#One sided Ciri/triss

[laurikarauchscat]

"Little sister!" The woman calls her, smile just as beautiful as Ciri remembers.

Her body, warm and soft and fun, envelops the travel weary soul.

[hanzajesthanza]

one thing i do dislike about the ending of lady of the lake is how forgotten geralt and dandelion’s relationship feels at the very, very end. because although i accept, i even like, geralt’s despondence and emotional distance in ch. 11 and 12, which is not only warranted but realistic and flavorful…

i have a hard time believing dandelion’s numb response as geralt is dying. he says so very little. he sniffs, holds triss up, but otherwise says nothing. he muffles an exclamation of shock when ihuarraquax appears, and groans in awe. he is the first to move and place yennefer in the boat.

and his only words, last words he ever says in the series? “something has ended.” … dandelion, our eternally-blithe optimist, says the pessimistic part of the litany.

though, perhaps it’s like this: when a poet has nothing to say… that’s how you know it’s bad. dandelion NOT saying anything could in fact say more about his character than anything he could have possibly said in this scene.

[royalberryriku]

Finished reading The Witcher Lady of the Lake and I'm crying screaming throwing up

[geraltofriviacollection]

Chapter Nine

Paring: Geralt x Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher's world. Will she survive?

A/N: Guys we’re are getting to the end of season 2 with two more chapters left!!!! Please enjoy this next chapter. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work without permission. Please leave comments! ❤️

At some point during the ending stretch to the temple I manage to fall asleep as Geralt carries me there. The first thing I notice when I open my eyes I see a warmly, lit room. I look around and see geralt with his eyes closed sitting in a chair next to my bed. I move the covers as quietly as I can to not wake him so I can sit up. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Geralt rumbles softly. I chuckle reminded back to our first conversation. He opens his eyes and focuses on me. He gives me a slight smile before helping me sit up straight.

“Where’s Ciri?” I ask him as sits back down. 

“Ciri’s fine. She is in the library practicing trying to figure out her first lesson.” He explains. “It took some convincing for her to leave you while you slept.” I smiled at hearing this. 

“How long have I been down?” I ask him looking down, noticing that I am in clean clothes. I look at Geralt wondering if he was the one to change them. That thought has my face feeling warm. 

“Few hours. Blood loss is why you slept so long. How do you feel?” Geralt looks at me and something about his face seems softer now. 

“Tired and sore.” I wince trying to get comfortable again. “What have you found out?” 

Geralt sighs and closes his eyes briefly. “We’re fucked.” He grumbles out. 

“Fairly certain that has always been a given.” I chuckle. Geralt narrows his eyes at me before responding. 

“We can’t help Ciri until we find out what is missing from her.” He sighs leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. I see all the weight he feels in this moment and it tugs at my chest. I lean over to Geralt and place my hand on his arm. 

“Listen, are we a little bit fucked right now? Sure. The bright side is we are fucked together. Being fucked with someone is better than being fucked alone. So we’ll find out what’s missing and then we will be less fucked.” I explain. Geralt looks at me as if I have grown a second head.  To be fair that is not my most eloquent pep talk but I’m running on E right now.  “That’s the best I got right now.” I shrug looking back down at my hands. 

“You rather be fucked by me than fucked alone?” He says. My eyes go wide hearing that and my head snaps up to look at his face alight with amusement. 

“That’s not…. I didn’t mean…” I try to finish a sentence. “You’re not funny. You know that?” I say glaring at him a smile threatening to take over my face. He chuckles and leans back into his chair.  

A chill runs through me just like it did when Triss arrived. A weight comes over me and plants itself in my chest before moving to my head. I suck in a sharp breath at the feeling. 

“What is it? Geralt asks moving to sit on the bed. He places a hand on my arm. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pressure grows. I bring my hands up to my head groaning in pain. Just as my head feels like it's going to pop, the pain stops abruptly.  I open my eyes to see Geralt in front of me. Both of his hands are cupping my face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked me with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 I place one of my hands over his nodding yes. I’m still too shaken to speak. He tilts my face to his and his lips meet mine for a split second before the door opens. We both pull away from each other as our heads swivel to the door. 

I feel geralt go stiff beneath my hands as he sees a woman standing in our room. Dark hair and violet eyes, immediately I know I’m looking at Yennifer of Vengerberg. She looks over his face as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Then her her eyes roam over to find me in a rather intimate position in Geralt's arms. Something in her face changes from surprise to disappointment. I give Geralt's hand a slight squeeze and he looks back down at me I nod to him. He squeezes my hand before pulling away from me. 

Yennifer eyes shift back to geralt as she watches him stand to meet her. He walks closing the space between them. 

“How is this possible?” She whispers looking at him. He pulls her into a hug. I feel myself tense this time lookin gat the two of them. ‘Don’t like that’ is the only thing rolling around in my head. The embrace which is probably only a few seconds when Ciri comes in. 

“Geralt, I’ve been waiting hours, I want to see…” The words die as she looks at Geralt and Yennifer. They move away from each other. “Sorry.” she says awkwardly moving backwards. 

“Ciri, this is my dear friend. This is Yennifer.” He says. Turning her to introduce to me as well. Yennifer looks at me and I stare back unyielding. 

“You’re Yennifer?” Ciri asks as Ciri walks further into the room walking to me but glancing at Yennifer as she sits on the edge of my bed. 

“And you must be his…Child surprise. But who might you be?” She ask with a tone change I’m not sure anyone else is catching, turning back to me. 

“Just another dear friend.” I say with a smile I don’t feel. She hums before focusing her attention back to Geralt.

“Why don’t we all have dinner? I’m rather famished.” She says looking at Geralt who gives her a small smile. “I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on.” She winks at Geralt. That wink is what sent all the commen sense out my head. 

“That sounds fantastic. I’m starving myself.” I say starting to move. Ciri gives me her hand helping me stand. I feel the room spin a bit. I open my mouth to ask to speak to him alone to tell him not to trust her. That invisible force strains me as it wraps around my throat. 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t rest?” He whispers looking down at me softly. I will myself not to say anything more. I nod before replying. “There will be time for rest later. I want to get to know our new dear friend.” I say grinning. 

Dinner goes by without any hiccups. I find myself likening Yennifer. Under different circumstances I might like her. Hell, I like her now. Trusting her though now that is a different story. Ciri laughs at something Yennifer says. The conversation carries on for a bit before Ciri announces she’s going to bed. 

“This place is a maze. I’ll walk you.” Yennifer offers as she stands.

“No need, I'm going to head that direction. I’ll walk back with you.” I stand quickly. The room spins again Geralt put his hand on my arm to steady me. I watch Yennifer’s eyes track the movement. I smile at him in thanks before moving away and over to Ciri. She takes my hand and we walk back. She helps me back into bed before getting in her bed. We both say good night.  I’m so tired, I’m sleep before my head hit the pillow. 

My dreams are filled with screams of terror. So much hatred and pain. The laughter of a women. Flashes of red light, a hut in the forest, and sand. Women screaming in agony, wailing. I wake in a jolt. 

I hear a tussle in the distance. I try to get out of bed but unable to move, that same invisible force is holding me down. I try to lift my arms but pain erupts, keeping me pinned in place. “FUUUCCKKK!” I scream in pain and frustration. “Let me go!!!” Scream. The pain lifts and I jump from bed, my wounds scream at the sudden movement. I run through the halls closer to the noise. 

A man tackles me to the ground as I see Geralt fighting 4 others. My body hits the floor and take the breath out of me.  He’s got his forearm against my throat. The beginnings of panic start to tingle in my chest before I feel the warm glow begin. I place my hand in his side and push all the energy I have in to that area. I feel a pop and a splat before the man face slacken and he falls on me. I roll him off to see I damn near tore him in half. His blood drips from the ceiling. I stand up panting. Trying not to voimit at the sight when I see a man with a fucked face burning a door.

I run feeling the glow take over my body knowing Ciri is behind that door. I raise my hands and fire just as geralt throws his sword at the man. A portal opens and the fucked face man gets pulled though but not before some of the best I send makes its way in. Geralt glances behind me before moving to the door ciri is behind. 

Geralt stands there speaking words I can’t hear as I make my way to him. The door is still so hot that it’s melting. I look through the holes in the door to see no one is there. 

“Where is she?” I hear the shrillness in my voice. “Geralt, Where is Ciri?!!” I scream. I know shouldn’t be blaming him for this. Everything has happened as it should. This failure is mine. I push him out of the way. He pulls me away from the melting door.  I fight him until he puts me down. I push him away and walk back to the scattered body’s on the floor. 

I turn the corner to see a women stands in front of me with a shaven head in a red dress. She rushes over to me.

“ Are you hurt, my dear?” she ask softly. I look down to see my white dress stained red with blood. 

“It’s not mine.” I explain pulling away from her. I hear Geralt’s footsteps behind me. I turn to see him bend over and pick a coin up from the grown. The woman next to me whispers her failure to the temple goddess.

 Geralt walks over and talks to the woman in hushed tones. I stand to the side looking at the carnage all around. My anger with Yennifer grows. I feel the warm glow of my power getting brighter. Geralt must notice and come to my side tugging my hand and in his and the warmth of power fades. 

“Ciri needs more help than you can give her now.” She say softly walking to us. 

“I swore to protect her!” Geralt growls out. “Nenneke, I will not sit back and wait for something worse than a rouge mage and his aganda to happen to her.”

“Do you believe Yennifer means to harm the girl?” Nenneke ask. The sound of her name and the warmth returns with a fury. I rip my hand from Geralts. 

“I don’t give a good goddamn what she means to do. She took Ciri from us.” I say to Nenneke. I turn to Geralt. “When we find your dear friend, there is nothing that will stop me from ripping that bitches throat out with fucking teeth.”

@purplegardenwhispers @freegardenbanananeck @kas0417 @lillianacristina @mxtokko @wonderlandfandomkingdom @lovemesomuchhh @novaacanee

Tag list is open!!

[alpaca-clouds]

The Witcher books always confuse me

And not for the reason you might think.

I can always be on the "I knew this, before it was cool" train for The Witcher. Based on the fact that I just read every fantasy book that our local libraries had. And one of the book series, that was in the library, was The Witcher, as they got translated into German in the early 2000s.

It meant a lot to me at the time because of Ciri. Ciri was the first ever non-anime character, I encountered in media, who was LGBTQ*. Because, you know, representation matters.

But, at the time, there was still so much about the books that I did not get.

Again, I read them from the library, not owning them. And also knew them under the German title "Der Hexer". So, when I was a young adult and my then boyfriend started hyping this new fantasy game, I originally did not even realize from the title that it was a game based on those books I read as a teenager. Imagine my surprise, when I played that first game back then and realized: "Oh, I know those characters!"

I read the books again in 2012 and was still fairly impressed with them. But over the years - reading the books again and again - I got confused about these books. How where these books written in the early 1990s by a white man?!

Like, these books - again - have not only openly LGBTQ* characters, with one of the main characters being openly bisexual, but they also just tackle a plenthora of feminist and anti-colonialist issues within the text. And I am just sitting there: How did this got written in the 1990s, before the age of the internet? How did it get published at the time? What kinda man is Andrzej Sapkowski, that he was actually interested in writing this?

You know... I do not hate the games. They are very fun games. While I only played that first game twice, I did put hours upon hours in Witcher 2 and 3. But also... I absolutely get Sapkowski's frustration with those games. Because the games literally just do not get the books. The point with Geralt as a protagonist is, that for the most part he is just some dude. He is not some superhero type. Heck, he acquires a disability midway through the books and struggles with a ton of stuff after that. But the games ignore this as much as they ignore Triss' scars (and her self-consciousness about them). Just as they ignore a good chunk of the colonization angle of the books.

And... Really... The books are probably my favorite high fantasy book series. And quite frankly, given that a ton of folks got into the fandom through the games, the fandom is obviously full of folks, who have not really gotten access to this full picture and are very ignorant about the themes of the book series. And while I am very on the "hey, adaptions can do their own thing" train... At times I just look at the games with their sexy times side quest and think to myself: "Hmm, they kinda didn't get it, did they?"

To me it is really ironic, though. That this Polish book series from the fucking 90s manages to align with my progressive values a lot more than most books being released these days.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 11.5

Chapter 11

"Now you see the lengths I can go to in order to take back what belongs to me," Daemon says in triumph as Caraxes stared down Geralt, the look in the dragon's eyes mirroring the same triumph and anger in his rider's.

Back inside the keep, the other witchers could only stare in awe and terror at the sight of the blood wrym.

"That's the dragon?!" Jaskier exclaims in shock, "that's THE dragon that Daemon rides?" "Caraxes," you nod in confirmation.

"I did say he was big," Ciri points out. "Yes, but THAT big?!" Jaskier exasperates.

"I have to agree with the bard on this one," Vesemir speaks, "Even if there were a hundred of us, we may not stand a chance."

"We have a sorceress to help us," Ciri points out. "I appreciate the confidence," Triss speaks, "but dragons are near impervious to magic. Just as with witchers, it would take dozens, even hundreds of us to subdue such a beast."

You sigh, taking a deep breath, thinking about what needed to be done. You were the reason Daemon came all this way. You were the one who could stop this conflict and prevent the bloodshed that was going to ensue.

"You are outmatched, witcher," Daemon continues his triumphant speech, "even with your tricks and spins and your enhanced senses, you are one man. You cannot hope to defeat a dragon on your own. Surrender now. Produce me (y/n) and my child, and I will spare you the destruction of your home, and you the pain of a burning death."

Geralt stood his ground, refusing to back down.

Right at that moment, the doors to Kaer Morhen opened wide. The witchers, lead by Vesemir, run out with swords in hand, their eyes black and skin ashen from the potions they had just consumed. Geralt turns to see the wolves join him in the fight.

Daemon's eyes widen a bit, not having realized there were more of the witcher's kind.

Geralt turned his gaze back to the prince, potion vial in hand, "as you can see, prince, I'm not alone," he downs the potion, his own eyes turning black and skin turning ashen white, "but you are, even with a dragon by your side," he points his sword at Daemon, "turn back now. There is nothing here for you."

"So you will not surrender?" Daemon asks, looking to Geralt, and the other witchers, "you would put your own brethren in mortal danger just to defend the woman you love?"

"We will all defend (y/n) and her child to the last fucking breath if we must," Eskel speaks, "they are one of us."

"You think yourself the first to invade Kaer Morhen?" Vesemir states,  "Men who possessed none of what you have tried to rid the world of the likes of us once before, yet here we stand. We've survived the last raid, we will do so again."

"Go back home to your comfy cushioned palace, you fucking spoiled princeling!" Lambert sneers, the other witchers shouting and jeering in agreement.

"...So be it," Daemon says in a rather calm yet threatening tone, looking to Caraxes, who seemed all too eager to obey his master's next command. Daemon turned to the witchers, a small smile on his face, "Dracarys."

Caraxes raised his head and a pillar of fire shot from his mouth. The witchers simultaneously cast the Quen sign to shield themselves from the dragon's flaming wrath. While the sign proved to be effective, it did little to conceal the heat of the flames.

Nevertheless, the wolves stood there ground.

Meanwhile Triss stood by the entrance to the keep, gathering her thoughts and her strength, focusing on the dragon.

She begin to mutter incantations in the Elder Speech, focusing the chaos around her to surround Caraxes.

It took some time, but the spell started to take effect. Right on time as the witchers were starting to feel the heat of the flames burn through their armor and into their skin. Their magic shields were starting to falter right when Caraxes stopped.

Daemon looked to his dragon, wondering what was going on.

Caraxes swayed and started to move about in a sluggish fashion, almost as if he were disoriented, until he faltered down.

The blood wrym was down, but he was not completely out.

Triss kept repeating the incantations that kept Caraxes sedated; it hadn't even been a minute and already the effects of the spell were starting to take its toll on the sorceress.

Many of the witchers were still recovering from the dragon flame.

Vesemir, Lambert, and Coen and two of the witchers rush up to subdue the dragon. Despite the heavy sedation spell, Caraxes could still push his weight around and knock the wolves about.

Eskel and Geralt take up their swords and charge at Daemon. The prince parried each of their blows from their swords. Valyrian steel was lighter then silver, which worked in Eskel and Geralt's favor as they begin to push the prince back.

While the fighting was going on you ran to your room and found your daughter still in your crib.

You had no doubt the Geralt and his brethren could take on Daemon (one would've been more then enough to suffice), but Caraxes was a different story.

You trusted Triss to be a capable and strong sorceress, but if what she said was true, she would not be able to subdue the beast for much longer. 

You take Aemma from the crib and cradle her to your chest, giving her a kiss on the head. You feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

Aemma looked up to you, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. To her, you were her whole world at this moment, unknowing of the outside world like she's been since the day she was born.

You loved her, and this was the last thing you wanted to do, but you couldn't be responsible for the needless deaths of the men who had welcomed you into their home and allowed you to stay and care for your daughter.

This needed to be done before more blood was shed.

You walk out of your room and into the main hall of the keep, heading for the front entrance.

"Uh, (y/n), what are you doing?" you hear Jaskier question in confusion, "Where are you going with Aemma?" You look to your brother with a knowing gaze.

"No," the Bard shakes his head, "no, no, no, (y/n), don't you dare, I forbid it." You scoff lightly, heart not completely in it, "when has that ever worked?"

"(y/n), you can't," Jaskier insists, "you don't have to do this, we can figure something else out." "Wait, what is she doing?" you hear Ciri ask. "Daemon is hear for Aemma and me," you say, "If I go with him, he'll spare Geralt and the others. I need to do this."

"No, don't," Ciri grabs your wrist, "you can't do this. I swore I would not let anything happen to Aemma, and I won't. I'll protect you, the both of you."

You turn to Ciri, tears in your eyes, "Ciri, you're a brave and sweet girl," you say, placing a hand on her head, "but don't make this anymore difficult then it already is." "But (y/n)-" "this is my decision, Ciri," you say sternly, "I'll be okay. Daemon won't hurt me, not as long as I have Aemma in my arms."

Meanwhile, the fight continued.

Daemon was pushed to the ground by Eskel as he and Geralt have their swords pointed at the prince. Daemon looked towards the keep to see Triss was still focusing her spell on Caraxes. If Daemon could take out the sorceress, the dragon would be back under his command once more.

Daemon got on his knees, putting his hands up to signify his surrender.

Geralt and Eskel still kept their defenses up as they slowly approach the prince.

Noticing the dagger by Eskel's side, Daemon quickly stands and grabs it, stabbing the man in the side.

"Eskel!" Geralt rushes to his brother's side as Daemon makes a run for it. Geralt was about to go after the prince, but Eskel was doubled over in pain.

The white hair witcher looked to see exactly where Daemon was running towards.

"Vesemir!" Geralt calls out, getting the elder witcher's attention, "he's going after Triss!"

Vesemir stopped fighting the dragon and ran after the prince.

Triss' nose was starting to bleed at this point, but she stood her ground and kept focus on the spell.

"Triss!" she hears Vesemir calls out.

Sure enough, Triss looks up to see Daemon about to stab her. The sorceress quickly dodged, but the sword braised her side, forcing her to falter in pain.

Vesemir ran to Triss' side and helped her to her feet.

The spell quickly dissipated and Caraxes shook off the effects, almost as if he was never under the spell's influence.

"We might want to fucking run now," Coen suggests.

Too late.

Caraxes growled and went after the witchers. One got snapped up in the dragon's jaws while the rest ran for their lives.

Daemon stood in triumph as Caraxes approached Geralt and Eskel. The prince walked towards the dragon and stared into both the witchers' eyes, ready to finish it all.

"STOP!!!"

Daemon and Caraxes both turned around towards the keep to see you by the entrance, the baby in your arms.

Daemon stood there, speechless. He felt himself start to walk towards you.

Before you knew it, Daemon stood in front of you, staring in awe at the bundle in your arms. "Please stop this, Daemon," you say, voice broken as you fought back your tears, "This is the reason you came all this way, isn't it? You came for me...and for Aemma."

"Aemma?" Daemon looked into the bundle to see your daughter's face, "you...named our daughter after the late queen?"

You nod, fighting the urge to shove Daemon away as he reached a hand to touch Aemma, rubbing her back.

"She is mine," you hear the prince whisper, "the blood of the dragon courses through her veins." 

You look up to Daemon, staring into his eyes with a hard look on your face.

"Spare the witchers," you sternly tell him, "and we'll go with you. Please, Daemon, swear to me no further harm will come to them, and I'll swear to go with you back to King's Landing, or Dragonstone, or wherever it is you wish to take us. Just please, stop this madness."

Daemon looked to his daughter, then turned his gaze back to you. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, "you have my word, Little Lark. On the gods of Old Valyria."

You exhale, still annoyed by his pet name for you, but relieved that you were able to end this.

"(y/n)!" you hear Geralt call out, as he helps Eskel back to the keep, "what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," you say, letting a tear run down your cheek.

You feel Daemon place a hand on the small on your back and escort you towards Caraxes; the prince giving the witcher a knowing and triumphant look as he did so.

The witchers, Jaskier, and Triss could only stand and watch.

Ciri walked out of the keep, to see you and Daemon walking away.

"(y/n)!" she calls out, tears in her eyes, "don't do this!"

The young girl runs after you, but Geralt stops her, "Ciri!" he says. Ciri struggled, tears falling down as she watched Daemon help you up on Caraxes.

"No..." Ciri cries softly as Daemon mounts the beast behind you on the saddle.

"NO!!!!!"

The ground began to shake. Triss, Jaskier, and the witchers cover their ears from Ciri's screams. Caraxes roared in agony. You hold Aemma close to you for protection. Behind you, Daemon covered his own ears, looking to see where the source of this power was coming from.

For one reason or another, the chaos surrounding Ciri started to cause the witchers to pass out, the injured ones first.

Caraxes managed to protect you, Aemma, and Daemon by raising a wing to form in barrier in front of you.

"CIRI! STOP!!" you shout out, but it didn't do much good.

The keep was starting to crumble from the impact.

Triss stepped away from Vesemir, summoning what strength she had left to cast another spell to subdue Ciri.

It worked, but the spell also backfired, hitting Triss and Vesemir, causing them to pass out; the spell ricocheted towards Caraxes, who had lowered his wing, and hit you and Aemma.

To your surprise, you barely felt a thing. You look to Aemma, but it didn't seem anything different happened to her either.

Daemon leaned over your shoulder, concern for his daughter taking over.

Ciri, still disoriented from the impact of the spell, groggily got back on her feet. Seeing the everyone else was down, and the dragon had not yet taken off, she runs to you and Daemon.

Both you and Daemon could only stare at the young girl, shocked and speechless, even Caraxes seem to stare at her in shock as well.

"You want to take (y/n) and Aemma away from here, you're taking me too," Ciri states with authority.

---------------------------------------

Some time later, the witchers started to come to.

By the time Geralt regained consciousness he saw his brothers walk back to the keep, many of them exhausted and wounded.

Inside, Vesemir tended to Triss' wounds while Cone took care of Eskel.

Geralt walked in and approached the elder witcher, "Where are (y/n) and Aemma?" he asks. "...Gone," Vesemir says somberly, "as is Ciri."

"What?!" Geralt's eyes widen, "she...no, no, no," he shakes his head in denial.

He runs outside to calling out for Ciri, shouting into the mountain.

The witcher fell to his knees, not able to come to terms with the fact that not only was the women he loved taken away, but now his ward was taken from him as well.

Geralt turned his gaze to the west. He was going to do everything in his power to travel to Westeros, and bring you, Aemma, and Ciri back home.

Chapter 12

Masterlist

[cybernecromancer365]

Yennaia Headcanon

A.N. My first Yennaia headcanon :) Had an itch to write something quick after seeing them in 3x8.

--

Locked in an embrace, their foreheads touched, and the only thing heard in Tissaia's office was the fireplace's crackle.

She'd miss this, feeling Yennefer's presence all around her. Feeling the ebb of her chaos from a distance, and its insatiate rumble in those tense moments before they came together.

Yennefer pulled her closer. "Your pain is my pain..." Yennefer's words came softly as she stared over Tissaia's shoulder. She turned her face into Tissaia's snow white hair. "My pain is yours..."

Tissaia's eyes watered, no one had ever cared so much. Her loyal one, that's who Yennefer was. The one who'd never forsake her.

"And I will stand by your side for however long we have." Yennefer paused, her lips brushing Tissaia's ear. "Exsai remanus, volunpathis li--"

Tissaia shoved her way out of Yennefer's grasp with a horrified gaze at the surprise spell. "Stop!"

"--Eterna."

Tissaia grunted at a searing burn etching into her skin, Yennefer didn't flinch, the clench of her jaw the only sign of her discomfort. They both looked to their wrists, to the sigil carved into their flesh.

"What have you done?" Tissaia's frenzied words rushed out.

"Now your death means mine."

Tissaia let out a shaky breath.

"I learned a few things from Ciri. How to mask my telepathy was one."

"Impossible. The girl was barely trained."

Yennefer approached Tissaia but Tissaia grabbed the corner of her desk and hung her head. How didn't she feel Yennefer prodding her mind? After Vilgefortz's betrayal and the battle with the elves, her once level mind was going haywire.

"Ciri has a few clever tricks." Yennefer took Tissaia by the shoulder and pulled the woman's attention to her. They locked gazes.

"How could you be so stupid? This spell cannot be undone." Tissaia said, sorrow slipping into her words as her voice cracked and her tears fell.

"I felt the darkness inside of you. I see it. It's more powerful than ever before." Yennefer pressed her fingers to the medallion on Tissaia's chest. "I saw your thoughts. The darkness is consuming you..."

Tissaia inhaled an unsteady breath and Yennefer pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I need you, now...more than ever."

A knock sounded on the door and it opened shortly after. It was Triss, standing as though the sight of them took the words from her mouth.

Tissaia looked over with a watery gaze and stepped out of Yennefer's grasp. "Yes."

"The service for the novices. It's time."

Tissaia nodded and Triss left.

"...Foolish." Tissaia kept her back turned to Yennefer, looking at the sigil imprinted on her arm. "You've doomed your life to save mine. Why?" Tissaia faced her.

"Because...I love you."

Tissaia felt a shockwave rush her. Her heart pounded from her chest, and she hurried to the door, closing it swiftly, locking it for good measure.

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

He was not ready, neither was I.

I initially planned to make a very long post explaining why I feel so much during the reunion scene in Brokilon between Jaskier and Geralt, but in the words of the bard himself: plans have changed...

So I won't detail the 5 emotional shocks he goes through that leads to his almost breakdown when he see Geralt so hurt. I will take just the third and the fifth because there are linked and they have roots in the first two seasons.

If we put the feelings aside, Jaskier is our miroir inside the movie for a part of how we perceive Geralt. This is not "through him" but more "like him".

We are linked by what we know and what we believe.

Geralt, to many aspects, is the ultimate warrior and painted like a force of nature, from the very first frames. We witness him defeat strong monsters, fight many ennemis at the same time, even survive nearly fatal wounds (strigga).

During his many years on the road with him, Jaskier has witnessed too those skills and has gathered informations about the fights he didn't see (S1 : knows every stories behind his scars, takes notes from the witnesses).

Like us he has built a strong belief that Geralt is unbeatable when it comes to fight. He trusts him to come out victorious. And this is shown several times through the series.

Mostly S1 with some little reminders in S2 and S3 :

From their first adventure, he believes in his mutant skills, he doesn't know shit about, to get them out of the tricky situation.

But then he overlooks at his victories :

S1 : A Selkiemore has swallow him, naaaahh he is fine and has the confirmation bias when Geralt reappears very much alive covered in the monster's guts. A dragon hunt, sure ! Several agressive dwarves ? It's OK, Geralt can take them in his sleep.

S3 : Geralt gambles with his life to obtain informations ? He doesn't worry for a second and even laughs at how easy it is.

S2 : Even when he is tortured, this is what he says about him : Geralt has no weaknesses.

Sure he has a protective side to him too and he fears sometimes for the witcher. Also he has probably seen him wounded before. But since, in their more than 25 years shared history, Geralt has never been defeated, he is the heros he cannot imagine to fall. Very much like us.

But no-one is unbreakable, even the strongest hero... Much like in the books, this is what we learn from the Vilgefortz fight.

So here comes the third shock for Jaskier. Shock that makes him having an emotional roller-coaster but doesn't shake his inner believes.

Quitting Radovid who told him Ciri is probably dead, he learns from Yennefer that there is hope for her but that Geralt has been sent by Triss in Brokilon to heal and that he may die from his injuries.

But there is what he knows and believes that comes in between that sinister fact. And this is confirmed in the reunion scene later. Jaskier knows that Triss has already healed a deadly wounded Geralt so why not this time, right ?

And there comes the fifth shock : reality.

As spectators, we know before him how bad it is and in which gloomy mindset the witcher is (he wants to die, just as a sweet reminder...). So when Jaskier catches up everything, trying to hold back the cascading emotions, failing multiple time, but still trying to be strong for his friend, it hurts. (Or at least I do, I don't know about you).

That very first moment, especially, when he cannot hold his lute, while trying to keep control, is brutal to me, because this is when emotional pain is so strong that it becomes physical pain.

And there is nothing that prepares him to confront a still deadly wounded Geralt when he entered the hut. There is nothing to undo his inner preconceptions beforehand. To the best, Milva just says : he is not well. Which Jaskier seems to take like his friend probably depressed to be stuck here healing. So he is just bracing himself to deliver a bad news under normal circumstances, not having to do this dealing with raw emotions he is barely able to keep in.

I remember crying on this scene, because I was in sync with Jaskier's emotions. I was fearing his reaction and it was harder than what I anticipated, pretty much like him facing his friend.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Lambert groaned as he became aware of every single body part hurting, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. His ears and nose feeling like they were stuffed with cotton, same as they always did after a healing sleep. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it, letting out a strangled “Fuck.” accompanied by a whimper he would deny until his dying breath.

A hand stilled him, accompanied by a firm but gentle, “Lay back, Pup.”

 Vesemir.

He opened his eyes to be met with the face of his mentor hovering over him, blocking out most of the light from the sconces by the door (Lambert wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not but either way, his sensitive eyes were very grateful).

“What happened? Last thing I remember is being smacked into the wall by one of those Deathless Bitch’s...things.”  

Vesemir hummed in agreement, “Smacked you pretty good too. You’ve been out for three days.”

Lambert balked. Three days?

“Voleth Meir’s been dealt with, although not without cost.”

Lambert felt the grief he thought he’d finally buried after Eskel rise again, “How many?”

“Don’t worry about that now.” The older Witcher rested a hand briefly on top of Lambert’s curls. A gesture which he’d rarely used since Lambert was a boy (mainly because the stubborn pup would wrench his head out of the way with a snarl). “We moved them to the lab. We didn’t want to lay anyone to rest properly until everyone was able to say goodbye.”

Lambert heard what the other wasn’t saying loud and clear: Until we knew if you’d be joining them or not.

“Ciri and Geralt are both fine, as is the witch and that bard of theirs. He’ll definitely be glad to hear you’re awake, he’s half convinced himself you’re already dead after taking that hit for him.”

Lambert grunted, “Just didn’t want Geralt to be even more insufferable ‘cos his pet human got smooshed.”

“Of course.”

“... Aiden?”

Vesemir’s expression remained annoyingly impassive as he nodded towards the far corner of the room and Lambert felt a swell of relief. The stuffiness in his ears had prevented him from hearing the others heartbeat but there was his Cat. Long limbs scrunched awkwardly as he balanced on the seat of Lambert’s worn chair. Face buried in the crook of his arm and seemingly dead to the world.

“Protective thing. Fought like something from the depths of hell when you went down, making sure nothing else came near you and hasn’t left your side since they bought you in here. Coen had a job trying to get him to eat and Triss had to cast a small enchantment so he’d actually rest and stop wearing a hole in the floor.”

Lambert snorted. That sounded about right.

“I’ll admit, I had my doubts about letting him stay when you dragged him up here with you. I was convinced that this apparent friendship was some sort of long con and I’d end up finding at least one of you with your throat slit thanks to him. But after seeing the way the two of you work together, fight together. I was wrong.”

Lambert had died. Lambert had died and Vesemir admitting he was wrong about something was his reward.

“You truly care about each other, don’t you.”

Lambert furrowed his brow, “Of course we do. You just said it, we’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

Lambert was prevented from answering by a sleepy sounding chirrup from the corner.

“Lam?” Aiden stared over at him with wide eyes and sleep mussed hair.

Lambert attempted a grin, “Well, don’t you look shit?”

Lambert didn’t even see the other move. Just heard the chair clatter against the stone floor as it fell onto it’s side, followed by hands cupping his face and lips firmly on his. Lambert started to try and deepen it before remembering his mentor was stood right there and letting Aiden pull away.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you arsehole.” Aiden hissed, his relieved scent mingling with his angry tone before he buried his face in the others neck. Either oblivious to or ignoring Vesemir.

“I’ll leave you two alone, someone needs to let the others know you're awake. Aiden, make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

Lambert almost choked on air when he felt the Cat breathe out something which might have been “No promises.” Against his throat as the older Wolf left the room.

“The fuck’s got into you?” Lambert asked, wrapping an arm gingerly around the others back, “You’ve seen me banged up worse than this.”

He wasn’t expecting Aiden to look close to tears as he pulled away to look at him, “You weren’t moving.”

“What do you mean?”

“You. Weren’t. Moving, Lambert.” Aiden sprang to his feet and proceeded to start pacing backwards and forwards along the length of the bed, “Three days and not so much as a finger twitch. The only proof that you were even still alive was your heartbeat and I was scared, alright? I was scared to stop listening for it. I was scared if I got distracted for even a minute, you’d slip away without me even noticing. I was scared you were going to-“

He stopped and looked down at Lambert helplessly, the Wolf gently gripped the Cats wrist, “Scared I was going to what, Aiden?”

“I was scared you were going to leave me.”

“C’mere.” Lambert gave the wrist he was holding a gentle tug, mildly surprised when Aiden resisted, looking uncertain.

“You’re still hurting, I can smell it.”

 “And? I’m not looking at re-enacting any of the smut we found in that Alderman’s office that time, for fucks sake. Just lay down with me. Got to be comfier than the chair.”

Aiden allowed himself to be pulled down onto the mattress, head resting on Lambert’s chest as he was held in a loose hug.

“Not going anywhere, ok.” Lambert pressed a kiss to the top of Aiden’s head, “At least, not before I find out how you kiss when Vesemir isn’t watching.”

“In my defence, I just spent three days thinking you were going to die any minute. Oh gods, he’s not going to try and warn me off is he?”

“No chance. You playing guard dog appears to have convinced him you’re not here to steal any remaining Wolf school secrets and murder us in our sleep.”

Aiden gave a laugh which quickly turned into a yawn, “Speaking of-”

Aiden looked shyly up at Lambert, who rolled his eyes, “What’s that look for? We’ve shared beds before.”

“Yes, but this is your bed.”

Lambert tightened his hold and pressed a slow, chaste kiss to Aiden’s lips as he felt his own exhaustion creeping back up on him, “Want you here. Now, sleep.”

Aiden gave a happy hum as he snuggled down, placing his ear over Lambert’s heart.

“Staying right here.” Lambert muttered as he drifted off into sleep.

[thelostgirl21]

(Edit: Someone pointed out I'd mixed up Francesca and Triss! My apologies!)

Okay, but should we... worry that Dijkstra and Emhyr switched seats at some point during the reading or...?

I mean, does it actually mean anything? Are we supposed to be concerned about that?

They had seemed to start the reading by sitting everyone with who they were last seen with in S3, or "thematically", at least, somehow...

With Yennefer being where she is because she's part of the main cast, and they needed people to see how she and the new Geralt looked together, I guess!

Otherwise, you have Jaskier next to Geralt and Milva; and since Regis is at the end of the table I'm guessing they kept things a bit more Hansa or Hansa-mission related on that side...

Ciri next to Yennefer with her new girlfriend and the Rats on the other side...

Radovid sitting opposite Jaskier (a bit to his left, I think) with the Redanian Intelligence...

Vilgefortz next to Philippa with Triss and the Lodge of Sorceresses... So Yennefer and Ciri are sitting in front of a wall of the mages...

Then, suddenly, Philippa's flanked by... Vilgefortz (that was already there) and Emhyr Var Emreis (ah... where the fuck did you come from)?!?!?!

Did they start S5's reading, and had some actors "relocate" accordingly?

Did Philippa have a falling out with Dijkstra?

More importantly, where's Radovid? And who's looking after him now?

You had one job, Dijkstra! (Although, no offense, Radovid might be better off without you... Not sure, however, that the fucking Emperor of Nilfgaard is a better replacement! I wouldn't exactly trust him to have the King of Redania's best interest to heart, let me put it that way...)

[limerental]

there are so many twn only ships/dynamics that went way harder than they needed to like

cahir/emhyr - i'd commit atrocities for you, I worship you like a God because you saved me and saw my worth when no one else did but it took me years to notice when you said "we" you were using the royal we

fringilla/francesca - I've never had a partner before, I may never have had a friend at all before you, you gave me hope for the future, but I failed to realize that you never saw me in that future with you

cahir/gallatin - we could have loved one another as children. but in this world, your blood is on my hands.

yennefer/fringilla - you never even saw me and never thought of me for a moment when your dreams came true at my expense. we hate one another but the sides we ended up on were never really our choice at all.

also, philippa/tissaia... triss/istredd... yennefer/sabrina... ciri&dara... fringilla&cahir....

[astaldis]

Issue no 32 - Kneeling: Everything I do

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumpee: Cahir

Relationships: Cahir & Ciri, Cahir & Yennefer, Cahir & Jaskier, Jaskier & Yennefer

Rating: M

Warnings: GDoV

Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold, Isengrim Faoiltiarna, Cahir's horse

Words: 14,592; Chapters: 6/6

Excerpt from Chapter 1: My life is yours

"Princess, I've dreamt of this moment," he says, his voice husky with sudden emotion. A confusing mix of emotions he could not put a name to if his life depended on it. She charges at him.

"No!" Cahir calls out, but, from his dreams, he knows she will not stop. He has his sword out of its sheath within a split second. Not to harm her, to defend himself from her righteous fury. There are things he wants to tell her before she ends him. He cannot let her kill him yet.

Their swords meet, the blades clang against each other. She hacks at him with vicious force, incredibly good for a girl her age. She must have trained hard to be prepared for the day she would meet him in the field. For today. Now they are here, their swords clashing. Cahir has to fall back further and further to evade her blows, every backward step bringing him closer to the edge of the cliff.

"I do not wish to fight you!" he eventually shouts, lowering his sword and sinking it into the ground. Maybe she will not, but he has to try to stop her for a moment so she will listen to him.

"Pick it up!" she screams at him. "Pick it up!" If looks could kill, he would be dead already. 

She comes at him with raised sword, breathing hard from the fight. Like in his dreams, no, nightmares. The tip of her blade is almost in his face as she pushes him and grabs him by the rim of his breastplate's collar, her face a mask of fury. She forces him to lean back, precariously close to the cliff.

"Why?" Her hand holding him by his armour is all that keeps Cahir from falling, from tumbling down into the abyss. Now he is scared, terrified. He groans. But she needs an explanation. He owes her one before the end.

"In the attack in Cintra when I took you," he starts, trying to block out every thought of the precipice, of what will happen if she lets go of him, "I did everything I was asked with no hesitation, but now I can't stop asking questions. I've discovered I was wrong. I can't give you back the life I stole."

She roars and, with force, pushes him down to the ground, not backwards into the abyss. Panting, he gets to his knees.

"My life is yours," Cahir says, gazing up at her as she stands towering above him, glaring at him, her sword by her side, the wind from the sea in her ash-blonde hair. And he kneeling on the ground before the Princess as he should. "So, take it." He is sure she will. He is ready for it.

She takes a step toward him.

"You took everything from me," she spits, her voice full of hatred and heartbreak.

"I know," he says, his heart breaking for her. It is true, too. It is what he did. He destroyed her life. Why did it have to be this way? Because her father ordered it and he was so bloody stupid and blindly followed those orders. But he can never tell her that Emhyr var Emreis, the White Flame of Nilfgaard, is the father she believes died when she was a little girl. No, the truth is too cruel. 

"I know," he says once more, then looks down at her sword. He takes the sharp blade in his gloved hand and raises it to his throat.

"Take this blade." He looks up into her eyes, holding her sword with both hands against his neck. "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. I owe you that." He lets go of the blade. The pointed tip of her sword just so touches the collar of his gambeson right below the Adam's apple. Like a kiss. The kiss of death. From her he will gladly receive it. 

"Do it. And forgive me." It is much to ask, he is aware of it, too much, but it would mean the world to him. Her absolution. "Forgive me."

[tiny-tini-imagines]

OMG I just found your blog and damn I'm in love with your writing.

Would it be ok if I asked for some Witcher headcananons?

I would love to have some for Gerald as a father, (but just imagine Ciri didn't exist). So Gerlad found this girl, whose family was killed by a monster, and he took her with him and slowly became her father. So some head cannons about Gerald being a Dad.

I'd appreciate it, sending lots of love your way.

Re.: Hey, THANK YOU SO MUCH! And also thanks for the request, I loved writing it, and hope it's what you wanted.

Headcanons - The Witcher

summary: Geralt as a Father

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Father-Daughter Bond: Geralt sees her as his own daughter, and their bond is unbreakable. He may not be the most expressive person, but his love for her is evident in the little things he does. He doesn't hesitate to show his affection through his actions, even if he doesn't always say it out loud.

A Loving Home: The other witchers, initially skeptical of her presence, have all become like uncles to her. Vesemir, in particular, has a soft spot for her and is more like a granddad figure, regaling her with stories of the past.

Protective Dad: Geralt is extremely protective of her. He watches over her like a hawk, especially when they're in unfamiliar places. If he senses any danger, he's quick to position himself between her and the threat, a silent promise that he'll keep her safe.

"I know I can be overprotective, but it's only because I care about you so much. I just want to make sure you're safe and happy." "No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little girl. And I'll always be here to look out for you, no matter what."

Teaching Moments: He takes every opportunity to teach her valuable skills. Whether it's showing her how to properly wield a sword, start a fire, or track a monster, he is patient and thorough in his instruction. He knows that these skills could be essential for her survival one day.

"I've taught her everything I know, but she's taught me even more about what it means to be a father."

Fishing Lessons: One of their favorite pastimes is fishing. Geralt patiently teaches his daughter to fish using her bare hands.

Magic Lessons: Geralt, recognizing her potential, has enlisted the help of Triss or Yennefer to teach his daughter magic.

Nightmares and Comfort: Geralt always knows when she has nightmares, even if she tries to hide them. When she wakes up in a cold sweat, he's there to comfort her. He holds her close, whispering soothing words and stroking her hair until she can fall back asleep, feeling safe in his arms. However, sometimes, words are not necessary. Geralt will sit by her side in silence, offering his comforting presence. His strong, reassuring presence alone is enough to ease her fears.

"Don't ever forget that you can come to me with anything, whether it's a nightmare or a problem you're facing. I'll always be here for you."

Cuddles and Reassurance: Whenever she can't sleep, Geralt lets her rest on his chest. His slow, steady witcher heartbeat acts as a lullaby, calming her nerves. He often murmurs stories of their adventures, reminding her that she's never alone as long as he's around.

Unspoken Understanding: Geralt and his daughter have an unspoken understanding of each other's emotions and needs. They can communicate without words, knowing when the other needs space, comfort, or a listening ear.

Protective Stares: When they're out in public, Geralt's protective instincts kick in. He'll give anyone who looks at her a stern, warning glare, ensuring they keep their distance. She often teases him about being an overprotective dad, but secretly, she appreciates it. However he'll always observe anyone who gets too close to his daughter, especially young men who may be interested in her romantically. He watches them like a hawk and isn't afraid to make his presence known if he feels they're crossing boundaries.

Special Nicknames: Geralt has a soft spot for calling her by special nicknames, like "Little Wolf". These names are his way of showing affection without having to say the words out.

Inside Jokes: They share a ton of inside jokes from their adventures together. These jokes often involve specific monsters, places they've been, or humorous situations they've found themselves in. They can exchange a knowing glance and burst into laughter while others look on in confusion.

For instance, they might exchange a knowing glance and say: "Well, it's not another cursed Djinn, at least."

Grooming Ritual: Just as wolves in a pack groom each other as a sign of care and affection, Geralt has a ritual of carefully checking her equipment, for example ensuring her sword is sharp...

Hugs with Heart: Geralt's hugs may not be frequent, but when he does embrace her, it's full of warmth and love. He squeezes her gently, and it's a silent reassurance that no matter what challenges they face, they'll always have each other. OR It's a strong, one-armed embrace that speaks volumes about his affection and protection.

Nurturing Nature: Geralt may not be the most nurturing person, but when she is feeling unwell or has had a rough day, he surprises her with simple comforts like a warm meal, a cozy blanket, or a soothing cup of tea. He does these things quietly, without drawing attention to them.

Words of Encouragement: Whenever his daughter faces a challenge, Geralt is there to offer words of encouragement. He believes in her abilities and constantly reminds her that she's more than capable of handling whatever comes her way.

"Remember, it's okay to ask for help when you need it. You don't have to carry everything on your own shoulders."

The "Real Daughter" Comment: If anyone were foolish enough to suggest that she isn't his real daughter, Geralt's response would be swift and stern. He'd shut down such remarks with a single cold look and a firm, "She's my daughter, and that's all that matters."

"I've raised her, protected her, and loved her since she was just a frightened child. That makes her my daughter, no matter what anyone says."

The Origin Question: If she were to ask about her origins, Geralt would sit her down and explain the circumstances of how he found her. He'd emphasize that it doesn't matter where she came from; what matters is the family they've become and the love they share.

"You're my family, Little Wolf. Blood doesn't make family; the bonds we forge do." "No matter where life takes you, always know that you have a home here at Kaer Morhen, and you have a family who loves you."

Proud Dad Moments: Geralt is incredibly proud of her talents, whether it's her proficiency in combat or her mastery of magic. He doesn't shy away from expressing his pride when she accomplishes something remarkable, even if it's just a simple, approving nod.

Shared Secrets: They have a few secrets that only they know, like a hidden spot in Kaer Morhen where they go to stargaze.

[flowercrown-bard]

My headcanons for which Witcher would like doing which hobby (aka. me projecting my own hobbies onto them)

Geralt - whittling: it's just practical. He's probably already carrying a knife and there's plenty of wood to be found in the forests. For whittling, you can do rough cuts or you can add details and be gentle with the wood. You can either get lost in repetitive motions and sounds or you can make yourself concentrate really hard. I think the duality of it is perfect for mr "i don't choose sides"

Eskel - knitting: out or all the wolves, he's the one who looks the most frightening but also the kindest and most polite one (If i remember correctly, in the books Ciri was afraid of him when she saw him, but he's really polite to Triss and asks her for help). I think he wouldn't go with a craft like whittling, because he doesn't want people to see him handle something as dangerous as knives for fun. Knitting is about the least intimidating craft. It's associated with grandmas and once he's done, he has something soft and warm, just how he would like to be perceived. Also he's from the hillfolk and i headcanon that his family used to make wool themselves so he working with wool reminds him of his childhood

Lambert - drawing: people don't expect him to have the patience for drawing or the appreciation for beautiful things. So learning how to draw started out as a big fuck you to anyone who dared assume they knew anything about Lambert. Yes, he's full of anger and can be aggressive. But much of his anger is directed at the people who made him a witcher. He hates being a witcher and everything that's associated with that, so for him, picking up an artform like drawing is an act of rebellion. Secretly, it also has a different use: Lambert lost so people. His family, Volthere. Maybe Lambert is afraid of one day forgetting what those people looked like, so he makes sure to drae a picture of everyone he likes, so he can have something to remember them by if they die before him

Vesemir - cooking: his family deserves nice warm meals when they come home. And in a strange way experimenting with herbs is a way for him to cope with the experiments he used to do on the trainees before. It's learning to take this curiosity and ability to combine things and using them for something good and happiness-inducing instead of using it to mutate children

Bonus: Aiden - Embroidery: being able to use needle and thread to fix things is just very useful and with embroidery you get to stab something a thousand times

[brazenedminstrel]

So, Still Waters the sequel is now in development.

With which I mean I’ve taken the first notes on how I’m going to construct the outline. The title has also been determined a bit ago: Run Into the Depths. Like the full saying goes “still waters run deep”.

I’ll be taking seasons 2 and 3 together into one fic, because season 2 gives me very little to work with (still trying to figure out the Voleth Meir issue).

Where we left off, there are three storylines going forward, and a fourth one assumed:

- Yennefer and Tissaia

- Coral and Philippa

- Vanielle (and Sheala de Tancarville joins her in the sequel)

- (Geralt, Jaskier and Ciri’s story plays off-screen throughout Stil Waters all the while)

I already know where I want to end the sequel. Hint: think like the ending of s3! I’m stoked for more of our favourite side characters like Triss and Sabrina, especially looking forward to Milva joining the cast and of course, I’m very excited to dive back into the universe of arguably my most popular fic.

@yennefer-x-tissaia you’re the best place I can think of to spread the word about this!

[cinewhore]

Iridescent

Pairing: Triss Merigold x Fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

warning: small angst, heavy smut. Fingering, female receiving oral, scissoring.

Summary: After the battle of Sodden Hill, you and Trish spend an idyllic afternoon on a picnic. 

A/N: a repost. credit to the gif makers.

Triss reminds you of the sun.

The soft rays that caress your skin as they filter through the trees. The warmth that seeps deep into your bones, makes you feel alive.

Your face splits into a smile as you feel her grow near, her footsteps rattling your heart. You didn’t think she would agree to meet you in the garden but you wanted a moment alone with just her. The two of you were currently staying at Kaer Morhen for the time being and helping the Witchers with various tasks. Triss demanded that she go alone, seeing as she has a better relationship with some of the mutants then you did but you refused and made the journey with her.

It was not your ideal place to be at the moment but there was so much tension building up around the continents you felt that you needed to move. The mountains provided you with enough space and air to feel less restricted. You could deal with the raggedy men if it meant getting to wake up to the same view everyday.

The bubbling of a nearby lake keeps you company and wets the air around you. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, tilting your head back to let the sun graze it.

“You know you’re not supposed to look directly at it, right?” Triss’s quiet voice breaks your meditation and you laugh, prying your eyes open. She looks like an angel, her chestnut hair neatly cascading down her shoulders and back. A cloak covers her body, dress billowing from underneath.

“If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be looking at you at all.”

Triss grins as she continues towards you. You take the time to stand up to greet her properly, a hand on her hip while the other cradles her face. “Hello, my love.”

“Hi.” Triss bites her lip as the two of you gaze into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the sheer beauty each of you possesses. “I came all this, the food better be good.”

“It is better than whatever slop they are currently indulging in.” you inform her, stepping away to dig through the contents of your wooden basket.

Triss takes the task of spreading out the picnic blanket while you prep lunch, stealing glances at her occasionally. She slips off her cloak, folding it, and setting it to the side.

“I managed to gather some of the freshest fruit, sourced from the countryside along with the richest of cheeses.” you pridefully tell Triss, setting out each dish carefully. She claps her hands as you pull out a small loaf of bread with an assortment of jams and spreads to go along with it.

“Is that blueberry jam?” She asks excitedly, a gleam in her eye.

“I traveled far and wide to find it just for you.”

Triss doesn’t waste any time as she bypasses the bread and goes straight for the jam, taking the butter knife and dipping a healthy glob in her hand to lick at. She closes her eyes in pure bliss, mouth working to extract all of the flavors. “Oh, this is the best.”

Lunch goes over well with the pair of you catching each other up on the happenings within the castle. You had your reservations about Ciri and Triss helping her but knew that Triss would never do something to endanger anyone.

“You are thinking too loudly.” she giggles when you frown at her.

“You already know what I am thinking about.”

Triss sighs, wiping away at her mouth. “I do.”

Silence floats in the air as you observe the rustling of the trees. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I have never felt safer.”

You shake your head to yourself, the stinging sensation of fresh tears threatening to spill over. The battle of Sodden Hill was still a raw subject and one that everyone narrowly avoided discussing. All of the people you considered to be friends, family, killed in combat. You did what you could to fight and you fought hard but emotions took over when you heard the screams of Triss as she was burned. You let your guard down and because of that, someone’s life was taken.

Everyday you were tortured with the sounds and punished yourself by vanishing after the battle was done. Tissaia was slightly concerned at your loss but you later returned and all was well. Tissaia knew you were hurting and let you have your space to mourn. She was privately mourning the loss of Yennefer but declined to affirm that she was.

The reemergence of Yennefer stunned everyone but it seemed to rattle Triss the most.

“You can’t change what happened, so there’s no need to torture yourself over it.” Triss’s hand covers yours.

“You’re the one to talk.” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. Triss removes her hand and stuffs them in her lap.

“I’m sorry, Triss, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” Triss shakes her head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more. I thought coming here would open up the space for you to talk to me, to let me in, but there are just times where you won’t even look at me and I just-” you stop abruptly, swallowing hard against the lump that currently occupied your throat. “You got hurt because I couldn’t be there to protect you.”

Triss’s face softens as she scoots closer to you, grabbing your face in her hands. “I got hurt because we were protecting all of those innocent people who would’ve perished under Nilfgaard. I wouldn’t change that for anything. I’m still here and so are you, that’s all that matters. Ok?”

You nod your head, tears spilling over as you bury your face into her neck. Triss sighs, rubbing a hand gently over your back. She hums a tune and waits for you to calm down.

You lean back, knocking your forehead with hers. Your nose brushes along Triss’s, her head tipping as you push your lips together. The kiss starts off innocent enough, sweet and pleasant.

Her mouth parts as you lick into it, a low fire growing in your belly. The once slow touching turns frantic as you search for a source of your lover's skin. Triss retreats as you reach to pull her dress down, struggling to catch her breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “I just want to see you. Let me see you.”

Triss gazes into your eyes with an overwhelming feeling. She hadn’t let anyone see her bare since Sodden Hill and didn’t like the scars that were left behind. She confided in Yennefer that overall she didn’t mind them, she was just happy that her name wasn’t on Tissaia’s plaque. She was happy that she got to spend more time with you.

“I’m scared.” Triss croaks, a slight tremor in her voice.

“It is only me. You have nothing to fear.” you attempt a smile and peck both of her checks, her nose, and her forehead. “A beautiful creature I have the gift of experiencing.”

Triss grabs your hand and guides it to the dress strap on her shoulder. You peel it off slowly,eyes drinking in every inch of flesh that graced your eyes. You move to the other side and do the same until both straps hang near her elbows.

“If this is too much, we can always stop. I will love you either way.” You remind her.

“I want to. I trust you.”

You help Triss lay back, kissing down her neck and nipping at her neck. You detect her heart rate accelerating and you smirk. All you ever wanted to do was let Triss know how much you cared for her and to help make her feel good. If you could do that, you could do anything.

To assure her that you were fully committed, you undress yourself, all of the scars from difficult times seeing the light of day. Triss stares in awe like she does every time she sees you naked and you lean into yourself, shy under her admiring view.

Settling yourself on your knees, you part Triss’s legs, worshiping her body as if it were your altar. Your fingers trace up her inner thighs and she shivers, hips grinding in anticipation. You decide not to keep her waiting and lower yourself in front of her damp mound, separating her lips with your tongue.

Triss throws her head back and pants as you taste her, sucking and swallowing her juices. Your right hand snakes up her body to squeeze at her breasts, twisting her nipple teasingly. Your left becomes acquainted with her clit, stroking it skillfully before you dip them into her warm cunt. Triss’s body moves on its own accord, pleasure guiding her fluidity. Her hand covers yours again as she steers you in the right direction on how to touch her, helping to pull and pinch her nipples.

“Oh, fuck, your mouth is heavenly.” she whines, feet digging into the blanket beneath her.

You hum into her pussy and grin internally when her legs begin to lock around your head. She was nearing her release and you were nowhere near done. You thrust your fingers faster, the squelching of her wetness sounding like music to your ears.

“Please, please, please.” Triss chants, voice growing higher in pitch as she reaches her orgasm. You slurp and feast on her selfishly, devouring her cunt until it's swollen. Triss groans as she jerks back from your mouth, body overstimulated.

You bite at her thighs as you move away from her center, chest heaving as she comes down from her high. You wipe at your mouth lazily, eyes hooded with lust.

“Tell me, Triss. What do you want?”

“I want,” she stops to catch her breath. “I want you to make love to me. Fuck me, I beg you.”

Crawling towards her mouth, your lips clash in a furious battle, tongues exchanging blow after blow.

You position yourself in between her legs so that your pussy was rubbing across hers and you nearly jump out of your skin as you clits make contact, the sensation electrifying.

The mixture of your ethereal moans combined with the lively sounds of the springs create a harmony so unreal, you believe for a moment that you were dreaming. There was no way this could be real, however, you look down at your paramour and bask in her appearance: legs sprawled to accompany yours, mouth agape in delight, eyes closed to fully grapple the moment.

The flowers prove to be your only audience, swaying in a tame rhythm.

The sun shines directly onto her being, casting a light so vivid you had to glance away.

She was iridescent.