#child geralt

[artistsfuneral]

modern au Vesemir watching lil Eskel and Geralt on the playground one morning when a small Lambert approaches him. Lambert explains tha he's currently playing a game with his Dad, where his Dad drives him somewhere and Lambert has to find his way back home. Dad says it's supposed to help him should he ever get lost and usually he's really really good at finding his way home, but this time he doesn't recognize the streetnames and sleeping on the park bench wasn't fun and he doesn't want to do it again, so he asks Vesemir for the name of the playground doesn't even think about asking if Vesemir can take him home and turns out this time his Dad left him behind two towns over, so it's no wonder he didn't recognize his surroundings and then little Lambert asks in which direction he has to walk to get back home to win the game and Vesemir silently wonders how to justify punching Lambert's Dad in a courtroom

[hanzajesthanza]

characters in the witcher: *don’t fit into their prescribed social categories and canonical archetypes, subvert all expectations, and then have to deal with the emotional pain and loneliness that comes from that ostracization, of not fitting in, and of being treated like freaks of nature*

people: *surprised that LGBT readers like this series*

[thedemonofcat]

During a magic lesson at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer’s attempt to teach Ciri goes awry, resulting in Jaskier being transformed into a child.

Initially, everyone assumes that a young Jaskier—still Julian at this age—would be just as lively and boisterous as his adult self. However, they quickly realize that child Julian is nothing like the bard they know. He’s completely silent, never speaking a word.

Geralt, in particular, is eager to have the adult Jaskier back, as the young Julian’s constant staring without uttering a single word is becoming increasingly unsettling.

[elven-sisters]

Morning coffee is exactly what single fathers need most in the morning (although a white seagull would also work) 😁 And of course, it wouldn't be completed without Geralt's favourite roach cup 🐴

[shy-urban-hobbit]

For the first time in a long time, Eskel wasn’t the first one back. It wasn’t surprising, apparently Geralt had arrived back a fortnight ago, anxious to be back with Ciri. The child was currently sat at one of the long tables, legs swinging as she drew in the blank journal Vesemir had given her whilst the adults talked amongst themselves. It was to be a welcome home present for her Uncle Eskel and therefore, she was determined to make it the best picture of her entire six years.

“I ran into Lambert a couple of months back.” Eskel said as he finished warming up by the roaring fire in the great hall after his climb up to Kaer Morhen, “He said he’s bringing his Cat with him this year.”

Vesemir nodded, “Meaning he’ll be coming from further South, so we should expect him a little later.”

Ciri looked up at that, “Uncle Lambert has a cat?”

“Hmm? Yes, Aiden.”  Geralt answered, attention still mostly on his brother.

Ciri gave an excited wiggle. Her grandmother had never allowed her to have a pet. The closest she’d come was the cat owned by one of the courtiers; a fat, fluffy thing with a squashed face named Pumpkin (something which had confused Ciri, considering the cat wasn’t orange). She imagined pulling a string for them to chase, sitting petting them whilst Uncle Eskel read to her from one of the storybooks he’d decided wasn’t too grown up for her like he had last winter. Maybe she’d be allowed to have them sleep in her room sometimes. Oh yes, Ciri couldn’t wait!

“Papa, where will Aiden be sleeping?” Ciri had looked all around the Keep and she couldn’t find anything resembling a cat bed. Not even a cushion like the one Pumpkin would spend all day sitting on.

“He usually shares with Lambert.” Geralt said, as he tucked her in, “He’ll have his own room too though. Just incase.”

Ciri blinked. The cat was going to have its own room, “Why?”

“He’s like anybody else. He likes to have his own space sometimes or he gets grumpy. You warm enough?”

She nodded, feeling her eyelids already starting to grow heavy, “Goodnight, Papa.”

“Goodnight, Cub.”

Ciri was perched on one of the kitchen counters, munching on a couple of carrot sticks Eskel had handed to her when a thought struck her, “Uncle Eskel, will Aiden have to catch and eat the rats?”

Eskel laughed loudly and had to pause in his vegetable chopping so he didn’t lose a finger, “You know, I only said that as a joke about your Uncle Lambert’s cooking, right? And no, Cub, there’s more than enough here for Aiden too. Nobody's going to go hungry.”

“Okay.” Ciri nodded and went back to her snack, satisfied with her answer she’d gotten.

 Geralt reported seeing smoke halfway down the mountain. Lambert would be home by tomorrow.

“Will Aiden like me?”

Pumpkin had hissed and scratched at her if she ever tried to pet him or play with him after all. Even though she was nice and never tried to pull his tail or anything like that.

Vesemir ruffled her hair, “He’ll love you, Cub. Just do as you do with everyone else here and take heed if he wants to be left alone, alright? Don’t go chasing him.”

“We were worried you wouldn’t make it.” Geralt said, embracing Lambert in a rough hug, not waiting for the other to shake the snow off his cloak and boots, “Thought we’d have to come down and dig you out. Aiden.” He extended a hand to the stranger, who grasped it tightly.

Ciri stared up at the man stood next to her uncle. The man her papa had called Aiden. He was a little shorter and leaner, but still tall with green eyes and a friendly smile, his curly black hair flecked with snow and tied back from his face.

“You’re not a cat.”

That drew their attention. Aiden cocking his head towards her with an “Eh?” whilst Geralt hissed her name in admonishment.

Ciri crossed her arms, “Papa, you all said Uncle Lambert was bringing a cat back.”

“Geralt, what is she-“

Aiden put a hand on Lambert's forearm, interrupting him,  “I think I see what’s happened.”

He crouched so he was level with the little girl, fighting to keep down his laughter lest she think it was directed at her and not the situation (Eskel had already lost that battle and had retreated to the kitchen), “I’m a Cat in the same way your Uncle Lambert’s a Wolf. That’s my school, see.” He held out his medallion for Ciri to get a good look at.

“There’s other Witcher schools?”

“A year here and she doesn’t know that. What the fuck have you actually been teaching her, old man?”

“Lambert, watch your language!”

Ciri turned big eyes on the group, “So, there’s no cat for me to play with?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, Cub. I’m always up for a round of hide and seek, and I bet you’ve found all the best hiding places by now.”

Ciri nodded, it was true. When she wasn’t at lessons with Grandpa Vesemir, she’d had a lot of time to explore.

Aiden gave her an easy grin, “Great.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “You can show me the best places to hide from your Uncle. It’s always funny making him jump.”

Ciri giggled.

“Alright, back to your lessons now Ciri. Let Lambert and Aiden get settled.”

 Ciri took Geralt’s hand, letting him lead her to the library. They may have waited until Ciri was out of earshot, but Geralt heard all too clearly the Cats laughter and Jaskier-worthy exclamations about how she was “Too fucking adorable!”. Geralt smiled down at the little blonde head. Yes, she most definitely was.

[justaz]

need background noise as i write and started to watch the witcher. i find the found family funny. three parents all divorced from each other (simultaneously somehow) raising their daughter. good for them. the coparenting dream.

[senseless-writing]

Mountain Top Confessions

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x child!reader

Summary: Taking place in S1.E6, the little girl that Geralt took under his wing all those years ago isn't so little anymore. After overhearing something she wasn't supposed to while he and Yennefer argued about the quest to find the golden dragon, the witcher is forced to have a conversation with Orion that he'd been hoping to push off for as long as possible.

Warnings: Hurt feelings, talk of regret, death, etc. Really nothing much

A/N: Here's a story for a trope that's not in demand that nobody asked for, and yet I couldn't help but write! I actually wrote this forever ago and completely forgot about it, but I saw it today and thought I should share it even if it's only in self-service. Lemme know what you think!

Just so you know, this story exists within the world of the other Witcher stories I've written with the oc!character Orion. There are some references to those stories or Orion's life with Geralt in general, but I don't think it's completely necessary to read anything to understand this one.

Masterlist

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

“Did you mean it? What you said to Yennefer?” 

Geralt sighed, his entire body sagging with the release. After his fight with the enraging sorceress who always seemed to find a way under his skin, he had no energy left for anything more. Least of all a defiant tween. 

He turned to look at Orion, who was stepping out from behind the tree from which she was hiding. The Witcher blamed his scattered emotions for the failing of his normally heightened senses. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that…I told you to stay with Jaskier.”

“But did you mean it?” She asked again, stoically, without meeting his gaze. Geralt couldn’t tell what was going through her head. These days, he never could. 

When Orion was little, and her favorite place in the whole world was Geralt’s arms, the witcher didn’t have to worry about finding the right words to say. All he had to do was hold her, and it was like anything and everything that worried her little head would disappear. 

At first, Geralt detested this part of guardianship. It made him feel like a witcher turned cuddler and coddler, and he could feel Vesemir’s disapproving glare from all the way across the Continent. After giving it some thought, though, he figured it was probably for the best. Those who truly knew him knew how verbose he could be, but witty remarks and philosophical ponderings never meant too much to a six year old. 

But now his Orion was twelve. Her eyes were forever wide, never shutting for the fear of missing something worth learning. And she had so many questions that Geralt alone was in charge of answering. He couldn’t wrap her in his arms anymore and pretend the Continent wasn’t confusing or dangerous. He owed her answers, and she deserved his words. 

Geralt hesitated for only a moment. The truth was unfortunate and uncomfortable, and he’d hoped to not have any conversations resembling the one they were about to have until she was older. But it was too late for that now, and he wouldn’t lie to her. 

“Yes.”

Before he could so much as explain, Orion was already rushing away, quickening her steps to meet up with the rest of the group. 

“Wait-”

She didn’t listen.

“Orion. Wait!”

He jogged forward, grabbing her arm and twisting her around to face him. She ripped herself from his grasp at once. Her face was stone cold, but still present were the hints of a curled top lip and the flash of barred teeth.

She looked so much like him when she did that. It nearly made his head spin. 

He cocked his head to the side a little, a warning for her to check her attitude. She didn’t take it.

“Will you let me explain?” he said with an even tone. 

“Explain what? That you regret taking me in?" The powerful rage in Orion's voice was not enough to mask what Geralt knew was lying underneath: deep, overwhelming hurt. "Well, you know what, no one held a knife to your throat and made you! If you didn’t want me, you should’ve done something about it!”

“That is not what I said.”

“You said-”

“Orion!” he shouted, and the child’s mouth clamped shut at once. She could count on one hand the amount of time he’s raised his voice at her. “What I said was that taking you in taught me, more than anything else, that raising a child is not something to be taken lightly. It’s a lesson that Yennefer could benefit from learning.”

The girl bit her lip and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. “You said raising me taught you that your life isn't suited to a child. That implies regret.” 

“I do have regrets,” he agreed, and he noticed the flicker of insecurity in her gaze. He felt like an ass for putting it there. “Do you want to know why?” 

Orion stayed silent, and he suspected she didn’t want to know at all. He was going to tell her anyway. 

He spoke his next words very softly. “Every minute of every day, I regret not being able to give you the life you deserve.” 

That clearly wasn’t the answer she was expecting. He could tell from the immediate wrinkle of her brow. 

“What?”

He sighed again, averting his eyes to the group behind her. They were making a steady pace up the mountain. And Jaskier, with his slightly codependent nature, kept turning back every few steps to check on his travel companions. Apparently, their yelling was loud enough to attract the attention of even the loudest of bards. 

Their eyes locked, and Geralt nodded once to let him know that everything was alright. Or, at the very least, that it would be. Jaskier didn’t look convinced, but he gave a defeated shrug and turned back around to continue walking. The witcher hesitantly directed his eyes back to Orion, who seemed to be frozen in a state of confusion. 

“Geralt, I don’t understand any of this.” 

“Our life on the path isn’t normal, Orion. You think it is, because it’s all you’ve ever known, but it’s not.”

“I know tha-”

“No, you don’t. You grew up hiding from monsters that most humans never see in their lifetime. By the age of eight, you were well versed in the art of ignoring those on the streets who throw stones as you walk by. And that's…that's not a reflection on you, it’s a reflection on me.”

“But-”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad about the cards you’ve been dealt. It’s the same way I was raised, it’s all I know. But witchers are a dwindling species for a reason, and the last thing I wanted was to make you a part of our ranks. I never wanted you to be like me.” 

“But I did! I’ve always wanted to be like you.”

Geralt wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He opened his mouth to try, but all that came out was a confused grunt. With a tilted head and lifted brow, the witcher sat there in silence as he struggled to understand. 

How was it possible that after all this time, his sweet, open-hearted Orion still didn’t believe what he knew to be true? He wasn’t the man she thought he was, and the longer she failed to realize that, the longer she would spend wandering blind in the dark. 

Orion took a few steps closer until they were an arms length away. It always shocked the witcher when he noticed how big she had gotten, how much she had changed from the little girl he used to know. “Geralt, people throw rocks at us because they’re afraid of what they don’t understand. You’re the one who told me that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he averted his eyes. “What was I thinking?” 

Orion’s lips lifted in half a smile.“And people die everyday because they don’t know how to hide from monsters. Most humans don’t even recognize the signs for when one is around. I have a leg up on all of them.” 

“But you wouldn’t be around monsters as often as you are if it wasn't for me.” 

“I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” she reminded him sharply. “If you hadn’t found me, I’d probably still be sitting at the entrance of Kaer Morhen. A pile of bones withering to dust.” 

“Don’t say that!” Geralt snapped. His sudden change in tone shocked Orion to her very core, as it was a fiery anger that she'd never before heard directed at her. His eyes were wild and rabid as he stared at her, his entire body tense and shaking. To her, it was an extremely paradoxical image; he'd somehow managed to look terrified and terrifying at the same time.

The witcher had to squeeze his fists to stop himself from saying something he might regret. It wasn’t Orion he was mad at. If anything, it was himself.

Because the idea of his child going through a life-or-death situation should have been something he could only imagine. It should have been a distant nightmare, something that tortured his sleep but eased away once he awoke and realized it was only a figment of his imagination. 

Except that it wasn’t. Not for him. Orion had looked death in the eyes more than he could possibly count, and Geralt was the one leading her directly to it. 

“Don’t,” he repeated again in a clipped tone. “Don’t say things like that. You’re here with me because I made a choice. And while I may regret the implications of that choice, don't ever insinuate, even for a second, that I don’t want my child.” 

Orion was used to him calling her his. And she was, in all the ways that mattered. But it was always still a shock to her heart when he did. 

If Geralt noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it. “You needed me, and I made a choice,” he continued on. “Just as I made a choice to not do the same with my child surprise.” 

Oh, the infamous child surprise. From the little Orion knew, the whole thing ranked somewhere high on Geralt’s top ten list of the stupidest things he’s ever done. 

She wouldn’t pretend to understand why he was so insistent on ignoring the existence of someone he was connected to. “What if they need you too one day?” she asked. “What then?”

“He’s a prince of the largest and fiercest kingdom in all the North. He’s got people pleading for the honor of wiping his arse. I doubt he needs the help of a lowly witcher.” 

Or she, Orion thought absently. And perhaps a little dreamily. What luck it would be if Geralt was tied to a princess.

“Kingdoms fall everyday, Geralt. You also said that.” 

“Let's stop using my words against me, yeah? I’ll have to start keeping track of what I say around you.” 

Orion didn’t respond, staring back at him with an expectant glare. 

“Orion,” he leveled with her. “If Cintra falls, he’ll have dozens of people whose sole responsibility is to take the sword for him. He’ll be alright.” 

“And you’re sure of that?” Orion implored. “You can sleep peacefully at night knowing that maybe, just maybe, there’s a kid out there who might one day be as helpless as I was? A kid that, unlike me, is entitled to your protection?” 

“The only person entitled to my protection is you.” 

They were at a stand still, and after a moment of nothing but silence and a gentle breeze passing between them, Orion decided to let it go. She didn’t even berate him for ignoring her question. Because truly, she knew the answer already. She knew that every night, when he thought she was asleep, he rose and paced in circles for hours on end. The sound of him incessantly cleaning his swords had become white noise for her throughout the night. In fact, Orion couldn’t remember the last time she actually saw him sleep; really sleep, that is. Because Geralt wasn’t nearly as much of a master at pretending as he thought he was. 

So instead, all she did was try and direct the conversation back to its original topic. If Geralt wanted to be pig headed about the situation he put himself in, then fine. That wasn’t her main concern. 

At least, not right now it wasn’t. 

“Okay, well,” she sighed, struggling to change subjects without making it sound awkward. Suddenly, this whole conversation felt awkward. She felt stupid for being insecure, and she felt even more stupid for bringing up Cintra when she knew he’d shut down. “You don’t have to worry about not giving me the ‘life I deserve,’ or whatever it is you regret. I quite like the one I have.” 

Geralt remembers her saying something to that effect before. She’s probably said it a number of times by now. But it never mattered, never meant anything real to him. It felt too comparable to a mutt saying that it quite liked its cage. 

So he stayed silent. That alone spoke volumes to Orion. 

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?” she groaned with an exasperated tone. “No matter what I say?” 

He gave her an honest look. “It’s not likely.”

Orion surged forward at once, crashing into his chest with a resounding thud. The witcher barely had time to catch himself, but even as he took a step back to regain his balance, his arms were firmly wrapped around her. 

This wasn’t at all how he imagined this conversation going. He could’ve sworn she was mad at him not ten seconds ago. 

She smushed her face tight to his side, and Geralt strained to hear what she said next. “Can you at least try to understand that I want to be here? With you?”

It’s bothering her, he thought to himself as he rested his chin on her head. And she’s too stubborn to let it go. 

“Can you try to understand that I want you here?” he answered her question with one of his own. 

He felt her nod against his chest, which he supposed was enough. Though truth be told, Geralt wasn’t much for changing. 

And unfortunately, neither was Orion. 

He would never forgive himself for his shortcomings. Day after day, mistake after mistake, Geralt looked back and saw all the ways that he could’ve done better at raising her. He wasn’t used to failing at a job; Vesemir had raised him better than that. And in his eyes, caring for the girl in front of him was the ultimate job. 

But he hadn’t been prepared for it. 

And Orion would never be able to ignore the feeling that a part of them was missing. A part of Geralt, really. It was something he refused to acknowledge, refused to accept. It would gnaw at him forever until he did, and the idea of that continued to gnaw at her. 

This painful circle of lies where one swallowed their truth for the sake of the other was tense and never ending, and it was difficult to pretend that they both weren’t craving something that they desperately needed. For Geralt, a chance to start over. A chance to give Orion the family she should’ve had from the beginning, the one he ripped her from when they left Kaer Morhen. And for Orion, something that would ease Geralt’s mind once and for all. 

Years ago, on that day they’d met one another, each of them had been given something new. A different life, a fresh start. It was all they needed back then. But not anymore. 

Ignoring it would get them nowhere. It was clear now, even if neither of them could voice it, that something else was needed. 

Something more.

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

(A/N: This ending is definitely catered towards the book fans out there haha)

[random-apollo-child]

Geralt: Ciri where is your father

Ciri: He heard some dude talking shit about you and then grabbed a knife so my guess hiding a body

Jaskier walking in: Hey Geralt back from your job

Geralt: Jask what did you do

Jaskier: I did nothing

Yennefer walking by: That's bullshit he killed someone

Jaskier: No I was taking a walk

Geralt: Dandelion I love you, did you kill someone

Jaskier who is semi protective of his husband: ...😶yes😌

Ciri: I Suggest we leave

Geralt: Yup

[jaskier-more-like-saskier]

can we talk about Geralt breaking Riences hands. Was it because he burned Jaskiers hand probably not but i live in my delusions and think yes.

[drowningparty]

I love the way Andrzej Sapkowski writes Ciri in Tower of Swallows when she's relating the horrors she experienced, travelling alone as a young girl in a hostile world to Vysogota. She endured so much at such a young age but never let it break her, and I find her strength and resilience inspiring. Reading her describe feeling like a wooden doll, stepping outside her body during an interrogation to look down and watch it really got me, like... I do that!!! I've been doing that almost my whole life, I knew exactly what she's describing!!! Sapkowski really understands the different ways trauma can shape people. Ciri becoming more violent (while still hesitating to kill) is a natural response to the violence that surrounds her, the conditions she was raised in. So does her seeking comfort in an animal, in Kelpie, who cannot speak but can provide some much needed silent support when nearly every person she's met over the last few years, besides Yen & Geralt, only wanted to use her.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Jaskier receives a love letter that says it’s from Geralt.

The thing is… it’s obviously from Ciri. It’s clearly her handwriting. And Geralt has never once used the word “pulchritudinous” in his very long life. In fact, if Geralt wrote a love letter, it would be one paragraph—maybe even one sentence—not two pages.

What to do? Does he bring this to Geralt? Ignore it? Play along?

I love this!!! <3 She was tired of hearing Geralt bitch and moan about his beloved, and decided to do somethng about it for him!

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt and ciri are like the parent-child version of “would you still love me if i was a worm” test for relationships like “would you still love me if i was Evil incarnate and was a damaged child sick with a thirst for revenge and you would regret teaching me how to kill”

[thedemonofcat]

In which Jaskier is the child of Renfri. Jaskier only has a few vague memories of his mother before she gave him up to the Pankratz family, promising to return one day.

Only she never did.

A few months after the incident on the mountain, with Ciri in tow, Geralt discovers the truth about Jaskier in linage in possibly the worst way. Learning that Stregobor has requested someone to bring Jaskier, the only known child of the black sun, to him.

Geralt is now desperately trying to find Jaskier before it’s too late

[elven-sisters]

As they say, too much love will kill you... 😁

[grinchwrapsupreme]

the way s1 of the witcher keeps emphasizing the power of destiny only for geralt to wind up blaming jaskier for it all because he's the one who brought him to the ball, he's the one who broke the djinn's vessel, he's the one who keeps putting geralt in these situations like i don't think jaskier IS destiny so to speak but he's definitely one of its soldiers if nothing else

[ramen-flavored]

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