. 

A short look at a possible death. 

Master Dasha of Stygga and Maribor, Knight of Mettina, Scourge of Ebbing, Fifth of the High Adepts, Cat Witcher in exile, dies in a ditch. 

He doesn’t mean to, not that anyone really means to, but it’s especially irritating that he’s dying now. He lies crumpled off the side of the road, a puppet with cut strings, the cooling bodies of three shaelmaar around him. It won’t be long- he’ll bleed out. They got his neck and his legs, plus a massive rake that shredded his armor deep into his chest, and it’s more than Swallow can fix. Even if it could fix the worst of it, he’s been hamstrung. Swallow would target that first. 

His right hand fumbles for the pouch at his hip, pulling out each slim vial of potion, and he systematically breaks each one against the ground, breathing ragged. It takes a lot of effort, but he doesn’t want someone trying them and killing themselves with it. His left side doesn’t want to move, and he’s tired, he’s so tired. His slim ledger book, with all of its information, he fishes out and with a flick of his fingers sets on fire with a blast of Igni. Treyse may be a bastard, but he doesn’t dare let the information in that book come to light. The Cats are in a precarious situation already, the movements of the caravan are too dangerous in human hands. 

Dasha manages to turn enough to get a glimpse of the sky, clear and blue as cornflowers. It’s a nice day, at least. Good weather. This area is well traveled, so his body should be found and stripped of its belongings before long. The horse is in good condition, so she should find a new home quickly. There’s nothing not on him that needs destroying, he’s always traveled light. Hopefully the passerby will bury him, not leave him to be eaten by wild things. Or the alderman who hired him might send someone to check. He’d seemed alright, for a human. 

Three shaelmaar. Damn. He’d expected one, been caught unawares. He can hear Gezras and Guxart both yelling at him for his arrogance even now. Better overprepared than under, but damn if he didn’t get cocky. 

He’s lived a decent life. 127 isn’t so bad, for a witcher. Perfectly average and acceptable. He’s seen a lot of things. Slept with a lot of people, too. Watched the world change and grow. Saw Nilfgaard flourish, drank wine through Toussaint, lived with elves and humans, watched Novigrad become a free city, witnessed the rise and fall of kings and queens. Raised children. The current class of kits in the caravan are all his, worked from the ground up, and they’re bold and beautiful and quick. They’ll survive for longer than he will.

He hopes Gaetan’s going to be alright, and little Aiden. 

He hopes Treyse didn’t kill them to wipe out everything he ever touched. 

There’s clouds, high in the distance. Wispy things, floating along. A faint breeze rustles the trees. He can’t feel it anymore. He blinks, and can tell his eyes are going dark. 

Dasha closes his eyes, reaching up to hold his medallion, and goes.

The visiting witcher is buried in an unmarked grave in the woods with only his medallion on, away from human burial grounds to avoid the fear of tainting the dead.

The villagers have sold his things within a week. 

#cat witcher oc #dasha ap stygga #character death #mcd #this isn't his canonical death but sometimes you just gotta commit a violence to your darlings #vinnfics

[kaer-cuan]

Teenage Laiden Attempted Murder Mystery (or, I took my cat to the vet and all I got was this fic concept)

Lambert is a pain in the ass hooligan teenager doing his best to be a nuisance when he comes across Aiden, who he knows fully well is in the local gang and definitely has just been left to die for some reason. So Lambert has this half-dead guy in his arms who he doesn’t know, because he doesn’t go to his school. Lambert is, to his dismay and Vesemir's many migraines, in private school on full scholarship because he really is that bright but hoo boy is he a discipline problem. Lambert has no clue who he is, but he isn’t about to just let him die!!! He panics and takes Aiden to his vet brother Eskel, who takes one look at Lambert dragging in a half dead teenager and is just like "kid I liked it much better when you kept bringing home venomous snakes" and lamberts like "bitch leave letho out of this and HELP HIM"

Eskel (who has not, point of fact, exactly been on the straight and narrow all his days) does some EXTREMELY shady medicine on this teenager and gets him alive and stable after a few calls to some shady old acquaintances who can get him human blood for transfusions and some help from Lambert, who is much too excited about getting to use the defibrillators. Aiden is VERY clearly from the wrong side of the tracks and Eskel is just like "brat please do NOT try to take him home" and Lambert's just like "oh I won't"

So he calls Geralt. And Geralt is criminally incapable of saying no to him, which is a dangerous weakness to have, so Geralt gets a ragged and recently patched up from being nearly murdered 17 year old dropped on his doorstep and Lambert very cheerily announces he's making good on Geralt's offer of his spare room to crash in sometime until this guy feels better. So Geralt has two guests for the foreseeable future.

-

Geralt: I don't know why I expected you'd stop bringing dangerous animals home when you got older but here we are I guess 

Lambert: shut up you love Letho 

Geralt: incorrect

-

Lambert is not in a gang because none of them had a good enough recruitment pitch. They also stopped trying after Geralt came back to town and thrashed everyone in a ten mile radius. No one's really sure what Geralt does and they're not about to ask honestly. Officially speaking Vesemir is a "consultant". No one knows what he consults on.

(elevator design.)

(also the destruction of human trafficking rings.)

(he multitasks.)

(Letho is a professional artist with a questionable past who refuses to stop critiquing Lambert’s spray painting technique. Lambert simultaneously hates and adores him since Letho enjoys giving him a wide variety of paints and keeps encouraging him to branch out in different styles but Letho is also definitely an asshole. Lambert also has a snake named after Letho, because he calls all snakes Letho since he is in fact a petty bitch. She’s a banana ball python, which was the compromise to keep him arguing about keeping a coral snake he found and brought to Eskel, because he has the self preservation skills of a dead hamster. Eskel is going to go gray way before his time.)

Aiden wakes up from his anesthesia to a strange house, several strange people, and a decent portion of his memories of the last three weeks missing.

Lambert, enthusiastic and terrifying: HI! You technically died like twice tonight, did you see any gods? 

Aiden: no but I have apparently seen an angel HI WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

Aiden then promptly tries to stand up, and in true cat fashion falls directly on his face out of Geralt's fold out couch and flops around like a dying whale. Jaskier watches him fall on his face and is like "perfect. 10/10. Will keep forever."

-

Geralt, to Yennefer: we are not keeping him 

Yenn: we kept Jaskier. 

Jaskier: she has a point, unfortunately

-

Eskel meanwhile is debating about what he's going to tell Vesemir because Lambert is not going to be able to keep his new pet project a secret, not the least because he let Lambert use the defibrillators and that was DEFINITELY a mistake judging by the glee he saw. He is like 95% sure that Lambert is going to suddenly want to study enough to get into med school just to use them again which would be great for his grades and a nightmare for the general populous.

-

Lambert, in the distance: DO YOU KNOW HOW EASY THOSE AED BOXES ARE TO SMASH??? ESKEL DO YOU WANT NEW DEFIBRILLATORS- 

Eskel: please god no

-

Eskel: so, good news, Lambert wants to be a doctor now...

Vesemir, warily: what sort of doctor?

Eskel: ...probably emergency room, I think

-

Meanwhile, back at the ranch: 

Aiden is one of the Cats, obviously, and has also been clearly targeted by someone. He is also legally living with his uncle, which is to say he's been couch surfing for three years since his uncle couldn't give less of a shit, and once the neglect got too bad he ran away and has been mostly living with Gaetan. Geralt realizes about this time that he is not getting his spare room back, because Lambert is staring at this guy with heart eyes. 

Lambert wants to find out what happened in the last three weeks. Aiden is considering proposing and offering to skip town with him and commit a small murder so they can open a BNB on the coast. However Aiden is a) presumed dead and b) recovering from being dead, so he is confined to Geralt's place while Lambert sulkily goes to school and proceeds to ace everything by virtue of no longer caring about looking aloof. His teachers take a lot of headache meds.

Vesemir is Deeply Suspicious of this but Geralt hasn’t called him to come retrieve him so he is accepting this as something that will eventually blow up in his face and investing in blast shields.

-

Vesemir: Have you finished your homework? 

Lambert, quite honestly: Yes! 

Vesemir, checking the school's grade software: ...Huh. That's...new...

-

Lambert, to his chem lab partner: and anyway that's why I think he was nearly murdered 

Lab partner, staring: wow. And I thought stealing my mom's Audi to go get boba was a wild weekend 

Lambert: idk man there's something so invigorating about stitching up knife wounds 

Lab partner: like cocaine invigorating or...

Lambert, horrible straight edge bastard: what 

Lab partner, very rich and bored: what

-

Lambert is the school cryptid and extremely proud of it. He’s worked hard for his title. He is tragically probably the most law abiding student at his school, because they’re all extremely rich and very, very bored and thus nightmares. Lambert’s classmates have no idea what to do with this guy because on the one hand holy shit he's a nightmare but on the other he seems to think weed is An Extreme Drug so who knows what's up with that. The worst he actually does is graffiti anarchist slogans on abandoned buildings, which Letho is always heckling him about. Lambert has absolutely called Eskel to pick him up from a party because kids are smoking and Eskel wonders a lot how the fuck his baby brother ended up this way. Jaskier is just a very trashy club pop sensation and does All The Drugs on tour and is so baffled by this kid

-

Eskel "cocaine is fine" Wolfe: hey little man what do you need 

Lambert, 15: can you come get me people are smoking 

Eskel: like, crack??? 

Lambert: no, cigarettes. Wait, you can smoke crack????? 

Eskel: ... I'll be there in 10 minutes and then we're giving you an education

-

(Meanwhile, Eskel's Wild Cocaine Fueled Tour Of Europe And Sundry Environs is a topic of regular family discussion, much to Eskel's dismay. No one is quite sure how he managed to have wild nights with half a dozen supermodels, but there's photo evidence. Eskel absolutely also made a single porno that is still so popular that he’s been getting royalties off of it for years, and frankly he doesn’t give a shit because it paid for vet school and most of his practice.)

-

And this is the part where Lambert starts getting in real trouble because he decides to Encyclopedia Brown his way into finding out who attempted to murder his new best friend. (Said new best friend has started a Pinterest wedding board with Jaskier's help.)

Will the killer be: Aiden's shitty uncle Jad, who's been stealing from Aiden’s inheritance from his dead parents? Vienne, a rival to the Cat's? Kiyan, who is frankly terrifying? Gaetan, one of Aiden's friends with a history of blackout violence? Or worst of all, maybe Aiden's actually done something worth murdering for and it’s someone with a grudge. 

Aiden's spent a not inconsiderable amount of time in and out of courthouses, primarily for theft. He's fast and agile, he's a good burglar. His main job was just to be income for the gang. He spent a lot of his time running around with other members around town and “worked” laundering money at the car wash that the Cats run. He has a cat face brand on his shoulder from initiation that he'll probably have tattooed over with flowers. Aiden got his at 15, is now 17, very close to 18. Also please consider 14 year old baby faced Aiden who played lacrosse and trombone, and then 15 year old Aiden who's desperately trying not to pass out as he's branded. Aiden has not had a good time of his teen years. 

Gaetan got his at 14 and is now 19, and was the one more or less taking care of Aiden and trying to keep him from getting into worse shit. Gaetan's a lookout and sometimes an enforcer and has been pushed into wetwork at least a few times, and is being blackmailed by Jad to keep an eye on Aiden. He sometimes stays with other people if Gaetan wants space but he lives with Gaetan most often. Gaetan's little sister was the lynchpin. Jad did some magic with the legal system to get Gaetan custody and now Gaetan's deep in his pocket. 

Gaetan is the one who takes him in first, on Jad's orders, mostly because Jad wants to further ingratiate himself with the gang and giving them a new little thief is just the way to do it. Aiden has no idea about Gaetan’s involvement with Jad.  Jad is partially bankrolling the gang into some of the more horrifying stuff and profiting off of the cut he takes from them along with stealing from Aiden’s inheritance. So 15 year old Aiden got dragged into gang life and things went from bad to worse for him. 

Aiden's parents are very dead, unfortunately. They were relatively well off and relatively suspicious of Jad so Aiden was supposed to go to some great aunt in case of any untimely deaths but whoops! Suddenly Aiden's parents are dead and the great aunt isn't picking up the phone and he's dropped into Jad's tender care. He went from being a relatively sheltered teen on the wealthy end of suburbia to couch surfing and a thief in the span of a year. He goes from honor roll to arrest record within two. Technically he’s still enrolled in his very shitty public high school and shows up to the classes he's interested in, namely to avoid truancy arrests, but he's definitely not graduating. 

He has his trust fund, which is enough to at least get him stable and back on his feet once he turns 18 and can access it. Jad can't touch it at all, but Aiden doesn't know it exists.

It's Jad with Vienne's help this is not a hard mystery. Aiden gains control of his trust at 18 and if he's dead, Jad inherits it.

And then all Lambert has to do once he works it out is turn very big eyes on Yenn and Geralt, who exchange glances and then go for a walk. Lambert stays home with Aiden and they have popcorn while Jaskier works on his music and absolutely doesn’t babysit. Geralt gets back late smelling vaguely like a bonfire and looking very satisfied with himself, and Yenn comes back a few hours later looking even more satisfied and, more importantly, bearing pizza.

-

Lambert, meanwhile, through his popcorn: when do I get to learn how to dispose of bodies 

Geralt: Well, when you're- 

Jaskier: GERALT ROGER ERIC DU HAUTE- BELLEGARDE ZI RIVIA YOU WILL END THAT SENTENCE RIGHT THERE.

Yenn: 21, I think

-

Aiden, upon seeing Jad and Vienne be announced as missing persons: marry me 

Lambert: yeah sure, you're 18 next month anyway right?

- 

Several miles away, Vesemir is suddenly stricken with a migraine. But a few months later he does shell out for nice catering, popping several pills as he does, and Yennefer pulls some strings and gets them a fucking cathedral. Jaskier, who took a decade of required organ lessons and has just been given a cathedral organ to go ham on, just about loses his mind with glee at getting to do the music. Bloody Stupid Johnson has nothing on Julian Alfred "fuck around and find out" Pancratz. 

It’s less chaotic than anyone expected, and 30 years later they’re still happily married. (They also have three different Letho’s in various kinds of snake. Letho is so proud.) 

(Massive thanks to the late night Laiden crew from BIKM, who are all enablers, and especially @inexplicifics and @angry-cajun-lady, who contributed a decent portion of the hilarity and worldbuilding prompts.) 

#witcher #lambert #aiden #laiden #lamden #vinnfics

[kaer-cuan]

Higher Vampire Jaskier concept

Because I am Weak: higher vampire Jaskier but he's an absolute BABY. He's only like 50 years old and just starting out in life, just dumb as bricks, and runs into Geralt on his first real outting on the Continent and just goes for it when he sees this guy because he smells like ADVENTURE and Jaskier wants to see the world!! Thankfully Geralt is not very observant and completely misses why his new little bard friend is so weird. He's a bard! Bards are weird! He's not going to question it. He’s got better things to do, like stare into the distance and brood a bit. Jaskier loves this guy, he’s hilarious.

A few years down the line Geralt starts hearing about how there might be a vampire in Oxenfurt, but the signs only show up in winter. He only thinks about it because Jaskier goes back to winter in Oxenfurt. So he tells him to be careful, and there might be a vampire about, and Jaskier’s like “hahahah cool cool thank you BYYYYE”

Jaskier is just really bad at keeping a low profile and look!!! Blood tasty!!! It's like getting drunk!!!

Geralt does eventually figure out that it's Jaskier after getting called in to handle it and finding this idiot drinking from a very happy young man and is just like "........I don't know what I expected, also, what do you MEAN you have a group of idiot humans who think it's hot when you drink from them"

Jaskier, least subtle vampire on the Continent: I mean it seemed rude to not ask for their consent??

Geralt, screaming in the distance: THIS IS HOW YOU GET KILLED YOU DUMBASS

-

They talk it out and Jaskier swears up and down it’s only people who actually like it that he’s drinking from, so Geralt decides that he can live and they can still travel together, because like… Regis exists. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. On the road he does eventually get curious and after like a WEEK of taking white honey daily to make sure his blood isn't toxic very awkwardly asks him if he'll show him what the big deal is and. Well.

Turns out white honey blood is VERY TASTY. And also that geralt is a bit more of a freak than he anticipated. (Notably: Geralt absolutely gets a bit of a high off of the blood drinking and he is also a freak for biting, and Jaskier is just the most smug asshole about it.) 

Life carries on and they meet Yennefer (who Jaskier likes immediately and who Geralt likes even more immediately), and they get a Ciri, and life is generally pretty okay aside from the whole Nilfgaard thing. And then there’s the hanse arc, and Jaskier meets Regis (who we’re pretending Geralt has known for a while before this for the sake of fun silliness). When Jaskier meets Regis he's immediately smitten because!!! Nice adult vampire who will teach me things and is very kind! He’s never really met another higher vampire aside from his POS bio father (don’t ask me how he was born, Jaskier just Is.) Geralt does not know how to feel about Jaskier bounding up with lots of flowers for Regis' approval. Regis does not know how to feel about having acquired a child, but he just kinda shrugs because. Well. Here it is. 

Regis and Geralt are carefully not talking about their wild ass dynamic with this idiot baby vamp because it'll get weird REAL QUICK if they do

Regis is definitely not mad about having Jaskier plaster himself to him to beg for attention and stories though.

That's nice.

He can handle that.

Dettlaff has no idea what to do with Jaskier when they meet later in life, when Jaskier is the delicate age of 85 and Regis invited them to come meet the guy who brought him back to life. Regis just shrugs helplessly while Jaskier yammers on about how Dettlaff has to tell him about 300 year old chord progressions

-

Regis: .....do I have to give you the shovel talk 

Geralt, watching Dettlaff glare at him while he pats Jaskier's head indulgently: you really, really don't

-

Dettlaff and Regis wind up essentially acting as co parenting divorced exes with baby Vamp Jaskier, and Geralt is frantically NOT thinking about the number of times he's fallen into bed with Regis. Yenn thinks this is the funniest thing that has ever happened in her entire life.

When Geralt gets Corvo Bianco he does it with the resigned knowledge of his damn vampiric equivalent of in-laws dropping in and out for the rest of time. Regis and Dettlaff both decide to stay in Toussaint, with things working out much better for all involved during Blood and Wine, and Jaskier pops in and out of the place wreaking havoc all the time since he’s made up with Anna Henrietta and has a sort of sister in Orianna, who’s given up the orphanage scheme and is behaving herself.  Jaskier is the youngest higher vampire on the Continent so all the older bruxa have no idea whether to bow to him or pinch his cheeks and coo for the next hundred years.

Side note, Regis and Geralt have DEFINITELY given in and slept together at some point Jaskier started sleeping with Geralt and treating Regis like a father, and Jaskier thinks its very funny that they're embarrassed by it, because it's not like they're legal kin or anything.

-

Jaskier, sipping his coffee when they stumble into the kitchen in the morning: soooo something you want to tell me 

Regis, covering his face with his hands: if I never bring up the couch incident again will you go away? 

Jaskier: lmao no this is HILARIOUS

Dettalff hears about this and cackles relentlessly for weeks. Regis seriously consists moving to Kovir.

-

The relationships in this world could be summed up with Orianna pulling down a chart and saying "by all accounts it doesn't make any sense"

Jaskier and Geralt: live together when he's in Toussaint, technically partners 

Geralt and Yenn: have a thing going, leave it undefined 

Yenn and Jaskier: have a REAL good time every time they meet up and whether or not that includes sex is a mystery for the ages 

Regis and Geralt: would love it if the other would stop being so fucking attractive good lord knock it off oh no we did it again 

Regis and Dettlaff: big divorced spouses who inevitably call each other on their anniversary and talk about how they miss each other and wind up in a motel 6 because the sex was DEFINITELY not why they broke up energy

-

Lambert, poster child for personal monogamy and professional demisexual: gross

Aiden, his husband, poster child for non monogamy, who has definitely tried the White Honey thing with Jaskier since Lambert does not give a shit what he gets up to so long as he doesn’t have to hear about it: oh yeah totally lmao

Eskel "slept with a succubus after doing fisstech" Wolfschool, who has also done the White Honey thing: just ridiculous, all of them

-

Jaskier: I'm a goddamn adult 

Dettlaff, hoisting him by his armpits with ease: baby. Tiny child. Leetle.

Jaskier: >:[

-

Jaskier: you should let me come on that hunt with you! 

Dettlaff, doing paperwork: what did Regis say? 

Jaskier: well, he said no. 

Dettlaff: then why are you asking me? 

Jaskier: because he's not the boss of you 

Dettlaff, internally: THIS IS A TRAP

-

Jaskier: I'm NINETY YEARS OLD, I CAN DO WHAT I WANT 

Regis: oh absolutely the fuck not, this is not a good choice.

Dettlaff: he’s right, listen to your father, you tiny baby child. 

Regis: your mother is right, you should listen to me. 

Dettlaff: Regis ISTG, DO NOT CALL ME-

-

Ciri, age 12: Wow, Geralt really likes tall collars 

Ciri, age 20: OH MY GOD

-

Detlaff, hauling Jaskier out of Beauclair to hand him off to Regis after he made Anna Henrietta mad again: Control your child, Regis. 

Regis, unimpressed: When he’s in Beauclair he’s YOUR son.

Jaskier: :3c

#vinnfics #geraskier #regis/dettlaff #regis/geralt #it's fun polyamory time don't at me #hv!Jaskier

[kaer-cuan]

Revenge (Id, Ego, Greed)

A writing exercise, based loosely on Revolver by Guy Ritchie. TW for blood, physical violence, and general sexual discussion/acts. Gaetan is trans and very confident in his body.

There are three rules to any game or confidence scheme.

Rule number one: You only get smarter by playing a smarter opponent.

oOo

The high roller’s table is fat with cash and Letho is sent to be additional muscle to Auckes and Serrit. Letho is usually the muscle, he’s big and ugly and intimidating as all fucking hell, so he slips into the room and looks wide and nasty. There’s a ring of players there, all of them focused on the table, and he takes them in dispassionately. Oil tycoon, modern robber baron, trust fund brat, another trust fund brat, and something new. Shaved head, quick eyes, scar down his face. Those quick eyes meet Letho’s, and Auckes across the room obviously makes note. 

“Are we boring you, Mr. Katinas,” Oil Tycoon drawls. 

Katinas looks away from Letho, and raises. He wins handily, and keeps winning, and wins some more. By the time the others have left the table, leaving Katinas with a mountain of chips that he’s lazily considering, Katinas has spent a good half the time eye fucking Letho, which is new and bizarre. 

“Gaetan,” he says, standing up from the table. “My name. You three charming lads must be with Ivar.” 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Serrit says, and Gaetan Katinas smiles, meeting Letho’s eyes. 

“I’d like a word with the Evil Eye.”

He gets it. Katinas tells Ivar that there’s a group of them, all high rollers, all there for a minimum of a month, likely longer, and they need guards. Ivar agrees to loan them out for a hefty cost that Gaetan doesn’t blink at. 

Gaetan stipulates that Letho goes with him. So Letho goes. 

They take the stairs.

They climb into a sleek black car with a driver who looks professionally competent at keeping his mouth shut, and Gaetan settles back into his seat to watch the rolling, chaotic lights of the Strip pass them by, the glitz and seediness bundled up together. Letho doesn’t ask. He’s good at working out secrets, he can wait. 

But Gaetan says, without looking at him, “Honorton.” 

“Nasty business,” Letho says, and means it.

Gaetan’s eyes flick to him, a small, self satisfied little smile lingering on his mouth. “Very nasty indeed.” 

Gaetan has rooms in a tower overlooking the Strip, a suite in a moldering casino that’s probably just pathetically relieved to have someone to take such luxurious accommodations. Gaetan undresses neat and precise, but tosses his clothes haphazardly on the couch, as far from body shy as Letho has ever seen a person. There are scars all over his torso, down his legs, creeping up his arms, but whoever dealt with his top was a master- his chest is perfectly clean, no scars at all. 

He sits, considers Letho. 

“Leave if you want,” he says, “but if you stay, I’m expecting you in bed.” 

Letho takes off his coat. Gaetan smiles. 

Later--

“I want revenge,” Gaetan whispers in his ear, hands trailing up his chest. “And I intend to have it.” 

“You’ll have it,” Letho murmurs, and catches his mouth in a kiss. 

oOo 

He’s beautiful in a suit. He’s beautiful out of a suit too, fuck, he’s just beautiful all the time, but he’s something else suited and on the attack. Ivar orders Letho to stay as part of his retinue, and Letho doesn’t complain. There’s worse things he could be doing than guarding an intense high roller with a nasty smile and quick eyes, and he stays at Gaetan’s side. Treyse and Gezras have their own retinues, Dragonfly with four women who could kick Letho’s ass from here to Sunday. Gaetan’s subtle in his money, not as flashy as Treyse, but he’s not invisible. Letho breaks fingers, one nose, and a foot of people who reach for him. Letho moves him from the sad casino and into their own, placing him in a comfortable and well appointed base.

Gaetan doesn’t tell him the plan.

He doesn’t have to. Letho can feel it, the shape of the cage he’s put himself in, and the leash running through it to Gaetan’s hand. 

He thinks sometimes it’s probably fake, what Gaetan wants from him is just the convenience of his position and the clearance it offers, but, well. There are other places to take his talents if he wants, and it’s not exactly a hardship to finger fuck Gaetan in dark corners or the well lit brilliance of his suite. 

Gaetan’s fast. Letho’s faster.

He doesn’t want to be. 

oOo

“They took everything from me and tossed me in a cell to rot,” Gaetan tells him, dressed in stockings meant to be ripped and absolutely nothing else. It’s the first time he’s said anything about the consequences of Honorton, and he does it with Letho’s mouth on his thigh. “Seven fucking years.” 

Letho bites him, sinks incisors into the soft flesh of his thigh. Gaetan rolls, sighing with pleasure. 

“It does terrible things to a man, seven years in solitary,” Gaetan says offhand, and razor blade nails catch Letho’s head to urge him upward. 

Later, Gaetan bathing and Letho prowling by the windows, he thinks solitary, and white, and Gaetan’s wild eyes in elevators. 

Gaetan joins him in the main room, dripping from the soaking pool and comfortably bare, green eyes flicking up, up to meet his. 

“What did you take from Honorton?” Letho asks him. 

Gaetan smiles, and tugs Letho’s jaw down to kiss him. Letho goes willingly. 

“Sweet man,” Gaetan says, biting sweet mockery. “You know just as well as I that there’s no way to take anything from Honorton that didn’t already belong to me.” 

Letho smiles. 

So that’s how it is. 

oOo 

Rule number two: The more sophisticated the game, the more sophisticated the player. 

oOo

“Who’s Honorton?” Letho asks. 

“A gangster,” Kolgrim tells him, washing blood off his knuckles. “Old school, way old.” 

“A headache,” Serrit says, in between rounds in the ring, Ivar’s form glittering as he prowls high above in the rafters, watching. “A money launderer.” 

“Who isn’t Honorton,” Auckes mutters, counting out hundreds from the stack next to him. “He’s a ghost.” 

Ivar just looks at him, quiet, unimpressed. 

“You know as well as I,” he says at last, and Letho leaves him be. 

oOo 

The story goes like this- Honorton buys a casino, and then another, and another, and holds them in consortium, and is richer than god. He owns it all, he holds it all in one vicious powerful hand, hanging above the Strip like Ra in his gold lit luxury, the temples to their majesty blazing light so bright it can be seen from space. And every last drop of blood, sweat, and tears that go from the highest up CFO to the lowest parking garage attendant flow to him, regular as can be. 

Honorton does not exist. 

Letho watches Gaetan dress, the slow deliberation of his movements, and walks to him. Does up his buttons, holds out his jacket to put on. There are diamonds in his ears, small and precious beauties. 

“You look beautiful,” he says simply. 

“I’m aware.” Gaetan waves a finger hand at the assortment of jewelry on the vanity. Letho brings him a chain, simple white gold with four links bearing diamonds, and latches it around his neck. It sits flat, just barely peeking out from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. 

“Is this the best way?” he asks as they wait for the elevator. 

“No,” Gaetan says, adjusting his watch. “But I’ll sate ego, id, and greed all at once.” 

They step into the elevator. The mirrors surround them, reflecting back and back again. 

“I’m not looking for enlightenment,” Gaetan says, and checks cufflinks frosted with tiny green emeralds. “I’m not looking for clarity. I don’t expect to come out of this knowing more than I came in.” 

“You’re not the one who gets a say in that.” 

“Nope.” Gaetan’s eyes glitter green. “Won’t it be something to see, though?” 

They step onto the casino floor, Letho a hulking shadow at Gaetan’s back, and melt into the crowd. 

oOo 

There are 9 of them. Honorton can be distilled down into a few small bodies, enough to pack into a decent sized van, and Gaetan knows every single name. He’s spent a long time at it, after all, he’s worked for his revenge, and Letho watches him plan. He’s clever- he’s not to Letho’s speed, but few people are, and that’s fine. Letho has known for a long time just how his mind works sideways to everyone else. 

The head of the snake isn’t the old man. It isn’t his wife, either, or their son or daughter or their spouses. No, it’s the smallest of the bunch, the accountant who holds it all together with fingers that dance over columns and move money. He’s the one who made the decision that Gaetan was expendable. He’s the one that took Gaetan’s sister. 

Gaetan doesn’t know that Letho knows. 

Letho isn’t going to tell him. 

“Never understood that phrase,” Gaetan mutters over lunch at the Bellagio, looking out over the water. “Revenge best served cold. Only things that should be eaten cold are ice cream and popsicles.” 

“You have the palate of a five year old,” Letho informs him, cutting into his foie gras. Gaetan’s eating near rare steak, and for some reason has paired it with near upsettingly cheesy potatoes and a very, very dry white wine. Letho can’t take him anywhere. 

“Forgive me that I’m not interested in eating livers,” Gaetan says, rolling his eyes. “S’what we are, isn’t it? Carnivores with better manners. We like things hot and bloody.” He takes a pointed bite of his steak. “S’why I like you, after all.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Letho says, and doesn’t think of blood, and doesn’t think of the past, and focuses instead on the fountains outside, the water stolen from the desert. He should get Gaetan out of the city. Take him out to the desert, show him what can bloom with nothing but sparse rainfall, the red stone rocks, the manmade beast that calls itself Lake Mead. He should take Gaetan far from here. 

Should. 

Won’t. 

There’s a child, now. And Letho isn’t going to step in the way of family, no matter how badly he wants to keep Gaetan close, selfishly tuck him into the yawning mass inside his ribs. 

“You have that look again,” Gaetan says, considering him. 

“What look?” 

“Like I’m a ghost you can’t quite touch.” 

Letho smiles, and picks up his red. “Aren’t you?” 

oOo 

Later, after everything, after the blood and the plots and Gaetan’s revenge in the night, they all climb into vans and leave the city in groups and pairs. Gaetan’s sister is small and quiet in the back seat, dressed in frills and big eyes, and Letho drives as Gaetan holds her tight. The road stretches out flat and blank before them, and as they vanish into the desert the lights of Las Vegas fall away behind them, gone far away. The stars grow stronger, the brush thicker, the cold sharp air of a desert night heavier. 

Gaetan emerges from the van when they pull over, his sister asleep, and lights up. Letho leans against the hood and watches the stars. 

“Going to kill me now, or later?” he asks quietly, and Gaetan hums. 

“Third rule of any good game or con,” he says, and blows out smoke to billow in the dark. “Your best opponent is in the last place you’ll ever look.” His eyes slant up to Letho’s and Letho looks back. “A lot easier to spot that opponent if you’ve got someone else looking.” 

“Fair enough,” Letho says, and Gaetan grabs his face with razor sharp nails for a kiss. When they pull away, his mouth feels bruised. 

“Let’s go,” Gaetan says, and smiles. “I want chicken strips, and a nice round of blackjack.” 

“The chicken, I’ll get you. But we may have some problems at a card table.” 

Gaetan smiles, the blood splashed on his face flaking, and Letho gets back behind the wheel. 

#vipurr #letho #gaetan #gaetan/letho #vinnfics

[kaer-cuan]

cells

Since Vergen is having a moment in fandom... this happened. Pretty sure we can lay thanks for that at the feet of @laurelnose’s Prince Iorveth AU, which is a FANTASTIC read and I highly recommend if you’re interested in some really cool worldbuilding around Vergen’s survival. There might be more of this later, I’ve got a plot and everything, but I don’t know if it’ll ever get written. 

tw for poor treatment of prisoners, implied general war crimes, and Iorveth and Roche’s entire complicated relationship. 

oOo

It was always going to end like this, and never going to end like this, and either way the Vergen cells are cold and quiet when Iorveth walks down the steps and begins the trek to the end of the hall. 

The guards have Roche stashed in the dampest, darkest space, and there’s little protection from the cold stones in his cell. Just a pallet, a thin coating of straw. He looks and smells horrendous, but he gets to his feet anyway when he sees Iorveth. 

“Well,” he says, and there’s not even any bite to it. “You clean up nice.” 

Iorveth doesn’t think about the unbelievably fine cloth, the damask and brocade he wears. He misses good linen, and leather, and blades worn openly instead of the subtle things he’s forced into these days.

“You killed Radovid,” Iorveth says. 

“Not technically. Philippa Eilhart gets the credit for actually doing the deed.” His voice is dull and rasping, out of use. He’s been down here at least a week. 

“No need for modesty, Roche, I know you drove him to her like a dog with a particularly ugly ram in need of slaughter.” Iorveth approaches the bars, casting his eye over him. “My, how the times have changed. Two king slayings to your name, and still no Temeria.” 

Roche meets his eye, and the bone weary exhaustion is gratifying to see. 

“What do you want, Iorveth?” 

Iorveth cocks his head. “Very little, these days. Saskia made friends with the Empress-in-Waiting, so Vergen gets to keep self rule in exchange for a truly horrifying amount of concessions, but Geralt’s daughter loves nonhumans. I am warm, well fed, unbelievably well fucked, and for the first time in many years I’m not being hunted for extermination. There’s no Radovid to nip at our borders, no Nilfgaard more than was inevitable, and Saskia is beloved by her people.” 

Roche manages the smallest amount of a smile. “You’re practically civilized.” 

“Mostly. I never can deal with all of the nonsense with table manners, though.” Iorveth watches him for a moment, and suddenly realizes there’s a bit of a cloud to one of Roche’s eyes. A cataract. Soon he’ll only have the one eye to see from as well. “As for what I want from you… simply a reassurance that you’re here, experiencing all the hospitality I could have expected of you.” 

“You’ve been more than generous,” Roche says quietly, and reaches up to touch the chain of state still hanging around his neck. “So. I’m to die here.” 

“You will be here a year and a day from when they put you here,” Iorveth says, smiling. It’s not a nice smile. “If I’m feeling particularly generous indeed, I might let you out to stretch your legs once in a while.” 

Roche doesn’t even look resigned. He just nods, understanding. “And at the end?” 

“I kill you, I let you go, or you become part of my own guard,” Iorveth says. “We’ll see how I feel at the end of it. Your men have integrated nicely, there’s only been the one assassination attempt and the others stopped him. The world has changed, Roche. We have to change with it.” 

Roche snorts, but nods. “Ves?” 

“Saskia has taken her as a personal guard. You raised her well. She knows how to be loyal, and the promise of being allowed to visit you has done wonders for her temperament. Whether or not *you* are allowed visitors is a matter we’ll deal with at another time.” Iorveth watches him, the soft, careful movements of a stiff, sore man. “Saskia asked me if I wanted you killed, for all you’ve done. I told her I preferred this. You will suffer slowly, and painfully, alone in the dark with only your thoughts of the screams of those you slaughtered for company unless I deign to come see to you. I don’t want you dead. I don’t know who I am without you, anymore, and I don’t care to find out just yet. But I have no great desire to see you happy or comfortable.” 

“Fair,” Roche says, and there’s a faint, wry twist to his mouth. “Iorveth?” 

“Hmm?” 

“For the record, it is good to see you well.” 

What would they have been, in another lifetime? 

“It is good to be well,” Iorveth says, and walks away. The hall feels longer than it did walking down, and ascending from the steps into the bright light of the castle feels oddly final. The guards shut the door behind him, barring it, and Iorveth shakes off the clinging cold of the dungeon. 

There are other things to attend to. 

#cells au #vinnfics #roveth #vernon roche #iorveth

[kaer-cuan]

Handler, Mage, and Witcher (or, 3 heads are better for monster hunting than one- a concept)

Monster hunting is what Witchers are built for, but everyone knows Witchers are more or less monsters themselves. They're like hunting dogs, they have to be led. So they're partnered to sorcerers or sorceresses, and to keep them BOTH in line a human is selected to be their conscience and guide them on the attack, and be their go between to make sure they get paid. Usually the human is one of the boys selected to not go through the trials, raised around hunting trios, but once in a while surprises come along.

So Geralt gets double mutated and is just stupidly overpowered as far as Witchers go, which means they KNOW they have to get a strong mage to link him to. So they see Yennefer, who's a massive headache and wants power and won't behave like a good little pawn, and she gets shipped off to get pair bonded to a Witcher almost immediately after her ascension. They're a nightmare on and off the field, incredibly hard to control because Yenn keeps trying to butt into human politics and Geralt's by turns horrified by his own strength and just really wants to kill things since he has no outlet for the emotions he's sure he's not supposed to have. They go through human handlers fast, because Yenn's opinionated and Geralt's massive and hard to manage.

Eventually, they have a human handler who takes them to Blaviken. Geralt, like most Witchers, has to wear a cage muzzle out in public, and Renfri stops to talk to him like he's a Real Person. Yenn comes back and they have a nice little chat, and then their human takes them to Strogoshit, and oh no, Geralt's new friend is now a target because their human has no issue choosing at ALL.

Geralt is horrified and desperately begs Yenn to do LITERALLY ANYTHING about this, please, and Yenn thinks about it for five seconds and kills their human, so instead Renfri becomes a Witcher handler and oh, dear, things have just gotten bad for Stregobor because Yennefer does not take kindly to the Brotherhood who sent her to be a puppet. Yennefer has Renfri cut her from her leash to Geralt, kills Stregobor, and comes back with a smile. No more Stregobor problem. 

Renfri doesn't really want to be a Witcher handler, so she just kind of wanders around with them for a few years as she tries to figure out what to do with the rest of her life, and they wind up in Posada.

Renfri takes one look at this dumbass bard in the corner and is like "Perfect, I'm gonna lose you in a card game, Yenn will have him wrapped around her little finger by dinner."

Which is great, except for one small tiny detail, which is that Jaskier then immediately takes the demon contract. Renfri, watching this, is just like "..............that did not just happen. what. no. oh no."

Jaskier, who now has the leashes "oh but it did! LET'S GO FIND A DEMON!!!"

They get out of town and Jaskier immediately stops them to take Geralt's muzzle off and look at him properly, and Geralt has no idea what to do when Jaskier immediately starts fussing over him from where it's dented into his face, and is just looking at Yenn like ?????? help me.

Yenn thinks this is both stupid and hilarious. Renfri, jogging after them, is mostly just here to see what nonsense goes down. 

They meet the "demon" and immediately all get captured, and Yenn's just like "well today was stupid enough anyway, this might as well happen.” They meet Filavandrel, Geralt growls out that he's not human and shouldn't be treated like one, Yenn says she damn well isn't human either fuck you very much, Renfri's just like "i'm technically human but only technically and also you are VERY hot, heeeeyyyyy" and Jaskier is having some sudden determined feelings about being The Best Witcher Handler Ever because holy shit these guys are depressing.

Renfri stays to hunt down people for Filavandrel and keep the elves safe (and also probably get spectacularly laid and made a queen after all, whoops) and Jaskier gets his new lute and a newfound sense of determination.

Jaskier starts his Actually Witchers Have Feelings propaganda songs and Yenn's just like "...... you could make some good political moves out of this" and starts egging him towards going to courts and taking bigger contracts. Unfortunately Jaskier desperately does not want to go to court because he's terrified his parents will find him and drag him back home to be a good little heir. And he doesn't really know any of the commands or anything, or how to behave when they meet other witcher sets, and is generally kind of a huge mess.

Meanwhile Geralt's having an identity crisis because Jaskier is treating him like a Real Person and oh, fuck, has he been a Real Person this entire time???? Yennefer has treated him like a Real Person but Yennefer is also a sorceress and his partner and therefore doesn't really count (Yennefer, deadpan: Gee thanks Geralt) and Renfri treated him like a real person but Renfri is Renfri and also doesn’t count, except that she totally does, and ohhhh no!!!!! 

Yenn and Geralt have also been fucking for years because no one ELSE is gonna get them laid and Jaskier is very wide eyed and into this and the second he tentatively makes a move, being sure he's nowhere near the leashes, they exchange one look and decide to wreck him. So that gets going Real Quick.

They get back to Kaer Morhen for winter, which houses ALL the remaining Witcher teams and was never torn down. There's the Witcher contingent in general, and it's only what different mutagens you were given that clarify your class instead of being totally separate schools. 

Jaskier is veeerrry uncomfy with how people treat Geralt since Geralt's supposedly meant to be all big and mostly feral and even more uncomfy when he finds out Geralt has to leave his muzzle on most of the time even at home. So he promptly goes about taking Geralt with him to the library to nap in front of the fire on his lap, or doing his hair in braids, or cooing at him publicly. Geralt can in fact blush and does, regularly.

Yenn in the meantime helps him learn how to behave like a Handler should, and has some quiet words with some of the other bonded pair sorcerers and sorceresses, and subtle changes start happening.

When they get back on the path life carries on like normal, but Jaskier decides to get over himself and start going to court to get bigger contracts and more power, because he wants to give the Witchers and the bonded mages a bit more freedom and eventually break the handler system.

That’s basically it. Geralt muzzled and leashed, Yenn leashed and faking that that even matters, and Jaskier just way too horny for what happens when he tells Geralt to fetch and when Yenn laughs at him.

I am Not Thinking about Eskel being sad so we're pretending he has a good human handler and is paired with Triss and they're very happy together. And because I want the disaster trio together, Aiden’s the handler, Coen’s the mage, and Lambert is still (sorry Lambert) the Witcher in that trio.

This also has much more monstery Witchers. Really really obvious fangs, super sharp long nails that have to be trimmed constantly, slightly pointed ears, they move just a little wrong. Geralt's white hair has been aggressively cut off so people didn't have to care for it until Renfri, who just let it grow. Jaskier not only lets it grow, he meticulously tends to it and lets Yennefer grow her hair out long too and is very attached to bathing his hard working pair and caring for them. Yennefer was a little iffy on him right up until he picked up a rag and started carefully cleaning her hands and then bought oils to work into Geralt's scars to help them heal up and the skin soften. Jaskier spends a looooot of time tending to them in every manner they need

(Also............... Geralt considering kissing a thousand times more intimate than sex because with his muzzle on it was rare that it ever happened...................... I am verklempt……….)

Jaskier takes them to taverns and inns and makes a point of sitting down by the fireplace with Geralt kneeling next to him so he can rest his head on his lap and Jaskier can brush his hair. This does wonders for most towns who have small children INCREDIBLY fascinated by the big sleepy witcher who's purring. Also, consider Geralt waking up and startling when he finds people looking at him, grabbing Jaskier's leg and trying to hide his face behind it. And only peeking out at the watchers when Jaskier tells him he's okay and safe and fine. 

Yenn, in the corner, clutching her chest: I'm having heart failure, too cute

Geralt learns how to play Gwent from watching other people and Jaskier is mortified when he starts hovering over his shoulder and forcibly playing better hands for him. Eventually they give up and just get him a good deck.

Also, dog instincts. Someone throws a ball and it's literally all he can do not to yank the leash out of Jaskier's hand to chase it. It looks so FUN. Jaskier has this happen to him exactly two times before finding a ball and spending hours working Geralt's energy out with essentially games of fetch. Yennefer adds extra oomph to his throws and Geralt still manages to catch shit out of the air, it drives them nuts.

Here have a snippet

---

“Pretty, aren’t you?” 

Geralt looked up, startled. There was a woman in front of him, nearly as tall as he was, with wavy brown hair and a heart shaped face. She was eating an apple, considering him, and dressed in an armored jerkin. He shrank back a little, because he knew full well what he looked like. Where was Yenn, anyway? She needed to come back. 

“Never heard that Witcher’s can’t talk,” the woman continued. “Or does the muzzle make it hard?” 

Geralt licks his lips and bites out, “Muzzle.” 

“Well that’s shitty.” The woman pulled out a knife, carving off a chunk of apple. “Want me to drop this through to you?” 

Geralt shook his head. The idea of having to crouch and tip his head for a few scraps of apple was unbelievably embarrassing. 

“Mm,” she said, and held it out, instead. “Here. Then you can eat it later, or do it yourself.” 

Startled, he took the apple piece from her. It was an early one, likely to be a little tart, but he liked the bite. “Thank you.” 

She smiled at him, stepping closer and leaning against the post of the covering. “Want me to cut you loose?” 

Geralt shook his head, pointing to the collar on his neck. “Strangles. So we can’t be used.” 

“Well that’s… terrifying,” she said mildly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m Renfri, by the way. You have a name, Witcher?” 

It had been… how long had it been, since someone asked for his name? He had almost forgotten how to say it. 

“Geralt,” he said, and the word fell from his lips like a prayer. “Geralt of Rivia.” 

#geraskefer #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #witcher #vinnfics

[kaer-cuan]

Portals, or, Boys Will Be Boys (even when they’re Witchers)

For day 13 of @bamf-jaskier‘s witchertober list. You can read my other Witchertober pieces (which are focused on missing moments on the Continent) on AO3. 

oOo

Vesemir’s day is going very well. He’s had a very nice lunch, his classes went off without a hitch in the morning, and Mattias has just uncovered a book in the library that they all thought was lost, so he’s planning to have a very nice, quiet afternoon reading “Lord of the Insects” and musing on the nature of man all by himself. In theory, this should be a very achievable goal.

This plan is interrupted by the door to his chambers banging open and most of the middle cohort of Grassed boys tumbling in ass over teakettle and scrambling to their feet in front of his desk, and all starting to talk at once in the middle of what is clearly growing hysterics. 

“Can’t let him do it-!” 

“And then Heironymous said-” 

“-Green, and he said that was bad-” 

“And it was so far, like, the furthest I’ve ever seen! It was bad-” 

“I can’t get him down-” 

“-There wasn’t any blood but it was just so far, and that’s not normal-” 

“What if he explodes?! What if he EXPLODES!?” 

Vesemir holds up a hand, and the group obediently shuts up. Rubbing his forehead, he points at Gweld, who’s physically trembling with the force of holding in his words. “I have no idea what any of you are trying to tell me. Gweld, explain. Succinctly.” 

Gweld blurts out, “We did the portal training today and Geralt got super sick and turned green and vomited everywhere when it opened up and said he felt like there was pressure all over him and bolted but Mage Heironymous still made us do it and when we got back he wasn’t there so we went looking and we found him but he’s up a tree and we were going to Aard him down but he’s like 30 feet up and I don’t know if he can land that well yet and what if he explodes from the pressure of going through a portal because his mutagens are weird and we don’t want him to die!” 

Vesemir stares at them. Eskel’s nearly in tears, Gweld is clearly shaken, Gardis and Clovis both look like they want to bolt and start screaming at the same time, and Aubry looks like he wants to flip Vesemir’s desk and drag him out of the room to make him fix everything. For a moment, he has absolutely no idea what to say.

He settles on, “Geralt’s in a tree?” 

Geralt is in a tree. 

Vesemir stares up, mildly impressed. Geralt’s scaled one of the massive pines on the edge of the forest, and clearly has no intention of coming down any time soon. This is possibly because he seems to be stuck, and clinging to the branches for dear life. 

“Well, this is certainly a pickle,” he says, hands on hips. “Geralt, what the fuck are you doing?” 

From up the tree comes a thready, “It was going to kill me.” 

“It was not,” Vesemir retorts. “Portalling’s perfectly safe. You need to know what it feels like so you can get used to traveling that way! You have to do it eventually.” 

“I’ll explode,” Geralt wails, clearly hysterical, and Vesemir takes a moment to remember that Geralt is, in fact, all of 14 years old, double mutated, and always has been a sensitive young thing. He’s gone and gotten himself into a feedback loop of anxiety, and that’s not going to help anything. All of the boys are shifting in a restless, worried mass around him, and he snags Eskel before he can go start climbing a tree too. 

“If I promise you don’t have to do the portalling today, will you come down?” Vesemir calls, and there’s a long pause. 

Gweld leans over. “I think he’s stuck.” 

Vesemir pinches the bridge of his nose. “Geralt. Are you stuck?” 

“Nnnnooooo?” Geralt’s voice is a good two octaves higher than usual. 

Vesemir sighs. “You couldn’t have more clearly said yes if you shouted it,” he mutters, and claps his hands. The boys all jump. “Alright. Training for today is figuring out how to get this idiot out of his tree, safely, and without setting it or him on fire. We’re going to test your teamwork.” 

This gets them all moving like drowners after a spotlight, and Vesemir finds a nice rock to sit on with his book to keep an eye on them and supervise this unexpected training situation. The boys current plan is to cut down trees to build a very tall ladder. He calls out sharp no’s whenever their plans get too reckless, and gets a good third of the way through the book before Rennes comes wandering out to see what’s going on. 

By this point the boys are attempting to fashion some sort of safety net from a sling to have Geralt jump into within the tree itself, which has potential. There’s some argument about the construction, though.

“What,” Rennes says mildly, “the fuck.” 

“Geralt’s stuck in a tree,” Vesemir says, turning a page. 

“So I see. How?” 

“Well he climbed it, presumably.” 

Rennes smacks him upside the back of the head, making Vesemir chuckle. “Brat. Come on.” 

“Apparently he interacted badly with the portal for the lesson and panicked,” Vesemir says, putting a lace bookmark carefully in the pages. “Seems like he’s not going to be big on portals.” 

Rennes chuckles, sitting on the rock next to him as the boys start swarming up the tree. “I’m not overly fond of them myself, and that boy loves horses. He’ll be fine. We’ll still have to get him to go through them once or twice to acclimate, but it might just be he won’t ever take to them.” 

“Fair enough.” Vesemir barely lifts his voice. “Aubry, do not try to brace yourself on Gardis, you’re much heavier than he is and I don’t want any broken bones today. Other way around!” 

The two obediently shuffle within the tree, cursing violently about sap.

“I had plans for today,” Vesemir muses as Geralt falls five feet into a cloak net, shrieking like a banshee the entire time. “I was going to have a lovely afternoon all to myself.” 

“It’s sweet that you think you get days off,” Rennes says, grinning as Geralt starts climbing down with the rest of the group. “Ah, there they go. Well, make sure they get a bath.” 

“I’ll dunk them all myself,” Vesemir says dryly as Geralt reaches the ground and collapses on it, Gweld and Eskel immediately going to fuss over him. Rennes chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder, and leaves as Vesemir tucks the book in his gambeson and gets up to go see to his wayward charges. The boys scatter like skittish kittens when he walks up, and he rolls Geralt over with his boot. Geralt stares up at him, new yellow eyes enormous and miserable. Vesemir raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?” 

“Yes,” Geralt says meekly. 

“Learned your lesson about running away to places you can get back out of?”

“Yes,” he says, even more meekly.

“Good lad. Up you get, and then all of you to the baths and laundry to get that sap off.” 

He sends the troupe of them marching before him all the way down to the caverns for the baths, pulling Geralt back for a moment before they go in. He waits pointedly until the others are too far to eavesdrop before he says, “You don’t have to do it today, but you’re going to have to eventually. Better to do it sooner than later. Might have to work up to it, but you need to learn.” 

“I know,” Geralt mumbles. His hair, once fine brown curls, is now a moderately long white near the same shade as Vesemir’s. The mages say it’s from the stress of the double Grasses, marking him as being under so much strain. He’s an awkward, gangly thing, always hungry, and all Vesemir can hope is that he keeps fighting through it. “I don’t think I’m ever going to like portals.” 

“You don’t have to. Just have to be able to handle them.” 

That seems to cheer him up, and Vesemir claps him on the shoulder before shooing him off to bathe. Time to go read his book in peace. 

Many, many years later, staring up a familiar tree as Cirilla shouts down at him, “I’m not doing any more history today, I’ll explode!” Vesemir finds himself smiling. 

“Like parent, like child,” he says, and watches Eskel come out with a cloak and a wide smile that says he caught every word. 

#Geralt of rivia #Vesemir #eskel #the witcher #vinnfics #Geralt's canonical distaste for portals fills me with glee for some reason #please enjoy this silly story of boys being dumb teenagers

[kaer-cuan]

revenge

--(modern Witchers on the Continent)

On the nights that Aiden wants to rile him up and make him pay for whatever stupid shit Lambert's done that week, the bastard will spend a solid fifteen minutes carefully putting on eyeliner. Lambert wants to hate him for it, because he knows this means that Aiden is definitely going to pick a fight with some Skelligen ex-sailor broader than Lambert is tall, but he also knows that after the fight Aiden will let himself be dragged home and they'll have a damn fine time after, so really, it's fine. 

It doesn't mean Lambert's any more patient about it though. 

"Will you hurry the fuck up?!" He yells up their rickety stairs. 

"Beauty is pain," Aiden calls back in his best lofty tones.

"My pain, maybe. Hurry up! I'm fucking starved." 

There’s a soft tch of annoyance, and then Aiden appears at the top of the stairs and Lambert’s mouth goes very dry. 

"Uh," he says blankly. 

Aiden arches an eyebrow as he casually strolls down the stairs in heels that make him a full three inches taller than Lambert, and a tight fitted leather skirt to his knees with slits up the thigh to dangerous heights. His usual red jacket is casually thrown on over a slinky black satin camisole with a plunging neckline, his wedding band on a delicate silver chain around his neck to clink next to his medallion. His eyes, of course, are covered in messy liner, his mouth stained blood red, and his long brown-black hair curls at his shoulders. 

“Is it your birthday?” Lambert asks. 

Aiden smiles at him. “No.” 

“Is it our anniversary?” 

“No.” 

“Is it my birthday?” he asks, near desperate. Much like his brothers, he has no idea when his actual birthday is, so they tend to just pick a random day each year to celebrate. Recently, Aiden has taken to picking his days for him. Lambert really doesn’t mind. 

“No.” Aiden leans in to kiss him, his mouth curling into a cruel red slash. “This is revenge.” 

“Baby, if you want to take your revenge you should have picked something I would have liked less,” Lambert says fervently. 

Aiden’s grin turns brutal. “We’re going to dinner with your brothers, and Geralt’s little paramours are coming too. So unless you want to be getting the stink eye for smelling like lust all night, better get your mind out of the gutter.” 

Lambert’s smile drops in horror, and Aiden winks at him before collecting a rather fancy bag from the hook near the door and sashaying to the door. 

“You are so fucking mean,” he says fervently, and bites his knuckles with a whine. 

This is going to be a long night. 

---

Eskel takes one look at Aiden when they walk through the door and claps Lambert on the shoulder hard. "It was nice knowing you, brother," he says solemnly. "I'll give a nice eulogy at your funeral." 

"Fuck off," Lambert says miserably, and steals his drink. 

#laiden #lambert #aiden the witcher #vinnfics #ficlet