#Lion cub of Cintra

[artistrhea]

ciri, the lion cub of cintra 🦁

[itsatwinthing-yt]

Ciri • The Lion Cub of Cintra [The Witcher]

[geraltgwynbleidd]

Stay the spirit awake, Wolf...

[navya04]

always found, never lost

[laurikarauchscat]

Cirilla of Cintra - the lion cub

An attempt was made - it was great fun !

[rebrandedbard]

Two lions. A thought I’ve had since season one.

[bookcalanthedaily]

the day the lion cub's rebellion begun, a thousand of nilfgaardian shields and banners were burned in the streets of occupied cintra. the people cheered; for calanthe, for cirilla, and for freedom.

[xxstxriesfromashxx]

Open Starters ; Mutuals Only

Muse: Ciri (The Witcher)

"Don't come any closer!" she draws her sword and holds it tight in a defensive position.

[theobsidicnstar]

New Tag Dump

[crescentstrike]

Take this blade and let yours be the last face I see in this world. Princess Cirilla, the lion cub of cintra. She who has the power to move the world. Do it. And forgive me. Forgive me.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

The continent always wondered what was the last straw for the Witchers before they snapped and stopped. Before they united, together as one rather than live separately. Before they become one kingdom.

Some thought it was due to the fall of Cintra.

The hunt for the lion cub, the heir to the blue mountains and the daughter of the White Wolf. The girl of elder blood and magic of an ancient time. The hope of the new bloods and of future for Witchers. While Ciri is beloved by many Witchers, this was not what caused the divide between Witcher and human.

Other thought it was due to the white wolf, the warlord of the north. A man who brought all the Witcher schools together. Who brought enemies, brothers and strangers and banded them under one cause. And while Geralt become their king, it was not him who caused the turning point. Why would Witcher fight for a man who didn’t care about them. Someone, who even became myth among the legends of Witchers, he lived just the same as any of them. Who lived, fought and died on the path. Those who thought it was Geralt of riviera were wrong.

In reality, it all came down to Jaskier, the bard.

The man who sang of Witchers as heroes. Who gave them a story beyond monster. Touched them with the kindness that was not afforded to them. Who loved with all this heart. Someone who wanted more for Witchers than to die on the path, fight for people who hated them. A human whom defended, in all counts of what was know, Monsters. And whom expected nothing back. And when the Witchers learned that he was to be executed they rebelled. For the continent, may not have Jaskier, who was a home for Witchers. They had lost enough, they would not lose their songs.

And so it began. The greatest change of the age, all due to a man with a heart that could love a monster.

[moodboards-probably]

Cirilla of Cintra // the Lion cub of Cintra 💚🤍

[theravenandtheswallow]

“Take this blade and let yours be the last face I see in this world. Princess Cirilla, the Lion Cub of Cintra.”

[blooms-in-april]

The front door slams open, the wreath swinging and everyone looks up. A man steps in.

“Jaskier!” Ciri cries. The little girl tears herself free from her father’s arms, making grabby hands at the newcomer’s blue coat. Geralt looks as if he’s taken too large a bite out of a pie and gotten it lodged in his throat.

“Your highness!” Jaskier says, doffing his hat and swinging his lute off his shoulder. He sweeps past both Geralt and Lambert without a glance, crouching to his knees at Ciri’s level. His calloused fingers strum a jaunty tune to the rhyme of Ciri’s excited bouncing.

“Princess Cirilla! An honor to be at your service.” He makes a dramatic bow, letting her paw at his feathered hat, his hair, his beard.

“I’m a lion, Jaskier!” she says, pointing a grubby finger at her drawn on whiskers and nose.

“And so you are,” he says, as if the ridiculous declarations of children were the most obvious and sensible things in the world. “Princess Ciri, the Lion Cub of Cintra! I’ll have to write a song about that.”

“A song!” Ciri’s eyes grow wide. Jaskier smiles.

“At least! Perhaps I can get a whole song cycle out of it, how does that sound?”

“Can I have my sword in it?”

“You can have two swords in it, if you want. Three swords. As many swords as you like!”

Ciri squeals and leaps into his arms, his arms circling her gently, careful not to crush her princess dress. Lambert watches something in Geralt’s face crumple quietly.

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, and Jaskier looks at him from over Ciri’s shoulder.

“Geralt.” he responds cautiously, in a tone Lambert has never heard from him before. In all the years he’s watched the bard trail in his brother's wake, singing praises, never once has he heard a cautious word from him. And yet, here it is. “How are you, lately?”

“I-” and Lambert would laugh, watching Geralt chew and swallow his words rather than spit them out, if it didn’t make something hard lodge in his own throat. “I’m- glad you could make it.”

Jaskier waits, for a beat, two, as if expecting something more. Geralt says nothing.

Jaskier smiles, a thin wan little thing. “Well, I could hardly miss it, could I? Being properly invited after some many years of simply crashing the thing,” he says lightly, looking around at the blinking lights, the molting tree, the tinsel worn after being reused year after year. “You’d think it’d be different, after it all, but it seems everything is just the same as always.” There is a quick sharp glance, like broken glass.

Geralt opens his mouth, pauses, shuts it. Opens, and shuts again.

Jaskier turns back to Ciri and her excited song suggestions as if they are the only two people in the world, letting her lead him off into the corner to inspect the presents under the tree. Geralt sits stupidly on the carpet, as if he’s been shoved through a portal and left nauseous on the other side, with no idea of where he is and how to get back.

Now Lambert does laugh, a short sharp bark of a thing.���What the fuck was that?”

Geralt says nothing, only heaves himself up and stalks into the kitchen without a word.

Excerpt from my angsty modern AU Geraskier Lambden Lamskier fic. Link below 👇

[simstoricalish]

Lion Cub of Cintra

[inexplicifics]

may i ask why little wolves arent called pups but instead cubs?

I'm pretty sure the answer is "early exposure to the Jungle Book" combined with Ciri being the Lion Cub of Cintra.

Chalk it up to authorial voice, I suppose?