#Coen

[bluedillylee]

Jaskier gets a lute and a wifey (˵ ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°˵)ﾉ⌒♡*:･。.

Yennefer was so flustered she accepted Jaskier’s proposal without thinking (*/ω＼)

the lute has buttercups on it btw .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

[hannibard]

I always find it funny when Kaer Morhen witchers call each other wolf. It's like calling your sibling by your shared last name.

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Drive-Away Dolls (Ethan Coen, 2024)

[nataliescatorccio]

[fandom-junk-drawer]

What Jaskier sees daily as he wanders the grounds of Kaer Morhen

(Vesemir is crying in a corner somewhere because his sons are idiots)

[0dde11eth]

Geralt: jaskiers been acting up lately. He ate some chips on MY SIDE of the bed. And the chips he couldn't finish? He squished them into my blankets. What do you think would be a good punishment?

Vesemir: Laundry duty, actions have consequences.

Lambert: Legos on his side of the bed

Aiden: nothing! kiss his head and tell him you love him. (Aidens also a brat and doesn't want Lambert to get ideas)

Eskel: Make him wear wet socks

Coen: sit on him and fart

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Witchers + someone making their s/o uncomfortable

summary: what if the witchers saw someone making their s/o uncomfortable at a bar?

warnings: unwanted flirting/attention, the witchers doing their thing (slight physical violence), written with afab!reader in mind, technically gender-neutral though :)

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @lu-in-the-library @sunndust @ghostcatwhiskers (hmu to be added/removed to any taglist)

masterlist | based on this request

Geralt

Bros the standing guy emoji

Except that he’s so so menacing. He’ll just kind of cast a shadow over the person that’s making you uncomfortable

And you best expect that person to scurry back into their hole

“We’re leaving.”

Scolds the barkeep like a little kid

Definitely tries to reassure you by wildly making death threats about anyone who’s ever been slightly negative towards you

Eskel

Eskel makes it very clear that you’re with him, and being a Witcher, that’s usually enough

He puts an arm around your waist/shoulder, and challenges whoever is making you uncomfortable to continue talking

Usually, they leave pretty quickly

If they do not get the memo, best believe that Eskel will make them understand

Happy to use threats in order to protect you

Lambert

Lambert may not be as quick to notice as Geralt or Eskel, as he’s probably busy getting into a brawl

But as soon as he does, he abandons his current fight to start a new one with whoever is making you uncomfortable

He’s a witcher, not a diplomat, no words necessary

You best believe drunk creeps leave you alone for the rest of the night

(unless they have a deathwish)

Coen

Coen is quiet and patient, and so is his approach

When he notices something is wrong, he takes the creep by the shoulder and walks them away from you

Exchanges some friendly, pointed words (read: threats) that have the creep’s knees shaking for sure

They leave pale as a ghost, and you’ll never get a word out of Coen. You don’t need to hear all that

[winters-mistress]

Cuddle pile

It's cold. It's so fucking cold that Ciri thinks she may honestly ask the gods to take her to the next world, because nothing can be as cold as this. She's got two pairs of leggings on, two pairs of socks, one of Geralt's tunics, her pair of gloves that Eskel had found for her, and she's buried underneath several blankets. Yet, she's so cold. She's so fucking cold.

The door opens, she can hear the squeak of the hinges. Footsteps come towards her, she can tell by the gait that it's Geralt, he's trying to be quiet, but he knows she's awake.

"Ciri?" she peaks out of her cocoon of blankets, one eye blinking up at him. His lip twitches, and he reaches towards her. "Cone here, it's too cold for you to be here alone. Especially with the fire refusing to catch."

She realises that the fireplace and the torches are dead. How many times has somebody came in and tried to warm her, only for the wind to blow it out?

Her thoughts distract her enough that Geralts breath upon her cheeks startle her, but she doesn't jump when his arks finally pick her up, blanket cocoon and all.

She makes a questioning noise, but never says no to Geralt giving her a hug. She's carried like a baby out of her room, out of the wing, down two flights of stairs, down another corridor, a third set of stairs, before they end up at the kitchens.

She makes a confused noise. It can't be breakfast time yet, the keep is pitch black to her puny human eyes.

"Why're we here?" she asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's too cold, even for us. Gotta rest." Geralt says. Ciri blinks at him.

All in all, the witchers are good when it comes to her sleeping. When her nights are plagued with the horrors of her past and future, and she wakes up screaming with wet cheeks, the witchers let her sleep in whenever her rest finally turns peaceful and dark. They allow her afternoon naps after training and chores are done, and send her to bed when she stumbles into the dining hall with dark circles under her eyes. Early nights and late starts aren't punished, and as long as training and chores are completed at some point in the day, the witchers don't particularly care when it happens. Hell, shes been wrapped up like a baby by Lambert of all people when they had determined she needed a sleep.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising when he turns the last corner and finds five Witchers laying a couple feet away from the cracking fireplace underneath the stew pot. They've got blankets and pillows and furs, and look rather comfortable. Laying all over each other, looking rather like a puppy pile. Even Aiden joins in with the snuggling.

"Pups." Vesemir rumbles when he sees them both. Geralt puts her on the floor, kneeling down next to her.

"Come here, girl, get comfortable. Gonna be making camp here for a couple'a days." Coën clarifies when he sees her confused face. Ciri blinks, but nods. These things make sense, and she's seen all the men here hug, but admittedly, this is the first cuddle pile she's been privy to.

She turns upon her side, feeling Geralt curl behind her, trapping her in with his arms, wrapping her in another blanket. She hums, wrapping her hand over his, before Eskel pulls them both close, and she smiles, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth seep into her.

And tonight, she will sleep sweetly indeed.

[random-apollo-child]

Jaskier chillin in kaer morhen singing with Geralt laughing and hanging his arms around him

Lambert: Is Geralt laughing how does the bard make him laugh

Yennefer: I don't know they have known each other for years almost 24 years I think

Coën: 24 years? Jeez how the hell did they meet and when did they meet?

Jaskier: You know you can just ask us, right? Yennefer doesn't have all the details

Lambert: Ok then how did you guys meet

Jaskier: Well Geralt was brooding in the corner of a tav-

Geralt: I was not brooding

Jaskier: Bull shit now let me finish, now. Geralt was brooding in the corner of a tavern when young and finish 18 year old me saw him and started to follow him and he never got rid of me

Geralt: Hell I had to save his life once remember that Yen?

Yennefer: Oh how could I forget about what you guys say is your biggest argument (in a moking tone) "how's my singing Geralt" "it's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling" "you- you need a nap"

Jaskier: Oh ha ha ha very fucking funny

Geralt: Yennefer shut the fuck up

*The other witchers cracking up"

@help-help-i-need-an-adult

[girlpog-productions]

I suffer from an illness called "how can I make this about my ocs?" so uhhh dnd smiling friends au

[underpreparedbard]

Respond to this with a pick-up line Jaskier would use on the Kaer Morons

[bluedillylee]

The witcher timeline is already a mess so I can fit in more family time at kaer morhen if I want.

I want the witchers to help throw a fun party for Ciri to make up for mocking her when she dressed up and to help her feel better after Voleth Mier.

image description below

Yennefer, Ciri, Jaskier, Geralt, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert and Coen dance in a circle with joined hands.

Yennefer looks at Ciri with a soft expression thinking “She looks happy…good”

Ciri is blushing while looking at Jaskier

Jaskier is saying “c’mon Ciri, let’s show these wolves how it’s done. Do your best with those cloven hooves, Yennefer.”

Geralt is doing the wrong dance moves and thinking “Fuck, wrong foot.”

Vesemir is asleep as he dances

Eskel has scars from the Leshen transformation and whispers to Lambert “is it just me or is the bard hot?”

Lambert has a look of concentration on his face as he says “both of you shut the fuck up. I’m fucking dancing here.”

Coen is laughing at Lambert and saying tauntingly “ c’mon Lamby you’re getting shown up by the bard”

[awitcheress]

I was so depressed when I read that the witcher coming back was Coen, I want more Lambert ..

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons:

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

----------------flashback------------------

You ignored Daemon's question and continued to gather your clothes. You huff a little when you collected your stockings and noticed they were ripped into shreds. You look at your dress and noticed it was slightly torn in the back too.

"You didn't answer my question, Little Lark," the prince speaks again. You huff once more and turn to Daemon in annoyance, "you have any idea how much money I spent on this?" you exasperate, gesturing to your dress. "I'll get you another," Daemon assures. "The fabric that was used to make this was imported from Kovir," you point out, "you plan on going all the way there to bring back more to fix it?"

"Point me in the right direction and I'll be there on my dragon," Daemon shrugs.

"Ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes and got your small clothes on.

Daemon got up, still naked as the day he was born, and approached you.

"What's you hurry? Stay awhile," he insists.

"I can't," you shake your head, getting your dress back on, doing your best not to look below the waistline of the man you fucked, "the princess will be expecting me soon." "The princess can wait," Daemon says, stepping in front of you.

Based on the look on his face, you could tell this man had no shame whatsoever in what he did last night. "I can't stay," you tell him, "I shouldn't be here any longer then I need to. I shouldn't even had done this in the first place." "Why not?" "Well for one, you are a married man," you point out. "Yet, you let that particular detail slip past your mind last night," Daemon says with a smirk.

He was right about that. You felt like a hypocrite, thinking back to the times you've scolded Jaskier for carrying on with married noblewomen back on the Continent. You've seen how many times your half-brother had gotten in trouble for such trysts, and you had sworn you wouldn't put yourself in a similar situation.

So much for that.

"I'm going," you insist, hastily pushing him to the side, "and don't be getting any ideas, prince" you tell him before you leave, "this is not going to happen again anytime soon...ever."

Looking out to make sure the coast was clear, you quietly slip out of Daemon's chambers and sneak your way back to your own.

You slipped out of your torn dress and put on another. You were in the middle of brushing your hair when you hear a knock at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping it was a summons to see the princess, but thinking it might be Daemon attempting to seduce you for another round. To your relief it was just the servant had come to give you breakfast.

Eggs with bacon and a cup of tea. The tea, you noticed had a unusual taste, but you didn't really think much of it. It was still decent

Just when you thought you could settle down some, you hear another knock at the door and another servant came in, "the Lord Hand, Otto Hightower is here, my Lady," he announces, "he wishes to see you."

You had a look of confusion on your face, "...me?" you frown a bit, "What for?" "He didn't say," the servant answers.

This was perplexing. You didn't know Otto Hightower all that well; in fact, you dare say you've only met him once when he was present at Rhaenyra's nameday feast. You did recall how very unimpressed he was with your songs and ballads that night, but he applauded when the other nobles had, though it seemed to be out of respect more than anything. What could the Hand of the King possibly want with you?

Said Hand didn't seem to wait for your permission as he walked past the door.

You stand up and curtsy lightly as Otto enters your rooms, "Lord Hand," you greet, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I'm afraid this is no social call, (y/n)," Otto says, looking you up and down with what to be contempt, "there is something I wish to discuss. Some rather...troubling rumors."

"Uh, rumors?" you frown a bit, taking a seat.

"It seems some...certain individuals, servants, have spotted the prince last night," the Hand explains, "romping about in the halls near his private chambers...with a woman. And, you'll have to forgive me, Lady troubadour, for the indelicacy of this situation, but some of them could've sworn that woman was...you."

"Oh," you say, feeling your face turn hot. It struck you as weird though as you didn't recall anyone being present when Daemon took you in that hall last night. And if they were present, why go to the Hand? Wouldn't it have made more sense to talk the king, Daemon's brother?"

Otto raised an eyebrow at that simple answer you made. You were caught in a compromising situation, yet you didn't seem to realize how this could affect your standing with the royal family. Then again you were a foreigner to this realm, he surmised, and therefore not accustomed to the ways proper women, especially highborn women, were supposed to behave in this part of the world.

"I know you are not from this realm," Otto explains, "you hail from this Continent to the East, across the Sea. I understand your sort are not as...restrained when it comes to indulging in certain vices." "MY sort?" you look at the man with a glare. "Women," Otto says matter-of-factually, "you may have been give more reign on the Continent to engage in such indecent acts, but here in Westeros, the women are raised to be proper paragons of virtue. To keep themselves as such until they are married and have bared children for their husbands."

"That must explain why there's so many brothels on the street of Silk," you mutter. "What was that?" "Nothing," you shrug, casually sipping your tea, "is there any particular reason why you're so fixated on my nighttime activities, Lord Hand?"

"You serve the princess Rhaenyra," Otto states, "she is an impressionable young woman who seems to be under the spell of your morbid, and rather vulgar ballads and siren's calls. It is imperative she does not have certain...ideals planted in her head, especially when she's yet to be betrothed and her virtue not yet called into question."

You were then able to put two and two together on what this was really about, "you want to ensure my 'foreign ways' don't corrupt the pure and virtuous princess," you sarcastically surmise, "...along with your daughter the Lady Alicent, the princess's companion."

"So we understand each other then," Otto says, small smile on his face like he'd won some kind of victory, "I do hope you enjoyed your tea. It was specially made for such...awkward situations. But don't expect it to happen again the next time you decide to think with your snatch instead of your head."

You were internally seething at this point; this man practically barged into your chambers (and you could've been naked for all he knew) and had the gall to control you by shaming your sexual choices. And top it all off, he had your tea spiked with contraceptives without your consent; granted, the fact your drank it gave you some peace of mind, but it still didn't change the fact this misogynistic son of a bitch made choices for your body without your knowing.

Daemon may be a rogue and a Lothario, but at least he was straightforward and wasn't one to beat around the bush, unlike this jackass.

Still, you decide to be the bigger person and stand up to face this man, speaking with a sincere voice, "Rest assured Lord Hand, I shall be discrete and will henceforth set an example for the princess and not let my certain non-Westerosi 'lifestyles' influence her in any way."

Satisfied with your answer, Otto nodded in approval and left.

You down the last of your tea, albeit reluctantly as you felt violated but still grateful as even on the Continent, a woman pregnant out of wedlock was generally frowned upon.

Right after another servant came to let you know Rhaenyra had summoned you to play for her.

You nod and grab your lute, "Paragons of virtue my ass," you mutter.

As soon as your time with the princess was over, you quickly walk out, and just as expected Daemon was there waiting for you to run into him again.

"Ah, my Prince," you greet, "Just the man I was looking for." Daemon was surprised, this was not like you to say something like that him, regardless of what he did last night; he expected insults, curses, you insisting that you had no desired to be bedded by him again (maybe some unsavory comments about his manhood while you were at it).

He was not prepared to hear say you were actually glad to see him.

You surprise even more when you pull him in for a kiss, the push him against the wall for another kiss, feeling him up as you did so.

Daemon pulls away for a brief moment, "Not that I'm complaining," he says, "but this cannot possibly be the Little Lark who had made very clear only this morning this would not happen again."

"I had a change of heart," you shrug leaning into him, "you really going to turn me down right now, Prince? I've heard the tales of your exploits on the Street of Silk. You can be quite...insatiable." "What about me being married? You were so adamant to bring that up," Daemon points out. You stop for a bit, but then decided to brush it off; you've already made your bed, you may as well sleep in it.

Sooner rather than later.

And you did drink the contraceptive tea, you may as well make good use of it while you still can.

"I've also heard you don't really like your wife all that much," you attempt to justify, "your Bronze Bitch, that's what you call her right? Besides, marriages like this, even on the Continent, are nothing more than political arrangements. Never stopped anyone from doing what they will."

Smirking, Daemon now pulls you in to kiss him. You moan as he did so, "my prince," you whisper as he moves to kiss your neck. "Call me by my name, Little Lark," you hear him whisper into your ear. "Only if you call me by mine," you say back.

-----------Present Day: Kaer Morhen---------

You were sleeping, something that was really considered a luxury these days since Aemma was born. You found yourself slowly waking though in the middle of the night. This was normally the time your daughter would be fussing about in her crib mostly likely to be fed.

It was quiet right now...too quiet. You feel the bed dipped on the side and look to see Geralt was sitting on the edge, cradling little Aemma to his chest as he did so.

"I didn't hear her fussing," you say, leaning on your elbow and rubbing your eyes.

"I heard her right as she started," Geralt admits, "I thought comforting her would allow you more rest." "I was wondering why I was sleeping so well tonight," you joke, "thanks for that, Geralt. You've really been a big help with Aemma." "No trouble at all," the witcher says, looking at the little bundle in his arms in awe.

Geralt may not be the father, but he seemed to adore the babe. Aemma seemed to feel the same way; Geralt would help out at night when she'd start fussing, and she seemed to settle quicker in his arms then she did in yours.

If anyone had looked and knew Geralt wasn't a witcher, they would almost mistake Aemma as his biological daughter.

It wasn't long though till Aemma started fussing again, nuzzling Geralt's chest.

"Uh, (y/n), I think she might be hungry again," Geralt tells you. "Yeah, babies do get hungry," you say, reaching out so Geralt could hand you your daughter. You give her a kiss on the head and arrange your night shift so you could feed her.

Geralt averted his gaze so as to give you privacy, something that didn't go unnoticed by you, "you're allowed to look Geralt," you chuckle, "we spent many an intimate night together before this, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"This is different," Geralt insists. He wasn't really embarrassed or anything, but this felt like something of an intrusion; from what little he's heard about babies and mothers, this was their special moment of bonding. The way you'd looked at Aemma during this time felt intimate and private, and it was something Geralt didn't want to disrupt.

You kiss the top of Aemma's head as she stops nursing. You rub her back and rock her till she falls asleep.

"Let me take her," Geralt offers, and you hand her to him. Geralt gets up, carrying Aemma to her crib.

You lay back down admiring the view. For a man with a rough exterior he could be surprisingly gentle; it shouldn't really surprise you, given how well Geralt has been doing raising Ciri. Actually if anything, parenthood really seemed to bring out the witcher's softer side.

Geralt joined you in the bed afterwards. He pulls you in and you give him a kiss, which you return.

Things start to get a little more heated. You feel him up as he hovers over you. He starts to kiss your neck, but he pulls away before things could get any further.

"Geralt?" you speak. "I uh, I didn't want to get carried away," the witcher admits, "I know you're still recovering from your past labors."

You smile a bit. You and the witcher had continued to share a bed since Aemma was born, and though you and him had started to fool around a little more, you hadn't gone all the way with him yet.

"I, uh, I think I want to do this," you tell him. "Are you sure?" Geralt asks. "It's been almost two months, I think I'll be fine," you assure, finding it sweet that Geralt was considering your needs first.

"Alright," Geralt says, placing you on your back, placing a kiss on your forehead, "if this becomes too much, let me know."

You give a sweet smile and place your lips to his again before he works his way down your body.

He lifted your shift slightly and makes ready to spread your legs, however, you stop him. "Are you okay?" Geralt asks, concerned that he may have somehow gone overboard with the stimulation.

"I am," you assured, "but uh...it's just..." "You're not ready?" "No I am," you insists, "it's just...*sigh* things may not be quite the same down there since last you saw it. My body, it hasn't quite been the same since giving birth."

Geralt gives a small smile, leaning down to press a kiss near your thigh, "you're beautiful, (y/n)," he assures, "you're not the first mother to go through this. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

You smile, and you could've sworn you felt a tear escape your eye. Geralt has been nothing but kind to you since you came here. Whatever happened in the past, both with him and the time you've been apart, he accepted you into his home when you were in most need. He went above and beyond to help you out during and after the pregnancy, and he didn't have to. He didn't owe you anything. Aemma wasn't his daughter, yet he was still there for you and for her.

You feel the witcher dive in between your legs, getting you ready for what was to come this night.

----------------flashback----------------------

"Twice in one day and it's not even high noon," Daemon comments in slight laughter as you and him lay in his bed naked and staring at the ceiling. The prince had a content smile on his face as he placed a hand behind his head.

You weren't really listening to him though, you were still reeling from the fact you allowed this man to take you to his bed once again for another tryst.

Why, you wonder. What possessed you to do this again?

It felt good, there was no denying that, but it didn't change the fact this man was still insufferable.

This also may have been a way to get back at Hightower for pissing you off and indirectly slut shaming you, and infantalizing you when he gave you the tea without your informed consent. But since you drank the tea, you made sure it didn't go to waste; it was well put to use.

"What say we make it a third time?" the sliver blonde prince suggests, bringing your attention back to him.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell him, sitting up. "Why not?" Daemon asks, somewhat confused.

"I uh...oh gods, I did it again," you groan, getting out of bed again, "I actually did it again. Why? Why do I keep doing this?" "Because it feels good?" Daemon suggests, "did I not satisfy you?" "No, you did," you assure, "well, you did a lot more then that, it's just...I'm not sure how long that tea is supposed to last."

"Tea?" "Yeah that strange tasting tea that I guess prevents pregnancy, the one Otto Hightower had the servants bring me." "Otto?" Daemon's ears perked up. "Yeah," you nod, "he...some people apparently caught us together last night and...they went and told him." "Oh, that twat," Daemon mutters, getting up to face you, "did he threaten you in any way?" "Only to keep my legs closed lest I somehow corrupt the impressionable princess," you admit, looking down, "the Lord Hand seems to be under the impression us Continental women are fast and loose compared to Westorosi women. I'm not. Yes I've known other men, but I don't just go throwing myself at every single one I chance across. I have standards."

"I know that," Daemon jokes, lifting your chin so you could face him, "Listen, Otto Hightower is a cunt. He's never been fond of me, and he's spent the last ten years or so poisoning my own brother against me with his little network of spies around King's Landing. If you are worried about him causing you harm or threatening your standing with Rhaenyra, I won't let it come to that."

"As for your worries concerning unwanted consequences from our clandestine trysts," the prince continues, "I can have the kitchen servants bring moon tea to your quarters every evening if you wish. They'll be discrete if I command them to be so. That is..if you wish to continue this little arrangement."

"Arrangement?" "You continue to entertain my niece whenever her whims wish so," Daemon explains, "and then you come entertain me afterwards."

You scoff a bit, turning your back on him. "Why deny yourself this?" Daemon leans in to press kisses to your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you, "I think it a fair arrangement. I can give you whatever you wish. You'll be want to for nothing should you accept." "I'm already want for nothing," you say , fighting the urge to moan from his ministrations, "I'm paid well for my services for the princess."

"Ah, but surely the princess doesn't give you this," Daemon smirks into his next kiss, hands starting to roam, caressing your waist and breast. You couldn't help but let out a loud moan, making the prince smirk even more.

"So, what do you say?" he asks.

You sigh a bit, feeling some self-loathing for even considering this offer. But there was no denying that despite how insufferable this man could be, he sure knew what he was doing when it came to pleasuring his partner. You cup his neck and turn to face him. "I shall take some time to consider this offer," you say, tone turning rather seductive, "in the mean time, how about going a third round as you suggested my Prince, I mean...Daemon?"

Smirking, Daemon picks you up, you wrap your legs around him as he carries you back to the bed.

You don't stay on your back for long as soon as he wraps your legs around him, you put your hands on his chest on push him around till you were sitting on top of him.

Chapter 4

Masterlist

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 2)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 601

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for a long wait! 

Part 1 is here.

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

 It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.”

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

“You are going to take us halfway. To Hengfors.”

[fandom-junk-drawer]

What Jaskier sees while watching the Kaer Morons do repairs to the Keep.